“Baby,” Mama stated, patting my leg. “You know she just needs space to do her job. When she gets like that it’s because she’s super focused, and she’s taking this seriously. Because it’s you, she’s not playing no games. She sees you as the little sister she never had.”
“Mama, Tommi is only four months older than me.”
She laughed. “She’s always taken those four months seriously though.”
“I know.”
“Be patient, baby. I believe?—”
“Shhh.” My father shushed us, waving his hand wildly, while he turned up the TV volume with the remote in his other hand.
“Baby,” Mama started.
“Shhhh!” he shushed louder.
It was then that I saw what was going on. Zoe “Muffin” Santoro was on TV, and she was wiping her eyes. She looked to have been crying, and he was trying to hear what she was saying. She was on a talk show calledThe Couch.
“Did you ever suspect anything?” Whitney Barrows, the host, asked.
“I kind of knew he was having affairs throughout our marriage, but I had no proof other than gut instincts, hang ups, panties in his truck, text messages, and things like that.”
“Sweetheart, when a woman’s instincts tell her something, they’re generally true. You should have listened a long time ago.”
“I know, but I loved him, you know? I wanted to prove that we wouldn’t be that couple. He wouldn’t be the athlete toexchange his high school sweetheart for something better along the way. I wanted us to prove that black love was real.” Muffin cried.
“I wanted to believe that he would change as he neared retirement, but I started suspecting that things with him and her might be serious because they seemed to have a lot in common. They had more in common than we did. I recently logged onto our online credit card account that he had forgotten to change the password on.”
“Was this after the divorce?” Whitney asked.
“Yes, but the charges that I saw weren’t.”
“What did you find?” Whitney asked, leaning forward on the couch. The camera panned the audience, and they leaned forward too.
“He had sent a box of $500 chocolates, $300 flowers, a $500 bottle of wine, and a thank you card to this woman.”
“Muffin, are you serious?”
“Yes. I cannot imagine what he was thanking her for that cost him thirteen-hundred-dollars.”
“So, you believe that she’s been around for longer than you suspected, and that is what pushed him to file for divorce?”
“Absolutely. My husband and I had a long, happy marriage for years before she came along. We’ve been married eleven years, and he all of a sudden wants to end it for irreconcilable differences. Make it make sense. No sooner than I got the divorce papers than she popped up.”
Pictures of me flashed on the TV and then pictures of Ashton and me at the bar, talking courtside at games, and at the hotel in California.
“This heffa!” I shouted, popping up off the couch like a piece of popcorn in a pot.
“Nelli, baby calm down,” Mama warned.
“No, Mama. She cannot get away with this. I’m tired of the lies and the allegations. She has to be stopped now, before it ruins my reputation and career. She’s already damaged Ashton’s reputation by lying and dragging him through the mud. When will it stop?”
“Baby, it will all blow over in time when the next scandal comes along,” Mama promised.
“No, baby. Nelli needs to come out swinging and tell the public why she was meeting that man in a hotel.”
“I might need to come out swinging, but I cannot tell what Ashton and I were meeting about. That would ruin my credibility and future athletes’ trust in me.”
“I know, but you’re my baby girl, and I just want to kick somebody’s ass. I don’t give a damn who it is.”
