Anyone who stepped foot inside of my home had to instantly remove their shoes, place them on the rack, and grab a pair of slippers. As for me, I removed my shoes and carried them to my bedroom. I never wore outdoor shoes inside of my home. Thatwas not only due to keeping my home clean, but also because of the white Calacatta marble tile with its gold veins in some rooms and the white wool carpet in other rooms. The carpet was resistant to stains, but I still wanted to maintain a clean home aside from appearance sake.
I removed my clothing, tossed them into the laundry basket in the en suite, and hopped in the shower. I closed my eyes as I allowed the hot water from four separate showerheads to pound my body into submission.
I was tired, and it wasn’t that I had done a lot, but the exhaustion came from the interview with Ashton. It had taken a mental toll on me. I was not only embarrassed by his behavior but burdened with what my actions had done to him. It was wrong, and he hadn’t deserved that. I wished that I could roll back the hands of time, but I had to live with my decisions.
The manager and a few other staff had rushed to our table to see what the commotion was about. But by that time, Ashton was long gone. The manager brushed it off when he realized who it was that had created such a disturbance. Ashton didn’t have a reputation for acting an ass in public, but I also knew how our city was about its athletes. Everyone was very forgiving of bad behavior, especially when that behavior came from a particular celebrity who seldom showed any negativity.
The same could not be said of me. I was a harsh woman. I had no choice but to be in my industry if I wanted to make a name for myself. Shrugging shit off and not becoming emotional was the order of the day. Men did not respect emotions in my world. They wanted facts, data, and statistics. They wanted action, adventure, and wins. I delivered what I could, in the way they wanted it, with my own flair.
It was no secret that so many women accused me of getting to where I was by having sex with some very important men. But nothing could be further from the truth. The men I dated werenever in the same industry I worked in. In fact, I would even say that I went out of my way to make sure they weren’t in my industry.
Standing underneath the shower, I replayed the interview in my head a thousand times. There were so many other ways that I could have handled it, but I doubted I would have gotten the same reaction. I needed to know if the information I had gotten about his marriage was true, and the only way to get that from a private man like Ashton was to play my cards right. But I hadn’t. It had all been a mistake.
I stepped out of the shower and grabbed an Egyptian cotton bath towel and wrapped it around my body.
My phone rang while I oiled myself.
“Hey, Tommi. What are you doing?” I greeted my cousin, Thomasina Goode. She was my cousin on my mother’s side. Our mothers were sisters, and Tommi and I had grown up close like we were sisters instead of cousins. We had both chosen to work in male-dominated fields; I went into the sports industry, and she went into law enforcement. She was a deputy sheriff for our county.
“Just getting off work and heading home. You heard that my mama wants you all to come over for dinner Sunday?”
“No, I haven’t heard. I guess that’s what my mama’s been calling me about.”
“Probably. I think she’s dating again. God, help us all. I do not want to sit through another meal staring at some man’s jacked up toupee, while he ogles the hell out you and me and talking about how much he loves my mama.”
“Girl, you and me both.”
“Why’re you sounding so humdrum? You good?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Oh yeah, you had an interview with that fine ass Ashton Santoro today. How did it go?”
I faked a yawn. “It went well. Sports. Championships. Retirement. Same old song, same old game.”
“Girl, you act as if you don’t live for that shit. Sing that jingle to someone who buys that brand,” she teased.
“You’re right. I love what I do. I’m just tired. It feels like I’ve been running all week from one interview and game to another.”
“Well, hang in there. I was just calling to make sure that you knew about the dinner.”
“Girl, I don’t know nothing about nothing. I’ll be in my bed knocked out while y’all having dinner.”
“Heffa, you’d better not leave me all alone at that dinner with that man and my mama.”
“You won’t be. You’ll have my mama and daddy with you.”
“That’s easy for your ass to say. After that first dinner, you don’t have to attend any others.”
“What’s wrong? You worried Daddy Ralph or Frank or Greg is gonna be licking that gravy off his lips like it was your coochie juices?” I hollered laughing.
“Bye, basic bitch.” My cousin hung up the phone, and I laughed even harder.
It felt good to laugh after what I had done for the day. But by the time I was reclined on my couch drinking a glass of Shiraz and relishing the bold, full-bodied flavor and the dark-berry licorice and pepper notes, my laughter had ceased.
All I could think about was Ashton’s demeanor during the interview versus when I showed him those pictures. It was cruel if I were to be honest. I hated that shit with a passion. No one deserved to have their pain put on display for the world to see. Nobody deserved to be humiliated like that in public.
I shouldn’t have done that shit, no matter what my editor asked of me. Marriages ending aren’t exactly a celebratory moment in life. Tears pricked my eyes as I considered my failed marriage.
