“Montana, we meet with the Dodger owners tomorrow. At noon. We knew this day would come. I bet Ezekiel’s lawyers used the inevitable to their advantage.”
I wasn’t worried about the dude. But damn. This week was a last-ditch effort as I worked the Zuri-dating angle. “Already scheduled a red-eye.”
“Why? You ain’t broke!”
Because of Zuri. “Don’t worry. We can grab?—”
Footsteps prompted me to turnaround. Momma.
What was Dude doing to my momma …
Still doing to her.
Zuri had an arm wrapped around her as they watched. Jaw clenched, I tried to finish my call in a lower voice. Single-story houses weren’t my thing. Momma had them on a Pinterest board. So, I built this place. Damn near a mile long. For her.
She didn’t want it.
And she didn’t need to hear no mess.
“I’m on my way,” I whispered, but the acoustics of the vaulted ceiling carried it.
“I’m coming with you, Montana,” Zuri said. “Can we go today? Do a fake date …” She glanced at Momma.
“What in the world?” Mild curiosity pierced the sorrow on Momma’s face.
“Yes!” LaShawn whooped in the receiver, as I said, “We have to pretend?—”
“I know what it is.” Momma neared me, the back of her knuckle skimmed from the corner of my eyebrow to the start of my beard. “Will it help,mô garçon?”
“Long as we do something newsworthy.” I shrugged. “Compel the owners’ hearts. Stan and Hoops might be persuaded. Peter. If I can swing him too, all of Guggenheim Baseball Management might listen.”
“Listen to me,” LaShawn said. “Can everyone hear me?”
“Yep. You’re on speaker. Manage.”
“I need you and the waitress?—”
“Doctor,” Zuri said, cutting in, then winced. “Sorry. I …”
“Black and educated?” Lashawn said. “Honey, we’re unicorns.”
“Actually,” Zuri said, “those stats are rising … whatever.” She mumbled, “Thanks for ditching the single-mom scenario.”
“So, you are a single mother?” LaShawn asked.
“Damn.” I chuckled. “I should’ve said the single ma on the phone has elephant ears.”
“True.” LaShawn’s usual cigarette-burned voice softened. “But do you have a kid, Journey?”
“My son’s out of the question,” Zuri said.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying. So you’ll arrive this afternoon? Do dinner. Something small, intimate, in a prime location. Play up your position, Journey. Let people see you’re a doctor. Montana, are you on crutches?”
“Nah.”
“Get some.”
“Nah.”
