“Do you take requests? Because I request him to demonstrate,” another woman called out while pointing directly at me.
Shrieks and hoots went up throughout the crowd.
Dave turned to me. “All right, Charles. Looks like you won the election. Come on up and be our body model.”
I sucked my teeth and shook my head. “This is some bullshit,” I muttered as I walked toward Dave.
Dave had me demonstrate the first few moves he called out. As the moves required a little bit more flexibility and balance, he asked the players to walk through the crowd and correct forms.
“Is this right?” The voice came from a petite blonde, who was bent over, looking up at me from between her own legs.
It was some porn-star-type shit, but it did absolutely nothing for me. “Uh, nah. Don’t bend so far down, and don’t lock your knees.”
“Not even around your neck?” She winked at me, and it was awkward as hell with her head down by her own knees.
“Hell . . .” I began as the visual of what she was insinuating flooded my mind. Luckily, I was able to catch myself and give her a very fake smile. “Let’s keep it professional,” I told her instead.
“Why? I’m not on my job.”
“I’m on mine. And as an athlete who understands injury, I’d prefer that you didn’t pull a muscle on my watch. Relax your knees, and bring your upper body to an almost standing position.”
When the weightlift portion of the clinic started, I got even more offers. Everything was thrown out by the women from “spot me” from this one to “I don’t think my hips are in alignment” from that one. A lady with a diamond on her ring that was the size of a tennis ball cuffed my ass. I caught her hand, gave her a fake grin and accused her of trying to get me killed by her husband. Even she had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of her flirting.
I stepped to the water station, grabbed a cup, and threw it back. Wilcox appeared beside me. “You’re fucking up this entire assignment,” he told me with a suck of his teeth. “You’re actin’ slow as hell. The pussy here is free and available. I’ve had a different female every night. Hell, every morning, too.” He chuckled. “Andevery afternoon. These bitches love us.”
“They might love you.”
“They definitely love ya boy. I’m settin’ a personal record on how much pussy I can get in a week.”
“I guess that’s what’s up,” I told him with a shoulder shrug.
He looked me up and down with disgust written all over his face. “You turning down all this free pussy to run behind Thigh Meat?”
“Motherfucka, I told you not to call her that.”
“I don’t know her fuckin’ name,” he said in defense of the made-up name he called her.
“Whatever. Enjoy yourself. Do you.” My thoughts drifted to Soleil. She was probably sitting in her private cabana, typing on her laptop while she held the phone with her shoulder. I couldn’t wait to see her later. The chicks at this clinic didn’t have shit on her.
7
SOLEIL
“Boo!” she yelled into the phone, like me having eardrums wasn’t a thing. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Hey, Bria,” I said sheepishly, using her nickname in hopes it would buy some leniency with her. I already knew what direction the conversation was about to go in.
“Don’they, Briame, heifer. Why haven’t I heard from you in three days? I thought you were somewhere dead in that damn hotel, just waiting to have your body discovered.”
“So morbid.”
“Don’t play with me. You were supposed to check in. If not every day, at least every other day. It takes five seconds to send a text that says,damn, bitch, I’m alive.”
“I know. I know. I told you that I met somebody.”
“You met somebody? This isn’t about to be one of those stories about a black woman leveling some white man up, is it? I’m so sick of that shit.”
I had to laugh. “I think that trend has passed, friend. And no, this isn’t that. It’s Spencer Charles, remember?”
