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Briyana
Never in a millionyears did I see myself becoming a business owner.
A boss?
Absolutely.
But a whole entrepreneur and independent custom footwear designer?
That was completely unfamiliar territory.
And it was a whole lot of fuckin’ work.
When Lance first gave me the idea, I honestly thought it would be some cute little side hustle where I occasionally got paid decent money to customize sneakers. But from the second he’d shared that post on his Instagram not even a week ago, I’d literally been flooded with hundreds of messages from people requesting my services, forcing me to figure everything out on the fly so that I could at least make an attempt at being able to manage it all.
There wassomuch to manage though.
From creating the actual designs and then fielding orders left and right, to answering the same damn customer service questions over and over again until I wised up and added an FAQ page to the bare bones website I’d literally built by myself overnight. And then there was this whole thing of creating a brand and maintaining a social media presence which oftentimes felt unrealistic with all the other shit I was responsible for. Not to mention, I was also still working part-time at Just Kickin’ It.
Even though money was already starting to come in, I didn’t quite feel comfortable quitting my job until I’d successfully delivered my first batch of orders. And since that would take at least another two to three weeks, I was stuck pulling double duty, leaving me exhausted, and overwhelmed, and also grateful as fuck since I was finally doing something I absolutely loved… thanks to the man I was falling in love with.
Every time I expressed how appreciative I was, Lance acted like it was no big deal, or like he was just doing what he was supposed to do. But I refused to downplay his influence since not only had he been the one to voluntarily support my art when he initially asked me to do a design for him, but he’d also gone out of his way to promote it to his millions of followers for free, putting me in position to really leverage my talent in a way I didn’t even know was possible until he’d suggested I do so.
And it didn’t stop there.
Though the grind of the season was keeping him busy, he still managed to stay in my ear with constant encouragement, sending me voice memos throughout the day that reminded me I was “built for this” and sacrificing sleep just to give me a shoulder rub when he could tell I was most stressed. And honestly, the impact of stuff like that was truly immeasurable, making me anxious to return the favor since I could tell the pressure of the season was beginning to weigh on him.
He hadn’t talked about it much. In fact, it almost seemed like he’d intentionally been avoiding any and all conversations about what was really going on with his squad. But I could see it in his demeanor over the past two weeks that the losses were starting to take a toll on his psyche, something I imagined to be especially bothersome since it wasn’t like he was playing bad as an individual.
It was the team -morespecifically, the offense- who was fucking up. And I suppose that was why I personally preferred track over a lot of the other sports.
Of course, there were relays and stuff that required a team effort. And in college, we were technically competing as individuals to earn the team points in order to win the meet for our school. But when it came to my actual race, I didn’t have to rely on anyone else to win. I could just lock in, focus on my mechanics, and do what needed to be done to either get the gold, run a personal best, or both.
Or neither.
Still, no matter what happened, I was in complete control of my own destiny. And that was a privilege that Lance simply didn’t have as a team player.
I mean sure, he could set a personal best record for tackles, or force a record number of fumbles, or even score a rare touchdown. But people didn’t seem to care as much when those things didn’t amount to a win for the team. And unfortunately, tonight’s game hadn’t played out any differently than the two before it, worsening the Skyhawks’ already losing record and putting the responsibility on their top players to explain what exactly had gone wrong.
Lance looked good as fuck in that postgame interview though.
He was obviously aggravated about the loss and seemed to be even more annoyed that he had to talk about it right after the fact. But the frustration on his face and in his tone took nothing away from how damn handsome he was in the hoodie and fitted cap that went perfectly with the sneakers I’d designed for him, the chain and watch he had on only bringing extra fineness to the ensemble that made me forget I was supposed to be listening to what he was saying.
Surely, he was giving the same routine answers any other professional football player gave after a tough loss. And with that in mind, I didn’t feel bad about being so distracted, lusting freely until my phone buzzed with a call from my mother who I kind of wanted to ignore.
Not that our relationship wasn’t improving.
In fact, we’d actually had a decent time together a few weeks back when we shared drinks and appetizers with Nala. But having a third-party present had definitely helped to get us through the awkward moments; moments I wasn’t sure I had the energy to navigate by myself if I were to pick up the phone right now.
So I didn’t, letting it vibrate in my hand until it registered as a missed call. But when her name almost immediately popped up again with another call, I started to worry, thinking maybe she was reaching out to me with an actual emergency that made it imperative for me to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Bri Bri. What are you doin’?” she asked casually, letting me know this was,in fact, not an emergency. And even though I suppose it was my fault for assuming that my mother’s back-to-back calls would be an urgent situation and not just a symptom of her being dramatic, it was still hard not to be a little annoyed with her when I plainly responded, “Working.”
“You’re at work this late on a Sunday?”
Shaking my head like she could see me, I explained, “Actually, I umm… sort of started a business. Designing and selling custom shoes.”
