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She felt a hand on her back. “Kells,” a familiar, tender voice said. It was the unmistakable way Ms. Annette said her name during voice lessons even when she was pushing Rakell, her forceful voice laced with compassion. “Kells, so nice of you to come out for Jake and Dwayne’s party,” her French accent reaching Rakell’s ears before Rakell’s eyes took her in.
Turning she said, “Ms. Annette!” not hiding her surprise as her arms went around her singing teacher.Oh my God, Ms. Annette is Jake’s mom. Shit, that’s why his French pronunciation is perfect.Damn, as much as the media wanted to boast that Austin was a cosmopolitan city, it was still a small town. Ms. Annette, as her students called her, Annette Sabir, the owner of a waitlist-only dance and voice studio, was Jake’s mom. Simultaneously, she felt welcome and more nervous. Now the information she was determined to share about herself with Jake seemed even more painful to deliver.
Coaxing an easy smile, Rakell said, “You’re Jake’s mom? That’s why I felt like I knew Jenae from somewhere when he showed me a picture of his sisters. I didn’t put it together until just now, a little slow.” It struck her then that Jake’s mom knewshe was the girl on the Jumbotron cheering for Jake, but she hadn’t told her son.Jake would have said something for sure,Rakell thought.
Ms. Annette offered a slight shake of her head. “No, you’re not. I don’t have pictures of family up at the studio, and I no longer use the name ‘Skyler.’ Once Jake started playing for the NFL, I opted to use my maiden name to avoid questions and unwanted attention,” she said, offering Rakell a knowing smile. “So how would you know? I have not said anything to Jake that I knew who you were at the San Antonio game. He’ll let me know about how my loyalties are skewed later.” A soft chuckle rolled from her mouth as she looped her arm through Rakell’s. “I didn’t want to be cross-examined with a million questions, so my lips were sealed. I did, of course, confide in my husband. He thinks it’s quite comical.”
Rakell let herself laugh. “Oh, so it’s not just me. Jake never stops with one question for anybody?”
“Oh noooo, Jake gets answers even if there aren’t any,” she laughed. Her eyes went toward a table near the dance floor. “Let me introduce you to more family.” Shocked, Rakell let herself be led by Annette Sabir, her singing instructor, a petite woman with jet-black hair cropped in an angular bob and black eyes set off by creamy fair skin. Ms. Annette was a woman she admired, she’d known for over a year, and who was Jake’s mom. Those facts, the tentacles of Jake’s life, intertwining with Rakell’s life made the information she had to share with Jake even more complicated. Would it be better just to go away quietly? But it was too late for that—that was for sure.You lost that option when you jumped up and down on one of the world’s largest Jumbotrons.
Jake hit Dwayne on the back, temporarily halting Dwayne’s brag session, since he was on a soapbox on how great he was, ever since winning MVP, Jake thought. “Sure, Dwayne, I hadnothing to do with the win,” Jake practically yelled, keeping his hand on Dwayne’s back as he eyed several other guys. “Who the hell do you think threw you all those great touchdown passes?” Jake chortled, the group of teammates jumped in with hooting laughter.
Dwayne halted mid-chuckle, his animated eyes growing wide. “Whoa...Oooh, this night’s going to be interesting, Pretty Boy,” he murmured, catching Jake’s mom at the front door, approaching Rakell with a look of recognition. He turned his head toward Jake. “Your Jumbotron cheerleader is here, and they seem to know each other,” Dwayne said, waving his hand toward the duo with great amusement.
Looking up, Jake saw his mom put her arm around Rakell, the familiarity of their interaction making him flinch even from a distance. Itdidlook like they knew one another.
As he took her in, his heart pushed against his rib cage, pounding so loudly he was sure Dwayne could hear it.God, she looks amazing, he thought, staring at her tight jeans tucked into high-heeled brown suede boots with a ribbed gold shimmery turtleneck and a puffy purple vest worn open…She wore the Condor colors,he thought, beaming.Damn, she wore our colors!Her hair was swept up in a high ponytail, and the vision of her bending over the balcony of the Driskill as he pumped her from behind, holding on to that ponytail for leverage, scooted right into his fucking brain.Dammit, Jake, what the hell?
“Dude, you gonna stare or maybe try going over there to say hi? Save yourself before your family fills her in about you.” Dwayne grinned. “Or you're screwed.”
Kinda already am, Jake thought. “Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, as usual,” he grumbled, shoving his shoulder into Dwayne’s thick upper arm before turning toward the table where all ‘his people’ were sitting.
Jake took his time making his way through the crowd, focusing on Rakell and his mom, who was introducing Rakell to the family as if she already knew her.Mom’s acting odd... God, Mom, if you knew what I know. His chest tightened. He needed to act as if he knew nothing, only that she was the girl that had willingly jumped up and down on the Jumbotron on a date with…Oh fuck, had she been a paid date for Roman…yes, that made sense…Oh fuck, every breath was a little harder to get into his lungs, as if the air was acid, burning with every intake.Oh God…that’s it, he bought her, and then she cheered for the other team’s quarterback. Shit, it all made sense.
He remembered looking Roman up. There was a lengthy story about his previous love life—the media is nice like that. Once you’re humiliated by one girl or fall for someone, they like to detail your dating history just to catch the world up to the present. Roman had been with a girl the media suspected he would marry until right before the playoffs, when she broke it off with him.Then he shows up with Rakell. What better way to get back at your ex than to be pictured with a hot chick…until she humiliates you in front of the world?At that moment, he felt bad for Roman.Fuck, the poor guy!
“Jaaake, Jaaake, we’re so proud of you. You proved everybody wrong.” That voice, that very thick twang. He’d grown up with that high-pitched, scratchy voice. It jolted him from the blaring message in his head,Rakell was Roman’s escort.The voice came from one of his aunt’s friends, whom Jake also called aunt because she’d known him since he was born, and she’d insisted on it. She also still talked to Jake like he was eight or maybe five. He wasn’t sure, but some younger version of himself. He hugged her briefly, trying to ignore the ‘you proved everybody wrong’ comment. Everything in him focused on Rakell. He wasn’t sure if he could keep his promise to Jenae as he put the pieces together of her and Roman and why shewas at that game, of all her lies that he’d swallowed like a starving puppy.Damn, Jake, you are a fucking sucker. Rage was mounting in his chest, making him storm toward the table.
He was stopped every few steps as he made his way through the crowd of partygoers, family friends congratulating him. Normally, he’d soak it up, welcoming them with open arms, but he had to fight the urge to blow them off, hyper-focused on Rakell. He finally got to the table where Melissa, her husband Tom, his niece and nephew, Jenae, Winnie, Jordan, Delilah, and Jasmine were all sitting. Jake could see his mom introducing Rakell to Melissa and others as he got closer.
Winnie and Jenae both stood up to meet Rakell. He stepped up, watching it all unfold as if it were on TV, just as Jenae said, “Glad you made it. We have heard so much about you and…”
Drawn in by her familiar dulcet tone, so similar to Jake’s mom, Rakell squeezed Jenae a little tighter just as she heard Jake blurt out, “Yeah, they have heard all about you!” His words were wrapped in agitation, blowing Rakell and Jenae apart like someone threw a firecracker between them.
Rakell’s eyes expanded, registering the tension emanating from Jake, his imposing energy leaving her speechless.What’s going on?“Jake,” she squeaked out. She’d seen this agitation etched into his face during some of his TV interviews since he’d left her house that night after she’d made it clear that they couldn’t spend the night together until they could talk. Even his texts to her over the last few days seemed to vacillate between short and blunt, then to fun and sexy, as if he couldn’t decide who she was to him. As she tried to make sense of the juxtaposing Jakes, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was preparing to tell her exactly what she had told him last spring—now he was the Super Bowl winner, and he wanted to seewhat else he could get, who else, to be specific. If women threw themselves at him before…Rakell could only imagine now.
Jenae cleared her throat through a stiff jaw, her eyes narrowing on Jake. “Jake, hey, way to make an entrance,” she said, but there was a new tone in her voice. Gone was the soothing sweetness, replaced by a scolding edge. “Jake, where are your manners, brother?” she said, directing her eyes from Jake toward Rakell.
Abruptly, Jenae grabbed Jake’s hand. “Sorry, Rakell, brother-sister spat, happens sometimes. We’ll be right back.”
Jake jerked his hand back. “No, I need to chat with Rakell,” he mumbled, his eyes still on her.
Rakell shifted back on her heels. He was acting as if he hadn’t invited her, as if she’d just shown up here. “Um…okay, I was just going to meet your dad…but…”
His mouth opened. “I think before we do the meet and greet family shit…we should…”
Jenae grabbed his hand again, her nails digging into his palm. “Jake, you promised me—promisedme—that when you had a moment, we could talk privately, and I understand that Rakell is here and you want to be with her, but I am requesting a minute of your time, superstar, and Iamyour sister…sooo…” she hissed out as she pulled on his hand.
“Jake, I’m fine. Go talk to Jenae. Ummm…I’ll just…”
“Dad, come meet Rakell…” Jenae yelled across the table. “Jake, outside!” Her tone was jarring as she pulled Jake’s hand toward her, stepping in front of him. “Come on, a promise is a promise.”
They moved past Rakell just as a tall grayish-blond-haired man approached her, his hand out, smiling, “Hi,Rae-kale, right? I’m David, Jake’s dad,” he said.
His cobalt blue eyes smiled at her, so similar to Jake’s, minus the intensity. He had a nurturing air that seemed to surround him; she’d seen that in Jake, but it defined this man.
She extended her hand to his. “Yes, Rakell,” she repeated, gulping back a giggle—not only did Jake inherit this man’s eyes, but their Texas accents mirrored each other and were much stronger than the women in the family. “Nice to meet you.”
