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“Like I said, I was snapping pictures around the stadium. He was wearing a suit and looking out at the field, so I also snapped some images of him.”
“Why did you do that?”
“He looked picture-ready like he was dressed for a photo shoot, and the shots were natural of him peering out at thestadium. They were the kind of images that could be used for stock photos. Actually, they would be perfect for them.”
“Hm, is that right?”
“It is. Wayne, I’ve been capturing natural images of people and nature all over town for the past few months. I had planned to show you my portfolio instead of discussing the lipstick on your collar, but that didn’t happen.”
“I see.” I take a moment to take in everything she’s saying. I want to be happy for her the same way I was happy for Jasmine’s chance to be on the cheer team, but something doesn’t sit well with me about my woman observing my boss’s supposed photogenic perfection, randomly taking pics of him, and him offering her a job. “So, let me get this clear, you were snapping pictures of Keith because he looked good in a suit, and he offered you a contract? Just like that.”
“Yes, just like that.”
“Well, that’s awful flattering of you and awful nice of him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leslie snarls.
“Nothing, baby.” I have upgraded from her ignoring my calls to having her on the line and willing to talk to me. I can’t fuck up now. “We’ll talk about it after the game tomorrow.”
“You know what, Wayne, have a great game. I’ll be there in spirit.”
“Leslie, please don’t hang up.” I keep making things worse. “Please,” I beg, trying to gather my things to leave for the stadium. “I need my good luck charm on my side. I don’t want you to keep getting upset with me.” I already knew she wasn’t traveling to Boston for the game, but I couldn’t stand the thought of us ending another interaction this way.
“I’ll always be on your side. But Wayne, I need you on my side too. You better fix the way you feel about a lot of things or else—”
“Or else what?” My heart throbs so loudly that I can hear it in my ears. She can do anything in response to my coming home late, but she can’t leave me. I wouldn’t know what to do if that happened.
“Or else I can’t do this anymore,” she clarifies.
We talked for a few more minutes before the call ended, but I can’t remember what was said. All I can recall is...I can’t do this anymore.
I must make it through this week and get home to my woman. Truth is, I hate not having her by my side after the games. Not knowing she’s somewhere in the arena for my first playoff game will be tough. As quiet as it’s kept, I long to have my baby tucked underneath my arm as I walk off the field after a game, so I’m determined to find a way to fix it to satisfy us both.
Jeremiah peeks into the locker room and yells, “Coach is screaming for everyone to get their asses to the field.”
We’re at our practice stadium, built into a small retreat with sleeping rooms and the works. The past week has gotten us into a playoff and Super Bowl-winning mindset. I have worked hard at it, but desiring to be in a good place with Leslie takes up the bulk of the space in my mind.
“Coming out now,” I tell Jeremiah. I look at my phone before I drop it into my bag and head out of the locker room, following him.
The playoffs begin tomorrow. I have to keep my head in the game.Unfortunately, the man paying me to win championships has unknowingly complicated my ability to concentrate on winning by offering Leslie a contract to be a Saint’s photographer.
Chapter Eleven
LESLIE
Love Anonymous
After long thought and consideration, I decide not to travel to Wayne's first playoff game in San Francisco. It's not that I don't love him and hope he wins. I just need time to consider everything bothering me. And if I'm being honest, I'd say knowing I have to wait until everyone else spends time with him before and after the game gives me pause.
It may be selfish, but I refuse to travel over 800 miles and not be acknowledged. This is me drawing my line in the sand. This is me establishing a boundary with Wayne. He has made the decisions regarding our relationship status and how we present it to people for a very long time, and now I'm taking a bit of the power back to show him that he can't have it both ways. He can't have me there with him without having me there with him. I have allowed him to have it his way long enough.
I stay home and watch the game on TV. His mother is there to cheer him on. The cameras zoom in on the section to show her and his godmother waving their blue and yellow pompoms when he finally answers San Francisco's last two touchdowns.
Wayne is not 100% in the game. He makes mistakes that have me holding my breath each second that dwindles from the clock. I cringe when he throws the ball to a wide receiver covered by two men, neglecting to see Jeremiah wide-open. He holds the ball too long in the next play and gets sacked.
We will never ever argue before a game, especially not one as important as his first playoff. The last thing I want is for himto get injured because something I said got into his head and took him out of the game.
I grab my cell phone and send back-to-back text messages with GIFs, emojis, anything and everything to show him my love. I hope he'll check his phone during halftime and understand that while we have different opinions of how to handle our relationship, I still am very much pulling for him.
