Page 88 of Obsessive Love
“Exactly,” I nodded. “You worry about loving on the Point Guard, so she’s happy and will lead my team to a damn championship.”
“I got my woman; don’t worry about her,” he laughed. His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. From the stupid ass smile on his face, I knew it was Legacy. I gave Hood shit about his relationship, but I was happy for him. I knew how he felt about Legacy for over a year, and seeing him step up gave a nigga like me hope. They were complete opposites; Hood was,well, a hood nigga, and Legacy wasn’t. But they were made for each other. “Speaking of my woman, I need to go.”
“She told you to bring your ass home, huh?” I laughed as I stood.
“Nah, she’s about to go hang out with Mama for a little, so I’m going to go meet up with Pop and check in with him.”
“Give her a kiss for me and tell Mr. Bowlin I said what’s up,” I said, then hugged Hood. “Y’all are in my prayers every night and morning.” I patted his back two times.
“We appreciate it,” Hood said, then let me go. “I’ll see you at the arena later this week?”
“For sure,” Hood agreed. “I don’t want to go to that shit, but I’ll be there to support you and my woman.”
“Bet.” I rounded the desk and walked Hood out.
Once Hood was gone, I returned to my office to review a few reports and watched Fable in the kitchen through the cameras. The W’s press luncheon was coming up, and seeing her preparing was dope. I knew she didn’t want me in the kitchen, so I gave her space. I wouldn’t stress her unnecessarily, at least not right now. My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen, groaning. Morning only called me on my work phone when something was wrong.
“Which one of my players are you about to bail out?” I said, getting straight to the point.
“None of them,” he chuckled.
“Coach?” I sighed. Everybody thought players were the hardest to deal with when owning teams, but that wasn’t true. Coaches usually came with a bigger ego and a million and one fucking demands. I leaned back in my seat and wiped my hand over my mouth. “What’s this about to cost me?”
“Nothing,” he answered.
“Then, what’s the problem?” I leaned forward, ready for whatever bomb he was about to drop on me that was going to piss me off.
“Diara’s husband is getting out of jail,” he announced, and I dropped my head. This was not what I wanted to hear right now.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Does she know?”
“Nah, not yet,” he replied. “I put out some feelers to get more information before I said anything to her. I was giving you a heads up.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?” he questioned with a humorless chuckle.
“Why are you telling me, and why doesn’t Diara know yet?”
“Because you're about to see a lot more of me,” he answered.
“Morning, my nigga,” I laughed because if he was giving me a heads up, then it was more to the story. “What do you mean? I’m about to see a lot more of you. What are you coming around for?”
“Diara,” he said with a finality that left no argument.
“Alright, bro,” I said, nodding. “Alright.”
“I’ll be in contact,” he said, and the call ended.
I dropped back in my seat and wiped my hands over my face. Diara had a complicated past. Her ex-husband was supposed to be doing a twenty-year bid; he’d only been locked up for two years. Something wasn’t right. I reached for my phone to call Morning, but stopped when I heard glass break.
“This fucking girl,” I sighed and stood up. “Itty Bitty!”
“Stop fucking calling my name, Pyrite,” Fable yelled back, and I chuckled.
Watermelon flew into the room and sat on my desk. “Home,” she screeched. “Home!”
FABLE
