Vérité (31 page)

As soon as we got outside, he asked, “She want more? She pining for more of this?” He ran his hand up and down his body. “I don’t do that. Got my lady back home. Here is just . . . fun and shit. Ball babies and groupies, ya know that, right?”

“Jamel, I’m not in a position to judge.” I snatched the garbage bag from his hand and walked toward the Dumpster.

“It’s different with Tiberius,” he said from behind me. “I’m not him, but he’s not into ball babies. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not,” I said, the slamming of the Dumpster drowning the agitation in my voice. I turned and brushed past him, marching back to the townhouse, afraid I was going to cave and tell him everything.

“Then what’s the big fucking deal?” he called after me. “She knows I don’t really do seconds and shit, and she had me a few times.”

I stopped in my tracks on the little pathway back to the door and turned to stare Jamel down. Funny how I was so scared of him the first time we met, and now I was the one with the upper hand. “She got knocked up, Jamel.”

His eyes grew wide. “What’d you just say?”

“She was pregnant.”

“
Was
? What do you mean
was
? How the fuck do you know it’s mine?” he said through clenched teeth.

I sighed, knowing I had to tell him the rest. “She was pregnant with your baby, and now she’s healing. On her own. That’s what I know.”

“Fuck, that bitch had no right!” he yelled. “That’s my baby!” Turning, he took off running up the hill.

I should have felt guilty for sharing a secret that wasn’t mine to tell, but I didn’t. Stacy had gone to Tiberius and told him about Coach Smith, and we’d worked it out because of her. Jamel wouldn’t care what was wrong with Stacy or if she wanted more if he didn’t have feelings for her. Maybe they’d work something out.

I hoped.

The next day I woke up, got a ride to the mall, and used a little of my funds to buy a disposable phone and a new cell phone complete with a different number. My preference would have been to wait a few days to do what I had to do, but I knew if my parents didn’t call off this Smith guy, Tiberius would go after him.

The guys were already making plans for a setup. They wanted me to go to a game and wait for Smith to approach, then keep him occupied until the end of the game when I could deliver him to them.

I wasn’t doing that. No way was I risking Tiberius getting hurt or in trouble. The whole fiasco with Logan was enough; I didn’t want the team defending me anymore.

So I called my parents using the disposable. My dad answered on the second ring using his pompous, professional greeting, probably since I’d blocked my number so it would show up on his caller ID as
PRIVATE
.

“Colt Simmons.”

“Dad, it’s me.”

I paced the length of my small bedroom as Chey and Tiberius sat on my bed, nodding their heads in a steady beat of encouragement.

“Why are you calling from a strange number?”

“Listen, Dad, I changed my number again. I don’t want you to try to get it or contact me or hand deliver any past lovers to my door. I’ve met with a lawyer. The trust is secure and in my name, and there’s nothing you can do to get your hands on it, so you may as well leave me alone.”

“Tingly,” he growled through the small flip phone.

“I’m serious, Dad. Tell Mom too. I appreciate what you all did for me growing up—whatever that was despite all your little antics—but this last stunt was something. Words don’t even describe it.”

“What stunt? I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he shouted.

“Coach Smith and his little ploy to get me away from Tiberius.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Plus, I thought you were done with that ni—boy.”

“What were you going to say, Dad? Speak up! Did you forget the polite and proper politically correct version of yourself for a second?”

My eyes welled up with tears, but despite the conflict ensuing over the phone, they were happy tears. I was taking control, and it felt good. In the past, I’d acted—ignoring calls, changing phones, and switching brokers—but had never spoken. It was time I spoke up for myself.

“Tingly, you need better than that sports player. On scholarship.”

“
I’m on an athletic scholarship
!” I screamed.

Chey stood and came to put her arm around me, while Tiberius sat on the edge of the bed with his fists clenched.

“Nothing matters what you say now, Dad. This is over. Whatever you, Mom, and I were is O.V.E.R.” I spelled out the last word for emphasis, and as each letter rolled off my tongue, my resolve strengthened.

“You’re making a B.I.G. mistake,” my dad said, mocking my spelling out words.

“No, you did when you sent the mysterious Coach Smith to see me. Didn’t you think I’d find out that there
is
no
Coach Smith?”

He didn’t let me finish my tirade. Not Colt Simmons, he had to get the last word. “So what if I sent him? I was trying to do you a big favor. Good-bye, Tingly,” he said, and hung up without another word.

I threw the damn phone into the wall and the case cracked. Hurrying over to where it fell, I stomped on it, crushing the last remnant of any relationship with my parents. Then I started laughing hysterically, bent over in full-on giggles, while Chey stood behind me, rubbing soothing circles on my back.

Tiberius stood up to gather me in my arms. “It’s okay. I got her,” he said, dismissing Chey, then he turned to me, his voice soft. “Rex, sit down, babe. You’re going through something.”

He guided me to the bed, but I couldn’t just sit there.

“No, I’m not!” I shouted. “I’m fucking delirious. Let them have the last word. I’m done with them for good, and now that Smith asshole won’t be lurking around anymore.”

I stood up as Chey made her way out my bedroom door, pumping her fist into the air and chanting, “Woot!”

Tiberius stood up and cornered me against the dresser, pressing close to dip his forehead against mine. “Yeah, I wish you’d gone through with setting Smith up, but this was your call, babe.”

“I know,” I said. “Is that okay? I needed this. Needed to do it my way.” It came out hushed, crashing with the heavy breathing rising from my chest.

He nodded. “Plus the guys did a number on Pierre.”

“And I got you now . . . forget having the last word with my parents.
J’ai la vérité dans mes mains
.” Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I pulled him in for a kiss.

“English, Rex,” he rumbled. He stopped the kiss, impatient for me to answer, his lips hovering over mine.

“It means I’ve got the truth in my hands,” I explained. “Fuck everyone, I have you.”

“Nah, fuck me!”

“Tiberius, are you getting dirty on me?” Grinning, I wrestled him to the bed and straddled his lap.

He didn’t answer; he showed me. Turned out we didn’t need any English after all.

“C
ome on, Stephanie! You’re a slave driver!” I shouted as I rounded the track for the umpteenth time, and she yelled, “Two more.” Her voice carried in the wind as I wound my way through the lanes one more time, secretly loving the burn. Pushing my quads, I passed Nadine and kicked up dust in my wake.

It was March, and we were back to regular outdoor practices every morning before classes. The track was typically desolate at that time, other than the random university employee getting in a workout before work. The sky was shrouded in a fine layer of fog as the sun made its way high into the sky, and my cheeks pinked quickly as the temperature rose. Mostly I ran home from practice, but occasionally I was social and grabbed breakfast with the other girls. A big part of the conversation was always focused on why we’d been split from the men’s team. I’d played a big role, but they didn’t know that.

After I’d made up with Tiberius, and Stacy had come clean with Jamel, the prospect of keeping everything a secret about Logan festered in my gut. Finally, toward the end of February, I called a meeting with Coach Wallace and Stephanie, and explained what had happened. Jamel came with me to lend support and to corroborate my story.

In the end, it was my word against Logan’s. The coach couldn’t do much about it, especially since Logan had already sat out a suspension due to his imaginary fight. My report went on his record as an accusation made against him. Hopefully, that tidbit plus my threats that the guys were watching him would keep Logan in line. The one thing the coach did do was to separate our practices, forcing the men to take the warmer afternoon slot.

“One more!”

Stephanie’s shouts trailed behind me as I picked up my pace for my last lap. When I finally came to a stop by the Gatorade cooler, I almost fell into a large wall.

“Hey,” Tiberius said.

Thrilled to see him, I jumped up and down on my already exhausted legs. “You’re back? Congrats! Elite Eight! Woo-hoo!”

The men’s basketball team was in the middle of March Madness, having won enough games to narrowly make it into the final eight teams remaining the night before. I had to settle for watching on TV rather than in person because of my practices. Chey, Stacy, and I jumped and cheered all around the common area after each basket Hafton scored.

Tiberius smiled at my enthusiastic greeting before leaning down and brushing his lips over my cheek. “Got back about three o’clock this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

I pouted at him, making sure my disappointment was evident.

“Rex, you needed to sleep and get up for practice. Don’t read into it.”

I pulled up on my tippy toes and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was chaste and quick, but delivered my silent apology.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back,” he said.

I took off in a light jog until Tiberius grabbed me by the waist and tossed me over his shoulder. “I said walk, not run, T. I’m exhausted, and no one can keep up with you.”

“Ha! You’re tired,” I said, gloating just a little. “What did you do? Did you see what I just ran?”

His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he set me back down. “Yeah, I did, which is why you should walk.” He turned toward the dorms, moving at a leisurely pace, and I settled into stride next to him.

“So, are we celebrating tonight?” I asked, my mouth curving up in the corners.

“The win, yes. The other thing, no.”

“Nope, we are going out for your birthday!” I taunted him. “Mel and I got the whole thing planned.”

“Tingly, I told you I didn’t want to do that,” he said with a frown.

“Yeah, I know, but we are. We’re going to the diner for dinner and then heading out to that techno dance place.”

He slanted me a dubious look. “All of a sudden you’re a party girl?”

“Just for tonight. We need to celebrate, Ty. And I may have ordered a cake.”

He shook his head, blowing out a deep breath. Despite his reluctance to be the center of attention, he’d love it once we got started celebrating everything that was Tiberius. And there was a lot to celebrate. He was a truly good guy—no, the best. He was also slated to be the starting shooting guard next season, and was a great friend, an even better boyfriend, and the most amazing lover.

Once we reached my dorm, he stopped outside and said, “I’m starving. Let’s go get breakfast. What time are your classes?”

“I don’t start until noon today, but what about you?”

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “We’re excused today and tomorrow because of the tournament.”

“You suck,” I said, slapping his chest. “The girls are gonna be so pissed. They’re never excused from anything.”

“Don’t tell ’em. Hurry up and go get changed so we can eat.”

“I gotta shower,” I said innocently, then looked up at him through my eyelashes. “Wanna join me?”

He flung the door open to my building, holding it wide with his arm. I ducked under and headed for the elevator.

“Not hungry anymore, Rex,” was all he said as I pushed the button for my floor.