Page 75 of Fumble Into the End Zone

How is your forehead?

Me

It’s fine. Do you miss me?

Wifey

A little.

I smiled at the phone and tucked it back in my pocket.

Two hours later, I sat and watched film with the offensive coordinator and my phone buzzed again. Two five-thousand-dollar purchases hit my black card back-to-back. Bryce peeked over at me.

“Did somebody steal your card?” he questioned as he sat up.

Another transaction for two thousand dollars hit my card soon after, and Bryce’s mouth parted.

“You stay in my business. Mia is out shopping,” I said, and then grinned.

“I can’t believe yo cheap ass ain’t having a heart attack,” he said.

“I’m cheap when it comes to me. My woman and princess can get whatever. Now you see why I have to be cheap.”

“When is Mia going to tell Kindness about y’all being in a serious relationship? I hate keeping secrets from her and it’s killing me,” Bryce said.

I shrugged. At an early age, I learned to stay out of women’s business. They fight and make up differently than men. When Mia wanted her to know, I was sure she would tell her. As long as Mia didn’t pack her clothes and leave me, I didn’t care.

“How many touchdowns are we giving Vick this week?” I asked to steer the conversation from my personal life.

Bryce exhaled a hard, long breath. Kindness had my guy backtracking and side stepping around his original plan. He may not want to admit it, but he was changing. Anger used to consume him, but he has a calmed demeanor nowadays.

“To keep me off the couch, I would say one. Dodson and Mackamore would double him and jam him at the line of scrimmage. You’re faster than everybody on the secondary, including Vick’s slow ass,” Bryce said and I shook my head.

The power of a woman.

Mia

Standing in the doorway of Marcus’s walk-in closet, my thoughts lingered in confusion. Noise Level Shoes aligned the closet floor, alluding to him having an endorsement deal. Clothing wise, he didn’t have a fourth of Harley’s closet. Outside of the brand deal with Plaid, the shelves were sweatshirts and T-shirts. None ofthis made sense, but I was going to change it. I opened the notes app on my phone, copied down his sizes and headed out the door.

Driving in downtown Houston at any time of day was hectic. The traffic alone pushed me several times to consider moving, but Texas held my heart. As I sat in traffic, my mother’s name appeared on the screen. Pressing the button, I answered. “Hi, Mom.”

“Mia, I have exciting news. Harley’s first dance class is next week. Monica was more than happy to fit her in,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, Monica had an open spot because Trendy waved a check in her face.

“We need to get her fitted for a leotard. I have my designer on call,” she said and squealed afterward.

“Mom, one, Harley doesn’t need a designer leotard. Two, you paid Monica, and I know you did; and three, she needs a week. Mrs. Eddy boarded the plane for Memphis, and she’s been sad all morning. It broke my heart. Mom, those big brown eyes of hers were filled with tears right along with her daddy’s.”

The phone fell silent for several minutes.

“Mia, maybe we need to push up the purchase of her pony,” she said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Or you could create her a feel better basket,” Mom suggested.

Thinking back to my childhood, my mom’s feel better basket always did the trick. She decorated a box, loading it with treats and activities. We unloaded it and discussed my big emotions, she would say.

---