Page 6 of Keeping Busy
“His sports management representative...I think that’s what he called her.”
“That sounds right.” I said, chomping into my third tea cake.
“She wants to help him clean up his image, and one of her suggestions is that he make appearances with and be photographed with a nice young lady at important events, like this charity event situation he has coming up.”
My delicious cookie turned to sawdust in my mouth.
For real, Auntie Bo?I wanted to ask, but I knew better.
“He knows tons of women. Tons of tons. I’m sure one of his ho...lady friends would be happy to help him. He doesn’t need me. He wouldn’t want me. As a matter of fact, does he even know you’ve got me over here trying to drag me into his business?”
“No, he doesn’t.” She admitted. “But that doesn’t matter, because when I tell him that you’re his girl, he won’t give me any back talk...unlike you.”
I laughed. “Auntie…”
“Pudding, this is serious. I know you aren’t friends with Busy, and he’s just the kid from across the street to you, but I love that boy. And I loved his grandmama, God rest her soul. He only has a few years left in the league, and I want him to end on a high note. He’s been an upstanding example of black excellence throughout his career. All he did was pick the wrong heifer to run around with and now his reputation and good name are in jeopardy.”
“Well, he did pick her.” I shrugged my shoulders and swigged the last of my hot chocolate. “He kinda only has himself to blame.”
“He lost his grandmama, Mecca Noelle Goode. She raised him since he was ten years old.”
Shit.It was getting real. She used my whole name. Playtime was apparently over.
“Do you think you would have the capacity to be your best self and make airtight decisions if Janaye Goode dropped dead?”
If my mama dropped dead, I would be somewhere balled up, so I got her point. “You’re right.” I admitted.
“Show people the same grace and mercy that you would want them to show you.” She scolded. “Now, as I was saying, he needs your help.”
“Okay, on the strength of my love for you, I would probably help him. I mean, we kinda grew up together. We’re certainly not friends, but we aren’t enemies. But you don’t understand what you’re asking, Auntie. Maddox Mayhew is in the NFL, he’s famous. His face is on billboards, in magazines, on television. His name is on gym shoes, on the back of jerseys. There are entire websites dedicated to being his fan. He probably has a gang of social media followers. Any girl that gets involved with him, even if it is just for appearances sake is going to be subjected to the skewering...the dragging from internet trolls. People are going to delve into my background, my past, my business and try to find out things about me, about my family. Pictures and videos are going to show up on the internet. It’s not like I can go to dinner with Busy, go home and just live. Look at the chick who lied on him, she’s been the top story in the media for weeks now, and for what? I don’t want that.”
“You’re the one, Mecca. The only one.” She said softly.
Who the fuck was I? Neo from The Matrix? Why the hell was I the one? I looked into her face, and I had my answer.
I sighed heavily. “You been talking to dead people, again, Auntie?”
My Auntie Bo talked to more dead people than that little boy in the movie. I didn’t understand how she got to have all these conversations with dead people, but I was glad that I didn’t have that ability.
“I don’t talk to dead people, they show me stuff in my dreams.”
“And they showed you me?” I asked, before I thought better of it. Then I held up my hand. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
We sat there in silence for a few moments. Finally, I sighed again. “Auntie, have Maddox come over here. I’ll talk to him about it. I’m not promising that I’m going to do it, but I’ll at least promise to talk to him about it.”
Damn!I thought to myself. This wasn’t my best idea.
Maddox “Busy” Mayhew walked into my Auntie Bo’s house looking like a more muscular, taller, sexier, more handsome, more panty-wetting version of the boy that used to ignore me growing up. I watched from the cut as he stepped into the foyer, and pulled my aunt into a hug.
“You and my grandma figured all of my problems out last night in your dreams?” He teased.
I shook my head and chuckled silently. My aunt wasn’t ashamed to let anybody know that dead people felt perfectly comfortable coming to her and “chopping it up” in the middle of the night.
“Let’s sit in the front room and talk. Come on, Pudding.”
And that was when Maddox Mayhew noticed me. The easy smile that he had been wearing for my aunt faded from his countenance. His face registered several thoughts and emotions that I couldn’t read, but when it landed on, “oh, hell nah,” I knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Miss Bo,” he said, completely stopping his forward motion. “Please don’t let this be what I think it is.”
