Page 23 of Play Hard
Portia extended her arm across the table, thrusting her phone in my direction. “Don’t read the comments,” she said.
I took the phone from her and frowned the moment I saw the picture of me and Adrian from a New Year’s party we’d attended this year. It was the same night we got engaged. I couldn’t front; we were a beautiful couple. Me with my golden-brown complexion, full beat on my face, not a hair out of place in a blunt cut, a silver Versace cocktail dress and Adrian in all black—slacks, button front shirt, and all black Bow101s, the tennis shoe named after him. Diamonds glistened from his watch, the two carat studs in his ears, and the white gold Cuban link chain around his neck. The caption read:
Adrian Bowman, one of the best on-ball playmakers in the NBA, who’s also slated to head the roster for the NBA’s newest team in Vegas next season is in hot water…with the NBA Commissioner and his fine ass agent/fiancée Serra Ward.
“Shit,” I whispered, pressing the button that would display the comments.
“Don’t do it, girl,” Portia warned again from across the table.
“Nah, I fully subscribe to the ‘to be forewarned is to be forearmed’ mantra,” Camy replied. “Read on so you’ll know exactly what you’re up against.”
“Social media is the devil,” Rylan said.
“Ughhh.” Camy groaned. “You’ve definitely been around Del too long.”
Portia chuckled. “And that’s how the two of you met. But now neither of you like it. That’s funny as hell.”
“That’s weird as hell,” Camy shot back.
I heard the women speaking but I kept my gaze on the comments.
BossLady555
She was gettin’ the dick and the money.
Shineshay11*
How fuckin’ stupid could they both be? Guess that’s why they were together.
WhitNEEJ
Who gets their side chick pregnant these days?
BroBroDaz10
Now, y’all know she trapped that man. Lindsey Loren is messy as fuck!
**Keeyta**
Serra has way more class than Lindsey. You fucked up bigtime, Adrian.
PoohPantzz
Lindsey about to secure the bag.
And on and on they went. There were over six hundred comments to this post alone. It was on one of the sports network’s pages. I closed my eyes, clenching the phone that didn’t even belong to me because I knew there were more. When Michaela told me Adrian had issued a statement earlier today, she hadn’t mentioned the social media storm about the situation. That was probably why he made the statement in the first place.
“You wanna talk about it?” Portia asked as she reached across the table again and took my hand.
The situation wasn’t news to them. Like I said, we clicked on that first night, and by the time we’d downed a few pounds of steamed shrimp, corn on the cob, roasted potatoes and broccoli for Portia—none of the rest of us liked it—I was comfortable enough to tell them why I was here in town.
“All I know is she’s wild for releasing the photo shoot of her little ass baby bump, the same day this story broke on all social networks,” Rylan said.
“Or she’s a marketing genius. Her net worth probably just skyrocketed,” Camy added.
“What net worth? She’s a high school newspaper editor turned reporter for a digital gossip column,” Rylan shot back.
“And she’s going to be the mother of Adrian’s baby,” I said, passing the phone back to Portia. “Listen, ladies, this isn’t news to me. I’m good with it.”
