Player no more, p.1
Player No More, page 1
Player No More
Thomas Green, Jr.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by the author...
For
Acknowledgements
ONE
TWO
Were you thinkin’ bout me, baby
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELEVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
You can’t party you life away, drink your life away, smoke your life away, | fuck your life away, dream your life away, scream your life away. | ‘Cause your seeds will grow up the same way.
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
Must speak with media
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
I can love you, I can love you, I can love you, | I can love you better than she can.
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
Also by the author...
Love’s Home Run
Courting Miss Thang
When It Hurts So Bad
The Christmas Party
Tabu
Larry’s Girls
Purple Lipstick
Change For A Dyme
Decatur Cab
For
Marshall Alvin Chambliss Jr.
Also a Player No More, Al slowed down and got married in ‘99. He and his dad gave me my first real job out of high school and a chance to get out on my own. The man has always been a friend and supporter through crazy thick and thin.
Acknowledgements
Yeah, first I gotta thank Him for all this I got and what I will get.
Special thanks to my wife Kenya and her family for being my family from day one.
To my editor Dianne Valentin. I needed you like Kool Aid needs sugar. I taste better now. Can’t forget Roz Bankhead for adding the ice.
To all the bookstores of color that took me in. Especially: Black Images (Dallas); African Spectrum (ATL); Nubian Books (ATL); Dygnyti Books (CT); Ethnic Elegance (Jacksonville); Drumandspear.com; Garbo, Tracey and Jimmy at Pyramid in Little Rock.
To my friends in New York for keeping me in love even though I am a bumpkin now: Bruce (B-Love), Audrey & Cheese, Denise & Denise, Monique & Vincent, Pete, Freight Train, Big Rich, Imax, Ron, Juan, Sharon, Natiale, Aziza, Jessica, Harrison Lee, Ruthie, Tyesha & Mynetta,
Queens Mary and of course the one and only Tommy Maxwell.
To my Atlanta friends that made sure I didn’t shoot myself during the transition from Harlem to the ATL: Sharifa, Thyjuan, John, Kee-Kee, Big Boi, Harold Pullin, The Bunkleys, Henry Bunton, Patrick (you is a writer), Tony Bates, April, Big Daddy; the folk at Camelot: Marion, Vince, Antoine, Kim, Marcus (effing Braves fan), Gospel John; and all of the people that were so nice to me at Hertz.
To all the writers that showed me love: Gail McFarland, Camika Spencer, Kathleen Cross, Franklin White, Marc Taylor, Angela Benson, Breggie James, Teretha Houston, Kim Roby & her cool husband Will, Valerie Wilson Wesley, Van Whitfield, Eric Jerome Dickey, Omar Tyree, Deeva Denez, TA Griffin, Roy Glenn (from Da Bronx), Carolyn Butts (African Voices), Lawrence Aaron (Bergen Record), Erica Blount (Wall St. Journal), Tim Smith (NY Times), Miquel Burke (Vibe); Angela Rice (AIB), and especially Ronda Penrice.
ONE
Pablo Guzman was the anti-Oscar.
And that was what endeared Sondra Taylor and her family to the man. They didn’t take the time to get to know him, didn’t worry about what he did or said with Sondra and her three-year-old son Ladriguez. All they cared about was that Pablo was not Oscar Taylor.
Oscar Taylor was a famous major league baseball player, the league’s best hitter, best centerfielder and he played on the World Champion Portland Crowns. The Crowns were idolized and adored in Salem, Oregon. They were the home team.
But not many people in the small city south of Portland liked Oscar Taylor or Easy O as he liked to be call. The city didn’t care about Oscar’s achievements on the field, all they were concerned with was his shaky marriage to one of their own, Franklin and Doris Braithwaite's second of four daughters. People in Salem hated reading about Oscar’s affairs in the tabloids; they would be as hurt by them as the Braithwaite family was.
Growing up in Salem Sondra Braithwaite-Taylor was an admired young lady. She had attended Meier High where she was valedictorian, and was the voice that carried Union Baptist’s choir to extreme heights. Although she didn’t think so, Sondra was a very attractive woman with natural beauty. She had light features, skin the color of coffee with lots of cream. She was tall, standing five-foot-eight, and all legs–curvy legs. She could have easily been a super model and despite her height, she had the air about her of a petite baby doll. Sondra was often described as pristine.
Being Salem’s version of Aretha Franklin or Tyra Banks was far from what Sondra envisioned for herself. She wanted to be a wife and a mother. She saw teaching or a state social worker-type job in her future. Either way, she had never thought leaving Oregon was in her destiny.
It was while she was attending the State University in the city of Portland when she met Oscar Taylor and found love and adventure.
Pablo hadn’t grown up in Salem. He had come to the city to add another link to his chain of music stores in the Northwest. His CD Explosion stores sold new music for less than twelve bucks-no CD priced more than $11.99. A great deal, considering most new CDs cost $16.99. It was easy for him to sell music cheaply because his stock fell off the back of a truck.
Pablo’s newest store was three doors down from Flowers By Cicley, the flower shop owned by Sondra’s oldest sister. Sondra knew she needed to take her mind off of the breakup of her marriage to Oscar so she accepted the job, thinking getting out and about each day would help her feel better about life. She had finally succumbed to the prodding and nagging, of her sisters and mother. Sondra pushed herself out of bed, got a professional pampering–a manicure, pedicure, a facial and got her hair ‘did’. A week later she allowed her sister to put her on a schedule at the shop.
Sondra met Pablo while she was working in the shop and she was far from ready to date. Pablo was polite at first. He’d walk by and wave, linger outside when he knew she was coming in or leaving. Then one day he asked her to lunch. She had said no politely, with a smile so warm Pablo had to blink in admiration. She said no many more times before agreeing to have lunch with him at the tiny Chinese restaurant in the strip mall.
A couple of Chinese lunches grew into an early dinner date, a Sunday afternoon movie and finally blossomed into dinner and dancing in Portland. Cicley had advised Sondra that a rebound man, as the Braithwaites would call Pablo, could definitely take her mind off the pain, and add a little drama.
That was the night before the Crowns rallied for the victory that put them into the World Series, in mid-October. Oscar had called; he was missing her and felt sorry for destroying their relationship. Sondra’s mother took fine pleasure in telling him his wife was on a date.
Watching Oscar and the Crowns win the World Series hurt Sondra as much as him not loving her like she knew he could have did. She wanted to share in his finally reaching the pinnacle of the baseball world after years of losing the World Series. But it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t there.
It was more difficult attending Jack Newhouse’s wedding. Everybody was there, all the players and their wives. So many of them were friends and she just could not be around them any more. She still loved Oscar, was crazy about Jack and all the other assorted nuts on the Crowns. She stayed in the back ground of the wonderful ceremony, and silently prayed Jack would be the husband she knew he could be, praying he’d breakout of that ‘boys will be boys’ crap Oscar and he did and be a man.
Jack sought her out, thanking her for coming. She was choked up, delighted and saddened, and she didn’t say much.
After both emotional events, Pablo was there to hear her out and offer Sondra shoulder to cry on.
Pablo showed Sondra that he could be charming, sincere and persistent. He was tall, six-four and had sexy, dark Latino features; he had that Antonio Banderas action going on. Serious cheekbones and facial hair he struggled to keep trimmed. Pablo would mix English with Spanish in an attempt to be sexy. He tried too hard. He was determined to get with Mrs. Taylor. He understood that she was ripe for the picking.
Pablo was always around, always available. He called often, always asking about Ladriguez and her well being. He said he didn’t like sports. He didn’t show an urge to watch the Crowns and was proud to tell her that he hated both football and basketball and wouldn’t be watching them during the winter months. Oscar, on the other hand, not only played major league baseball but he also attended games in other sports all across the country-without Sondra.
Pablo showered her with verbal and physical affection. He would do little things she thought of as cute just to be closer to her and touch her. Pablo even sat with her one rainy Saturday and watched a marathon of movies on the Lifetime cable channel, television for women. The same station Sondra would scold Oscar for calling Lifetime “The Bitch Channel”.
Pablo’s touch was sexy and seemed sincere but was nothing like the suave, confident caress of her husband. She couldn’t help but compare. Oscar was the greatest lover her body had ever experienced.
He’d often say. “I can’t believe a woman as wonderful and as beautiful as you are would want to hang around a regular guy like me.’’
He showed he was a good listener, and that was what really endeared him to Sondra. Whether on the phone or in person he would just quietly absorbed her words, rarely offering any kind of encouragement or sentiment. Of course most of the time it was about Oscar, to which he’d just say, “You deserve better.’’
“I just want to be happy,’’ she’d say.
Pablo would reply, “I can make you happy. I may not be able to give you all the things he can, but I can love you better. With all my heart.’’
As they got closer, and spent more time together, Pablo would say things like, “I wish I could show you all the love you truly deserve.’’
He got his chance after six months of light dating, hours of phone conversations and very little time alone. He understood that a woman hurting from a cheating man would need time to recover. Pablo was hoping Sondra wouldn’t be one of those women that would need a year or two or three to get over the damage Oscar had wrought.
It was now May. She had left Portland and Oscar in August. The Crowns were rolling at the start of a new season and Sondra felt no love for her husband while watching him play, or so she told herself. Oscar had been phoning, trying to get a serious conversation going, but Sondra wouldn’t listen. When he came by to see his son, she would make sure she was not there. Avoidance was her form of healing.
Sondra wanted to start anew, fresh, with someone who would respect her. And Pablo had done all he could to be the next man in her life. And it worked. He posed as the calmer, steadier choice.
May 3rd was a clear, brisk Sunday. A day Sondra would never forget. She and Pablo were coming in from Portland where they had seen a concert headlined by the singer Maxwell. The drive home was kind of quiet after Sondra asked to listen to the all-sports radio station. She wanted to hear the Crowns game in Boston during the three-hour drive.
Pablo, driving, said, “I can’t believe you want to hear about them. I thought you didn’t want to be bothered by your husband.’’
“I still have respect for his teammates and their wives. Some of those guys were good to me.’’
“Really?’’ His tone had become bitter.
Sondra looked over at him, his eyebrows showing the aversion. “What do you mean by that?’’ she said.
“Nothing. I just hate them. They’re all souped up. Big shots. I can’t stand the Crowns.’’
That was the first time he had said anything against the Crowns and he and Sondra had sat through World Series games together. She also noticed it to be the first time he had really said anything close to negative. He liked anything and everything she liked. She hadn’t thought it was odd until that moment. But she had been having fun so she allowed her curiosity to be swept aside by thoughts of being made love to.
Their date had been so sweet that evening, like all the others, and Ladriguez was out for the night with one of his aunts. The table was set for Pablo to get some, and Sondra very much felt ready to give herself to the man. She felt he deserved it as much as she needed it. Nine months-since last August. She felt he deserved her body, to be one with her.
When Pablo’s shiny Ford pickup, his work mobile, parked at Sondra’s doorstep he let out a sigh he used to relax himself. He too wanted the night to end in her bed.
Sondra tried to ease the situation. She said, “I understand how you feel about the Crowns. A lot of guys feel that way about them. And usually Oscar is the one men hate the most.’’
“I’m sorry about the way I reacted,’’ his voiced was low, and almost whined. “I guess I’m just a little jealous.’’
“Jealous? You don’t have anything to be jealous about, believe me. They are just men like you. Human.’’
Pablo slowly reached across his truck and put his hand on top of Sondra’s hand. He rubbed her soft knuckles, her skin melting under his caress.
Pablo cleared his throat, “Uh, baby, I don’t want this night to end.’’
Sondra smiled. Her heartstrings were touch. She was ready.
She said, “The night does not have to end,’’ then glanced at her parents’ home. “But...I feel like a teenager. I’m living at home.’’
“We can go to my place,’’ Pablo offered.
Sondra sighed silently and quickly raised and dropped her eyebrows. “We can do that,’’ she said.
The drive across Salem to Silverton was swift. Pablo knocked off half the time of the thirty-minute drive east up Route 213.
The first thing Sondra noticed about the inside of the apartment was that it smelled like it wasn’t lived in. She commented, and Pablo opened a window and said he wasn’t there much, he stayed in hotels a lot to be nearer to his stores.
The furniture was drab. The rug was orange and brown. The place looked like an old couple had lived there since the seventies, when the furniture and rug were stylish.
Pablo sat her on the couch. He was moving anxiously. “I don’t have anything to offer you. You want to run out and get you something to drink?’’ he asked. Sondra shook him off. “Well, I’ll put some music on.’’ He moved to the old fashioned component set and struggled to get the radio on.
She recognized the Will Downing ballad. She relaxed, letting her fingers tap along with the rhythm. It was an R&B oldies station, next was the Dramatics.
“Come give me a dance.’’
He said it so suddenly that the words startled Sondra. She didn’t mind dancing. She rose slowly and let him take her into slow movements. He went into a whispering binge, telling her how much he admired her, desired her and wanted to be loved by her.
Two songs of slow dragging, and he made his move. “I’ve got to make love to this sweet body. Please?’’ he said, his breath hot on her neck and ear.
Sondra smiled and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. He took that as an invite.
He stood tall, looked in her eyes for a sign. He saw, yes, take me. He led her to a bedroom, one of three doors beyond the kitchen.
She wanted him to undress her, caress her body and get her warmed up...like her husband would have. Instead, Pablo asked if he could just watch her undress herself.
“This is a moment I have been praying for for a long time. I want to cherish it.’’
She couldn’t say no to that line.
She also wanted darkness. She felt like she was on stage, just what Pablo seemed to want, though.
When she was naked, Pablo told her to lie down on the bed. She did, first turning down the comforter, blanket and sheet in one full move. She uncoiled her long legs and arms in a sexy stretch. She was truly attractive. Her sly smile and blinks was all the more alluring.
Pablo stood, poised above her like a lion that had chased down a doe to exhaustion. The look in his eyes could have been lust, but he gritted his teeth.
“Lord have mercy,’’ he muttered.
God, he doesn’t like what he sees.
“What’s the matter?’’ Sondra self-consciously asked.
Pablo said nothing, just stared. Then he said, almost panting, “You’re just very beautiful. So sweet. May I...taste you?’’
Sondra smiled and nodded. She parted her legs ever so slightly.
He began at her breasts and slowly worked his way down to her drenched hairs. He ran his tongue over the inner rim of her entrance and her thighs trembled. He was slow. Not masterful, yet good enough to get her worked up. Pablo wasn’t smooth any more once he got in, though. At first she thought it was first time jitters but Pablo went from suave to awkward. His eyes were blazing, never leaving hers. She felt vulnerable and cared for at the same time. It was exciting, like a new piece usually is.
