Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two: Passion Overtime

Chapter 5

Terrence watched Kyra shoot across the parking lot, a gleam in his eye and a wry smirk on his lips. Had he ever seen a backside so sweet? In his heart, lust, confusion and remorse battled for supremacy. And like a tourist wandering through the streets of Amsterdam, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her luscious body. Was this just about their intense attraction, or something more? Seriously hot, Kyra Dixon had the carefree disposition of an all-American girl and the sexual energy of a pinup model.

Kyra towed the line between sweet and sexy, but there was a very elegant way about her. A down-home beauty with bewitching eyes and a flirty laugh, she embodied all the qualities he admired in a woman—optimism, passion, honesty.

Terrence had been back in Hollington for seventy-two hours, but he felt as if he’d never left. The energy between them was electric and as he headed back up the trail, he reviewed their brief but noteworthy conversation. A woman in love talked with animation. Her face lit up at the mention of her man’s name, and her cheeks flushed with delight. Love literally oozed from every pore. Not only were those telltale signs missing from his conversation with Kyra, her voice had flatlined when he asked if she was in love in Charles.

Terrence was no relationship guru, and he’d never have his own syndicated talk show for the brothers, but he knew complacency when he saw it. Hell, he’d been in that dark, lonely pit before. Since his rookie season, he’d dated one brainless woman after another. Sisters who’d rather spend the day at the beauty shop than volunteer in their communities. They all looked good, and smelled good and filled out their designer dresses better than Kim Kardashian, but they couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation. Beauty and brains were the perfect mix, not booty and beauty, as his teammates used to say. Too bad it had taken him ten years to realize the truth.

Kyra exuded a confident-in-her-own-skin vibe and didn’t have any of the generic traits he was used to seeing in females on the west coast. He liked his women real, natural, fresh-faced, and the curvy PR director certainly fit the bill.

“I can’t believe it, it’s Terrence Franklin!”

Turning around, he matched the sultry voice to an oval face with red pouty lips.

“I’m LaTisha.” The temptress smiled.

Terrence gave her a quick once-over. It was a punishing eighty degrees, but her makeup was flawless. What kind of woman wore fake eyelashes and diamond earrings to the park? Kyra wasn’t even wearing a watch, while this girl looked like she was ready for a semi-nude video shoot. Her fuchsia bra-top overflowed with silicone, and booty hung out of her Daisy Duke shorts. Shoulder-length, honey-blond hair twirled in the wind like strings of nutty putty. Her face was impassive, but her eyes shimmered with mischief.

“You probably don’t remember me, but we met at an L.A. night club the year your team clinched the playoffs.”

His groupie antennae shot up. Only a woman who memorized team schedules and charted the hangouts of professional athletes would remember a five-second meeting in a packed club. Had she followed him to Atlanta? Before entering the league, he wouldn’t have believed it, but groupies were inventive and dedicated to their craft. In Las Vegas, a burlesque dancer once cornered him in the men’s room; at a friend’s birthday party a pair of twins had bum-rushed him in the hot tub; and at his grandmother’s church a few years back, the pastor’s teenage daughter had surprised him with a French kiss in her father’s office. Terrence hated being suspicious of fans, but when females stepped up to him, caution had to be the order of the day.

“I have a flat,” she announced, pointing a finger toward the parking lot, but not singling out a specific car. “Think you can help me out?”

LaTisha appeared to be in her late twenties, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. Her outfit said junior section at Macy’s, but her body language suggested she was mature, conspicuous, experienced. Glad Kyra wasn’t around to witness this blatant display of entrapment, he pulled his keys out of his back pocket. He’d had enough sun for one day and they were starting to attract curious stares from sunseekers passing by. “I wish I could help,” he lied, starting for the marked crosswalk, “but I gotta jet.”

The woman pursued. “It’ll only take a minute and I promise to make it worth your while.” He heard a hint of anxiety in her voice. “You’ll be thanking me later. I can do things with my tongue that will make your head spin.”

Stopping beside his luxury sports car, he yanked open the door and retrieved his cell phone from the center console. Back in the day, he would have fallen for this obvious ruse, but now his eyes were wide open. If he wanted to be with a quality woman, someone with poise and class and substance, he had to start making better choices. “I’ll call a tow truck for you. What’s the make and model of your car?”

A delicate hand touched his forearm. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush, so let me spell this out for you.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Change my flat, and I’ll thank you in the backseat of your car.”

“I have a girlfriend,” he lied, wishing that it were true.

A coy, mysterious look came over her face. “I’m not greedy.” Her smile displayed every tooth. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Still not interested.”

“Not interested?” Her bottom lip curled. “Are you blind? Look at me. I’ve been in Playboy magazine twice and hooked up with Lil Wayne last month. I’m the hottest...”

Terrence slid into his car.

“Hey, what about my tire?” she yelled, bending down and knocking on his window. “You’re not going to leave me stranded, are you?”

To silence her, he depressed the power-window button and said, “Wave down park security. They’ll help you.”

“But I want you,” she cooed, propping her chest up on the window sill. “Come on, Flash, help me out.”

A man in tattered sweats stopped at a rusted blue car. He was wide and chubby and his stomach lapped over his Chicago Bulls basketball team T-shirt. The guy didn’t look strong enough to bench five pounds, but Terrence wasn’t looking for a workout partner. He needed to get this girl off his back before she caused a scene. “Hey, you!”

The guy looked up, and recognition flashed in his eyes. “You’re Terrence Franklin! Holy crap. Dude, I’m like your biggest fan ever!”

“Do me a favor,” he began, motioning to LaTisha with his index finger, “change her flat. She’ll show you where her car is parked.” Terrence didn’t wait for an answer. Starting the engine, he whipped the Ferrari into reverse and tore out of the parking lot.

* * *

Terrence stopped at the intersection of Twelfth and Piedmont. What a trip. Didn’t these women ever quit? If they weren’t pushing up on him in the mall, they were leaving lewd messages on his MySpace website page or waving him down at the gas station. In retrospect, LaTisha had been tame compared to the other groupies he’d encountered over the years. At least she hadn’t flashed him or hopped into his car and refused to get out.

Picking his cell phone off the passenger seat, he glanced down at the screen, hoping he’d received a text message from his favorite intern. There wasn’t one, but he smiled to himself anyways. A believer in fate, not luck, he knew his chance meeting with Nikki Wakefield two weeks ago at the Dallas Airport wasn’t just another coincidence.

“You’re my boyfriend’s favorite running back!” she’d said after he scrawled his signature on her boarding pass. “He’s going to be stoked when he sees this.”

When Terrence saw the familiar logo plastered across her white backpack, he broke into a smile. “You go to Hollington College?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior.”

“Do you know who Kyra Dixon is?” he asked, nervous energy flowing through him. “She works in the public relations department.”

Nikki blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “Of course, I know who she is. Kyra’s been my faculty adviser for years.”

“What did you say your name was again?” They’d boarded that noon flight to Atlanta and by the time the plane touched down, he knew how Kyra took her coffee, where she liked to shop and what her favorite radio station was.

He’d been at home, reviewing an endorsement contract, when he’d received Nikki’s text message. It hadn’t been easy getting to Centennial Park during rush hour, but he wanted to see Kyra and he’d decided a long time ago to give their friendship his all. Ten more minutes on the I-95 and he would have missed her, but as fate would have it, they’d run into each other out on the trail.

As he thought back over their talk, he wondered if he was going about this thing with Kyra all wrong. He had tender memories of their relationship, but every time he referred to the past, she’d quickly change the subject. Calling off their engagement had been a mistake and he hated himself for hurting her. Instead of being honest about his fears for the future, he’d withdrawn. He’d ignored her calls and laid low in the weeks leading up to graduation, but he didn’t know how else to cope with his growing list of problems. Breaking up with Kyra via email was a cold, classless thing to do and even now, a decade later, Terrence was still ashamed about what he’d done. Regardless of what Kyra said, what he’d done wasn’t cool. The indiscretions of his youth were a sore spot for him, and he’d always planned to make it up to her. They had to create new memories together, and what better way than over dinner tonight?

Following the flow of traffic, he remembered the touch of sadness behind her smile. Did Kyra truly believe he’d forgotten all about her? He had often thought about contacting her, but didn’t know what he’d say if she answered his call. It had been years since his last serious relationship and every time he thought about his future, Kyra came to mind. It was more than just her smile or her sexy walk. Deeply compassionate, she had a sense of community about her and lived to help others. Not like his ex-girlfriend, Lourdes Spendoza. She’d had no trouble blowing his money, but the minute he got hurt, she’d packed her designer bags and hit the road.

Should he call her now or wait until he got back home? What if she had plans with her...Terrence couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. He was the right man for Kyra—the only man for Kyra—and he was going to prove it.

His cell phone chirped, and he knew instantly the message was from Nikki. The light turned red, and he stepped on the brake. The scent of fresh bread carried on the breeze and through the driver side window. His stomach grumbled, but he was too busy reading Nikki’s message to think about tea and crumpets. Turning down the music, he sat back in his seat and read the message out loud.

On Friday nights Kyra and her friends go to The Tavern to play trivia. Starts at 8 p.m. Don’t wear jerseys or boots when you’re out with her. Kyra hates the thug look, so dress real casual.

Terrence scratched his head. He didn’t know squat about trivia, but his cousins, Neal and Damon, had been honor roll students back in university. If anyone could win at trivia, it was those two. Copping a cool, self-assured grin, he threw his sports car into drive and dialed Neal’s home number.

Chapter 6

“Please tell me those guys aren’t the Hollington Lions,” Terrence said. Head cocked to the right, he gestured toward the football field with his index finger. Sunlight reflected off his sunglasses, and although Kyra couldn’t see his eyes, she heard the disappointment in his voice. “You said they were a hard-working bunch with a desire to succeed.”

“They are,” she insisted. “They’re still not in the best shape yet, but they’ll be ready in time for the homecoming game.”

Coach Mayo appeared. “All right boys, gather around.”

No one moved.

Undeterred by their lack of enthusiasm, the interim coach spoke about the importance of team work and perseverance. “This is a new day, boys. A new season. We’re going to go out fightin’, you hear me? Compete on every snap, on every play, on every down. Now, let’s warm up and give a good showing this morning!”

Feet dragged across the field. The players formed a crooked circle around Coach Mayo and stretched to the count of ten. After, he instructed them to run five laps around the football field.

Worried about the impression Terrence was forming of the team, Kyra searched for the right explanation to give about the players. “They’re really great kids,” she began. “The quarterback, Javarius Nelson, is the first person in his family to go to college, and three of the defensive linemen are here on full scholarships.”

“Now I know why they were 6-7 last season.” Terrence plunked down on the wooden bench. “What the hell am I getting myself into?”

“They just need some direction, some discipline, a strong, firm hand.” Taking the seat beside him, she held the team files on her lap, prepared to refer to them if he had any questions about specific players. “They’ve had some injuries in the past and as a result, had a rough few years. Their confidence is shot. Terrence, you know what a losing streak can do to a player’s mental game. You also know that the right coach can make all the difference.” He didn’t respond, so she ploughed ahead. “Only you understand what kind of pressure these kids are under. We’re all convinced you can help turn this around.”

His expression troubled her, but she knew under his guidance, the Hollington Lions could be a championship-contending team again. Gifted with natural talent and an unparalleled love for the game, he had the skill and know-how to make it happen. “Terrence, you were a high school All-American, and you had the highest finish ever in Heisman balloting. Everyone here respects your leadership skills both on and off the field. That says a lot about your ability.”

Someone cursed, words were exchanged and pushing ensued between players. The coaching staff rushed over to break up the scuffle.

“This is painful to watch,” he confessed, hanging his head and rubbing a hand over his face. “They’re turning against each other instead of working together. Not an easy thing for a losing team to get over.”

“You can do this. I know you can.” Her voice was strong, firm, unwavering. “You rushed for two hundred and fifty yards in your first NFL game and scored three touchdowns against the crushing defense. This—” she pointed at the field “—will be a walk in the park for someone with your tenacity and fortitude. If you could go toe-to-toe with a big bully like Joe Bilkie, then you can do anything.”

“You saw that game?” he questioned, shooting a look at her. When she nodded, a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Mom said I shouldn’t have punched him. She said I should have been the bigger man and walked away. What do you think?”

“I think you should have socked him in the gut!”

Terrence had a good laugh. “I knew you’d say that. It didn’t matter what I did out there on the field, you always had my back!”

A pair of beauties in pink shorts jogged by. Dressed simply in a chartreuse blouse and capri pants, Kyra wondered how she stacked up to all of the other women he’d dated over the years. Various images from tabloids and entertainment magazines crowded her mind. He liked them young, stacked and curvy. Kyra watched the cheerleaders making eyes at him, but when she looked at him, he was staring at her. “You attract attention wherever you go.”

“Too bad it’s never the right type of girl.”

“You expect me to believe you’re not flattered when a sweet, young thing sashays over to you and slips you her number?” He opened his mouth to protest, but she pushed on. “Terrence, you’re not fooling anybody. I’ve heard the stories. I know what’s up.”

“Kyra, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Spotlight Tinseltown is not a valid news source. Everything you see on TV isn’t true.”

The air felt light on her face, but her heart raced. It had been ten years since they dated, a full decade since they’d made promises and vows to each other, but she was as skittish as she’d been on their first date.

“Keep this up and I’m going to cancel your subscription to Celeb Today magazine,” he warned. His unfailing good humor calmed her, but when he casually put an arm around her shoulders in a split-second embrace, she broke out into a sweat. “I’m not as bad as the media makes me out to be. My mom raised me to be a gentleman, and all those afternoons I spent with her talking about respecting black women weren’t in vain.”

The emotions his smile evoked squeezed her heart. Held on tight and wouldn’t let go. Everything about Terrence Franklin aroused her. His voice soothed, his smile compelled and he pulsed with a sexual energy. But he was a player. A dog. A womanizer of the worst kind and she had the emotional scars to prove it.

“I’m glad we made it out here today.”

Their eyes met and held. Sparks flew like invisible streaks of lightning. And as if programmed, her face warmed, her legs tingled and butterflies danced in her stomach.

“Being here takes me back. Makes me feel like I never left Hollington.”

But you did. And you left me. Shaking off feelings of melancholy, she admired the blue, cloudless sky. Her mind slipped back to the summer of 1998. Terrence had surprised her at this very spot. Right there in the middle of the field. He’d spread out a blanket, then made love to her under a breath-taking full moon.

Kyra pressed her eyes shut. That night—that sweet, enchanted night—was ingrained in her heart forever. It had been a tender moment, and despite all of her attempts, she’d never been able to forget it. Kyra hoped Terrence didn’t remember that warm summer evening. Hoped he didn’t mention it or reminisce about how willingly she’d given herself to him...

“Man, I’d die to be out there one more time, playing to the crowd, spinning out of tackles, showing the whole world what I can do.”

Terrence gazed out onto the field and Kyra stared at him. It was unbearably humid, and as hot as the desert, but he was wearing a black V-neck shirt and tan pants. The former NFL running back had powerful shoulders and a Herculean build, but it was his smile that seduced her every time.

“I used to dread training camp,” he said, with an easy laugh. “The days begin well before sunrise and we endure the most grueling practice sessions imaginable, but I’d gladly run a hundred laps if it meant I could play just one more pro game.”

“It must be hard knowing you’ll never play again.”

“Hurts like a bitch.”

“Don’t worry, your female fans aren’t going anywhere,” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m sure they’ll give you a hero’s welcome at the opening game.”

“Is that what you think I miss about playing in the NFL? The women?” Disappointment colored his face. “Most people don’t know this, but the Dallas Cowboys organization is very involved in the community. We clean up drug-infested neighborhoods, read to preschool children and paint over gang tags and graffiti. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but there’s no greater feeling than signing a kid’s T-shirt or visiting cancer patients at the children’s hospital. Making a difference in someone’s life trumps meeting the winner of some model reality show any day.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I—”

“And while we’re on the topic of females, let me just say this. It’s not as easy for me to meet women as you think.”

“It’s an open secret that pro athletes bed women by the hundreds, Terrence. Everyone knows they’re dogs.” Determined to prove her point, she said, “They jump from one groupie to the next making babies they refuse to support.”

“No one with a lick of sense would date an ODB.”

“A what?”

“A woman who only does ballers. Every league has them.” His tone was persuasive, matter-of-fact. “The major leagues have bat girls and soccer has bedposts.”

“Are you serious? That’s crazy,” she said, “and slightly disturbing.”

“I have to work plenty hard to meet sisters. Independent, career-types like you automatically think the worst of me, so I have to work twice as hard to prove that I’m a stand-up guy.” He winked. “Because I am, you know. Ask Mom. She’ll tell you!”

His good-natured smile almost made her forget he’d once dogged her out. She was sure that her opinion didn’t matter anymore to him, didn’t hold any weight, but she couldn’t resist asking him about the now infamous Spago Smackdown. “Is it true you were dating two actresses on the same network at the same time and got busted leaving Spago with one of them?” she asked, giving in to her curiosity. “Why did they start tearing each other’s clothes? And was Jerry Springer really there egging them on?”

Terrence snorted. “That’s pure fiction.”

Amused, she listened as he defended his reputation. It sounded as if he had years of frustration to get off his chest. Kyra heard the irritation in his voice and the underlying sadness he couldn’t conceal. He had several million-dollar homes, luxury cars and all the other trappings of success, but expected her to believe he wasn’t happy. Please. Did she have sucker written across her head in pink neon marker. That baby-life-is-hard speech might work with other women, but not with her.

“Being a professional athlete isn’t easy. You wouldn’t believe all the crap I go through just because I’ve got a little money.”