Chapter 1
Deon "Ace" Farrington
Every morning after I’d showered and slipped on something comfortable before basketball practice, I had the same routine. I’d sit and listen to my girl Farrah speak on her plans for the day. It was usually about potential clients for her accounting firm or current clients that worked her nerves.
I’d nod my head, even responded with an occasional “word” or “yeah” as I sipped on my coffee and scrolled through my cell. I’d hit a few blog sites from ShadeRoom to Page Six just to see what kind of bullshit the world thought was interesting about a celebrity, then check my bank account before I moved on to my emails.
I didn’t give a fuck how rich I was. A motherfucker like me checked my money every morning. I then tackled emails to see if I had any communications related to my business ventures from endorsements to my new liquor line, Ace in the Hole. I understood early on, and even more after my injury last year, that basketball was seasonal. Therefore, I had to prepare for the future.
I wasn’t afraid of poverty though. I couldn’t be when it made me the man I was today, but trust me, I didn’t want to see that bitch ever again. For the most part though, my money was in good hands. Farrah was on top of it, but that didn’t mean I fell asleep at the wheel. That was mistake number one for most athletes, but not one I would ever make on my watch.
After a scroll through of a few blogs didn’t reveal anything of interest, I tapped on my email icon. Nothing jumped out at me, but just before I exited, I saw something that caught my attention. Shit, if I was being honest, I felt the fucking ground shake.
“Damn,” I whispered. “Peakville College two thousand twelve class reunion.”
That was my alma mater, the place where I left the safe confines of my hometown, Portstown, to the campus of one of the most prestigious historically black colleges and universities in the nation. We called it PC or The Peak, the motherfucking home of the Wildcats.
There, I became a man on many levels. It was also there where I met the first woman to capture my heart and control my entire being. Her name was Katrice… Katrice Kellom. I fell at hello, and even though our introduction wasn’t that sappy shit, it was perfect just like my Kat.
The longer I pondered on that email, memories of my past bubbled to the surface. Memories that, on one hand, made my stomach churn from some fucked-up shit that occurred, while on the other, made it flutter like some lovesick ass puppy when I thought of Kat. Luckily for me, Farrah was on another rant as I took a deep breath and leaned back as I reminisced.
“Shit,” she muttered. Her wheat-colored skin tinted as our bodies collided, causing her food tray to tilt before crashing to the floor. Everything from cheese grits, scrambled eggs, bacon, to two blueberry muffins lay at our feet. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking klutz,” she whispered, looking around close to tears.
Bits of splattered grits and eggs graced the prettiest legs I’d ever seen, legs she swatted at while trying to hold that denim skirt that hugged her voluptuous frame. Damn that. I could hold that skirt all day if she’d let me. Immediately, I wanted her number with hopes that we could spend some time together. After I apologized for our collision, of course.
I’d been on campus for a week, which felt like a rat race from registering for classes to standing in long lines in the bookstore for books with a few bites of food in between. It was mostly canned food from home like tuna or Vienna sausages with crackers. A motherfucker was starving, but before I fought with the people at financial aid, I decided to put some hot food on my stomach. I had a few dollars saved up, so a hot meal was a must.
Just before I went to apologize, a sheen of tears covered her orbs that soon spilled over her eyelids and slid down her cheeks—cheeks that lifted as she pushed out a puff of air.
Fuck. I’d made the girl cry. I knew then my chances of getting her name let alone her phone number were slim to none.
She had to have dudes lined up to get at her, because to be honest, she was stunning as I took in her thick ass frame. She was larger than most chicks people probably expected me to fuck with considering I played ball, but she definitely was my cup of tea—the kind I wanted to sip on, and drink from as my eyes took a walk up and down her length.
Acting fast, I quickly grabbed a few napkins. The least I could do was help her clean up, and if I were lucky, I could stand there long enough to watch her dry her pretty, wet face.
“Hey; hey. My apologies about your food. I was rushing already late to financial aid—” I voiced before she picked up her tray and stomped off, leaving me to stand there alone.
“What the fuck?” I quickly followed her as she made her way over to the trash bin.
“Listen, I really am—”
“What the hell, dude? I get it. You’re sorry!” she belted, whipping her head around. Every eye nearby landed on us as we stood there face to face in what looked like a couples’ dispute. Ole girl was giving me a hard time, and she wasn’t even mine… not yet that is.
While I should have cursed her the fuck out for being such a brat when I was only trying to apologize, I couldn’t. She had my ass hook, line, and sinker, especially when her trembling pouty lips joined the party. Still, she was going to have to behave fucking with me.
“That mouth’s always so slick?” I asked. I then took charge as I reached up and dabbed her cheeks. She growled in response as those baby brown eyes grew into tiny slits along with her balled up fists. I didn’t give a fuck if she didn’t like it. I couldn’t have her snotting and sniffling all over the place because of me. Besides, she was too pretty for that.
“What?” I added, bracing myself.
If she slapped me, I’d let her get away with it once, but two times was a no go. I’d have to restrain her and tote her thick ass up out of here. I wanted her even more now, so I was applying pressure just like a nigga with five seconds on the clock and down by three. If you played ball, you knew how that felt. Yeah, that’s how she had me—locked in and committed to making the winning shot.
“Oh, so now you want to fight?” I taunted her.
She lifted her chin in a manner as if she was saying “what’s up”. That was cute, since just a second ago she was crying, and now she wanted to brawl as if she would win. That shit was impossible since I easily stood at six foot seven while she barely reached my chest. I surmised she was five foot three, maybe five foot four—fun size and fine as fuck. A deadly combination.
“Maybe.” She pressed her lips together, pushing out her chest.
“Damn, all because I want to apologize and then treat you to breakfast? Just trying to put a smile on your face.” Accepting her challenge, I then swiped just against her lip where a few grains of grits rested. Instead of a slap of the hand that I expected, she gasped, and her eyes blinked a few times.
I chuckled as those plump lips pursed even more before she kissed her teeth. Oh yeah, she really did want to kick my ass. Cute… but her ass still hadn’t moved. That was a sign I had a shot.
“I’m serious but let me finish what I started.” I then knelt and gently swiped the contents from her calves and ankles.
Since she didn’t move, I continued on my journey as my swipes moved upward toward her smooth, thick, yet firm, thighs. She must have played volleyball or some other sport. Either that or she simply had good genes coupled with good southern style cooking the way her body was set up. By then, her body had stiffened as goosebumps graced the scene. Oh, oh, I knew I had her then.
“You’re good?” I probed, hiking up one brow.
“Yeah.” This time as she spoke, the base in her voice had vacated her body. The words came out all airy-like which I caught as I smiled. I guess I celebrated a little too soon though when she crossed her arms, trying to regroup and stage an attitude of defense.
She could cross them motherfuckers all she wanted because in a second, we were going back to that breakfast bar, and we were about to eat. I had thirty bucks to my name, and I was about to spend it on anything she spilled. I’d fuck up those last cans of tuna for the rest of the week until I came up with a plan to get my money up. I was in a new town, and while hustling was out, I could find a park and shoot some hoops. The locals loved a good game to watch at the park to bet on. I couldn’t hustle as much as I wanted to due to summer classes, but thickums was worth it. I could tell.
“That’s what I like to hear whenever you’re with me.” As I slowly rose, our eyes remained affixed on each other. By the time I was fully standing though, she revealed a perfect set of beautifully white, pristine teeth once she blessed me with a smile—a slam fucking dunk at its best.
I was mesmerized, studying everything from her eyes to that button nose that made me want to tug on it before my eyes latched onto her lips. They were pouty and covered with a liquid lipstick, something my sister Deena taught me from all the shit I used to buy or steal from the store for her—lips that twisted just a little as neither of us backed down. I had no reason to though. Not when the treat before me was her lips eager for me to kiss them, or so I hoped as she lowered her eyes, her cheeks a crimson hue.
Did she blush? Shit, yeah. She was blushing, and the imaginary crowd around me was cheering. I think I won the game.
She was kind of prissy, too, gauging from her salmon-colored earrings and bracelet that matched her well-manicured nails and toes the color of salmon, too. Then, she had the nerve to smell like she was brand new… like a fucking baby. It was some baby powdery scent that I wanted to memorize, store in my mental repository, and smell again any time I thought about her.
Miss Mean Ass had me at her command, and I still didn’t have her name or number as my feet remained planted right in front of her like cement had been poured on top of them. I guess I was standing there too long, but so the fuck what? If she wanted to walk away, nothing was stopping her. That’s how I know she was feeling me as that tinted skin warmed in color even more.
“What now?” she finally asked. I guess that pressure called silence was getting to her. Keeping it real, I was under a spell. My hunger pains had escaped me the second our paths crossed. “You’re weirding me out, and people are starting to really stare.”
Shit, she was worried about people? I looked around, frowning. That right there pissed me off. I couldn’t give a damn who was looking at us as long as she was looking at me.
“And? Fuck them people,” I spat, tossing my hand up in the air.
I had too much other shit to worry about like getting through this summer. My scholarship didn’t kick in until our freshman year when the basketball season started. I came up early to meet a few conditional requirements that came with little to no financial aid. All that time on the court got me in, but that money wouldn’t follow until I passed the summer with a GPA with a minimum of a B.
“You already have them thinking I got you all upset. Too late to be concerned about a motherfucker now. Focus on my ass. I’m the victim.”
Now I was just fucking with her, but she made it too easy not to, especially when she rolled her eyes as I pulled her arms from across her chest.
“Girl, relax. All uptight over nothing. You’re ready?”
“For?” She gawked, rolling her neck around. Yeah, that feisty shit was what I liked… prissy and feisty.
“To eat. Besides, I saw those blueberry muffins you had—a fav of mine. My grams back home makes them for me. Messing around with you committed to being mad and they’ll all be gone.”
“Then go.” She then waved me off with one hand in the air. “I don’t want you to be seen with the fat girl anyway.”
“Fat girl where?” I stood there in shock, wondering if she was serious, but when she lowered her head and shrugged, I knew she was. “Look. Eyes on me.” I told her, pointing my index and middle finger up and waving them in between us. “If they’re not me, it doesn’t matter no fucking way.”
“And who are you supposed to be?”
“Trying to be your friend for starters, so let me. The name’s Deon… Deon Farrington. Yours?”
“Katrice.” When she didn’t offer her last name, I shrugged. By the time we ate and had a full belly, she’d be on my team, which was exactly where I needed her to be.
“Alright, Katrice with no last name, and this time, double up on them blueberry muffins. Those motherfuckers are good if they cook anything like my grams. After you,” I said, motioning for her to walk in front of me.
I also wanted to see those two perfectly round globes called her ass. That denim skirt had been blessed by God to come into such close contact with this masterpiece.
“And no more crying over spilled shit—not when there’s something better ahead of you like fucking with me.”
Within seconds, the woman before him didn't matter. Not when all he could think about was his first love.
Come on back 8/28 for the Basketball Phenomenon and BBW Reporter!
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