Chapter Twenty-One
Takira
“What’s up, Tee?” my brother asks, sounding like half his attention is on our conversation and half elsewhere.
“You got a sec?”
“Anything for my little sis,” he says, still sounding absentminded.
“What did I interrupt?” I find myself smiling in spite of his distractedness.
“I was drawing up some plays.”
“It’s summer. The season won’t start ’til the fall. You’ve got some time.”
“True, but I can’t stop thinking about what we might do next year. We got a great group of guys.” He sighs. “Anyway, lemme stop. My baby sister is on the line. Big-time stylist to the stars.”
There’s no mockery in his voice, only pride, and the tightness in my chest eases. He’s been through a lot; he’s put us through a lot, but when it comes down to it, he’s still my big brother who I loved more than just about anything growing up, even when he was a jerk. In spite of it all, he’s still my Trini twin.
“I don’t want to hold you.” I clear my throat.“So I’ll get right to it. I’m seeing someone.”
“Ahhh,” he says, teasing, knowing. “Boy or girl?”
I release a shallow, nervous laugh. “Boy.”
“Well, tell me about him. He must be special. You never bother telling me about the jerks you meet on Tinder and shit.”
“You, uh, you know him, actually.”
“For real? Know him like a celebrity out there in Hollywood, or know him—”
“Personally. You knew him back in the day.” Impatience with my own stalling rushes the words out of me. “It’s Nazareth, uh…Naz Armstrong.”
My words reverberate in the silence that follows them.
“What the fuck, Tee?” he explodes. “You shitting me?”
I flinch. Even braced for his disapproval, I’m still shaken by his anger. “No, I ran into him in LA and—”
“And out of all the guys you could’ve fucked, it had to be him? The one who took my place? Ruined everything for me? Is that it? Wanted you a baller?” He expels a harsh breath. “My own sister. Chasing clout and giving up ass for—”
“Fuck you, Cliff,” I say, my voice low and lethal in a way I reserve for him when he’s showing his ass. “I love you, and it’s been hard to watch what’s happened to you since that game, but you made those choices. It wasn’t Naz’s fault. None of it. You hit that coach. You started using. Accept responsibility for it.”
“You have no idea how it feels to have everyone turn on you.” His voice hardens, sounding so brittle I’m afraid it will break. “To have all you did your whole life count for nothing because of one bad call.”
I’m not sure if he means that ref’s bad call, or his bad decision-making in the wake of it, but I let him go on.
“And you don’t know how it burns,” he says, the words seething from hundreds of miles away, “to see someone you know is less talented get it all. Get the scholarship that was meant for you. Get drafted instead of you. Win a ring instead of you. It’s like he’s living my life, Tee.”
“I understand but—”
“He got it all,” he plows over my protest. “And now you tell me he even got my sister?”
“Our relationship isn’t about you, Cliff,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, reasonable, even though panic and frustration and anger and fear whir inside me like a typhoon.
“Of course it’s not about me. It’s about him. My whole life seems to always come back to him. Scrub ass, taking everything meant for me.”
“Look, I’m coming home next week. We can talk about it more when I get there.”