Fly on the Wall (26 page)

“It's my girl's phone. I can't.”

She stared at me a while, no doubt regretting sucking my dick. “You are so fuckin' wrong for this,” she murmured and then walked away.

Paige giggled as she locked the door and slowly strutted back to her desk. “So, what happened between you two last week?” she asked.

“Huh?” I almost cracked. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like I always have to save you from her. How did you deal with her while I was out?” She sat on her desk.

“I wasn't dealing with her.” I breathed a sigh of reprieve. “And for the record,” I smiled, “I can handle myself.”

Still atop her desk, Paige let her hair loose, and as she crossed her legs, I watched her dress crawl up her thighs. “Did you give the substitute a hard time?”

“No.” I was already stiffening. “But I'm ready to give you one.”

During her week of mourning, though I spent each night with her, I never touched her sexually. I figured it would not only be tacky of me to expect sex from her during such a difficult time, but it would also show a lack of respect for her friendship with Toni. However, I wanted it. Each night I was physically ready, willing, and able. So, this sitting on her desk and flirting business, I was going to milk.

“What is it that you're ready to give me?”

I walked toward her. “A hard time,” I said and continued, “a very, very hard time.”

“How hard?”

“It's rock candy, baby.” I slid my hands up her thighs.

“What time do you have to meet the coach?” she asked.

“At three-thirty.”

“Where?”

I couldn't have cared less about the coach then. “He's meeting me at my house.”

“That means we don't have much time,” she whispered and pulled her dress up, revealing her light blue underwear. “It's already two thirty-six.”

“I have fifty-four minutes,” without looking at the clock I finished, “but I can give you ten of them.”

“Ten?” Her tone was seductive. “What can you give me in ten minutes?”

“The question is what
can't
I give you in ten minutes?”

Her eyes shuddered then closed as my fingers snuck into her panties and rubbed against her silky moist spot. She reached down, unbuckled my belt, and gravity sent my pants toward the ground. Through the peephole in my boxers, she massaged me. I was standing there with veins protruding and throbbing like one more stroke would send me into convulsions. I pulled away from her grasp because I wanted dinner. I couldn't fill myself up on appetizers. Just as she had in my fantasies, she jumped down from the desk and leaned over it, letting me hit that sweet spot from the back.

I bit into my bottom lip. “Damn.” I could still hear lockers slamming, kids shouting, feet running, beating on the wall, and air brakes of school buses in a distance. The combination of people being just a few feet away sent me to another level. Not that I have experienced all of these, but I had to believe that this feeling was better than smoking, drinking, shooting up, or snorting anything. I was high on pussy, and though I promised her ten minutes, I was only good for about four; the mood was too powerful.

Suddenly, a voice from the main office streamed into the classroom through the intercom. “Ms. Patrick, are you still in your classroom?”

“Shit,” she whispered and froze up for a second until I jabbed her back into what we were doing. “Oh, yes,” she said to me and then answered them. “Yes, yes, I'm here.”

“Do you remember if Joshua Bates was in your homeroom today?”

“Um.” She reached over to the other side of the desk to get her attendance book and I took advantage of the extra depth. “Oh God,” she said and looked back at me to suggest that I would get us caught if I continued to give it to her so damn good. And I didn't stop. As she tried to reach the book again, I tried reaching her rib cage. “Oh Lord,” she exclaimed.

The office personnel interrupted. “I'm sorry, did you say something?”

“No,” Paige lied. “Just, just give me a minute. I'm checking the book.”

“Oh, okay.”

Checking the book? Paige backed that thang all up on me like it was nobody's business, and it really wasn't. She grinded, shook, and squeezed me within her juicy walls, all while the office lady waited on a response. It was almost like being watched. Unable to utter a sound, our facial expressions said it all. We experienced the highest height of ecstasy we ever had. I gathered the bottom of my shirt and stuck it into my mouth to contain myself vocally as I prematurely freed my passion into her.

“Ms. Patrick, are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, one second. Things are kind of crazy. This is my first day back,” she panted as I pulled out of her.

“Yes, I know,” the voice said. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I'm feeling all right.” She looked back at me. “A lot better than I ever expected.”

“Good for you,” the voice said happily. “Just take things one day at a time and things will continue to get better.”

“Thank you.” Paige quickly grabbed the book and flipped through the pages. “Okay, here we go, yes, Josh was in class this morning.”

“Okay, thank you so much,” the lady said. “Keep your head up.”

“I will,” Paige answered, and we watched the green light, indicating an open communication, disappear. She walked over to where I had collapsed on the floor and knelt to kiss me. “I've been missing that,” she whispered.

I pulled her closer. “I've missed that too.”

“Get up.” She looked at the clock. “You have to go.”

I had already forgotten the meeting. “Damn.” I jumped up, fixed my clothes, and grabbed my bookbag. “Thanks.”

“No.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I'll call you later.” I hated to leave, but I couldn't stay a moment longer. The coach was coming all the way from Kentucky just to talk to me.

“Damn, I love you,” I said right before opening the door to leave.

“Well, damn, I love you too.” She smiled. “Bye.”

 

 

Though my decision was to play professional ball, it was still unknown to many. Had I chosen college, it wouldn't have been Southern Kentucky State; however, I didn't want to be rude when Coach Stiller called and requested to meet with me while he was in Miami. Rumor had it that I was his only reason for being in Miami.

Coach Ronald Stiller, the tall, thin man I had seen on ESPN countless times, walked into my house with two things that never left his grasp, a smile and a hunter green and pale yellow SKSU duffel bag. My mom always thought that he was one of the sexiest white men alive. For two hours, she cleaned our house in preparation of his presence. Weeks prior, she insisted that I not meet with him alone. She made him schedule the meeting time around her work schedule, and even wore a new hip-hugging outfit that I had never seen.

Coach Stiller made some sweet promises, and I smiled all the way through the two-long-hour talk and homemade meal, but I wasn't swayed. Though he was interested in me as a player, I noticed his interest in my mother as a woman, and I didn't like that one bit. He complimented her clothing, hair, and even her “athletic” physique.

When he was about to leave, he gave her his cellular phone number, stating, “If there is anything that I haven't covered, please call me.” He was supposed to give me that number, not her. He stared her down like he had already caught the now very contagious jungle fever. When he remembered that I was standing right next to her, he looked over at me.

“Well, I sure hope that I've convinced you to consider Southern Kentucky,” he said while opening the driver's side door of his rental car.

“Definitely,” I lied. “You've given me something to think about.”

“I hope so.” He went on, “I truly hope so because we—”

“Mom, telephone. It's the hospital,” Kevin yelled out the window.

“Oh.” She sighed. “Mr. Stiller, please excuse me. I have to take that.”

“Not a problem, Ms. Lakewood. It's been a pleasure meeting you. Please call me . . .” Then he added, “If you have any questions or concerns about the school.”

“I will,” she said and returned to the house. He smiled and watched her ass until it disappeared behind the door.

“I bought this for you.” He handed over the SKSU bag. “I didn't want to give it to you in front of your mother. I didn't want her to think that we were trying to bribe you with SKSU gym shorts, T-shirts, and other shit.” He laughed and handed over the bag.

“Thanks.” I accepted it. “As soon as I review all of the information, I'll be in contact with you.”

“Alrighty.” He lowered himself into the car. “I can't wait to see you in green and yellow, son.”

“Okay.” I offered him a bogus smile. Green and yellow? Hell no.

He reversed out of the yard, tooted the horn, and disappeared down the road, probably on his way to the airport to board a plane to give the same “we want you” speech to the next guy the following day.

I slung the bag over my shoulder, and once in the house, threw it into Kevin's room like I had done with all the other ones from the other schools. Kevin would soon find something to do with its contents. At the rate he was growing, soon he'd be able to wear the stuff.

“Mmm.” Mom walked into my room. “That Coach Stiller is something else.”

“I can't believe how you two were acting,” I said.

“What do you mean?” She blushed.

“Oh, please.” I was grossed out. “All the flirting, the compliments, and the phone number exchange? That was nasty.”

“How is that nasty when you can do only God knows what with whomever this girl is you're seeing?”

“Yeah, but I'm not trying to get my freak on in front of you, though. Y'all were just straight gross.” I jokingly showed her the door to exit my room. “Out of my room, freak.”

“You sure you don't want to go to college?” she joked.

“Nope.” I sat on my bed and looked over at her. “I'm NBA bound, baby.”

“All jokes aside.” She got serious. “I'm your mother, so it's my duty to ask you questions like that.” She walked closer to the bed. “If you change your mind about the NBA, I'll still support you. I will support whatever decision you make.”

“I know, Ma.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

“All right.” She smiled and continued. “Now, how would you feel about Coach Stiller being your stepfather?”

I jumped off of the bed and she ran away. I chased her all the way to her room and tickled her until she screamed uncle and apologized for the borderline vulgar statement. She laughed, kicked and screamed, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I managed to rip a huge hole in my pants. The frustrating part of it all was trying to find a clean pair. Everything needed to be washed.

“Damn yellow and green bullshit,” I said as I walked into Kevin's room. “Where is that bag I just put in here, squirt?”

“What bag?” Kevin's eyes never left his video game.

“The Southern Kentucky yellow and green bag,” I said.

“Under the bed.”

He still wasn't really paying me any attention. “Can you get it?” I asked when I realized that he expected me to find it.

“Dawg, man, I just started on a new level.” He pressed pause and fished underneath his bed until he surfaced with the bag. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Once in my room, I closed and locked my door, fearing my mother's retaliation. I searched the bag and found a new pair of shorts, but continued to go through it. There were shirts, sweat pants, gym shorts, flags for cars, hats, whistles, even a face painting kit, but all the way at the bottom of the bag was a white envelope. I grabbed it and expected to find SKSU information. However, the green in the envelope was a different shade than the green in the school colors. The envelope was full of money.

I counted it over four times before I believed that it was real. One hundred one hundred dollar bills. Ten thousand dollars along with a note that read:
We'll take care of you
. I stayed in my room for over an hour trying to find a hiding place for it. Finally, I decided to stuff it into the smelliest shoe I owned, the ones I called my “lucky ladies.” I couldn't fit into them anymore, but they were on the sideline at every game. Mom hated them because they smelled. She wouldn't touch them because they smelled, but she wouldn't throw them out because she knew that they smelled like winners to me.

After the money was secure, I dialed Paige's number. Why? Because she never once complained when my needy ass asked for lunch, gas, or spending money. She had always given to me unselfishly, so I couldn't wait to do something, anything, and everything I could for her.

“Hello?” Paige answered.

“What's up?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about your detention.” She smiled into the phone.

Yeah, it was still on my mind too. “I know that it's just Monday, but what do you have planned for the weekend?”

“Not much.” She then asked cautiously, “Why?”

I was anxious. “Pack your bags. We're going to Key West on Friday after school.”

“What?” she asked. “Theo, that sounds great. I would love to take a vacation, but right now, that's not within my budget.”

“Fuck your budget,” I interrupted with a smile. “
I'm
taking
you
to Key West.”

“How?” She laughed.

“Just make sure you pack. I'll explain everything tomorrow.”