Hot Boyz (6 page)

Mason found his son, now seemingly putting on muscle and a little height, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for something to munch on. Rashaad, at fourteen, was obviously going through puberty but handling it well. He was good-looking, with his pecan skin and low fade, and he now wore contacts in place of his glasses. “Hey, Rashaad, what’s up with you, son?”

“Nothing much,” he replied, opening a box of vanilla wafers and reaching his hand inside. “I wanted to go over to the Fox Hills mall and look around but Mom said I have to keep an eye on Grandma.”

“Yes, you do. And what if you did go? What would you be looking around for?” Mason poured himself a glass of pineapple juice.

“Just looking.” Rashaad popped two cookies into his mouth.

Mason took a long gulp and then asked another question. “What do you need?”

Rashaad chewed as he spoke. “It’s not about needing anything in particular.”

“Oh, Rashaad, please. Now remember, I used to be a teenager, too. I remember when that dang mall was built. My boys and I
used to go to the mall without a penny in our pockets just to walk around and check out the girls. Don’t tell me times have changed that much.”

“No, Dad. I guess they haven’t.”

“See, back in middle school, well, we called it junior high school back then, the thing to do was go to the movie theatre and find a group of girls you like, and then you sit right behind them and get your rap on.”

“Get your rap on?” After taking a handful, Rashaad replaced the box in the cupboard and stood near the sink.

“Well, you know what I mean. By the time your mom and dad would pick you up from the theatre, you’d have a number or two and wouldn’t have watched a lick of the movie at all. Those were the days,” Mason reminisced, finishing the other half of the juice and placing the glass in the sink.

“I’ll bet that was a lot of fun. Checking out some girl in the dark,” Rashaad said with sarcasm. “What would happen if she stood up and she’d be three inches taller than you?”

Mason put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Good question. That would happen at times. Chances are she’d be just as mad that you were shorter anyway so no harm, no foul.”

Rashaad went into detail with his comparison. “See, at the mall, it’s cool because you can see who’s walking around and check them out in the bright light, in shopping mode, eating, chilling, and strolling. These are the days, Dad.”

“I guess these are. But, just not today for you, son.” Mason looked at his watch.

“Where are you about to go?” Rashaad put two in his mouth again.

“I’ve got to get over to the Radisson for a business meeting at eleven and then I have to go to the country club to get in some serious practice this afternoon. I’ll be back later, in time for dinner, though.”

Still chewing Rashaad asked, “When is Mom coming back?”

“Didn’t they just go to church? They won’t be long.”

“Man, Dad”

Mason headed for the kitchen door and then paused. “Man,
Dad, what, Rashaad? You have a problem sharing the weight around here?”

“No, Dad. It’s just that the weekend is the only time I have to hang out.”

“And the weekend is when we need to chip in the most. Anna is only here to help out with housework, cooking, and watching your grandma during the week. So I suggest you make plans for late afternoons or early evenings or for when your mom is home.”

“Okay.” Rashaad looked bored with being read. “How long are you going to be around town, Dad?”

Mason walked into the living room as Rashaad followed. “I’ve been asked that question about three times today. I’m not sure. I might be leaving by the end of the week. I’m just trying to earn a living in a world that the white man has claimed as his. I’ve got to stay on top of my game and on top of my schedule, unlike most in this business. I can’t slip up, son. I’ve told you that before.”

“Dang, Dad, lighten up. It’s cool. I just asked.” Rashaad thought for a second. “How about if I go with you?”

“Rashaad, who’s going to stay here with your grandma? And this is a business meeting, son. You’d be bored to death.”

“Not more boring than sitting around here.”

“Son, your mom will be back soon and you tell her I said you can go on over to the mall then. Here. Try to distract yourself from the scenery long enough to buy yourself something.” Mason pulled out his money clip and extended his hand to offer two, crisp, one hundred dollar bills.

Rashaad’s eyes bugged as he wiped the cookie crumbs from his hand onto his pants leg and took the money. His tone was controlled. “Thanks a lot, Dad.” Rashaad walked back in the direction of his room.

Mason sorted through some mail and then went into the garage to grab his golf clubs. He tossed them in the back of the SUV.

As he backed out of the driveway, his elderly neighbor waved and spoke. “Hello, Mr. Wilson. How are you doing?” Her husband passed away the year before and Mason rarely saw her. Seems she was always indoors.

“Just fine, it’s good to see you,” Mason replied.

She picked up her paper from her lawn and continued to converse, raising her cracking, ripened voice. “Got any tournaments coming up soon? You’re not leaving town again, are you?”

That’s four
, he said under his breath. “There should be one coming up soon. You take care now.”

“You too, Mr. Wilson. Have a blessed day.” She mumbled aloud after he pulled off. “I don’t know how they stay in that house what with what happened to that poor girl a couple of years ago. Man could live anywhere he wants to. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

After eighteen holes of golf, Mason returned home later that afternoon.

“Hey, baby. Is Rashaad back yet?” Mason asked Mercedes as he came though the door leading from the garage to the house. He kissed his wife on her right cheek as she chopped onions on the cutting board. “What are you sniffling for?”

“These are the strongest onions I’ve ever seen.” Mercedes squeezed her eyelids together. “Yes, I just picked Rashaad up about an hour ago.”

“Good. Did he have a good time?” Mason stood behind her with his arms around her waist.

“It seemed as though he did,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You know how quiet teenagers are as soon as you try to ask them something.”

“What are you cooking that smells so good?” he asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“I made this Parmesan chicken coated in egg, baby. It’s a new recipe. I think it turned out pretty good.”

“And scallops?” His eyes bugged.

“And scallops. I’m just chopping up these puppies so I can throw in a few.”

“Now you’re talking. I’m going to go check on Mom.” He backed away. “Did Claude and Torino call?”

“Torino did, and he’s bringing Colette.”

“Uh oh, he’s starting to bring her to dinner. Sounds serious to me.”

Mercedes grabbed the dish towel to wipe her hands. “I know, I thought the same thing. That’s a trip for him to do that, huh?” She turned to face Mason.

“It’s about time, though. As long as she’s been putting up with him.”

“Baby, I think he’s been the one doing the putting up with. Colette’s been acting weird lately. She’s very insecure if you ask me.”

“Your own friend, and you can’t talk to her about it?”

Mercedes stepped to the stove to turn over the chicken fillet. She removed a couple from the skillet and placed them on a paper towel. “I don’t know her that well. But I think she’s not beyond following him after he leaves the club and stuff.”

“Uh oh, sounds like a stalker move to me. But I doubt it. I’ll be right back,” Mason said, sneaking to grab one of the strips on his way out. “Oww, damn that’s hot,” he said, sucking his thumb and tossing the piece back and forth.

“Here greedy, take this.” Mercedes handed him a paper towel. “Always putting your hands on something that might burn you.”

“Yeah, but it sho’ tastes good.”

Mason finished the chicken and walked into his mother’s room, wiping his fingertips and his lips. “Hey, Mom. How’s it going cutie pie?” He leaned over to kiss her on her forehead.

Mattie was sitting on the edge of her bed, rummaging through her purse. “It’s about time you came by here to check on me. When did you decide it was okay to disappear and stay away so long?”

Mason sat next to her. “Mom, you know I’ve been working.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been up to no good. Are you seeing someone else?”

“Mom, what are you talking about? Seeing whom?” Mason scooted closer to her.

“Don’t sit so close. You think I don’t know about that woman you’ve been talking to. I know how you men are.”

Mason stood up and smirked. “Mom, I’m not sure who you’re referring to but we’re about to eat dinner soon. Now go get washed up and come on out into the kitchen. All right?”

“I’ll be out when I get good and ready. Just like you don’t do what I want you to do. You can’t make me do anything just because you come in here telling me to jump.” Mattie pulled out an old tube of ruby red lipstick and started applying it to her cheeks, glancing into the mirror next to her bed.

“Mom, I’ll see you at the dinner table. That looks nice, Mom.”

“Good-bye. I’ll see you again in a month or so the way you come and go.” She replaced the top of the tube without screwing the stick back in.

Mason stepped toward the door. “Okay, Mom. See you in a second. I love you.”

“That’s not anything special. You love everybody.”

Mason walked down the hallway and reentered the kitchen just as Mercedes finished setting the table. “Baby, Mom sounds kind of irritated.”

“She’s not coming out?”

“Not without a fight it sounds like.”

“Go tell Star. She’s in the front room. Star can get her to do anything.” Mercedes took a tall pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator.

“Hey Star, how was church this morning?” Mason asked, walking into the living room taking a seat in his pale green reclining chair until dinner was served. He stared at the television, catching a glimpse of the Lakers game for a second.

“It was good,” Star replied. She stopped reading her magazine. “Dad, you gave Rashaad some money today?”

Mason looked at Star as if surprised. “Yes, I did. And?”

“Nothing.” She kept turning the pages.

“What? What do you need money for?” he asked, scooting to the edge of the chair to catch a connection with her eyes.

Star did not look up. “I know you’re not paying him for watching Grammy. I don’t get paid for that.”

“Do you think you should?”

“No, and he shouldn’t either. We should do it because we want to. Not because we have to.”

“Okay then, let’s say I gave him the money not for watching his grandma, but for just being my son and because I wanted to show him he deserved something nice.”

“Oh yeah, right.”

“Can’t I do the same for my daughter?”

“No thanks.”

“What’s with the long chin? Look at me.”

Star raised her sights but kept her head in place. “I’m fine. It just amazes me that Rashaad buys that. I mean that you just give him money because he deserves something nice. You give him money because you feel guilty about not spending enough time with him.”

“Where did that come from?”

Star sat back and resumed her reading. “I’m old enough to see things, Dad. I’m not a baby anymore.”

“No one said you were. And you’d better not forget who you’re talking to. I know that much.”

“Sorry.” She closed her magazine, placing it on the coffee table and crossing her arms.

“Anyway, would it make you feel better if I took the money back from him?”

This time she looked her dad directly in the eyes. “I think he’s wearing the money on his feet by now.”

“What do you want me to do, smarty?”

“Spend more time at home, Dad. Just try to spend more time at home.” Star took the remote and changed the channel to MTV.

“I’m home right now, and see, I can’t even watch a Lakers game.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Star, things should ease up after next year. But for right now, I’m peddling uphill just to remain focused enough to stay amongst the top players in the world. It’s more than a notion to do what I do.”

“I understand. Mom tells me that all the time. But why still peddle uphill when you’re already there.”

“Because the very road I traveled to get here, is the same road I’d have to take back down if I’m not careful. It’s like treading water just to stay afloat. Or peddling a bike so it doesn’t tip over. Don’t ever think you’ve arrived for good. There’s always someone else who’s younger, better, and more marketable.”

Star was silent.

Mason continued. “Okay, I promise next week, I’ll be home for three days straight and we’ll do something together, all four of us, okay?”

“Uh, huh,” she replied still staring at the television.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you, Dad. You’ve never lied to me.” She sat back and crossed her wrists over her head.

“For now, do me a favor and get your grandma to come to dinner. If anyone can, you can.”

She sat up. “No problem. Here. I’m turning back to the game for you.” Star handed him the remote, got up from the couch and walked down the hall toward her grandmother’s room.

“Thanks, Puddin’,” Mason said as she walked away.

She yelled to him, “Puddin’! Oh, Dad, I hate that name.”

“Okay, so now you’re too old for me to call you Puddin’, huh?” She did not reply.

“Dinner is just about ready,” Mercedes yelled from the kitchen. “Star, did you go get your grandma?”

“Coming, Mom,” Star yelled, responding to her mother instead.

Within five minutes, Venus arrived. Mason greeted her at the front door.

“Hey, Venus. Good to see you.”

She gave him a hug and took off her sweater, tossing it onto the arm of the living room sofa along with her purse. “You too, Mason. You’ve been busy lately, huh?”

“Yes, as usual. Mercedes is in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” she replied as Mason took his seat again.

Venus walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Mercedes. Can I help?”

“No thanks, girl. I’m just about done. Where’s Claude?” Mercedes asked.

“He’s on his way from a showing.”