Page 15 of The Brooklyn Way
“Aww, ma. I’m flattered,” I told her sincerely. “I can’t believe you sent me the good shit all the way from Chicago.”
“Actually, the good shit is coming from Virginia, because that’s where the Upton family is spending their summer.”
“Well, I wish y’all a relaxing summer. Hope my dude gets the opportunity to get some much-needed rest.”
“Thanks, Cameron. I hope he does too. I hope he takes some time to unwind and relax. Right now, he’s stressing over the fact that this upcoming season is gonna be a season of rebuilding.” She sighed. “Even if it wasn’t, I don’t know how much energy he would have toward legitimately going for a sixth win. He’s completely exhausted, in every sense of the word.”
“No cap.” I agreed with her. “Me too. Not only is my body protesting the thought of being put through those kinds of paces this season, my mind can’t even fathom it. I’m tapped out. I have nothing to give. Low-key, a season of rebuilding might be what we all need before we get back to chasing these rings.” I took a beat. “Don’t tell ya man I said that, though. Tell him that I’m ready to go for ring number six as soon as he is.”
She giggled. “Whatever, Cameron. Enjoy the summer and enjoy your food. Don’t forget to refrigerate it right away.”
“I won’t.” I ended the call, walked over to the sofa and plopped down. My intention was to watch the water and chill for a minute. That didn’t happen because sleep wrapped its tentacles around me, pulling me into a deep slumber.
I awoke what had to be a few hours later to someone ringing my doorbell like they were crazy and beating on the door like the damn cops. I rubbed my tired eyes, pulled myself up from the couch and made my way over to the door. There was a limited number of people who even knew that I was in town, so I was lost as to who would be laying on my doorbell.
“Who is it?” I swung open the door.
“This answers my question. Celebrity motherfuckers do answer their own doors on Jackson Island.”
I looked into the face of one of my closest friends, who also happened to be my cousin, Will. “Shut up,” I said, as he brushed past me and invited himself into my spot. I closed the door and followed him as he made his way to my kitchen.
It was then that I realized that he was carrying what looked like a big cooler.
“What’s that?” I watched him place it on the counter.
“Hell if I know, cuzzo. It was on your front porch.”
“Daaawwg.” After removing it from his hands, I looked around for something to open the packaging with. “This must be the food from Genesis.”
At the mere mention of her name, my stomach started to growl.
“Who’s Genesis? Some little shawtie you fuck with?”
I eyed him, before chuckling. “Nah, dawg. She’s my personal chef in Chicago. She sent me a care package, and I’m hungry as hell.”
“Me too. Bust that bad boy open.”
I started opening and closing drawers until I found the silverware. I grabbed a steak knife, slicing along the seam of the container. “So, you ready to get this work, cousin?” I asked Will as I worked diligently.
Will had recently been through a rough patch in life. He and his longtime girlfriend had just suffered the tragic loss of their daughter, who was born too early and didn’t survive. Their relationship had been a casualty of the trauma and the chaos. Will hadn’t been the same since Sharmia had taken her things and relocated to Biloxi.
I couldn’t imagine experiencing a loss the magnitude of what my cousin had gone through and was still dealing with. All I could offer Will was my sympathy, my compassion and distraction in the form of the opportunity to work with me for the summer. He was doing a lot of the administrative work for my summer basketball camp.
“Ay, I came through to see what you’re getting into tonight. It’s your first night back. You wanna fall through some spots? Pick up some women?” He watched me continue to fight with the package from Genesis. “Which, if I know you the way I know you, all you were planning to do was sit on your couch and watch ESPN or somethin’ like that.”
“Word, dawg. I’m still recuperating from the season that just ended and you know my mother expects me to show up to church in the morning. I can’t be out bullshittin’ with you all night long.”
“Yo’ ass be out bullshittin’ in Chicago every night. I see the pictures on the Gram, Dawg. You can’t show Jackson Island the same love?” He cut his dark eyes at me. “What? It’s fuck us?”
I finally sprang the food from the container prison. Setting the knife on the countertop, I gave Will’s shoulder a light shove. “Shut up.”
“What’s in there?” He peered over my shoulder into the container.
“The good shit.” I started taking food out. When I got to the seafood salad, I already knew what I was about to eat. I pawed through the rest of the food, looking for the… “Bingo!” I pulled out the loaf of French bread. “Let’s eat.”
For some reason that I would never be able to articulate, I let Will talk me into going out. We ended up closing down some club in Charleston. I managed to go home alone, which I considered a win. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on the women’s part, though. Almost every chick in the place had come up at some point to try to shoot her shot. I wasn’t there for that. So while I poured on the southern charm, I still turned down every offer.
Going home alone was the only win I got that night, though. I hung out much longer than I should have and drank more than I should have too. When Carrington called to tell me that she was on her way to pick me up for church, lifting my head from the pillow was a struggle. I stumbled to the bathroom, took a cold shower, and tried to wake myself up.