Shit, did that sound like innuendo…
“And you looked great sitting up there,” he said with a wink. He held up his hands and started backpedaling. “Okay, see you in twenty.”
Sean turned and trotted across the field. I watch his ass move in the short-shorts until he disappeared into the clubhouse. I was gathering up my purse when a woman’s voice called out from above me. I looked up to see a gorgeous black woman holding a baby two rows up.
“You Sean’s latest?” she asked in a snide tone.
“What? No, I’m a journalist here to interview him,” I said. I climbed up a row and gave her a smile. I stuck out my hand. “Katie Holmes, from Playboy Magazine.”
She scrunched her nose at my hand and rolled her eyes. “Interview my ass.”
I let my hand drop to my side and gave her a frown. “No, really, look…” My bag was hanging over my shoulder. I dug one of the fake business cards out and held it out to her.
“See, Katie Holmes, Playboy Magazine. I’m a serious journalist.”
She scoffed at the card. “Sure you are, honey. And I’m Oprah Winfrey. Pleased to meet you.”
I tucked the card back into my purse and pushed the dark sunglasses to the top of my head. “Pleased to meet you, too, Oprah. You look amazing in person.”
She smiled at me. I noticed the baby she was holding was suckling her breast, which she had pulled out from under the Kings t-shirt she was wearing.
“That’s a beautiful baby,” I said. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” she said, wincing. “That’s why he can’t just suck my nipple. He has to chew on it like a damn mouthpiece.” She stuck out her free hand for me to shake. “Monique Broyles. Soon to be Monique Lewis.”
“Oh, are you marrying someone on the team?” I asked, shaking her hand. I wasn’t just asking to be nice. A story was forming in my mind. Football baby mamas…
“I’m marrying Leon Lewis, number 10” she said, nodding at a very large black man who was looking our way. “This is our third son, Leon Junior.”
“Wow, congratulations,” I said.
“Congratulations on having three kids with him or on finally convincing his big ass to marry me?”
I blinked at her. “Uh, congrats on both, I guess?”
“Thanks.” She rocked the baby and eyed me for a moment, as if she was assessing if I were friend or foe. “Are you really doing an interview? Or are you just looking to add Sean to your fuck-it list?”
“I’m sorry, my what…?
“Your fuck-it list,” she said, giving me a snarky look. “You know, the list of famous men you wanna fuck?”
I started to stammer. “Um, well, see, I don’t have a fuck-it list.” I gave her a goofy smile. “Should I?”
“I did, and look where it got me,” she said, giggling. “Look, honey, it’s none of my business what you do, but Sean Donovan has enough women crawling up his leg to get to that big old cock of his. Sean’s a good guy and Leon’s best friend, but if he’s not careful, his fucking and partying is gonna get him kicked off the team.”
My mental note-taker kicked into high gear. I took on a concerned look and asked, “So, he parties a little too much and it’s affecting his game?”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Does Oprah eat too much bread?” she asked. “That boy is out every night at the clubs, drinking, smoking dope, doing coke. He goes home with a different woman every night. It’s a wonder he ain’t done died of AIDS or OD’s or something.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Wow, I had no idea it was that bad…”
“That ain’t the half of it, honey.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “You did not hear this from me, but if Sean doesn’t straighten his ass out and do it quick, they’re gonna give Denzel Lockett his spot and trade Sean off to Minnesota or someplace.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, hoping she would agree to be a quoted source in the article that I was already writing in my head.
“Like I said, Leon is Sean’s best friend and he tries to look out for Sean. The coach told Leon that Sean’s job was on the line, hoping Leon could get him to straighten up.”
“So, if Sean Donovan doesn’t stop partying and sleeping around…”