The Ex Project by Nia Arthurs

Chapter Nineteen

Since seeing Yolanda on Sunday,Duane had thought about calling her approximately a hundred times. He longed to hear the sound of her voice and, maybe, talk her into going for a drive. He missed her. Her laughter. Her smell. Her lips.

Lord, he missed her lips.

He’d never been a fan of kissing, much preferring all the stuff that came after. But the way Yolanda’s mouth felt against his, Duane could kiss her all day long and it wouldn’t feel but a minute.

Unfortunately, Yolanda hadn’t been responding to his texts.

Even worse?

For the past two days, it was Devon who picked up Theo after football practice.

Duane was feeling a little annoyed about that. Annoyed and ornery.

The frustration came out in his voice when Devon approached him on Wednesday after practice.

“I hear you’re having a one-day football competition,” Yolanda’s ex said. He was dressed all in black, despite Belize’s blistering temperatures.

In contrast, Duane wore old football cleats, jogging pants, and a white cotton T-shirt. Despite the vest underneath, he was still sweating like a snow cone in an oven.

“Yes, the competition is this Saturday.”

“Ah.”

Theo put his cell phone down to say, “We’re playing against a group from Cayo. Coach said they’re really good, but we’re better!”

“Wow,” Devon said with fake excitement. “Cayo.”

“You’ll be there, right?” Theo looked up at his dad with stars in his eyes.

Duane’s heart flopped. He found himself hoping right along with the kid. Please say yes. Don’t disappoint him.

“Of course I’ll be there.”

Both he and Theo let out a breath of relief.

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.” Devon’s black eyes swerved to him.

Duane saw Theo in that look. In fact, standing side-by-side, he could see all the similarities between father and son. The slope of Theo’s chin, the shape of his nose and even the way he tilted his head to the side was a carbon copy of Devon.

It bothered him.

No matter how close he got to this family, Devon would always be Theo’s father. Was there a place for him in Theo’s life? What would happen if Yolanda finally admitted her feelings and they tried to make this relationship work? How would Theo navigate having two men in his life functioning as a father? Would he just complicate and confuse everything?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Duane folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure what you need to discuss, but the competition isn’t anything fancy. I’ve invited teams from other districts for a skirmish. The winning team will get a cash prize. It’s that simple.”

“Is the event sponsored by the sports federation?”

“No.” His jaw clenched. He didn’t know why Devon was asking about sponsorships, but he was getting a really bad feeling.

“Ah.” Devon chuckled to himself.

“If you have something to say, you can just spit it out.”

“It’s nothing.” He scrubbed his beard and mumbled loudly, “Good ole’ Yolanda, always willing to open that purse string.”

Duane’s fingers balled into a fist. It was only Theo, who was watching them with those ever-observant eyes, that made him stand down.

He forced a smile and kept his tone level. “You’re mistaken. I’m sponsoring the competition with my own money. Saturday’s event is the official start of my football league.”

“A league?”

“Yes.” Duane could launch into the speech of his vision for the future. How he’d love to see athletes treated with respect in this country. How it was only fair that they were paid for their hard work rather than being forced to work two jobs to provide for their families.

But his speech would be lost on Devon anyway. Theo’s father was obviously on a mission to taunt him.

“I see.” Devon smirked. “You don’t need Yollie’s money for this little tournament—” he said ‘tournament’ the way one would say ‘cow manure’. “You’re thinking bigger and better, right? Because building a league won’t be cheap and Yolanda knows a lot of rich people…”

Duane’s temper snapped and he held on to it with both hands, using all the restraint in his body. “Yolanda’s encouragement is the only thing I need from her. My league is starting small, but I’m not in a rush. I’m willing to work hard and move one step at a time.” He glanced at Theo and offered him a reassuring smile. “No matter how long it takes, I’m going to build the football league until it’s successful. Players like Theo deserve to have a path to live their dreams at home.” Sharpening his eyes, he spat at Devon. “I’m doing this for them. Not for money.”

“Right. Right. Big dreams, man. I know about building empires myself.”

“Do you?”

“Did I tell you I own my own music studio?”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, man.” Devon pushed out his chest. “I’ve produced Little Jiggy, Coconut Man and Rice and Peas. Ever heard of them?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Devon strutted like a rooster anyway. “Before I did music, I played a little football myself.” He rubbed Theo’s head and then pulled his son into his side. “That’s why I encouraged my son to take up the ball. Trying to pass on the legacy.”

Duane just bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile, waiting for the conversation to be over.

“We should have a little one-on-one some time,” Devon offered.

“Dad, why don’t you play in the game this Saturday?”

Duane stiffened.

“Me?” Devon looked amused.

“Coach, didn’t you say that you needed players for the final match?”

“I did…” He rubbed the back of his neck. In retrospect, it might not have been the best idea to mention that to his players.

“Dad, you should play.”

“I’m game.” Devon stared him down. “Sign me up.”

“I’ll do that.”

“See you on the field, Marden. Let’s go, Theo.” Devon turned his kid by the shoulder and marched him through the gate.

“Bye, coach!” Theo waved happily.

Duane waved back until the two disappeared and then he rubbed his temple.

Just then, his phone rang. He quickly fished it out of his pocket, hoping for Yolanda’s name to pop up on the screen.

Instead, it was his mother.

He strode over to the shade to get out of the sun and answered, “Hey, ma.”

“Hi, baby. What kind of nacho cheese do you think we should sell at the tournament Saturday? Blended white cheese or the yellow-cheese from the can?”

“I’m not sure, mom,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay? Your voice sounds funny.”

“I’m fine. I just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Is all this planning for the tournament getting to you?” His mom’s voice went low and soothing. “Sweetie, you don’t have to do it by yourself. Your father and I are already pitching in. So are your brothers.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

“What’s this really about?” His mother had a supernatural maternal instinct that could read moods through the phone.

“There’s this girl…”

“Ooh! Am I getting grandbabies?”

He chuckled. “Mom.”

“Sorry. Continue. You finally have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend yet.” He planted his hands on his hips.

“Why not? You’re not getting any younger, Duane. What’s the holdup?”

“She’s one of my parents.”

His mom went quiet.

Duane winced. He hadn’t thought of his parents’ reaction to Yolanda having a child. Now that it was out in the open, he braced himself for the worst.

But the worst never came.

“Oh how wonderful!” His mother screeched. “A built-in grandchild? Oh, I couldn’t ask for more. What’s her name? What’s the child’s name? When do we meet her?”

“I’d love if you could meet her tomorrow.”

“That serious?”

“I am. But she…”

“Oh.” His mother’s voice got reserved. “She’s being a little more careful.”

He leaned against a lamppost. “She has a son.”

“Understandable. You need to be more sensitive and respectful in a situation like this, Duane.”

“I know that.”

“Is that why you’re so down?”

“She hasn’t been answering my texts and I’m going crazy missing her.”

“So go and see her.”

“Don’t you think that’s too… forward?”

She laughed. “Does she like you?”

“I think so.” He thought of the way they’d kissed after the art gallery date. Yolanda hadn’t exactly told him she liked him. She hadn’t said anything at all, but initiating a kiss meant he wasn’t falling alone, right?

“Then stop hesitating and go after her. And make sure you don’t go empty-handed.”

Duane pondered his mother’s advice as he locked up the equipment and headed home. Yolanda was an heiress with the world at her feet. What could he give a woman who had everything?

Wearily, Duane strode into his mid-sized apartment and tossed his keys on the counter. The room was cluttered with football gear, posters, banners and the trophies he’d ordered for the event.

He’d invested a pretty penny in his first official tournament, and he was working until two a.m. every day to get the details right. However, he just couldn’t concentrate on the work he had to do tonight.

“What could I give her?” he mumbled.

Nothing came to mind.

In a fit of frustration, he set the laptop aside and padded to the kitchen. A cool blast of air hit his face as he rummaged through the fridge for a beer and returned to the laptop. While he sipped the cold brew, an idea hit.

K-pop. Yolanda had glowed like a lightning bug when he mentioned Zaka was into those Asian songs too. Maybe…

He pulled his laptop closer and started typing. “K-pop apparel?” He scrolled site after site. It felt like a totally new world. “Why would anyone want a pillow with some guy’s face on it?” He gawked. “Is she really into this stuff?”

At a complete loss, Duane tapped away from the K-pop apparel site and, mistakenly, clicked on a link to sign up for a membership. At once, his laptop started blinking and a giant message popped up.

You are the thousandth member.

You have been chosen to receive a video message from Ong Sung-hoon.

“Who the heck is Ong Sung-hoon?” Duane yelled, desperately clicking away from the page.

Then he froze. Pressed the ‘undo’ button.

The message popped up again.

Was this legit?

He typed out all his information and waited on pins and needles. To his surprise, he received an official email asking for the message he wanted Ong Sung-hoon to record.

So giddy he felt like he was flying, Duane tapped out the message and shot it off to the K-pop star’s agency.

The offer seemed too good to be true and he was half-convinced it was a hoax but, the next morning, he woke up to a responding email along with a video message from an Asian man wearing makeup and lipstick.

Duane was never so excited to receive a cheesy video message from a man in his life. He shot out of bed so fast he was almost dizzy.

Jumping on top of his mattress, he shot out a fist in victory. “Yes!”

Once he’d settled down, he maneuvered to his messenger app to send Yolanda another text, but he was interrupted by an incoming phone call.

“Casey?” he mumbled in confusion. After sending his star player a bunch of texts, all he’d gotten in response was a terse message to leave him alone.

Duane had decided to let the teenager cool off. In a few days, he planned on dragging Casey back to practice with the promise that he would pay whatever he was making at the construction site.

Duane swiped his thumb across the screen and answered the call. “Casey, what’s going on?”

“Coach,” a young man’s voice sobbed across the line, “something bad happened. Can you come get me?”