A Game Between Friends
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Yahrah St. John
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19,5K
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20
Prologue
“Darling, I’m thrilled you could join us this evening,” Angelique Lockett gushed when her son Xavier arrived at the skybox lounge at the Atlanta Cougars stadium.
His older brothers, Roman and Julian, and sister, Giana, had already arrived to watch the game. His new sister-in-law, Shantel, was also there.
“Hey, Ma.” Xavier approached his mother and kissed her cheek. She eyed his ensemble. He’d come casually dressed in dark jeans, Jordan sneakers and, in a nod to his mother, a button-down blue shirt.
His work schedule as a sportscaster usually didn’t allow him to attend Sunday games during the football season, but the network wanted to test out a new weekend commentator, so Xavier was sitting this one out. And before taking this job, Xavier had never had much opportunity to enjoy the family’s private skybox, with its plush beige carpet, upholstered chairs, mahogany-paneled walls holding large television screens, and the huge marble-encased bar. That was because he’d been on the football field. But that was another lifetime.
The knee injury he’d sustained three years ago when he’d been the Cougars quarterback ended any chance he’d ever have of playing ball again. Xavier felt like a failure. He’d let down his old man. Let the team down. Before he was injured, the Atlanta Cougars were on a winning streak and poised to win their first championship, but then Xavier had made a wrong move that landed him under a mountain of men. He’d been carried off the field on a stretcher. It had been demoralizing.
“Should I be concerned you’re not on-air?” his father inquired. Josiah had used his connections to help Xavier get the job, but that wasn’t why he’d kept it. Xavier excelled at everything he did and once he found his groove, sportscasting had been no different. “You know there’s always a place in the coaching department of the Atlanta Cougars.”
“Everything’s fine,” Xavier replied and came toward the bar where Julian was stationed, drinking a tumbler of dark liquid. It wasn’t the first time his father had brought up the possibility of him coaching the team, and Xavier suspected it wouldn’t be the last.
“You avoided the hot seat,” Julian said with a grin. “Must be one of our turns.”
Xavier grinned back. There was no love lost between Julian and their father. They were incompatible. “Sorry, bro.”
Julian was a smooth talker, and the ladies loved his toffee coloring, curly fade, light brown eyes and perpetual five-o’clock shadow. He was fashionably dressed in navy trousers and a silk shirt. He made Xavier his usual, a Scotch on the rocks, which he accepted. Xavier took a generous swallow to take the edge off—being here at the stadium was never easy. Brought back too many memories.
“The game should be starting soon,” his mother announced. “I’ll have the staff bring around the canapés.”
Xavier and Julian both chuckled. Usually, they ate football fare when watching a game, like wings, nachos, bratwurst or chips and dip, but if their mother was in attendance? Only elevated appetizers would do.
“What are you two whispering about?” Giana asked, coming toward them. His beautiful, chocolate-hued sister wore a jean jumpsuit with a large belt wrapped around her slender waist. She wasn’t quite as tall as Xavier, but she was statuesque and reached his shoulders. Her ebony hair was the same as their mother’s, except Giana wore hers with wispy bangs.
“Staying off Dad’s radar,” Julian responded.
“Good luck with that.” Giana chuckled.
“You better hope he doesn’t ask you about Wynn Starks and why you haven’t secured a sports drink endorsement contract with him yet,” Julian quipped.
Giana rolled her eyes. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I always get my man.” She gave him a wink.
Their attention turned to the ninety-two-inch television screen. The game hadn’t started, but the commentators were talking about the odds of the Atlanta Cougars winning, now that they had a new quarterback in Wayne Brown.
“Darn straight,” Josiah shouted from across the room. “He’s a terrific addition to the team and will get us a championship.”
Is that a dig at me? Xavier wondered.
A light had gone out in Josiah’s eyes when the doctors told Xavier he would never play football again. Xavier didn’t know who was more upset, he or his father. So he’d allowed Josiah to bring in doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist until eventually Xavier had told him to stop. He was never going to be fixed.
Did that also mean he wasn’t good enough to be Josiah’s son?
It had taken Xavier months in therapy to realize he couldn’t let football define him. The counselor had helped him see his life was his own and he could and should make choices that made him happy. Instead, as soon as he returned to Atlanta from the clinic, his father had pushed his agenda. Become a sports commentator, he’d said. And being the dutiful son, Xavier had complied.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Giana said from his side. “Are you okay?”
Xavier sipped his drink. “Sure.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
Xavier shrugged and focused his attention on the television screen because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing in the middle of the field was Porscha Childs. Xavier blinked several times to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
He wasn’t.
Damn, she still looked good.
No, correct that. She looked better.
The years had been kind to her. The singer’s tawny-brown skin gleamed. Her deep-set light brown eyes sparkled while her long jet-black hair hung in tussled waves down her slender back. She was smoking hot in a royal blue tuxedo dress with a deep V neckline. Her lush lips were bright red and totally kissable.
It made Xavier recall another time when he’d gotten to taste Porscha’s lips.
Xavier had been at a wellness facility in Colorado that specialized in care for the mind and body. The facility was frequented by athletes and celebrities, so Xavier had signed up to attend and rehabilitate his knee but also work on his mental health. Losing his lifelong dream had resulted in a deep depression.
Before arriving at the clinic, he’d wallowed for months until his father gave him a kick in the butt and told him to work out his issues. It was exactly what Xavier needed to jump-start him on the road to recovery. And so he’d flown to the facility in Colorado, and every day he dutifully worked the program, physical therapy in the mornings and group therapy in the afternoons.
It was there that he met the most stunning creature he’d ever seen. The first time he saw her, she was trying her best to be unassuming in a large kimono sweater wrapped around her frame. Her long black hair hung in a ponytail down her back, but it was her light brown eyes that spoke to him. Maybe because it was clear she didn’t want to be there. She looked terrified of being called on by the group leader, who was known for putting newbies on the spot to get them to talk. It hadn’t been easy for Xavier, either, to explain to the group why he was in therapy, but he’d done it, and she would, too.
He’d moved toward her and as he approached, her eyes landed on him. Xavier took a seat beside her. “Hey, name’s Xavier.”
Her eyes had drifted downward, and he’d wondered if she was going to speak, but then she’d said, “Hi.”
“Is that all I get? I told you my name.” He’d offered her a smile.
When she glanced up at him, he’d groaned and squeezed his eyes shut for a split second before opening them again. Heavens! Up close, her eyes were designed to make a man melt. She’d given him a half smile and his eyes zoomed to her delicious mouth, which had a tint of pink lipstick. “I’m Porscha.” She’d held out her small hand.
Xavier took it in his and shook it. He’d been ready to say they could be friends during their stay, but something told him he and Porscha were going to be more than friends. Much more.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Giana said from Xavier’s side, bringing him back to the present as Porscha belted out the national anthem. “I love all her music.”
“Yeah, she’s all right,” Julian commented from behind them. “I don’t know if I could handle all the attention that comes with being with someone as famous as her.”
“You get plenty of press,” Xavier responded, defending Porscha.
Julian shrugged. “Local stuff. But her—” he pointed to the television “—the national press dogs her. That’s a lot of pressure to live up to.”
They had no idea, Xavier thought.
He recalled his and Porscha’s discussion in the clinic about how she was always trying to keep up with her public persona and how when she failed, the public were quick to criticize. It was hard living up to the idealized version they had in their mind of who and what she should be.
He missed Porscha.
They’d been good together in and out of bed.
Maybe he could do something about that.
Xavier placed his drink on the bar. “I’ll be right back.” He knew his family would probably think he needed a break because of the game. He tended to avoid the stadium, but that wasn’t it. He had to see Porscha.
“Where are you going?” his father asked. “The game is about to start.”
“I’ll be back,” Xavier murmured and quickly left the skybox. Once in the corridor, he raced toward the elevator that would take him to the lower level. He was betting Porscha wouldn’t immediately leave the stadium but would instead go back to the dressing room and grab her things before escaping.
Xavier hoped he wasn’t wrong.
Porscha was exhausted. She’d taken a red-eye from Germany, where she’d held a concert the night before at a military base. All she wanted was to go home, curl up in her own bed and go to sleep. Instead, her mother and manager, Diane Childs, had insisted she take this last-minute request to sing the national anthem for the Atlanta Cougars after another songstress bowed out due to a bout of laryngitis.
“The next six months are crucial,” Diane had said once they were in the dressing room after last night’s performance. “It’s the final stretch before the Grammys. We want to keep your name on everyone’s lips. The more exposure for you, the better.”
And Porscha had relented.
She had worked too hard to get to this point. She had come from nothing. Her mother had gotten pregnant at eighteen and married her father, who’d eventually left them in relative poverty for another woman, whom he married and started another family with. Her mother had been devastated and consequently put all her focus on Porscha. When she had discovered Porscha could sing, she put her in singing competitions. Eventually, Porscha was picked up by a small record label.
Her first album had been a multiplatinum success, garnering her three Grammys and countless awards from Billboard to American Music. But success had brought its own scrutiny. The press were tough because she wasn’t the average model size. Porscha thought the world was her oyster and then the second album came, bringing with it the sophomore jinx. It bombed. The press had been critical, and she’d fallen off the pedestal.
Afterward, she’d tumbled into a vicious depression, which only became worse when her father died a short while later. Although he’d contributed financially, she hadn’t had a relationship with him prior to his passing, so his death, and the fact she would never get a resolution to the anger and disappoint she felt, hit her hard. That’s when Diane had suggested she check into a wellness clinic in Denver that celebrities went to. Therapy had been a wake-up call, and Porscha fought her way back tooth and nail, although she hadn’t done it by herself. She’d had help.
Xavier Lockett.
Sometimes just saying his name made her breath catch.
During her time at the clinic, they’d had a passionate affair, but Porscha had made the mistake of thinking it meant more. She’d thought they shared a connection. Then she’d overheard him discussing their relationship with another group member. He told the man that they were friends and nothing more. That was when she’d realized it had all been an illusion, but she’d been too caught up in the amazing sex to see the difference. Their breakup had been less than amicable.
It was why she limited her visits to Atlanta, because Xavier lived here. And for three years, she’d done good with only one visit to the stadium for a stop on her third album tour. But this? Singing the national anthem for the Atlanta Cougars was a recipe for disaster. There was a real possibility they could run into each other.
Although she’d done her best to steer clear of him, once in a while she looked Xavier up online to see what he was up to. He was a sports commentator for ASN and appeared to be doing well. She noticed that in the years since their breakup, he’d begun collecting women like trophies, showing them off at sports industry parties or high-profile events in Atlanta. Yet he never stayed with any of them for long. As soon as they lost their shiny newness, he discarded them, and it was on to the next best thing.
Porscha didn’t have time for romance. Her career was her focus. She’d learned the hard way that she was a sucker when it came to men, so she’d been celibate. No man had ever aroused her passion like Xavier had.
She pushed Xavier out of her mind, determined to focus on the movie she was filming and its upcoming soundtrack. All she needed to do was change and get out of Lockett territory as fast as she could.
Xavier rushed past the locker rooms, physical therapy and recovery areas and arrived at the dressing rooms. Several bodyguards greeted him.
“Excuse me, sir. You’re going to have to go back where you came from,” one of the tall, beefy guards said, looking him up and down.
Luckily, Xavier still had his credentials on his lanyard and quickly showed them.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize you were one of the Locketts,” the guard apologized. “Please...” He motioned Xavier forward.
“No worries. Where’s Ms. Childs’s room?” Xavier inquired. “I wanted to thank her for her rendition of the national anthem.”
The guard led him down the hall to a door with a banner stating Talent.
“Thank you. I’ve got it from here.” Xavier sucked in a breath and prepared himself for the less than enthusiastic greeting he was sure to receive. He and Porscha had broken up on bad terms. She thought he was a player using her for sex, but that had been far from true. They shared a bond and had gotten each other through the worst time in their lives.
Xavier knocked on the door. “Come in,” a soft female voice said. He stepped inside the room and heard, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Porscha supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d known she could run into Xavier, but she didn’t think he would seek her out because he hadn’t in three years. And despite the surge of anger that sprang up from his sudden appearance, she had butterflies fluttering around in her tummy.
How was it possible he could still affect her like this?
In defiance of that revelation, she went with contempt. “I’ll ask you again, what are you doing here?”
“I would think that’s obvious,” Xavier responded. “I came to see you.”
“Ha!” Porscha laughed without humor.
Her mother rose from the couch she’d been sitting on. Diane Childs. She was tall with a slim build. She preferred trousers to dresses because they suited her more. She wore her hair in a sophisticated bob and preferred a swipe of lipstick and mascara to wearing any real makeup over her smooth fawn complexion. “Xavier Lockett, I presume?” she asked sizing him up.
“One and the same, ma’am.”
“Then you know you shouldn’t be here. Porscha is on a tight schedule.”
“Perhaps, Porscha—” Xavier leaned sideways to glance behind Diane “—can speak for herself.”
“I’m her manager.”
“Mom, it’s okay, I’ve got this.” Porscha had a lot to say. Words she should have said three years ago.
Her mother turned to peer at her. “If you’re sure?”
Porscha nodded. Diane stared at her for several seconds before she exited the room, leaving her and Xavier alone.
“It’s good to see you. You look amazing,” Xavier said.
“Of course, you’d say that.” Porscha folded her arms across her bosom. “Because you were only interested in me for one thing.”
“C’mon, Porscha. You know that’s not true.”
“Do I, Xavier?” she asked from a safe distance on the other side of the room because she knew she couldn’t get any closer. Xavier had a way of pulling her in and she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t that easy. Or at least that was what she told herself.
“Yes, you do,” he responded hotly. His eyes zeroed in on hers and Porscha found she couldn’t look away. “It wasn’t just physical. We helped get each other through a rough patch.”
“That’s not what you said back then.”
“Because I wasn’t about to put our business on blast to everyone in the clinic. It was private. Just between us.”
“And you really expect me to believe that?” Porscha asked. “It’s been three years, Xavier, and you’ve never tried to clear the air. So why now?”
“When I saw you upstairs on that television screen, I knew it wasn’t over between us, Porscha.” Xavier moved from the spot he’d been rooted to and strolled toward her. Porscha stepped backward until her hip hit the mirrored cabinet behind her. There was no place for her to run. “And seeing you up close and in person, I’m certain of it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” Xavier responded. “I haven’t seen you date often over the last three years.”
Porscha snorted. “Unlike you, who’s been seen with lots of women.”
Xavier smiled. “So you’ve been following me, huh?”
Porscha tossed her mane of jet-black curls over her shoulder. “Not really.”
“Liar.” He took a step toward her.
Porscha wanted to push him backward away from her, to batter his shoulders, but deep down she didn’t want to.
So when he reached out and tunneled his hand through her hair, bringing her closer, she let him. He lowered his head and when she was inches away from his face, he said, “Tell me you don’t want this.” His tone was deep, smoky and sexy, causing a shiver to course down her spine.
Within seconds, she reached up and pulled him down toward her. Their mouths came together in an explosive kiss that sent a shock wave of lust through her body.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. Porscha tried to stay in the present, but the past merged with the present, flooding her with memories of how insatiable she’d once been for this man.
She refused to moan at the bliss of his kiss, but he tasted divine. When he used his tongue to lick across the seam of her lips, she opened to the demanding thrust of his tongue, relishing the erotic play. Xavier’s lips were firm yet gentle, teasing hers until she gasped and whimpered, clinging to him. How was it that just one kiss from this man could make her frenzied with need? She could feel the place between her legs swell to life and moisten with excitement.
When Xavier pulled away, a craving for more built inside her. “Are we over, Porscha?” He looked down into her passion-glazed eyes and there was only one answer she could give.
No.
