Keeping Busy Read online

  Keeping Busy

  A Novella

  Tracy Gray

  Copyright © 2020 Tracy Gray-Caruthers

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author.

  ISBN-13-9798696515809

  Cover Design: Kerry Sovde Design

  Editing: LRB1 Style! Editing Services

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  This book is for those in my inner circle who always answer “the call” – most specifically LaShann Rochelle Bailey (who answers the call REPEATEDLY and with a dedication that sometimes I even have trouble matching).

  Kacie Gray-Caruthers (who is forced to answer the call, but does it graciously…every time).

  Jacqualyne “Jackie” Nichols (who is never too busy no matter what time the “call” comes in, and ALWAYS makes herself available for me).

  Brandy Means (who makes sure to always cheer me on).

  Shwanda Cross (who volunteered to answer the call).

  Kerry Sovde (who was dragged into answering the call, but who has become an integral part of this book journey.

  Thank you, ladies! Because of you being you, I can be and do me.

  ~ Tracy Gray

  Table of Content

  Title Page1

  Copyright2

  Dedication3

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 220

  Chapter 337

  Chapter 452

  Chapter 561

  Chapter 682

  Chapter 799

  Chapter 8113

  Chapter 9125

  Chapter 10144

  Chapter 11159

  The End169

  Afterword170

  Maddox

  1

  How the hell did my life get here? I whispered to myself, looking up at the ornate cathedral ceiling. I thought about the last few months, and shook my head. The truth was that I only had myself to blame. I was the one who latched onto Ainsley, even though I knew that she didn’t have a damn thing going for herself and was only with me because I’m Maddox Mayhew. I was the one who repeatedly made bad decisions where she was concerned. I was the one who was out of control on June 21st - the one who drank until I passed out and didn’t hear the shit that was happening right under my nose.

  Of course I never expected Ainsley to be my downfall, she was just something to do for a minute. I never expected her to have another dude in my house. I never expected them to be getting high, and having sex in my house. And I definitely didn’t expect her to blame me, when he flipped out and beat her ass in my house. Then I was arrested in my own house, removed from my own house, and charged with assault and battery from an event that took place in my own house.

  If it hadn’t been for the cameras from the extensive security system I’d installed capturing the whole shit and vindicating me, I would have lost everything. My career. My livelihood. My future. My reputation. My name.

  As it was, I still took a hit. While it took mere hours for the story about me being arrested and held for assault and battery against Ainsley Neuberg to hit the media, it took two days for my team to get my security footage to Ainsley’s team, and even longer for her to recant the story and clear my name. Normally, the media isn’t even pressed about what football players are into during the off-season, but leave it to me and my fuck ups to draw all kinds of unwanted attention. Especially the attention that I caught from several women’s groups calling for the Leopards to release me, and seriously threatening my endorsement deals.

  It didn’t help my cause at all, that even after she recanted her lie, Ainsley went on every talk show, podcast, blog or vlog that would have her. She accused me of having been abusive during our entire time together. Not physically abusive, needless to say, but mentally, emotionally and verbally abusive, which of course drove her to take drugs and sleep with other men. I had to threaten to take legal action against her to get her crazy, attention-seeking ass to stand down. It was a shit show.

  And while her stories were obviously untrue, I still felt like the consensus was, “that’s what I got for messing around with a white chick. A black man should know better.” My reputation was in the toilet, and I was coming into my last season under the current contract, not turning shit around and quickly didn’t bode well for my prospects as an unrestricted free-agent. The only thing that I had going for me was the numbers I posted last season. All good. Voted back to the Pro-Bowl for the seventh time, nominated for the Art Rooney Award - I had a good season. But the shenanigans with Ainsley did take a toll.

  Luckily, my professional team was loyal. My agent, Ayana Truesdale, who I referred to as “True” was definitely loyal to me, even though she was disappointed in me for “taking up with Ainsley’s ass” in the first place. My attorney, Brandon, was loyal, but he didn’t have a choice, since 1; he’s my younger brother and 2; I paid for him to get the law degree. And finally, my sports management team stuck with me. Sydnie Whitmore was my rep, and she knew her shit. Things were going to turn around for me, I just had to figure out how to be patient while they did.

  At the moment, I was sitting in church. I planned to be patient, but a little divine intervention never hurt. It wasn’t Sunday morning or anything. Actually, it was a Tuesday afternoon and I was sitting in a pew at St. Phillip Neri Catholic church on the South Side of Chicago. It wasn’t my “home” church, but I had grown up a few blocks away. I was actually raised at (read: forced to attend by my grandmother) Fellowship Baptist Church, but when my grandmother needed a hit of Jesus during the mid-week, she wasn’t too proud to walk down to the local Catholic church and say her prayers, believing that we had different ways of doing so, but we all served the same Jesus.

  “Lord,” I began the prayer, having no idea where it would end up, “I know I’ve been doing things the “Maddox” way and fuck...messing them up. But I want to try to walk with you, Man. I just need you to show me that you’re walking with me. Amen.” I crossed myself in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit, having no idea why I was doing it, except that was what my grandmother had always done, then stood up. I walked over to where they kept the candles, placed a few bills in the donation box, then lit a candle for my grandmother (God rest her soul), one for the homeless, and one for the helpless, then I headed back to my grandmother’s house. True was flying into Chicago to meet with me, and she was bringing Sydnie Whitmore with her. It was time to take action.

  Sydnie Whitmore was impressive as hell. As far as I was concerned, it would be hard for me to do better. She double majored at Walker University, earning degrees in both Economics and Communication & Media. She was educated, highly skilled and had mastered the art of the “spin.”

  “Look, Maddox.” She said to me, her serious brown eyes piercing mine. “Let’s be real. It’s not just the clusterfuck that happened on your premises the night of June 21st that has affected your reputation and cachet. It was the bar brawl that…”

  “That wasn’t a brawl.” I muttered.

  “Stop being an asshole and listen to her Maddox. You pulled both of us away from sunny California to finish cleaning up your shit before training camp. Stop being an asshole.” True chastised.

  “It’s sunny here, too, True.” I couldn’t help pointing out, just to mess with her.

  She ignored me. Well, actually she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, but then she ignored me.

  Technically, True
worked for me, but if you viewed our dynamic, it would be hard to tell. True was a mother figure in my life. She treated me, and talked to me the same way she talked to her own son, who was also in the league and was one of my closest dudes. She fought for me, like she fought for him, too. Pulled my coat-tail, and praised me the same, as well. She was a mama bear and a pit bull in a skirt. I hired her on draft day. There was never a doubt in my mind that she would be my agent. She was willing to and capable of moving mountains for her clients.

  I turned my gaze back to Sydnie. She was a pretty girl. Skin the color of dark chocolate, creamy and smooth. She wore her naturally curly hair wild and loose in a huge afro. Her eyes were dark brown, and intelligent. She didn’t miss much.

  “What were you saying?” I asked her.

  “What has affected your reputation was the bar brawl that happened, allegedly because a patron got a little too friendly with Ainsley Neuberg. Then there was the car accident, and the rumors about you being drunk when it happened...with Ainsley in the truck. Then there was the time that you climbed into Buckingham Fountain with her to…”

  “Which was the dumbest shit ever.” True cut in. “How are you gonna disrespect your hometown like that, Busy?”

  She called me by my childhood nickname, but that didn’t really soften the blow. “Come on, True. You know I would never disrespect Chicago like that. I wasn’t trying to climb into Buckingham Fountain. Who the fuck tries to climb into Buckingham Fountain?”

  “I don’t know. But your ass was in there. With...her.”

  Nobody hated Ainsley Neuberg more than Ayana Truesdale. If Ainsley ever ended up missing, I would already know who to suspect.

  “I was trying to get her dumb ass out.” I defended myself.

  “Maybe if you weren’t drunk, you would’ve known that getting in there yourself was dumb as hell.” She eyed me meanly, but I knew it was all love. “Do I need to find a 12 step program for you, Busy? Tell me now, while we’re in the off season, and still have a few weeks before training camp.”

  “I’m good.” I assured her. “I’m not drinking. I don’t even wanna think about drinking.”

  She softened her glare. “Look, I know this is about your grandmother, I know it is. Her death has been...devastating for every member of your family.”

  I wanted to tune her out, because the last thing I wanted to do was talk about my grandmother, but I didn’t. I needed to man-up and stop wallowing in my self-pity.

  “But she put more into you, than for you to fall apart when you need to hold it together the most. You’re 32 years old, Busy. You’ve got what? Four, maybe five years left in this league. Finish out on a high note, Baby. Let’s get this money, and make sure you have enough to retire and live comfortably on. Let’s repair your image, so that you can put on one of those expensive ass suits that you love to buy, and sit in front of the camera talking about football, instead of being out there on the field punishing your body playing it. Okay?”

  I nodded my head in the affirmative. “Okay.”

  We both looked at Sydnie.

  “Okay.” She said. “Here’s what we’re doing to repair your image.”

  Sydnie went through a list, which included me being highly visible for the last week of the youth camp that I sponsored in Chicago each summer. She talked about her plans to have me do a few PSAs about violence against women, and make a donation to a women’s shelter. I was definitely with that. We talked about the upcoming charity event for violence against women that I was expected to chair, and about me being the face of a campaign for “black and missing” women and children.

  “That brings me to my next point, Maddox.” Sydnie told me. “I would like to see you ‘settle down’.”

  There were air quotes used around the phrase “settle down.”

  “In what way?”

  “I think it would be good if we brought in a woman that could appear strategically on your arm at events, and in the media. You know, someone…”

  “Black?” True asked.

  “I was gonna say high profile.” I commented.

  Sydnie was slow to speak. “Black would be great. Since you were voted Football Life’s Sexiest Defensive Player two years ago, women have loved you. Black women in particular. They’re some of your biggest supporters and fans, Maddox. You’re a good-looking single guy that they can fantasize about, but polling shows that as a group they won’t support you if they feel that you don’t support them. i.e.: dating outside of your race. Shenanigans with women who are...outside of your race are completely frowned upon.”

  “They didn’t need a poll for that.” True said. “Any black woman will tell you, getting in all of this legal trouble behind some white woman and her foolishness makes us feel like…”

  “I got what I deserved. I know.” And I did know. How many times had my grandmother ridden my ass about staying the hell away from white women and their foolishness? Truth be told, white women weren’t even my preference. Still, when Ainsley approached me at that party, I entertained her, instead of blowing her off.

  “So,” Sydnie continued. “This woman would just be there to, you know, show the world that you’re a good guy - a good ‘partner’, if you will. She’ll smile, and look at you adoringly. You’ll hold on to her arm when you two walk, open car doors for her. You know? Just basically take control of the narrative of who you are as a person off the field, instead of letting Ainsley control it. She has a five day head-start, but unless she can produce some video or other receipts to back up her claims, I think she’s running out of steam.”

  “Unless you got her pregnant. Is there any chance that you got her pregnant, Busy?” True eyed me.

  “Nah. I mean, she was smashing dude in my house, she could be pregnant. Who the hell knows? And she could pretend that it’s mine, and drag this thing out for 9 months, but once the baby comes, it won’t be mine.”

  “We’ll deal with that if it comes up.” Sydnie said, typing furiously into her phone. “But for now, is there any woman that you know who would be willing to help you out in this capacity? She doesn’t need to have celebrity status, you have your own celebrity, Maddox. You’re a household name. I think the most important thing, is that the candidate be believable. She needs to be pretty, and sophisticated, and...”

  “Level-headed.” That was True. “We don’t need any hot heads making the situation worse than it already is.”

  “True.” Sydnie agreed, “and if she could have a good background - nothing in her past that could embarrass or ignite another firestorm, that would be fabulous.”

  “How long are we talking?” True asked.

  Sydnie looked up from her phone. “I’m thinking, at least through the season. Could be longer. I feel most comfortable saying let’s play it by ear.”

  “I don’t have anybody off the top of my head.” I said, slowly. I mean, of course I knew women. Plenty of them. And I knew women who would certainly be down for pretending to be my lady for an indefinite amount of time, but it would take time to weed through the contenders. I wasn’t interested in rushing into this situation with just anybody. “Let me think about it.”

  “Don’t think too long, Maddox. I would like to see you have things in place in time for Jennifer Zuriela’s charity event.”

  “This Friday?” I asked.

  “It would be great if this young lady was your date to that. We need to get a lot of mileage out of this before you head into training camp. Then we’ll pick back up again when you get out.”

  “Basically, you need to have somebody by tomorrow, at the latest.” True eyed me. “That’s not a lot of time if we have to - provide somebody.”

  I chuckled at her choice of words. “You mean make some kind of ‘mutually beneficial’ arrangement, True? Yeah. Nah, I can’t give you a name or anything at the moment, but I would prefer not to have to use a ‘professional’.”

  “Why you gotta say it like that? I’m not gonna hire you no prostitute.”

  “I know.�
�� I assured her. “Because we won’t be hiring anybody. I have friends. I can make this happen.”

  “Well, in the interim, can you have Brandon contact me?” Sydnie asked. “We’ll need to draw up a contract, because regardless if this person is a friend or a professional, we need to make sure that she signs an NDA. We don’t need any surprises when she decides to write a tell-all book five years from now.”

  “Got ya.” I agreed easily.

  Later that evening, the doorbell rang at my grandmother’s house. I wasn’t expecting anybody, as True and Sydnie were long gone. My security guy, Heavy, was out south with his family during his time off, so I was alone in the spot. I normally didn’t have trouble when I was at home, but as of late, Chicago had been a little unpredictable, so I needed to be smart. I walked over to the window, and moved the drapes, so that I could see the front porch. Standing there, as petite and as fragile as ever, but holding a huge wooden tray that looked heavy as hell, was my grandmother’s 72-year-old former neighbor.

  I moved to the door quickly, swinging it, and the screen door open - taking the tray from Bonita Watson-Granville’s hands.

  “Why thank you, Busy. Always were such a gentleman.” She stated, following me into the house that had been her second home for all of the years she had been neighbors with my grandmother.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Bo. What brings you over here?” I took the tray into the kitchen, and set it down on the granite island that I’d had installed when I updated my grandmother’s kitchen several years earlier.

  “Well, I knew you were over here, and I figured you hadn’t eaten, so I brought you dinner.”

  As soon as she said that, I noticed the scents wafting from the tray I was just carrying.