Read an Excerpt
These Are My Confessions
"Once again Glen Goodman has delivered the goods. Like a quiet storm, Goodman came in and stole a pass from an unsuspecting Dexter Jackson, then tiptoed down the sidelines to get loose for a slam dunk," the game's commentator roared. The sound of the crowd put your mind in the state of being at the circus, watching the trapeze artists at work, and watching the greatest show on earth. But instead of being at a Barnum and Bailey production, you were center court for the NBA playoff game between the Chicago Titans and Atlanta Phantoms, with Glen Goodman dominating the scene.
"That's right, baby, work that ball," Sasha screamed, twisting her ample chest to the beat of the team's anthem. All eyes zoomed in on the Beyonce clone because not only did her low-rise skintight jeans and midriff top leave little to the imagination, it was a well known fact that she was Glen's significant other. Sasha had sat in the same courtside seat at every Phantom home game since moving to Atlanta a year ago. Once you got over the pretty face, ten pounds of blond highlighted weave, and the to-die-for body, which included a perfected pair of 34D salines, nobody understood what Glen saw in her. Sasha put the S in superficial, with her fake hair, boobs, phony attitude, and, if the rumors were correct, had been an industry groupie before she landed the most sought after bachelor in the NBA.
She blew Glen a kiss as their eyes briefly connected as the crowd stood up and cheered following Glen's slam dunk, the winning shot to seal the deal for the playoff win. Now, only the championship battle was left, andSasha hoped that not only would her man win the NBA title, but that she in turn would capture the brass ring.
"Girl, let's go," she said to her friend Tracy, who was the girlfriend of one of Glen's teammates. "I want to be right there when Glen exits the locker room. You know all those damn hoochies are going to be swarming him."
"You know it. You better go let those tricks know it's all about you."
"Yeah, that's why I flashed these." Sasha pointed to her bountiful breasts. "To let everybody up in this stadium know what's up." The two ladies clicked their four inch heels on the polished floor as they walked toward the hallway outside the locker room. Some news cameras were waiting for the players to come out, but all hoped to get one of superstar Glen Goodman's classic lines to run with on the eleven o'clock news, ESPN, and tomorrow's newspaper.
"Here he comes now!" one of the reporters yelled.
Glen came out looking like the suave, confident superstar that he was. He paused for a moment and flashed his signature smile, which could brighten even the darkest tunnels.
"Glen, how does it feel to not only hit the winning shot but to score an amazing game high of eighty-five points? You've now beaten Kobe Bryant's record, and are only second to Wilt Chamberlain," the same reporter said.
"Honestly, it's not about the high score it's about my team winning," Glen replied. "I went into overdrive because the Phantoms were lethargic. I had to step it up. I don't believe in losing, especially when I'm on the court," he added in his usual overconfident way.
"Your team—so now the Atlanta Phantoms is your team?" one reporter said sarcastically.
Without missing a beat, Glen countered, "I'm the captain, so yes, it's my team. The players turn to me for leadership, and like the mailman, I always deliver, even on holidays." Then he winked and smiled to his many admirers.
"Okay, no more questions. Mr. Goodman has to go," Glen's personal assistant, Bianca, interceded. Although she'd only been working with Glen for a few weeks, she knew that his arrogance would soon be the centerpiece of every comment he made. No matter how irritating Glen Goodman could be, nobody could deny that he had it all—charisma, talent, and skills that superseded the basketball court. He was definitely a triple threat.
"Glen's new assistant kills me," Sasha snapped as Bianca hurried him away from the thirsty reporters. "She always tries to run everything. You would think she was his agent instead of a lowly assistant. I get so tired of her holding his hand like he's in second grade and she's schoolteacher."
"I feel you," Tracy said. "I'm glad Isaac doesn't have one of those. How did she get that job anyway? I thought he had some older lady as his assistant."
"He did—Ms. Pearl—but the old goose checked out," Sasha said, smacking her lips.
"What? She died? How?"
"Nah, she's not dead. Ms. Pearl had been Glen's father's assistant when he played in the league up until he retired. Then when Glen started playing, she became his assistant. She is damn near sixty years old and had no business being in the hustle and bustle of an on-the-go player like Glen. All those long hours finally got the best of her and she had to take it down. Her niece was a recent college graduate, and I guess couldn't find no job even with her little degree, so Ms. Pearl let her take over the position. It's only supposed to be temporary, but the bitch doesn't seem to be going anywhere."
"That's a trip. You don't mind Glen spending so much time with her?"
"I can't front, it does annoy me. But luckily, she isn't Glen's speed. He's not into those conservative librarian types. He likes sexy divas like myself, so whatever to her."
"Yeah, I feel you," Tracy said, then moved away, to give Sasha some privacy as Bianca led Glen in her direction. Tracy sat on a bench in the corner, watching from the sideline.
A gaggle of cute girls waved at him as he crossed their paths, and Sasha quickly walked forward to claim her property.These Are My Confessions. Copyright © by Joy King. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.