If you could only lose 20 pounds, you'd be bangin' baby! You could put a diaper on my ass and I’d call you Mama.

A guy on a dating website had told me that a few years back.

At that point, it became apparent why dating was so hard, and why idiots like that ended up dateless on dating websites. It still ceased to amaze me the number of perverts trolling the earth.

It had always been difficult for me to put myself out there, either for fear that I’d encounter a chubby chaser or that someone was playing a cruel joke. Therefore, I was never a serial dater or even a huge social butterfly while in school, but I knew how to make myself known when the occasion arose.

I was a big, beautiful black woman, but that didn't mean I’d let you eat a turkey leg off my thigh or imagine your private part was a banana and mine for the taking. I also wasn’t the kind of girl to pretend like I wasn’t big-boned and try to stuff myself into a size too small for my ass. I embraced my curves and knew that my backside was wide and my chest was large.

Here I am world, Tayla Maxwell. At twenty-eight, I was a proud college graduate of the Art Institute of Ohio, ready to jump full force into the culinary world. In the future, I hoped to start my own restaurant but without any money to my name or the know-how to even begin, life as an entrepreneur seemed farfetched.

Three years in Ohio was enough for me. I was sick of the cold weather, the weird jargon like ‘pop’ and the continual reference to the Cincinnati Bengals, “Who Dey.”

Yeah, who are they?

It was time for me to head back to Tennessee and start life anew. I was happy I had gotten out and seen, at least, some of the world but with my mother's health issues and my trifflin’ little sister, it was time to head home.

I stepped off the jet way and began jogging straight for the baggage claim where I knew my mama was waiting.

“Mommy!”

No matter how old I got, I would always revert back to that little girl who idolized the greatest woman she had ever known, Daphne Maxwell.

I spotted her immediately and full out ran in her direction. The biggest smile spread across her face when she heard me and this made me want to get to her that much faster.

“My baby, my baby!” My mama squealed and met me with open arms.

I reveled in the warmth her embrace provided me and wished to be engulfed in her love for the rest of my life.

She kissed my cheeks but held my face when we pulled away. “You look so good, baby girl.”

I laughed softly and blushed. No one else could make such a simple phrase seem like the most beautiful words in the English language.

“You look OK.”

I rolled my eyes and went to stand in front of my sister.

She was as much a child at twenty-three as ever, though her appearance was all woman. She was beautiful, but I'd never tell her. We both had the same almond shaped eyes as our mother, and the same dark irises as well. She had what we called "good hair." Its wavy texture could be worn down and wild or up and messy and still remain presentable. She was stubborn and hardheaded just like me, which was probably one reason why we always bumped heads.

“Well hey, Maya, still mooching I see.” I threw her a venomous smile.

“Alright you two, knock it off.”

Mama gave us that stern look that spoke volumes and we instantly shut up. When she got the desired response from the both of us, she was back to her sugary sweet self.

“Let's go get your bags, baby girl.” She said as she loop our arms together and lead me toward the baggage claim.

Life was great.

****

Suspended.

I had never heard such a dirty word in all my twenty-seven years. I was...I am this damn team! He couldn’t suspend me without a damn good reason.

“Be honest, James. How long did it take you to realize your new girlfriend was underage?”

I rolled my eyes at my lawyer’s asinine question.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumbled as I walked out of Coach Mike Brown’s office, pulling my flat-billed hat lower to shield my eyes. Flashing cameras were the last things I wanted to see, along with reporters or the dozens of fans pushing pieces of paper in my chest for me to sign.

How was I supposed to know that chick was seventeen? It’s not like I was checking for I.D., and thank God she had passed out before I’d done anything to her.

I’m an asshole, not a rapist.

She looked to be about twenty-five with all that makeup caked on her face and the barely-there top she was sporting to expose her firm breasts didn’t help matters. What kind of parents let their kid out of the house looking like that to watch a basketball game anyway? I tell you who should be suspended, that girl’s parents.

I made my way out of the arena where a shiny black Range Rover was waiting for me. I didn’t bother to wait for my entourage, as I made myself comfortable in the third row leather seating. When we the car pulled away, I let out a sigh of relief and let my head drop against the tinted window.

“Can y’all believe Coach suspended me like that?” I asked the two other patrons in front of me, assured that they’d have my back.

“Not really.” Rochelle Galena started. She was my publicist and the closest thing I had to a sister. “You’re lucky he didn’t drop you like a hot potato. I would have.”

Not amused by her assertion, I rolled my eyes. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t wield any sort of power.”

She gave me a lengthy glare that told me I better zip it before she found some power to wield.

Chelle always looked so prim and proper with her long dark hair piled atop her head in a neat bun. Her suit always fit like a glove and accented her curvaceous figure, one that came from a pure Puerto Rican bloodline. If I hadn’t known her since before my adolescence, I probably would have been all over that. Luckily, I’d had my balls in her vice many a time over the years to know that fantasy would never come to fruition.

I made it a point to thank God hourly for protecting my reproductive system.

 Besides, I knew my brother had a soft spot for Chelle, but he would never admit it to anyone, including himself.

Her hazel eyes, though soft and demure, could ignite with fire at the drop of a hat. I didn’t dare cross her, as much as I loved pushing her buttons.

“I wouldn’t challenge her,” my brother and crack legal team, John, said idly as he tinkered around on his BlackBerry.

He didn’t give me so much as a glance; I assumed because he was pretty used to having to clean up my messes, having been on retainer for the past couple years.

Most people mistook us for twins, both with our dirty blond hair, strong jaw lines, deep green eyes and slender noses. The only distinctions between us were our builds, and my scruffy attire versus the suit and tie, for which Johnny had been made.

“I’m not challenging,” I retorted. “I’m just making a statement about her lack of power.” I shrugged and pulled my own phone from my pocket, pretending not to notice the death glare directed at me.

I knew full well that I’d thrown down the gauntlet.

Johnny glanced briefly at his counterpart, aware that now was a good time to step in before Rochelle resorted to violence.

“It would be wise not to test her right now, my dear brother.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” my voice was gruff, and rightfully so. I didn’t ask either of them to interject or make themselves known. All I wanted was to get back to my place, and hold up in my house until Coach Brown came to his senses.

The leather creaked under him, as he adjusted himself to face me. “Cut the shit, James.”

The expletive from Johnny’s mouth had my eyes snapping up. He rarely ever cursed, unless he was on the verge of losing the control he had honed after years of having dealt with my antics.

“You pretty much crapped all over your career, now it’s our job to make sure you don’t finger paint in it. Just shut up, and listen.”

I sat silently, waiting to hear what Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It had in mind. Whatever, it was, no matter how thought out, I was prepared to negate.

“Let’s hear it.” I folded my arms over my chest, sending out strong non-verbal cues that I wasn’t going to be so easily compliant.

“I think you should go back to Memphis for a while,” she said, turning to look over her shoulder.

“What!” I sat up, as if doused with cold water. “Nope. I’m not going to do that. No way!”

The fire in Rochelle’s eyes had been reduced to cool indifference at my protests.

“Beverly already knows you’re on your way.”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me! You already made this decision without even asking me what I thought about it?”

She titled her head inquisitively. “Do you really think you’re in a position to be making sound decisions on your own?”

“Did you know about this?” I pointed an accusing finger at my brother.

“Who do you think called her?”

“Both of you are fired!” I shouted, but it had no bearing on the plan that had already been set into motion for me.

Ignoring my tantrum, Rochelle turned to Johnny. “How many times have we been fired, John?”

“Hmm, in the last month? I think five or six times.”

“We should probably file for unemployment.”

I was seething as they continued to mock me and my miserable situation. I had the sudden murderous urge to open the passenger side door and shove them both out onto the highway while the vehicle was still in motion.

The rest of the car ride to the airport I sat silently, resided to my fate. I didn’t relish the idea of being shipped off to Bumfuck, USA, but a chance to see family was always nice. If anything, it would get me away from the two worst people in the entire world.

As we neared the terminal, my resolve began to crumble. I was beginning to realize that I was kidding myself, thinking about the kind of welcome I would receive in Tennessee. Beverly Denson was no joke, and if memory and years of ass whoopings had taught me anything, it was that my mama had been waiting for the chance to tear me a new one since news had broken about my indiscretion. I was sure she would be on the tarmac with a weapon in hand, waiting for the opportunity to prove she could still knock me down a peg.

My butt began to throb just thinking about the reunion my hide and her switch would soon have.

Life couldn’t get any worse.