What Happened to Andre?

“There are rose petals everywhere and I’m covered in baby oil.”

I could hear the stifled laughing of the lady at the front desk as she held the phone away from her mouth. If this had happened to anyone else, I would have joined her. This was a bizarre situation.

“I apologize Mr. McCall.” Would you like us to call 911? Do you believe you have been, uh, assaulted?”

I didn’t appreciate her sarcastic tone. I had considered calling the police the moment I regained consciousness, but I wasn’t sure how I could explain why I was at a Four Seasons hotel suite, half- naked, covered in baby-oil, standing on scattered rose petals and one hundred dollar bills.

“Mr. McCall? Sir?”

“Uh, no. Don’t call the cops.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Sorry for the call. I’m okay.”

“Okay, sir. Give us a call if you need anything else.”

After I hung up, my debilitating headache returned. I closed my eyes but it didn’t keep the room from spinning. After the mental merry-go-round had settled down, I attempted to recall what had happened before I passed out. Zilch, nada, no luck. As my vision began to clear up, I surveyed my unfamiliar environment.

Roses were scattered across the floor, along with more money than I had ever seen in my life. The headache intensified, this time making me nauseous.

The surge of vomit began climbing up my throat as I rushed to the bathroom, which was on the other side of the king-sized bed. Before my first hurl, I wondered if what I was about to spew would give me a clue as to what I did before my amnesia kicked in.

After the last heave, I checked the contents for clues. I found pieces of broccoli, red liquid, and partially digested meat. Perhaps it was chicken? Did I eat chicken Alfredo? If so, where at?

I backed away from the toilet as the puke smell creeped up my nose. I stole a look at myself in the mirror. There was always time for vanity. I observed my fresh taper haircut and muscles that were beginning to show definition. But, I needed to work my lower abs because of the prominent dad pudge. My bloodshot eyes accompanied by bags underneath ensured that I wasn’t winning any modeling contests soon.

The bathroom sink was clean and had what I assumed to be my toiletries on it. A tiny plastic bag lay next to the faucet. It was empty but there was residue of white powder inside.

“Jesus, did I sniff cocaine?” my voice croaked out.

I stumbled out toward the bed. I tried to clear my mind again by taking long, deep breaths. I was hoping that the moment of peace could jog up some memories. Wrong again. I opened my eyes and looked down at the money. Most of the bills were balled up. The trail of money balls led to the trash bin.

Shooting trash shots with one hundred dollar bills? Why? I looked to my left and noticed the closet door was open. Inside was an old supersonic, Shawn Kemp jersey, denim jeans, and white New Balances shoes. Wait, do I have kids? Yes, Two boys. Four and seven. Andre Jr. and Samson.

I then looked down and noticed a leather duffle bag on the floor. I unzipped it and found a little black book inside. There was only one name and one phone number on the same line: “HARLOT– 253-122-3344.” Harlot was definitely a code name-a weird one-but a code name for sure. But whose code name? The bag was the perfect size for holding all that money. My curiosity perked. I picked up the money and piled it on the bed. I was quite impressed with myself that I was able to count $20,000 by hand.

Where did all this money come from? Was it mine? It couldn’t be. I was afraid that I may have been involved in something terrible. “HARLOT– 253-122-3344.” Did I want to see how deep this rabbit hole went?

I grabbed the room phone and dialed the number. I felt a buzz vibration on the floor. The vibration got stronger as I approached a pile of damp bed sheets and towels next to the head of the bed. I shook the pile. A flip phone, the TV remote, and a half-empty bottle of baby-oil emerged.

One question had been answered. The number from the Four Seasons displayed on the phone’s screen. Am I the harlot? Why? I flipped the phone shut and sulked into the bed. The sickness and frustration created another headache. What the hell was going on? I had the bright idea that the TV could possibly help me out. When I turned it on, my senses were assaulted by the blaring sound of the sports channel.

“Welcome to Portland Sports Late night! Our hometown boys came up short in their overtime loss, but a special moment took place with one of our very own after the half-court shot challenge! We would like to congrat…”

Ugh! I hated the sound of his voice. The flip phone was still in my hand. Time to investigate. I clicked on Contacts. Empty. I clicked on Recent Calls, and only two phone numbers appeared. 425-333-3456 and 510-090-2345. The 510 number was called the most. I clicked on the messages.

Jackpot.

510 – “ENJOY THIS MOMENT. IT IS ABOUT TIME!” - 12:15 pm

253 – “WILL DO. I DESERVE THIS. I HOPE I CAN DO THIS.” 12:18 pm

510 – “YES YOU CAN. I BLESSED YOU WITH SOMETHING. JUST ENJOY THE VIBES ONCE IT HITS!” 12:18 pm

253 –“WISH ME LUCK.” 12:45 pm

510 – “GAME TIME!” 1:30 pm

510 – “HOLY SHIT! YOU LUCKY BASTARD!” 3:47 pm

425 – “WILL YOU BE AT THE F.S.?” 4:13 pm

253 – “YES. I AM READY, EXECUTIVE.” 4:13 pm

510 – “ANDRE, I FUCKED UP.” 4:26 pm

425 – “SAME ROOM?” 4:31 pm

253 – “YES” 4:32 pm

425 – “YOU OWE ME.” 4:33 pm

510 – “ANDRE, DID YOU TAKE THAT STUFF I GAVE YOU?’” 4:43 pm

253 – “A WHILE AGO, WHY? 4:52 pm

510 – “SHIT, I GAVE YOU THE WRONG ONE.” 4:53 pm

253 – “WHAT WAS THAT?” 4:55 pm

253 – WHAT THE HELL DID YOU GIVE ME, CLEARY?” 5:00 pm

510 – “STAY IN YOUR ROOM TONIGHT.” 5:01 pm

510 – “ANDRE?” 5:07 pm

510 – “HEY ANDRE?” 5:11 pm

510 – “I AM DRIVING DOWN THERE NOW. CALL ME ASAP.” 6:02 pm

425 – “HARLOT, I WILL COLLECT MY DEBT TONIGHT!” 6:11 pm

Okay, I’m scared now.

My mind fog was slowly clearing up. My dunce of a brother, Cleary, had connected me with a buddy who had gotten me front row tickets for the Blazers game tonight. Cleary had given me something that would help me relax for tonight, but he made a mistake, and now he is coming to check on me. I tried to concentrate to see if there was anything else I was forgetting. Nope.

I decided to call Cleary. He could make sense of all this. Busy tone? Really? Suddenly, the hotel phone rang. Maybe it’s a wellness check because of what happened earlier. A man with a southern twang was on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mr. McCall. This is Jake at the front desk. I am taking over for Sharon.”

“Oh-okay. Hi Jake.”

“Hello, sir. As requested, we want to inform you that your guest has arrived.”

“My guest?”

“Uh, yes, sir. The guest that you said was coming by around this time?”

“Hey Jake, what did sha…”

The buzz and unlocking sound of the front door shut me up. My heart began to race as I stood there, ready to face whoever this would be. When the door opened...

“Rachel?”

“Andre? Are you okay?”

Rachel, my girlfriend of 10 years, walked in carrying a plastic bag from CVS. Despite her Mac makeup, she was dressed down, wearing an all-black sweat suit and her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“Rach, I don’t feel too good.”

“I know, Cleary fessed up that he gave you rohypnol instead of valium.”

“Rohypnol? Valium? He gave me a roofie? Why the hell did he give me that?”

Rachel gave me a peculiar look as she pulled out water bottles and a sprite can from the bag.

“He said you were feeling anxious about today. Andre, you don’t remember what happened, do you? Yeah, we’re going to the hospital.”

Rachel handed me a water bottle as she hurried to the closet. She grabbed my clothes and sat next to me. I guzzled down the bottle like I hadn’t tasted water in years.

“What am I supposed to remember?”

Rachel looked at the bag filled with money, and reached in.

“Why are these wet?”

“I have no idea.” I answered while gulping down another bottle.

“Okay; get dressed.”

Rachel being here gave me a sense of peace. But she’s always been that way. She had this gift of making everything better in my life.

“You came down to surprise me at the arena tonight. You surprised me with something else too…”

She flashed an expensive-looking ring on her ring finger.

“I proposed today?”

Rachel looked sad. She grabbed the remote to turn the TV on. The noise wasn’t as deafening as last time. This time, the screen showed me holding Rachel’s hand saying something to her, my eyes welling up with tears. Rachel looked gorgeous with her black pencil skirt and red, long-sleeved blouse. I was always amazed how she was able to walk in stilettos on a basketball court. The crowd was elated when she nodded yes. I stood up and embraced her as we kissed. I felt butterflies watching it for the first time.

The annoying reporter came back on screen. “Rachel Williams, our basketball analyst, is on the road to her happily ever after.”

Rachel turned it off. I felt terrible. I didn’t remember that moment. Rachel sensed my disappointment and comforted me with a smile. Then she cocked her head with a smirk.

“Andre, why are you glistening?”

“Baby oil, baby.”

Rachel picked up some rose petals and the empty oil bottle.

“These were meant for me, I assume?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the silliness of this situation.

“Andre, go wash up.”

There was no argument from me. The hot water hitting my body felt like pure bliss.

“Rachel, can you call Cleary’s dumb ass and tell him that I’m okay?”

Rachel nodded. The shower drowned out most of their conversation, but I did catch, “You dumb ass” a couple times. Rachel walked in the bathroom with the bag of money and the Sprite can.

I couldn’t help but feel remorseful. “I am sorry for all this.”

Rachel smiled as she handed me the Sprite. “Don’t worry. This secret goes to the grave. How are you feeling now?”

“Half-way normal.”

“I will Google the nearest ER.”

“What will our story be? Basketball analyst, Rachel Williams’s fiancé’ gave himself the date rape drug?”

Rachel smirked and motioned to the money bag. “After Andre McCall hit the $20,000 half court shot, he celebrated at a bar and ended up grabbing the wrong cup. See? I told you that the media spin could be used for good.”

“Sounds good.”

Rachel handed me a towel as I stepped out. She rubbed my back as I finished getting dressed.

“You ready?” she asked.

I nodded. As we were leaving, Rachel grabbed the money and said, “We will finish our round of ‘The Executive and the Harlot’ later; you still owe me.”

“Owe you what?” I teased.

“Dick.”

I laughed and leaned over to kiss my best girl.

“I won’t forget, Executive. I promise.”