My Tiger Bell

An ordinary Monday night had me exiting the Training Table around 9:30 pm. I stayed late at study hall preparing for a Research Marketing Exam I had on Friday. Mama, the head cook, left it open a little late for us stragglers. I’m all alone, which is rare. I hurry to make a couple of roast beef sandwiches, grab a handful of cookies that I stuff in my bookbag.

The Training Table is available to football and basketball players for snacks and sandwiches after Study Hall. I walk out to the cool night air listening to my Walkman; I spy a familiar figure sitting on one of the picnic tables used for outside dining. It’s Stephanie.

I take my headphones down and press Stop. Steph is wearing a white Clemson hoodie with Clemson across the chest, dark blue Levi jeans with a big cuff at the foot, and a pair of white high-top sneakers. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and big hoop J-lo like earrings. At first blush I think she is a beautiful mirage I’m imagining in the middle of a dark, desolate Clemson evening.

This beautiful fantasy becomes my reality. She speaks. Hi Kincaid. Hey darlin, what are you doing out here all alone? I ask. Waitin on you, she replies. Really. I’m totally surprised. Her man never lets her wander around alone, especially with big game hunters prowling. I’ve been secretly pursuing this elusive unicorn since freshman year, but I digress.

I give her a hug; she squeezes tighter and longer than usual. Is everything Ok? I ask. She has tears in her eyes. What’s up with you girlfriend, she finally responds. Do you have weed? She asks. Is the night dark? I reply. Can we chill, smoke and talk? Of course, but where is your man? I ask. Probably with the Ho I caught him with at his apartment.

I remembered your invitation while at the Kappa Sweetheart Dance, so I tracked you down, the prey tracking down the hunter: What a reversal of fortune, I’m so sorry, you know you can always hang out with your boy, but we have a curfew at 11:00 pm. You can just hide in the shower stall for 5 minutes until the assistants leave. That’s cool, Bae. I just need a friend. She says. I got you. I’ve loved you since the first day we met while registering for classes. You were the most beautiful babe on campus and nothing has changed.

I extend my hand, and she takes it as we hold hands, walking back to the apartment. That’s sweet of you to say, thanks for being a friend. Looking at Steph with no make-up, heart broken, she looked like the wide eyed Bambi when we were freshmen getting lost together, trying to find our Accounting 101 class.

We make it to the apartment, it’s eerily quiet as I drop my bookbag on the couch, take out the sandwiches, put them in the fridge, bring out the cookies and post up at the bar with Step, we share the cookies. Hey sweetness are you trying to get my cookies, she laughs, if they’re as good as these Black and Whites then maybe.

I inexplicitly checked the time, it’s 9:55 pm OMG I’ve got to park the Buick let’s go, I start out the door; I tell Steph, come on slowpoke; she follows me. I’m showing off jogging backwards watching her as she attempts to catch up: she’s running, those full double D’s bouncing beautifully with no bra, all these years chasing you, now you’re chasing me. I say.

No sooner than I complete my sentence, I slip and hit the pavement. Steph looks horrified. Kincaid, my God are you OK, she leans down to check on me. I grab her, bringing her to the ground on top of me. She screams. I tickle her; she is laughing hysterically. Our faces are inches apart then we have moment. She punches my chest, pulls herself up, and helps me up. If I hurt you on my watch, the Bells would kill me.

Steph, Head of the Kappa Sweethearts and Tiger Bell extraordinaire. Tiger Bell are hostesses primarily for football and basketball teams, their primary role includes showing new recruits around campus when they come for official visits, as well as providing inspirational cards, balloons, chocolates and other treats for their designated player on game day, they are the beautiful faces of Clemson revenue generating sports.

I try to play it off; I was only trying to get close to you. Dummy, you don’t have to scare me half to death to do so. She replies. The only thing that’s hurt is my pride, but I don’t reveal that embarrassing tidbit to my Tiger Bell.

We make it to my Buick as I motion Steph to the ashtray. Half a joint is there. Steph takes the dobie, pushes in the lighter. Go ahead, Boo, take it all to the head I’m waiting till after curfew. I say. Are you sure, Bae? She asks. Yes, your sexiness, I don’t feel very sexy tonight. I want to give her a line but refrain. I’m going to play the friend role until she changes the narrative.

We park, her demeanor has changed. Weed, the best drug on God’s green earth, has that effect. I hold out my hand for her to take, I love holding a woman’s hand while taking a walk, it’s a way of getting close; if she freely takes your hand, usually giving you her flower isn’t far behind.

As we’re walking back the Tiger Bell speaks. Do you remember our freshman year when you, me and one of my friends walked back from Littlejohn together? Yes. We had an intra-squad scrimmage; I went off and scored 28 points, we had so much fun.

Steph, you were so different and innocent but breathtaking nonetheless. I can say the same about you, Big Boy, you were so so sexy I remember thinking, damn what pretty legs and such a cute ass. She laughs at herself. Guys aren’t the only ones checking out the merchandise. She says. Baby, I give her a pout. I feel like a piece of meat. Yea, a fine sexy ass piece of yummy man meat. Now you tell me. I respond.

Do you remember what happened when we got back to the apartment? She says. No, not really. We’re all sitting drinking pop and the phone kept ringing. You wondered how they got your number since it was unlisted after the fourth call you said it’s amazing how before the scrimmage they didn’t know me now all these Hoes want me.

She continues. I thought I’m no Ho, I want you. But you never made a move. She says.You were my friend. I reply. Steph, I wanted you the first time I saw you. You had me at Hi Kincaid, but I had to play it cool. I did not want to scare you away. I say. OMG Kincaid You’re not scary, nothing you could have done would have ever scared me away.

I understand, but just as I’m getting the nerve to tell you how I feel. I knew you would be at the first KAPPA jam, I walked in cooler than the other side of the pillow. Looking for My Jersey Girl and you’re all cuddled up with asshole. I mean Mikey. Kincaid, he hates when you call him that, it’s Michael. I don’t like or trust him. How many years is that nigga gonna be here? Is he on a 6-year plan? I ask. Kind of, he’s in Grad School. She says.

Whatever, I reply. By the way, stop calling me Kincaid, it sounds so formal I’m TK. I say. You sound a little agitated. I’m sorry Boo, I still thought you were my dawg, but each time I tried to reach out to study or just hang out as buddies either he queered the deal or you cancelled.

I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to him about our friendship, but he’s very jealous. Kincaid I mean TK, do you think our lives would have been different if you and I got together as freshmen. Of course beautiful we would be Mr. & Mrs. Clemson Tiger; the Baller and the Babe. Steph giggles. The thing I’ve always loved about you was your sense of humor. You always keep me smiling. She says.

Tonight let’s do what we should have done 3 years ago; I pull her close, she places her arms around my neck, I look into those Carmel colored eyes, take her chin with my right hand and kiss her. There’s something about delayed gratification, the touch so much softer, the taste of her kisses so much sweeter.

Steph’s the sexiest babe on campus: black, white or otherwise we release our lips. Tonight we are freshmen walking back from Littlejohn. She says. We’ve made it back to the apartment, you now know how much I want you. Steph continues. No calls, no boyfriends or girlfriends, just you and me, just the two of us. Steph says. An ordinary Monday night in Tigertown is slowly becoming extraordinary. My Tiger Bell.