Free Single Husbands by HoneyB

he arrived at the arena.
    Picking up the envelope, Brian nervously exhaled. “Best I find out what ole girl is up to.” He peeled away the tab. He eased
     his hand inside, then removed a few sheets of paper printed from Wikipedia.com . One sheet documented his early life, the other his playing career, coaching career, and personal life. Last, there was a
     4 x 6 photo on 8 ½ by 11 paper of him shaking hands with Marcus. Did Marcus know Zahra?
    Placing the papers back inside the envelope, Brian rubbed his head, then ground his back teeth as he entered the arena. He
     was glad Zahra didn’t have his phone number. Backtracking, he tried to recall any peculiar behavior. They’d met at Starbucks,
     walked over to Grand Lux, walked to the mall, crossed the street, went to Walgreens for Magnums, crossed the street to the
     hotel, spent the night, and woke up. She’d reentered the room as he opened the bathroom door. “That’s it,” he said, sliding
     the papers from the envelope. Brian’s lips tightened as he read the date and time on each page. She’d printed the papers that
     morning. But how did she know his real name?
    His thoughts of Zahra faded to screaming fans that gradually quieted under the dimming lights. Silence proceeded as
“O say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light”
resonated from the basketball court to the ceiling of the arena.
“O’er the land of the free”
echoed simultaneously with piercing screams from anxious fans that vibrated in his ears.
    Free? Not really,
Brian thought, watching Marcus bounce on his toes. Waving his fist high above his head, Marcus Monty was ready for the game
     that Brian hoped would make Marcus the number-one draft pick and him the top sports agent in the country.
    “Oh, shit!” Brian said, turning to acknowledge the tap on his shoulder. He relaxed when he heard, “What’s up, man? I didn’t
     mean to startle you. You all right?”
    Exhaling, Brian said to his number-one competitor and longtime friend, Brandon, “Well, I’ll be damned. Man, where’ve you been?”
    “Trying to stay two steps ahead of you, man. That’s why I’m here. ’Cause I knew your ass would be here trying to sign Marcus.
     How’s Michelle?” he asked.
    “She’s good. The kids are good. And how’s your wife and kids?” Brian asked.
    “Divorced, man. Said she couldn’t take me being gone all the time. Claimed she was a married woman living the life of a single
     mom and checked this shit out. Can you believe she called me a single husband? What the fuck is that, some new feminist terminology?
     Anyway, she’s with some other man now and I hope he makes her happy, since I apparently screwed up the best years of her life,”
     Brandon said, biting his bottom lip.
    Brian watched his friend’s lip quiver, moving Brandon to tears that he refused to let fall. Damn, that was fucked-up! Watching
     a grown man cry over a woman. That shit would never happen to him.
    “The problem was, she didn’t have a life of her own, man. That’s not your fault. You had to do what you had to do to support
     your family. These women start out wanting a rich man, with lots of money. Then when you marry them, they want you to stay
     home. How the fuck you supposed to make paper sitting on your ass all the time? I’m glad Michelle travels too. Would your
     wife, I mean ex-wife, rather you be at home all the time and struggling financially, or on the road providing a grand lifestyle
     for her and the kids?”
    “She’s fucking gone, man. She left me. I think that answers your questions,” Brandon said angrily.
    “Whoa, I didn’t divorce you. You still my nigga. Let me buy you a drink after the game,” Brian offered, since he didn’t have
     a fuck buddy to cuddle up with for the night. Tripping off the mysterious Zahra, Brian had his own issues. Zahra never said
     who paid her. Shit, he could use a drink just as much as—if not more than—Brandon.
    “Sure thing. Spencer’s steak house inside