Page 3 of Platinum Pressure

“Platinum! Platinum! Platinum!” The crowd chanted my name as I hobbled up with the help of Eddie, two team medics, and our quarterback, Larell.

Larell “Lay Low” Yates was a stand-up guy and one of my closest friends.

“You gon’ be alright, P. Keep yo’ head up, dawg. Don’t let them niggas see you cry.” Lay Low’s voice was calm and reassuring, despite the fear in his eyes.

I appreciated all the support. As they placed me on the back of the med cart, I looked out to see both teams taking a knee in my honor as the fans chanted my name.

It was a bittersweet feeling as I rode to the locker room with no clue where the future of my football career would go after this.

God, please don’t let this be it for me.

“Now, Miss Nette . . .”

“What, child?”

“Why are you playing with these exercises?” I asked with a chuckle. I set my iPad on the dining room table and placed a hand on my hip.

As a private nurse and physical therapist, I had many clients who liked to cut corners and half-ass their exercises. Unfortunately for them, I didn’t play those games. Every client who had the pleasure of being in my care got nothing but the best treatment possible. I curated personalized exercises and regimens for each of them. Some clients got with the program fast, while others, like Miss Nette, enjoyed giving me a hard time.

“I’m lifting these damn weights, ain’t I?” the feisty seventy-year-old woman asked. Miss Nette was a firecracker from the day I met her. I knew when I saw the tattoos and blowout curls, she was going to make me work hard.

One thing I loved about her was she could take the same sass she dished out. I talked to her like she was a badass high schooler instead of a woman nearly three times my age.

“Your form isn’t good, and you know it. You want me to go home, or you want to do the exercises like your doctor told you to?” I asked back.

Miss Nette grumbled under her breath but lifted the five-pound weights straight out with the right form we practiced. Her arms wobbled slightly, but she inhaled and exhaled to regain momentum.

“See, you know you were playing the first time. Thank you for fixing your form. Give me five more. Then we can move on to the next exercise.”

She pulled the weights back to her chest and pushed them straight out again five more times. She set the weights on the floor and sat back in her chair to catch her breath. She took a sip of her water and huffed.

“There you go. Get you a good rest for a couple minutes before we move on to legs.” I picked up the iPad and made a note of the arm exercise in her folder.

Many people were always curious about why I got credentials in two separate career paths, but I felt like these two things, nursing and physical therapy, worked hand in hand and made me a better aide because of it. I took pride in knowing I could care for my patients thoroughly.

“You better not be talking shit about me in your little doohickey, either.”

“Never that. If you must know, I marked you one-hundred percent success on the exercise.”

“Good. Mark the same thing on the next one too.”

“We don’t cut corners around here, ma’am. You know that.”

“You know what I know? I know you make me sick. How many more of these damn exercises do I have to do?”

I laughed. “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

“I am. That’s why I want you to meet my son. He’s about your age.”

“Your son? The one I met the first day of your therapy session? I thought he was older than twenty-six.” I raised a curious brow.

Miss Nette giggled to herself like she told the funniest joke. “You’re only twenty-six? Baby, yeah, he has two sons around your age, actually. Matter of fact, let me call him on the video chat. See if he can get them to come on over here and⁠—”

“Miss Nette!”

“What?” She reached for her phone.

“Don’t go on any side quests right now. We need to get through these exercises. You’re trying to play matchmaker when you need to be locking in on these workouts.”