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The roar of the packed stadium shook the tunnel walls as the team neared the entrance.

I bounced on my toes, allowing my neck to stretch from side to side.

Rolling my shoulders back and forth, I released slow breaths as I felt each of my muscles relax.

We were going home with the win tonight. I could feel it.

“Give a round of applause for your Solaire Suns,” the announcer’s deep voice rumbled, sending the crowd into a frenzy. I clapped my hands in time with my racing heart before jogging out with the team.

The darkness of the tunnel disappeared in an instant.

Suddenly, I could smell the hotdogs, popcorn, and boiled peanuts being sold inside the arena.

Fans hung over the side rails, trying to get as close as they could without falling over the sides.

They would do anything to get close to one of us, and it was comical.

I would never be so pressed, but at the same time, I was me.

As I was nearing the floor, a bad little mocha shawty appeared.

“Good luck, Mr. Most Likely to Win,” she cooed before she flashed me her perfect titties.

I whistled approvingly, offering her a simple wink without breaking my stride. Chuckling softly, I shook my head to rid myself of her juicy mounds. I loved me some chocolate drop nipples. She knew what she was doing, but it was game time, and nothing was going to distract me from that.

On the court, I joined my team as we began warmups.

I felt confident as the ball came to me, and I posted up for a jump shot until I saw my father just beyond the goal.

He was standing within the shadows with a woman leaning against the wall in front of him.

His massive diamond-studded chain was swinging in her face, begging for her to play with it, and she took the bait.

Something he said had tickled her enough to display her pretty smile.

I shook my head, trying to focus on my shot, but he gripped her chin just as I was about to release the ball.

The sound of my missed shot was resounding. I cursed then turned away.

“Get your head in the game, son,” my mother’s voice broke through my racing thoughts.

My eyes found her a second later as she sat courtside, looking as poised as ever.

Her brown skin glowed radiantly with youth despite being in her late forties.

By her classy appearance and innocent expression, you would never think her husband was a few feet away, publicly embarrassing her.

I gritted my teeth with a shake of my head.

A part of me wished they weren’t even here.

Every time they were around, they fucked up my aura.

Why couldn’t that nigga go sneak off and be trifling in private?

Smacking the side of my face, I tried to get back in my zone.

It was difficult, though. I knew there was no way my mother wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

She wasn’t a fool. She was far from one, actually.

I could bet every cent in my bank account that they’d be fighting about this in the hours to come.

Preferably, after the game was over. I was not in the mood to be in the gossip blogs tonight.

The internet loved talking about me and my toxic family.

I never saw the way she shouldered his disrespect and adultery as strength.

It looked like weakness and fear. Maybe a part of her felt like he was the best she could do.

Even though being the wife of a washed-up player came with zero fucking perks, she stuck by his side.

Now, her lavish lifestyle was on my dime, so maybe that’s what she won by sticking around.

I didn’t have any proof, but a part of me was convinced she was doing her own dirt in the dark.

If only that nigga could follow her example, everything would be perfect.

I could give a damn if they were together or not.

I released the fantasy of loving parents a long time ago.

Now, at twenty-seven, my only prayer was that they sat the fuck down and shut up.

Their every move was stalked because of his attempt at success and what I was able to do in my five-year career.

Making the headlines was guaranteed for even the simplest things, yet the bullshit never stopped.

I missed my third jumper in a row while warming up, and I could feel the pressure of Coach Atkins’ eyes from the sidelines. He knew something was off because I didn’t miss. Ever. After the fourth time, he walked over briskly.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded while trying to get rid of the cotton lodged in my throat and the image of my father from my mind.

“Yeah. I’m good. Just a little thirsty.”

He paused, studying me intensely. The lights from the stadium reflecting off his bald head made him look like Mr. Clean. I snickered to myself but straightened up when he frowned. This was not the time to goof off.

Turning toward the bench, he waved for a water boy to bring me something to drink.

A little Asian kid came racing over. I took the water bottle from him then tipped my head back.

Despite my effort, the water did nothing to quench my thirst. Maybe nothing would because it wasn’t physical.

My soul was missing something vital, and I had no clue where to find it.

“I’m good, Coach,” I assured him.

He remained cemented in place for a minute longer. “Okay. Get back out there.”

I returned to the warmup lineup, and for a minute there, I found my stride.

I sighed in relief. I was confident now.

Once the clock buzzed to indicate it was time to get started, I jogged to the bench.

I’d successfully erased the image of my father and his victim of the night from my mind.

The only thing that mattered was the game.

I closed my eyes and silenced the world for a second.

The image of a little me conjured itself in my mind.

I searched for his love for the game… When I located that well of joy, I used it to warm every vein in my body.

By the time I reopened my eyes, everything was sharper and more vibrant.

There was this tingling sensation on the tips of my fingers, and I could hear heaven.

That music was the reason I truly loved this game.

Walking to center court, I got in position for tip off.

A young baller out of Memphis approached on the opposite side.

We slapped hands before I squatted in position.

I ate rookies like this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He would be no different. A smirk covered my face a second before the referee blew his whistle.

In a quick motion, I hopped up and tipped the ball toward my team.

No lie, I dominated the first half of the game.

Every shot I took soared through the air, landing in the basket with perfect precision.

I loved the sound it made. I didn’t get the nickname King of the Court for no reason.

My shooting was on point, and it was the reason I’d secured a multimillion-dollar deal as the face of the Suns franchise.

I was the opponent you studied extra hard for flaws before you played me.

In the next three to four years, I would achieve MVP status…

if only I could separate myself from my toxic family drama.

With a few minutes until the end of the third quarter, I heard bickering over screeching sneakers, labored breaths, and the static of the jumbotrons.

I made the mistake of honing in on my mother’s voice.

I spun around in time to see her haul off and slap a bitch across the face.

Chaos erupted in the arena within seconds.

My mama and the girl were tussling while thousands of phones were recording. I raced over just as two men reached them to break up the fight. I didn’t like how rough the one who grabbed my mother was and refused to be quiet about it.

“Aye, you better watch where you puttin’ your funky ass hands.”

“Ain’t nothing about me funky, boy. You better watch your mouth.”

I looked him up and down with a sneer. “You sure about that? I can spot a couple things starting with that dingy red flag tied around your fat ass neck. I’m surprised you ain’t passed out yet in this bitch.

” I began imitating how hard he was breathing.

“Sounding like a member of The Fat Boys and shit. Looking like one, too, Pillsbury fuck boy.”

A symphony of laughter exploded around us. His puffy cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. A smirk painted his face as he straightened his posture.

“I don’t give a fuck about none of that when you’re the one supporting my fat ass lifestyle.”

His words froze me in place. “What the fuck you talking about, fat ass?”

“Oh, right. I forgot you still think you’re an only child.”

I chuckled. “Man, shut your fat ass up. You ain’t no kin to me. I don’t give a fuck who nut sack you came out of, and I promise your fat ass will look anorexic by the time they get me off you.”

I ain’t gon’ lie the nigga caught me off guard when he stole off on my ass. I snickered before I started working him. In little to no time, his fat ass was huffing and puffing sounding like a damn heart attack waiting to happen. It took about six people to get me off his weak ass.

“Bet you won’t say that bullshit again.”

I wrestled against whoever had my arms pinned behind my head. Thinking about his words and the smirk on his face was eating at my nerves.

“Get the fuck off me.”

No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t free myself.

“Calm down, son.”

Of course, Coach Atkins was the one to restrain me. A lecture would be waiting for me soon as I hit the locker room. He would never let this slide.

“To the locker room. You’re out for the night.”

Now, that caught my attention.

“Fuck,” I cursed, somehow becoming angrier and calmer at the same time.

I started walking toward the tunnels and couldn’t help but flip some chairs on the way out.

My heart was pounding so loudly it was the only thing I could hear.

I couldn’t stop the heat from spreading through my veins and knew the only relief I would find would come after I got far away from this place.

Marching into the locker room, I ignored any and everybody that tried to talk to me. I wasn’t trying to hear shit right now. I already knew my dad was a slimy ass nigga, but to know he’d created a whole other family somewhere else didn’t sit right with me.

After I packed my things, I headed for the garage but not before I was surrounded by flashing lights, microphones, and annoying ass questions.

“Man, if y’all don’t back the fuck up, I’ma air this bitch out.” I reached into my duffel ready to prove a point. Matter fact, I was itching for a reason to lay somebody out.

Everyone backed away, giving me a clear path to the exit.

The second my cherry-red G-Wagon came into view, I pressed the Autostart button on my key fob.

I opened the trunk and threw my duffel inside before shutting it.

Walking to the driver’s side, I unlocked the doors just as my best friend, Jah, burst through the double doors.

I chuckled with a shake of my head. The unlocked doors allowed him to slip into the passenger side. Once we were inside, I put it in reverse and whipped out of the spot. The ride was silent as I sped into traffic like a demon. Just like on the court, I dominated the road.

“Damn, this bitch so fucking fine.” Jah’s voice broke the silence, piquing my interest.

I was happy he didn’t bring up the shit show that’d just gone down in the arena.

“Let me see.”

He was quick to tilt his phone toward me.

He wasn’t lying. The sexiest influencer on the internet was posed up on his screen.

I smiled seeing her luscious chocolate complexion shining beneath her ring light.

She was wearing one of her signature sleek ponytails that lifted her face and highlighted those rusty eyes of hers.

Her perfect lips were painted red and were puckered like she was asking for a kiss.

“I’ma get that,” I affirmed with confidence. I’d been plotting on her ass for the longest. We were playing tag in the likes, stories, and comments, but one day I was going to strike like a viper. Once I sank my teeth in her, there would be no escape from me.

Jah chuckled. “Shit, maybe if you trickin’. She’ll proudly run a nigga’s pockets bone dry and move on to her next victim without pause.”

I beat my chest proudly. “’Cause she ain’t never fucked with a nigga like me before. My abundance flows like a never-ending river, and there is no moving on.” I smirked, rubbing my chin. “Besides, it ain’t trickin’ if you got it, and I got it.”

Jah nodded, knowing I was only speaking facts. “Man, if you bag that, I’ll drive you around for a week.”

I shook my head. “A year.”

I saw his head jerk out the corner of my eye. “What?”

“When I secure that, you’re going to be driving me around for a year.”

He chuckled. “Man, whatever.”

I knew he didn’t believe me, but I was confident I’d get what I wanted. Besides, our conversation was keeping me distracted from what took place at the game. The last thing I wanted to do was think about what was said. I wasn’t ready to face that truth.