Page 14

ONE

“Yeah, aight. I hear you. Have that same energy on the court or lose that Rollie on your wrist.”

DJ held his arm in the sky, allowing the diamonds on his wrist a bit of air time.

“This motherfucker here to stay. Might as well keep looking at that cracked ass phone screen for the time.”

Chuckling, I slammed my car door and rolled down the window.

“That cracked ass screen came from putting in work,” I reminded him.

The shattered glass was a result of a dominated scoreboard and lazy limbs shortly after. My phone slipped from my sweaty palm as I tried returning my sister’s call. The concrete kissed it and the rest was history.

“Nigga, I was tired that day.”

“Just don’t be tired tomorrow. We have a win to catch.”

“I’ll be asleep before the sun goes down.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Bet, De Bacco.”

Team meetings warranted change each time I exited the facility. While most hated them, I saw them all as opportunities for growth. I never left a meeting the same player I went into the meeting as.

My engine roared in the garage, joining the others as we raced for the door that was climbing at a snail’s pace. A band of motors created an unmastered, tasteless track that possibly only sounded good to those who possessed a Y chromosome.

Sunlight greeted me as the rubber of my wheels mingled with the pavement, burning from the friction their union caused. The streets of Clarke welcomed me back after suffocating in the conference room for three long hours with coaches, staff, and players.

It wasn’t music that I wanted to hear. Neither was it the sound of my sibling’s voice. The missed call would have to wait until I decompressed.

“Later Nadia,” I whispered, swiping my screen clean of the notification.

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt .

As my screen darkened, an incoming call relit it instantly. Instinctively, I lowered the volume of my stereo, quickly forgetting music wasn’t playing. Chuckling at my foolishness, I answered the incoming FaceTime call.

“Sac–”

The woman who’d been by my side since we were in diapers called out to me with saggy shoulders and lips that curled downward. Distress was written all over her beautiful face.

“What’s the matter?”

“My purse–” she complained, “I left it in your car after dinner last night. I’ve looked everywhere and don’t see it. It has to be with you.”

My eyes darted around my car. They landed on the floor where the strap of her pink purse was peeking from underneath the seat.

“My license is inside. My cards. My wallet. Everything. I’ve felt so lost this morning.”

Aliza Frison . The girl next door. My girl from next door. My damsel was distressed.

“Fix your face. It’ll be handled in a few. I have your things, baby.”

Like a ray of sunshine, she beamed.

“Oh God, you’re a lifesaver. Have I told you how shitty my life would be without you lately?”

Nodding, I admitted, “Not lately, but I’ve heard it enough times to know it, Aliza.”

“Well, I need to change that, because I feel like there isn’t a day that goes by and you’re not reminding me that if my head wasn’t screwed to my body I wouldn’t know where it was either.”

“Meet me on Swayer Lane, baby. I’m headed that way now. I’ll be parked in front of Haystack.”

“I’ll be there in–” she paused, “Maybe fifteen.”

“I’ll see you in thirty, love.”

Snickering, she responded, “You know me all too well, honey.”

“See you in a bit, Aliza.”

The smirk that pulled my mouth apart left a smile on her pretty face. She hadn’t made it out of the house in fifteen minutes in her entire life. Not even if she was given a head start, everything she needed, and a cash prize.

“See you in a bit.”

Slowly, I ended the call as if it would limit the damage.

Aliza was a part of my day that could go on for hours on hours.

Silence was no longer of interest after the sound of her voice.

I needed something to cope. Something to quiet its sweetness.

It watered my mouth and plagued my belly with aches from hunger.

At the stop light, I toyed with the buttons and spiked the volume of my stereo. The beat rattled the seats as EST Gee pushed through the speakers.

“Forever rollin’.”

The two words initiated the rapid fire from the featured artist, one I thoroughly enjoyed listening to, although I couldn’t relate to much of his discourse.

Seemingly, he grew up in poverty-stricken neighborhoods and was forced to develop a survivalist mentality that determined if he lived or died on any given day.

Me, on the other hand, was born into a family who inherited wealth and expanded it generation after generation.

Still, the production was solid and the lyrics were addictive.

I nearly blew my speakers playing the tracks after game wins, good practices, and as I pulled into the tunnel most nights.

It was a pregame ritual. Because, for me, my survivalist mentality kicked in moments before my feet touched the wood.

I disobeyed the traffic laws I wasn’t fond of and made my way up the hills. Eventually, I was back on my side of town where homes happened to be few and far apart. The emptiness in my stomach led me to my first destination.

“Welcome to Little Coffee Cottage,” the staff all said at the sound of the bell on the door.

The line met me at the entrance. I couldn’t recall a day I stepped inside and it didn’t.

Since the locals learned of my favorite breakfast spot, they flooded in, hoping to catch a glimpse of me or any of my teammates I’d introduced to the De Bacco breakfast sandwich.

That wasn’t the name it had been given, but it was the name it had adopted over the years.

“De Bacco!” Carmen yelled as she handed the customer their change.

“ Carmen .”

I stepped around the guests, making my way to the counter. Carmen’s arms spread wide as she pulled me in for a hug.

“Where have you been? They’ve been looking for you.”

“If I only filled my belly with breakfast sandwiches, my trainer would have my ass.”

It had been a full week since I’d last stopped by. Carmen had counted the days. I was sure she had. She always did.

“Ahhh– I keep forgetting you serve an actual purpose in the city.” She chuckled.

Her eyes sparkled as her cheeks fattened. Her thick frame rocked as she held her chest.

“I’m trying to get you big like me,” she snickered. “I done went up four sizes since working here. I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t blame me, Carmen. That’s all on them,” I said, nodding toward the crew in the kitchen. “Besides, you look good. Ain’t nobody sweating that weight.”

“Here or to go?”

“To go. Aliza is expecting me.”

“Tell my girl I said hello.”

“I will.”

“So, two then?”

I kissed the skin of my teeth and shifted my weight. With a shake of the head, I reminded Carmen, “Nah. She not fucking with the sandwich. Get her one of those lettuce wraps. The lightest one. She’s on a strict diet for her upcoming performance.”

“I know she’ll shine!”

“As always.”

“I’ll have your order in a sec. Coffee at all?”

“Not today. I need to get some shut eye tonight.”

“Sure thing.”

I stepped out of the way to allow the person waiting behind me to come forward. I pressed my back against the wall on the side of the registers and lifted my right foot to meet it. Aimlessly, I scrolled the notes I’d taken from today’s meeting.

It was combined with film notes full of resolutions I intended to utilize during tomorrow night’s game. Knowing your opponent’s moves was the best line of defense on the wood. Because, you knew that even if you couldn’t score, you could keep them from doing so too.

“De Bacco!”

I grabbed the brown sack between my index finger and thumb.

“Until next time, Carmen,” I tossed over my shoulders.

“Don’t let it be another seven days!” She yelled across the counter, bringing a smile to my face.

“Noted.”

I conquered the distance from the counter to the door. At the entrance was a young boy dressed in black shorts, a black cap, and black shades. On his chest was the number four. The number held significance for me.

I leaned down, placing the back of my hand on his jersey. His eyes were no longer on his phone screen. They were on me.

“What you know about that, kid?” I asked, tapping his chest.

He snatched his shades from his face and peered up at me in sheer surprise. The gaps between his teeth were on full display, forcing a chuckle from my lips. I remembered the days.

“Saint– Saint DE BACCO. No freaking way!”

“Ahmad!”

“Sorry mom. Sorry, but do y– do you see this? Can I get a p–”

“No son. Let him get by. No pictures. We’ve talked about this.”

It’s all good,” I assured her, taking the kid’s phone into my hand.

I enabled the camera and leaned in closer for the photo. I was sure to capture a few in case he wasn’t feeling the first one. As quickly as the encounter began, it ended. I made my way out of the door as I turned to his mother.

“He’s got a set of legs on him. Bring him to the camp this summer. Get him on the wood.”

“Oh God. Yes. I will. A website to sign up? Anything?”

“Ahmad. I’ll remember him. Tag me in that photo and I’ll have my people reach out.”

“Thank you!”

“My pleasure.”

I could spot a baller out of any line up.

They were always different. Usually taller.

Slim. And, a lot more focused than those around them.

Whether it was on their screen watching replays, sports shows, or studying their favorite player.

A basketball was never too far from their fingers.

And, their shoes were usually longer than their head.

In the parking lot of Haystacks, I finished my sandwich and washed it down with the bottle of water in my cupholder. I crumbled the brown wrapper and tossed it into the passenger seat. My head bobbed to the Jeezy track spinning with the volume lowered.

Mentally, I matched every word he spat. The water cleansed my palette. I checked the time on my cell to see just how late my sleeping beauty was.