Page 1 of Vaughn & Cori (D-Ville Projects #7)
Cori
“Be aggressive! Be aggressive! B-E A-G-G R-E-S-S-I-V-E!”
The cheerleaders echo the chant and Jaylen Winston slaps the floor as the rest of his team follows suit before forcing a turnover on the defensive end of the court.
The chant works so well for the players that I repeat the words in my mind, hyping myself up enough to keep my head on a swivel and get the shot I need for tonight’s recap.
When I got my degree in photojournalism, taking pictures at the Friday night high school games and writing think pieces on the odds of Douglasville Prep winning the state championship is not what I envisioned for myself.
Yet here I am, stuck, underpaid, and overwhelmingly frustrated with the progression of my career.
That being said, if I’m destined to be the de facto sports reporter for The Daily , I intend on being the best one there is from here to Crescent Falls.
“Excuse you!” someone yells from behind me as I stand to follow the flow of the game, not bothering to look back. Time is steadily ticking off the clock and I haven’t gotten my shot yet, so whoever it is will have to move around accordingly. “Bitch, I know you hear me?”
If I hadn’t heard her before, there’s no chance I’d miss her calling me out of my name.
When I glance over my shoulder to see a woman who looks to be around my age glaring at me, I laugh it off.
She’s probably somebody’s parent or auntie, mad as hell that their team is about to take this L.
So I give her some grace while reminding myself that this is not the time or place to show my ass.
That definitely won’t get me to the top of the journalism game.
If anything, acting out will only get me fired. And I ain’t going backwards for nobody.
Before I can turn around to get back in position, the crowd jumps to their feet, roaring in celebration as Jaylen Winston comes down from the rim, landing over his opponent, and I miss the whole thing, worrying about the woman behind me.
I don’t even get my camera up in time to catch the moments immediately after when the two players exchange words.
“Ain’t that about a bitch,” I murmur as I cut my eyes back at the woman, amused at how true the statement is because it’ll be just my luck if that’s the last highlight of the game.
If it is, I’ll have to take an L as well and settle for some random shot that’s sure to have folks scrolling past my post once they see the box score.
For the next forty seconds there’s a string of turnovers, missed shots, and not one foul called by the refs.
They’ve apparently decided to let the two teams play it out, and I can’t be too mad about it because I’m past ready to go at this point.
I’ve accepted my fate for the night. The visiting crowd and the woman behind me, however, are pissed as hell while the time on the clock continues to tick away.
“Where’s the call, Ref?” she yells the moment her team’s pass gets picked off for the last time.
It’s a valid question, but I can’t help but smile as the Douglasville Prep point guard lobs the ball toward the basket and Jaylen Winston catches it for a dunk, essentially ending the game.
My camera shutters not missing a moment this time as I focus on my target and move out of the way of the crowd rushing onto the court.
I even take a few celebratory pics before I get knocked from behind so hard that I’m sent stumbling forward into a solid frame and I grab onto the first thing I find to keep myself from falling.
“The fuck?” The man whose shirt I have a handful of looks down at me with confusion in his dark brown eyes that clears the moment he realizes what just happened.
He’s almost a foot taller than my five foot seven height, with golden brown skin and a few black and white tats that peep out from around the collar of his shirt.
He smells good as hell and his face looks vaguely familiar, but that’s no excuse for how long I study his features while he studies mine.
“Damn, girl, you okay?” he asks, barely holding in his laughter.
That produces a sexy smile as I steady myself enough to move my hand away, leaving his shirt stretched out of shape from the death grip I had on it.
“Yeah, I’m good… Just lost my balance,” I say, moving my hand down the front of his shirt without permission, smoothing out the spot.
“You sure?” He narrows his eyes, scanning the area behind me, and I follow his gaze, spotting the woman from earlier walking toward the door. “All you gotta do is say the word,” he says, drawing my eyes back to him and away from the woman who pushed me.
Instead of responding, I just shrug, checking my camera for any damage, then look back at him, wishing I could put it to good use and get some candid shots of him for my personal collection.
Hell, if his eyes weren’t so glued to me, I wouldn’t hesitate sneaking a few.
I’d take a step back and let my trigger finger fly, leaving the camera to do the rest of the work to capture his facial features, which are now relaxed but still no less striking.
We’re stuck staring at each other in silence, and for a moment, I think about asking permission right before Jaylen Winston comes up, throwing his arm around the man who’s almost eye level with the superstar’s six foot eight frame.
“What’s up, Pop?” Jaylen asks and I realize why the man looks so familiar.
“You tell me. That ending was sloppy as hell.”
If there’s any question about their relationship, the exchange immediately gives it away.
Well, that and the similarity in their physical features that highlight all the differences between a boy and a grown, well-aged man.
I don’t know what his mama looks like, but Jaylen ain’t got nothing on his daddy as they stand side by side.
Now that his son is present, it gives me an excuse to do what I wanted to earlier and ask for a picture.
“May I?” I hold my camera up, get into position, and Jaylen smiles, throwing up his set with pride. While his father, on the other hand, gives his son a pointed look. It’s not until Jaylen begrudgingly puts his hands down that the father turns to me.
“Go ahead and shoot your shot.”
He grants permission, smiles for the camera, and I don’t miss the double meaning of his words. Especially when Jaylen murmurs something in his ear that makes the smile directed at me and my camera grow wider.
“Any word of where you’re headed for college, Jaylen?
” I ask, taking advantage of the situation that just might get me some inside information, but I’m met with silence instead as they exchange glances.
I don’t know what to make of it, but when they don’t walk away or flat out shut me down, I switch up my strategy, focusing on the father.
“Is it okay if I ask Jaylen a few questions?”
“That depends,” he says, flashing another smile my way.
“On?”
“If you let me take you out.”
“You’re wild for that one, Pop,” Jaylen says, covering a smile with his hand as he shakes his head and walks off to a group of friends waiting for him while I’m left tongue-tied, not knowing what to do.
Technically, his offer is on some fuck me for a favor type of shit, and the last thing I need is to have my name attached to conversations like that. So, I shut it down immediately.
“You know what? Never mind.”
I shake my head and pack up my camera before turning to leave as he calls after me with a hint of humor in his voice.
I don’t bother looking back. Not because I’m so offended by the offer, but because under any other circumstances I would’ve said yes.
And that’s not a good look for a future award-winning photojournalist.
Once I make it outside, I’m forced to weave my way through a crowd of people to my car.
I take note of everyone in my vicinity talking shit, bumping music, and collecting money they made from the game just in case the lady from earlier decides to pop out in the parking lot.
I’m technically still on the clock, so the same rules apply, but the way I’m feeling right now, I could make an exception for her.
Luckily, I don’t have to when I make it to my car without incident.
Once I’m home, I look at the clock before fixing myself a snack and settling down at my desk for the night.
One thing I can say about the news is that timeliness is just as important as accuracy.
So, I plan to have my story up by midnight, scrolling over every photo that piques my interest only to land on the ones with Mr. Winston staring back at me every time.