“You were first on my list of guests,” Avery says, drawing my attention back to our conversation. She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s best known as a tough journalist. A smart one, too. “You and Caleb Bradley.”
“Wait.” My hand pauses with the coffee halfway to my mouth. “Is Caleb on today’s show, too?”
Just the sound of that dude’s name scrapes my nerves. I’ve thought of Iris more times than I want to admit in the last three months. Unfortunately, that also means thinking about her punk-ass boyfriend. The media can’t seem to say my name without saying his, and vice versa, but thank God Caleb and I haven’t actually been in the same place at the same time.
“Yeah, Caleb’s on the show, too.” A frown crinkles Avery’s smooth skin. “Your agent didn’t tell you?”
My eyes lock with Lloyd’s as he walks on set with MacKenzie Decker, president of basketball operations for the San Diego Waves, the latest expansion team approaching their first season. My agent glances away almost immediately. He knows there’s no love lost between Caleb and me and probably assumed I would have declined this appearance had I known Caleb was booked, too.
My stepbrother, an agent himself, didn’t want to mix blood with business, or he would have repped me. Technically, he’s not blood, but most in the league don’t even know we’re connected. He recommended Lloyd with only a few reservations. Right now, facing an hour on camera pretending not to hate Caleb, I have even more reservations about my agent.
“Lloyd has a lot going on,” I reply, smoothing my expression into a blank slate as he and MacKenzie Decker approach. “He must have forgotten to mention it.”
Deck, as everyone calls him, ignores me and reaches for Avery immediately, pulling her close to kiss her cheek. She glances at me self-consciously, but a smile spreads over her face and affection warms her eyes when she looks way up at the basketball executive and former baller. I’ve heard rumors about them dating. It’s obviously true, because Deck looks like he might scandalize us all and bend her over the nearest couch any minute now.
“Ahem.” Avery puts a little space between her and Deck but doesn’t step completely from the crook of his arm. “August, have you met MacKenzie Decker?”
“I’m a huge fan, sir.” I extend my hand to one of the greatest point guards to ever lace up. “It’s truly an honor.”
“You can drop the ‘sir’ and call me Deck,” he says, accepting my handshake. “You have a bright future, August. I’ve been watching you for a while now.”
I glance between Lloyd and Decker. I don’t want to play for an expansion team. Even Deck, one of the most brilliant basketball minds of our generation, can’t skip the slow start any expansion team inevitably experiences. It’ll be awhile before the Waves start winning. Spending my most productive years in a brand-spanking-new, dead-end situation is not how I envision my run as a professional basketball player.
If I thought Lloyd was avoiding my eyes before, he’s damn near hiding now. There are several things we haven’t seen eye to eye on already, and if he was expecting some wet-behind-the-ears pup who would blindly do whatever he said, he’s got another thing coming.
“Congrats on the championship.” Deck sips his coffee, one arm still resting lightly around Avery’s waist. “And on the Naismith. That’s quite a senior year you had there.”
“Thank you, sir.” The lift of his eyebrows reminds me he doesn’t want the formality. “I mean, Deck.”
“You took a risk staying all four years,” he says, watching me closely.
Most players with my prospects leave college after their sophomore or junior year. They want to start earning as soon as possible, and the risk of injury before we reach the NBA always hovers over every year we remain in college.
“I wanted my degree. Wanted a thorough education.” I toss the half-full cup of coffee into a nearby trash can. “On and off the court. Coach Mannard’s program was great to shore up my fundamentals.”
“True. And frankly, I wish more players stayed in college longer. The one-and-done era has weakened fundamentals overall.” Decker nods, his mouth quirking in a one-sided grin. “There’s no education like playing against elite players, though. There’s no preparation for that. You just gotta dive in, sink or swim.”