But beginning on a team that probably won’t have a winning season for years sucks. I’m already thinking ahead to the end of my rookie contract and how I’ll get out of San Diego. Coach Kirby’s voice in my head calls me spoiled, ungrateful, and a pussy. He would never tolerate this kind of defeatist attitude. And there are some plusses here.
For one thing, I’m playing with a veteran who knows how to win at this level. Kenan Ross is a beast. I’ve admired his game for years. I watch him during our first team meeting and have to admit it’s a great opportunity to play with him, even if I’m not sure he wants to be here either. He left a contending team, who won a championship just a few years ago, to come here and start from scratch.
“In my nose or in my teeth?” he asks under his breath while our head coach reiterates the privilege we have of building a team from the bottom.
“Huh?” I shoot him a perplexed look. “What’re you talking about?”
“You checking me out like a chick,” he says with a crooked grin, his teeth startlingly white against his dark skin. “So either you wanna ask me out . . .” He gives me a quick side-eye. “And the answer is hell no, by the way.”
I snort-snicker, glancing up to make sure Coach hasn’t noticed us not paying attention.
“Or there’s a booger in my nose, something in my teeth.”
“Uh . . . neither,” I assure him. “Nose and teeth all clear, and rest assured, you’re a little hairier than my usual.”
“Bigger, too, I assume,” he says with an easy grin.
Dude is huge. At six foot seven inches, he’s one of the best power forwards in the game. And swole with it. He’s as hard as marble, and at thirty years old, in the best shape of his life. He picked up the nickname “Glad” in college, short for gladiator. He throws bows down low, and he’s known for his aggressiveness in the paint. He battles for every possession, goes after every rebound. He’s an excellent two-way player, defense and offense, and as someone who has been accused of needing work in the defense department, I have much to learn from him.
Iris busted my balls about defense.
Fuck. I promised myself I wouldn’t think about her. She’s pregnant with another man’s baby. A jerk’s baby.
“Now you all pouty,” Kenan says from the side of his mouth. “Okay. I’ll go out with you. Damn.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“Keep your pity date, man.” My smile disappears. “Though I was thinking about this chick I promised myself I wouldn’t think about anymore.”
“Yeah.” Kenan’s smile fades as fast as mine did. “I can relate.”
I’m an idiot. Kenan requested a trade when his wife cheated with one of his teammates on his last team. “Shit, Glad,” I say, inwardly kicking myself. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s aight.” His smile is manufactured, nothing like the natural one of a few minutes ago. “She’s not worth discussing. Neither is he.”
“But she was worth leaving a championship team to come here?” I ask.