“That was Chucky.”
“It still applies. But if you prefer, you’re the Sinclair to my Overton.”
“They were a couple.”
“Not at first but point taken. You’re the Max to my Khadijah.”
“Wow you are such a dork?”
“Yeah, but I’m a cute dork. I’m a ‘Here me out’ type of dork. Anyway, I had fun. Maybe … we … should do this again.” Aldridge was probably stuttering at the realization he’d just lightweight asked me on a date. “Not, not like a date … but on some friend zone type vibe. You don’t have to wear makeup or dress to impress, and I will try not to look so devastatingly handsome. And when the check comes, we just split that bad boy right in half like King Solomon. Because friends don’t make friends pay for their app, entrée, and dessert.”
“And after the meal we’ll just go to our respective homes. Because that’s what friends do,” I added on.
“Sometimes, occasionally friends have sleepovers.” I had to fight off the laugh bubbling in my chest. “You know with the face mask and pajamas, maybe a good rom-com.”
“And then in the morning they go to brunch at that trendy spot everyone’s raving about.”
“Cut to twenty years from now and they’re picking out wallpaper for the guest bathroom. Because friendship.”
“I should go.”
He plunged his hands in his pockets. “Text me when you get home. It could be a quick ‘I’m home,’ message or a photo. I don’t … I don’t know. I’m going to let you figure that out.”
I laughed so loudly passersby several rows away looked in our direction. “Goodnight, Aldridge.”
“Drive safe.”
The Ramblers playeda handful of exposition games but today was the first official game of the season. Preseason allowed us to get accustomed to playing together as a team and anticipating what our teammates would do. I appreciated that our first game was in Vegas. It was nice to have your city rooting for you.
As the lights dimmed, Colin Pratt leaned into me and said, “Don’t fuck up newbie.” I didn’t respond, he was just trying to get into my head. But the fact I was starting, and he would be sitting on the bench spoke volumes. The announcer introduced the visiting team, the Portland Trail Blazers, first. I shook out my limbs and rolled my neck while he did.
During our warmup I spotted Danessa, my mother, and Anika in the crowd. I’d offered to fly my mother out for the game, she always attended my first game of the season. It was like my one superstition, well that and tapping on the locker room door three times before the start of every game. What I didn’t expect was for my father to also be in attendance. My mother kept that part a secret, probably because she knew I would’ve told her he wasn’t welcome.
Panning over to my father he had a drink in his hand, it probably wasn’t his first of the night, and unlike my mother who appeared excited my dad looked pissed off. As if my mother dragged him to this game and he’d rather be anywhere but here. If I were an unemployed custodian with a son playing professional ball I’d be beaming from ear to ear. But the only time my father bragged about me was when he thought he could get something out of it.
The announcers’ tone enlivened, and the crowd started to stomp their feet. “And now the starting lineup for your LAS VEGAS RAMBELERSSSSS!” The instrumental version of Nipsey Hussle’s “Grinding All My Life”played loudly in the background.
“At power forward, standing six foot eight, with power, finesse, and the heart of a lion, from UCLA … number seven, CAMERON ‘THE TANK’ BRADLEY!!” Bradley pounded his chest, flexing to the crowd as lights swirled around him.
“At the shooting forward position, a man who can do it all, the Swiss Army knife of this squad, standing six foot two, from the University of Kentucky, number eleven, TYLER WILLIAMS!!” Williams threw up three fingers indicating his triple-threat versatility as the crowd roared.
And at center, the six-foot four beast in the paint, reigning from the heart of New Orleans, the man who owns the rim … number twenty-three, DARRRIIIIUS JOHNSON!!” The crowd erupted as the spotlight flashed over Darius, who pumped his fist toward the fans in the stands.
At the shooting guard, a sharpshooter from deep, a defensive nightmare for opponents… Standing six foot five from Duke University, number twenty-seven, DEION ‘DECK’ MCCABE!!” The arena literally shook as Deion coolly strolled to center court, nodding to his teammates.
“At point guard, standing six foot five, hailing from Northeast Philly, a man with speed and court vision like noother, he’s the playmaker, the spark plug … number four ALDRIDGE ‘THE TOWER’ MOSLEY!!” Making my way to center court I raised both arms, hyping the crowd, ready for tip-off.
“Your Las Vegas Ramblers, ladies and gentlemen! Make some noise.”
The next forty-eight minutes of gameplay were a blur. Playing basketball was kind of an out-of-body experience. You know at the end of the day when you get in your car and then next thing you know you’re in your driveway; it was sort of like that. My body relied on muscle memory to make the three-pointers. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew McCabe was nearby, so I passed the ball to a fixed point behind me and Deion drove to the hole.
I ran to the other end of the court, setting up a screen that denied the Trail Blazers’ center from making his basket. At the free throw line I locked in, sinking both baskets to widen our lead. When I stole the ball, I drove to the basket with nothing but red shirts behind me. With a spin, I threw down a double-handed dunk. Celebrating with a roaring scream. McCabe and Dante dapped me up before Coach Justus called me to the bench. With five minutes left in the game, we’d secured the win and I was allowed to rest. I passed by Colin who was coming into the game to relieve me.
“Don’t fuck up our lead,” I said under my breath. Petty? Yes, but it felt good.
After the game and press interviews, I met up with my parents in the members only lounge. You either had to be a player, staff, or extremely rich to get in. When my mother spotted me, she shot up. “There’s my baby.” She pulled me into an embrace and we swayed side to side. There was just something about a mother’s hug that fixed what ailed you.
I looked around hoping no one overheard. “Mom please, not in mixed company.”
