Two cars sat outside their modest home, and I recognized neither of them. As I waited on the threshold, I put my best game face on and greeted one very surprised, guilty-looking Carmichael Sr.
“Ms. Balan,” he said as he looked over his shoulder. “I left you a message.”
“A message?” I asked. “When?”
“Earlier.”
“Did you call to push the meeting back?” I asked him, feigning ignorance.
“No, we don’t need you.”
“And you decided this earlier?” I looked past him into his house. “You knew I was flying out for this meeting. Could you not have decided yesterday?” I waited for an answer, and as he fidgeted, I felt my irritation growing. “Can I at least come in? My Uber’s gone.”
I genuinely thought he would say no; instead, he nodded and pushed the door back to let me in.
As I followed him into his living room, I knew I would never control myself if I saw that black-haired fucker in this house. However, instead of Onyx, I was greeted with Ryan Carmichael Jr., with his leg propped up on a footstool, wearing a pretty impressive cast.
“Hey, Miss Balan,” Ryan said glumly as he pointed at his leg. “I fucked up.”
“Ryan!” his father scolded him.
“What happened?” I asked as I took a seat, not bothering to wait until I was invited to sit.
“He was intoxicated and walked a tightrope as a dare,” his father told me, and I could hear the anger he was trying to hide.
“How bad is it?”
“Two months in a cast. If we’re lucky, no surgery.”
“Two months. Your summer vacation just got boring,” I said to the younger Carmichael with a smile. “You got X-rays?”
“Yes,” his father told me as he crossed to the table and handed me a brown envelope.
Holding them up to the light, I saw the break. It was nice and clean. “Snapped it right in half.” I looked at Ryan and noted hisutter misery. “Okay, so this isn’t what I wanted to see when I got here today,” I told him.
“I’m really sorry for wasting your time,” he sniffled.
“Is this why you canceled?” I asked his dad.
“Didn’t think he would be of interest to you now,” he said with a heavy sigh as he sat. “Didn’t want him to have any more disappointment.”
“Well, a break’s a break, but it looks clean.” Pulling out my tablet, I opened the draft contract. “You can still play, Ryan, as soon as you’re healthy again.”
He sat up as much as he could, and hope shone bright in his eyes. “You still want me?”
“Well, it’s got to be a mutual want,” I told him with a smile. “But,” I glanced at his dad, “I need to make a few adjustments to the contract, just in case there’s anything that hinders us.”
“Hinders?”
“If it’s not as clean as I think it is, then we may have a little bit longer for physical therapy. You’re a point guard. I need your legs at your best.” I looked between them both. “But I don’t think this will mess you up too much. I’ve seen worse. What I don’t like is the underage drinking and doing stupid dares that mess with your future.” I heard his dad mumble his agreement. “Ryan, you need to keep this basketball scholarship, you told me this, and colleges don’t want to risk scholarships on people who don’t respect the opportunities they’re given.”
“I know.” His head dropped, and I heard the choke in his voice.
“So, two months, don’t force it, do every little thing the doctor tells you, and as soon as it’s off, call me and we’ll meet with your coach.”
“The coach?” his dad asked me.
“Yes, you’re really good, Ryan. But I need you to play at your best, because I’m going to have the best scouts coming to yourgames. Your coach knows what you need in order to secure your future. I can help with that.” I looked between the two of them. “If you want me to. I can’t force you.”
