Present Day
I whipped my car into the first available spot I found on the ground floor of the parking garage. It might be the off season, but I knew the front office was hard at work discussing and processing the various eligible and non-eligible players that wanted to make the Chicago Violets home. They were evaluating rosters, player contracts, and salaries.
I wasn’t proud of our performance—specificallymyperformance during the last championship games—and as much as I wanted to keep beating myself up over it, that was simply how the game went.
There were winners and there were losers.
The only time I’d ever lost was at the hands of Brittney Lee.
I checked myself out in the shine of my black, sleek convertible, then headed inside, blanketed in the artificial heat that was necessary for Chicago winters. My body moved on autopilot as I headed up the elevators that led to the one floordesignated for our team, toward the one office that you could argue had a decent view of the Chicago skyline. While the people at the Violets are amazing, it was the investment in the organization that could use more work.
Throughout my four years being here, it’d become a running joke that if you weren’t Nola Young and you found yourself in Henry Vail’s office, you were screwed.
I’d been Henry’s golden child since I got drafted. What I used to think was a partial sucking up in the name of staying on Olivia Young’s good side, had actually revealed that Henry saw me as a niece, or maybe even a wayward little sister who could use some home training.
But when your parents were basketball legends and you were desperate to fit into their shadow, it was only natural you’d adopt their wild personalities too.
“Henry!” I sang as I stepped into his office. His office always ran colder than the floor, but that was what my 100% merino wool sweater and beanie covering my freshly-twisted scalp was for. Henry didn’t move as he gazed out the floor to ceiling windows so I stepped behind his desk and shook his shoulders.
“Ah, Nola!” He jumped slightly at my touch.
“What’s with the spooks, man? Made a bad bet?” I wondered, gazing out the window with him, wanting to peer inside his brain to see what he was thinking. I’d never had a bad meeting with Henry but I didn’t know why I was here today.
“You could say that,” he mumbled and spun to the front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
“Why are you being formal with me?” I scoffed. I knew a normal person might start to freak out from Henry’s demeanor, but not a single bad thing could be happening to me.
Yes, I had a four year contract with the Violets that was expiring, but there was no reason I wouldn’t return. Minus my penchant for devout loyalty, there was no way in hell I wasgoing anywhere but Chicago. This city was my home, and the fans might as well be my family. Even if the SkyJet Arena was in desperate need of some TLC—and our team even more desperate for a state-of-the-art facility—that’d only happen when I brought another championship back to the city proving the Violets were worth the investment.
My agent Daya was hard at work on my contract negotiations. At the thought of my powerhouse, superstar best friend I threw a silent cross across my body because, yeah, I wasthatgrateful for her. We were a team; each other’s ride or die. She was pitching a salary increase for me that would strain the Violets overall salary team cap, but I knew I was worth the cost.
I plopped in Henry’s chair like I’d done countless times over the years, not an ounce of formality in my body. I went to silence my phone and I saw a text from my Aunt Rashida.
Weird she’d know I was out right now, and even weirder for her to not just call me, but I shrugged it off and tucked my phone back into my pocket.
Henry took a deep sigh, massaging his temples and ruffling the salty gray curls still laying thick on his head. “Nola, do you remember what it was like here four years ago?”
I could only relax slightly at the notion Henry wanted to walk down memory lane, but the need for nostalgia still felt stuffy.
“Well, it’d be rude to call it bleak…”
“And that’s why I love you, kid. You’re absolutely right. Bleak as hell. Tickets sucked, the two owner groups wanted to sell. It was dismal.”
It didn’t matter that I’d been focused on winning the NCAA championship my senior year, it was hard to be any person entering the draft and not know that the top teams—the Violets and the Jaguars—were close to shutting down or going to the highest bidder.
It was me and Lee that had given the teams a little more life to see another day.
Henry waved his tan arms around in the air, fresh from his yearly Aruba vacation, his tell that he was reminding himself to get on with the point. “You know we’ve been looking for a coach since Pat retired.”
I inhaled deeply as we finally arrived at why I was here. Henry probably wanted me to continue to meet with any potential coaches like I had with the first coach the org interviewed.
“Right.” I nodded.
“ I think we’ve found her,” he admitted. He flipped through the papers on his desk. The front office had long gotten on him for being in his late forties and still printing documents out, but he was stuck in his ways.
“Cool. When do I get to meet her?”
“You…actually know her already.”
