Page 176 of Ruthless Court

“Personal problem?”

“No.”

“Girl problem?”

I look at him.

He raises both hands and backs away from the question.

“Calf looks good.”

“Excellent diagnosis.”

I hop off the table and head into the locker room.

My uniform hangs inside the locker. Fresh white jersey. Number three across the chest. Shorts folded beneath it. Warm-up pants and jacket waiting on the bench.

I dress slowly.

Not because I need the time.

Every time I move too fast, I reach toward my phone.

I zip it into the pocket of my warm-up bag and leave it there.

For now.

The arena is nearly empty when I step onto the floor.

Crew members tape black cables along the baseline. ESPN has cameras positioned across from the benches, and technicians test the overhead rig. A Sports Illustrated photographer adjusts a long lens near the tunnel. Local reporters wait beside the scorer’s table with coffee cups and hopeful expressions.

One spots me.

“Haverhill, got a minute?”

I shake my head and jog toward the basket.

Pregame interviews go through media staff. Everyone knows the rule. Reporters still try to catch players before the coaches arrive.

Another one calls after me.

“Quick question about the draft projections?”

The media coordinator steps between us.

“He’ll be available after the game.”

I take a ball from the rack.

The empty court usually clears my head.

I begin close to the basket. Right block. Left block. Short corner. Elbow.

The ball leaves my fingers clean and snaps through the net.

I move deeper.

Catch.