AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ron looked down at the ball as if it were a grenade with the pin already pulled. He had observed Dan's murderous games of one-on-one when he was upset over something, and he had no intention of getting involved. Assuming an expression of deep regret, he gestured toward his newest navy suit. "I'm sorry, Dan, but I have a meeting, and I'm not dressed for—"
"Take it in, goddammit!"
Ron took it in.
Dan let him shoot, but Ron was so nervous that the ball bounced off the backboard well above the rim. Dan snatched the rebound and dribbled viciously to center court. Ron stood nervously on the sidelines trying to figure out how to get away.
"Guard me, for chrissake!"
"Actually, I was never too good at basketball."
"Guard me!"
Ron did his best, but Dan was nearly a foot taller and forty pounds heavier, as well as being a professional athlete instead of a born klutz.
"Move in closer! Use your elbows, for chrissake! Do what you friggin' have to to get the friggin' ball!"
"Uh—Elbows are illegal, Dan, and I—"
Dan stuck out his foot and deliberately tripped him.
As Ron sprawled to the concrete, he heard the knee of his new navy trousers rip. He felt the sting in the heels of his hands and looked up in outrage. "You did that on purpose!"
Dan's lip curled. "So what are you going to do about it, pussy?"
Furious, Ron scrambled to his feet and threw off his suit coat. "I'm going to shove that ball down your throat, you smug son of a bitch."
"Not if you play by the rules." Dan held the ball out, deliberately taunting him.
Ron went after him. He slammed his elbow into Dan's gut and punched the ball free with his opposite fist. It shot across the court. He raced after it, but Dan beat him there and snatched it up. As the coach spun toward him with the ball, Ron punched him hard in the ribs then kicked at the back of his bad knee, knocking him off-balance. Before Dan could recover, Ron had the ball and drove to the basket, making a perfect shot.
"Now you're getting the idea." Dan grabbed the ball.
Ron moved in. Unfortunately, his violent bump didn't keep Dan from making his next shot. Ron took the ball, butted Dan with his head, and dribbled to the edge of the court, where he just missed.
The ensuing battle was vicious, fought with flying fists, jabbing elbows, illegal trips, and teeth. Dan, however, played clean.
When it was over, Ron examined the damage. He had destroyed his suit, bruised his hand, and only lost by three baskets. It was the proudest moment of his life.
The watery autumn sun came out from behind a cloud as the two of them collapsed on the grass next to the court to catch their breath. Ron propped his forearms on his bent knees, sucked in air, and gazed with deep satisfaction at the goose egg puffing up Dan's left eyebrow.
"I'm afraid you're going to have quite a shiner there." He tried, but couldn't quite hold back his glee.
Dan laughed and swiped at his dripping forehead with the sleeve of his knit shirt. "Once you stopped playing like a debutante, you came on strong. We'll have to do it again."
Yes! Ron wanted to throw his arms in the air like Rocky on the museum steps but contented himself with a macho grunt.
Dan stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles as he leaned back on the heels of his hands. "Tell me something, Ron. Do you think I've been pushing the men too hard?"
Ron pulled off his ruined necktie. "Physically, no."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"If you want to know whether or not I approve of what Phoebe did in the locker room, I don't. She should have talked to you about her concerns first."
"She says I can't handle criticism."
He looked so outraged that Ron laughed.
