Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“I’m just saying I don’t want them getting no ideas.” His scowl deepens. “And I don’t want you getting any either.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that. Your teammates are the boyest boys I ever met. I know them all except that new guy.”
“Don’t get any ideas about the new guy. Not that he’s that new. He’s been on the team all season.”
“He ain’t been to the house.”
“He’s kind of a loner.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t like you,” I offer sweetly.
He turns to the mirror and checks out my handiwork with the tie. “Everybody likes me.”
Arrogant, but accurate. The boy’s charisma rivals his jump shot. Which makes him charming to everyone, but sometimes unbearable to his younger sister.
“What kind of name is Naz?” I ask. “Like Nas the rapper?”
“Pronounced the same, but short for Nazareth. Who names their kid that?”
“His mama, I guess,” I laugh, leaning against the dresser and watching as Cliff removes his wave cap and brushes his hair. “I think it’s kind of sexy.”
“Tee, what’d I say?” Cliff shoots me a glare. “Stay away from my teammates—especially that one. He’s gunning for my spot.”
“Your spot? He’s a two-guard?”
“He plays the two or the three. He’s my backup, but Coach Lipton ain’t taking my ass out ‘less he has to. Got good old Naz riding that bench,” he says with obvious satisfaction. “Scrub ass.”
“Sounds like you got beef with him.”
“Nah. Long as he stays in his place.”
“Which is where?”
“Outta my way and on that bench.”
“Well, you’re the star,” I say dryly. “Everyone stays out of your way, right?”
He narrows his eyes, brows lowering. “You being sarcastic?”
“No. Derisive. See the big words my basic public school education taught me?”
He huffs out a laugh and hooks an elbow around my neck, pulling me in close. “You’ll be at the championship game, right? It’s beat up you didn’t make at least one game this season.”
“Excuse me for having a life,” I say, my brows peaking at his nerve and self-centeredness.
“What you doing that’s so important you missed my games?”
I pull back to peer up at his handsome face. “Do you really not know I’m working at Ms. Hattie’s shop every day after school?”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever she tells me to do. Sweeping. Washing and drying towels.” I beam with pride. “I just started shampooing.”
“You still thinking about skipping college to do hair?” he asks, grabbing his school uniform blazer from the back of his desk chair.
“I’m thinking about going to community college to do hair. I need training. Just because it’s not a four-year degree doesn’t mean it’s not what’s right for me. You’re planning to skip college to ball in the league as soon as you can, right?” I wait for the nod I know is coming. “What’s the difference? We both know what we want and see the path to get us there.”
“Well, I’m guaranteed one and done. I’ll be drafted after my freshman year.” He slips Air Force Ones onto his feet. “I just don’t want you to settle and be stuck here all your life.”
“What’s wrong with Houston?”
“Nothing, I guess. It’s just where we grew up. What we’ve always known. If I had to stay here forever, not see anything else, not be anything else, I’d suffocate. It’s the dream of getting out that keeps me motivated.”
“What if you get drafted by Houston and your butt ends up staying right here after all?”
“If I’m playing ball, even here ain’t here. I’ll be at a different place in life. Traveling all over the country, all over the world. Nothing but money and opportunity. You think I’m being scouted now? Wait’ll we win the big game.” His mouth hardens. “So Naz can forget playing time. I need every minute on the floor I can get.”
“Well, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. You the best, right?”
“Damn right.” The irritation clears from his expression. “You know wherever I end up, there’s a place for you with me.”
“What? With your groupies? No, thank you.”
“I’m serious, Tee.” He pulls me in for a side hug. “If I’m good, you good. I mean that. I’mma always make sure you straight.”
“I know.” I loop an arm around his waist. “You may be a pain in the ass.”
“Excuse me?” he asks, pulling back to glare/grin down at me.
“But you’re my pain in the ass,” I finish, giving him one final squeeze.
“Kira!” Mama’s voice booms from downstairs. “Cliff! Get down here. Somebody just pulled into the driveway.”
“Here we go,” he mutters, heading out the door and down the stairs.
A steady stream of towering boys invades our house over the next twenty minutes. Mama may have grumbled when Cliff first asked if he could host a pre-championship party at the house, but she’s in her element, surrounded by hungry people. Her smooth brown skin shines with a light sheen of perspiration from living in that kitchen all day. The more people who crowd into our house, the wider her smile grows.