Chapter 19 Calvin
calvin
Two-a-days were supposed to build.
Endurance, strength, character, plus some other traits I was too exhausted to even pull to mind.
Because actually, the two-a-days were beating the shit out of me.
For all my conditioning and preparing and supposedly staying ready so I didn’t have to get there… man.
The workouts, the drills, the shooting practices, the mock two-on-two scrimmages…
shit. I guess I was glad I hadn’t been just sitting around on my ass during my suspension, but for the strain training camp was putting on me, for the effort I was having to put into something that used to feel effortless…
that felt like exactly what I’d been doing.
My legs may as well have been on somebody else’s body for as much control I had over them as I collapsed onto a bench in the locker room, spent after a round of suicide drills.
“You’re halfway through hell week,” one of the trainers gleefully announced as he walked around handing out protein shakes.
I couldn’t even find the energy for a pissy look, let alone a snide remark, so I just took my shake and sat back to drain it with the provided straw while sweat dripped off me.
“Hell” week might be understating it, honestly.
Around me, rookies and other vets were in various states of exhaustion were going through the ritual – protein shake, shower, recovery if needed, and then finally home.
Just to be up at six to do the whole thing over again the next day.
At least no one would be able to claim a lack of readiness when it was time to get on the plane for the first game of the season in what felt like just a few days.
We hadn’t won the fuck of the draw with that one, on multiple fronts – we were headed to Tennessee to play the Trojans, which was never an easy game.
Assuming I actually got to play.
So far… I felt like my chances were looking good.
Thierry plopped down on the bench next to me with a groan, stretching his legs. “Cross… I thought you were fucking around when you said you’d been staying in shape. I feel bad for doubting you.”
“Nigga… no you don’t” I chuckled, almost choking on my shake. “Do you think I didn’t hear you telling coach I didn’t look tired?”
“Just trying to give you more opportunities to prove yourself.”
“More favors is the last thing his ass needs,” Jay muttered as he passed by, and it took everything in me to simply ignore that shit – I didn’t need whatever drama he was on.
Especially since he’d been trying me all week, presumably still salty about the situation at the mixer between Amelia and his guests.
I needed my coaches to see I was capable of controlling myself.
“Man shut yo’ bitch ass up,” Thierry quipped – clearly uninterested in proving his self control.
He was a known crash-out, but also arguably one of the best centers in the league.
He had that kind of leverage.
“Kids – do I have to put somebody in timeout?” Kevion said as he stepped into the are, with a particularly pointed look at Jay, who was the one starting shit.
Jay just grunted, and went back to minding his own fucking business as Kevion approached where Thierry and I were sitting.
“This team captain looking ass nigga,” Thierry chuckled. “It’s just training camp, relax.”
“It’s only just to you cause you play too damn much,” Kevion countered. “Cross out here fighting for his life and you talking about just training camp.”
Thierry scoffed. “He’s been hooping his ass off. You know there ain’t shit to worry about. Come on,” he ribbed, sitting up. “I know Coach been in your ear. Dream team back together, or…?”
Instead of answering, Kevion just gave him a look, which… hmmm.
Kinda felt like an answer.
Kev was a pretty straight shooter, and if he knew something like that was the opposite of true, he would – tactfully -- correct it.
Instead… he was straight-faced now.
Unnaturally so.
Yeah.
There had definitely been talks.
“Cross – Sierra and Janiyah are fucking pressed about getting you over for dinner. Janiyah says she needs you for a Tiktok?”
I frowned, shaking my head. “Hell no – she has more followers than me, and them damn teenagers are mean as fuck.”
“Tell her yourself – Sierra is getting takeout from Honeybee…”
Still, I shook my head. “Tempting offer, but I think I’m gonna hit the recovery room, then head home. Today took it out of me. Tell them tomorrow though – they have my word.”
Kev shrugged. “Okay, but when they start throwing the subliminal shade online about you being ghost, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“He can’t say shit, cause he knows he’s been a recluse,” Thierry chimed in, earning a side-eye.
Although… he wasn’t wrong.
My Summer in the Heights hadn’t been only about getting out of the spotlight – I had withdrawn from my friends in the industry as well.
I could admit now that the shit had been hurtful – borderline traumatic if I was keeping it completely transparent.
Being so far removed from the team, and team-adjacent friends, have given me space to pretend it wasn’t really happening.
Not that it worked that well, but still.
It had been a decent enough exercise in solitude, and what my life might look like if I never got to rejoin the team.
I’d even purchased the building, trying to get a foot into a different source of income just in cause I didn’t get anymore professional basketball checks, so my savings wouldn’t be affected.
Well… too affected.
The building needed remodeling, and probably better “maintenance” than Arthur was providing, but he’d come with the building and I didn’t have the heart to replace him.
Not that my loyalty got me any damn respect.
“Not too much of a recluse – what’s up with shorty you brought to the mixer?” Kev asked, and a grin bloomed on my face before I could school my expression.
“Yeah, you should be cheesing, she was bad as fuck – where you find her?” Thierry questioned. “Better yet – are you finished with her?”
“Nigga, don’t even play with me like that,” I told him, the smile dropping from my face… and he picked that shit right up.
“Ohhhh, she means something to him – you see how serious he got?! Look at his face!” Thierry cackled. “Aye, you got her vetted, right? Or she already got her hands in your pockets?”
Kev scoffed. “You know damn well Cole wouldn’t be going for that – as many headlines as she’s saved your ass from.”
Thierry tossed his arms up. “Hey, I welcome the villain edit, it don’t mean a thing to me.” He shifted to toss a smirk in my direction. “I keep trying to tell you – just let them paint you as a bully – keeps people from messing with you.”
“In both directions,” Kev added on. “Don’t get boxed out of endorsements getting influenced by this nigga.”
“Me?!” Thierry feigned confusion. “If anything, Cross is the bad influence – sleeping with trainers, punching coaches…”
“Wow, not you making it sound like it’s a habit?” I spoke up, laughing. “It was a one-time lapse in judgement.”
Thierry sucked his teeth. “You hit one time?”
“Fine – seven or eight,” I admitted. “But still a lapse in judgement. I’m a changed man.”
“Not too changed, I hope,” Kev said. “We need Crossover Calvin back in the damn paint. Bad.”
I chuckled. “Yeah… I saw the film from those last games of the season.”
“Whoa – no shit talking until you’ve racked up some stats,” Thierry said, and I chuckled.
“Fair enough.”
We shot the shit a bit longer before peeling off to the showers, and then on to the recovery room for me. Ice baths were never fun, but they made it where you’d actually be able to move the next day, which was good enough for me.
It wasn’t until I was heading to my car, leaving the practice facilities, that I was able to check my phone. I had more notifications than I cared more, mostly from social media, which was getting closer by the day to annoying me so bad I just took it all off my phone.
I checked in with my mom, who’d made a habit of sending me a prayer via text every day – not anything she copied from the internet either, her words, her desires for me, her encouragement. I wouldn’t front… it actually did a lot for me.
If nobody else was in my corner, her, and my sister?
Always holding it down.
And then there was Amelia.
“Please tell me you made a million goals today. --Li-Li.”
That was the text I had from her, immediately brining a grin to my face once I was settled in the car. It was from nearly an hour ago, so she was probably home and settled as well by now.
“Goals? Please be serious.” was all I texted back, knowing I was going to call as soon as I got to my place in Blackwood.
Except, she beat me to it.
“You’re focused on the wrong thing, Cross,” she said. “Goals, homeruns, whatever – I need some good news.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, frowning not just at her words, but… hm. Something in her voice.
“It has just been… a day. We had an app outage during a walk through with Rori Martin for the integration.”
“I thought you were supposed to do stuff like that in a… test environment?” I offered, recalling a conversation we’d had.
“Thank you for the confirmation that you actually listen when I talk,” Amelia said. “But, we were using a test environment for that… while the live site went down. I was mortified. And panicking, because every second we’re down, we’re losing money, and customer trust, and just ugh.”
“So it’s still down right now?”
“No – Rori helped us figure it out. She’s still a developer you know, and she had a major outage issue happen with her app before, so she was able to kind of… calm me down I guess. But those hours while it wasn’t working… talk about crying, screaming, throwing up.”
“Ah man – I’m glad it’s fixed, but that’s fucked up. What was the issue – or is that too technical?”
“Above my pay grade,” she answered. “I’m just glad they fixed it – and now I have to figure out how to make it right with the customers who were affected by the outage.”
“Make it right how?”
“I don’t know,” she whined. “Discounts, bonuses, groveling apology email? I don’t know,” she repeated. “This sucks ass. Anyway—you never answered me earlier. How many homeruns today.”
“Baskets,” I corrected. “And… enough to be pretty sure I’ll be in the starting lineup.”
“Awww, congratulations! How do you feel?”
“Exhausted. They ran our asses in the ground today – I had to do the damn ice bath.”
“Oh nooo,” she groaned. “And here I am calling to complain like you don’t have your own stuff.”
“What? Don’t even play with me like that,” I chuckled. “Your shit is way worse – and even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t erase that your day sucked. And you can say that.”
“My day fucking sucked,” she immediately shot back, laughing, even as her voice cracked.
The day’s workout was nothing compared to how tight that made my chest feel.
“Amelia…”
“Do not make me cry again,” she fussed, clearing her throat. “I just shook the headache off. I’m fine.”
“I know you don’t I believe that.”
“Well, I need to believe it, so…”
The wobble in her voice was the only reason I didn’t push it.
I let her change the subject.
Let her end the call.
While I was in the parking lot of our building.
I waffled a bit over how she would take me popping up on her like this – I’d definitely let her believe I was referring to my place in Blackwood when I told her I parked. It could be read as deception, which wouldn’t mix well with the hesitance she’d already been feeling about… everything.
I turned the car back on, ready to take my ass back where I was supposed to be.
Then I thought about her voice cracking.
Don’t make me cry again.
Damn crybaby.
I shook my head, and turned the car back off.
Went to her door.
And the look on her face when she opened it – her swollen, glossy eyes, the way she flung herself into my arms…
Yeah.
Definitely the right decision.