Forbidden Hoops

1. Givens

GIVENS

"NBA superstar Givens Robbins is in trouble again-" I cut the TV off before the stupid-ass newscaster could start up with his bullshit.

Every fuckin' time I turned that shit on, I got mad. My name stayed in muthafucka’s mouth, yet not one of them knew me or my story.

They knew the shit other people told them.

"You stay in fuckin' trouble," my teammate, Javien Walters, said as he walked through the locker room.

He sat on the bench next to me and smirked.

I hated his ass, had since the moment he signed with the Kings a few weeks ago.

Javien came into the league thinking he was the best thing moving, and as a result, was jumping from team to team, trying to prove he was something he wasn't. "Pyrite gonna come in here showing his ass. "

"Stone don't pay my fuckin' bills, so I don't give a damn," I grunted as I swiped through my phone.

My agent was supposed to get back to me about a possible business move, but my mind was racing with ideas.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my time with the Kings and the championships we'd won, but if they weren't talking about the money I wanted, this wasn't where I needed to be.

"He's the team's owner, so he is the one who pays your bills," Javien replied, and I shook my head.

His young ass didn't know shit about the game or the politics behind it.

If anything, I paid his bills because if it weren't for the work I put in, he wouldn't be in the position he was in. We scratched each other's back at this point. Pyrite knew my plans didn't involve staying in the NBA for much longer. I'd give whomever I was signed to another three, possibly four rings; then, I was retiring. I would want it to be with the Kings since I’d only ever been with them, but if it weren’t meant to be, I’d move on. I’d been playing for almost fifteen years. My time was coming to an end.

"Yael, stop fuckin' talkin' to me before I break your jaw, young buck." I dropped my phone into my gym bag, which sat between my feet, and then dropped my head.

"I’m just saying!”

“You not sayin’ shit I want to hear.” I didn’t lift my head to even give him that much respect.

“So, shut the fuck up before your mouth is wired shut for the next two months.” The gleam of my gun caught my eye, and I smirked when I grabbed it.

“That or take a bullet for pissing me off.” I stood, gun at my side, and closed the distance separating us. “Which one are you trying to do?”

“Man, you trippin',” Javien said nervously. I could see the fear in his eyes, but I didn’t give a fuck. I’d already warned him; that was the most I would do today.

I pushed the barrel of my gun under his chin and smirked. “I know you heard the rumors about what went down between me and my teammates that I didn’t like. You wanna be added to that list?”

Javien licked his lips but didn’t say anything. His eyes told me all I wanted to know: he knew who the fuck I was and what I was capable of, and he didn’t want these problems.

“I’m going to advise you one time and one time only, stay the fuck outta my way, don’t say shit to me, and live your damn life.

You only need to look in my direction when we are on the court.

Do you understand?” I questioned. He nodded, and I smirked.

“Good, now get the fuck on before I show you how ignorant I really am.”

I pushed Javien back, making him stumble, and shook my head.

His stupid ass was going to be a problem; I could see that now.

If I was going to stay on this team, he needed to know that I ran this shit.

Not him. I grabbed my gym bag off the floor, stuffed my gun back into it, and headed toward the court to blow off some steam.

While I walked from the weight room to the court, I put on my headphones and started listening to Focus’s newest CD.

His music had grown on me over the last few years, and I kept everything he put out on heavy rotation.

The court was empty, as I knew it would be, because none of my teammates spent as much time there as I did.

I dropped my bag on the announcer's table and connected my phone to the speaker. I was the only person here, so I could blast that shit as loud as I wanted, and no one would complain. After I was set up, I grabbed a ball from the rack I’d left in the same spot last night and headed to the baseline.

Most people didn’t think that pro ballers did drills, but I did.

I was a creature of habit and did all my basic shit like sprints, suicides, and slides before I even started my shooting routine.

Like any other time I was on the court, I drowned out the bullshit that was attached to my name.

Nothing else existed, not the reporters telling some bullshit ass story, or my mama and sister begging for money.

My no-good-ass baby mama was either dropping my daughter off to me out of the blue or keeping her away from me completely.

Nothing else mattered. All I had to do was focus on the Spalding in my hand and putting it through the net.

The music shut off, and I turned to see Pyrite Stone standing near the announcer's table with a mug on his face. I wasn’t worried about him; my eyes were locked on the beauty beside him.

I knew her name and saw her around the gym, court, and on TV.

Mercy DeCorte was a WNBA superstar and fine as fuck.

I wiped the sweat from my face with my shirt and approached them.

Pyrite’s eyes were locked on his phone, so he didn’t see me checking out Mercy, but I didn’t give a damn if he did.

She wore ball shorts, a black tank top, and signature shoes.

I couldn’t even front. I thought it was dope as fuck that she had her own shoe line because the WNBA, for a time, was underrated.

Mercy was recognized as the best player on the court, which she deserved.

“We gotta talk,” Pyrite says. I nodded at Mercy but didn’t say anything to her, mainly because I was pissed. The way she was standing so close to Pyrite had me ready to snatch her ass up.

“What’s the word?” I replied.

“I’m going to shoot around while y'all talk,” Mercy says, dismissing herself.

Even though I didn’t want to, I watched her walk to the ball rack, grab one, and head to the court.

To my surprise, she started doing drills.

Seeing her move with ease and grace had my dick bricking up in my shorts, and I had to adjust my shit a few times before turning to face Pyrite.

“Your lawyer hit me up about your contract,” Pyrite says as he stuffed his phone into his pocket.

“Yeah.” I nodded, knowing not to give anything away. Pyrite and I were cool, but this was business.

“I’m going to counter it,” he said with a shrug, and again, I nodded because he wouldn’t be a good businessman if he didn’t. “But how I’m comin’ will be worth it.”

“What you got up your sleeve?” I questioned.

“I’m offering you a quarter partnership in an expansion team,” he replied, and I lifted my brow in question.

“No more money, the deal stays the same, but you will be stepping into a different phase in your career. You’ve already said your time playing is coming to an end in the next few years.

I’m just trying to set you up for after that. ”

“You’re going to take on another NBA team?” I asked with a laugh, and Pyrite shook his head no. “Then what kind of team?”

“WNBA,” he says, nodding towards Mercy. “I just locked her in for the KC Queens.”

My eyes went back to Mercy, and I watched her shoot.

I knew she was good, if not great, but that was a lot of pressure to put on any player.

I knew from personal experience with my team.

The KC Kings was the youngest team in the NBA.

Pyrite approached me during my senior year of college and asked if I was interested in playing professional basketball.

At first, I wasn’t, but he sat me down, showed me his vision, and told me I was the man who’d make it a reality.

For a young twenty-two-year-old, it was a task I didn’t think I could take on, but Pyrite promised me that he’d have my back the entire time, and he’d been a man of his word since then.

Now, he was taking on a new task and trying to bring me with him.

“Man, let me-“

“Listen, you don’t have to give me an answer right now. I just wanted you to know my plans, and I didn’t want you to be shocked when I returned your contract. Think this over and tell me your answer in a few days at the cookout.”

“I’m invited even though I might turn you down?” I asked with a smirk.

“You ain’t gonna turn me down,” Pyrite laughed.

“You sure about that?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said, nodding. “You’re about your money, and your old ass is already thinking of your escape plan. This could be it.” He nodded towards Mercy, who was now shooting around. “She’s your way out.”

“You got a lot of faith in her,” I countered. Even though Pyrite and I were boys, I’d never seen him with a woman. A piece of me wondered if he was gay, but if he was, I was cool with that, too. Who he had in his bed was his business.

“You have no idea,” Pyrite said, and I lifted my brow in question at his tone.

Pyrite didn’t let too many people into his personal life; if he let Mercy in, she was something special to him.

His phone started ringing, and he sighed before he pulled it out of his pocket.

“I gotta head out, think that shit over and get back to me.”

“Yep.” We dapped each other up, and then Pyrite left the court.

Mercy and I stayed on our respective ends of the court for the next two hours and worked out. We never spoke to each other, but I was aware of her presence the entire time. Usually, someone being on the court with me was annoying, but Mercy being around made me work harder.

Three months later …