Chapter 19
Antonio
Nipsey Hussle’s “Dedication” blares across the pitch under dim lights. Sweat and exertion cling to the now-empty turf. The team and coaches left an hour ago. Only D and I are still here, a row of orange cones separating us.
I bob my head to the lyrics and tighten the harness across my bare chest, adjusting the compression shorts underneath my basketball shorts. I peek over at Darius, who gives me a nod. On my go, we take off.
Loaded sled sprints down a ten-yard runway isn’t what I’d call a fun Friday night. I’m tired as hell, but I’ll put in extra time after practice if D asks. He matches my speed and drops into a set of twenty push-ups before jogging back.
Show-off.
“Who you trying to impress? Your fan club president is right here,” I say, stretching my arms, exhausted from the day.
D unhooks the harness clinging to his drenched shirt and takes a towel to the sweat coating his chest and tatted arms. “Funny.” He rolls his eyes. “For real, though. I appreciate you for staying after.”
Darius, or D, and I both joined the team as free agents. We’re both pushing thirty and incorporate more training and recovery to compete with the younger guys. We eat right and stay in shape year-round so we can have a fighting chance of extending our careers.
The preseason cycle is winding down, but not the intensity.
Tactical training.
Endurance.
Agility.
Speed.
Match intensity.
The stakes are higher. So are the expectations.
Bro is a killer as a hooker. He wins the ball for us during scrums and is responsible for lineout throws to restart play. You have to be good at playing with your balls to make split-second decisions. D is a specialist who could teach a masterclass.
He usually can’t stick around after practice because of his daughter or the construction business he co-owns. How he juggles it all and still brings his A game is crazy. Like I said, he’s good with handling balls. Jokes aside, I look up to him. Well, down, since he’s five ten.
We walk our route to collect the cones. “How’s Aeris?”
He laughs, grinning from ear to ear about his daughter. “Ten going on forty. One of her friends, who’s a year older, just got her period.” He shudders. “I’m not okay.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Ain’t got no choice but to.” He shrugs. “Baby girl deserves the world. Whatever I don’t know, I’ll learn. Ms. Thomas keeps me right.”
D is a single dad. Aeris’s mom left when she was five and only calls when she remembers their daughter’s birthday.
He’s a year younger than me raising a whole child.
I can’t keep plants alive, and he’s out here learning about training bras and Common Core math.
Sometimes, he leaves Aeris with me or Kendrick while he works nights.
She’s finally playing Final Fantasy VII, the game that inspired her name.
I lock up the equipment we used and motion toward the locker rooms. “Will you be good this season, with coverage and stuff?”
He nods. “Yeah. She’ll stay home by herself more as she gets older. Ms. Thomas has a key in case of emergencies, and she’ll keep her during away games.”
“Don’t tell her daughter,” I chuckle. “Ms. Thomas is a respected block club leader, but Brianna is campaigning to be Aeris’s stepmama.”
“Don’t play. There’s no space in my freezer for any more home-cooked meals. You’d think somebody died the way she’s been hanging around the house. The last time she came over, she brought light bulbs.”
We bust out laughing. That’s a new one.
“Maybe it’s time to try out women in their early fifties.” I retrieve my bag from my locker and pull out a fresh shirt. The shower pressure here is shit. Driving home musty it is.
D throws a vest over his thermal. “I’m good on that. Speaking of trying out…”
“Don’t start, Shemar,” I warn. If he wants to be an ass, two can play. “Don’t you have a Soul Train line to terrorize with your light skin behavior?”
“Man, fuck you,” he laughs, pushing a beanie over his low fade buzz cut. “I heard your friend is pretty. Maybe I should see if she wouldn’t mind playing house with me.”
“Keep playing and see if we don’t end up on Criminal Minds.” I slam my locker shut harder than necessary and stuff my arms into my jacket. “Miriam is off-limits.” D is a good dude, but I’ll be damned on her behalf.
Our staredown is reminiscent of Drumline. All that’s missing are drumsticks pointed at each other and our faces on a Thanksgiving meme about whose auntie makes better mac ’n cheese.
D rubs his jaw with a smirk. He’s what you’d call a pretty boy, but he can run his hands if necessary.
They’d find us knocked out on these benches tomorrow.
I play about a lot, but not Miriam. I have no say in who she’s with, but the idea of her entertaining anyone bothers me more than it should. Especially someone on my team.
“Chill.” His laugh is playful as he raises his hands. “You know I don’t move like that.”
“So move around.” I smile, brushing his shoulder on the way out. “Some of us got things to do besides help with homework.”
“Oh, this is wifey,” he says through a cackle.
I don’t bother looking back. “She’s a good friend.”
“We all have that someone we call.”
I shake my head. “Not her. We’re not like that.”
“So you like her like her.” He hits the lights while I get the alarm.
“I like my best friend, yes.” I lock the door behind me and autostart my car.
“Want Aeris to make you friendship bracelets?”
It’s not a bad idea.
“Could she?” I ask for real.
“Yeah, this is your future wife. Wait ’til I tell the guys.” He’s hollering now.
“Who’s ashamed of friendship bracelets?” I ignore his “future wife” comment.
People wear friendship bracelets, and Miriam likes throwbacks.
If she’s not watching Buffy, she’s searching for random shows, like The Secret World of Alex Mack.
The series aired the year I was born and had something to do with inherited superpowers.
Or was it chemical goo? I asked if Alex Mack was like Spider-Man and got the side-eye.
“The team would probably want bracelets too,” I add. Crafts are a surprising way to destress after a game. Fucking too, but that comes with more strings.
“Tell you what. Get the materials, and I’ll swing by tomorrow with Aeris.” D points at me. “You’re paying my baby.”
“Consider it an investment in her college fund.”
Miriam is out of town with her sister for the weekend. Catching up on sleep, laundry, and making sure no one blows up Steel House with the microwave sounds like a plan.