Fallon
“Iused to be in a lesbian relationship. Not with a woman, but with a man who was a little bitch,” Kennedy happily announces to Shay.
Shay holds her stomach in laughter. Kennedy constantly cracks lesbian jokes in front of Shay, and they wildly amuse her.
We’re standing in line, ready to make our way out of the locker room for our home opener.
I know Kennedy is attempting to lighten everyone’s nerves.
Without realizing it, she’s the team leader.
The younger players look up to her, and the veterans admire her work ethic and on-court contributions.
Kennedy isn’t the flashy player who racks up points or pops three-pointers, but she quietly contributes by getting rebounds and playing stellar defense.
I’m wearing a brand-new white Prada suit with matching Valentino heels which I dropped a small fortune on for my first game as a coach. I’m obsessed with this outfit. I’ve worked hard and decided to spoil myself, something I rarely do.
Kennedy was frothing at the mouth when she saw it.
She has such a good sense of style and is always dressed well.
Even for games—when in uniform—her hair is somehow still stylish.
She’s always got just a little bit of makeup on her face.
It’s not overdone, just the right amount to enhance her natural, exquisite beauty.
If she weren’t a basketball player, she could easily be a model, considering her height, body, and appearance.
When she walked into the locker room today, I could see bite marks all over the tops of her breasts. Jett would have a coronary if he saw them. Fortunately, her sports bra and jersey cover them now.
She mentioned having a “fun” morning. She then asked me about my love life. I hope she didn’t see me sweating as I did my best to deflect the question. I truly hate lying to her, but I equally understand why Jett doesn’t want her to have to hide anything from Pierce.
I can’t help but run my fingers over her shiny, dark ponytail. “You have the prettiest hair. How do you get it so straight and tame?”
She smiles. “It’s a new straightener I have. I can give you the name if you want.”
I nod. “Sure. You’re lucky you have that. When I was a kid, we had to use irons to straighten our hair.”
She lets out a laugh. “You sound like my dad.”
I gulp. Oh god, she’s right. That’s totally something he would say.
We’re announced onto the court to a huge sea of cheers and applause. I run out behind Coach Lakshmi at the end of the line. What a thrill this is to see twenty thousand people on their feet cheering for us.
I know where Jett is sitting. He’s not in his season ticket seats. He has three of those for him, Ginny, and Pierce, but Ginny needed an extra seat so he’s sitting with Vance on the other side of the arena in floor seats.
I quickly find him wearing Kennedy’s jersey, standing and clapping proudly, instantly bringing a smile to my face. He’s so damn cute. Ironically, he’s only a few seats away from Harper, who is grinning from ear to ear with pride. Her face right now is exactly why I took this job.
We’re playing against Kennedy’s former team. I know she has sour grapes about them sending her to Philly. She originally didn’t want to play here, but I think she’s happy about it now. She’s certainly thriving.
I notice Kennedy staring daggers at her mother. She’s seated between Pierce and a guy who must be half Ginny’s age. Maybe it’s one of Pierce’s friends, though he looks a little older than eighteen.
“Who’s that?” I can’t help but ask her.
“My fucking biological mother and her boy toy of the week. She’s a piece of shit.”
Pierce looks miserable. What is Ginny doing? Why would she parade someone in front of Pierce like this, given his issues? I don’t think Jett knows anything about it. He would have mentioned it to me.
A ball from the other team’s warm-up line errantly bounces our way. Kennedy picks it up and throws it extremely hard at Diane Garma from the other team.
Diane practically snarls at Kennedy as she looks her up and down. “If you spent as much time practicing basketball as you do in front of a mirror, this team wouldn’t have booted your ass.”
Kennedy gives her a death stare and yells out, “Bitch, if I looked like you, I’d avoid mirrors too. I’m a goddamn masterpiece. I owe it to the public to keep this art in pristine condition.”
Diane withers away, and I inwardly laugh. Kennedy Jeffries is a trip. If I were the girls in this league, I wouldn’t fuck with her.