Chapter 2
“The Mercenary does it again. Your tenth double double this year, and it doesn’t seem like you’re slowing down any time soon. However, you missed all of your free throws, and have no assists. Why is it so hard for you to be a team player?” This bitch had me fucked up.
“Did I not just carry them mufuckas on my back?” You could tell they were shocked at my response, but it was the truth.
“Devin, we’re on live television. You know you can’t say that.”
“Then stop asking me shit you already know the answer to.” I could tell she was pissed, but so was I.
“Being a bad boy is only going to get you kicked out of this league. You need media relationships-…” I cut her off quick.
“I don’t need shit. Listen, you can’t appreciate the positives of my game, but want to point out what I didn’t do.
Are you interviewing anybody else on my team even though they decided not to show up today?
No, you’re criticizing me for not crying about it and taking over.
You know me and you know that ain’t how I get down.
So, if you want some politically correct answer, talk to somebody else.
” I walked off and headed towards the back when someone caught my eye.
She was staring at me nervously, and a feeling shot through me that I couldn’t explain.
Shorty kind of looked like Brianna, but I wasn’t sure if it was her.
I often thought about her from time to time, but I had to eventually let it go.
When I pulled off from her that night, I assumed I would see her at the graduation, but she didn’t show up.
Once I made it to the league, I had my people look for her, but they couldn’t find shit on her ass.
It was like she disappeared off the face of the earth.
I always felt like she was the one that got away, but I didn’t get the chance to cry over spoiled milk since pussy was thrown at me daily.
Even though I wasn’t in anything serious, every chick I laid with swore we were involved, which didn’t help with my media drama.
I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, so I stood there and waited to see if she would approach me. Speak or something. She turned her head and continued to talk to the girl she was with, so I assumed she was just another groupie wanting to get chose.
One of the players on the Bulls gave her a quick hug before heading over to go through the tunnel, so I stopped him. I didn’t want to leave anything to chance; I needed to be sure.
“Hey, who is that you just hugged?”
“Blaise? She’s our top sports anchor here.”
“Is that her last name?” He laughed like he couldn’t believe I didn’t know who she was.
“Naw. Her name is Blaise Monroe.” I looked at her again impressed. She was fine, but she wasn’t who I was looking for.
“Damn, nigga. How you don’t know Blaise?
Maybe you should quit cursing out all the media and you would know who she is.
” A Hispanic player from the Bulls said before laughing.
He was about to lose that smile real quick.
Reaching back, I punched him in the mouth.
Everyone ran over when the fight broke out including the media.
“We both might be minorities, but don’t ever feel comfortable calling me no nigga.” Blaise looked at me disgusted, and that pissed me off more. Storming off, I walked into the locker room and coach was appalled. “Fine me. I got it.” That was all I said before walking off to shower.
I know the first chance they got, they was going to trade my ass.
I was a shooting guard for the Miami Heat, and while I was the only reason our ass was a third seed, they was sick of my shit.
I was deemed the bad boy of the league and it’s also how I got my name “The Mercenary”.
In their eyes, all I gave a fuck about was myself and my contract I wasn’t a team player.
On top of that, I didn’t take shit off nobody.
Media, teammates, or bitches. I seemed to stay in the media for negative reasons, but I never let it get to me.
They never attempted to know the real me, and that was on them.
Climbing on the bus, I sat down as I scrolled my phone.
Videos of me fighting had already made it all over the internet.
“I don’t know how I’m here getting on the bus, since I didn’t show up.” One of my teammates was talking shit referencing my interview.
“We may as well sit on the bench and let Mighty Mercer play by himself.” Another teammate joined in, and I was trying my best not to send this bitch up.
“Mannn, I’m just here so I don’t get fined.
He got it.” When I heard my nigga, Nock join in, I threw my headphones on and zoned out.
They ass was offended, but nothing I said was wrong.
I scored fifty eight of the seventy total points, and on top of that we lost to the Bulls.
Yeah, I could have gone about it differently, but I was tired.
This shit happened more frequently than not, and a nigga couldn’t keep playing like this.
I would burn out quick, and I wasn’t trying to have the game retire me.
Closing my eyes, I thought about Blaise Monroe.
She looked like a more mature and grown up version of Brianna.
Shorty crossed my mind from time to time, and I had no idea why.
I’ve had one night stands, but none of them was because the chick wanted it that way.
I’ve never had a mufucka one and done me.
They usually go out of their way to try and stick around because they see me as a meal ticket.
She didn’t seem like the hoe type, or the kind of chick that was sexually free.
Feeling my phone go off, I looked down at the screen.
A couple of my hoes texted me, but it was my moms text that had me falling out laughing.
After the night I had, I needed that shit.
She always seemed to know what to say. Even going through her own situation, she always made sure I was good.
A couple of months ago, my moms had a stroke.
Being on the road most of the time, I couldn’t be there for her like I wanted, so I hired around the care nursing.
I had real shit going on in my life, so I didn’t give a fuck what these mufuckas was talking about. Putting my phone up, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. Blaise crossed my mind again as I tried my best to erase the events from tonight from my mind.