Chapter 4
BYRON
My thoughtswhirl from this morning. I still haven’t processed Giana’s words and the way she rushed off. Fuck. I’m an idiot.
My phone pings. It’s Brandon sending me a reminder about picking him up for training. His BMW is in for service, and even when it’s not, we often share a ride since we usually stay back for a shooting session after practice. Throwing my training bag over my shoulder, I head to the car, tapping out a text to Brandon as I walk.
On my way.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up at the front of his condo. He throws his bag in the trunk and jumps into the passenger seat with the energy of a kid.
“Ready to slay?”
“I will beat your ass.”
He laughs as I merge into traffic, taking the route to the LA Sharks arena.
“Did Lottie call you?”
“Yeah.” His fingers thrum along the edge of the door handle. “She’s pissed.”
I shake my head. “She has more of Dad in her than I realized. Sorry you have to suffer her outbursts.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. She’s gotten out of hand. She came at me with what everyone in the office is saying, and I couldn’t give two fucks about their opinion. She wouldn’t come down as hard on you if she didn’t consider you family.”
Keeping my eyes on the road, I sense him staring at me.
“Lottie doesn’t treat me like a brother.”
I laugh. “I assure you, the new Lottie is testing all of us. If she hadn’t known you for seven years, she wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch.”
“She’s just doing her job. I can handle her wrath.”
“That’s big of you. If she gets out of hand managing you, I can tell her to back off.”
Brandon remains quiet for a moment, then says, “Hey, how did the coffee date go?”
I shrug. “Shorter than I anticipated. It’s going to take a while to get to know each other again.”
“She’s not into you.” He laughs and jabs my ribs.
“She is. She’s just forgotten how charming I can be.”
“Gonna bring out the big guns?”
I laugh at him. “We’ll see.”
After parking the car in the secure parking lot, we stride into the arena like it’s our second home—familiar and excited to be here. We take the underground tunnel, avoiding the office suites, to the changing room. LA Sharks memorabilia lines the walls. Famous names on jerseys hang high on parade, reminding everyone of the pride we have to play for the team.
My cubicle displays the number nineteen. It was also my number in college, and everything about it is lucky for me.
Brandon sits in his cubicle and pulls on his training top. Minutes later, we are on the court, just the two of us, surrounded by stands of empty seats.
We warm up in silence.
Heavy breathing fills the quiet arena, yet I can visualize the fans standing and screaming our names. The memory of winning spurs me on. We shoot, play one-on-one, and shoot some more. Before we call it a day, we hit the line for some foul shots. Brandon rebounds for me.
I make fifty shots, then we switch. He makes the first shot.
“What did you do last night?” I ask, throwing the ball back to him.
He shrugs, bounces the ball three times, then takes his shot.
Swish.
I throw it back.
“Stayed in and watched some footy.” He pauses. “AFL. Aussie footy.”
“It’s not football, man.” I grin at him. “How’s your team doing?”
“In the top four. Grand final is some weeks away.”
“I should go to a game with you sometime.”
“Mate, you’d love it. When I went home for a month, I got to some games. Next time, during our offseason, come with me. This time of year gets intense, and I love being here, but… I’m also pissed to be missing Mum’s sixtieth birthday.”
“You’re not going?”
“It’s in a week.” Dead in the heart of preseason games.
“Have you talked to Coach?”
“Nope.”
Swish. He claps his hands, demanding the ball. I get that it’s a hard conversation for him, and I know he misses home. I keep passing. Brandon doesn’t miss a shot.
On Wednesday morning,I pick up Brandon, and we head to a peak performance center in Santa Barbara to train. This place is like being on a movie set. Tiny silver balls that hook up to a bunch of cameras get attached to our joints. The staff studies how we jump, run, dart, and leap. The data is analyzed, and the results offer ways to improve our bodies and modify our training to gain strength while minimizing the risk of injury. The intensity of pro-level basketball leaves us at risk for major knee trauma, and I’m doing everything I can to reduce my chance of injury and missing games. Preseason after the offseason is when I build strength and not only on the court. This preseason, I improved by shifting my mechanical baseline.
We switch into training mode. Quick feet are essential in this game, and the performance center equipment and drills enhance that skill. I need to catch my breath. I stop to grab a towel and wipe the sweat from my face. Brandon grunts on the opposite side of the room. He has a three-foot iron triangle with a bar of one-hundred-pound weights on top. With a thick leather belt around his torso and a rope connecting him to the weight, he drags the weight behind him. Like a runner springing from the start blocks, he remains low to power forward.
I continue with my footwork drills before heading to the strength corner.
I groan as I finish the one-hundredth pull-up, drop down from the bar, and clap my hands together.
“Looking fine, Byron, looking fine,” Nate says. I laugh at his enthusiasm.
He holds up his tablet. “The data is showing a slight twist in your left knee as you leap up. We want to rectify your technique, so I’m emailing you some exercises for when you’re in the gym and for drills on the court.”
“My knee?” My knee feels freaking great.
“We think it’s stemming from your ankle.”
The fuck?
I glance down at my feet.
Nate rests a hand on my shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. It’s why we’re here to prevent any potential injuries by improving your training. There are a couple of minor adjustments. You’re otherwise in perfect shape.”
I wipe my face with the towel. “Thanks, man.”
Nate stressed that it’s injury prevention data, but my gut is in knots. Ankle sprains are common, and a career-ending injury is my worst nightmare.
As we walk back to my Porsche, Brandon taps my back. “You okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I’m doing my best to push out any negative thoughts.
On the drive back to LA, I barely speak to Brandon. He closes his eyes, takes a nap in the car, and wakes when we’re close to home. He opens his cell.
“It’s my mum’s birthday,” he says quietly. “She’s sent photos of the family dinner.” Brandon swipes across the screen.
“Today?”
“Well, today for us. These were taken last night.” He looks up and grins. “You know us Aussies are from the future.”
“You idiot.” I laugh once, but he’s back to swiping his phone. “The party is this weekend, right?” He nods without taking his focus from the screen. “Why don’t you go back and surprise her?”
He stares at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
“Seriously, Brandon. My dad can talk to the coach. It’s one weekend—one preseason game. Being with your family is more important. We can chat to Dad tonight over dinner.”
Mom has askedthe entire family over. Brandon and I arrive before Jobe and Charlotte. Laughter comes from the family room. Franklin and Penny are on the couch with Mom while Dad pours his standard predinner whiskey and hands Franklin a glass. My father and brother wear their standard trouser-and-shirt dinner attire despite the weather being above ninety. Brandon and I are dressed in chinos and a T-shirt, standard smart casual.
Mom springs from the white suede sofa to greet us. “Byron. Brandon.” She hugs me and kisses my cheek, then moves to Brandon. She treats him like he’s one of the family.
“We could hear your laughter a block away,” I jest. I shake hands with Dad and Franklin, then lean down to kiss Penny on the cheek. Penny smiles up at me and rubs her rounded belly.
“Byron, it’s good to see you.” Her bright eyes sparkle. “We were laughing at how this little one will soon be putting her dirty hands all over Grandma’s couch.”
“His dirty hands,” Franklin corrects.
Mom places a hand on Penny’s knee. “And I’ll be delighted to see the dirt if it means our grandchild is here with us.”
I look at Penny, then at Franklin. “Do you know?”
Franklin stares at Penny, and she giggles at her husband.
“I went alone to my last appointment, and I tease Frank that I know the gender. I keep changing from saying he to she.” Their cheesy love is sometimes sickening, but if I were to find love, I hope we are as happy as Franklin and Penny.
“Franklin, next time you make Penny’s appointment your priority,” Mom scolds.
Franklin raises his arms. “I was in New York. Penny said she was fine to go alone.”
“Of course, she’s going to say she’s fine. You should arrange your travel around Penny. She’s carrying your child.”
Penny giggles. “It’s fine, Sophia. I told him to go.” She continues rubbing circles over her stomach. “I love seeing him get into trouble.”
Franklin arches one eyebrow at his wife.
I grin at Franklin. “Not going to say something back?”
Ever since he married Penny, he never argues with her. She has calmed the ruthless negotiator, and he sees her as a life force. In a way, she is, now that she is carrying his kid.
“No, but I will to you. At least you didn’t wear sweatpants to dinner.”
I chuckle. “It’s summer. Why are you in trousers?”
“Brandon,” Mom says, interrupting us. “You’re quiet this evening. Is everything okay?”
“I apologize, ma’am.” He runs his fingers through his blond waves. “I’m tired from training.”
“It’s BJ’s mom’s sixtieth birthday today. The celebrations are this weekend.” The room turns quiet. Everyone stares at Brandon.
“Oh, darling. You should go back.”
Brandon’s gaze lowers to hide his disappointment.
“He has a game, Mom.”
Mom stares at Dad. “Carson, you can talk to the coach about Brandon having one game off. This is important.”
I hide my grin. That was all I had to say for my mom to get this moving ahead.
“Possibly, but the coach’s decision is final.” Dad rolls the ice in his whiskey glass. “I don’t interfere with team matters.”
“Rubbish. You’ll call him tonight.” She turns to Brandon. “You will be there for your mother, Brandon. I promise.”
Franklin coughs. “Maybe I can help?” He glances at Penny. “I have a quick trip to Australia and Singapore this weekend. It’s the last time I travel before Penny has the baby.”
“Franklin, you shouldn’t be going away. Penny is due in three weeks.”
I can’t hide the smirk on my face. My perfect brother has been chastised more times tonight than in his lifetime.
Mom stands. “We need to move to the dining room. Lola will be waiting for us.”
Dad stays back to make the call, so I keep in step alongside my mother. “Is Lottie coming tonight?”
“She is. I have no idea why she’s late.”
I drop back to walk alongside Brandon. Thanks, he mouths.
We take our seats at the table. Lola serves our appetizers of smoked salmon, prawns, capers, and a tangy side salad. As Lola clears our plates, Charlotte arrives.
“Lottie,” I pipe up. “Your punctuality is of concern.” It’s the same words she has used toward me many times.
She rolls her eyes. “I was working, you idiot.” She greets the table, stops at Penny, and wraps her arms around her shoulders. “When do we get to meet the little one?”
“Three more weeks,” Penny says with a grin. “I’m tired and uncomfortable but excited as well.”
“Well, I can’t wait. Talking of waiting, where is Jobe?”
“He’s tied up with the London contract,” Dad replies.
“London? What’s happening in London?” Charlotte takes a seat next to me and gives me a slight elbow.
“Commercial property investment opportunities,” Dad enthusiastically says as though he could talk more about it, but my mother gives him a look.
“Cool.” Charlotte is as disinterested as me. “How was training today?”
“Good. Nothing to report.” I’m not ready to share the data on my ankle with anyone. It’s a precaution, and we’re rectifying any potential problems.
She glances at Brandon, who is staring at his dinner plate. “BJ.” She waits for him to look at her. “Did you work on your leap?”
“Jesus, Lottie.” I shake my head. “You’re not our coach.”
Her brow pinches. “Why are you in such a bad mood?”
Dad grunts. “Please stop acting like teenagers. Excuse me while I take this.”
“Carson, no cell phones at dinner,” Mom says exasperatedly.
“That’s great news. I’ll pass it on.” Dad gestures to Brandon. “You’re not required to attend the game. Neither is Byron. Coach is playing the two rookie guards.”
“What?” Charlotte’s eyes round. “What did I miss?”
“It’s my mum’s birthday,” Brandon says, all white teeth showing. He looks at my father. “Thank you, sir.”
Dad pats Mom’s hand. “It was an important call.”
Lola brings out the lamb with multiple side dishes. “Thank you, Lola,” Mom says gratefully.
Brandon is still grinning. “Now to book flights home.”
“BJ,” Franklin says from the other end of the table. “I’m taking the private jet to Australia. You’re welcome to join me.” He glances at Mom. “I’m sorry, but this trip is a necessity… four days at most. Penny knows to call you if she needs anyone.”
“Thanks a million,” Brandon says. “I don’t know what to say except thank you. My mum will be surprised to see me. And your private jet…” He’s smiling like he’s won the freaking championship.
“It’s okay,” Penny says to Mom. “Zara is staying over, and my mom will come if I need her.”
Mom reaches for Penny’s hand. “You can call me anytime. I’m more than happy to come to you.”
“Same,” Charlotte pipes up. “But Australia? If Frank’s going for business and BJ is hitching a ride, maybe I could tag along? This could be great PR for the team. Australian LA Sharks star heads home for his mother’s birthday, team supports family.”
“This is not about the team, darling. It really is about family,” Mom says gently.
“After the scandal these two idiots created, we could do with some good publicity to rebuild the team’s wholesome image.”
“Do you have to keep bringing up the past?” Brandon murmurs, lowering his gaze. “You’re welcome to come, Charlotte, if you think it’s best.”
They’ll kill each other by the end of the trip.
“Are you coming, Byron?” Franklin asks.
“And start a war? No, thank you.”
Usually, I would be disappointed in not being named on the team. Not this time.
Giana is home, and I have something to prove that’s not on a basketball court.