Halloween #Hafton! Who’s ready to cheer the Green Boys to a ’ship? #dontworryaboutmylovelife
@Hafton101:
Rumor has it that @SonnyB_Knocknboots has gone soft and let @BallerSteele out of the bet. Maybe he’s in love? #steelenolongercelibate?
Blane
S unday mornings in the field house had turned into a regular thing for Mo and me. We’d meet there around eight, bust each other up in one-on-one, and hit the gun before eating our weight at the diner.
Sober and clearheaded, but fucked in the head all the same, I made my way to the court on the Sunday after the Halloween party. The air was chilly, and despite living for three years up north, I was cold. I tossed my hood up, pulling the strings tight, thinking maybe it would squeeze some sense into my head.
For Christ’s sake—forgive me, Lord—I was a wanted man, and there was no need to get caught up on some little chippie.
But there was. She might be a little sprite in stature, but she was a giant when it came to personality. And curves.
The back door to the field house clanked shut behind me as I made my way to the locker room. Banging my palm into my locker, I threw my bag in, and grabbed a pair of my practice shoes and made my way to the couches to lace them up.
The TV was on and the place was immaculate with its dark green wooden benches and matching leather couches. The lockers lined up along the wall with a small monitor above each one, flashing our picture and number. The place was obscene, considering I grew up in a trailer park outside Jacksonville.
The good thing was the locker room still smelled fresh and clean with the regular season two weeks away.
“You in here, Steele?” a grumbly, ragged voice called.
“What the fuck, Mo?”
I stared at my teammate and friend in disbelief. His face was a mangled mess. His eye was almost swollen shut, and if his skin wasn’t so damn dark, he would have one hell of a shiner.
He slumped down on the couch across from me. “Demetri found out.”
“Yeah, I can see that. What the hell? When?” I leaned forward on my knees and waited for him to answer.
“Well, you were all pussified over the radio chick, so it must have been when you slipped out to call her. I went outside to toss some trash, and fucking D sneaked the hell up on me and gave it to me good. Then he said it was over and I better do right by his sister.”
“She told him?” I relaxed back into the couch and made myself comfortable, not sure if we were going to play.
Mo nodded. “That’s why my voice is all screwed, ’cause she and I got into such a screaming match. Fuck, I’m an idiot. Who the hell gets into a screaming match with a pregnant chick?”
“Woman. I think woman may be more appropriate.”
“Shut the fuck up with all your feminist bullshit. Sonny was right . . . you’re going soft.”
“Listen to who’s talking,” I shot back.
He laughed. “Don’t! It hurts when I squeeze my eye like that.”
“Wimp.”
“Want me to give you one? Might make you look tough to your fans.”
“Please, I took care of Sonny. Told him he’d get an exclusive after we won the ’ship if he laid off the intern and me, let me see if there was something there. Of course, I also suggested he lighten up on her at work, and then like a fool, I accidentally mentioned it to her. So there’s no chance now.”
Mo smirked at me and then grimaced, reaching up to gently prod at his eye. “You’re even worse than me when it comes to the ladies. Didn’t they teach you any moves down south?”
I stood. “Shut it. I have plenty of moves; I’m just getting in touch with my Southern gentleman side.”
He stood and twisted his torso a few times. “We gonna play?”
“You up for it?”
“Hell yeah.”
We wound our way through the locker area and out to the tunnel.
“Hey, did you make up with D’s sister? Angela, right?” I asked as we walked toward the hardwood.
“We made up, and I’m doing the right thing.”
I slapped him
@Hafton101:
Rumor has it that @SonnyB_Knocknboots has gone soft and let @BallerSteele out of the bet. Maybe he’s in love? #steelenolongercelibate?
Blane
S unday mornings in the field house had turned into a regular thing for Mo and me. We’d meet there around eight, bust each other up in one-on-one, and hit the gun before eating our weight at the diner.
Sober and clearheaded, but fucked in the head all the same, I made my way to the court on the Sunday after the Halloween party. The air was chilly, and despite living for three years up north, I was cold. I tossed my hood up, pulling the strings tight, thinking maybe it would squeeze some sense into my head.
For Christ’s sake—forgive me, Lord—I was a wanted man, and there was no need to get caught up on some little chippie.
But there was. She might be a little sprite in stature, but she was a giant when it came to personality. And curves.
The back door to the field house clanked shut behind me as I made my way to the locker room. Banging my palm into my locker, I threw my bag in, and grabbed a pair of my practice shoes and made my way to the couches to lace them up.
The TV was on and the place was immaculate with its dark green wooden benches and matching leather couches. The lockers lined up along the wall with a small monitor above each one, flashing our picture and number. The place was obscene, considering I grew up in a trailer park outside Jacksonville.
The good thing was the locker room still smelled fresh and clean with the regular season two weeks away.
“You in here, Steele?” a grumbly, ragged voice called.
“What the fuck, Mo?”
I stared at my teammate and friend in disbelief. His face was a mangled mess. His eye was almost swollen shut, and if his skin wasn’t so damn dark, he would have one hell of a shiner.
He slumped down on the couch across from me. “Demetri found out.”
“Yeah, I can see that. What the hell? When?” I leaned forward on my knees and waited for him to answer.
“Well, you were all pussified over the radio chick, so it must have been when you slipped out to call her. I went outside to toss some trash, and fucking D sneaked the hell up on me and gave it to me good. Then he said it was over and I better do right by his sister.”
“She told him?” I relaxed back into the couch and made myself comfortable, not sure if we were going to play.
Mo nodded. “That’s why my voice is all screwed, ’cause she and I got into such a screaming match. Fuck, I’m an idiot. Who the hell gets into a screaming match with a pregnant chick?”
“Woman. I think woman may be more appropriate.”
“Shut the fuck up with all your feminist bullshit. Sonny was right . . . you’re going soft.”
“Listen to who’s talking,” I shot back.
He laughed. “Don’t! It hurts when I squeeze my eye like that.”
“Wimp.”
“Want me to give you one? Might make you look tough to your fans.”
“Please, I took care of Sonny. Told him he’d get an exclusive after we won the ’ship if he laid off the intern and me, let me see if there was something there. Of course, I also suggested he lighten up on her at work, and then like a fool, I accidentally mentioned it to her. So there’s no chance now.”
Mo smirked at me and then grimaced, reaching up to gently prod at his eye. “You’re even worse than me when it comes to the ladies. Didn’t they teach you any moves down south?”
I stood. “Shut it. I have plenty of moves; I’m just getting in touch with my Southern gentleman side.”
He stood and twisted his torso a few times. “We gonna play?”
“You up for it?”
“Hell yeah.”
We wound our way through the locker area and out to the tunnel.
“Hey, did you make up with D’s sister? Angela, right?” I asked as we walked toward the hardwood.
“We made up, and I’m doing the right thing.”
I slapped him
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