On The Rebound

by Alexandra Warren

  With a giggle of her own, Bleu insisted, “Kage, it’s only been two games. You gotta relax, bruh.”

  Her simple advice was sound, but her language had me frowning as I groaned, “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Bruh me like we homies or somethin’,” I told her, recognizing the subtle “friend zone” energy behind her words even as she continued acting oblivious when she asked, “We aren’t?”

  Shaking my head, I sighed, “You just had to kick a nigga while he’s already down, huh?”

  “Me considering you a homie is kickin’ you while you’re down?” she questioned with a hearty laugh. “And here I was thinking it was an upgrade.”

  “To you,” I argued, deciding to keep the energy light when I left off a little chuckle of my own before telling her, “But nah, I really do appreciate the advice, though.”

  She might’ve still been playing with my feelings, but I was grateful that she’d even entertained the conversation since it was everything I needed to hear. And while I could tell she was pleased to have helped me out a little bit, she still wasn’t quite back to the bubbly Bleu I’d become acquainted with, only reminding me of the sight I’d walked in on earlier once she hopped off her treadmill and sighed, “Talking someone through their shit is a hell of a lot easier than dealing with my own.”

  “I might have a little somethin’ for that,” I offered, Bleu’s face immediately filled with apprehension as I went on to explain, “There’s this spot one of my Silver Spartans owns with his son. One of those places where they give you your tool of choice to just go ham and fuck shit up. He said I’m welcome to come by any time I need to let off some steam.”

  When her facial expression didn’t change, I was forced to come with a more direct approach by suggesting, “We should go check it out tonight. After the game.”

  “Like… together?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, stepping off my machine as I asked, “I mean, why run ourselves into the ground on the treadmill when we can go bang some shit out instead?”

  Bleu’s wide-eyed response had me quick to clarify, “Not like, in a sexual way. Unless…”

  “Kage!”

  “Aight, aight. My bad. Got a little distracted,” I admitted with a chuckle, the smirk Bleu responded with letting me know I hadn’t completely ruined my chances when I proposed, “You should let me take you, though. As a friend.”

  Even if I didn’t want to only be her friend forever, I was willing to commit to the role for now if it meant Bleu being able to release some tension from all the bullshit she’d been dealing with as of late. But unsurprisingly, her skepticism still remained as she replied, “Kage, I don’t know. I mean, I appreciate the offer. But I’m really not trying to be seen out in public right now.”

  “Not even if I can get the place shut down just for us?”

  “Now you’re making it sound like a date,” she challenged with a frown that had me quick to chuckle and defend, “Ain’t nobody tryna be your rebound nigga, Bleu. I’m just tryna give you an outlet, as your homie.”

  The tag might’ve sounded shallow, but it was coming from a genuine place. And I was glad Bleu was finally beginning to recognize that, giving my offer some real thought when she mentioned, “I have always wanted to go to one of those places.”

  “And now you have the perfect opportunity, so…”

  “We’re not going together,” she stated firmly, that response alone leaving me a little confused until she bit into the corner of her lip and added, “But I guess I can meet you there.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, why not?” she decided as she grabbed her duffel bag, casually tossing it over her shoulder as she teased, “And besides, if you play tonight the way you’ve been playing all preseason, you’re probably gonna need to go and bang some shit out even more than I do.”

  “Oh, so now you got jokes, huh?” I asked with a smirk that I was happy to see her match as I walked with her to the workout room’s exit. But since she was the only one of us actually leaving, I stopped there, Bleu doing the same when she turned back my way and asked, “How am I supposed to know when to meet you? Or where to meet you?”

  “I’ll text you when the game is over.”

  With one eyebrow raised, she asked, “Text me at the number you and I both know you don’t have?”

  “Aight, so give me your number then,” I told her with my phone extended her way.

  Though she didn’t accept it without first warning, “Only if you promise not to send me any dick pics.”

  “Not even when you ask?”

  Instead of rolling her eyes annoyedly like usual, Bleu blushed and giggled when she said, “You really think you’re cute, huh?”

  “Nah, but I’m starting to think you do… friend.”

  This time, the tag made her smirk as she avoided responding to my claim in favor of demanding that I unlock my phone. And I did without thinking twice, handing it her way again as I told her, “That’s how I know we’re only friends for real. Cause I wouldn’t have done that shit so easily for any other woman.”

  Her smirk remained as she plugged her number in while asking, “Is that your way of tellin’ me you got something to hide?”

  “Nah, I’ma good boy,” I insisted with a sly grin that made her roll her eyes playfully as she handed my phone back and offered, “Good luck tonight, Mr. Steele.”

  “See you tonight, Ms. Taylor,” I responded, legit excited about the shit as I watched her fine ass walk away. But once she disappeared, I was reminded of why I’d shown up here in the first place; the mission to get my shit together that led me back to the treadmill for a few more sprints before I moved to do some light strength training and mobility work. Then I made my way out to the court to get some shots up, taking and making enough to feel good about without completely exhausting myself since that would’ve been hustling backwards.

  By the time I was finished, there were a few more people in the arena. But only one of them was surprised to see me, Niko lowkey sounding impressed about it when he acknowledged, “First one in the gym? I feel you.”

  “Yeah, man. Gotta get outta this funk so niggas know I’m for real,” I told him, watching him nod before I asked, “What you doin’ here already?”

  Laughing to himself, Niko shook his head and answered, “Man, Jayde’s ass had me on some wild shit last night that fucked my back up a little bit, so I came in early to get some treatment.”

  For the brief time that I’d known him, Niko had never been the type of nigga to kiss and tell. So I was honestly surprised he’d shared that much with me, my eyebrows raised as I dapped him up and replied, “I can’t even lie, Nik. That’s some senior citizen relationship goals type shit right there.”

  It must’ve been my energy that prompted him to explain, “Wait, nah. Not like that. We were on FaceTime watching Lemme Upgrade You with Will & Way, and she saw some shit she liked that made it urgent for me to go and rearrange some furniture in her living room for her since she’s not here to do it herself.”

  Now that I knew the truth, I wished I could’ve taken my dap back since, “That is... boring as hell, bruh. What the fuck?”

  My disappointed reaction only made him start laughing again as he admitted, “Love makes you do some crazy shit, fam. You’ll learn one day.”

  Knowing how fine Jayde was, I was tempted to ask him if it was less about love and more about the duets they performed horizontally. But since I didn’t want him getting all sensitive about the shit like Dre, I kept my comments to myself, instead choosing to focus on my game preparation as I spent what was left of the morning doing some rest and recovery work. Then, after a quick trip to the crib for a meal and a change of clothes, I made my way back to the arena to join my teammates for some pregame drills, feeling more relaxed than ever by the time the stands began to fill with fans later that evening.

  There wasn’t the lingering question of if I’d do well or not.

  There was
n’t the chatter of analysts playing in my head.

  There wasn’t the concern of my teammates and coaches turning against me.

  I’d turned the volume down on all that shit so that I could focus on doing what I did best in leaving everything I had on the court and encouraging my teammates to do the same, that energy carrying us to an easy victory that just so happened to be my best game thus far.

  Not that it took a lot to be better than the bullshit I’d been on at the start of preseason.

  Still, I was proud of myself for taking a step in the right direction. And I was even more grateful for Bleu’s advice that’d helped me get there.

  She was the first one on my mind once I got back to the locker room, not all that surprised to see my phone filled with notifications from different women congratulating me on the game and curious about my plans for afterwards. But I was getting ready to bypass all of that in favor of reaching out to Bleu until I felt an arm being wrapped around my shoulder, turning my head to find out it was our starting center, Zeb, who asked, “Aye, bruh. What we on tonight?”

  While I was known for getting into plenty of shit on my own, Zeb was a master at curating wild nights that turned into close calls no matter what city we were in. And even though it was those moments with him that made my rookie season memorable as hell, tonight I had to let him down easy when I finally answered, “You on ya own, big dog. I already got plans.”

  “Already got plans?” he repeated with a frown. “What, you got a girl now or somethin’?”

  Chuckling, I told him, “Nah, it’s nothin’ like that.”

  At least, not yet.

  And maybe it was that hopeful energy for the future that had Zeb unconvinced as he shook his head and groaned, “Damn. First Niko. Now you. This is some baby-back bullshit.”

  His word choice only made me laugh harder. “Relax, bruh. I’ll get up with you next time. I just got somewhere I need to be tonight.”

  Once again, he shook his head disappointedly. “Guess I gotta replace your ass with the rookie the same way he was almost about to replace your ass in the starting line-up.”

  “Aye, man,” I hollered, glad that I was able to laugh at his jab instead of the shit actually being true. But the thoughts of my improved play only brought me back around to what I was originally doing before he’d interrupted, finding Bleu’s name in my contacts so that I could send her a text.

  “You ready to go bang some shit out or what?” - Kage

  The response I received wasn’t the response I was expecting, a frown on my face as I read, “Oh, I thought that was canceled since you played all good tonight and whatnot.” - Bleu

  I was just getting ready to tell her that my play - for better or worse - had nothing to do with our plans when another text came through.

  “Kidding. Yeah, I’m ready. Send me the info :)” - Bleu

  “So she’s in a playful mood,” I thought, grinning like her emoji as I typed out the address and the time I’d be there to meet her. And once she responded with confirmation, it felt like I couldn’t get dressed fast enough, too hyped about what I hoped would be the start of a very close… friendship.

  Five

  “I can’t believe you’re really letting that little boy take you out on a date.”

  Every part of Katianna’s statement made me cringe, forced to defend myself for what felt like the hundredth time when I told her, “It’s not a date, Kat. And Kage is not a little boy.”

  Was he younger than the both of us?

  Yes.

  But at twenty-three years old and a muscular six foot three inches - thank you Wikipedia - there was nothing about that man that was little. Though, of course, those facts didn’t stop Katianna from whining, “He’s a baby, Bleu.”

  “He’s in his twenties just like me,” I clarified before quickly adding, “Which doesn’t even matter anyway because it’s not a date. We’re just going to the same place, as friends.”

  I knew no matter how many times I said that out loud, the elements screamed “date” way too much for Kat to believe me. But surprisingly, she didn’t call me out on that part, instead scowling when she asked, “But like, why do you even have to be friends with that nigga? He’s so annoying.”

  After last summer’s little incident with Dre, Kage was on Kat’s bad side indefinitely. And understandably so since the shit was not only incredibly childish on his part, but it had also put a bad light on the Nymphs organization during what ended up being their championship run. But after he’d spoken on it during our interview, I at least better understood where that nonsense had come from. And since he and Dre were cool now, there was really nothing for me to hold against him as I gave a nonchalant shrug and told Kat, “I’m friends with a lot of athletes.”

  “And yet, none of them have been able to take you out on a date before.”

  “Including him, because this is not a date,” I reminded her with a grin that only made her roll her eyes when she said, “Look. I know that shit with Todd is still bothering you, but there are other dicks out there you can use to get over it.”

  Giving an exaggerated gasp, I playfully brought a hand to my chest and asked, “Katianna Philisha Lloyd, are you suggesting that I’m meeting up with a new friend in hopes of getting some rebound dick?”

  “It’s literally the only thing that makes sense of you going out with Kage,” she answered dryly, clearly convinced that that was exactly what I was after when she continued, “And from that very, very specific viewpoint, I get it. His shit stays jumpin’ underneath those Trojans’ shorts, okay?”

  I would’ve been lying if I said I never noticed cause I most certainly had. But my opinion on it didn’t need to be stated for me to be able to tease, “I thought he was a little boy?”

  “In mind. Not dick.”

  Her explanation made me cackle as I groaned, “Anyway. Kage and I are just going to throw some hammers around, and that’s it.”

  “Oh, he’s gonna be throwing a hammer around alright,” she muttered teasingly, the slick comment making me scream-laugh her name to which she immediately responded, “What?! I’m trying my best to see it your way.”

  “No. You’re trying your best to see it your way, and that’s not what this is. I swear.”

  “Fine, Bleu,” she conceded. “Just make sure your ass is back in time for our flight in the morning cause I’m not holding up the jet for your wannabe cougar behind.”

  Having the opportunity to fly back home to New York on the Lloyd family’s private jet instead of dealing with all the hassle of the airport wasn’t an option I was taking for granted, really meaning it when I told Kat, “I’ll only be gone for like, two hours tops.”

  “Well I won’t be here when you get back. Just in case you need somewhere to pacify that little nigga with your pussy.”

  “Goodbye, Kat!” I squealed as I finally left her condo, my dressed down, semi-incognito look making me feel comfortable enough to take a Lyft instead of bothering Kat about car service. But I wished I would’ve just bitten the bullet after getting stuck with a driver who couldn’t seem to find the end of a sentence once he recognized who I was, talking my head off about every player on every professional sports team in Tennessee, both current and past.

  As a fellow sports nerd, I was honestly impressed by his wealth of knowledge. But as a girl who just wanted to get to her destination in peace, I was contributing the bare minimum to the conversation while also making sure he stayed on the route the app told me he was supposed to be taking.

  Safety first.

  With less than five minutes until we’d be arriving at the “Bash-ville” Rage Room, the car grew quiet in a way that should’ve relieved me but really only made me suspicious as I peeked up from my phone just as the man blurted, “So did you know he was cheatin’ on you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Todd Boswell. Did you know he was…”

  Before he could finish asking his stupid ass question, I interrupted, “No, I heard what
you said. But I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  Because of how far we were into the drive, I’d assumed I was in the clear regarding that particular conversation. But instead, I was only reminded of my reality outside of Kat’s condo that had this random stranger insisting, “She’s not prettier than you. If it means anything.”

  “It doesn’t,” was what I responded in my head instead of aloud since I didn’t have it in me to entertain the topic. And thankfully, we were pulling up to my drop-off spot so I didn’t have to say anything other than, “Thank you” as I hurriedly climbed out of his car, my head low as I rushed into the place to find Kage standing at a counter laughing it up with some older white man before he turned my way and immediately looked worried.

  Approaching me, he asked, “Hey, you good?”

  I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway as I moved past him so that I could get to the wall that was lined with destructive tools. And for as many options as I had, there was something about the pink baseball bat that spoke to me, a sinister grin on my lips as I went to reach for it until Kage grabbed my wrist from behind to stop me.

  “Whoa. Slow down, Bleu,” he chuckled. “You gotta fill out a little paperwork before you can touch the weaponry.”

  Oh.

  Right.

  “That makes sense,” I thought, trying to mask the rage that was already brewing inside of me as I told him, “My bad. Guess I’m just extra excited about banging some shit out.”

  “Riiight,” he sighed with an uneasy smile as he guided me over to the counter to fill out a few different waiver forms, his eyes on me intently like he was my mother making sure I filled in each box correctly. Or rather, like he was my mother who didn’t believe I was telling the full truth, his eyes squinted with suspicion when he asked, “Are you sure you’re good, Bleu?”

  Signing my name everywhere I was supposed to, I answered, “Let’s just say I’m here for a reason.”

  Instead of pressing me on it, Kage nodded and replied, “Fair enough,” just as the man from the counter handed us each a pair of goggles and a coverall to put on for protection; though safety was honestly the last thing on my mind.