Big Baller : A Hero Club Novel

by Katrina Marie

  Big Baller

  Cocky Hero Club Production

  Katrina Marie

  Copyright © 2020 by Katrina Marie and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Small Edits

  Proofreading by: Small Edits

  Photo Credit: Adobe Stock

  Formatted by: Katrina Marie

  Contents

  Cocky Hero Club Production

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Books by CHC Authors

  About Katrina Marie

  Books by Katrina Marie

  Big Baller is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Playboy Pilot. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  One

  Bentley

  Today is the day. The first game of the season, and if all goes well, I’ll be appearing on the court as an Austin Rattler. This moment is what I’ve been working my entire life toward. Being a starter for Hilltown University can never compare to today. Being picked up by a professional team out of college is slim, but I was able to lead my team to win huge national championships. That brought the attention of professional teams. Even better, I was signed on by the one in my city. It’s a win no matter what way you look at it.

  A groan comes from the other side of my bed. Shit. I totally forgot she was here. This is why I never let the women I bring home stay overnight. Hell, I probably should have gotten a room for the night. The only reason she’s in my bed is because I’m a basketball player. She’s chasing her way to fame. My teammates warned me about girls like her, but there’s no reason for me to be worried. No, I don’t do relationships. A bit of fun here and there is fine. There’s zero chance of me putting a ring on anyone’s finger. Not after my dad bailed on my mom. Bailed on me and Gabby. I’ve seen what relationships do to those they leave behind. I refuse to let that happen to me. The single life works out wonderfully for me.

  “What time is it?” Mary, or is it Marnie, says from beneath the comforter. Her voice is gravelly and sleepy.

  “Almost nine,” I say. “We should probably get you home.”

  She throws the comforter down, breasts exposed, and I remember why I brought her home last night. “Seriously,” she asks. “You’re just going to send me on my merry little way.”

  I slide out of bed, grab my boxers from the floor, and push my legs through them. “I have things I need to do today.” Like get some practice rounds in before the game tonight. I want Coach to know that I’m capable of starting. That I’m more than just a bench rider.

  “Then what was the point of bringing me over?”

  “Look.” I do my best to keep my eyes on her face and not let myself be tempted by her gorgeous body. “We both wanted the same thing last night. You said you weren’t looking for a relationship, and neither am I. What exactly were you expecting?”

  “Breakfast would have been nice,” she grumbles as she throws the rest of the blanket off of her. She storms to the bathroom and seconds later I hear water running.

  All right then, I guess she’s going to take a shower before she leaves. She rode with me in my car, and with her attitude, I think it’d be best if I’m not the person to take her home. Thank God Uber and Lyft exist. Otherwise, I’d be dealing with her angry grumbles.

  I grab my phone off the dresser and head toward the bathroom. My knuckles tap lightly on the door three times and there’s no response. I crack the door open just enough for her to hear me. “Hey,” damn it, I forgot to ask what her name is. I need to create a note in my phone so I’ll have a way to check without sounding like a complete asshole. “What’s your address? I will get you a ride home.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she deadpans. “I already have a ride.” Her voice is ice in the steamy bathroom and I know she won’t be someone I see again. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t run my name through the mud. It won’t matter, though. She knew exactly what last night was about, even if she wants to act like it was supposed to be so much more.

  “Um, okay.” Uncertainty about what I’m supposed to respond with flows through me. I’m not one that gets flustered easily. I’ve always had to be a grownup. My mom may have wanted me to stay little, but that’s not possible when she worked so much and me and my sister were left at home to fend for ourselves most days. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  Mary/Marnie wants breakfast and maybe if I have something ready for her ride home, she’ll be in a better mood. Food makes me happy, and I assume it does for everyone else. I walk down the stairs and the blank walls on either side make me wish I had pictures I could hang there. Something to make it seem less sterile. Mom’s house is full of pictures and mementos. There’s barely a square inch that isn’t covered with mine or my sister’s smiling faces, or awards and medals we’ve won. I could put up some shots the photographers at Hilltown took during my last season there, but that may appear a bit pretentious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a badass on the court, otherwise I wouldn’t be playing professionally. But…I don’t want to come home and see pictures of myself. Even I would get sick of that.

  The kitchen is filled with sunshine as I round the corner to see what I might have to feed my overnight guest. Floor to ceiling windows take up one wall, and I squint my eyes waiting for them to adjust. Living here is an upgrade from the shitty apartment I lived in with a few of my teammates in college. It's weird being on my own and I’m not sure how I feel about it. The privacy is nice, but other than that? It can get lonely. Hence the pissed off woman in my shower. I really need to figure out her name before she’s even more furious and tries to come up with something for blackmail.

  I pull the fridge door open, and there’s nothing in there. I'm not sure why I expected a plethora of food for the taking. If I don't grab food with my teammates, I'm usually at my mom's eating her food. I’m a horrible cook and if I didn’t have to keep my performance up on the court, I’d live off of frozen food. Ah, I should check the freezer, I’m bound to have some frozen breakfast in there.

  I yank the door open and there are exactly two breakfast burritos on the top shelf. It’s probably not what she wanted when she said breakfast would be nice, but it’s better than nothing. Throwing them in the microwave, I lean against the counter. This has to win me some brownie points. At least enoug
h that she won’t be too pissed about essentially being thrown out.

  The microwave beeps and I pull out some paper plates while the food cools down. As I’m setting the food on the plates, I hear the click clack of her heels tapping down the stairs. She must be done with her shower. She’s definitely taking her sweet time coming down the stairs. There’s no noise for a few seconds, as if she’s determining what her exit strategy should be, but then her heels pick up the beat and she’s standing a few feet in front of the stairs wearing her clothes from last night.

  Picking up one plate, I hold it out as an offering. Like I’m a good pup that’s done a great deed. “I made breakfast.”

  She scrunches up her nose in disgust. “That’s what you call breakfast?” She shakes her head and walks toward the front door. “My ride's here. I would say it’s been fun but…” She lets the sentence trail off.

  “Marnie, wait.” Yes, that’s her name. She didn’t recoil at the sound of it, so I must have gotten it right. “You can take it with you.”

  “I’m good," she calls over her shoulder. She’s out of the house before I make it to her.

  Well, I guess that takes care of that problem. I hope to hell she didn’t use all the hot water. I need to get ready to head to the stadium.

  This is it. The first of many games to happen on this court. I used to dream about this moment when I was little and here I am. My feet jogging across the shiny hardwood floor. My hands shooting the ball toward the goal I never thought I’d be tall enough to reach. This is what I’ve worked for my entire life. And tonight, I will prove how valuable I am to the team.

  Coach calls the team over to the bench. The game is about to start and I’m itching to be back out there. “All right guys, I know it’s only preseason, but we need to start the season off with a win. Go out there and take care of the ball.” He goes over a few plays with us and calls out the starting line.

  I bounce on my toes, hoping he’ll call my name, but he doesn’t. My shoulders sag and I make my way to one of the empty chairs along the sideline. I choose one closer to the coach rather than at the very end. I doubt it’ll have any impact on him deciding to play me, but maybe if I show some initiative, he’ll give me a shot.

  Halfway through the game and I’m still riding the bench. We’re up by fifteen points, and the other team is getting mad. I have a feeling they will come back fiercely for the second half. I wish I was out there playing my heart out. I know I’m just a rookie, but how am I supposed to prove myself if he only lets me on the hardwood during practice. Practice isn’t what I’m here for. I’m here to make a name for myself, to take another team to the championships. That’s the problem, though. I’m not leading a team anymore. I’m the new guy, the one that has to earn their way to start. I did it in high school, then again in college. I’ll do it this time, too. One day these fans will be screaming my name.

  Two

  Jolene

  There are days that I wish I could call in sick. This is one of them. I groan as I roll across my bed and turn off the alarm blaring in the quiet morning. It’s still dark outside and if I didn’t absolutely need my job, I wouldn’t be going in.

  This is the first time in a few weeks that I’ve been able to sleep in my own bed. Laying in my own bed with my own pillows is so much better than the crappy hotels with the loud noises of the adjacent rooms. It’s the life I chose when I applied to be a flight attendant at International Airlines, much to my parent’s dismay. They wanted me to do the normal thing. Go to college. Find a steady job, then a husband, and start a family.

  It’s not that I’m against any of those things, but when you grow up in a small town, the first thing you want to do is leave. I wanted to spread my wings and explore the world. Being a flight attendant helps me fulfill that dream. The exhilaration of not knowing where you’re going until the week before is everything. Meeting new people, experiencing new things. I’m living my best life. Well, mostly.

  I need to stop lying around and get ready. It’s a good thing I always have my bag packed. The plane won’t wait for me. I just hope Lana is working with me on this trip. She has a way of keeping me distracted when he is the one flying. Carter Clines broke my heart and though he’s with someone else, someone he loves and cares about. It still stings. Before Kendall, I lasted two months with the pilot. That’s the longest he had ever been with anyone. I thought that meant I was special. Turns out, I was just another woman in a long line of women before me.

  I can’t think about him right now, even if I will see him in a few short hours. Well, more like hear him. This is another international flight, and that means he’ll be singing to all the passengers. Making sure there are headphones in my bag is a must. It’ll give me something to listen to while blocking him out. It’s not that I’m bitter or anything. I’m happy for him. He’s found “the one”. But that doesn’t lessen the sting of rejection. Especially when I thought we were going somewhere. And…that’s the last bit of attention I’m going to give Triple C. For now, anyway.

  Rolling out of bed, I groan. “Goodbye, sweet and comfortable bed,” I pat the bed as if it were my pet. “Until we meet again.” Dramatic? Maybe. Do I care? Not even a little bit. A person never really appreciates the small things until they’re sleeping on a rock-hard mattress to the tune of banging headboards on the other side of the wall. Not all places are like that, thank God. But the ones that are, I never get a good night’s rest.

  A quick shower is all I have time for. I hurry to my small bathroom and turn on the water, not even letting it completely warm up before I jump in. That extra time in bed I spent agonizing over working with Carter cost me precious minutes. I don’t have the luxury of letting it get hot before I wash my hair and body. I’m in and out in less than five minutes. The steam hasn’t even had the chance to build up in the tiny space. Next time, I will not drag ass when the alarm goes off.

  Still in my robe, I grab my phone off the nightstand and perch on the edge of my bed while I blow-dry my hair. Normally I’d do this in the bathroom, but I’m not ready to say bye to the bed. The low hum of the blow dryer is my soundtrack as I check social media and email. It’s all mostly junk, and I don’t know why I even bother. A message from Lana pops up on the screen and I hope that means she’ll be flying with me today.

  Lana: How long until you get to the airport?

  Jolene: I don’t know. Thirty, maybe forty-five minutes.

  Lana: Why so long? I need someone to bitch to about my long horrendous night.

  Jolene: I still need to put my makeup on. What happened?

  Lana: Put it on here. And nothing too bad. Just douchy guys at the hotel bar.

  Jolene: Why didn’t you tell me you were staying here overnight? You could have stayed here.

  Lana: It was late when I got in. And I didn’t want to chance waking you up. I know how much you love to sleep when you’re actually home.

  Jolene: I’m almost done blow drying my hair. I’ll use the makeup in my suitcase and put it on while you fill me in on the guys.

  Lana: See you in a few. Be careful.

  Jolene: Always. And I’ll be catching a cab. As long as they get me there in one piece, I’ll be happy.

  It’s a relief she’ll be on the same plane as me. At least, I think she will be. She never said we had the same schedule. Things between us have been strained for a while. After I started messing around with Carter, I almost cost us our friendship. But we’re working past that. We’ll be back at best friend status before I know it. Hell, she didn’t even give me a mocking “I told you so” when he broke things off. I can’t believe I almost let a guy come between us. Especially one that had zero intentions of making us a permanent thing.

  Turning the blow dryer off, I unplug it and toss it on my bed. I keep an extra, smaller one, in my suitcase so I won’t need it. I pull a brush through my hair a couple of times, and toss some clothes on. I should change into my uniform, but there will be time for that at the airport. Lana needs to vent. Listen
ing to her is the least I can do after all the crap I caused between us.

  I grab the bag that holds my uniforms and my suitcase. We’ll only be gone for a few days, but something feels different about this trip. And it has nothing to do with the hot pilot all the women swoon over. With nothing left to do, I walk out of the apartment and lock up. I should have called a cab as soon as I told Lana I’d be there early. Luckily, I live downtown and there’s sure to be a cab driving through to the airport.

  Lana is sitting outside the gate when I walk up. She grins as soon as she sees me. “It’s about time you got here.”

  “I told you it’d take me a bit.” I set the bag holding my uniforms across a couple seats and wrap my arms around Lana’s shoulders. “I forgot to call a cab before I left and had to wait until one passed by.” Letting go of her, I take a step back. “You’d think I’d be used to sharing a small space with someone I don’t know. But, no. The person I ended up in the cab with was awful.”

  “More awful than asshole guys at a bar?” She sits down and pats the seat next to her.

  “I think so.” The small plastic seat is cold against my thin leggings, and a shiver courses through me. “He was picking his nose behind his hand and then wiping it on the side of the seat. It was disgusting.” I’ve seen some crazy things while working as a flight attendant, but I don’t think anything beats what I witnessed. It’s way too early in the morning to deal with that nonsense.