by Marian Tee
“I’m…”
“Lace? Lace! Thank God you’re all right.” It was Alfred, his voice filled with concern, but his eyes were wild and she knew he wanted to hurt her for making him worry.
The paramedic beside her said firmly, “Sir, we need to take her to the hospital.”
Alfred stuttered, “The hospital? But she’s—”
“Standard procedure, sir. If you wish, you may accompany the student to the hospital.”
Alfred slowly nodded. “Yeah…I think I will. I need to keep an eye on her, make sure she’s fine.”
The paramedic gave her a questioning look. “Is that okay with you, ma’am?”
Silver’s words flashed in her mind.
Whatever he wants you to do, do it.
She managed a nod.
The paramedic led her towards the ambulance, Alfred walking alongside them. As she was made to lie back on the stretcher, the paramedic murmured, “It’s going to be okay, Miss. Everything’s under control.”
Her eyes flew to the man speaking, but his face remained expressionless before he turned away and began talking to Alfred. The ambulance doors shut, and the man still wasn’t done asking Alfred questions, not even when the ambulance pulled out.
Lace closed her eyes.
She had a feeling those questions would continue all the way to the hospital, ensuring she and Alfred had no time to be alone with each other.
She had an urge to cry, but she willed the tears away, knowing it would only make Alfred mad or even suspicious.
I love you, Wyndham. Remember that.
The urge to cry strengthened, but she fought against it.
I love you, too, March. I wish I could have told you that.
Bad Choices
The only time Lace hoped for everyone to be a no-show, and the whole world just had to turn up for the game between Christopoulos University and Northwest. Even worse, the entire front row behind her team was taken up by bikers of the Afxisi. Once word about their collective presence spread, she knew just about every girl within one hundred meters would show up as well.
Behind her, Alfred muttered, “Go and talk to them. I know you’re friends with the head of the racing club.”
Not bothering to answer, she reluctantly made her way to where her friends were seated. Her eyes felt scratchy, her whole body heavy, and it was all she could do not to break down. The whole night she had been at the hospital, Lace had been unable to sleep, fearing Alfred would do something the moment she did.
When she reached the front row, KC, along with Aria and her boyfriend Kellion, immediately stood up.
“Are you all right?” KC asked immediately. “I kept calling you and texting you since I heard about last night’s scare.”
“I’m sorry.” She hadn’t been able to answer, not with her phone in Alfred’s possession. “I was just too…tired. And I wanted to rest, as much as I could, for today’s game.”
Did the words sound as lame to them, Lace wondered, as it did to her?
She hoped not. She didn’t think she could lie any better than that, and she really didn’t want them to ask any more questions, didn’t want any of them to draw enough attention from Alfred and have them unknowingly force his hand.
Deciding to change the subject, she asked brightly, “Did someone lose a bet or something?” She gestured to the bikers behind them, their Greek god-like faces stoic as they did their best to ignore the girls screaming their club’s name over and over from the bleachers.
Aria wrote something on her board and showed it to Lace. LOSER.
“What she means,” Kellion said hastily, “is that she was worried about you because you’re too much like her. So she asked me if I could get the entire club to watch your game for moral support.”
“All that from the word ‘loser’?” Lace asked doubtfully.
“Well,” Kellion said in a modest voice, “I can’t help it if we love each other so much we can read each other’s minds.” Kellion had barely finished speaking when his girlfriend kicked him in the shin, causing him to grunt.
Despite everything, she couldn’t help smiling a little, knowing that Aria right now was being at her most affectionate. “Thanks, I guess.” Behind her, the warning buzzer went off, telling them they had five minutes left before the game started.
KC stepped forward to give her a hug, whispering into Lace’s ear, “Everything’s under control, Lace.”
She froze.
When KC pulled away, Lace saw her friend’s green eyes bright with tears. “Do you remember,” KC said shakily, “what you told me when I was having problems with…him?”
Lace nodded.
“The game’s not over until it’s over.”
Lace said seriously, “Don’t make me cry. I’ll never forgive—ouch!” KC had smacked her on the head. “What was that for?”
“So you won’t cry,” KC answered with a teary smile.
Another buzz, and Lace knew she had to go. “Thanks, KC.” And then she was hurrying towards the dugout. She ran as quickly as she could, not wanting to give Alfred a chance to talk to her. Right now, she didn’t think she could manage to pretend in any way.
Inside the locker room, everyone was already suited up, and they straightened in attention the moment she came inside. Alfred coming up behind her with his camera had them stiffening. She held her breath, but when none of them said a word about it, Lace allowed herself to relax.
“So…are you guys ready?”
“Hell yeah.” Or at least that was what she thought they said since everyone had just spoken in Greek.
She made a face. “You guys know I didn’t understand that, right?”
But her boys just laughed.
“We’ll do our best to make you proud,” Ivan said. “We might not have been playing together for as long as they have, but then…” He smiled. “We have you in our corner, do we not?”
“And your 20-page, single-spaced, Times New Roman 9 report on our strengths and weaknesses,” Drew deadpanned. “We mustn’t forget that.”
Alexio shook his head. “If only you did the same thing for your history report, Coach.”
“Shut up.” She had forgotten about that one.
“Since we’re due a break after this, Coach, the other guys and I have been talking…” Vasyl paused before letting the penny drop. “And we’ve decided we’ll be your tutors.”
The old Lace would have rejected the offer completely.
But after everything that had happened…
“Thanks,” she said grudgingly. “I hate that you guys are smarter than me but…thanks.”
“We must be dead,” Alexio murmured. “It cannot be possible that we have just heard Coach thank us.”
“Shut up.” She would have said more if not for the crowd erupting in loud cheers outside, followed by the announcer calling out the team’s name.
Lace took a deep breath. “That’s us.” She managed a smile. “You ready?”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Coach.” Ivan patted her head. “We’ve got everything under control.”
Before she could say anything, everyone filed out.
In moments, it was just her and Alfred in the locker room, but strangely, she didn’t feel afraid at all.
Everything was under control.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was God’s way of reminding her to have faith. Whichever it was, she just felt like Silver was around her, had always been with her from the start.
Too. Irritatingly. Perfect.
Always knowing when she was trouble, always knowing when to help her and when to let her stumble on her own.
Too. Irritatingly. Perfect.
And she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Beside her, Alfred sneered, “Touching scene between you and those men, but you think they’ll still be like that after you make them lose?”
Sick and tired of being threatened the whole time, Lace answered back, “All I know is that I want to kill you�
�”
He slapped her, hard enough for Lace to taste blood from a tiny cut on her lip. “Don’t push me, bitch.” He shoved her out of the room. “Now, do what you’re fucking told before I lose my patience.”
As she joined her boys on the court, she could feel their gazes on her, making Lace want to cover her face. But she forced herself not to, knowing it would only draw more attention to her injury.
One final buzz sounded in the air then, and the crowd roared with excitement, the game officially starting as the referee blew the whistle for the jump ball.
Time flew, and Lace immersed herself completely in her role as the team’s coach. The first quarter ended in a tie, and the second half finished with CU having a two-point lead. The third quarter, Northwest fought back, Grant leading the way with two consecutive three-pointers in the last seconds, enough to give them a one-point lead.
When the last quarter rolled in, all semblance of defense had been laid to rest, with both teams focused on pure offense. Basket after basket was exchanged, the players running up and down the court, intent on converting as quickly as they could.
Behind her, Alfred hissed, “If you don’t fucking lose, your friend’s video will show up on that fucking giant screen above us.”
Lace hesitated.
“Don’t think I’m fucking bluffing, bitch.”
“Timeout,” she yelled just as the shot clock reset itself and the announcer boomed out, “Last two minutes.” A moment later, the buzzer went off. “Twenty-second timeout for Christopoulos University.”
As her team converged around her, Lace stared blindly at her playboard. It would be so, so easy to make them lose. She could give her boys a high-risk play, one that would likely result into nothing, and they’d be none the wiser. Her boys would feel bad about “failing” her while she got to save her and KC’s asses.
“Coach?”
When she looked up, she saw five pairs of eyes staring back at her, and all of them had trust in it.
These guys trusted her. Completely.
She took a deep breath. “Here’s what we do.”
And the game resumed.
As soon as Alexio passed the ball to Vasyl, a Northwest player managed to steal, immediately scoring two points. Her face froze even as Alfred whispered to her, “Good job.”
Fuck you, Lace thought. The play she had given her boys was meant to help them win, but it hadn’t been executed.
Ivan called for a timeout as the game clock dwindled to just twenty seconds, with Northwest leading by one and the ball returning to CU’s possession.
She closed her eyes.
Another chance to sink or swim.
“Coach?” It was Damian, and again the rareness of hearing him speak made her sit up.
“Yeah?”
“Whatever you decide is okay. Everything’s under control.”
When the other guys nodded, she had a feeling they knew more than they were telling. Looking in their eyes, she had a feeling they were even giving her the green light to coach them to lose.
Her throat clogged up.
No. Fucking. Way.
Praying KC would understand the risk she was about to take, praying she was doing the right thing, she began to draw her next play on the board. “We are going to kill this,” she muttered. “So fucking pay attention because if you do exactly what I say, we’re going to make the whole world sit up and understand CU means business.”
Another whistle, signaling the end of the timeout, and she hurriedly finished her instructions. “Got it?”
Nods all around.
Even as her heart broke a little at what she had just done, she couldn’t stop her lips from curving. “Then you’re going to fucking kill it, aren’t you?”
“HELL YEAH.”
She laughed, because this time they had all spoken in English.
But her laughter faded as soon as the clock started ticking again and the battle between Northwest and CU resumed. This time, the defense was at its stickiest, forcing her rookie point guard to improvise.
Good job, Vasyl, Lace nodded as she took note of the new positions he had set up for the team.
He passed to Alexio, who faked before passing it back to Vasyl. By this time, the freshman was on the other side of the court, allowing him to dribble then pass the ball under his legs to Drew.
Her small forward circled around, waiting patiently while Damian and Ivan fought for control inside the paint. The two were double-teamed and even triple-teamed, Northwest scrambling to prevent Drew from passing the ball to either of the two.
Ten seconds to go.
Drew passed the ball back to Vasyl, who passed it back to Alexio.
Eight seconds to go.
Damian and Ivan, exchanging looks, changed tactics, becoming screens instead for—
Seven seconds to go.
Drew slashed his way inside the paint.
“Now,” Lace’s team captain roared.
Six seconds to go.
Everyone turned towards Ivan, allowing Alexio to pass to Drew.
Damian and Ivan immediately crowded in, preventing anyone from reaching Drew.
Five seconds.
Drew leapt up.
Four seconds.
Grant hit Drew’s hand just as Drew released the ball.
Three seconds.
“That’s a foul,” Lace screamed just as the referee blew his whistle.
Two seconds.
The ball went around the rim before falling inside.
Everyone screamed just as the announcer roared, “Christopoulos University wins!”
“You fucking bitch,” Alfred hissed. He was suddenly in her face, his face purple with rage. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t fucking know who you’re messing with—”
“Careful with the words, man.”
Startled, Lace looked up and was unable to believe her eyes. It was Liam and all the other guys she had coached back in high school.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. She felt like something was happening, unfolding, but she was just so tired she couldn’t think straight.
Liam smiled. “Letting you know everything’s under control.”
“Let go of me,” Alfred gritted out. “This is fucking harassment, and I won’t stand…” His words died when he realized that the entire squad of Christopoulos University had joined them.
Two dozen grown men, all physically fit and itching to kick his ass.
Hatred burst inside Alfred as his plans started to crumble around him. “You fools,” he sneered, unable to stop himself. “You think this bitch is worth it?” He laughed wildly. “Once you see what I have, you’ll know she’s just a slut—”
Damian cracked his knuckles. “Call Coach like that again, and you’ll be my bitch.”
Lace choked. It was like a line straight out from an action B-movie, but she knew no one would feel even close to laughing, not when it was Damian saying it.
“You can say what you want, but we know you can’t make a move here, not with everyone looking,” Alfred sneered.
“Maybe they can’t,” a voice behind Alfred said coldly, “but I can.”
Lace started, unable to believe what she was hearing. A moment later, she saw her own brother walking forward, dressed in a black suit and towering over almost everyone. Almost as tall as Damian, Slade Wyndham cut a rather intimidating figure with his no-nonsense air about him and the chill in his voice.
Before Alfred realized what was happening, the two players holding him by the arm had let him go, only to find himself surrounded once more. This time, however, cuffs were also slapped around his wrists.
A badge was flashed in front of him.
Alfred whitened.
FBI.
A man stepped in front of him. “As these fine gentlemen will soon inform you, Mr. Cohen, you’re under arrest for game fixing. People you have colluded with, such as the team captains of Northwest, Ridgeway, and Blackwater College to name a few, have also
been arrested and are, at the moment, singing like canaries.”
The man’s lips formed a smile that had Alfred swallowing. He had seen smiles like that before, and they all belonged to people who had the ability to kill cold-bloodedly.
“I’m not yet sure what hold you have over my sister, but whatever it is, I suggest you turn it over immediately. Cooperate, and you won’t suffer as much as you should. Refuse, and you will wish you were dead.”
Slade nodded at the men. “Take him away now.” When he was done talking, he turned to Lace.
“Let me guess,” she said immediately.
“Guess what?”
“What you’re going to say next?”
His dark blue eyes, which had earlier been as cold as ice, were now twinkling. “Then guess.”
“You’re going to tell me,” she said shakily, “that everything’s under control.”
He said simply, “Yes.” His eyes narrowed, and a moment later, he yanked Lace close to his side.
She started to ask why, but then she followed her brother’s gaze.
It was Ryan, the assistant team captain of Northwest, and he was heading her way, together with the rest of his teammates.
“Game fixing?” Ryan demanded. “Will you stop at nothing to get what you want?”
At his words, a circle reformed around him, composed of Lace’s current and former players.
“This is going to be overkill,” Kellion Argyros murmured as he took his place next to Ivan, “but I have also been asked quite nicely to make my presence felt if people from Northwest decide to make a scene.”
Something in his words made a bell ring in her head, but she had no time to think about it as she watched the entire Afxisi form behind its President.
Ryan shook his head. “What the hell is this? She’s not what you think,” he cried out. “How long are you all going to be blind—”
“Can you just tell me this, Jackson?” It was Drew who spoke, stepping forward to face Ryan head on. “I’ve always thought you were a good sort, which is why I don’t understand why you’re being such an asshole—”
“Because she deserves it,” Ryan spat.
Lace flinched at the look of hatred he sent her way. She wanted to be mad at Ryan, but she couldn’t. Even after everything, she just couldn’t.