King of the Court

by Melanie Munton

  Work hard, play hard.

  And I played hard.

  Jesse fist-bumped me when I reached our group of lockers. I pushed aside one headphone to hear him.

  “You feeling strong today?”

  I cracked my neck from side-to-side. “Today and every day, man. You?”

  He slipped his jersey on over his head, striking a few poses while flexing his biceps. “Just call me Black Superman.”

  “Yet another good porn name,” Boyd commented, slapping Jesse on the shoulder on the way to his locker.

  “I got a porn name for you, Newton,” Jesse said. “How about Harry Small Cox?”

  The locker room filled with the sound of laughter.

  “The Hillbilly Humper!” Rafferty shouted from the other side of the room.

  “Ben Sucking.” This from Colt.

  “Dr. Deliverance,” I chimed in, bringing another round of guffaws.

  Boyd looked unaffected. “It’s so cute,” he said, amused. “Y’all are just jealous ‘cuz we all know who has the biggest dick in the room.”

  The laughter faded. It was true. Not that we guys check out each other’s junk or anything, but Boyd’s equipment was pretty hard to miss. Let’s just say, he and the horses his family raised had a lot in common.

  I placed my headphone back over my ear and listened to Eminem’s “’Till I Collapse” as I put on my uniform. It was routine that it be the last song I listened to before I left the locker room. The lyrics resonated with me on a deeper level, especially after experiencing the pain of my knee injury. Because I would be here, finishing this season with my team and a weak knee, until my bones collapsed.

  So help me God.

  “Let’s go, everybody gather up!” Coach yelled moments later.

  We all scooted forward, closing in around the three coaches. I’d had my share of coaches over the years, and players could easily tell when they were bullshitting them. But the one thing Coach Bradley had never been around us was fake. He gave his impassioned speeches and taught us life lessons because you could tell he cared. Hell, even when he was chewing our asses out you knew he was only doing it because he so badly wanted us to live up to our full potential. Never self-serving.

  Coaches like that were rare.

  “You all know what’s going to happen when you step out onto that court,” he said, moving his gaze back and forth between every player. “The lights are going to shine on you. The crowd is going to shout your name. You’ll see your numbers flashed all around those stands. And do you know why those people cheer for you? Do you know why they rally behind this team?”

  We all remained silent, knowing the question was rhetorical.

  “It’s because you give them pride,” he stated emphatically. “Your hard work and your efforts make these fans, this school, and this coaching staff proud to wear the blue and white. Dignity, gentlemen, is not something that’s borne of winning. It’s borne of inner strength and devotion and a collective trust in each other.”

  Adrenaline ignited in my veins, feeling like electrical charges surging into my limbs. I took steady breaths to calm my system, controlling my energy until I had the opportunity to release it.

  “Every time you step out onto that court, you enter into a battle,” he continued. “The weak do not win battles. The strong do. The meek do not win battles. The proud do. And individuals do not win battles. Teams do. You inspire others to fight behind you because you as a team are fierce. When you fight, you fight for victory, yes. But you also fight for pride. For the letters on your jerseys. For the opportunity to achieve greatness. And you, gentlemen, have that opportunity this season. The path to greatness is a hard-fought road and one that only the strong can overcome. So I ask you…are you strong?”

  A murmured chorus of “Yes, sirs” echoed through the room.

  He stepped forward, a vein popping out in his neck. “I said, are you strong?”

  Everyone shouted, “Yes, sir!”

  He yelled back, “Are you proud?”

  “Yes, sir!” We all jumped to our feet, bouncing on our souls as we crowded into a tight huddle with red-faced Coach Bradley in the middle. Getting fired up.

  “Are you going to fight?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “What are we going to do?” I roared.

  As captain, it was my privilege to shout the sacred question before every game.

  “BRING THE THUNDER!”

  We all brought our hands to the center, rumbling out “NCU!” as we broke it down. Leading the team, I pushed my way through the locker room doors, encountering the blinding flashes of the camera crews and reporters who had gathered, waiting for us to emerge. Ignoring them, I continued forward down the tunnel with purposeful strides. The lot of us no doubt made one intimidating as hell picture.

  But, man, I have to say. There is no other high in the world than the feeling you get when you first step onto that hardwood and your home crowd erupts for you. Rising to their feet, NCU fans clapped and stomped their feet, creating that exhilarating sound of thunder that was distinct of all the NCU sports teams. I absorbed those sounds, letting them invigorate my body and spark fire in my blood.

  But you could only revel in them until tip-off, and then you had to block all of that shit out.

  Both teams had already warmed up, so we only had to get through introducing the starting line-ups before the tip-off. The five of us—Colt, Jesse, Boyd, Krys, and myself—sat on the bench as the arena went dark and the spotlights came on. The notes to AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blasted through the speakers as the announcer’s voice came over the system. I was the last to be announced.

  “Standing at six-foot five inches, the senior power forward, and your King of the Court,”—insert eye roll—“Caaaaaam Donovan!”

  Heart thumping, blood pumping, pulse pounding…I ran down the line of my teammates, shaking hands and bumping chests. I riled them up a little more on the court as we all crouched in a circle.

  “Who are we?” I yelled.

  “NCU!”

  “And what are we going to do?”

  “Bring the Thunder!”

  We jogged back over to the bench for Coach’s first play calls and a few last words. I stood there staring down at the dry erase board Coach held out to us, studying what he drew, when I got a strong whiff of…cherry fucking vanilla.

  Did she wear it on purpose just to fuck me? I’d done so well tuning her out since I’d entered the arena. Now, when my concentration needed to be absolutely impenetrable, all I could think about was her. With that fragrance assaulting my nostrils, my senses were going haywire.

  Don’t look over at her. Stay focused on what Coach is saying.

  Well, that didn’t happen.

  I glanced in her direction down at the end of the bench. She was watching me intently, her gaze roving down my body. Clearly, she didn’t realize she’d been caught. When we finally made eye contact, her eyes widened, looking horrified, and she turned away. I wasn’t bothered to find her checking me out. In fact, I encouraged it. What I was shocked to see was that blush. The girl could verbally eviscerate you like it was nothing, yet she blushed at being caught ogling.

  Contrary as ever, she shyly peered back over her shoulder at me.

  Because I hadn’t taken my eyes off her the whole time—and because I was the dumbest man alive—I fucking winked at her.

  16

  Reese

  Well, the team was flying high with another win under their belt.

  The game had been intense and the atmosphere electric as the guys soared right into victory. As soon as they’d shaken hands with their opponents, they’d barreled out of the arena and back to the locker room with giant grins on all of their faces. With a smile of my own, I hung back with Gus to gather up all of our gear and help the cleanup crew pick up the bench area that was strewn with paper cups, towels, and forgotten warm-ups.

  “You can’t say the job doesn’t come without perks, right?” Gus said as he zipped up o
ur training bag.

  I bent down to grab a few water bottles that had rolled under the chairs. “It definitely isn’t boring. Comes with good benefits, too. Breathing in the lovely aroma of sweat and musk every day is particularly appealing.”

  He winked. “I knew that’s what eventually hooked you.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  His gaze flew to mine, apprehension clear on his face. “Is this a lady problem?”

  I gave him some good, big ‘ol cow eyes. “Yes, I have some questions about the results of my last pap smear, Gus. Because out of all the females in my life, I feel most comfortable talking to you about those issues.”

  “You’re lucky I like you, girl,” he grumbled. “What’s your question?”

  I debated on saying anything, but this had been on my mind since day one. I wracked my brain, deciding on the most appropriate phrasing.

  “You’re well above retirement age—”

  He laughed. “Is that so? Because I could have sworn I was still twenty-two.”

  “Now who’s the sarcastic one?” I muttered. “I was saying that you’ve been able to retire for years now and be more than well off. So, why do you continue to work for the team every year? Don’t you want to just take a break and relax?”

  He threw the strap of the training bag over his shoulder and looked around the arena. Spectators were still filing out of the stands, and the janitorial staff was starting to go through every aisle picking up trash.

  “After I lost my wife seven years ago, the loneliness was almost unbearable.”

  My heart cracked. I knew his wife had had many health issues during the last decade of her life and that her passing had been very hard on him.

  “Working in the PT department and with this team,” he shrugged, “it always felt like a second home to me. And after I lost Helene, the people I worked with were the closest thing I had to a family.” He glanced down at the warm-ups I had in my arms. “I suppose all these guys also remind me of my son a little.”

  My head reared back in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a son.”

  And I thought I knew him pretty well, but never once had he mentioned him.

  His gaze was suddenly shrouded in pain. I also detected some regret there. “We haven’t spoken in years. We never had a great relationship and after his mom died, well… He didn’t see much of a reason for us to stay in touch.”

  How sad. And I thought my parental situation was tough. I just couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Gus, especially his own family. He was the kindest person I’d ever met.

  “Maybe you should try to call him sometime.”

  His smile was full of grief. “He won’t want to hear from me.”

  “You never know unless you try.”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Maybe someday. I’ll see you back there.” Then he walked away.

  He was obviously hurting deeply from the loss of his son in his life, especially since he no longer had his wife with him, either. Seeing that made me consider how my own father thought about our relationship. How he’d felt about all these years of distance between us. Maybe I was just feeling extra emotional because I was getting ready to start my period, but I suddenly wanted to go wrap my arms around my dad and erase all the years of avoidance and bitter conversations. I spotted him finishing up an interview with a reporter, and followed him toward the team tunnel.

  “How many times did you use the phrase ‘team effort’ that time?”

  His head swung around, a smile already stretching across his face. “Hey, I’m getting better about that. I tried mixing it up a little with ‘accomplished as a team’.”

  I tipped my head to the side. “Not bad. That was some good coaching you did out there tonight. Although I probably would have left Krys in there those last few minutes so he could have gotten his double-double. And if he fouls out, then he fouls out.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You sound like Donovan.” My heart did a little stutter step in my chest. “He said the same thing.”

  “It would be good for his personal numbers,” I reasoned.

  He undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. “Yes, but the bench guys need their playing time, too. When we get into foul trouble or God forbid we have any injuries, I can’t have those guys coming onto the court stone cold. Even though those guys start on the bench, they’re still some of the best players in the country. Our starters are just better. But we need everyone involved this season. It’s going to take a…” he trailed off, pursing his lips.

  I smirked. “A team effort?”

  His eyes gleamed in amusement. “Exactly.” He stopped in front of the locker room with his hand on the door handle. “You still liking the job?”

  “You don’t have to ask me that every week, you know.” My voice was gentle when I added, “I’m not going anywhere, Dad.”

  There was a silent moment that passed between us that was filled with more emotion than I wanted to deal with. I knew he was relieved to hear I was happy working with him. Just as I knew he was also pleased to hear me call him Dad. In the past, I tended to avoid that term whenever we spoke.

  After he walked through the double doors, I shut myself inside the training room. Gus usually went in with the guys to do some taping and mess with ice packs, sending some of them in to see me, if necessary. I was unloading my equipment and organizing the supply cabinets when loud rapping sounded on the adjoining locker room door.

  “Reese, baby!”

  Vaughn. I was already giggling before he even dropped the cheesy line I knew was coming.

  “Vogue just called and said they want you on the cover!”

  I walked over and stood right next to the door so he could hear my response. “That’s so funny because Mr. Rogers just called and said he wanted his haircut back.”

  Male laughter rang out in the other room, including Vaughn’s.

  “Don’t act like you’re not picturing me naked right now.”

  “I think I’d prefer Mr. Rogers naked.”

  He laughed again. “I knew you’d have a freaky side.”

  “Rafferty, dude, put some damn clothes on!” That was Cam’s voice. And he didn’t sound too happy.

  Wait. Holy shit. Vaughn was naked on the other side of that door. I mean, he might have a baby face, but I was pretty sure the rest of his body wouldn’t look like any baby I’d ever seen.

  “We’re having a party tonight at my place,” he said, clearly talking to me again. “You have to come. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Do you ever?”

  I knew he lived with Shane and Clark in a rental house off-campus, where the team had most of their parties. I’d overheard numerous conversations about their place being dubbed the “party house.”

  “Not in my vocab, baby,” he crooned. “So you in?”

  “I don’t know…”

  I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. What if Cam went? Would we talk to each other? Ignore one another? Things could get awkward real fast and what kind of fun would that be?

  “I do not accept that,” Vaughn replied. “Don’t be a party pooper, Reese. Let loose a little. It’s not going to be crazy.”

  “That’s how every scene from Animal House starts.”

  I heard a loud laugh in the background that sounded like Cam. Was he a big fan of the cult classics like I was? I guess I wouldn’t know since we’d never actually talked about stuff like that. Like our interests.

  Nope. We just talked about dicks.

  “I promise,” he said. “It’ll just be us and some of the other sports teams. And since you’re part of our team, you have to be there. It’s part of our by-laws.”

  Even though I was fairly certain he had no idea what a by-law was, it sounded nice to be part of a team. Even more, it was nice they actually considered me part of the team.

  “I’ll do my best to be there,” I conceded.

  “I command you not to wuss out.” He rattled off the addre
ss. “And bring as many of your hot girlfriends as you want. There’s no limit.”

  Well, now I was at an impasse. I kind of wanted to go. I’d been busting my ass with work and classes and homework lately, I could use a break. I deserved to have fun, right? There was just that nagging voice in my head that warned it may not be a good idea with the possibility of Cam’s presence.

  I was about to walk out and lock up when my phone chimed with a text.

  Unknown: Go to the party.

  The number obviously belonged to someone in that locker room who had overheard our conversation. And I suspected I knew exactly who it was.

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: Your wildest fantasy.

  Much to my dismay, I was smiling as I responded.

  Me: Chris Pratt?

  Unknown: Even better. Cam

  Me: How did you get this number?

  Gus gave out his number, but I’d kept mine private for a reason. I wasn’t saying any of them would or wouldn’t use it. But I didn’t want to risk getting drunken calls from Vaughn at three o’clock in the morning, which was more than plausible.

  Cam: Gus gave it to me.

  That traitor. Looked like I was going to have to kill the old man after all.

  Me: Why do you care if I go to the party or not?

  Cam: I don’t. I’m just worried that stick up your ass might get permanently lodged up there if you don’t do something about it soon.

  My first reaction was to laugh, which pissed me off. I guess I should have been offended and I was mad that I wasn’t. I loved yet hated that his sense of humor somehow meshed with mine.

  Me: Just because I don’t have fun with you doesn’t mean I never have fun.

  Cam: Prove it.

  Cam: But I’m pretty sure you have had fun with me. And I would be more than happy to prove it.

  Dammit. It was way too easy for him to say the exact things that would get to me.

  Me: I’ll be there.

  I don’t really know why I said it, other than I just wanted him to shut up.

  Cam: Good. Feel free to wear a toga if you want. ;)