At least, that’s what I was telling myself and later defending to Kat on the ride from the airport to my apartment. But once I got a knock on my door that night from a flower delivery man with a dozen roses, I was worried the line might’ve been a little blurrier for Kage than it was for me until I pulled the card and saw the bouquet had nothing to do with Kage at all.
“I’m sorry, Bleu-Boo. Forgive me?
Love, the T.B. to your B.T.”
Six
Handing Milwaukee their first loss of the regular season after knocking them out of the playoffs last year was satisfying as hell. But it was equally satisfying to get back to the locker room and find a text from Bleu, especially since it had become a pretty common occurrence after we’d decided to be friends.
I’d hit her up about some random shit.
She’d send me a funny meme or a private response to something I’d done publicly.
We were just… keeping it casual in a way I didn’t think I’d be into since we both knew how badly I still wanted her fine ass. But actually, I was good with it since not only was it giving me a chance to really get to know Bleu, but it also made her more comfortable with the idea of us keeping in touch until whenever she decided she was good with us possibly taking things to another level.
Obviously, I was hoping that day would come sooner than later. But in the meantime, I was happy to respond to her lowkey shady text that read, “Okay, Mr. First One in the Gym. I see you starting the season that counts off right… sort of.” - Bleu
“Sort of?” - Kage
“That run they went on in the second half had y’all looking a little sus, bruh.” - Bleu
“Here she go with this bruh shit,” I thought, rolling my eyes as I typed out a response.
“But we pulled out the victory and that’s all that matters, right?” - Kage
“Yeah, as long as y’all don’t make a habit of getting cocky and playing lazy against good teams.” - Bleu
“Coach Kirkwood said the same thing when he chewed our asses out in the fourth.” - Kage
“I know my shit :).” - Bleu
“Have fun celebrating in the ‘Kee!” - Bleu
Grinning at my phone, I shook my head just as I heard Zeb ask from his locker, “Ol’ girl about to have you flaking on me again?”
Since no one knew who “Ol’ girl” was, including him, it was easy for me to joke, “Who you talkin’ about? My boo Mickey Jo?”
A couple of our teammates nearby started to laugh as Zeb quickly approached me about his younger baller sister and groaned, “Chill out, nigga. Micaiah is still overseas.”
“Time zone coordination and FaceTime with the right lighting go a longggg way, bro-in-law,” I teased, laughing to myself once Zeb responded with a push to my arm. “But nah, I’m down for whatever tonight. Niko in too?”
With a subtle roll of his eyes, Zeb answered, “You know that washed ass nigga is prolly gonna stay back at the hotel so he can cake all night with the songstress. I’ll ask him though.”
Honestly, I couldn’t even knock Niko if that was his decision since I’d probably be on the same shit if Bleu and I were anywhere near on that level. But since we weren’t, I was first in line for Zeb’s shenanigans that had us in the VIP section of some strip club that was a lot more titties than ass.
Not my usual preference, but the half-priced wings were good enough to keep me from going back to the hotel early. Well, that and the fact that I still had decent service on my phone meaning I could waste time scrolling on social media whenever I got bored.
Yeah, the titties just weren’t tittying enough for me. But on Instagram, I found some much better entertainment when I stumbled upon Bleu’s story of her chronicling her first night out on the town since being back in New York.
There was the standard video every girl seemed to do with music playing in the background as she showed off her outfit and heels in the mirror. Then there was a boomerang of her and a hand - notably female - clinking their shot glasses, followed by another video of her and her friend who looked like the same one from the party back in Vegas singing along to some song I couldn’t hear in the back of a Lyft.
Whatever it was had her happy as hell, though, that alone making me smile too as I watched the selfie-style video of her and her friend taking another shot at the bar. And after that, there was a video of Bleu alone as she started throwin’ ass while the friend hyped her up, that one in particular making it mandatory for me to slide in her DMs with a response.
“You better keep this same energy for my birthday next weekend.” - @KageBeSteele
“Legit had no idea you even had a birthday coming up lol. Good to know.” - @BleuTaylorSports
“Does that mean you’ll be down to celebrate with me, or…?” - @KageBeSteele
“We’ll talk later :).” - @BleuTaylorSports
It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either, meaning I was riding the high of her maybe for the rest of the night and into the next couple days as we continued on our four-game road trip that included an easy victory against Cleveland before we landed in the Empire State for a back-to-back.
The first game was supposed to be the easier of the two since we’d be playing against one of the most well-known yet also highly disappointing franchises in the league. And the second would be slightly more competitive since we’d be up against their little brother team who was in the middle of the growth spurt. But both were only a short drive or train ride away from where I’d grown up in Bridgeport; a place I’d always have love for even though I had no interest in going back there any time soon.
Not that I wasn’t proud to say I was from there, or that I wasn’t grateful for the people who’d looked out for me when I was coming up. In fact, I was happy that some of those same people were making the trip to come and see me ball here in New York. But physically being in Bridgeport came with too many bad memories from my childhood that was spent bouncing around from group home to group home until my high school basketball coach decided to take me in my sophomore year, a moment I was forever grateful for since I wasn’t sure where the hell I’d be otherwise.
He’d made sure my basic needs were met even when he didn’t have it all himself. He’d tried his best to keep me out of trouble even when I didn’t always listen. He’d believed in me, invested in me, long before I even knew how to really appreciate what he was doing. And most importantly, he’d stuck with me through the highs and lows of it all, that glimpse of stability making me feel protected no matter what I was up against since I knew I could always count on Coach Joe.
Let him tell it, that was part of the reason why I’d gotten into half of the shit I did, knowing he’d be there to bail me out of any and all situations. But now that it was all starting to pay off, I was a lot more mindful about not leaving any room for him to regret what he’d done all those years ago, whether it be showing my appreciation by buying him a new pick-up truck or simply calling to tell him I was thinking about him.
To him, those gestures were equal. And it was that genuine energy that had me just as excited to see my guy as I was about the possibility of being in Bleu’s presence again for the first time since we’d kissed back in Nashville.
Honestly, I was hopeful for a round two.
Or three, depending on how you kept score.
But my chances were looking slim as hell after she turned down my invitation to both games, claiming that she had no interest in being at any sporting events until she could be back on the sidelines working.
That, I couldn’t really argue. But since there was no way in hell I was leaving the city without seeing her, I made sure to stay on her ass about my little birthday get together, steady trying to convince her that it wouldn’t be all that out of the ordinary for her to pull up and show love as we texted back and forth about it during the bus ride from the hotel to an offsite gym for morning shootaround.
“Bleu, I’ve seen you in enough pictures to know you ain’t one to miss a good party.” - K
age
“I know. I just don’t want people to get the wrong impression of me being at yours.” - Bleu
I should’ve been offended, but it was too easy for me to joke about it instead when I responded, “You mean, the wrong impression cause you can’t help flirtin’ your ass off whenever you’re around me? I get that.” - Kage
“LOL! You’re so damn full of yourself.” - Bleu
The fact that she didn’t deny it had me grinning hard as hell as I typed out another suggestion.
“Aight, so how about this? I’ll cancel everything and the two of us can just go to dinner together after tomorrow’s game.” - Kage
I knew it was a stretch. But I was never afraid to shoot my shot, especially now that we already seemed to be headed in the right direction even though Bleu thought I was wildin’ according to her response.
“Kage Steele, don’t you even think about sacrificing your twenty-fourth birthday plans just for little ol’ me.” - Bleu
“Well how I’ma see you then?” - Kage
I didn’t get to see the answer to that question right away since it was time to head into the gym, unloading the bus an event on its own since we were met with a bunch of fans wanting pictures and autographs. But after clearing that hurdle, I was back to my phone, hella intrigued once I saw what Bleu had suggested.
“How about you just stop by my place to pick up your present before you hit the club or whatever tomorrow?” - Bleu
“Oh, you got a nigga a present? What is it?” - Kage
“You’ll see on your birthday.” - Bleu
“I mean, if that works for you.” - Bleu
“If that works for me,” I said out loud with a chuckle as I found a seat on the sideline and typed out a response.
“Hell yeah, it works. And even if it didn’t, I would’ve made it work for you.” - Kage
I wasn’t playing about that at all. But it was clear Bleu thought I was bullshittin’ once I read her reply.
“Here you go again. Thinkin’ you’re cute.” - Bleu
Since she was the one to say it, I decided to remind her who she was talking to as I paused changing out of my t-shirt into my practice jersey so that I could snap a picture of myself to send to her. But just the act of having my phone lifted in front of my face was enough for Dre to shake his head and groan, “This nigga over here takin’ selfies and shit.”
“My baby Selena asked way too nicely for me not to deliver,” I joked, snapping a couple to choose from until Dre came and knocked my phone out of my hand with a mumbled, “Got me fucked up.”
Laughing to myself, I picked it up off the court and was happy to see the screen was still intact as I chose a picture and sent it to Bleu with a text that read, “I prefer handsome.” - Kage
Taking some time to finish getting dressed, I started lacing up my sneakers before tapping the screen to see Bleu’s response.
“Don’t get blocked.” - Bleu
“Your only rule was no dick pics.” - Kage
“And yet here you are, sending me a picture of a dick.” - Bleu
At first, her message made me frown confusedly until I realized I was the dick she was talking about, once again laughing to myself as I replied, “Aight, that was a good one lol. But don’t be mad when Instagram gets the same pic since you ain’t appreciate it :(.” - Kage
“LOL. I’m confident their response will be everything your ego needs and more.” - Bleu
Her theory was only partially right since a positive response from her would’ve meant a helluva lot more to me than a bunch of women on the internet. But it also didn’t hurt to see all the “likes” and comments that rolled in in response to the picture I’d posted with the Statue of Liberty emoji as my caption, a grin on my face until I heard Niko yell, “Say, bruh. Are you gonna come get some shots up or what?”
His question snapped me back to reality as I tucked my phone in my duffel bag so that I could join him out on the court, the two of us sharing a hoop with Dre as our rebounder until Coach Kirkwood called us in to talk defensive schemes for tonight’s game.
He was saying a lot of words. But admittedly, most of it went in one ear and out the other since I knew the majority of his suggestions wouldn’t even be applicable to the real live-game situations we’d find ourselves in. And after peeking over at Niko to catch the blank stare on his face as he pretended to listen in, I already knew that no matter what Coach was talking about, tonight would be business as usual for the two of us.
Being down seventeen points at half against a weak ass team was humbling as fuck. And as the nigga who couldn’t seem to buy a basket, it was frustrating as fuck too, a scowl on my face as I listened to Coach Kirkwood spew a whole bunch of motivational bullshit that didn’t really move me since I was too busy trying to figure out why I was playing so bad.
I mean, it was our third away game in a row, so road fatigue could’ve had something to do with it. And Madison Square Garden was still one of the biggest stages in basketball regardless of what team they had representing it, so the nerves that came with that could’ve been it too. Either way, I knew I had to make something shake in the second half so that I wouldn’t end my twenty-third year of life on a loss; that factor alone more motivating than any speech Coach K could give as I blocked out all his noise in favor of focusing on what I needed to do for us to get the win.
Take higher percentage shots.
Make better passes.
Allow tough defense to lead to easy offense.
That last one made me chuckle since it was straight out of Coach Joe’s playbook, knowing he was somewhere out in the crowd providing additional motivation for me to turn shit around on the court. And with a deep breath, I was reminded to “Relax, bruh” in the words of Bleu, the thought of her roasting my ass about taking an L in her city against this particular team making it mandatory that I either come out hot in the third quarter or be ready for her shit talkin’.
Honestly, I was sure the first half had given her more than enough to talk about. But that still didn’t mean I had to add to it, or that I couldn’t rewrite the narrative, feeling genuinely optimistic about the whole thing by the time we headed back out to the court for the only half of the game that mattered.
At least, that’s what I was telling myself so that I could forget all the bullshit I was on in the first, taking a fresh start approach that allowed us to cut their lead down to only six points by the time the fourth quarter rolled around.
Clapping us in as we headed towards the bench, Coach Kirkwood yelled, “We’re right there, fellas! Now let’s finish the job.”
“Yeah, let’s finish this shit,” I agreed as I plopped down in a seat on the bench, taking a quick swig of water and dabbing at my sweaty face with a towel while Coach laid out the game plan that was supposed to get us the victory. But just like earlier, it was a whole lot of words and drawing on his clipboard without any real substance; though I didn’t say anything about it until we were headed back out to the court when I leaned over to Niko and asked, “Man, what do that dude be on?”
Shaking his head, Niko answered, “I can’t even call it, man. We know what we gotta do, though.”
I nodded to agree as we prepared to inbound the ball, making note of the fact that my defender seemed a little gassed as he exited his team’s huddle. And once Niko and I successfully got the ball past half court, it was nothing for me to beat my guy off the dribble and head straight to the cup for an easy basket that put us two points closer to tying the game.
On defense, I turned into a pest, letting Coach Joe’s mantra play in my head as I got a steal then went on a fast break that ended with another easy two points. And my energy seemed to inspire the rest of my squad to step it up a notch on both ends of the court, completely overwhelming the home team who clearly wasn’t used to having to maintain a lead this late in the game.
That was the difference between winners and losers.
Winners focused on getting the win by any means and were equip
ped with the confidence to believe it was possible. Losers were always just… trying not to lose, the subtle difference between the two allowing us to start the quarter on a fifteen to four run and giving us a lead that we thankfully kept until the final buzzer sounded.
It might not have been pretty, but I was happy to be walking off the court with a victory. And I was even happier to find Coach Joe waiting for me in the tunnel after I’d finished my on-court postgame interview, the fact that he was decked out in a full Trojans warm-up sweatsuit like his ass was on the team and that it looked a size too small making me laugh when I asked, “Bro, what I tell you about tryna fit into my clothes?”
Running a hand down the front zipper that was squeezing tightly against his beer belly, he joked, “Ain’t my fault I look better in this outfit than you,” the both of us laughing as I dapped him up before pulling him into a tight hug.
“It’s good to see you, old man.”
“Even better to see you, boy,” Coach Joe responded, smiling proudly when he cupped my shoulder and said, “Thanks again for the tickets.”
“You already know, Coach. Got you on the list for tomorrow too.”
Apparently that news was a surprise to him since he immediately started shaking his head as he insisted, “Now you know you ain’t have to do all that.”
“Ain’t like you get to see me play in person all that often. It’s the least I could do,” I told him, the grateful smile he responded with making it all worth it long before he humbly replied, “Well I sho’ appreciate it.”
On The Rebound Page 7
