I compartmentalize, swallow the emotion seeing Iris’s ring spurred in me, and look around the room, wall to wall with young faces—mostly black and brown. I remember what it was like to grow up here; the quest I was on, searching for my identity; feeling caught between worlds and comfortable nowhere. Many of these kids are struggling, too. Maybe not because they’re biracial and wondering how to categorize themselves, but struggling to reconcile the harsh realities of their lives with the vastness of their dreams—with their impossible ambitions. I understand dreaming dreams that are too big and chasing a life that most never catch. Against all odds, I have that life and am living that dream.
“I’m not here to tell you how to become a professional basketball player,” I start without preamble. “There are no guarantees, and most likely, none of you ever will make it to the NBA.”
A few faces fall at this bit of reality, but I have their attention. With middle-schoolers, that’s most of the battle. Iris walks in and takes a place at the back with the other two women here volunteering. Her sad eyes meet mine, but this time I look away. I’m not getting caught in that trap again.
“Even guys, and girls,” I say with a smile at a few of the young ladies on the front row, “who have the talent don’t always make the cut. Basketball is not the point. Dreaming is the point.”
I risk the briefest glance in Iris’s direction, and even with her shadowed eyes, she’s the brightest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I know what it’s like to want something you’ll probably never have.” Our eyes hold for the briefest moment before I tear mine away. “I understand the disappointment of someone saying you’ll never be able to. Dream of something else. There are too many things that say you can’t, so I’m here to say you can. Can what?”
I shrug, turning the corners of my mouth down. “Can whatever.” I point to my leg. “How many of you saw the game when I went down?”
Hands go up. Sympathetic grimaces cross several faces.
“Yeah, it was tough. Something I worked for my whole life felt like it might be over in an instant. I’ve spent the time since my surgery reconciling myself to that possibility. What if basketball was over for me?”
I scan the rapt faces, finding an answering hunger and curiosity in so many.
“If that happens, I’m not gonna front like I wouldn’t be messed up, because I would be.” I pause for them to laugh, giving them a smile, too. “But I found my place here in this community center, at Saturday pick-up games, in summer league, and camps. This place, more than any other, taught me to reach for something more. I know things aren’t always great at home. I know things don’t always make sense at school. I even know that sometimes, you want to quit, because I wanted to a million times.”
I slant them a wry grin. “Sometimes I still do, but I won’t ever. This place taught me that. The counselors here and the students—the other dreamers.” I point through the door and squint one eye. “My mom’s house is about ten miles that way. This city is my home. I sat exactly where you’re sitting years ago listening to someone tell me I could do whatever I wanted to do, even though my dream was unlikely.”
I lift my leg a little, lift my jeans, making sure they can all see the Aircast. “I’ve decided I’m coming back stronger and faster than ever. I’ve decided I’ll return sooner than everyone thinks I can and better than they expect me to be,” I say. “While I was lying on my back with these pins in my leg and everyone speculating about my future, I decided that I wouldn’t give up hope. Hope is the gap between what if and what is, but you have to fill that gap with a lot of hard work. And that’s what we’re going to talk about this week. Hope. Dreams. Work.”
I glance at my watch and then to the pizzas Iris and the other two women are setting up at the back of the room. “I think your lunch is here. My time’s up for today, but if you wanna talk, I’ll be here for a few minutes while the food is being served.”
I’m signing autographs and talking to the kids who gather around after my talk. I give them my full attention but sense Iris’s eyes on me every once in a while. It’s a heady feeling to be in the same room with her for this long, something I’ve wanted so I could test these sensations and see if they hold up under normal wear and tear. Now, it doesn’t matter. Once she’s another man’s wife, these feelings aren’t to hold up, but to be put down. And I’ll start doing that today as ruthlessly as I’d approach an opponent on court. Only the opponent is me, because the stubborn part of me that never let me give up on my dream of playing in the NBA doesn’t want me to give up on her either.
Sylvia and I are walking toward the exit, reviewing plans for the week. I’ll talk, share some drills with those who play basketball, though I’m limited in what I can physically do, and participate in a beautification project in one of the rec rooms.
We’re wrapping up when Iris calls my name.
She’s walking toward us, her daughter on her hip. This isn’t fair. Both of them? If you ever want a man to keep dreaming, give him a glimpse of what could be.
They could be mine.
A wave of misplaced possessiveness rolls through me. The thought of them returning to Caleb’s house grinds my teeth together. The thought of Iris in his bed is physically painful, clenching my gut. They’re both Caleb’s, and I covet them.
But one flash of that however-many-carat diamond on her finger reminds me how futile hope is.
When they reach us, Iris glances uncertainly from me to Sylvia and clears her throat.
“August, could I, um, speak to you before you go?” she asks, fixing her eyes on me and not straying to Sylvia.
“Sure,” I say easily, like she and I talk every day. “See you tomorrow, Sylvia.”
Sylvia interprets the comment as the dismissal it is and considers us speculatively before smiling, saying her goodbyes, and walking away.
“You need something?” I ask abruptly. “My ride’s probably waiting.”
She flinches at the impatience in my voice, and I feel like an asshole. Sarai wiggles on her hip and blinks at me with long, curly lashes. I bend until I’m level with Sarai and smile into her violet–blue eyes. I’ll regret this, but the kid’s as irresistible as her mother.
“She’s gotten so big,” I tell Iris but don’t look away from the little girl staring back at me.
“Yeah.” Iris laughs. Sarai’s dark curls have grown longer since I last saw her, and Iris brushes them back from her face. “It’s going too fast already.”
Sarai reaches out and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my face closer. It also brings me closer to Iris. I ignore the electric field our nearness creates and focus on Sarai. She drags her little hand over my eyes and nose, leaving a wet trail of exploration.
“Oh, God.” Iris points to the wet patch I feel on my cheek. “She got you. I’m sorry.”
When I allow myself to look at Iris again, the shadow is gone. Humor and affection light her eyes, for her daughter, maybe for me. If anything, she’s more beautiful than the girl I met in the bar a few years ago. There’s a strength, a maturity, a resolve—I don’t know what has added dimension to what she was before, but it stirs a hunger in me. Not just to taste her body, but to know her heart. To read her mind and share her thoughts.
Fuck. I cannot make myself stop wanting this woman. And as Sarai flashes her little dimpled smile up at me, I want her in my life, too. I want too much. I want things I can’t have, things that aren’t mine, but that kid who showed up every Saturday before the community center doors opened, who was always the last to leave the court, he never learned to stop wanting impossible things.
The humor fades from Iris’s eyes, the smile melts from her wide, sweet mouth, and she releases a ragged breath. She feels it, too. I don’t have to ask if she does. Her widened eyes and stuttering breath, the answering jerk of awareness from her body to mine tell me. But too much stands between us: another man and the gaudy ring on her finger, circumstances I don’t understand. We’re separated by an incalculable dista
nce, but she feels so close.
“I’m not engaged,” she says softly, catching me off guard.
“What’d you say?” I glare at the ring on her left hand. “Then what does that ring mean?”
“Caleb asked me to marry him, but I haven’t said yes.” Her jaw flexes and her eyes ice over. “I don’t plan to say yes, but he wants me to wear it for now—wants me to think about it.”
“I don’t get it.” The more she reveals, the less I understand.
“I know, and I can’t fully explain, but one day I will. I have to work this out on my own.” She drops a kiss on Sarai’s head resting on her shoulder. “Just know that she’s the most important thing—securing Sarai’s future is the most important thing.”
“Securing her future? You mean money? Do you need money, because I can—”
“Please don’t insult me. I’m not with Caleb for the money.” A quick frown pleats her dark brows. “I mean, money is a factor, but not the way you might think.”
If hope is the gap between what if and what is, her words, these few moments shorten that distance. I tentatively run a hand over Sarai’s soft curls. She giggles and buries her head in Iris’s shoulder, shyly peeking back out at me. God, these two could tie me in a knot with their hands behind their backs. Effortlessly.
“I better go.” Iris looks at her watch, her eyes wide and panicked. “My ride’s probably waiting, too.”
“You didn’t drive?” I walk beside her, holding the door open so she can pass ahead of me.
She glances across the street and up the sidewalk in the direction of a large black SUV. Her eyes go wide and she swallows, looking back to me.
“Don’t walk with …You don’t need to walk with us. We’ll be fine. My ride’s here.”
She swings her head back to look at the SUV once more before flashing me a quick smile and wave.
“I gotta go,” she repeats. “See you tomorrow.”
Before I can reply, she dashes across the street. A huge body-builder looking guy steps out and helps her and Sarai into the back seat. He stares at me once they’re inside, his presence like a threat—like a warning. He makes me want to snatch Iris and Sarai away from him. I stand there frozen, feeling helplessly protective until the red taillights disappear around the corner.
“Gus!”
I turn toward the only person who calls me that. Jared is parked a few feet away. I’m still not driving much, so he dropped me off.
I tap the hood of his low-slung sports car. “Dude, you’re such a poser.” I laugh and slide into the front seat, careful of my throbbing leg.
“You’re just jealous of my whip,” Jared replies.
“That fact that you used the word ‘whip’ in an actual conversation makes my point.”
We share a grin, but Jared’s ebbs as quickly as it appeared. “Was that who I think it was?” he asks, never one to pull punches. “Walking out with you? The chick with the kid?”
“Who?” I conveniently find something outside my window fascinating. “Was that who?”
“Cut the shit. That was Caleb’s girlfriend, Iris DuPree, wasn’t it?”
I swivel a curious look around to him. “How do you know Iris?”
“I interviewed her maybe two years ago for an internship,” he says. “She’s sharp.”
“Yeah, she is. Why didn’t you give her a job then?”
“Because at the end of the interview, she threw up all over me.” Jared’s grin is rueful. “She found out she was pregnant. I offered her a job, but by then she was on bed rest and couldn’t work. I believe she was on bed rest almost the entire pregnancy.”
Pregnant. Unable to work or earn money. Confined to the bed for months. No wonder she said she’d had hard choices to make. It sounds like she did the only thing she could do—stay with Caleb.
It infuriates me. She barely knew me. Of course, she wouldn’t have turned to me, but I wish she had. I would have done anything to keep her free of him.
“Please tell me this hasn’t all been about her. Tell me you didn’t provoke Caleb and jeopardize your career, a thirty-million-dollar contract for some chick?”
“Some chick?” I lift one eyebrow. “You must not remember her if you think she’s just some chick.”
“I do remember her. I know how she looks.” Jared shows his disgust in the scrunch of his brows. “You sound whipped. I assumed it was just pussy.”
“Watch your mouth, Jared,” I snap and point a warning finger at him.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect, but damn. She lives with Caleb. They have a kid together. It’s really inconvenient if you have a thing for her, Gus.”
“We’re friends.” I rebuke him with a glare. “And don’t call me Gus.”
Jared knows I hate the childhood nickname and uses it to get on my nerves. I have enough on my nerves without adding him.
“So this dirty play was about Iris?” Jared asks. “I saw her at the game with her daughter.”
“Yeah, I saw her, too.”
“Doing rehab here in Maryland—that isn’t about her, is it?” Jared shakes his head, not waiting for my answer. “And now you’re conveniently volunteering with her.”
I tip my head back into the soft leather of the headrest, answering with only a sigh.
Jared bangs a fist into the steering wheel. “Dammit, August. What part of ‘keep the hell away from my girl’ do you not understand? What’s Caleb gonna have to break next for you to get the message?”
I snap narrowed eyes over to him. “I’d like to see that motherfucker try to break something else.” I adjust my seat, leaning back, worn out from the few hours at the community center. “There’s more going on than meets the eye. She’s wearing his ring, but she tells me they’re not engaged.”
“Maybe she’s playing you both. The only thing better than having one rich man strung out on you is having two.”
“Shut the hell up. If you’ve met Iris, you know she’s not like that.”
“She seemed like a nice girl. Driven. Bright. Sharp. I wanted her on my team,” Jared admits. “That doesn’t mean she’s not trouble.”
“Well if she’s trouble, it’s trouble I want to get into,” I tell him, defiance in the look I level at him from the passenger seat. “She made sure I knew she wasn’t engaged for a reason. She doesn’t want me to give up.”
“But you should.”
“But I won’t.” I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”
“What I get is that because of your preoccupation with Caleb’s baby mama, your leg is broken, your career is up in the air, your team may trade your ass, and everything you’ve worked for your whole life is in jeopardy. For some pussy.”
“It’s not like that. She—”
“Oh, so you don’t want to fuck her?”
Of course, I want to fuck her. What am I? A eunuch?
“Not just that.” I try to stop it, but my lips twitch at the corners.
“It’s not funny,” Jared says, but when I look over at him, his lips are twitching, too. We both give in and chuckle.
It gets quiet while we zip through the familiar streets. So many Saturdays through the years he brought me to the community center in his beat-up Camry. We talked about my farfetched dream of playing in the NBA. Of him managing the biggest names in sports. Of how we’d sit on top of the world together.
Now, we’re in his Porsche. I’m a baller, a brand with one of the highest-selling jerseys in the league. One of the fattest contracts a rookie’s ever gotten. And I’d risk it all for a girl? I know what he means, but I want more than basketball. I want a life beyond that. I’m not saying that life is with Iris, but I am saying I’ve never felt with anyone else what I feel with her, and I have to chase that as hard as I chased basketball. What I felt today, what I’ve felt every time I’ve been with her, it’s real and it’s special. It’s worth chasing. If I don’t try, I’ll always wonder.
What if the thing that seems like an impossible dream is within my grasp?
27
Iris
I shouldn’t have told him I wasn’t engaged.
It’s selfish and reckless to encourage August. At least until I get out from under Caleb. At some point, I know I’ll have to ask someone for help, but it will be at the right time when I have the tools not only to escape from Caleb, but to keep him out of our lives. Until I have that, I should be so careful about every step I take, and indulging myself, my yearning for what I see in August’s eyes and feel in his touch … It’s anything but careful. If Caleb is capable of half the things I think he is, recklessness could get August hurt even more than he already has been.
But August’s expression when he saw Caleb’s ring … Devastation? Betrayal? Disappointment? Defeat? It was all those things on one handsome face. And maybe it was the defeat I hated most—the thought that he would give up on whatever it is that blooms between us like a flower, opening up a little more each time we’re together.
I can stand back and objectively say it shouldn’t feel this powerful, whatever is between us. We haven’t spent that much time together, but from that first night, August felt like a milestone in my life. Like a turning point—like a hinge parts of my future swung on. And if he gives up, we’ll never know what we could be when all the obstacles are gone. When Caleb doesn’t stand between us.
“Two hours,” Ramone says from the front seat, his stony stare a warning in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be back in two hours.”
It’s unnecessary, Ramone’s abrupt reminder that time at the community center is merely a furlough from my prison. I’m at the house every night alone, and it’s bliss compared to how it is when Caleb’s there. But I’m lonely, and I felt it most starkly last night after seeing August. Time with him resurrected my senses and summoned butterflies in my stomach I thought were long dead.
Without responding to Ramone, I climb out of the back seat and load Sarai into her stroller. I don’t look at him once before I start across the street and enter the community center.
Ms. Audrey takes Sarai with a gentle smile, and Sarai is crawling around with the other babies before I’m even out of sight. The socialization is good for her. I wish there were more opportunities for that, but Caleb won’t hear of it, much less pay for it. That would leave too many factors out of his control.
LONG SHOT: (A HOOPS Novel) Page 20
