by Mj Fields
“Mr. Rhodes?”
I look away from the wall of glass overlooking the bay and see Bill Smith, the security guard.
“Bill Smith.” I smile, holding my hand out to shake his.
“Heard a rumor.” He wears the same smile every damn time I see him.
“This place is full of them,” I say, looking around.
“I heard congratulations are in order.” His smile widens.
“I thank you.”
“Also hear your new bride is meeting with the coach right now,” he says, his permanent smile gone for the first time ever.
I nod, though she never mentioned it.
“I’m not one to give out unsolicited advice, but if that were my misses up there, I’d be there, too.”
“I told her I’d let her handle it,” I say begrudgingly.
He smiles. “I see.”
“Me, too,” I tell him as I make my way to the elevator.
“That’s our champion,” I hear Bill say as he laughs behind me. “That’s number 23, our VIP.”
When I get off the elevator and walk into the reception area for the first time since I have been here, I see Christa and James with their ears to Courtney’s office door.
They look back, neither even trying to hide the fact that they are eavesdropping.
“Who’s in there with her?” I ask.
“Coach, Larry, and the three investors that Brock and Coach had lined up to buy out the team.”
“Three what?”
“Shh...” James scolds, putting his ear back to the door.
I pace for a while, and then I hear Coach D yell, “That’s bullshit!”
I can’t fucking stand out here and let some asshole talk to her like that.
“Move,” I order, pushing past James.
When I open the door, all eyes are on me.
Courtney stands up. “Is everything okay?
“Just wanted to touch base before I head home,” I tell her, planting my ass in the chair next to Larry.
“This is his damn fault!” Coach points at me.
I start to open my mouth, but Courtney holds her hand up, telling me to stop. I bite my tongue.
“No, Coach, this is your fault, and we’re here to give you an out. These gentlemen want their money, and we’re offering you a way to pay them back,” she says calmly.
“If I walk!” He slams his fist on the table and stands. “I built this team, you little bitch.”
“Say that shit to her one more time and I will throw you the fuck out of here,” I say as calmly as possible.
“You”—he points—“have no business—”
“She’s my wife; she is my business.” I stand. “Court, a minute please?”
“Please excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.” She walks toward a door behind her desk, and I follow her in.
Closing the door behind me, she turns and looks at me trying to hide her annoyance.
“Hi,” I say.
She sighs. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving in a few hours and wanted to take you on a date.”
She looks at the door. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Bill told me.”
“Bill from Gate D?” she asks with a slight smile.
“Was from Gate A. I think management moved him.”
“He likes to interact with you players, and...” She stops. “I’m in the middle of something.”
I shrug. “I’m not leaving.”
“We discussed this, Trae.” She crosses her arms in front of her.
“We didn’t discuss shit, Court. You didn’t tell me you found out he owed three goons money. I mean, what if they try some shit with you?”
She huffs. “I have Larry, Christa, James, and Bill.”
“You’d be so fucked.”
“They’re not goons.”
“How much does he owe them?”
“A million each.”
“That kind of money makes you a goon, Court. Don’t kid yourself.” She’s naive. So fucking naive.
“Can I go finish this up?”
“Yeah, we can,” I tell her, pushing myself off the wall.
“Trae, I need to do this. You’ll be gone in a year, and I won’t gain enough respect from this community if you don’t let me do this on my own.” She shakes her head. “Please.”
“I won’t say shit, but I’m not leaving.” I reach past her, opening the door.
“Then know that I’m pissed at you,” she hisses like her mom does as she passes me.
“I can handle that,” I hiss back.
When we come back out, I sit at her desk chair instead of the table, looking at the pictures and avoiding eye contact with Coach. Regardless, I can feel the weight of his stare.
“Coach, this is my final offer, and it is more than fair.” She pushes a paper forward. “They get their money back, and you get a severance package, which is more than I should offer.”
“This is my team, dammit,” he says. “I built it. Your father wouldn’t have been able to do this on his own, and you sure as hell can’t. You have Rhodes filling your head with shit, and you’re buying it hook, line, and sinker. You aren’t the first person he’s manipulated, and you certainly won’t be the last.”
“This has nothing to do with him whatsoever. And I do not have to explain myself to you.” She looks at her wrist. “Take it or leave it. I am done. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
“You better take the damn deal, old man,” a tall man with salt and pepper hair tells him. “This young woman is giving you a gift. You are two weeks behind on delivering a promise. I don’t walk with money, I make a call and your ass will be in jail.”
Coach D pushes the paper back at her. “I want to ensure Boeheim stays on this team. You put that in writing, and you have a deal.”
Don’t fucking do it, Court, I think.
She stands up. “I’m sorry I wasted your time, gentlemen.”
“Wait just a damn minute,” Coach grumbles, pulling the paper back and signing it.
She looks over her shoulder at me, and I can see the weight of the world lifting off her shoulders.
As promised, I don’t say shit. I simply give her a nod.
Larry hands the three men paperwork and asks them to sign it before handing them a check. Meanwhile, Coach storms out, the three men watching him leave.
A Texan-looking guy asks her, “Why’d you save his ass?”
“It’s a new beginning, and I don’t want anyone thinking they have any sort of claim to my arena or team.”
“Charlie would be proud of you,” he says, shaking her hand. “You ever need help, I’m in. I’m curious where this team is going to go.”
“We have a great team, great staff, and we’re going to make this year better than last, and the year after better than this.” She smiles proudly, shaking all their hands before they leave.
When the door closes, she and Larry then shake hands.
“We’ll get coaching contracts drawn up over the weekend, and get back to business Monday.”
“Wednesday and Thursday are media days here. I want to introduce the world to the new staff,” she says with excitement in her voice.
“Trae.” Larry nods as he walks over to me, hand extended.
I stand and shake his hand. “Thank you for looking out for her best interest.”
“You, too,” he says with sincerity.
As soon as he leaves, I walk around the desk to grab her up, but Christa and James come barging in with champagne and glasses.
“It’s done!” Christa squeals.
“It’s just begun,” Courtney says, taking a glass. She looks back at me and motions me over, handing me a glass.
“To the best team in the NBA,” James toasts.
“To my best friend,” Christa adds then looks at me, but I have nothing I want to say in front of the two of them.
I tip my glass to her father’s picture. “To you, sir, and to you.” I tap Courtney
’s glass.
She smiles at me, and then at the picture.
When they leave, I shut the door behind them. “I want you to come with me.” When she starts to say no, I continue, “He’s pissed and has nothing to lose. I don’t want you here without me.”
“Trae, I have a lot to do in the next few days. I’m not going anywhere. You need time with your daughter, and I need time to put things in place for my team. I’m not leaving at the end of this season. I’m hoping like crazy I can make this place great. The past week has been amazing, but I’m not going to lie and say you barging in here didn’t break a little bit of my trust.”
“You just handed out checks that were built on my trust for you without so much as telling me it was going to happen today. How is that a fucking partnership?”
She looks at her watch.
“Fuck this.” I walk out the door.
The fuck if she is going to look at her damn watch when she’s with me. Unacceptable. It even says so on her fucking finger. I hope she looks at the damn thing the entire time I’m gone and wishes she had come with me.
I keep walking until I am at Gate D.
“Coach is gone.” Bill smiles. “How’s your lady?”
“She’s pissed, I’m pissed, and I have a plane to catch.”
“Going to see your little girl?”
This man knows everything.
“Yes, for the weekend.”
“Well, you enjoy your time and come back hungry.”
I pat his back. “Sure will.”
Before walking out, I look back.
“Bill, how’s security around here?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Could be tighter.”
“I don’t trust Coach or Boeheim.”
“You want me to put some people on her?”
“You have people?” I ask with a laugh.
“Sure do.” He grins broader.
“I want you.” I point at him.
He nods. “You’ve got me.”
After giving him Courtney’s address and my phone number, I start to tell him who I want him to watch out for. He tells me he knows more than I do about this team and this place, shoos me out the door, and I leave hoping like hell she looks at the damn watch the entire time I’m gone, wishing I was here.
***
WHEN I WALK INTO THE house, Mom texts me that they are in Callie’s room.
I know it’s bedtime and how important her schedule is, but I have been away from her longer than I have in a couple of years.
Nighttime has always been my favorite. She likes to be held then. She is calm, so calm compared to the nonstop pace she goes at from the time her feet hit the ground until about noon when she naps for a good hour and a half, and then at seven after her bath.
Mom looks up when I walk into the room and smiles as she brushes her hair.
“Daddy’s here,” she says softly to my little girl.
I sit on the bed and pat my lap. She climbs up and sits with her back to me. Then Mom hands me the brush before leaving the room, and I take over, trying to be as gentle as I can while getting the knots out.
When I finish, I set the brush down, and she points to an area next to the brush.
“My bad,” I say before moving it where it’s supposed to be.
I then pat the bed, and she climbs down, pushing her feet under the covers. I pull off my socks and do the same. Then I pull up the blanket up as she rests her head on my arm.
“Daddy loves you, Callie,” I whisper before kissing the top of her head.
It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep after Mom steps in and turns off the light. Hell, it doesn’t take me long, either.
I wake up at three in the morning and scoot out of bed to use the bathroom. When I finish, I walk out to grab a glass of water and see Mom asleep on the couch with a book laying across her chest.
I move the book, turn off the light, and start to walk away.
“Trae?”
I turn back as she sits up.
“Sleep, Mom. You have two nights to catch up on your sleep.”
“I stopped sleeping more than four hours at a time the day you were born.” She smiles and gets up.
“I’m sorry,” I say with all sincerity.
“Don’t be silly.” She walks past me and to the fridge. Handing me a bottle of water, she sits at the kitchen island and points to the seat across from her. “Have a seat, and let’s talk about Courtney.”
I shake my head, shrug, and then sit down. “I have no clue what I’m doing. She’s so stubborn.” And sexy.
She laughs. “Slow down and start from the beginning.”
“I know I messed up, but it only feels like it when I’m not with her.”
She nods. “Go on.”
“I thought this would be easy. That I could stick with the plan. We’d be set here, and Callie could have the best therapists and things money could buy. That I could go to Seattle, play a game I love, show Brock he didn’t fucking win, and then piss him off by playing grab ass with her.”
“What changed?”
“I saw her.”
I figure it’s best not to go into detail about what exactly happened when I saw Courtney walking off the court that first day. That her ass was a fucking work of art. That with every fiber of my being, I knew I had to have her, and that Brock fucking Boeheim calling dibs made it so I would make sure I did.
I don’t tell her that, when I opened the door to the locker room and saw Courtney standing on the other side, I was looking at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and that my dick was in charge in the locker room.
I don’t tell her about the strength Courtney portrayed during that meeting, taking them all by the balls, and that when they all left and she thought she was alone, I saw her struggling and it infuriated me and made me want to protect her.
I don’t tell her that my dick, my heart, and my fucking conscience have been in a three-way race to win a piece of Courtney. Doesn’t matter which gets to her first, or which piece takes it, just that it ends with her and me and a connection.
“And you fell in love with her.”
“Fell in something.” I sigh. “It’s been years since I have just let loose and haven’t thought about...” I stop, not wanting to speak my thoughts, because it sounds so fucking wrong.
“Callie is fine, Trae.”
“I miss the hell out of her.”
“We talked about this.” She laughs softly. “Do you remember anything before kindergarten?”
I shrug. “Some things.”
“Developmentally, she’s about two and a half years old.”
“I know that.” I stand up and start pacing.
“You have a few months of hard work ahead of you. After that, you will have all the time in the world and money enough to live comfortably, not extravagantly, for the rest of your life. We went through this for two months. It was the plan.”
I nod. “Still the plan.”
“Then why are you here?” she asks. “We had visits planned as well.”
“Courtney...” I sigh out, sitting back down.
“She told you to come home?” She looks pleasantly surprised.
I nod. “But said if I didn’t come back, she’d drag me back.”
“So, she’s in love with you, too,” she states.
I shake my head. “We know it ends with the season. Gonna be friends.”
She smiles. “But you don’t want it to?”
I shake my head. “I don’t wanna feel like this.”
“Like you’re in love?”
“Stop saying that word,” I grumble. “It can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“She owns the team, Mom. Her life is in Seattle. Mine’s here.”
“You could always move.”
“This is your dream.” I motion around the house. “Callie...Jesus, do you remember the last move?”
She laughs. “Sure do. Your younger brothers and our Callie all raising hell.
”
“They didn’t want to leave where they were raised, the memories attached to their father. I get it.”
“Yet they came. Two as grown men and one in college.”
“To be with you,” I point out.
“To be with all of us,” she corrects with a smile. “We’re family.”
My stepfather passed away during my junior year in college in a car accident. He and Mom have four boys. My brothers and I are tight, but the age difference is pretty steep. There are six years between Mom and Jess’s older boy Degan and I. Jess Jr., the youngest, is still in high school.
“Trae, you and I have moved a lot. You were five when I married Jess. We survived going from the Bronx to the Midwest, where your brothers were raised, and they survived the move here.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Courtney and I have no plans to keep this charade up.”
“Do me a favor?”
I nod.
“Live your season for you. You deserve this more than anyone I know. Stick with the plan. But don’t live it by watching each minute pass by and knowing it’s going to end.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
“Trae, things will work out the way they are intended.”
I sit and drink my water, thinking about what she said, about time.
I look at my damn finger. Her Time.
“Does she know everything about Callie?”
“No.”
“Trae...” She shakes her head.
“She doesn’t need to.”
***
A YEAR AND A HALF ago, Callie finally learned to walk. As soon as the fear of the unknown was out of the way, she didn’t stop moving. Her feet hit the floor, and she was into everything.
We built her a room based on research we had done on both FAS and autism, since we really don’t know what we are facing and won’t for a couple more years. We built it in hopes to help her development, comfort, safety, we covered all bases, as best we could.
Two months ago, she went into the biggest tantrum I have ever experienced when I tried to get her to walk across the lawn, and I have experienced some major ones.
Now, I laugh out loud as Callie runs from the door to the garden.
“Don’t forget her blue mat!” Mom calls after me as she jogs toward me with it.
Blue is her calm, and she seems to seek it out when she feels anxious. Not all the time, but sometimes, and it’s fucking cool. Hell, I would paint the world blue for her if I could.
