“Smooth.”
What is she doing here?
Kenya Thomas is in the second-to-last photo. I haven’t seen her since she retired from professional cheerleading and left Buffalo. That was, what, two years ago?
We met during the Steel’s first press conference. Players from Buffalo came out to support, and she was there. You can’t miss her in any room she enters. We kicked it and quickly learned how much we have in common. Both of us come from families that own financial businesses. She was busy with her career and finishing up grad school. I had no interest in anything beyond linking up. The only flaw Kenya had was cheering for Buffalo. I don’t care how long I play for the Steel, it’s Baltimore football all day.
An explosion of knocks hits the door.
“What now?” I rip off the sheets and adjust my boxer briefs. “Did you order room service?”
Kendrick sucks his teeth. “This late, the night before a game?”
Another knock.
I damn near snatch the handle off and squint at Shins. He’s in an undershirt and sweats, gripping a pillow to his chest.
“Can I sleep in here?”
“What’s wrong with your bed?”
A loud moan cuts through the wall that separates our rooms. The headboard sends another tremor through the art, which Shins points at and says, “That.”
“Didn’t you call downstairs?” I frown at Kendrick, who’s on his knees praying.
He rubs his temple. “I did.”
“Ahh!”
“Did they not send someone up?” I ask Shins.
“Yes! Right there!”
“Oh, they did.” He pushes his way inside. “Kendrick, can I share with you?”
“Ride my shit, then!” Bread shouts from the other side of the wall.
“Why can’t you sleep with Cap?” Kendrick huffs.
Shins and I shrug. “You’re smaller,” I say, like it’s not obvious.
Kendrick’s glare bounces between us before he sighs. “You owe me—both of you. Keep your ass on the edge.”
Shins moves to the open side of the bed and tosses a pillow between them. “Thanks, man. The noise-canceling headphones don’t work. Do you think we could find a bigger room this season for the three of us to share?”
“To hell with his.” I hop into a pair of basketball shorts and slides. I didn’t sign up for a threesome, and I’ll be damned if I sit my ass on a toilet seat I’m sharing with two other people.
It takes four hard knocks for Bread to answer. I smack his big ass in the forehead and tell Front Desk Brenda to go back to the job that pays her. I know good and damn well her job description does not include riding dick.
There is no reason for the room to smell like pennies and coriander.
Kendrick and Shins are holding each other while summoning the dead with their snores once I get back.
“Comeon,” I mumble.
I consider suffocating them with my pillow, but I choose a safer option, one that won’t end in fifteen to life. Reaching for my phone, I glare at the screen.
No new messages.
