“So you really had the hook up, Ma.”
“You know your ma always gets it done, baby.”
The boy smiled and put his arm around Janae’s shoulders, drawing her in for a hug.
“Well, I just came by to pick up an extra bucket, brush, and sponge for my crew.” He looked down and grabbed one of the buckets sitting on the ground near Janae.
“See you later, Ma. I’mma catch up with some of my friends so we can set up our station real quick. The cars are already lining up on the street.” The boy turned to Adam again, extending his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Henderson. Thanks again for helping us save our program.”
Before Adam could reply, James was bounding off again, heading to a group of kids at one of the nearby washing stations. He looked down into the bucket and stopped, then turned around.
“This bucket is missing a sponge,” he yelled. “Got any more?”
Adam looked around and found an extra sponge in one of the nearby buckets. He picked it up without thinking, got into his familiar shooting stance, lined up his shot, and let it fly. He watched it arc in the air, dropping in the bucket James was holding in front of him.
The boy’s jaw dropped, and Adam preened just the slightest bit as the boy returned to them.
“That was a sick shot,” James boasted. “You’re pretty good at that.”
Adam shrugged. “I used to play a little ball back in the day.”
“A little?” Janae quipped. “He used to play in the NCAA and the NBA.”
Adam didn’t have children, but he’d been around enough of them in his educational career to recognize the wide-eyed astonishment on James’ face.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Adam answered. “I got a full ride to Columbia on a basketball scholarship and played for the Nets for a few years.”
“You played for a Division I school? Did you play at the Barclays when Jay-Z brought the Nets to Brooklyn?”
Adam couldn’t help but chuckle at the wide-eyed teenager. “Yeah, I played for a Division I school. I didn’t get to play at the Barclays. The Nets were still in Jersey when I played for them. You play?”
“Nah,” James replied. “I don’t have the hands. But I watch when I’m at my dad’s place.”
Adam’s heart broke just a little as the boy dropped his head when he answered. Like not being able to play was something to be ashamed of, and it didn’t sit well with him.
“There’s no harm in not playing. Your mom tells me you’re pretty good at other things, namely dance and fashion design.” James lifted his eyes to Adam, looking for acceptance. “It’s a skill like any other. Just because you don’t have the hands now, doesn’t mean you can’t develop them. I didn’t start playing until my sophomore year in high school when my gym teacher got me into the game and showed me how to play.”
Janae’s shoulders shook with laugher. “He ain’t lying, baby. He was terrible when he started.”
“Hey,” Adam interjected. “I wasn’t that bad.”
Janae’s laugh became a full-blown bellow. “Yes, you were,” she responded and then turned to her son. “But he got good real quick and before anyone knew it, he was captain of the varsity team with scouts coming out the woodwork for him.”
“That’s some story. You think you could teach me?”
A look passed between Janae and Adam before they looked at James.
“You trying to give up dance?” It wouldn’t have surprised Adam if James was; kids switched hobbies like they did shoes.
“No, sir,” the young man replied. “Dance will always be my first love. But it would be nice to play with my dad or catch a game with my friends every once in a while. Dad works a lot, and I’m alwayspracticing for dance, so there’s not a bunch of time for him to teach me when we hang out together.”
Adam felt something tug at his insides and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. It was a cross between compassion and discomfort, excitement and fear. He glanced at James again, and he understood more than the boy wanted to reveal. James didn’t have an interest in basketball, he just wanted to bond with his father.
“If it’s cool with you and my parents, maybe you can give me a few pointers some time.”
Adam swallowed. Unsure of how to proceed, he turned to Janae, looking for any signs of discomfort or unease. Would he mind teaching her son a few drills? No. But knowing their association was still tenable to say the least, he didn’t know if this was the best look. And most of all, he didn’t want to in some way use her kid to get to her. He might be sprung, but he wasn’t a sleaze by any stretch of the imagination.
