“Yeah, I know exactly what it is. I got an all-star player that can’t seem to control himself. I see my all-star player deciding to put his hands on a teammate. How you think that’s gon’ play out?”
“Coach, why is he even still here?”
“Santoro, you know I don’t got no control over that. I’ve been talking to the people, and we’re trying to do everything we can to get through this season. I’ve been talking to you about that. This is your last season. He’s a up-and-coming. I don’t know what decision they’re gonna make over a personal issue between players, but this is your last season. I need you to be focused on this last season, and if that’s too much for you, then it’s over. It’s gonna be hard enough for me to try and explain this incident. What we doing here? Is it over? What I need, Santoro, is at halftime, our all-star player to step on that floor and take us to the big game. If you’re not that person, then don’t even leave out this locker room. Get out my office.”
I headed out of the office and back into the locker room. I sat away from the team for a few minutes to get my head together.
When the break was over, my teammates looked at me.
“You ready, man?” Song asked.
I looked at the team. A slow smile crept over my face, and I bumped fists with Song and the rest of them. “Y’all my dogs. Let’s whup their asses,” I declared.
My brothers chanted loudly as we headed out of the locker room. It was all about them, never about me. I could never let them down. I had that fire in me. We were one.
We finished the game off strong, fighting until the end. We won by three points. I was sitting in my parents’ kitchen as they moved around me. Although they attended most games, they never waited for me after a game. I always caught up with them whenever we had a home game.
Things were tense, but I wanted to finish the season as a winner because it wasn’t about the money for me; it was about the respect. I knew that Coach kept telling me to hold on, but I prayed that things would change for the better. I wasn’t sure how we could finish off the season with so much animosity between us.
Driving to my parents’ house, my thoughts returned to Muffin, who I had argued with earlier before the game. No sooner than those photos of Chanel and me hit the internet, she had been blowing up my phone, accusing me of cheating on her all along. She called me daily either cursing me out or crying, asking how I could do her that way. How could I make her feel guilty about what she was doing when, all along, I had been doing the same thing. No matter what I said, she chose to believe that I had broken our vows first.
“It’s not right, Michael,” Mama complained.
“It may not be right, Cass, but it’s real. Besides, Leale knows what he needs to do to stay out of trouble,” my father replied, calling me by my middle name, which was Italian for loyal.
I had told my parents about what went down in the locker room, because they noticed that Alex had not returned to the game.
“Real or not real, someone needed to whup that boy’s ass. We’ve always talked about how spoiled he is and throwing tantrums on the court. It’s no surprise that happened. She got with him strictly to piss my baby off. She knew how we all felt about him.”
“Yeah, we have been very vocal about our dislike of Alex, even when Leale was taking up for him.”
“If I’ve told these boys once, I’ve told them a thousand times, everyone is not your friend, and you can’t trust no man where your woman is concerned,” Mama fussed.
“Would you two please quit talking about me as if I’m not here?” I piped up before shoving another piece of my mother’s homemade pineapple upside down cake into my mouth.
After leaving the stadium, I hadn’t wanted to attend any parties or go home alone. I wanted to be with my parents. My mother was my comfort and peace, and my father would rake my ass over the coals and hold me accountable as a man. It was the perfect balance to my fucked-up mentality at the time.
“What are you going to do, Leale?”
“I don’t know, Papà. I have to wait to see what they decide. It’s fucked up?—”
“Language!” my mother chided in a harsh tone.
“Sorry, Ma. We’re determined not only to make it to the playoffs again this year but win the championship too. I can’t not play in the finals if we make it.”
“You can’t let your temper get the best of you.”
“Papà, you don’t get it. Looking in his face, knowing what he stole from me?—”
“He stole nothing, Figlio. Your wife gave herself to him. She chose to be with that man.”
“And he knew we were married.”
“That may be true, but he did not steal anything from you. Clearly, they did not mean anything to each other because they both went on with their lives. After those few days you told us about, he ended up being with someone else. I know that it hurts, but what she’s done to you is not worth risking your future, your career, or your freedom. You two are almost over now. What are you fighting for? Surely not for her, because you chose to let her go. Surely not for her reputation, because she doesn’t care about it.”
“She may have screwed up, but she wasn’t the only one,” I muttered, pushing the dessert plate away with a few crumbs.
“What’s that mean?” Mama asked.
