“How did you feel out there?”
“What was your strategy for tonight’s game?”
Several reporters spoke at the same time, but I addressed the more important one first.
“I won’t speak on my sister at this time.” Hell, I didn’t even know what was going on with Naomi, and it was rude of them to question me about something that should’ve remained private until the information was offered to them.
Again, several questions flew out with me picking up on the one that sounded the most offensive.
“You scored eighteen points tonight, hardly your best game, but your team pulled through. What’s your strategy going into the semi-finals with a better scoring team in Denver?”
Armani was a smooth, Black dude who knew he was fine and acted like many Black people were beneath him. I knew of him because he was one of the reporters with a big-time sports station that talked hella shit about women’s sports. He for one couldn’t stand women’s basketball but pretended to like it for the sake of his job. Not to mention, he’d done a five-minute monologue on why I’d “regret” leaving New York the way that I did.
“I scored eighteen points, had ten rebounds, and eight assists. When is achieving a double-double not having a good game?”Especially after my fucking sister collapsed on the court!I wanted to scream. “As far as my strategy, I intend to do what I do best and play my position.”
Armani blinked at me, and I blinked at him. He wasn’t about to try and make me look inadequate without me checking him for it.
“Coming into the series, you seemed a little nervous,” he continued, but was cut off by another reporter.
“First off, congratulations on advancing, and I pray your sister is okay.” Malaysia was a part of the same network as Armani, only she seemed genuine enough. “How was it going up against your old teammates? A few times, there seemed to be some back and forth between you and them.”
Gina’s ass was the issue. She kept talking shit, and I wasn’t for the shit-talking.
“It’s competitive on the court, especially during the post season. I expect this type of heart to be shown out there. That’s all it is, is everyone wanting to achieve the same goal. My team just happened to pull it off.” I was remaining classy rather than saying what I really wanted to. If I had faced Gina on the street courts, her ass would’ve gotten knocked the fuck out for some of the shit she’d said tonight.
Each reporter vied for the last question. I wished they’d just hurry the fuck up. My eyes watered again. I had to get the fuck out of there! I kept glancing at Zoo, and his eyes held just as much weight as mine. Once the last question was answered, I was running out of there and going straight to my sister.
ZOO
I’d been by Pen’s side an entire season, now. It started with menot wanting to see a damn game to me being ateverygame. It was almost as if Ihadto show up to make sure the referees and players were doing right by my shawty. Somehow, I ended up making myself her friend even when she gave me some pushback in the beginning.
Growling, I wanted to storm to the table and snatch up Pen. It irritated me that no one had the decency to let her skip this shit. Nah. Entertainment was just that. These muthafuckas didn’t give a damn what a person was going through. It was only about their next story they had the feed the vultures on the other end of the tube.
Ol’ boy with the activated waves was gon’ get his head knocked off. I recognized his curl and swirl ass from one of the sports networks but couldn’t place his name. Either way, I was gon’ send him home with those waves peeled back for trying to play on Pen’s name.
I gave Brooklyn Pen’s things and sent him to retrieve my truck while I waited for her to finish answering questions. By the way she kept making eye contact with me, I knew she’d be ready to dip once she was done. Although she kept her cool up there, I felt Pen’s urgency to get to her sister.
Bri, who stood next to me, looked on just as impatient as I was. She, too, was ready to get out of there. She fidgeted with her fingers and kept biting her lips, anxiously waiting for this shit to be over with. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I shot a text to Brooklyn.
Me:I think you should drive Bri. She looks too upset to be driving anywhere.
Cuzzo:Bet.
“Brooklyn is gon’ drive you to the hospital,” I informed Bri without giving her the opportunity to decline. In her state, she’d wreck her shit trying to make it to the hospital.
She peeked at me under thick, wet eyelashes and nodded. “Okay.” Taking an audible deep breath, she squared her shoulders and went to join Pen in front of the cameras.
As upset as I was that Pen had to endure this, I was proud of her for holding her own. My girl was strong and poised in front of the cameras, but the friend in me saw straight through her. She was ready to break down. If I could, I would’ve stepped into her place and handled this shit for her.
Accidently, we’d become close in the months since we’d met. I went from wanting to fuck the life out of her, to wanting to really see the best for her. Pen pried her mean ass into my existence, and somehow, I was fine with it. I wanted to protect her like I would someone I loved. The thought had me moving closer to the stairs leading to the stage as I saw her standing from her seat.
Reaching for her hand, she took it and barely fell into my arms before I swooped her off her feet. As if she’d done it a million times, her legs went around my waist as she buried her head in my neck. Her arms wrapped around my neck, holding on as if I would drop her.
Effortlessly, I carried her through the tunnel. Any other time, my hands gripping her ass would’ve produced sexual urges that only she’d be able to fulfill. Right now, none of that shit ran through my mind. Being photographed and recorded but tending to her gave me no concern either. My concern was the woman in my arms whose tears wet my neck.
Outside, I spotted my truck parked behind a row of other cars positioned near the exit. Heavy security manned the parking lot as fans were usually rowdy after a game of this magnitude. Although the players’ parking lot was roped off from through traffic, one couldn’t be too careful.
Brooklyn had the passenger door open, ready for me to deposit Pen in the passenger seat. Once I had her comfortable, I buckled her seatbelt.
