Page 11 of Hard to Fake

I’m a professional basketball player. Been wanting to be one since I was old enough to score my first basket.

It’s a dream job.

It’s also a roller coaster. I live for the highs, try not to let the lows drag me down, because the highs are really fucking high.

Winning championships. Making millions. Fans everywhere I go.

The lows?

I promised myself I wouldn’t think about those anymore.

I check my phone for a response to the message I sent first thing this morning.

Miles: Haven’t talked in a couple days. All good?

Miles: Gonna stop by after practice if I don’t hear back.

Concern edges into my gut.

"What's the little dude doing here?" Rookie is lacing up his sneakers when I get to the court and set down my gear bag, open at the top with my dog inside.

“Been in a funk for the past week. Figured he'd be better here where I can keep an eye on him than at home.He'll be quiet," I tell our coach, who narrows his eyes before nodding toward the banner hanging from the rafters.

Denver Kodiaks.

World Champions.

We got the banner for the first game of this season, and it’s like a god watching over us. The kind that looks out for us but has expectations too.

“Put that shit away,” Clay says to our point guard Jay, who’s looking at his phone.

“What?” I ask.

“This Hoops News article,” Jay grumbles. “Saying we were lucky last year, not good.”

As our leader, Jay’s pissed. It’s my job to take the edge off.

I clap a hand on his shoulder. “No one wins a world championship on luck, but having a little doesn’t hurt.”

"You know the hardest thing in this league?” Coach asks after calling the team to order. “Not winning a championship, winning a second one."

“Winning the first one wasn’t the easiest either,” Rookie says under his breath.

“Damn straight, Rookie,” one of our bench guys says.

“You can’t keep calling me that.”

“Sure we can. Technically, you’re still on your rookie contract, right? Just second-year,” Darius, the backup point guard we picked up in the off-season, points out.

Rookie frowns. “Stay out of it, new guy. Want me to call you ‘new guy’ all year?”

“If you want?—"

Jay clears his throat, ignoring the others. "The first three games of the season showed us we’re stronger than ever.”

"Strong?” Heads turn back to Coach. “We stole the win from LA, and we got out of Boston thanks to a few calls that went our way."

Tension rolls through the room.

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