Page 37 of Courtside

Rather than responding to Jordan, David turned to Chris Terrence. “Terrence, you’ve got to stay on your toes there in the middle. You’re letting the offense trick you with the pass fake, but you’ve got to stay steady in your position.”

The tall forward heaved a sigh, obviously frustrated, but muttered a reluctant “Yes, Coach,” before walking away.

At David’s whistle, they ran through it again. This time, it was Monty who got pulled too far up the wing and left a man wide open in the corner.

“Damnit!” David slammed his board against his thigh, turning away from the guys as he tried to rein in his frustration. There was no reason why they shouldn’t be able to execute this defense. He knew they were fast enough. He knew they were smart enough. But no matter how he drilled it, they just didn’t click.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the court. The guys all watched him, wary expressions on their faces. A few of the freshmen even looked afraid. They were drenched in sweat, faces red with exertion as those on the court struggled to catch their breath.

The silence stretched out, the team obviously waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t sure where to start.

What could he say?

It was Jenks, their other captain, who spoke up. He was on the black squad, playing against the starters. “Want us to run it again, Coach?”

David shook his head. “Finish up with free throws, and then let’s call it early.”

A few of the guys looked surprised, but they all split into small groups at each of the baskets. The gym got quiet as they settled into shooting free throws.

Sighing, David took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair.

“You alright there, Coach?”

He glanced over at Tim, who watched him with a small frown.

“Fine,” David responded.

He wasn’t fine, but there wasn’t time for him to take away from the work they were doing to figure out whatever he was going through. He’d get over it. The team needed him to be fine.

When Tim didn’t respond, David felt some of the tightness in his shoulders loosen.

Practice wrapped up quietly. They huddled, as was customary, but it was obvious that they were floundering, both as individuals and as a group. David said something about bringing their best tomorrow, but the words obviously fell flat as the guys slouched off to the locker room.

David retreated to his office. He planned on watching tape for a few hours before going home, but after ten minutes of watching the same play over and over again and seeing nothing new, he decided to call it.

He drove home through the darkness, the familiar strains ofStadium Arcadiumfilling his car. He rolled the windows down, needing the wind on his face to clear his head. He hummed along as he drove across one of the many bridges in Charleston.

It was a takeout kind of night. He ran through the local restaurants in his head, deciding that a big caesar salad with chicken was probably his best bet after all of the crap he’d been eating.

He was slowing down at a red light when he saw a silver sedan pulled over on the side of the road. Smoke billowed out from under the popped hood, and he could see a figure bent over the engine. David immediately clicked on his turn signal, and as soon as the light changed he pulled over behind the car.

Climbing out of his Bronco, David walked over to the vehicle. “Hey,” he called out, wanting to alert the driver to his presence before he snuck up on them in the dark. “You need some help?”

“Totally good!” A woman’s voice called out, immediately followed by a muttered curse and a thud that didn’t sound good at all.

“You sure?” David moved a bit closer, standing beside the driver’s door. The car was a Corolla that had definitely seen better days.

“Yeah, totally good over here. I’ve got it handled, but thanks!” There was another thud and a snapping noise. “Fucking fuck!”

David rounded the car. “Ma’am, please let me —”

Sage Fogerty stared at him, her blonde hair wild around her face. There was a grease smudge streaking from the tip of her nose across her cheek, and David had to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself from reaching out to wipe it off of her skin.

She blinked, barely illuminated by the headlights. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

CHAPTER11

OF COURSE IT WAS

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