Page 11 of Scoring the Player
“Yeah, that’s right, you met him. I forgot about that. His husband, Eli, couldn’t make that game. Remember the picture of the Frenchie I showed you? That’s their dog.”
“The gray one?”
“Yeah, Loki. I love that dog, but he’s a terror unless you give him treats. He has a weak stomach, so they buy him these crazy expensive small-batch treats with probiotics and a crap ton of healthy stuff. He goes wild for ’em. He begs by standing on his hind legs and spinning in circles. It’s the only trick he knows.”
I grinned. “Sounds like a character.”
“Hey, if you’re seeing anyone, you should bring them by for the next game night. Laila and I would love to meet them.”
“I’m single, but thanks, man.”
He nodded. “You ever need a wingman, I got you! I’m not saying I take all the credit, but Liam has me to thank for Eli. I’m the greatest wingman.”
Over a dozen pairs of eyes ping-ponged between us. Cillian had to have felt it too, but he didn’t seem to give a shit. It was so Cillian to have my back without saying he had my back. Ishouldn’t have doubted that he’d be someone I could trust to come out to.
Ezekiel, one of the guys taking jabs at Blue and Sid, hung back after most of the guys had cleared out.
“What’s up?” I turned to face him.
“Hey, man, my bad with the jokes. If I knew you were, you know, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Gay. The word is gay. Your dick won’t fall off if you say it. Whether you knew I was gay or not isn’t the point. That shit’s vile, man. It’s hate speech. You never know who is or isn’t gay around you. Every time you say shit like that, you’re spreading hate and potentially hurting other people.”
He rubbed his neck and winced.
“Anything else?”
He shook his head. “Just…my bad.”
“You know, it’s interesting how you insult in public but apologize in private. Next time, man up in front of everyone or save it.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and brushed past him.
I know so many dudes like him—constantly shitting on other people to assert their manhood. They’re so committed to proving and performing their masculinity that they can’t see how it’s reduced their humanity. And if that’s not fucked enough, they go and try to impose that crap on other people. To hell with that. I’ve spent too many years of my life feeling insecure about my manhood because of it. I have no interest in belittling and dominating other people to prove I’m strong, and I sure as hell won’t be subjected to it from other people.
The opposing team’s point guard gets jammed up by our small forward. He passes the ball to Dominic, their center, who drives three feet to lay it in. Dominic never sees me coming when I drop down from the wing, reach in, and block the shot. He attempts to retrieve it but ends up sprawled on his ass.
I gesture to the crowd that they aren’t loud enough. They heed the call, screaming their lungs out. I stumble back, pretending to be blasted off my feet.
After the next three possessions, I force a turnover when their shooting guard squares up for a three-pointer. I run up behind him and tip the ball out of his hand before it’s released.
Gimme that!
Our point guard, Onyx, takes possession and then sinks a three-pointer.
I end up playing a little over eighteen minutes before Coach benches me. She never keeps us in long during our first game back from an injury.
I’m tapped to join the post-game interview after I shower. Changing into matching pale blue corduroy pants and a long-sleeve, button-down shirt, I leave the top three buttons undone, partially revealing my chest tats.
“Salem, over here. Tom from CBS Sports.”
I nod.
“Firstly, welcome back. It’s official, Salem ‘The Silencer’ has returned!”
The room erupts into laughter, myself included. My defensive style has a way of silencing the opposing team’s crowd, hence the nickname.
“You’ve been called the soul of the team, one of the toughest defenders the franchise has ever seen, and you can hold your own offensively. After five long months, how did it feel to be back on the court?”
