Page 13 of Off the Rim
When the news broke that I wouldn't be on the court for my first college basketball game, my phone blew up with notifications. The local news from my hometown has been reporting on it nonstop, trying to reach me for comments, but so far, I've put them off. As mortified as I was, I finally broke down and called my dad. After what felt like hours of listening to him tell me he told me so, and that I should have listened to the plan he’d laid out for me, he agreed to get his PR team working on a public statement that doesn't make me look like an asshole. This isn't something that can be swept under the rug, unlike getting mixed up with Kent's bullshit case against Marcus Vell. They’ll find a way to put a positive spin on it.
Once again, I'm back to thinking about that night. This is probably karma for that whole mess. Fucking Kent. I told him to fucking drop it, that he didn't have a case. But Kent is one of those people that doesn't like being shown up, under any circumstances. He just had to put Marcus in his place, show him who held the power in our little town.
I nearly had a panic attack when Pinecrest High's basketball coach showed up with security footage. I scrambled to get my hands on it before anyone else could see it, but the footage was shown on a big screen where my dad, Kent, and Kent’s dad all saw. Thankfully, there wasn't a camera directly on us, but it was enough to strongly imply something was happening before Kent and his idiot goons showed up. My father and his PR team were able to scrub my name entirely, and the case was dropped, considering it was clear that the fight was four on one. And sinceMarcus is openly gay, he could have grounds to come after us for a hate crime.
Marcus never said anything. He never outed me or fought back against Kent's continued public vendetta against him. I almost wished he had. I cut ties with Kent and didn't talk to anyone outside of basketball. Luckily, by that point, we'd all been playing together for so long that everything came easily. And since Marcus dropped off the leaderboards, I found myself on top without his name next to mine for the first time in as long as I could remember.
When I was named number one in the nation, my team threw a party for me. Kent looked me square in the eye and said, "You’re welcome." I nearly puked on the spot.
I've benefited from Kent's bullshit, and I hate myself for it.
Every day I thought about leaking the security footage, of coming out and telling the truth about what happened that day. I almost did it on day one, but my father and his team of lawyers charged in and took over. Days passed, then weeks. It wasn't as if I could go back and fix things. All I could do was move forward.
Except I'm not moving forward. I'm stuck in place, watching the game from the sidelines. And with so much idle time, I find myself thinking about Marcus and how he's faring. I couldn't find any information about where he ended up. Surely he didn't stop playing ball entirely?
Wherever he is, I hope he's happy. And I hope he isn't watching me right now, sitting here on the bench while the team that promised me a breakout season plays without me.
CHAPTER 10
ASHTON, AGE 19
"Ashton Mother Fucking James the THIRD."
I snort, even though I despise being called by my whole name. If I could change it entirely, I would. There's not even a version of my name that I can make my own, like my grandfather and father both have. I could reuse AJ, but it doesn't really fit. My middle name is a no-go, considering Wellington is even douchier than being a third in one of the most recognizable names in the country. But no matter how much I try to push being calledAsh, no one listens. It's one way I know none of these fuckers are my real friends. Because all of them refer to me by my full name, Ashton James, rather than just using my first or even my last name, like a lot of the athletes do with each other.
"That's me," I say flatly, taking another deep swig of booze.
"Bruh, are you drinking straight from the bottle?" Sebastian snatches the bottle of Macallan out of my hand, then replaces it with a crystal tumbler. "Ice?" When I shake my head no, confused about why the fuck it matters if I use a glass or not. There are no objections to me polishing off this entire bottle, as long as I show some decorum while I give myself alcohol poisoning.
Such is the way with Alpha Omega Psi. Cultivating a legacy of excellence and influence among the world's future leaders through the preservation and advancement of generational wealth, fostering lifelong bonds grounded in privilege, entitlement, and corruption.
Burp.I hate everyone.
"Ashton James, have you met Binky Vanderwind?"
"Binky?" I'm slurring and probably being rude, but I don't have it in me to care. The room is spinning, and it's too hot for this tie. Why do we have to wear suits after every game? Actually, strike that. Why the fuck is everyone else at this party dressed up? Can't we just have a normal fucking frat party with beer pong and strip poker?I'm awesome at strip poker.
"Excuse me?"
Did I say that out loud?
"Don't pay him too much mind. He's celebrating the team's big win tonight."
Another game won from the bench.Go team!
"I'm not sure I know how to play, but you can show me some time," the girl says, with a giggle that doesn't sound as innocent as she's trying to play off. Or maybe she's not. I don't know. She's cute, I guess. Petite and somehow fashionably thin and curvy at the same time. Her dark brunette hair has subtle highlights, bangs framing her perfectly symmetrical face. Her nose turns up slightly at the end, and her plush, glossed lips are stretched around perfectly straight, white teeth. My dad would love her.
"I need to get out of here."
"Oh, um, let me help you." Sebastian and Binky each grab an arm and haul me up off the bottom step of the stairs. I was originally making my way up, intending to swipe the bottle and disappear to my room, but I tripped and landed on my ass. Sebastian found me before I could escape.
I stand, and the room sways. Sebastian excuses himself for a second, and I lean on the wall with Binky tucked against my side.
What kind of name is Binky?
“I said Bianca.”
What?
