Page 86 of Off the Rim
He nods. "But we have a board and investors that are going to be much harder to convince."
I was ready for this. "How many of those investors are making money on underhanded deals with politicians and insider trading?" He doesn't need to answer for me to know that it's all of them. Every. Last. One.
"So you're going to blackmail your way into a hostile takeover of my company, then?"
"If I have to, yes. I'd prefer to call it an ethical overhaul. You can alert your board that they have the option to step down willingly, but their financial portfolios are already being reviewed by the IRS and FBI." I stand and straighten my button-down shirt and dark slacks. "You're with me or against me, Dad. But it'd be really nice to have some support while I'm in grad school."
"Is this Marcus Vell's influence?"
It's hard to hide the way my spine stiffens defensively at the mention of his name.
"Probably. I've learned a lot about the kind of person I want to be from him and his family."
"And if you lose everything your grandparents built?"
"We both know AJames Enterprises is too big to truly fail. But let me ask you this: when you have more money than you could spend across several lifetimes, what's the point? Our whole country is suffering because of decisions made by people like us, who have no concept of what it means to live in the real world. Because of greed. If we're not part of the solution, we're part of the problem."
With that, I give my dad a polite nod and excuse myself, leaving him there with nothing but a folder of thinly veiled threats.
CHAPTER 39
MARCUS
Coach Burke stands in front of the team, all huddled around in the locker room. We circle him, every player with their arms over the shoulders of the guy next to him.
One player is noticeably absent, having been ejected from the team by Coach Burke himself before the championship tournament began. Anderson Hearst was caught selling locker room pictures to the press, specifically to a well-known news organization that is known to publish propaganda and misinformation. Chase Astorfeld was the one that turned him in after the team was inundated with a lot of anti-gay slander. He followed in Ashton's footsteps and left the fraternity after that and was one of the first of our teammates to make a public statement supporting us as players rather than focusing on the media circus surrounding our relationship. Almost all the guys followed suit, showing up to our first game against Louisville wearing Marcus' trademark rainbow sweatbands on their wrists.
"Alright, listen up, fellas. This is it. You made it. Despite all the odds and hiccups this season, you made it to the Final Four. Look around at your teammates. We came in as underdogs, but we fought for every inch, earned every win, and we made ithere together. Win or lose, we walk off that court as champions, because we've already proven what we're made of. Tonight, you go out there and you give everything you've got. For some of you, this might be the last game you ever play. For others, this is just another step in your journey. There are a lot of NBA scouts sitting court side, but I don't want you to worry about them. Forget everything but playing the best damn game of your lives.”
He looks each of us in the eye. “Play for each other. Play for your school. Play for every ounce of sweat you've left on the court, every sacrifice you've made. Are you ready?!"
"Yes, sir!"
"I said, are you ready!?"
"YES, SIR!"
"Let's get out there and show them what we're made of! All in and Cougars on three!"
"COUGARS!"
An energy has followed us from the beginning of March Madness, a drive that has pushed us through each and every win to get us to where we are today. And as we run out on to the court, I can feel the roar of the crowd in my bones. The screaming, clapping, and stomping of the fans, the squeak of sneakers on polished wood. Every sound, smell, and touch of my teammates thumping me on the back as we wish each other a good game. I'm glad that, no matter what happens tonight, this won't be the end of it. It's only the beginning.
First Quarter
We're down by six, but I don't let myself focus on the clock. I keep my head in the game, keep moving, keep playing the game the way we've been playing all season. There are three other guys on the court with us, but whenever I'm playing with Ash, it feels like we're the only ones. I make eye contact with him across the court, and I flash back to a memory of the first time I noticed him. He was looking at me much the same way he is now. Like I meant something to him, even though we didn't know each other at all. Maybe something inside us knew this is where we'd end up.
Spencer Nolan blocks a shot on goal, and Ashton picks up the rebound. Just from the way he's holding the ball, I know how he'll play. Purdue's defense is tight, but Ashton will find a way to break through it. He always does.
He fakes a pass to Wyatt Langton, crosses to his left, then sends the ball flying in my direction. I take the breakaway, dodge two defending guards, and make the layup. Ashton winks, and I shake my head. We had an entire conversation last night about letting the rest of the team play, too, but he keeps setting up plays for me to score.
Once the ball is back in play, I fight to get possession. I've always been better on offense than defense, and being a little shorter than the average baller gives me an advantage. I'm able to swoop under Purdue's centers' arm and swipe the ball, rocketing it over to Wyatt. He passes to Spencer, who passes it to Ashton. I shake my head when he immediately looks to me, but I've also gotdefense bearing down on me, knowing Ashton is likely to pass me the ball. He shoots from the three, and Dustin Harris goes in with the assist, slamming the ball through the net.
Second Quarter
The arena erupts in cheers as my long shot arcs through the air and sinks in the basket. Ashton bites his lip, looking at me with a cocky smile that makes my chest tighten and my ears heat.
"Stop it, " I mouth, rolling my eyes.
