Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

I sink into the ice tub I keep at the Waves arena. Even though it was only an exhibition game, I gave it my all.

There are definitely times when we have to ease up and play conservatively. Tonight wasn’t one of those. Cliff, my one-time friend and teammate, bounced around the NBA like a rubber ball kicked all over the playground after I left Houston. This is probably his last year, and despite winning one ring with us, he hasn’t prepared for retirement as well as I have. He hasn’t had the career I had or the success. He doesn’t have the money.

But he had my wife right under my nose for weeks, and we played his team tonight. No way I was taking an L from that motherfucker. It’s not even about Bridget. It hasn’t been for a long time.

The first time I faced Cliff after everything came out, people thought I might fight him on court, or erupt in violence. I did the opposite. I froze him out. I froze them all out, encasing myself and my game in a wall of ice. Many in my position would have taken the fine for not being available to the press that night. Not me. Every time a reporter asked a question about Cliff, about Bridget, their affair, I just stared at them in wintry silence until they sat down and the next question came.

Now reporters know better than to ask questions about my personal life. They haven’t for the last two years. Depending on how much of our dirty laundry Bridget decides to air on her reality show, that could change.

The door opens, and I glance over my shoulder to see our president of basketball operations, MacKenzie Decker, stroll in. He recently turned forty. An injury forced him into retirement a few years ago, earlier than he would have liked, but I doubt he misses those last seasons he could have had. He’ll be first ballot Hall of Fame, and after just a few years out of the league, he’s already a front office exec poised for partial ownership of the Waves. Not bad.

“’Sup, Deck?” I ask, sinking deeper into the icy water.

“I was coming to ask you that,” he says, taking a seat near the tub. His year-round California tan, bourbon-colored eyes, and thick dirty-blond hair make him a treat for the ladies. He’s devoted to only one woman, though, his girlfriend, Avery Hughes, a sports anchor based in New York.

“How’s your girl?” I lean over to adjust the setting on the ice tub.

“Still mine,” he answers with a swashbuckler’s grin.

“You gonna make an honest woman of her soon?”

“Oh, she’s already honest,” Deck returns. “But if you mean am I going to marry her . . .” He leaves the words hanging in the air, making me wonder as much as the media has about their relationship. Deck and Avery have been pretty private about it until recently.

“Then between you and me,” he says, the humor fading from his eyes and something more sober taking its place, “very soon. I can’t keep doing this. I need her with me.”

Avery is one of the most popular anchors on SportsCo, a large sports channel, second only to ESPN.

“Her contract is up for renegotiation this year,” Deck confides, leaning back in the chair. “She’s requesting the show record in LA instead of New York.”

“Bruh, that would be fantastic.”

“Yeah. This long-distance shit gets old quick.”

You telling me. I’ve only been doing it a few weeks, and I’m sick of it.

“How was it playing Cliff tonight?” he asks, skipping the bullshit and getting right to the heart of the matter. It’s one of my favorite things about Decker.

“Another day at the office.” I grin and tilt my head. “But it felt good shutting his shit down. We squashed ‘em.”

“That we did,” Decker agrees, chuckling darkly. “I’m glad it’s behind you.”

He hesitates, flicking a searching glance at me. “But I know you’re still dealing with the repercussions. What with Bridget’s show starting soon and Simone living on the East Coast now. You know I’ve navigated this. My ex was a real piece of work when we divorced. She up and moved on me, too.”

“Out here, right?”

“Yeah, out to LA when I was living and working in Connecticut.” He sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “Man, I was furious with her. I mostly didn’t want our daughter to see us fighting and to be dragged all over the place.”

“You hit the nail on the head with that one,” I mutter, passing a hand through the frigid water, hoping it might cool my rising temper as I think about all the tricks Bridget has pulled that ultimately hurt our daughter more than they hurt me.

“I know you guys were doing counseling and you lived there this summer,” he says. “That’s good. Keep putting your kid first, man. Even when Bridget takes the low road, which we’ve all seen is her default, take the high. Show your daughter over and over and in every way you can that she’s your priority. They’re in such a weird space at this age.”

“Tell me about it. Fourteen is hell.”

“Everything you’re doing now, even though it seems hard and maybe even like it’s not working, it’ll pay off later when your relationship with Simone remains intact.”

“That’s exactly what I needed to be reminded of. Thanks, Deck.”

He stands and daps me up, chuckling and pointing to the water. “You and the ice tubs. It’s a wonder your dick doesn’t freeze off.”