Hoops Shorts: A HOOPS Novella Collection

We sat down and were brought beverages. Cash popped open a beer and pulled out his phone, looking down at it with an intensity I didn’t particularly love. You spend six years mostly in enclosed spaces with an ex-gambler and you recognized when he got that look on his face.

I leaned over Luna. “Did you bet on the fight?”

Cash’s head popped up from where he was leaned over his phone, a guilty expression on his face.

“Cash!” Luna cried. “You’re not supposed to gamble.”

He threw a hand in the air. “Everyone bets on the game. It’s not gambling.” He shook his head and avoided her gaze. “Not really, anyway.”

Whatever Luna said next was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as one of the fighters was introduced. Everyone around us jumped to their feet.

Luna got up and in Cash’s face. She was still obviously trying to talk to him, but I could see his attention was on the fighters. Eventually she gave up, looked frustrated, and turned back to the ring.

The second fighter was introduced, and the crowd went even crazier. Oh right, he was the one who was favored to win tonight. I’d only paid peripheral attention to all this shit.

I knew I was a big guy and people expected me to be a good fighter.

But I’d had enough of that from when I was a kid. Fighting asshole bullies who didn’t like the way me and my brothers dressed. Who called my littlest brother dumb and picked on him just because he was dyslexic and couldn’t read as quick as the other kids.

Once I got to a certain size though, they stopped picking on us. Well, actually, the reason they stopped picking on us was ’cause the whole neighborhood heard I sent Mark Hanson to the Urgent Care clinic with a shattered cheekbone. He’d laid hands on my second youngest brother.

No one messed with us after that.

But I hated that shit. My dad used to beat on Mom before he left. Good riddance to the bastard. I was never gonna be like that. It was the last time I used my fists.

So no, I wasn’t into this bloodletting shit. Fine if Bishop got off on it. Sometimes I thought that guy was barely keeping it on the level. He got this look… I didn’t fucking know, but damn… He had a little of the crazy behind the eyes sometimes.

I wasn’t sure if it was worse lately or not. But I’d been feeling this restlessness from him. He’d been picking at Mason more than ever. And now this thing with Luna. Or maybe that was the cause of his restlessness?

“And now, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer began, “Welcome to the T-Mobile Arena in lovely Las Vegas, Nevada!” Then he read off the names of a bunch more sponsors and judges while both boxers bounced on their feet in their opposing corners, still in their robes. Their trainers stood in front of them helping to hype them.

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Let’s get ready to—”

The crowd shouted back, “Rumble!” in a deafening roar.

Then he introduced each boxer and they threw off their robes. One was from Ireland, and Irish flags on sticks waved furiously all throughout the arena, along with lots of painted green faces.

Then Round One was beginning. Every time a hit landed, the crowd reacted. The too-familiar sounds of fists on flesh just made me cross my arms over my chest and sit back in my chair.

I’d agreed to come out with everyone ’cause I was trying to be a good sport. But now I was wishing I’d stayed back at the bus so I could catch up on some reading. I’d been a shit student when I was a kid but as an adult, with so much time on the bus, I found out I actually liked reading. Just not that crap like A Separate Peace or whatever the hell Animal Farm was supposed to be about.

I read action-mystery thrillers. Interesting shit about guys who traveled the world and actually did things. They were spies and detectives and military men. Guys I could respect.

Turned out maybe I wasn’t so dumb after all. Growing up, all my teachers had just seen a big guy who was usually sleepy from taking care of all my brothers and assumed I was stupid and not worth the effort.

The Irish guy landed a punch and blood spatter flew out towards us on the front row. I jerked back while Bishop howled and leaned in.

My stomach turned.

I didn’t want to know how much the seat I was sitting in cost. Especially ’cause I was done with this shit.

I leaned over to Luna and shouted to be heard over the crowd. “See you back at the bus. Not feeling so hot.”