Twenty minutes later, I laughed when we pulled into the parking lot for a big warehouse. “It is kind of weird, this going on right here in the farmlands of Ohio.”
“Cheap space, low cost of living, and a good supply of actors,” Sarina said as if it were common knowledge.
We walked inside to a live set, and I was introduced in between takes to Frank, who sat in the director’s chair. I swallowed while taking in my surroundings. If I thought I didn’t know much before, I was way wrong. Sitting there that night, I realized I knew nothing. With my legs crossed and my hands demurely in my lap, I took in the scenes, some scandalous and others quite enticing.
I felt my pulse pick up a few times, and squinted to get a better view. A few times, I looked away, embarrassed for the actors in front of me, but I always ended up turning back to the set.
After a while, I decided it was time for me to head home and figure out how to use my vibrators. Sarina and I exchanged phone numbers and I took the bus home, my new toys tucked into my backpack.
Blane
Tuesday, Coach called us early to the field house for a team meeting before the night’s game. He made it clear we were to win, and win big.
“Listen to the radio guy, Steele. You can’t afford any distractions,” Coach said, directing his comment at me. And he was right; I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
We hit the hardwood and warmed up as a team. When the buzzer rang, we were shooed down the tunnel back toward the locker room to wait until the official introductions.
As I wound my way to the overhang, I saw her.
She might have said she wasn’t coming, but Cate was there in Section 107 leaning up against the wall, her eyes anywhere but on me. She was pretending to focus on our opponents from Indiana. I almost yelled up to her, but she wanted to remain anonymous. And I didn’t need the distraction.
I had a game to win—actually, a season to win. There was no denying, I also wanted to explore whatever this was with Cate, but she needed to be into it. I was fine with inexperience or not taking shit too quickly, but this whole not allowing herself to enjoy pleasure was bullshit. Not me at all. I was one hundred fucking percent behind getting it on and getting it on good. I wasn’t going to feel guilty for having wants or desires, and she shouldn’t either.
Fucking nuts. How could she be all pro-women, but be so repressed? It didn’t make sense. And what did we really have? One night of passion, a few funny conversations in a coffeehouse, and a shared disgust for Sonny?
“Y’all ready to win?” I shouted as I banged my fist into the locker, setting my thoughts aside.
This was what I had—a locker room full of sweaty guys willing to leave it all out there on the hardwood for me. My life was hanging on the precipice, and these guys fucking knew it. We were a family.
“Damn straight,” Ashton yelled back.
“Amen!”
“You know it, Steele!”
The rest of the team joined in, shouting obscenities and promises for destruction. Demetri and Mo slapped a high five, putting aside any personal shit before heading out to the hardwood. The locker room resounded with cheers, chants, and slaps until Coach Conley blew his whistle.
“Let’s go tonight! I want you dunking and putting on a show for these dudes. Scare ’em right up front. Give them your goddamn cockiness, not me, you hear me? You’re never a shoo-in for a win. You have to work for every damn point, men.”
“Yes, Coach,” chorused throughout the room.
Then we were on the move again, through the locker room and out the tunnel, ready to hear our names called. I felt good; loose and pumped. I’d like to say hearing my name and all the cheering that followed didn’t do much for me. But it did.
Midway through the first half, Coach gave me a break, benching me for some rest since we were up by twenty-five points. The beating we were putting on this cupcake team was insane. I’d gone hard for the first three minutes, putting up two dunks and serving up five assists. Then I’d banged a three from way downtown, and the bad guys missed on their offensive run.
Alex snagged the rebound and threw a heated pass to Ashton for another three. The dude was fouled, smacked on the arm as he lofted the ball into the air. The shit sank right into the net, but he pulled an and-one foul.
Of course, my man made his extra point from the line. From then on, it was easy. With sweat trickling down my back and over my arms, I passed with fury and dribbled with intensity. This was my house and the love of my life all wrapped up in one.
I had loans from the bank counting on me going pro. My car was sold to me on borrowed money. My mom wanted a new place, even though she wouldn’t say anything. My dad wanted a star.
There was a lot riding on this. It was a good thing I fucking loved being on the court.
Seated on the bench, I swigged from my Gatorade bottle and looked toward Section 107.
Gone. Cate was gone. Oh well, like I thought. We didn’t have much. Or did we?