Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at a court with any bright emotion. The Ravens had no time for joy. The game was all that mattered, the only place they had any real value, the stage upon which they would honor the master’s investment in them. How could any of them truly love a cage? Not even Kevin was foolish enough to dabble in honest delight; his hunger for Exy was a greedy, all-consuming thing that dragged him ever onward.
Derrick’s deafening “My wife!” jarred Jean out of his morose contemplation. A half-second later Derrick had him by the elbow and was dragging him out of the Trojans’ line. The lowest row of seats in the stadium were raised four feet off the ground, with a barred railing keeping the fans separated from the inner court. During the game security guards would be stationed at each section to ensure no one fell or jumped down in their excitement, but for now the arriving fans had the run of the place.
Three women were standing at the railing closest to the Trojans’ entrance, each wearing a cardinal red shirt emblazoned with a different letter from USC. The U was Cherise, easily recognizable now that Jean had seen her photograph. She leaned over the railing when Derrick reached for her, nearly falling out of her shirt as she did so. Derrick’s fervent “I love you,” was probably more for that near-miss than the smile she favored him with. He pressed a too-loud kiss to her knuckles before motioning to Jean. “Cherise, my buddy Jean Moreau! I’ve told him all about you.”
“Only good things, I hope,” she said.
“Please be the mother of my children,” Derrick said, holding both hands up toward her in supplication. “We would make such beautiful babies.”
“Charming as always,” she said dryly. “Hey, Derek.”
“Cherise,” Derek returned as he came up on Jean’s other side. “Hey, Tori, Denise.”
“Derek.” Tori leaned over the railing to smile down at him. “Looking good.”
“I could say the same for you, T.”
“You could say it,” she said, with an expectant tip of her head.
Derek’s smile was slow, but whatever he meant to say was interrupted by Bobby yelling down the inner court at them: “I’m telling Coach!” A half-second later she edited her threat to, “I’m telling Angie! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
“Oh God,” Derrick said, clutching at his heart. “Cherise, my love. Another day.”
Derek used the railing to haul himself up, and Tori caught his face in her hands for a quick kiss. A group of fans six rows up erupted in hoots and cheers, and Derek was grinning like a fool when he dropped back down to flat ground.
Cherise caught Jean’s eye as he started to step back and said, “Look after our boys out there, will you?”
“Our boys!” Derrick yelled before taking off at full speed. “Our! Boys!”
“One of these days you’ll figure out he’s not joking about you,” Derek warned Cherise. “Sort yourself out before you string him along much longer, would you? He’s my brother.”
“See you after,” was all Cherise said.
Derek frowned at her but motioned to Jean and set off. They didn’t try to match Derrick’s speed but kept a slow pace, making it easier for the rest of the lineup to catch up with them. Jean settled in alongside Jeremy again. Somewhere behind him the Trojans were treating Derek like a returned hero, yelling and clapping and carrying on in the most embarrassing way. Jean idly wondered if they would ever shut up. The arrival of the Bobcats to the Away side finally earned a bit of peace, except now the Trojans shouted cheery greetings at them on their way by.
Jeremy and Xavier broke away from the line to pay respects to White Ridge’s coaches and captains. Jean looked for Connors on his way by, but the Bobcats were still streaming out of the locker room. The Trojans made one last lap, collecting Jeremy and Xavier on their way by, and Jeremy took them to the locker room to change out. The teams were too big to share the court for warmups, but the Trojans would run drills first. It bought their visitors a little more time to shake out the stiffness of traveling.
Getting changed out was easy enough after nearly thirteen years dealing with so many layers. Jean was already wearing the gold shorts he needed for his Home uniform, so he sat on the bench to tug his shin guards into place. He yanked the straps tight, then kicked his legs out one at a time and rolled his ankles to test them. Satisfied they’d hold in place without cutting off circulation, he pulled his socks on overtop. His shoes he left off to one side for now in favor of peeling his shirt off.
He tugged on his chest armor, strapping down his shoulders first before snapping the chest straps into place. His warmup jersey was tossed into his locker in favor of the gold-on-red one sized for sitting atop gear. It took a few quick tugs to settle it right over his padding, and he locked his neck guard into place before reaching for his gloves. There were two pairs: long cotton ones that would button up above his elbows and keep his arm guards from sliding or pinching his arms, and the bulkier set with armored fingers that would go on last. Jean tucked the latter into his helmet for the walk back to inner court and got his shoes on and laced up.