Page 2 of His Starr Player

“One of who?” I asked with a frown.

“One of those stuck-up, weird bitches. You think you too good to fuck with a nigga?” he asked.

“First, you need to learn how to talk to women. You might be used to these starstruck bitches, but that ain’t me. Second, I was feeling you until you talked yourself out of some pussy. You come off way too aggressive. You’re an attractive man. Your looks can get you the conversation, but your mouth ruins all chances with a woman like me.”

“Bitch, you think because your daddy is a legend that you’re too good to fuck with me?” Jay scoffed.

I slid my tongue across my perfect set of white teeth. I folded my hands together. “You sound jealous? I never disrespected you, but I can get real disrespectful.”

“Stupid bit?—”

“Aye, my nigga. You got one more time to call her out her name before I knock them gold teeth out of your mouth.”

The sound ofhisvoice sent a shiver down my spine and a signal straight to the bead between my other set of lips. I craned my neck to see Marcus Hastings standing in all his six feet andfive inches in height. He was the shade of coffee with the perfect amount of creamer. The smooth complexion made my mouth water. He was the star of many of my wet dreams, but as my teammate’s brother, I always stayed far away from him.

Tonight, though, was new. He stood right beside me with his fists balled. His chiseled jaw, low-cut beard, and freckled face were deliciously attractive under the hue of the club lights. The gray shirt he wore hugged his muscles perfectly.

“Nigga, what the fuck you say?” Jay asked with a chuckle.

“You heard me. You might be Cin’s cousin, but you acting like a nigga who never been around women with class. If she said she not feeling you, take your L and move on to the next one. Calling her out her name ain’t gon’ do shit but have you swallowin’ your teeth.” Marcus cracked his knuckles.

“Nigga, fuck you. Them swole ass arms ain’t bulletproof.” Jay lifted her shirt to show off the Glock tucked firmly in the waistband of his pants.

Chatter had stopped around us as everybody tuned into the debacle. Cinnamon walked over to defuse the situation.

“Hey! It’s too many bad bitches in this section for the two of you to ruin the night. Jay, you know you on your second strike. Put that shit away and go back to your section. I can pull up on your section in a minute.”

Jay looked at the three of us and nodded. “Don’t let me catch you in these streets, nigga.” Jay checked Marcus before he walked off toward the section he was in before he joined us.

“Sorry about that, Starr. You know how men get when they are off that liquor and horny. Thank you for standing up for Ava, Marcus. I appreciate you for being patient.”

“No worries.”

Cinnamon gave me a hug before she grabbed the bottle and poured another shot into Marnajah’s mouth. Marnajah Hastings was my best friend and right hand in the basketball world. Wewere rivals in college but were both drafted in the same year. I was the fifth overall pick in the draft, and she was sixteen. After the draft, several GMs made trades and other deals, which was how we ended up on the same roster. We found out we had a lot in common and clicked instantly. She was her brother’s twin, even though he was two years older than her—us.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked me. He’d placed his hand on my arm and leaned close so I could hear him over the club noise.

“Yes. Thank you for stepping in. I didn’t want to show him what side of the Cove I’m from.”

He showed all his teeth with a laugh deep in his gut. “You from the burbs. Don’t act like you’re from the trenches.”

“Boy, bye! I might have gone to school in the burbs, but while my parents were traveling, I was in the trenches.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.”

“And here I was thinking I knew everything about Axel Starr and his family.”

I chuckled at the mention of my father. Axel Starr was my father. He was a fifteen-time all-star player. He held several all-time records, including the most valuable player awards in a career. He was a power forward who could play any position. He was a natural playmaker, and his dunks were legendary. As the daughter of a legend, the media plastered my life and career all over the blogs all the time.

“I’m full of surprises, actually.” I licked my lips.

“I bet you are.”

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” A few of the girls chanted as a bottle girl entered our section with a bottle of Don Julio 1942. We all got our glasses refilled and tossed the shots back in unison. Marcus groaned as he wiped the corners of his mouth.

“Not a drinker?” I asked.

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