Page 147 of On Merit Alone
“Ira!” his mom exclaimed.
Ira grinned a devilish, boyish smile that had me hiding my own smile as I turned in the direction of the new voices. In the entrance of the kitchen stood two more tall figures. One had that same Ira and company face, though he was much darker than the rest of them, his skin taking on a deep brown that matched my own. And another was clearly not of this family. His light brown skin, round face, waved-out hair, and totally unrelated features being a dead giveaway that this must be the brother-in-law.
He was the first to acknowledge me. And by acknowledging I mean stop where he stood and blink as he looked me over, saying, “No fucking way.”
This had the brother dipping his head around the brother-in-law's shoulder to get a better view. It took him a couple extra seconds to place me, but I could tell when he did, his head cocked back in distant surprise. Then he nodded. “Merit Jones. No shit.”
Lisa moved behind me, placing her hands on my elbows as she scooted by to start grabbing grocery bags out of the joining party’s hands. “Honey, I wish I could say there was less cursing in this house, but I never could get them in line. Please excuse my family’s potty mouths.”
Ignoring her, Ira gestured to the newcomers. “Mer, this is my brother-in-law, Neil. He’s apparently a fan.”
“Buthemarried Iris King,” I whispered, and Ira rolled his eyes.
“—And this is my older brother Isaac. He thinks your career is done after this season.”
“Ira!” Everyone chimed in this time, appalled and shocked at his words. In my mind, I could envision all the ways this troublemaker learned to stir up controversy right here in this kitchen with these very people.
Ira just shrugged, his mouth splitting with amusement. “What! He said it, not me.”
“Yeah, he said it to you. Not to her!”
“Ah, anything you guys have to say she’s heard a thousand times over. She doesn’t care, yeah Six?”
I lifted a shoulder but found my eyes drifting to his brother. I remembered when Ira told me about why he started playing basketball, and I thought of something.
“I am so sorry about my brother.” Stepping forward, Isaac extended a hand. I shook it politely but continued to eye him. He fidgeted under my scrutiny. “We apparently never taught him when to shut up.”
I shook my head. “He’s right, I don’t mind. Everyone has their opinions. I know my own deal.”
“Right,” he eyed Ira warily over my head as if he didn't believe me.
“Do you still play?” I couldn’t help asking after a beat.
“Um, yeah,” he said.
I nodded. “We should play sometime then. Maybe I can change your mind.”
Ira, the absolute little shit, thought it was a great idea that his brother and I play. One on one. Right there on the court in their backyard—because, of course there was a court in the backyard.
I tried to refuse twice, but it was half-hearted. I would never actually turn down a game and now that the introductions were done and his parents were off cooking, I needed something to do that wasn’t clinging onto Ira every chance I got. So when he all but decreed that there was to be a game in thirty minutes, King against Jones, I didn’t argue.
Now, as I watched Isaac King, “arguably the worst King at basketball” Iris had told me, wipe his hands on the basketball shorts he dug out of his childhood room, I felt a twinge of guilt climb up my gut.
Leaning a shoulder over to Ira beside me, I said, “How does he take it?”
“Take what?”
“Losing.”
He grinned. “He’s a great sport. Probably ‘cause he’s so used to it.”
I smothered my own smile. He was turning me into a little shit just like him. “Was this a mean idea?”
“Nah,” he said, leaning his shoulder down to meet mine. “You’re only playing to twenty-one and I’ve been wanting to make him eat that comment since he said it. But this is way better thanmekicking his ass.”
I felt my gut turn as I wondered how long ago the so-called comment had been made, and if Ira actually felt so strongly about it. Aboutme.
Turning my gaze up to him, I caught him just as he was mouthing the words‘eat shit’to his brother from across the court, mischief written in his eyes. Feeling my stare, he looked down at me and smiled. Then he leaned down and gave me a peck. So simple yet so sweet as he said, “Do me proud, sweetheart.”
