Page 47 of Kove and Xiah
Meyer stopped in front of me and extended a closed fist which I met with mine. “Your cousin just took a call from a client so you have a minute. I wanted to holler at you about something.”
“What’s up?”
“Rowe told me you weren’t feeling your one on one today.” My expression grew tight because why the fuck was this muthafucker talking about me? Meyer grinned and locked his arms over his chest.
“You can relax. It’s not what you think. I had a session with Logan and I caught him in the hall. I asked how things went because I saw you on the schedule. Rowe said things went good, was actually singing your praises and shit, but also wanted me to get with you to let you know to trust the process.”
“I don’t need that. I’m a Royal, balling pays the bills. Whatever I need to do is done.”
“I respect that but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept that you had someone basically telling you that you didn’t know shit.”
There was amusement in his tone which had me nodding to agree. “Yeah I almost checked that nigga’s chin.”
“I wish I could say almost but that’s not how shit played out for me.”
“What you mean?”
“My first practice with Rowe was about the same as yours. A lot of him telling me all the shit I was doing wrong. I didn’t show up for the next one on one and Coach got on my ass. Either train or I would be benched for my first season and fined out the ass. I showed up and Rowe was on the same shit. He got in my face talking cash shit about how my ego was going to ruin me and I fucking spazzed. I hit him so damn hard I broke a finger and fractured his jaw.”
“Real shit?” I questioned, highly fucking amused because I was pretty close to doing the same thing when he grabbed my arm.
“Real shit.” Meyer nodded.
“What he do?”
“Called the trainer to tape my fingers, made me run for two hours straight, then still made me do my one on one.”
“Damn.” I chuckled.
“Yeah, long story short, I respect Rowe. He knows his shit. I wouldn’t be half the player I am today if it wasn’t for him. Check your ego and let him teach you some shit. You’re good. You can be better.”
I was sick of hearing that shit but I couldn’t deny the truth. Tyriq had a plan with basketball. He did travel teams and camps because his end game had always been to join the league. If I made it that far, I was cool, but I also didn’t have a plan for how I was going to make that happen.
“I’m not arrogant enough to believe I don’t have some shit to learn. What I’m not fucking with is being disrespected. I’m cool with Rowe. We’re gonna figure our shit out.”
He nodded. “Good to know because I’m looking forward to having you out there with me. Your shot is fucking dangerous and we need that. I had a lot of personal shit going on last season and I failed the team. Losing was hard because we were the best team in the league. That trophy should have been ours. A lot ofthat was on me. I can’t carry all of it but I know I allowed my personal shit to affect how I showed up on the court. We’re not gonna have a repeat of last year. I refuse to let it happen, so if you can’t pull your weight, then you won’t be on the court. And before you let your ego make you believe that my vote doesn’t count, try me. I owe my team a championship and I’m gonna deliver. You need to decide whether you’re earning a ring from the court or from the bench. Choice is yours.”
He extended a closed fist to me and I met it with mine for a second time. He smiled and nodded. “Aight, we’re in this shit then.”
“Yeah, we’re in it.”
“I’ll see you at practice.” He tossed a chin and the receptionist spoke up, saying I could go back. When I entered Osei’s office, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk and I took a seat.
“What’s good, family?”
Osei Vaughn was the son of our father’s brother. They lived in D-Ville until Osei was like eight then moved to Miami. We didn’t see them much after that because they rarely ever came home. He was blood but we had never been close because of the distance. When Sovoya presented him as an option for my financial advisor, I decided to run with it. He played in the NBA, was careless with his money and ended up living in his car. Years later he turned that shit into something good and was now the most sought after financial advisor for athletes. This was personal to him and not just a money grab. I fucked with that.
“Ain’t shit. Just trying to wrap my mind around all these moving pieces.”
“Been there so I get it. Let me take some of that weight off your shoulders.” He lifted a tablet from his desk and pushed it in my direction. When I had it in hand, the screen was already showing images of graphs and charts.
“Swipe through the first three.”
I did and scanned the numbers. It was my investment portfolio.
“This real?” I glanced at him and he smiled arrogantly, nodding.
“Very fucking real.”
