Page 1 of The Locker Room

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1

Prologue

Playing the Moment

Arco Arena, Sacramento, California. Home of the Kings.

XANDER KARCEK pounded down the glossy wood of the court, thigh

muscles straining, huge biceps pumping, and sweat dripping into his eyes

from his black bangs. The ball sang against the boards in front of him

and popped back into the palm of his wide-fingered hand as he dribbled

furiously, strides ahead of the enemy, in perfect position to score.

He didn"t.

Instead, he popped the ball behind him with the next dribble, and

Christian Edwards caught it one-handed and continued the dribble down

the center of the court. He didn"t have to look behind him to know Chris

was right on his heels—he never had to look behind him. Chris would be

there. Chris didn"t know how to fail. And this way, when the opposition

came up behind Xander, arms spread, legs wide, ready to block the shot,

Xander was there with surprisingly wide shoulders for a guy who stood

six feet, nine inches tall in his size eighteen bare feet.

And Chris, the center, leapt into the air, twisted his body, and made

the shot with a chest-high dunk, and the fifteen thousand fierce voices,

echoing around their bodies until the sound was so thick you could cut it

with the slice of a sweating hand, exploded into shrieks of unholy,

furious joy, singing Chris"s praises.

Just the way it should be. The whole world should sing Chris"s

praises.

Xander and Chris passed each other as Chris recovered his running

stride from the dunk, and as they got into position to intercept the other

team, they faced the opposite direction. That"s when their arms swung

down from the elbows in a smooth low five, and they snarled at each

other in triumph.

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