Page 156 of The Locker Room

---

Xander shrugged. “I practiced,” he said quietly, some of his

defenses leaking away. “Chris practiced with me. It was all I had.”

Leo sighed—he knew some of Xander"s past. Not all of it—enough

to help give Xander some good sound bite answers if the press cornered

him, but not all. No one knew about that shameful little apartment, or the

halfway house that followed it. No one knew he"d run away. No one

knew the last time he"d seen his mother—maybe not even Chris. No—he

134 Amy Lane

was billed as a foster-home success story, and about half the papers

erroneously put Chris as his foster-brother. Leo let them think that. It

was one of the things that had made them signing on the same team so

damned easy.

“Man, you just don"t get it, do you? Look at Chris out there—he"s

playing his heart out. How"re his numbers?”

Xander looked, and Leo was right. Chris was sweating, fierce, and

concentrated completely on his job. It was just like calculus, which Chris

had hated. He hated it, but damned if he was going to do a crap job on

something he"d been told was his duty to perform.

“He"s usually better than that,” Xander mumbled. “I think it"s

because he"s sick.”

Leo waved his hands in irritation—he did that sometimes. “What is

this „sick" bullshit, Xander? He looks fine to me!”

“Well, yeah, if he was sitting next to you. But on the court he"s

usually….” Xander waved his big hands around, searching for equally

big words for the shiny nimbus that seemed to follow Chris around,

telling Xander when to pass and when to shoot.

“Golden,” he said after an uncomfortable moment. “He"s usually

golden when we"re on the court together. You know. Darker tan.”

Leo"s eyes bugged out, and Xander subsided, watching the game

with the same fierce concentration that Chris seemed to be showing

---