Page 241 of The Locker Room
brown features not nearly as slack nor as sweaty as Burkins"s.
“Don"t talk like that,” he hissed at Burkins. “Man, Coach gets wind
of that… now shut it.”
Burkins shrugged. “You know it,” he slurred. “I know it. Doesn"t
make no difference, my brother.” Xander was the recipient of avery
drunk hug, and he had to smile a little. He was pretty sure Burkins had
noidea what he was talking about.
But then Aames opened his mouth and proved that they both did.
“Man, Burkins, you are the dumbest motherfucker on the face of
the fucking planet. Donottalk about that in front of the rest of the world.
That wasourconversation, and we both agreed we didn"t give a fuck,
now leave Xander alone so he can politely finish his beer and go off and
see Edwards like he"s dying to do, okay?”
Xander looked up, suddenly alert. “You don"t give a fuck about
what?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Aames glared at his drunken teammate, swallowed hard, and said,
just as quietly. “Look, man. It"s okay, okay? You guys… we get it. We
get it. He"s not your buddy, he"s not your brother, he"s more than that.
Look, Xander—we didn"t have to watch very hard to watch you breaking
your heart over the guy.”
Xander swallowed and raised his eyebrows. “And?”
Aames shrugged. “Man, you are taking us through the playoffs like
a parent takes their kid through the zoo. I don"t care what you got to do
orwhoyou got to do on your off-hours, but you keep doing that, right?
I"m not going to worry about it.”
Aames held up his beer bottle in the time-honored gesture of
fellowship, and Xander grinned appreciatively. “Then here"s to no
worries,” he said for Aames"s ears only, and together, they clinked their
bottles in understanding.
And that was Xander"s cue. He texted his driver, and since he was
