Page 7 of A Shot at Love
Instead, because I’m just Annie, I find Jadea again at the top of the key. She dribbles for a moment, creating space until she feels confident enough to cut to the basket. She Euro steps right into the lane, shoving through three defenders, and kisses it off the glass. Wewin the game with 0.4 seconds left. I didn’t even contribute an assist on the play.
My team cheers and cheers, thumping Jadea on the back. This win cements us as the top team in the East. Instead of the usual rush, I feel strangely hollow. Is Jack Smith invading even these moments? My love of the game?
I push it down, even as everything in me is screaming yes.
Yes, he is.
*
Back at Arch Arena the next day, I try to create a calming practice environment. I work on the mechanics of my free throws, which are the easiest baskets to make. I talk with Coach Zak about one of our new plays. I do some extra stretches with our trainers. There have been no updates regarding Jack, my draft, or the rest of it. No more confusing tweets from Daniel. It’s possible that the media is going to let this be the “personal, family issue” that Jack’s publicist says it is. An ironic label considering I refuse to even call the man my father. But if it stops the barrage of doubts and head-spinning rumors, I’ll take it.
However, this calming reprieve is ruined by my apprehension about Jadea. She’s been avoiding me at practice. We’re still high-fiving and passing to each other but not talking. I would be worried about her, but she looks almost excited. As though she’s trying to hold on to a tantalizing secret.
Practice wraps up after a few hours. The assistants and practice players begin breaking down the court,gathering towels, water bottles, and balls. We all start to disperse, ready to gather our things and head to the garage. We have a game in three days, but my afternoon is clear, and I intend to lie on my couch and eat my weight in Twizzlers.
Before we can truly go our separate ways, Jadea calls us to attention. “Arrows.” She beckons us back to center court. She has her phone pressed to her ear, listening intently. Whatever she hears makes her happy because she grins widely, twirling one of her red braids around her finger. We all exchange the usual worried glances and head to her side. She’s just hanging up the phone when I reach her.
“Who was that?” I ask, arching a brow. “Secret paramour?”
She rolls her eyes. “Like I could keep any paramour a secret.”
Oh, sweet irony. I put my hands up in surrender. “Alright, sorry. What’s going on?”
Even Coach Rembert and Assistant Coach Zak come closer, sucked into the sparkle and pizzazz of the Jadea show. She spreads her hands, a pastor ready to give a sermon. “We all agree this stuff with Annie is BS, right?”
I shift awkwardly. “I’m not sureBSis quite the right term, Jadea. Jack Smithismy biological father.”
She waves her hand dismissively, not distracted from her goal. “While that might be true, you had no idea. He had no hand in raising you or making you into the fantastic player you are. If he’s been doing things behind the scenes that are underhanded, that also hasnothing to do with you. You never asked him to do anything.”
Lynn and Taherah are nodding in agreement, but I’m unsure. If someone does something morally wrong, and you unknowingly benefit from it, does the lack of knowledge even matter? The ethical dilemma makes my head spin. Jadea plows forward. “And, Annie the worrier, we don’t know if Jack evendidanything. It could all be a coincidence you were drafted to his team. Everything on Twitter is rumors.”
More nods from my teammates. I allow myself to be dragged into Jadea’s soapbox fairytale, like I always do. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Our best play isnotto lie low.” She claps her hands for emphasis. I snap to attention, immediately wondering what scheme she’s pulling behind Jermaine’s back. “We need to create positive press for the WNBA and for this team.” She falls back on her heels, her skin practically buzzing with excitement. “So, I called Daniel Chan.”
Everything erupts into a cacophony of noise. I’m just blinking, unsure if I’ve heard Jadea right.
“Daniel Chan? As inOur World Through Sportswith Daniel Chan?” My voice sounds wrong, too high-pitched. As inmyDaniel Chan? Light of my life? Ghost of my dreams? An ex I haven’t seen in nearly five years?
An ex my best friend knows nothing about.
My bickering teammates turn my way. Olabisi’s eyes light up at my crazed expression. “Isn’t he, like, your celebrity crush, Annie?”
A flush creeps up my neck, not helping my case. “No!” I protest feebly. Over the years, they might have noticed my interest in his show and my light internet stalking. When they assumed he was my celebrity crush, I didn’t correct them with the more complicated story. “No, I just respect his show. And how he tries to better our industry. That’s all.” There, I think, that’s a very diplomatic response. Not at all suspicious.
It’s as if I didn’t open my mouth in the first place. “That is brilliant, Jadea!” Taherah claps her hands in excitement. “Is he going to profile the team?”
“Yes, he and his production team will be at practice tomorrow. They’ll follow us around and interview us. Being on his show is the perfect opportunity to get some good press. I heard the new women’s softball league had a surge in ticket sales after he profiled them a few months ago. He’ll tellourstory, and he won’t focus on stupid Jack Smith and the rest of his boys’ club.” Jadea folds her arms smugly. I’m about to launch into a panicked tirade about how ridiculous this is when Coach Rembert cuts through with her own perspective.
“Jadea Jones, are you telling me that you invited a camera crew to our practices without my approval?” She sounds dangerous, and even Jadea has the good grace to look chagrined. I almost start cheering. Maybe Coach can save me from this awkward mess.
“Sorry, Coach, but I had to look out for Annie. And our team. This could boost our reputation. Put our names out there in a positive way!” She fixes Coach with a pleading look.
There is a brief standoff where Jadea’s enthusiasm is matched with Coach’s severity. Eventually, Coach relents. “Fine.” She spins away, calling over her shoulder, “But they will followmyrules.”
The team officially begins to disperse, almost all of them talking excitedly about Daniel Chan and the show. Jadea stays with me and pantomimes wiping sweat off her brow. “Whew. I wasn’t sure Coach would go for it. Thank God she has a soft spot for you.”
I do a double-take. “Wait, really?” I had been joking about that yesterday; it’s Jadea and Coach Rembert who engage in all the witty banter. Jadea even texts Coach Rembert on off days—a brave action I’m never willing to try. Jadea is hardly listening to me, already typing away on her phone. Probably texting Daniel Chan for all I know. I tuck that comment aside for later and focus on my actual concern. “Jadea, what were you thinking?”
I must sound as freaked out as I am inside because Jadea immediately looks up. “What do you mean? You love Daniel Chan. A couple of weeks ago, you talked about how great he looked in his new glasses for literally fifteen minutes.”
