Violation, p.1

Violation, page 1



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  Table of Contents

  Title Page




























  Authors Note


  A Novel


  Lolah Lace

  Published by Lolah Lace

  Copyright © 2016 by Lolah Lace

  Cover Design by LLPro

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Lolah Lace is no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, public figures or artists mentioned in the book.

  All rights reserved.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted right is illegal. No part of this book or its text may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews or without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.



  To all the active professional basketball players. Without you I would really have no reason to watch the game. Handsome, tall, sweaty and muscular. Like I said, I have a reason to watch you.


  I will like to give an extra thanks to editor Camille Crawford and beta readers Patrice Harrison and Sheila B. Your input, notes and contributions are much appreciated.



  This book contains fictional professional basketball players/characters. They play on a fictional professional basketball team. All characters are derived from the author’s imagination.


  We won. We pulled it off, our first five games of the preseason. It’s a little premature of me to think we will be unstoppable in the regular season. But we’re on fire. Signing with the Cavilers eight years ago was the best career move I could make. This team was a family. This town was my home.

  I walked the hall alongside my partner in crime Deshawn Jones. He was smiling and I was too. It felt damn good to win so many games back to back. Our adrenaline had died down a bit but we were still pretty amped. We both had showered and changed into our street clothes. We had to do a quick post conference after the game. I wasn’t really a talker. I usually sat quietly and let Deshawn do all the press. He was the star. He was our Batman. I was Robin the sidekick. Our other teammate Lance Hollister was the Joker. Lance was actually Point guard. Now I’m wondering how the hell did Lance get out of this press conference?

  We walked into the pressroom. It was chock-full of reporters and this was only preseason. It’s only going to get more chaotic. All the Chicago news stations were in attendance. The team’s general manager waited in the wings. Head Coach Dan Tucker trailed behind us. It was show time. I sat in the middle chair with Deshawn on one side of me and Coach Tucker on the other.

  The dull noise of the reporters stopped as soon as we all were seated. These news conferences were normal now that we’ve won two championships back to back.

  She was standing in the front row. I refused to give her direct eye contact. I knew she wanted it and I was sometimes an asshole. Somehow I knew she was going to target me first. I was ready for her question.

  “Congratulations on your fifth consecutive win. Noah Hart, you were the leading scorer tonight. Is this going to be the norm for you?”

  I called it. The tall blonde reporter from Channel 7 asked the first stupid question. She’s been trying to sleep with me for three years. I thought about it but something about her turns me off. She’s too eager, almost like a groupie. I had enough of them floating around me. If only she did her job as well as she flirted with me.

  What is her name? Yes, it’s - “Katie, I highly doubt it will ever happen again. So please don’t expect much from me.” I joked. Most of the press laughed. “Deshawn was consistently passing the ball to me. I had more than enough opportunities to make shots so I took them.”

  Deshawn reached over and mussed my overgrown hair. He smiled brightly at me. Here it comes. “I looked over at Noah and he was standing there looking so pretty. I gazed into his dreamy sapphire blue eyes and they said, Deshawn please throw me the ball. I fall for it, every single time.”

  The entire room erupted with laughter. Deshawn had this overzealous need to draw attention to my looks. I get that enough with the press. He is always busting my chops. It didn’t help that I made it into People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue two years straight. I wasn’t on the cover but just making it inside gave my teammates plenty of ammo to mercilessly taunt me. I was a fat kid growing up so this attention to my looks was weird and uncomfortable.

  Another reporter jumped to attention. “Deshawn, is this bromance real? Cav fans want to know.”

  “Hell yeah. I love Noah. He is my brother from another mother. Shout out to Mrs. Hart. She raised a pretty handsome man and the best Power forward I have ever played with in my career.”

  Deshawn patted my shoulder.

  I grinned. I couldn’t help it. “I love this man.” I winked at Dee. He made the job fun.

  “No-Hart I love you more,” Deshawn added with fifty percent sarcasm and fifty percent sincerity.

  The reporters all got a kick out of our bro-love. It wasn’t staged. It was actually how we were since the beginning of our friendship.

  “Coach Tucker, is this brotherly love what helps the Cavs win championships?” The male Sportscaster from channel 5 asked.

  “I sure hope so. The Cavs are a close-knit family. We work together as a solid unit because we all have the same goal, to win basketball games.”

  “Do you think you have a chance at another Championship this year?”

  “That would be a bit premature. We are a strong team with strong players. My guys work hard in the off-season. They are in tiptop shape. We are going to do our best like we do every season.”

  “So these first five wins, are they a prequel to what is to come?”

  “I sure hope so.” Coach Tucker replied.

  Katie was staring holes into my flesh. She was thirsty for my Long John. I could have her on her back in the underground parking garage if I saw fit. I made up my mind. That’s never going to happen.

  I proceeded to give standard answers for standard questions. We had been coached in the art of appropriate answers for reporter’s questions. It’s all part of the game
. Every franchise is the same give or take a few rules here or there.

  The endless streams of useless questions went on for at least thirty minutes. Some of the questions were valid enough but the sideshow was always the same. Blah, blah, blah and more blah, blah, blah.

  Finally, it was over. I walked down the corridor toward the locker room. Deshawn was beside me. The coach and the general manager were headed in the opposite direction.

  “No-Hart that horny bitch from Channel 7 is waiting for you, my man.”

  “Katie, you can have her.”

  “That’s all you bro’h. I like my woman with a little color and a lot more ass.”

  I chuckled. He was right. He had a type and Caucasian wasn’t it. “Dee why you won’t give the White girls your big black? That’s discrimination.” I couldn’t wait to hear his explanation. Dee had a reason for everything he did and thought.

  “Bro’h, long story short. I had a badass Barbie back in junior high. She was bad man. She wasn’t one of them skinny ass White girls like you fuck. She had a cornbread ass. Well I’m an idiot thinking she’s my girl and she is fucking all my boys. She gave me crabs. Now I’m young as shit and I’m itching and shit. Crabs, that’s some gross as shit right there. I saw real fucking bugs all on my shit and I was like Nah, no more Barb’s for me.”

  “What was our Barbie’s name?”

  “Patty Danes.”

  “Damn Dee you shouldn’t blame all white women for crabby-ass Patty.”

  “I’m not. I don’t need any Barbie’s. I got you pale ass. You just ass pretty as any White hoe.”

  “Thank you I appreciate it. I feel the same way about your Black ass. So Dee, you headed home?”

  “Hell no! Come on, you know me better than that. We’re going over to Club Honey Pot. Our boys are already there. It’s celebration time Noah.”

  “I’m going to take a pass.”

  “No man, we won the first five games. We poppin’ bottles in this bitch. Come on man let’s hit the club and watch some clappin’ asses.”

  “Not tonight Dee.”

  “The big bootie hoes are going to miss you.”

  “Nah I think they will be a-okay.”

  “Whatever, I’m out. Kat is waiting for me after I leave the club.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “The one from Barbados. I played basketball my whole life so I always keep it gangsta.”

  What does that have to do with Miss Barbados? “Okay well you do you.”

  “Later No-Hart.” Dee pulled me in for a bro-hug. “You scared to get your dick wet, but it’s cool.”

  “I’m not scared. I just don’t want crabs.” I snickered.

  “That’s fucked up. I can’t tell yo’ ass shit. You go home and get some beauty rest you Heidi Klum looking motherfucka. I’m out.”

  Deshawn jogged down the corridor on his way to the Stadium parking lot. His Porsche was parked out front as usual. His whip was being watched but Stadium security. He paid someone to pull his whip around to the front. He liked the celebrity status and the limelight. He was good at it. He was a suitable celebrity athlete. I had learned a lot from him. When I first joined the Cavs I could say he was a mentor to me.

  He said I feared women but that was so far from the truth. I feared injury. I was an integral part of this team. I wanted another championship just as much as everybody else. I wanted to make NBA history. I knew that one chink in our dynamic trio and our dream of a three-peat would fade to dust. I was committed to this organization, this team, and the players.

  Dee, Lance and I, we were the three amigos. The media had dubbed us The Magic Oreo. This term best described us and none of us took offense to it.

  I was White. Deshawn was Black and so was Lance. When we would pose for pictures I was always in the middle. That had to be why they started calling us The Magic Oreo. We weren’t always so magical. The magic came much later after we won that first NBA championship.

  I walked through the tunnel going over the previous plays in my head. I had to go and pick up the rest of my belongings before I headed home. I chatted with one of the stadium employees for about ten minutes. I ran into the owner’s son Kyle Kozlowski. We chatted and he was totally fucked up but he had a sober friend with him. He was in no shape to go to the strip club but I’m sure that’s where he was headed.

  It was time for me to go home and chill. Who was this on the bench outside the locker room? I recognized her. It was Serena, Deshawn’s wife. I assumed she had left for home. Deshawn was already on his way to the strip club. What was she still doing hanging around?

  “What are you still doing here?” I asked when I was a few feet away.

  “I was waiting for my husband but I found out he left without me about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh okay.” I knew better than to deny or confirm anything. I wasn’t married but our team had a strict code when it came to the wives. Simply put, I don’t know nothing and I didn’t see nothing.

  She looked up at me with her sad eyes and unhappy mouth. “I’m still stuck on this bench.”

  “Why are you stuck?” I tried to sound upbeat. I’ve turned her mood around before. Sometimes it’s harder than others.

  “Because I’m an idiot.”

  “No you’re not an idiot.” I pretended to give her a smile. I wish I had come the back way. I wouldn’t have run into her. It feels surreal when she’s unhappy. I’m used to Serena being upbeat and lively but sometimes Dee treats her like shit and it’s bad for everybody in general.

  “That’s up for debate.” She shrugged.

  “You’re funny. Fine, let’s debate.” I had a minute.

  “Do you even have time for a debate?”


  “You’re not going out with your teammates to celebrate your win?”

  “No, no, not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not feeling it.”

  “You don’t want ten basketball groupies hanging all over you?”

  “Serena you know me better than that. I’m not like that.”

  Sadness was deeply engraved in her flawless face. She was still pretty but just a gloomy version of pretty. I was failing in turning her mood around.

  “Yeah, I know that. I just wish some of your teammates felt the same way.”

  She was talking about Deshawn. This was awkward but it always was. I hated to see her hurt. She was a really sweet girl, well a sweet lady she was about six years older than me. Her face didn’t show her age. She was wrinkle-free. She was thirty-six and so was Deshawn. They were married a few years after he was signed to his first NBA team. I don’t think Deshawn really understood how he hurt her today and so many other days. I don’t think he cares but this is not any of my business.

  “Serena it’s late. You should probably go home to the kids. Everyone has already left the stadium. You don’t want to be here by yourself.” It was pretty deserted around here. There were just a few stragglers.

  “DJ isn’t home. He spent the night at a friends and Tenisha is away at college.”

  “Yeah I forgot. She grew up so quick. She just started driving and now she’s in college.”

  “Yeah life goes on, sometimes without you.” Serena covered her mouth and shook her head. Please don’t cry.

  “Noah, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?” She stood but I was six feet six inches. She still had to look up at me.

  “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “He left me here alone. He just left me. What is wrong with him?”

  I decided to ignore the last question. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No, not this time. I drove my own car.”

  “Okay well.” I shrugged.

  “You played pretty hard tonight.” She changed the subject.

  “I did.”

  “Rebounds check, assists check, points, double check.” She tried to smile and it worked. “You took a few tumbles.” She giggled at my fumbles and her once gloomy
face was lit up. Good, I don’t like to see people distressed. This engaging Serena is so much better.

  “You saw that, huh.”

  “We all saw it. You almost got kicked out of the game.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got to control my temper.”

  “You were turnt up tonight. Why?”

  “I don’t know. The ref was on some bullshit. I swear that ref has it out for me.”

  “Really?” She closed one eye and pursed her lips.

  “You tell me Mrs. Jones. Why would I be turnt up?”

  “Did you replace Shelley?”

  “That’s it. You want to go there?”

  “Yes I do. I’m already there. You need to catch up.”

  “Okay fine. No, I didn’t replace her. She has a new guy, some actor. I’m going to let her stay in the past.”

  My breakup with Shelley Pinkerton was six months ago. I can’t say I miss Shelley. Sure she was hot, blonde and a model but every attractive woman in my circle is a model. I’ve dated three lingerie models, two playmates and I even had a pornstar barking up my well-endowed tree. None of that means anything to me. Shelley was replaceable. I decided to keep that to myself. I didn’t want to sound like a prick.

  “Maybe you should get another steady girlfriend. You’re turning into a sourpuss.”

  “Well I guess you have some secret gold-digger detector. I don’t know the difference from the good ones and the bad ones. I’m kind of rich. I can’t just date anybody.”

  “You athletes always think every woman wants your little contract and endorsement money.” She puckered her generous lips.

  “Oh Serena you have no idea.”

  “I’m sure I do.” I guess she sort of does. Her husband is the epitome of a gold-digger magnet. He is the highest paid player on the team. Twenty-four million is not pocket money.

  “Okay fine. Let’s go get coffee so I can tell you how much better off I am without a girlfriend.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this garbage woman-bashing rhetoric.”

  I chuckled. “Where do you want to go?”

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