Don’t Let Go

1. Tyler

1

Tyler

Blood.

Blood dripped onto the shiny wood floor, and the LED lights reflected in the growing scarlet pool. A few people gasped when the basketball impacted Malik’s face. He always had butterfingers, and if he cost us this game…

A whistle blew as Coach Jackson rushed to Malik’s side with a rag. “Pinch your nose. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”

Malik gave the crowd a thumbs-up as he stumbled to the sidelines. People clapped like he had just done something amazing.

“Calm down,” my best friend, Quincy, muttered as he stood beside me. “You know the guy’s a ham.”

“If he wasn’t the coach’s nephew, you know he’d never be on this team.”

“Keep your damn head in the game. We gotta win this.” He nodded toward his cheerleader girlfriend. “You know the ladies love winners.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I waved him off.

After a quick mop-up of the blood, the game resumed with one minute left on the clock.

We have to win this game to advance to the championships.

The gym fell under a hush after I stole the basketball from the other team. My heart pounded in my skull while the ball bounced underneath my hand as I ran down the court.

An opponent tried to cut me off as he towered over me with his arms, ready to steal the ball back. The guy was well over seven feet tall — a perfect wall for my defeat. I stopped dribbling and had five seconds to decide whether my move won or lost the game. I could either shoot from where I stood, a mere nine yards away from the basket, or I could chance tossing the ball to Quincy, who had a guy covering his every move like a fly on honey.

Screw it.

I jumped as high as possible without a running start and shot the ball forward.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Senator!”

I looked over and froze.

My father slipped inside quietly. Nice to see he finally made it to a game when it was over. The man never came to my games. I take that back — he came to my games when I played in grade school, but since he became a state senator five years ago, he never made an appearance. At least not until tonight.

The buzzer sounded, cheers echoed off the walls, and fans stomped their feet in the bleachers. The announcer yelled, “That’s it! The Lincoln Mountain Lions have won the game!”

My teammates gathered around, smacking me on the back while smiles flashed on their sweaty faces. It took my brain a moment to realize what happened. I made the shot. We won the game.

But my attention fell on my father again. He clapped his hands along with the crowd and gave me a nod of approval.

I wanted to make my way over to him, but we had to line up and high-five the other team for a good game. Rules were rules.

Iron Gate High mean-mugged us as we shook hands before leaving the floor for our locker rooms. I couldn’t blame them. We knocked them out from qualifying for the state championship. Iron Gate High and Lincoln High were neck and neck with stats, but now we were in the top five. We planned to finish this season strong and bring home another trophy for our impressive glass case. Since football season had been over for a while, boys’ basketball had taken over Lincoln High. After this game, we’d be top dogs. Anything we touched would turn to gold.

My team hollered our fight song as we ran past the cheerleaders. Quincy went out of his way to run past his girlfriend, Jessica, who giggled and waved one of her blue pom-poms at him.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching my father shake hands with another man and lean in to talk privately. I bet the guy was another voter that my father felt the need to impress with his speeches and promises for a better Arizona.

Of course, my father had to find an opportunity to talk politics. He finally showed up to a game, ended up being super late, and then turned around and made it all about his career — a classic James Winston move.

I shook my head and followed my team into the locker room.

Our coach’s assistant, Levi, was in his usual spot in front of the locker room door. He high-fived us as we ran inside to shower and change.

My blood boiled. I couldn’t enjoy this win with my father out there gaining more fucking votes because he always had to think of the next election.

“I can’t believe him!” I punched my locker.

“We won. Why you so wound up?” Brandon asked, hitting me on the back.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension, but it continued to build. “Just my old man,” I grumbled, grabbing a clean white towel from the pile on the bench.

Malik snapped his towel in my direction. “If your dad doesn’t show up to a game, you bitch. If your dad does show up to a game, you bitch. I’m thinking you’re just a little bitch.”

“At least I have hand-eye coordination.” I gestured to his bloodstained face. “Unlike you.”

Leo shoulder-checked Malik and sat on the bench to change shoes. “Lay off. You don’t understand Ty’s beef with his dad.”

“Awe.” Malik pouted, mocking me. “Your daddy’s a senator. You get everything you want. Hell, you have a Rolls-Royce, and you still complain! I’m sick of you—”

Leo abandoned tying his other shoe to stand between Malik and me. “Shut up, man. Seriously. You know Ty has a lot going on with his mother passing last year. Drop it.”

Anger bit into my veins. I hated when someone felt the need to defend me, especially when they brought up my mom. That felt like a cheap cop-out.

Quincy tossed my red shirt at me. “Dude, get dressed and let’s bounce.” He had ice taped around his torso, which explained why he wasn’t here to defuse this argument sooner. He usually kept me out of fights. “Where’s your head at? You with me?”

I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out of my mouth. “Yeah. I’m with ya.” I shrugged out of my jersey and changed into my T-shirt and jeans.

Malik stood in our way as we moved to leave. “You comin’ to the party tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” I cracked my knuckles. Malik was a large guy who liked to intimidate people with his size. I, however, knew how to use others’ strengths against them.

Quincy shoved me past Malik. “I told you to chill, dammit.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to Malik or me. Most likely, both of us.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Quincy gave me a once-over.

I pounded my chest like Tarzan. “I’m solid steel. I’m good.”

He stared at me, unsure if he should believe me. “Okay, Superman. Whatever you say.”

We walked down the hall and through the exit door.

“That was a hell of a last play. That shot was one for the record books.”

I pretended to slam dunk. “Right? I wish the scouts were here tonight. That would’ve been a move they’d remember.”

Iris and Jessica waved at us from across the parking lot. I leaned against my car and encircled my hands around Iris’s waist when she came over to kiss me. She had large brown eyes, perfect olive skin, and her hair was braided with a splash of purple at the end.

“My champion,” she said, kissing me again.

“My queen.” I ran my finger along her collarbone. I had a surprise for her tonight: a pink diamond kitty necklace. She eyed it online the other day, and I had to buy it for my girl.

Jessica wrapped her arms around Quincy before jumping back in surprise. “Babe, you’re cold.”

Quincy chuckled, eighty-sixing the ice and tossing it in a nearby trash can. “Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Jessica brushed her hand where it was. “Did you get injured?”

“Nah. Just bruised a little.”

Iris looked up at me, and her brown eyes sparkled under the streetlight. “Did you get hurt?”

I shook my head. “I’m tough. Nothing can touch me.”

She giggled as I kissed the corner of her mouth before leaving a trail of kisses along her throat.

“Okay. That’s enough, love.” Iris put her finger to my lips. “We gotta go get ready for the party tonight. I’ll see you later.”

With a quick kiss goodbye, the girls walked toward Jessica’s car.

I rubbed the back of my neck and was about to say something to Quincy when I saw my dad talking to a man and a woman in the distance. I dropped what I was saying and walked over to the man who would rather be a state senator than my dad.

My father wore a black tux with a checkered tie. He always had to look the part. When I stood next to him at his conventions, I was only a few inches taller. We both had the same strong jawbones, chestnut brown hair, and dark eyes. When I was younger, people always told me I looked like my father when he was my age. I thought that was a high honor, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore. I didn’t want to inherit his ego as well.

My dad looked up and saw me coming. “It was nice talking to you, Charles and Julie. I’ll tell the governor your insightful take on the clean water initiative.”

The couple thanked my father and shook his hand. They linked arms as they walked across the parking lot, probably gushing over how amazing and down-to-earth their senator was.

My father turned toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “There’s my boy. What a game!”

I shoved my hands in my front pockets. “I saw you come in a few seconds before the final buzzer. Don’t pretend like you saw the whole game.”

Dad’s friendly grin turned into a sneer as his hand fell to his side. “You know how hard it is for me to come out. I flew in from DC yesterday and was in meetings all day today.”

I pointed my finger at his chest. “I bought that excuse years ago, but I was na?ve then. You haven’t seen me play since the seventh grade. I’m a senior in high school now. Mom would have never let anything get in the way of coming. She was the one who gave a damn.”

Without warning, my dad slapped me across the face. My cheek burned, but I wouldn’t show that it stung.

“Boy, don’t you use your mother against me. We both lost a good woman who would move the world for those she loved.”

I spat on the ground. “She was always the better parent.”

Dad pressed his lips together, wanting to say more but refusing to. “Tyler.” He sighed. “I don’t want to fight. I came to see you play. I know I wasn’t here long, but what I saw was amazing. You’re so talented. I’m proud of you.”

I kicked a rock. It skipped a couple of times before landing in the dirt. “Thanks, but sometimes I would like more than words of encouragement. Sometimes, I’d like you to show up.”

He nodded. “I did tonight, and in a few weeks, I was thinking of going to our old fishing spot like we talked about last month. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I itched the back of my right leg with the top of my left sneaker. “Sure. That would be great.” I looked over my shoulder at Quincy, trying to find an escape. “Look—”

Dad cut me off without meaning to. “I know we don’t spend enough time together.” He rubbed the side of his nose and looked at his wristwatch. “Do you want to get a quick bite to eat? We could catch up.” He touched my face where he slapped me. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

I looked over at Quincy again. He was still leaning against my car, scrolling through his phone. “I would, but I need to help Quincy with something tonight. Then we might hang out with some friends later. Can I get a rain check?”

“Yeah.” He toyed with his watch, fixing it even though it didn’t move. “Go have fun. I’ll see you later.”

“Maybe at my next game, you can come at halftime. See a bit more.”

He laughed. “When is the next game?”

“Next Thursday down in Chandler.”

Dad’s face twisted with disdain. “I can’t next Thursday.”

Typical. “Forget about it. We’re near the finals, and then we’re going to win the state championship, and then I’m done. No more basketball for my high school career.” I clenched my jaw. “But hey, maybe you can catch at least one college game.”

Dad’s forehead furrowed, the look of disappointment I had come to know when I did something disapproving while he was running for senate set on his face. “I can’t miss this meeting, Tyler. You’re not the only one counting on me. I’ve got all of Arizona to think about.” That vein on his forehead bulged out a little.

“That’s fine,” I said, taking a few steps back. “I know where your loyalty lies. I’ll talk to you later.” I turned my back on him and caught up with Quincy.

“What’s going on?” Quincy asked in a hushed voice as we got into my car.

“Same shit, different day.” I started the car and took off. My father stood in the parking lot, watching me peel out like an immature child.

I was done thinking about my father tonight. He could have the state of Arizona. Hell, he could impress the entire country. From now on, I’m going my own way.