7.
“You’re really brave, Doctor Jay,” Bonita said, after Jay and Stefani had arrived at the elementary school court. “Too brave, ‘cause I’ll tear you apart.” She dribbled her ball to the free-throw line, then passed it to Jay.
"Shut up and check." Jay said. He tossed the ball underhand to give her the first shot.
"Oooooh," Bonita flexed her fingers, ball in hands, to hex him. “Old man's serious. Let’s go."
Bonita dribbled rapidly, switching hands to cause confusion, but Jay swatted the ball before she could drive to the hoop. Bonita jept tapping Jay’s dribbling hand to distract him. But he maintained control, breaking free of Bonita’s defenses to hit a jump shot for the first points of the morning.
Bonita’s jaw dropped. “Whoa, Doc! Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I’ve played a little ball,” he said.
“First time anyone's stepped in my lane—and lived to talk about it.” She gave Jay the evil eye then grinned. “Hey Doc, it’s cool. “Keep bringing your game.”
After checking the ball, Jay tried a shoulder fake. Bonita didn’t bite. She stole the ball, dribbled to a safe distance from his outstretched arms, set her feet and fired a jump shot that bounced off the back of the rim and into the net.
Jay bent over and caught his breath. Bonita was eight years younger and she practiced every day. No shame to be winded.
“Poor Doc. Wanna break? Got nice, cold Gatorade in there. Help yourself.” Bonita pointed to a black and blue gym bag large enough to carry a team’s supply of basketballs.
“Zip it.” Jay said as he tossed the ball to her. “Let’s go.”
Bonita dribbled, pulled up and fired. The ball nicked the rim and landed in Jay's waiting hands. She stood still as he dribbled away from the basket. Jay hit a twenty-footer. The ball swished through. Nothing but net.
As the ball hit the ground, Bonita shook her head. “Can’t believe I gave two shots to an old man.”
“This isn’t about you. It's about her." Jay pointed to Stefani.
“Yeah, you're right. We’re not finished, unless you're tired.”
Jay brushed his knees. He felt a throbbing around the kneecaps but straightened up. “No, I'm ready.”
Jay matched Bonita basket for basket but stayed ahead by only one. Careful not to swing an arm or elbow into Bonita's path—this match was not about inflicting pain—Jay concentrated on the ball. Though he got to ten, he had to win by two. Street rules.
"You okay, Doc?" Bonita asked.
Jay waved her off.
Bonita coiled her arms and stared at the net. Instead of driving to the basket, she shot from the free-throw line and missed.
Jay grabbed the rebound and dribbled back, Bonita in pursuit. Not looking at the ball, Jay left her behind as he hit an easy lay-up for the game-winning point.
“C’mon Bo,” Stefani said. “You gave him that shot.”
“No, he got it. Fair and square. Good game, Doc.” Bonita and Jay slapped palms. She offered Stefani a high-five, too. But she refused to slap or clasp Bonita’s outstretched hand.
Hands on hips, Bonita glared at Stefani. “Get your head out of those clouds. You have to nail a starting job to get noticed. Don’t you want it?”
“Whatever.”
Jay stepped between them. “Bonita, please.”
No, Doc. She’s gotta grow up. Jeez, Stef, you’re good enough to start. But I can’t hold your hand. You’ve got to show that you can rebound, drive to the basket like old Doc here, pass when there’s a better option than taking the shot yourself. You’ve got so much talent, but you don’t know the game like I do.”
“Great, he’s my ‘coach’ and you’re my wicked stepsister.” Stefani held up her middle finger.
“It’s really hard to speak up for you when you keep flipping off. You’re making it easy for Hughes to leave you on the bench-or cut you for good.” Bonita stepped towards Stefani and hugged her tight. “You can do it, Stef,” she whispered. “Work with us.” Bonita was in no hurry to let go. She draped her chin over Stefani’s shoulder and winked to Jay. “I’ll help you. I promise,” she whispered into her ear.
Jay winked back.
Bonita snuck a thumbs up.