Worth Saving(47)

“Yeah, man. Are you sure you want to do this now?” Jordan chimes in, making me feel even worse.

The three of us sit on a bench outside in the hot Nevada sun, waiting for Layla to show up. Jason and Jordan have been sitting next to me, trying their best to talk me out of this, but my mind’s made up. Layla and I talked about it, and we’re ready.

“Yes, I’m sure I want to do it now,” I fire back. “You guys were all for this a few days ago, so don’t start getting cold feet now that we’re here. Just man up, stretch out, or whatever the hell you have to do, and get ready. This is happening. Now.”

Right on cue, I see Layla’s maroon Maxima pull into the parking lot. I feel butterflies the size of bats in my stomach as she walks towards us. It’s partly because she’s so damn beautiful and I love watching her stride her way over to me, and partially because of what we’re about to do.

When she makes her way down the stairs, I greet her at the bottom and give her a short kiss.

“Hi,” I say, feeling stupid for smiling from ear to ear.

“Hey,” she replies.

Jason gets up and walks over to the two of us.

“What’s up, Layla?” he greets with a light hug. “Okay, now I’ve already asked Austin about this, but I feel obligated as a lawyer to ask you, too. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you’re ready?”

Layla smiles a confident smile, showing all of her perfectly white teeth.

“Oh please, Jason,” she replies. “You started talking shit within the first minute I met you. There’s no backing out of it now. Let’s do this.”

Jason and Jordan both start doing little stretches.

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jason replies, then he bounces the basketball to me, and the four of us walk onto the court.

It’s been a couple of days since the movies, but the day has finally come. It’s hilarious seeing the two lawyers dressed in basketball shorts after having only seen them in fancy suits for the most part. Of course, Jason had to wear a LeBron jersey, but it’s one from when he played with the Heat, so he looks stupid. Layla is rocking a red Jordan jersey with red basketball shorts, and her long hair is tied into a tight ponytail. Jordan almost looks like Michael Jordan with that glistening bald head, and he looks fit and athletic, so I expect him to be pretty good. As for me, Jason should know I’ve been playing ball my whole life. I was on the varsity all through high school, but I put the ball down when I went to college, but they have no idea how good Layla is. These boys don’t know what they’re in for.

“Alright, it’s first to ten. Make it, take it,” Jordan says as he steps up to the top of the key. “Since you’ve got the girl on your team, you guys can have the ball first.”

“Oh, we don’t need your charity,” Layla snaps. “We’ll shoot for ball.”

Jason shrugs and then shoots. The ball clangs off the side of the rim and bounces away. Layla looks like she’s ready to crack a joke, but she decides against it. I bring her the ball and let her be the one to take the shot, and it barely even touches the net when it goes in. I see the confidence in Jason’s face shrink away, but he tries to hide it.

“One shot. One lucky shot means nothing,” he says, but the arrogance is gone from his voice.

Layla takes the ball from the top of the key.

“Alright, let’s go,” she says with a smile.

Layla checks the ball to Jason, who’s guarding her, and then passes it in to me. To my surprise, just because Jordan has a famous last name for a first name, it doesn’t mean he’s anything like the real guy. I pump fake the shot and Jordan jumps in the air and flies past me like a bat out of hell, giving me an easy lane to the basket as I go in for the layup. Layla cheers and runs over to me when I score and we flaunt with a flamboyant high five.

“Well, that was easy,” she mocks as she walks past the two of them and gets the ball back from Jordan. “One, nothing.”

This time, when Layla passes me the ball, Jordan doesn’t fall for the pump fake, he stays on his feet and guards me closely as I dribble, so I pass it back to Layla. Jordan and I stand there and watch in awe as Layla puts on some sort of dribbling exhibition like she’s a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter, and then does a great crossover. Jason can’t keep up with the barrage of moves, and when Layla shoots her jump shot, he can’t even attempt to block it and has to watch in agony as it swishes through the net.

“Holy shit!” Jordan exclaims. “Dude, she just torched you. She just set you on fire.”

“Shut up!” Jason barks. “You better not say anything to anybody when we get back to Seattle. This does not make its way into the firm.”

“What? Fuck that, I’m telling everybody in the office,” Jordan replies as Layla and I embrace and laugh at the two of them.

“You can’t say shit,” Jason bites back. “You’re on my team, so if I lose, you lose, too.”

“Whatever, I’m not the one guarding the girl!”

“Alright, you sexist little men, can we finish this game or what? Two, nothing.” Layla chimes in. “I wouldn’t get so bent out of shape yet. This ass whooping is just getting started.”

The rest of the game goes about the same as the beginning. Layla and I proceed to kick the shit out of Jason and Jordan for two games in a row. They put up a few points of their own, but in the end, Layla and I win both games pretty handily. By the time we’re done, Jason is bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to suck up all the air he can. His LeBron jersey is soaked through with sweat. I’d put money down that he never plays basketball ever again.