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“I said to get away from me. My relationships are none of your concern.”
He reaches for me, and I recoil, slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Get away from me, Eric. I mean it. I’m done with you.”
“I ain’t going to do that,” he says. “You’re my sister.”
“She told you to walk away,” Ben says. “I suggest you do what she asked.”
“And I suggest you fuck off.”
Before Ben can reply, Eric lunges at him and gives him a hard two-handed shove in the chest. Clearly not expecting it, Ben stumbles back and gets tangled up in some folding chairs. He manages to keep his balance somehow and comes storming right back, his lips curled back and his hands balled into fists. I can’t believe this is happening. This doesn’t even seem real.
“Stop it. Both of you,” I shout. “Please, just stop it!”
Ben stalks forward, his eyes fixed on Eric. Before he can throw a blow, shrill whistles cut through the air and echo around the gym.
“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?” Coach Holman shouts as he runs over.
Ben and Eric both stop and turn to the coach, their faces still smoldering with rage. Coach Holman stops between them, his face almost purple with anger. He levels an angry glare first at Ben and then at my brother.
“We’re not doing this,” he says. “This… this shit is unacceptable.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Ben murmurs.
“Yeah,” Eric replies. “Sorry.”
“What the fuck is the problem here?” Holman growls.
“Just a difference of opinion,” Ben says.
Breathing heavily, his face slowly fading from apoplectic purple to merely angry red, Coach Holman continues glaring at one and then the other. The moment, filled with heightened tension, seems to drag out forever.
“This isn’t going to work for me,” he finally says. “Go home. Both of you.”
“Coach—”
“I said go home. Get the fuck out of my gym. I can’t even look at either of you,” Holman snarls. “Go. Get the fuck off my floor. Now, boys. Go now.”
Eric storms away immediately, but Ben casts a look back at me, a tight smile on his face, before he turns and heads for the locker room. Coach Holman watches them go and turns to me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say and sigh. “I just… yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Holman turns and stalks away, muttering darkly to himself under his breath. He blows his whistle and gathers the team around him, no doubt trying to smooth over what just happened.
My brother not only humiliated me, but he also threw mud on my career. I have to wonder now if Holman or somebody else within the organization is going to ask for a new beat writer to be assigned because of what happened.
What started as a good day has suddenly turned into shit. “Thanks, Eric. Thanks a lot.”
11
BEN
“Iappreciate you two coming in on such short notice this morning,” Coach Holman says.
Neither of us says anything and are studiously ignoring each other. I sit in one chair and Eric sits in another on the other side of the room as if we’re putting as much physical distance between us as possible. And as spacious as Coach Holman’s office is, it’s still not nearly big enough. Coach glances at Eric then at me, and sighs.
