Page 94 of Full Court Press

“Good to be seen,” I replied, eyes going to Orlando, who refused to give me eye contact.

“You can have a seat. We’re just waiting on one more person,” Phil said, offering me a chair. I unfastened the button of my suit jacket, loosened my tie some, then took a seat directly across from Orlando. I placed my elbows on the table, then interlocked my fingers, staring directly at him.

That nigga still didn’t look up at me, because he knew he was on some bullshit.

“Where the hell is Tejada? I swear he acts as if he doesn’t know how to tell time,” Robin griped. Just then, the door opened, and in walked Denico Tejada.

Multi-billionaire philanthropist.

Co-owner of the Vipers.

And rumored to have buried many bodies.

The way his aura filled the room was unmatched. You could literally see the other owners shrink a little when he stepped in.

Boss shit.

“After all these years, and you still can’t help yourself from talking shit, can you?” he directed at Robin.

Robin cleared his throat. “As a business owner, when there are meetings being held⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up. You teetering on ya last toenail with me, Mrs. Doubtfire. Contrary to what you believe, I have more pressing shit that I have to deal with. So this shotgun meeting was not on my to-do list. Now, what’s going on that needed my immediate attention?”

Grant spoke up. “Orlando, since this was your call, you should take the floor.”

Wellington sat up in his chair before he spoke. “I have a question. Why is he sitting in on this meeting?”

“Because I wanted him to. I like to get both sides to a story before I put in my vote,” Denico told him.

“Fine. I won’t beat around the bush. I vote for Khalil Grey to be traded at the end of this season.”

I scoffed.

“And why is that, Wellington?” Denico asked.

“He has no integrity and shows no loyalty to the team. I feel as though he has allowed his success to go to his head and forgotten about the people who have helped him get here.”

“My talent got me here,” I interrupted.

“That’s true, but as of late, you have been proving to not be as dedicated to your team.”

“How has he not been dedicated?” Grant asked.

“Late to practices, showing up late to games, showing arrogance when he’s being interviewed, and not to mention, him and Isaiah Walker don’t show sportsman-like conduct on the court. They make a mockery out of their opponents and taunt the other teams, which has instigated fights or arguments on said court. I just feel he would do better with the Sacramento Golds.”

This motherfucka was just making up shit just to overshadow the fact that he was only doing this because of his big-head-ass daughter.

The room was silent for a moment before Denico sat up in his chair. “Thank you for your bogus-ass candor, Wellington. Grey, you got something you’d like to say?”

I nodded. “I’d like to clear up any and all allegations Mr. Wellington has made against me. For one: I was only late to two practices because of a family emergency; otherwise, my attendance has been squeaky clean both on and off the court. Secondly, if Isaiah and I shit-talk or taunt a team, it’s nothing but reciprocal communication on our end. Third, Drew Stanford would never allow me to show any type of disloyalty to anything I’m passionate about, and that includes my love for the sport, and my moms raised me to be a man who operates on nothing but integrity. So everything you’re saying about me is bullshit. Tell them the real reason you pulled them away from their families on their day off, because coming for my skill and character ain’t the reason why.”

Orlando scoffed and looked me dead in the eyes. “You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you? That move you made with my daughter wasn’t a smart thing to do, Grey. You got her all worked up, thinking she was finally getting her happily ever after, only for you to turn around and call off the wedding because you fucked and fell in love with a stripper after one night! I don’t want you playing for my team anymore, and that’s my final decision.”

“With all due disrespect, fuck you and your daughter. I would never marry a woman who don’t like kids—specifically, my motherfucking kid.”

He pointed a stern finger at me. “She never said that shit!”

“I swear, you niggas get on every last one of my nerves when it comes to trades. It sounds like you got a personal vendetta against him because of your hot-pussy daughter, and now you want him off the team. Your incompetence is unbecoming, Wellington. My vote is he stays. At the end of the day, this shit is business, not fucking personal,” Denico said.