章 114: Mine
He couldn't slack off even if he wanted to, Geoffrey kept a watchful eye through the ever-present cameras as to ensure Kenny adhered to the rigorous training regimen given to him by Dr. Chen. At first, the constant surveillance had grated on Kenny's nerves, but he couldn't deny the results.
As Kenny laced up his shoes in the locker room before the Red Claws game, he could feel the electricity in the air. This wasn't just another regular-season matchup - this was a litmus test. The Red Claws boasted Jabari Parker, the second overall pick in the 2014 NBA draft who had been sent down for a rehab stint. Kenny knew this was his chance to measure himself against legitimate NBA talent and one of the most promising at that.
The arena was packed, the crowd sensing the importance of the game. As Kenny emerged from the tunnel, he spotted Devon and Malik in their usual seats, flanked by Arell's security he had left with them. He gave them a quick nod before settling into his pregame routine.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers: "And now, your starting lineup for your College Park Skyhawks! At point guard, standing 6'2, number 11, Kennnnnny Valery!"
Kenny jogged onto the court, the roar of the crowd washing over him. As he shook hands with the officials and opposing players, his eyes locked with Jabari Parker's. The rookie's gaze was intense, almost challenging. Kenny met it without flinching.
The ref tossed the ball for the opening tip and Kenny's mind immediately raced through potential plays. He watched intently as Kwesi tipped the ball back to him, his fingers tingling with anticipation. The moment the leather touched his hands, Kenny was in motion.
He dribbled down the court with his head up, eyes scanning the defense. Parker picked him up at half-court, his long arms spread wide. Kenny could feel the rookie's breath on his neck, but he remained calm, his dribble never faltering.
"Let's see what you got, G-League," Parker taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.
Kenny didn't respond verbally. Instead, he unleashed a lightning-quick crossover that had Parker stumbling. The crowd gasped as Kenny exploded towards the hoop, elevating for a layup. He felt Parker's hand graze his back, but it wasn't enough to deter him. The ball kissed off the glass and through the net.
As they jogged back on defense, Kenny caught Parker's eye. "Welcome to my house," he said softly, just loud enough for the rookie to hear.
The first quarter unfolded like a chess match, with Kenny and Parker trading moves and countermoves. Kenny's quickness gave him an edge, but Parker's experience showed in his positioning and decision-making. Sweat beaded on Kenny's forehead as he worked tirelessly on both ends of the floor, his jersey clinging to his back.
With two minutes left in the quarter, Kenny found himself isolated against Parker at the top of the key. The crowd grew hushed, anticipating something special. Kenny's dribble was hypnotic, the ball an extension of his arm as he rocked back and forth.
Suddenly, Kenny exploded to his right. Parker reacted, but Kenny had already changed direction, the ball a blur as he went between his legs. Parker lunged, off-balance, and Kenny saw his opening. He planted his right foot and spun, leaving Parker grasping at air. The lane opened up, and Kenny glided to the rim for an acrobatic finish that had the crowd on its feet.
As the game wore on, Kenny found himself locked in a mental battle with Parker. Every possession was a test of wills, a chance to assert dominance. Kenny's crossovers grew more elaborate, his passes more daring. Parker countered with textbook defensive footwork and timely help rotations.
Midway through the second quarter, Kenny caught Parker with a hesitation move that left him flat-footed. As Kenny accelerated past him, he felt a tug on his jersey. The ref's whistle blew, and Parker threw his hands up in frustration.
"Can't keep up, rook?" Kenny chirped as he walked to the free-throw line, his chest heaving with exertion.
Parker's eyes narrowed. "Who are you again?" He taunted but Kenny paid him no mind.
Kenny stood at the line, taking a moment to survey the court. He noticed Parker favoring his left side slightly, a potential weakness to exploit. He also saw Tyrell working to get open on the wing, and made a mental note to look for him on the next possession.
The third quarter brought a new level of intensity. Kenny's stat line was already great - 18 points, 9 assists, and 4 steals - but Parker was keeping pace with 16 points and 7 rebounds of his own. The physical toll of the game was starting to show, with both players sporting a sheen of sweat and labored breathing.
Kenny felt a twinge in his recently healed leg as he cut hard to the basket, drawing a foul from Parker. He winced slightly as he got up, a flash of concern crossing his face. Parker noticed.
"Leg bothering you?" he asked, a mix of genuine concern and competitive interest in his voice.
Kenny shook it off. "I'm good."
But as he walked to the free-throw line, Kenny knew he needed to be smart. His leg wasn't exactly injury prone but still he couldn't risk reinjuring himself, not when he was so close to his NBA dream. He decided to adjust his game, relying more on his court vision and passing skills rather than his explosive drives.
As the fourth quarter began, fatigue started to set in for both teams. Kenny could feel the lactic acid building in his legs, but he refused to let it show. Every cut was crisp, every screen set with purpose. He was determined to outlast Parker and secure the win.
With three minutes left and the Skyhawks clinging to a two-point lead, Kenny found himself with the ball at the top of the key. The shot clock was winding down, and Parker was right in his face, arms outstretched.
Kenny jabbed right, then left, but Parker didn't bite. The crowd was on its feet, the tension palpable. With two seconds left on the shot clock, Kenny knew he had to make a move.
He took one hard dribble to his left, then suddenly stepped back. Parker, anticipating a drive, lunged forward. In that split second, Kenny had all the space he needed. He rose up, the ball floating off his fingertips just as the shot clock expired.
Time seemed to stand still as the ball arced through the air. The arena held its collective breath. Then, nothing but net. The crowd exploded as Kenny backpedaled down the court, three fingers raised in triumph.
That shot proved to be the dagger. The Skyhawks closed out the game 112-107, with Kenny finishing with a near triple-double: 28 points, 12 assists, and 8 rebounds. Parker had acquitted himself well with 24 points and 9 rebounds, but in the end, it was Kenny's night.
As the final buzzer sounded, Parker approached Kenny, hand outstretched. "Hell of a game, man," he said, genuine respect in his voice. "You belong up there with us."
Kenny shook his hand, a mix of pride and humility washing over him. "Appreciate that. You pushed me tonight."
The victory catapulted the Skyhawks to 25-22, firmly in control of the 4th seed. With just two games left, their playoff destiny was in their own hands.
The next game against the Delaware Blue Coats proved to be a different kind of challenge. Without an NBA-caliber opponent to focus on, Kenny found himself battling complacency. He started the game slowly, his passes a beat off and his shots falling short.
At halftime, with the Skyhawks trailing by seven, Coach Stevens pulled Kenny aside.
"What's going on out there, Kenny? This isn't like you."
Kenny sighed, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I don't know, Coach. I just can't seem to find my rhythm."
Coach Stevens looked him in the eye. "Listen, every game matters. Every possession matters. You can't afford to take any team lightly, not if you want to make it to the next level. Now go out there and show me why you deserve to be in the NBA."
Those words lit a fire under Kenny. He came out in the third quarter like a man possessed, his crossovers sharper, his passes crisper. He orchestrated a 15-2 run to start the half, threading needles through the Blue Coats' defense and finishing acrobatically at the rim.
One play in particular stood out. With the shot clock winding down, Kenny found himself trapped near halfcourt. Instead of panicking, he kept his dribble alive, scanning the court. Just as the double team closed in, he spotted Darius cutting to the basket. In one fluid motion, Kenny leapt, twisting his body in midair to avoid the defenders' outstretched arms. He whipped a behind-the-back pass that split the defense perfectly, hitting Darius in stride for an emphatic dunk.
The crowd went wild, and Kenny felt the momentum shift decisively in their favor. They went on to win 118-110, with Kenny notching a career-high 18 assists to go along with his 25 points.
The final regular-season game against the Capital City Go-Go was almost anticlimactic. With their playoff spot secure, Kenny focused on fine-tuning the team's chemistry. He made a conscious effort to get everyone involved, setting up his teammates for easy baskets and cheering loudly from the bench when the reserves got their chance to shine.
The Skyhawks won handily, 124-103, finishing the regular season with a 27-23 record and the 4th seed firmly in hand. As Kenny walked off the court for the last time in the regular season, he felt a sense of accomplishment mixed with anticipation. The real test was yet to come.
In the locker room, surrounded by his celebrating teammates, Kenny's phone buzzed with a message from Geoffrey:
"Congratulations on making the playoffs. But remember, this is where the real work begins. Show them why you're the best player in the G League."
Kenny smiled, a determined glint in his eye. The journey wasn't over yet. In fact, it was just beginning. The playoffs loomed, and with them, Kenny's chance to prove once and for all that he belonged in the NBA. He was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead, confident in his abilities and hungry for success. The Skyhawks were in the playoffs, and Kenny Valery was ready to soar.
<>
The following day after meeting India's parents, Arell stepped out of his SUV, squinting against the bright Los Angeles sun. He adjusted the collar of his street jacket, the latest piece from his Infinity clothing line. The jacket was a work of art - tough and edgy, with the Infinity logo stitched intricately along the arms in a way that caught the light and demanded attention.
Geoffrey stood nearby, surveying the scene with a critical eye. A team of photographers setting up for the photoshoot while the security detail maintained a discreet perimeter, their watchful eyes scanning the area constantly.
"Looking good," Geoffrey said, nodding approvingly at Arell's outfit.
Arell grinned, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that came with a new release. "Yeah, man. It's fire. Can't wait to see how people react."
Between takes, Geoffrey pulled Arell aside."I know you're not keen on doing shows right now, given everything that went down with The Game."
Arell nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yeah, I don't want to risk any confrontations. Not with everything going on with India and the baby."
Geoffrey clapped him on the shoulder. "That's why I've been working on some other opportunities. I'm thinking we focus on expanding the Infinity brand. Hit up some high-end stores, see about getting the line in their shops."
Arell's eyes lit up. "For real? That'd be dope."
"Absolutely," Geoffrey grinned. "I've already got a few meetings lined up."
Arell lowered his voice. "About those meetings... can we talk about something else first… you know India and I are heading to get some tests done. You know, for the baby. I was wondering if you could... arrange something extra."
Understanding dawned in Geoffrey's eyes. "You want a DNA test."
Arell nodded, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah. Just... just to be sure, you know? Can you make sure it's done discreetly? Without India knowing?"
Geoffrey's expression turned serious. "I'll take care of it. The doctor we hired will get it for us without informing them. You sure about this, though?"
Arell sighed. "I have to know, Geoffrey. For my own peace of mind."
"Alright," Geoffrey agreed. "I'll make sure it's handled."
Later that afternoon, Arell found himself behind the wheel of a SUV, with India in the passenger seat and Crystal chattering away in the back. Cam and Rashad along with a host of security followed in other vehicles, maintaining a watchful presence.
As they pulled into the parking lot of the medical center, Arell felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He reached over, giving India's hand a gentle squeeze. "You ready for this?"
India took a deep breath, her fingers intertwining with his. "As ready as I'll ever be. You?"
Arell managed a smile. "You, yourself," he said softly, their little ritual bringing a sense of comfort.
They made their way into the building, Crystal trailing behind them, her eyes darting around curiously. The waiting room was mercifully empty, save for a young couple engrossed in a parenting magazine.
A nurse called them back, leading them to an examination room. Dr. Amelia Carter, a woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, greeted them with a warm smile.
"India Westbrooks and Arell Rose." she said, glancing at her chart.
"That's us," he said, shifting uncomfortably.
Dr. Carter nodded. "Alright then. So, you're here for your first prenatal checkup. How are you feeling, India?"
India perched on the edge of the examination table, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Tired. Nauseous. A little scared, to be honest."
Dr. Carter's expression softened. "That's all completely normal. Let's start with some basic questions, shall we?"
As the doctor began her examination, asking about India's medical history and current symptoms, Arell found himself studying the posters on the wall. One detailed the stages of fetal development, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.
"And how old are you both?" Dr. Carter asked, glancing between them.
"Nineteen," they answered in unison.
The doctor's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see. And how long have you been together?"
Arell and India exchanged a glance. "It's... complicated," India said softly.
Dr. Carter nodded, her expression neutral. "Well, every family is different. Are you planning on getting married?"
Arell felt his face grow hot. "Uh, we haven't really... I mean, we're just focusing on the baby right now."
India laughed nervously. "Yeah, one thing at a time, right?"
The doctor smiled kindly. "Of course. Now, let's talk about prenatal care and what you can expect over the next few months."
As Dr. Carter launched into a detailed explanation of dietary recommendations, exercise guidelines, and potential symptoms to watch out for, Arell found his mind wandering. He pictured himself holding a tiny, squirming bundle, and a wave of panic washed over him. Was he really ready for this?
"Arell?" India's voice snapped him back to reality. "Did you hear what Dr. Carter said?"
He blinked, focusing on the doctor's concerned face. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
Dr. Carter's expression was patient. "I was saying that it's important for both parents to be involved in prenatal care. Are you planning to attend the birthing classes together?"
Arell nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course. Whatever India needs."
As the examination continued, Dr. Carter frowned slightly. "India, your blood pressure is a bit higher than I'd like. It's not cause for alarm, but we'll need to monitor it closely."
India's hand found Arell's, squeezing tightly. "Is... is that bad for the baby?"
Dr. Carter shook her head. "Not at this stage, but we'll want to keep an eye on it. I'm going to recommend some stress-reduction techniques and maybe some light yoga. Now, let's see if we can get a look at your little one, shall we?"
As the doctor prepared the ultrasound machine, Arell felt his heart racing. This was it. The moment that would make it all real.
The room fell silent as Dr. Carter moved the wand over India's still-flat stomach. Suddenly, a rapid whooshing sound filled the air.
"There we are," Dr. Carter said softly. "That's your baby's heartbeat."
Arell stared at the grainy image on the screen, trying to make sense of the tiny blob that was apparently his child. The sound of the heartbeat echoed in his ears, fast and strong.
"Oh my god," India whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Arell, do you hear that?"
He nodded, unable to form words. The reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. This was real. This was happening.
As they left the examination room, dazed and clutching a handful of pamphlets and ultrasound printouts, Crystal pounced on them.
"Well? How did it go? Is everything okay? Can I see the pictures?"
India laughed, wiping away a stray tear. "Everything's fine, Crystal. Here, look."
As Crystal cooed over the ultrasound image, Arell felt his phone vibrate. A text from Geoffrey: "It's done. 99.9% match. Congratulations, daddy."
Arell swallowed hard, guilt churning in his stomach. He looked at India, her face glowing with a mix of excitement and nerves, and felt a pang of shame. How could he have ever doubted her?
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