True Blue

CHAPTER 61

PSYCHO STOLE the ball from Roy by burying a shoulder in his gut and knocking him down before dunking and scoring the first point. He walked back over to Roy, who was slowly getting to his feet. Psycho kicked him hard in the shin.

“That’s one.”

“That was also a foul,” said Roy.

“Ain’t no fouls on this court. Just man to man.”

“Your ball.”

Roy had played against every competition imaginable both on the college basketball court and on the streets. Most guys had one signature move, the best two, the very best three. He let Psycho drive past him and score, taking an elbow shot to the thigh.

That was one move, Roy thought to himself.

Psycho scored again, using a different move.

That was two moves.

He glanced over at Mace, who was staring at him anxiously. He gave her a quick wink and then went back on defense, setting his butt low, his feet and hands spread wide.

Psycho drove again and scored using his first move. Or he would have if Roy hadn’t stuffed the ball so hard it knocked Psycho flat on his back on the asphalt.

“My ball,” said Roy as he snagged it and dribbled it back and forth between his legs without even looking down.

As Psycho started to guard him, Roy backed up and banked a twenty-footer.

“That’s one,” said Roy.

A minute later a reverse dunk and then a twenty-foot fader by Roy tied it.

“Three-three.”

Five minutes later, and despite Psycho fouling him brutally at every opportunity, Roy was up by six and his opponent was bent over clutching a stitch in his side while Roy wasn’t even sweating.

With a perfectly executed crossover dribble that had Psycho frantically backpedaling and then falling on his ass, Roy drove past him and slammed the shot home.

“That’s ten,” announced Roy. “One more to go.”

He took the ball and bounced it back and forth between his legs while he studied his staggered opponent. Psycho was humiliated, tired, and pissed. Roy could at least let the guy make it respectable.

Screw that.

He dribbled backward and stopped, set up, and nailed a twenty-five-footer. The ball didn’t even touch the metal rim as it dropped through.

The ball bounced on the asphalt and came to a stop against the post.

“That’s eleven. You lose. We walk.” He headed over to Mace.

Psycho lunged forward and grabbed a gun from one of his men. Breathing hard, he pointed it at Roy’s back.

Roy turned around. “Is there an issue?”

Wiping the sweat from his eyes Psycho said, “Where’d you learn to play ball like that?”

“On a court just like this.”

“You lied to me. You said you knew how to play just a little.”

“Everything’s relative. You might not be as good as you think you are.”

Psycho cocked the pistol’s hammer back.

Mace pulled free from the two men holding her and moved between Roy and the gun. “Everybody here heard you set the rules. He wins, we walk. Your words.”

Psycho eyed his crew and then looked back at Mace. The gun came down one inch at a time.

“Get your asses outta here. Now!”

“Just so we’re clear, this is not a cop thing. We’re with Social. We just came here to help Alisha get a better life, for her and her son. Don’t make her a part of this, because she’s not.”

Psycho said nothing. He strode off. His crew followed quickly.

When they were alone Mace turned to Roy. “That was unbelievably kickass.”

“Would it be really unmanly if I wet my pants right now?”

“I wouldn’t think any less of you.”

“So what about Alisha and Tyler? Do you think he’ll leave them alone?”

“Call me stupid, but I don’t trust anyone whose name is Psycho. I’m going to have Beth get her and the kid out of here.”

“And her brother?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I suppose we can do some more interviews today,” he said doubtfully.

“I think they can wait. Let’s go back to Abe’s.”

“Is he home?”

Mace used her sleeve to wipe the blood off Roy’s face. “I don’t care if he is or not. I need to get my little hero cleaned up.”

She took his hand and led him back to the Honda.

No one bothered them on the way out.