The Baller Read online Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
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“What’s not to be happy about? I’m damn good looking, got a weapon for an arm, and you work for me, not the other way around. Life is fucking stupendous.”

He shook his head. “Must be contagious. Haven’t seen Marlene in this cheery a mood in years either.”

“She should be. Eighty-one today. You didn’t look that good when you were her age.”

Grouper grumbled something.

“Where is the birthday girl? Day room?”

“I think her visitor took her back to her room a little while ago.”

“Visitor?”

“The one who was here a few days ago is back again. Brought Marlene a present, too.”

“What are you talking about? No one visits Marlene, except me.”

Grouper shrugged. “Thought you knew. Pretty girl with the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They wouldn’t have let her past security if she wasn’t on the approved list.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The biggest big blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I tore ass toward Marlene’s room. By the time I reached the door, my heart was beating like it was the first week of practice and I’d just run five miles in full pads.

Hearing her voice, I froze. Willow had moved from the Deep South to New York when she was ten, but she always kept a hint of her accent. The way she strung her words together was almost lyrical. It was something I’d always loved about her. I could lie with my head in her lap for hours, listening to her babble about all the things she wanted to see someday. But in that moment, as I stood on the other side of the door, the sound was worse than nails scraping down a blackboard.

I should have taken a moment to tamp down the anger boiling up within me, but I didn’t. I pushed the door open. Willow was sitting on Marlene’s bed, her back to me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

At the sound of my voice, her head whipped around. Her naturally doe-eyed blues grew even wider.

Neither of us said a word. My chest burned. Swallowing acid would have been less painful than what looking at her again did to me after all these years.

Grouper must have heard me or sensed that something wasn’t right, because he was suddenly beside me. He took one look at my face, then at Willow, and squeezed between me and the doorway to get inside of the room.

“Okay, Birthday Girl. It’s time for physical therapy.” It was only one o’clock; physical therapy wasn’t until four. Luckily, most days, Marlene had no sense of time. Grouper maneuvered her wheelchair over and immediately began sitting her up in the bed. He wasn’t in bad shape, but I knew from experience it wasn’t easy getting her in and out of the chair. Typically a nurse and a porter did it together.

Ignoring the self-preservation that was keeping me standing in the hallway, I walked to the bed and lifted Marlene, setting her gently into her chair. She looked up at me. “Brody. I didn’t hear you come in. Did you come with Willow?”

I responded with a lie on autopilot, the same way I had been for years. “We came in separate cars today.”

She nodded. Grouper unlatched the lock on the chair and began to turn her toward the door. “Wait!” She held up her hand. “I need my teeth.”

I kissed Marlene’s forehead. “You have them in.”

She did the usual check, raising her hand and tapping her nail on her front tooth. What was it with those things? She never trusted that I was telling the truth about her teeth, yet she happily accepted the thousands of lies I’d been feeding her about her granddaughter for years. Sometimes we believe things not because we know they are true, but because the lies are easier to accept.

Grouper nodded to me as he wheeled Marlene from the room, clicking the door closed behind him.

I stared out the window for a long time. There was so much I wanted to yell at Willow, yet it was all knotted up in my throat, clogging the words. Eventually, she was the one who spoke.

“How have you been?” she asked in a soft voice.

I let out a sardonic laugh. “Just fucking great.” This shit was not happening. I turned to face her, leveling a death stare. “What do you want here, Willow?”

“What do you mean? I came to see my grandmother.”

“It’s been four goddamn years. Why now?”

She looked down at her wringing hands. “I missed her.”

“Bullshit. What do you need? Money?” I took my wallet out of my pocket and pulled the wad of cash from it, throwing at her on the bed. “I’ll save you the trouble of stealing it. Take it. And fucking leave. We’re fine without you.”

“You’ve been coming to see her every week all these years. I saw it on the visitor sign-in sheet.”


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