“Hey Clint, we need you to do a huge favor for us.”
Clint looked up from his phone to see Trevor Ariza, James Harden, and Gerald Green standing in front of him. All of them wore identical looks of determination on their faces. “Uh, sure. Maybe. What’s up?”
“Trevor here says that he knows of a secret back entrance into the Clippers’ locker room,” James said. “We need you to go up to the main entry door and create a diversion while we slip in through the back.”
Having been vaguely aware of some bad blood brewing during their game with the Clippers, and again noting their looks of cold anger, Clint was reluctant to agree. “You guys aren’t going to to do anything stupid, are you?”
“We just want to chat,” Gerald supplied. “That’s all. Just a friendly chat. But the only way we can get in there is if you be our Trojan Horse.”
“They’ll be more afraid of you because you’re bigger,” Trevor added. “Their whole team will probably come running up to confront you when you show up.”
This explanation only made Clint’s hesitance grow. “I don’t know, guys…”
“A million dollars. Cash. Just do this one thing for us,” James said, visibly impatient with his taller teammate.
Clint sighed. “Fine. You want me to go over there now?”
“Yeah,” James replied, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “You’re the best. Come on guys, let’s go.” As they walked away, Clint thought he saw Gerald slip a crowbar underneath his game jersey and Trevor check the presence of something tucked in the side of his compression shorts.
Clint had been standing in front of the Clippers’ locker room door for a minute now, trying to steel his resolve. It was only the thought of a million-dollar payout that stopped him from just walking away. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and waited.
Montrezl Harrell was the one who opened it, and he opened it only enough to peek out and see who the visitor was. “Oh, it’s you,” he snarled. “We was expecting something like this.”
Clint realized then that he hadn’t been given any lines to say or even a hint of how to behave once he was greeted. “It’s not what you think, man. I just wanted, to, you know, apologize for all that stuff during the game. No hard feelings, alright?”
Montrezl’s eyes softened, but he was still suspicious. “That’s cool and all, but you sure this ain’t some kind of trick?”
All of a sudden, a loud commotion could be heard from further back in the locker room. Clint could very clearly hear James’ voice yell, “I’m coming for you, Austin!”, then, there was a jumble of yelling as Clippers players rushed towards the Rockets intruders. Montrezl vacated his post at the door, leaving the door open, but Clint had no urge to step inside and get himself involved. Instead, he stood and listened.
There were sounds of a struggle and some yelps of pain which caused Clint to wince. When he heard the sounds of wooden furniture splintering and what might have been a gunshot, he ran.