“Come on Brandon, get going, we gotta play,” O.J. Mayo said, stopping to look at his teammate, who had halted in the door frame.
“Dude, I can’t go out there. Kaytee’s gonna be courtside. I can’t let her see me,” Brandon responded in a somewhat panicked voice. “There’s gotta be some other way to get to the bench.”
O.J. rolled his eyes. “Come on man, you already missed shootaround. Don’t be a wimp. The only way is through the tunnel, and besides, Kaytee probably doesn’t even remember you leaving all kinds of creepy comments on her Facebook timeline.”
Reminded anew of the embarrassment that he had brought upon himself, all by “liking” a picture of Bucks cheerleader Kaytee in a bikini, Brandon groaned. “She probably thinks I’m the most depraved sicko ever. I can’t help it that she’s always posting hot selfies. Any guy would want to e-stalk that.”
“Nobody ever said it was your fault,” O.J. pointed out. “She didn’t even unfriend you. You’re a millionaire, man, and you’re packing some huge guns. She’s probably wishing it was you she was banging when she’s gettin’ down with Miroslav.”
Brandon glared. “O.J., do you always have to be such a god damned asshole?”
Putting his hands up, signalling an unwillingness to be confrontational, O.J responded, “Dude, it was a compliment. Now get your butt moving or you’re gonna get us both in trouble.” Reluctantly, Brandon followed his fellow Buck out of the locker room. Walking over to where the rest of his teammates were engaging in various pregame rituals, Brandon steadfastly avoided looking at the dance team’s center-court performance.
“Hey Brandon!” yelled Aymee, another cheerleader. “Kaytee wants to get in your pants!”
“Oh my god Aymee, I so don’t!” came what Brandon presumed to be Kaytee’s voice. “He’s such a creep!”
O.J cringed and patted Brandon on the back, but this feeble consolation did nothing to hinder the tears that now formed in Brandon’s eyes. “You hear that man? She thinks I’m a creep, just like I said.” For the first time in his life, he didn’t even want to play basketball. Every molecule of his body screamed at him to go home and crawl into bed, never to face such ridicule again.
“Yo dude, don’t get too ups-”
Brandon interrupted O.J.’s further attempts to console him. “You think the GM will trade me if I ask?”
Pausing for a moment, O.J. responded, “No. But you’ve got the upper hand here. You just gotta get with some of the other cheerleaders, and when Kaytee realizes what a hot piece of stud sandwich you are, she’ll probably be DTF faster than Ersan burns in the sun.”
Smiling a watery smile, Brandon nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. If there’s one thing women want more than anything, it’s the thing that’s already taken.”