“This isn’t gonna work. At all.”
J.J. Hickson was standing in front of the mirror in the locker room, alternating his gaze between his own reflection and the picture of LaMarcus Aldridge that was up on his phone. “Our faces are totally different. There’s no way that I trick Neil into thinking I’m LaMarcus.”
“I told you, Neil’s not in his right mind when he starts thinking about LaMarcus,” Damian explained, not for the first time. “He gets into a suggestible state where it’s possible to mold the warped version of reality that he’s created in his mind.”
“The way you describe their relationship makes it sound creepy and disturbing,” J.J. said, rubbing the cheeks where his beard had been just ten minutes ago. It had been shaved off since LaMarcus had never sported as bushy a beard as J.J. had cultivated.
“That’s because it is creepy and disturbing,” Damian replied. “But you like being back in the NBA, don’t you?”
A week prior, Damian had somehow convinced Neil that they were signing LaMarcus Aldridge, even when LaMarcus was clearly still under contract with the Spurs, and even when all the paperwork said “J.J. Hickson” on it. You could get Neil to agree to anything if he thought it would bring him closer to being reunited with his “beloved” LaMarcus. The fact that the fake LaMarcus would be capable of putting up roughly similar statlines in a roughly similar fashion would help to complete the flimsy illusion, in case Neil was watching the Blazers’ games closely enough to scrutinize “LaMarcus”‘s playing style.
J.J. sighed. “Yeah. I do. So whenever Neil’s around, I’ll pretend to be LaMarcus.”
“And when you’re on the court, you’ll shoot a lot of midrange jumpers,” Damian reminded. “I already told Neil you’re a bit rusty coming out of retirement, so if you miss most of them it’ll be fine. Except for us losing, of course.”
J.J. paused his mirror-gazing to turn around and look at Damian. “Is there a reason you’re prioritizing this dude’s sanity over the success of the team?”
Damian thought for a moment. “I guess…I don’t want him to realize that LaMarcus is really gone, because then he might switch his affections to me.”
J.J. turned back to the mirror. “Real comforting, man.”
—
Damian Lillard walked into the locker room after a hard-fought win. As he walked up to his locker, he noticed Neil sitting in a chair off to the side. The Blazers’ general manager was frowning at a piece of paper. Feeling apprehensive, Damian leaned over and saw that it was the statsheet from that day’s game.
“I don’t see LaMarcus on here,” Neil said. “But I’m sure he played. I watched him and him only for every second he was on the court.”
“Ah, just a typo I guess,” Damian said, snatching the statsheet away and giving it a cursory glance. “Because LaMarcus is definitely on the team and it was definitely him out there on the court playing for us.”
“He was missing more shots than usual,” Neil noted.
Damian privately thought that NBA defense offered a lot fewer open looks than the defense in the Chinese league that J.J. was used to. “Still shaking off the rust,” he explained.
Just then, J.J. himself started to walking in. Upon realizing that Neil was there, he quickly retreated to throw on the “Aldridge” jersey that he kept as backup, then re-entered the room. “Hey Damian. Hey Neil.” The fact that he was wearing two jerseys was clearly apparent.
“Hey LaMarcus,” Damian said, feeling foolish for blatantly using the wrong name. At least he had briefed the rest of the team on their scheme so that his teammates wouldn’t think he was losing his mind. Neil, meanwhile, was staring at J.J. with wide eyes. Damian was afraid that this close-up look at somebody who was clearly not LaMarcus Aldridge would ruin the entire plan.
“LaMarcus…” Neil half-whispered. “Damian said you played for the Spurs, but I know that was a lie. I know you would never leave me for another GM.”
J.J. gave Damian an uneasy glance. “Yeah. Total lie. I’m a Blazer for life, man…uh, sir.”
“I love when you call me sir,” Neil breathed. “Say it again.”
“Sir.”
This exchange was making Damian feel extremely uncomfortable. He was starting to think that this entire plan to introduce J.J. Hickson as a surrogate LaMarcus Aldridge was a very bad idea. “LaMarcus is probably feeling a bit tired,” he said. “We should leave him alone and let him relax.”
“Nonsense,” Neil said, giving Damian a look that made it clear he thought the point guard was being an annoyance. “LaMarcus can relax in my room, like we used to do all those years ago. Remember that LaMarcus? Remember how much fun we had in my private office?”
“Yeah. Fun,” J.J. said. He looked mortified as Neil stood up, took him by the shoulder, and led him back out the locker room door. To Damian’s horror, a pink pair of handcuffs was dangling out of Neil’s back pocket.
“Better him than me,” Damian said to himself.