“Hey John, you’re friends with a lot of the league, right?” Kelly Oubre asked his teammate John Wall as they changed into their street clothes.
“Sort of,” John answered suspiciously, giving a sidelong glance to Kelly. “Why you asking?”
“Oh, no reason,” Kelly replied. He paused for a bit, tying the laces on his stylish black boots before continuing. “I was just sort of wondering if maybe you had any contact information for Klay Thompson or anything.”
John halted the process of closing the clasps on his peacoat and looked his teammate in the face. “I know what you’re getting at, so even if I did have Klay’s number, you sure as hell wouldn’t be getting it.”
Kelly put on a scandalized look. “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but I don’t like it.”
“You gotta work on your subtlety man. Everybody in this locker room knows that your number one goal in life is to find out where Klay Thompson lives and then beat the crap out of him like that would solve all your life problems or something. You’ve got all these creepy serial killer notes hanging up in your locker that pretty much say exactly that.”
Kelly glanced around mildly at his locker, which was almost wallpapered with drawings and notes describing his hatred of Klay Thompson. “It really hurts my feelings when you make these unfounded accusations, John. If there are any bad feelings between Klay and myself, I would only want to repair our relationship, not damage it further through use of my fists.”
“Whatever,” John said, finishing up his coat and preparing to leave the locker room. “Good luck on your vengeance quest.”
“Do you know if Brad has Klay’s info?” Kelly asked hopefully.
“No idea,” John said. “But if I knew anybody who did, you would be absolutely the last person to find out. I don’t want his blood on my hands.”
Kelly wanted to ask more, but John was already walking out the door. Disappointed at his lack of success, he pulled out his phone and went to Klay’s personal Facebook profile, a page which had comprised over half of his total web browsing over the past few weeks. There was a new picture of Klay in his house with his dog. Kelly squinted at it, trying to make out any details that would give away the home’s location.
His left hand, as of its own accord, balled itself into a fist and trembled dangerously.