Chapter 21
July 17, 2017.
“I need to see some identification, sir.”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
“No. ID, please.”
After winning the summer league championship, Tavon was dragged by Jahlil Okafor and Ben Simmons to celebrate at a strip club. Alas, their celebration has come to a delay as they have been stopped by the bouncer in front of the door.
“I’m Ben Simmons. Don’t you recognize me? I’ve come here several times before,” the 6’9” Australian said as he towered over the 5’6” bouncer. “Now would you let me and my friends go inside?”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell. Even if I did know who you are, I would still have to see an ID to verify. Sorry but that’s club policy.”
“Here-”
Jahlil took out his ID to show to the bouncer but was stopped by Ben.
“You don’t have to do that, bro. I got this.”
Rookie mistake. Surely this event will be used for debating whether Ben Simmons will be considered a rookie, which would make him eligible for Rookie of the Year, or not. Sorry, Donovan Mitchell.
“If you don’t let me or my friends inside, I’m going to talk to your manager,” Simmons threatens, pointing his finger right at the bouncer’s face.
“Alright, alright. You don’t have to do that. You’re Ben Simmons, right? Hang on.” The bouncer sighs and takes out his phone to search up Simmons. “You’re a basketball player, huh?”
“Hell yeah, I am.”
“Prove it to me right now. Any of you got a paper I can borrow?”
“I got this letter from a fan-”
The bouncer snatches the fan letter from Tavon’s hand and crumples it to a ball. He then picks up the trash can that was next to the door and places it five away from where Ben Simmons is standing.
“If you can shoot this paper ball and make it into that trash can, I will let you guys in,” the bouncer states his conditions to Ben while placing the paper ball in his hands.
“I have to shoot a jumper?”
“Uh, yeah. Basketball players shoot basketballs into a hoop for a living. Now go.”
Simmons trembles as he looks down on the paper ball he has in his hands. The trash can is nowhere in range for him to do a layup. He must do a jump shot, his worst enemy. He could pretend that he was doing a free throw instead, but he is not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed if he failed all his classes at LSU.
“Brudda, you got this. This ain’t nothing.”
“I want to smother my face in tiddies.”
With cheers coming from Jahlil and Tavon, the pressure increased for Simmons. This was more nerve-wrecking for the former number one pick than taking the last shot in a Game 7 to win the NBA Finals. To him, women were more valuable than rings. He does not live by the “bros before hoes” moniker. Anyone can clearly see that a man like Ben Simmons would fall for a Kardashian in the future. Seeing the distance between himself and the trash can, Simmons fainted. Everyone outside the club looked in disbelief. What a rookie.
“Are you gonna beat this nigga up so we can get inside?” Tavon looked over at Jahlil and asked.
“Nah, this isn’t Boston.”
----
Failing to get into the club, Tavon headed back to the hotel to relax for the rest of the night. As he was reaching for his key card, two men in black suits approached him.
“May I help you?” Tavon asks the suits while taking out his key card from his pocket.
“The boss would like to see you,” one of the suits said in a monotone voice.
“Who?”
Tavon inserts the key card into the lock and opened the door to his room.
“Look, I’m not trying to buy any thing that you’re selling. If this is about some endorsement or whatever, can we discuss this tomorrow morning or some other time? I’m really tired, man. You understand, right?”
The suits looked at each other and nodded at each, proceeding to remove the wigs and to expose their shiny, smooth scalps. Tavon briefly glances before fully looking at the men when he noticed that they were both bald.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
Tavon darted in the opposite direction of the suits and made a right turn at the hallway. Nearing the end of the hallway, he spots a few more bald men coming out of the elevators and shifted direction toward the stairs. Tavon reached the ground floor and ran outside of the hotel, only to be met by a dozen of bald men surrounding the vicinity.
Tavon shook his head at what he was seeing in front of him. “Nahhhhhhh. I ain’t letting this shit happen to me.”
He futilely attempted to run again, only to trip on a stray dog that was looking for food. As he was being tied up and thrown into the back of a limousine, Tavon could only shake his head. Once again, Tavon lost to bald people.
Inside the back of the limousine was his angel partner Haziel and a stern looking old man with a scar around his right eye.
The old man removes his shades. “Hello, Tavon Cash.”
“Um, hello.” Tavon stared Haziel, guessing that this mess they’re in is totally his stupid partner’s fault. Tavon sighed and looked back at the old man. “So what did this idiot do?”
“You must be mistaken. I think the real idiot is you,” the old man laughed heartily.
Tavon looked perplexed as he notices Haziel sulking in guilt.
“This man bet your entire rookie contract on a horse race and lost. Now that I own your contract, you will be working for me now.”
“Huh?”
“Did I stutter?”
Unamused, Tavon turned over at Haziel. “YOU WHAT?!”
“I had a good feeling that True Secret would win.”
“BUT WHY DID YOU BET WITH MY CONTRACT?!”
“I WAS CONFIDENT, OKAY?! HE WAS HEAVILY FAVORED TO WIN!”
The old man cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt your two’s bickering, but I’m a busy man. I will make this quick. Mr. Cash, you will continue doing your business playing for the Sixers as if we never met, but all of your earnings will be sent to me.”
“And what if I don’t?”
The old man takes out a revolver from his inside pocket and shoots Tavon in the lower right leg. Tavon cried in agony as he held his right leg.
“Buggers, I wanted to aim a littler higher. Surely I won’t miss my next shot.”
“How am I gonna play now?! You just shot me!”
“Not my problem.”
“And how am I gonna provide for myself if I won’t get any money from my contract?!”
“Not my problem either.”
Tavon slouched and sighed. “At least I still have my shoe contract.”
“Actually…”
“What did you do…”
Haziel laughs in guilt as he looks up at Tavon. “You see…”
“I bet that on a game of poker.”
“And you lost?”
“Yes.”
Tavon facepalmed and lets out a big sigh. All his hard-earned money gone before he even played an official NBA game because a stupid angel gambled it away. He tried to lunge at the old man but was held back by Haziel.
“Let go!”
“My friend understands the terms. He shall follow them entirely whenever you give them.”
“Very well. We’ll end out meeting here. Next time we will speak is when you receive your first paycheck. Don’t even dare try to run away from me, Tavon Cash. I got eyes on you everywhere.”
Tavon and Haziel were let out of the car in miles outside of the city limit of Las Vegas. Haziel healed the gunshot wound on Tavon’s leg as soon as the gang leader’s car was out of sight.
“What’s up with that?” Tavon asked bitterly. “Couldn’t you just kill them off with some angelic power?”
Haziel stood silently.
“Hey, talk to me.”
“I can’t tell you yet,” Haziel quietly replied.
“What you say? I couldn’t hear that.”
“You’ll understand later. For now…just bear with it. We can get the money back.”
“Huh? What the fuck does that mean-”
Haziel shoved Tavon onto the road as impending traffic was approaching. This was how Tavon Cash became the most broke number one pick in NBA history before even playing a regular season game.