“What’s his name?” Eric said.
“Darnell.”
“Younger or older?”
Kellen hesitated for just a beat, and his eyes flicked sideways before he said, “Younger. Three years younger,” in a voice that was softer than it had been.
They watched as the ball found its way to Darnell Cage. He took a kick-out behind the three-point line on a fast break, shot-faked and then drove to the foul line and put up a floater that caught the back of the rim and bounced long.
“Come on, D, come on,” Kellen said. “Give that ball up. Had the cutter.”
The teams went back and forth without Cage touching the ball. Then the Lakers scored and Minnesota ran a post set that didn’t generate anything, threw it back out, and worked it around the perimeter. There were eight seconds left on the shot clock when the ball came to Darnell Cage on the left baseline, and Kellen laughed. It was a low, almost devious sound.
“Oh, they in trouble now,” he said.
Darnell Cage faced up to his defender, ball held back on his hip, leaning forward.
“Crossover coming,” Kellen said.
Darnell Cage gave a slight shoulder fake, then put the ball on the floor, moving left before shifting to the right, the defender sliding with him, not fooled by the fake. Then came the crossover, a wickedly fast between-the-legs dribble back to his left hand, and Darnell Cage blew down the rest of the baseline in about two strides before going into the air and finishing with a tremendous one-handed dunk that brought the home crowd to its feet.
“Wow,” Eric said.
Kellen was grinning. “He owns that left baseline, man. Owns it. He’s a lefty, and you can give him some trouble if you force him to the right, but if he gets you off balance on that left baseline, you’re done. Just too damn fast. He gets you rocked at all, then there’s nothing to do but watch.”
Kellen had turned to look at Eric but now his eyes drifted higher and his brow furrowed and he said, “You got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“You want to meet a relative of Campbell Bradford? My Campbell? He’s standing back there by the pool table. This is the cat who threw the bottle at me. Josiah.”
Eric turned and found himself staring into the dark eyes of a guy with shaggy brown hair and a black polo shirt who was standing beside the pool table, watching them.
“Appears he remembers you as well,” Eric said.
“Uh-huh. I don’t think I’ll ask him any more questions about the family tree.”
“I can’t believe he’s here.”
“Small town,” Kellen said. “Not many bars.”
But he didn’t seem confident about it.
“Well, there you go,” Kellen said, turning back to the TV. “There’s my brother, the family talent.”
“You got one in the NBA and another getting a doctorate?” Eric said. “What are the rest of your siblings, astronauts?”
Kellen laughed. “Just the two of us.”
There was someone beside them at the bar now, standing close and staring at Kellen. Josiah Bradford. He didn’t so much as glance at Eric, and Kellen seemed well aware of his presence but did not turn to face him, choosing instead to continue to watch the game. After a while, Josiah Bradford reached across the bar and grabbed the remote and hit a button. It exasperated him when nothing happened.
“Becky, I want this channel changed,” he hollered. “And bring me a Budweiser.”
“Those guys are watching the game,” she responded without looking back. “Come down here, change this one.”
The man dropped his eyes to Kellen. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“How you doing, Josiah?” Kellen said, finally looking at him. “Been a while.”
The guy didn’t respond, just stood there staring into Kellen’s eyes. Becky seemed to sense the building tension when she set his Budweiser down and came over to talk to Kellen and Eric as if to diffuse it.
“You hear about the old guy whose wife makes him stop drinking, won’t let him go up to his favorite neighborhood pub anymore?” she said.
“Can I get that channel changed?” Josiah said. “These boys don’t mind at all.”
“In a minute, maybe,” Becky said, not even glancing at him as she continued with her joke. “Well, the wife keeps him from drinking, but she has to go out of town for a few days, visit her sister. Leaves him with clear instructions—you don’t even think about going to the pub, buddy.”
“I wouldn’t last long with a woman like that,” Josiah said, and then he turned away from the bar. When he did it, his shoulder collided with Kellen’s. Hard. Too hard for accidental contact.