Chapter 5: Behind the Back, Between the Lines
The court was a rough patch of cracked concrete painted with faded lines. Metal chain-link hoops rattled in the stale underground air.
Spectators crowded in along the sideline, teenagers, drifters, off-shift workers, leaning on broken benches, eating soy-paste snacks, waiting for drama.
The ball went up. Half-court. Ten-minute cap. Street rules.
Rico’s crew started with possession. They wasted no time.
A quick jab step, a fake step to the side to make Nash flinch, then Rico pulled up for a midrange shot.
The ball arced high and dropped clean through the rim. Nothing but net.
Next play, one of his boys darted past Sarra with a sharp crossover, a quick dribble move that shifted directions fast.
She stumbled trying to keep up. He drove to the hoop, laid it in gently off the backboard.
2-0.
Another possession. Rico’s third guy slipped behind Taz, who had taken his eye off him.
A backdoor cut, sliding toward the hoop from behind the defense. Rico hit him with a perfect bounce pass. Layup. 3-0.
The crowd started talking.