And later this week, he had a date with Elle.

Well, it was hardly a date.

More like a plan to fuck.

But that was okay. He loved fucking her, and if fucking her was the way to win the heart that he wanted badly, he’d be up to the challenge.

* * *

“No one was there.” Marcus blew out a long stream of air.

“So you try again another time,” Elle said, trying to cheer him up as she untied her roller skates while chatting with Marcus on the phone.

“I guess so,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Look, just because he wasn’t there this morning doesn’t mean he won’t be the next time. Besides, who’s at their house anymore these days?” she said with a laugh. She’d just finished her workout at the rink, and over at the arcade, Alex hammered the joystick in what looked like a furious game of Frogger. “It’ll probably take a few tries before you find them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he answered, sounding a touch more hopeful.

She smiled as she tugged off her skates, glad that her words were giving Marcus some kind of courage. “So just go again until you do it. Life is all about risks, right?”

“Risks,” he said, as if he were letting the word marinate. “Right. Risks.”

As she finished the call, she dropped her skates into her bag then joined her son for a round of Frogger, soundly schooling him in the arcade game she’d aced at this very rink back in high school. “It is so much easier to crush you in games at the roller rink than on the Xbox,” Elle said, pumping a fist in victory when her frog successfully evaded more cars, trucks, and traffic than her son’s.

“As if your retro games even count,” he said with a smirk.

“Hey! I didn’t see you complaining about my retro games during practice. You were glued to the screen.”

He shrugged. “I pretended to like it.”

She answered him with a noogie. “What do you say to you, me, fries, and a shake?”

“Mix in a burger and you’re on, T,” he said, calling her by her roller derby name. Only the “T” stood for more than just her alias – it was her word to live by.

“It’s a deal.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The basketball arced through the air, swirling once, then twice, around the rim and dropping with a whoosh into the basket.

“No fucking way!”

Rex stared at the ball in amazement as it bounced on the concrete of the court.

Colin held his arms out wide as he stood on the free-throw line. I told you so. “Angle. It’s all angle.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” the boy said, his big eyes rounder than ever. He’d been doubting Colin, all right. Rex was one of the teens who played in the rec center basketball league. He grabbed the ball and held it as if he were weighing it, then he narrowed his eyes at Colin. “Is this like Playoff Gate all over again?”

Colin laughed and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “I assure you, I did not deflate the basketball. But if I did, I would tell you that no matter what the PSI, I’d still have a greater chance at landing a free throw if I had my arms at this angle,” he said, demonstrating a wider placement of his arms, “than at this angle.” He returned to a tighter alignment. “And I can tell you, too, that if you’re behind the free throw line, you need a smaller angle to make the shot, and if you’re dribbling…” He began moving down the court, while Rex picked up his pace to stay with him. “And you pass the ball to get away from a defender, passing it at a nice straight angle gives you better odds of keeping the ball on your team. Like this.” Colin tossed it neatly to Rex, who snatched the ball and lifted it above his head.

“Smaller angle,” Colin said, correcting him, and Rex made a quick adjustment then watched the ball sail into the net.

“Holy shit,” the teen said as the ball bounced on the court. Rex’s younger brother, Tyler, had joined them, watching from the sidelines, and looked less impressed.

Rex marched over to Colin and slapped his palm. “I still don’t believe you, but a deal is a deal is a deal. You get to tutor me now in business math.”

Colin beamed. For the last year he’d been coaching the rec league and tutoring the teens at the center in business math as part of his personal decision to devote more time to service. He’d lost out on a big deal a year ago, and had felt the first inklings of the familiar urge to bury his frustrations in liquor. Rather than give in, he’d refocused his energies, pouring his time into others. That had helped him fight the good fight and stay on the straight and narrow path.

“It’s all math, man. Everything is math,” he said, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it in place. “You will use math in every fucking area of your life. Chance of hitting a free throw from one-third of the way up the court? Math. Chance of landing a slam-dunk? Math. How much money do I need to pay my bills? Math. Is it worth missing class to sleep in? Comes down to math.”

“What he’s saying is—math is everything,” Tyler said.

“What? You’re on his team now?” Rex said jokingly to his brother.

“Listen to Tyler. He knows what he’s talking about,” Colin said. A few years younger, Rex’s brother dabbled in basketball, but his asthma slowed him down.

“And this is the shit you do for a living?”

Colin took aim at the net and watched the ball soar. “See, I’m not some natural basketball player. I only learned how to hold my own on the court by applying math to the way I play. And yes—this is the shit I do for a living. Every day. Evaluate risk. Study balance sheets. Look at profit and loss statements. And take a gamble as to whether some new technology for phones, or TVs, or gaming, or whatever, is going to change the world.” The ball slinked neatly through the basket. He tossed it to Rex, who took his shot.

“How much green did you bring home last year?” Rex asked.

Colin laughed, shaking his head, as the younger man landed a shot.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No. I’m not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that’s well ahead of the stock market, and it’s also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go. Plus, one of the early seed startups I invested in five years ago went public, and my firm netted a beautiful profit from that sale. A thirty times return.”

Rex’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs, and Colin chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies,” he explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn’t know what he wanted to major in, and Colin was hoping he’d lean toward business. He had some innate interest in it. He just needed a push to see the value in the long term.

“But that’s your goal, right?” he asked.

“You got it. Find the diamond in the rough. Bet big on it before anyone else does. Grow it and watch it turn into a money tree.”

Rex waved his arms enthusiastically. “Oh man, I want a money tree. I want a big, fat money tree that grows greenbacks all year round. Ty, let’s go grow us a money tree.”

“Yeah, right, in the concrete pit at our crappy apartment complex,” Tyler said with a snort from his spot on the sidelines.

“Hey! Watch it. We’ll move up someday.” Rex turned back at Colin and pointed his thumb at Tyler. “I gotta look out for him. Mom’s working too many jobs. She’s never around.”

“That’s why she makes sure you’re here instead of wandering the streets,” Colin said, passing the ball to Rex. “And if you study business, you’ll have a hell of a better shot at growing a money tree than you would by chasing after some get-rich-quick scheme. Invest, nurture, grow, make more. That’s what I do. That’s my job. That’s my passion.” He held out his arm, showing the tattoo there. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.