Foul Trouble by John Feinstein

Author:John Feinstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2013-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Terrell was about to tell Coach Hathaway he was exhausted when, as if reading his mind again, the coach announced that it was time for Terrell to get some sleep, since he had to wake up early to have breakfast with his “future teammates.”

Terrell hoped no one noticed his sigh of relief. They all got up, and both Stewart Jenkins and Brandi hugged him to say good night. When Brandi looked up at him and said, “Oh my, you certainly are tall,” Terrell was convinced he was in a bad movie.

“Hope you had fun,” Coach Hathaway said when they were back in the car.

“Oh yeah, it was great, Coach,” he said. “The food was fantastic.”

Coach Hathaway gave him a sideways glance as if trying to read his face in the darkened car. “I’m sorry if Brandi came on a little strong,” he said. “There are a lot of good-looking women in Atlanta who love our team.”

Terrell wasn’t sure how to answer that—so he didn’t. A couple of minutes later they pulled into the Ritz-Carlton, Buckhead, which was where Terrell would be spending the night. UCLA had put him up at the Four Seasons in LA, so the trappings of the five-star hotel weren’t new to him. Still, having everyone in the place say, “Hello, Coach Hathaway,” as they walked to the front desk was impressive.

“I’ll leave you with Tony,” Coach Hathaway said once Terrell had been given a room key and a bellman had come to take his one and only bag from him. “Just follow him. He’ll take care of you.” As Tony started in the direction of the elevator, Coach Hathaway leaned closer to him and said, “Don’t worry about the tip. It’s taken care of.” Terrell was glad to hear that.

Tony jabbered on about all the stars he’d “gotten to know” while working at the Ritz as the elevator took them upstairs. “They got you a suite,” he said, putting the key in the door. “You must be a big-timer. Most of our recruits just get regular rooms.”

Our recruits? Terrell thought. He wondered if Tony used that line on everyone who the U of A—as everyone in town called the school—put up at the hotel. Actually, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to be alone so he could get some sleep.

The phone rang at 7:00 a.m. Terrell had been dreaming that a dozen women who all looked like Brandi were chasing him down a hallway. He rolled over and answered it, and a cheerful voice reminded him he was being picked up in the lobby at 7:30.

Right, he remembered. Breakfast with his future teammates.

Two of them were waiting for him when he got downstairs, still blinking sleep from his eyes even after a lengthy shower. Both wore black-and-red Athena sweat suits, and he knew who they were right away: DeMarcus Suliman, the sophomore shooting guard, and James Tennyson, the junior center. Every story he’d read about the U of A indicated that one or both wanted to turn pro at the end of the season, so their status as “future teammates” was questionable.

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