Color Blind (eBook)

A Love and Basketball Story

Aaron Storyz (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
380 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-8531-3 (ISBN)

Infos

When basketball player Julius Madonna moved from the Oaklands hood to Hollywood's biggest high school, he learns not all that glitters is gold. Everything changes when he meets Gianna, a smart and spoiled gymnast who helps him discover an unimaginable conspiracy against the future of the NBA. Twisted in a sticky web full of lies, gifts, betrayal, and deadly violence, Julius must find time for the two things he cherishes above all: love and basketball.

Aaron Storyz is an aspiring #1 New York Times bestselling author of romantic-suspense novels and the new messenger for the future. He was born in Portland, Oregon; grew up in gated communities; graduated from the hard knocks; and has worked in advertising, promoting, and customer service. These days he lives and writes in the Ontario mountains, where he can occasionally be seen learning and working.

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He's a bird. He's Jordan. No, he's Julius Madonna: the high school basketball phenomenon who invented the crossover. After his mother's blind-sighted engagement to a wealthy, white banker, their family's move from the Oaklands hood to Hollywood is sudden and life-changing. His new school, Hollywood High, is big, clean, and nice but he soon learns not all that glitters is gold. Unable to relate to the new students, the city of Angels becomes a private hell. Until he meets Gianna, a smart and spoiled color-blind gymnast. Their connection, chemistry, and curiosity are immediate. Together, they discover an unimaginable conspiracy against Julius. An organization is trying to capitalize early by seducing and grooming the future of the NBA. Julius and Gianna will do everything in their power to ruin the conspiracy. The number one ranked player in the world finds himself twisted in a sticky web full of lies, gifts, betrayal, and deadly violence. In the midst of it all, Julius must find time for the two things he cherishes above all: love and basketball.

Textauszug

Prologue

Oakland high school faced off with Berkeley high school in the state championships. North of a thousand spectators gathered around the bleachers on every side of the buffed parquet court inside Oakland High’s gymnasium, the arena hosting the state championship basketball game. Both teams were undefeated. One must lose. Both teams featured future NBA draft picks. Neither team was favored to win.

The spacious gym exuded a thick tension of high energy, anxiousness, and excitement. The court shined with a buffed gleam. The orange rims were dented, and the nets worn, colored a dingy white. Enthusiastic cheerleaders represented their schools in a chorus of chants while they launched into their hypnotic routines.

While the teams warmed up with light drills, the players tried to remain oblivious to the pressure of expected performances during this must win bout. The air was electrifying. In the crowd were teachers, classmates, family, girlfriends, coaches, and more importantly, college scouts. The star players would do their absolute best to impress scouts while coming away with an undefeated season, and championship trophies.

Number zero for Oakland High, a promising point guard, stole the crowd’s attention early on. He was able to capture the undivided attention from the audience because of his unusual warmup strategy. He showed off with a couple flashy dunks. His confidence soared from the oohs and awes coming from the stands. He loved the attention. If his warmup rhythm was a preview, then Berkley would not want to see this movie. He was in the zone.

As the game progressed, all eyes stayed on him. The fans cheered and socialized while watching the championship game unfold. The two teams were engaged in an intense battle. It was always a full house when these teams clashed. Number zero was unstoppable. He scored fourteen points in the first quarter, and sixteen in the second despite the opposing point guards smothering defense. He demonstrated a wide variety of skills in his repertoire. Which consisted of flaunting his streetball skills. He dazzled the crowd with his rainbow 3-pointers, devastating crossovers, an array of tricky assists, and delectable floaters over taller defenders. The gym was his playground. The stands erupted in praise, and the bench was animated. At half time Oakland led the game by twelve points. Number zero’s smile was on full blast.

His personal rhythm continued after the inspirational speech from their coach during half time in the locker room. The team’s chemistry and momentum resumed as well. The spectators continued to watch Number zero’s unforgettable performance unravel. He picked up where he left off. He was in the process of breaking records by putting up astronomical numbers on the stat sheet. He was a billboard of highlights with unstealable handles, high flying dunks, and flashy no-look passes that occasionally hit unaware teammate in the chest. He had more highlights than rebounds. The most remarkable one came in the last quarter, midway, Oakland up by five.

Running behind a set screen at the top of the key, the power forward passed him the ball. He caught it, the shooting guard dropped down to the paint, and instead of an easy assist, he tried another three. Berkley’s PG came out of nowhere, and before the ball left Number zero’s fingertips, Berkley’s PG reached for the block but ended up getting all arm instead of ball. The impact of their contact knocked Number zero down, and his shot air balled. No foul was called. Oakland’s coach yelled at the officials and earned a technical foul, and Berkely’s PG made it a single possession game with two free throws. Oakland’s bench complained, the crowd booed. Four minutes remained in the game. Number zero never lost his poise. His mind stayed on the next play. Too much was at stake to get riled up.

His resilience paid off. Starting down the court with the ball, he glanced at the game clock. As soon as Berkley’s PG got within reaching distance, Number zero broke him down with a stutter step as he rocked the ball side to side. He feinted to the left hard and stepped back behind the 3-point line. Berkley’s PG stumbled and by time he caught himself, Number zero drove to the basket hard and lobbed it to the center for a vicious dunk. The crowd roared. Before the crowd’s roaring could die out, he pretended to go down the court to play D, stopped on a dime and turned to steal the inbound pass. He intercepted the ball and raced over to the left wing. Behind the 3-point line he turned and lined up for a tough shot over Berkley’s six foot five center.

Every pair of eyes watched the ball’s high arc of rotation float toward the hoop. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Prayers went to God that the shot would come up short. The ball back spun threw the net without touching the rim. When Number zero landed, Berkley’s center gave him a shove to the floor in frustration. Again, the foul went unnoticed. Oakland fans protested.

Number zero jumped up without crying for a foul to the referees and did a slick little dance move when Berkley’s coach called an abrupt time out. He waved his arms to the crowd, requesting louder cheers. Which he received. He now had fifty-six points, six assists, five rebounds, five steals, no blocks, and an eight point lead with under three minutes remaining. Three minutes away from an undefeated season, and his first state championship. All he needed was three minutes without blowing the lead.

“Pause it,” a man told his partner. His partner stepped forward and pressed the VCRs pause button. The scene in Oakland froze in place. The scene in Los Angeles was back in motion. Three men occupied a posh sixth floor office overlooking downtown L.A. A nervous banker. A bookmaker, and a dangerous enforcer conducting orders from a consigliere. They knew how it ended. All three wore expensive tailored suits. Only the banker sat in a visitor’s armchair. The partners remained standing by preference. The nervous banker wondered why he was being forced to watch the high school basketball game. He did have an idea, but he would find out soon enough.

The bored bookmaker starts, “Great game wouldn’t you say? Did you bet on it?” He politely asks the nervous banker as he took a composition book from under his armpit. The banker shook his head, aware of the composition book and the bulges inside their suits. This visit was far from random. “No? too bad for you. Or maybe good. Who knows,” the bookmaker shrugged and tapped the composition book against his palm. The enforcer checked out a framed photo of the banker’s teenage daughter at her graduation. The silent threat didn’t go unnoticed.

The banker finally spoke up. “I’m pretty sure you guys didn’t take time out of your day to come talk ball game scores.”

The bookmaker grinned. “Of course. Let’s see,” he says, flipping open the composition book to a page saved by a bookmark. “Tell me if I got this right, okay?” The bookmaker pauses dramatically. “At our Santa Monica location you ended up gambling more than you should’ve. Blackjack according to this ledger. One of our guys gave you a loan at a high-interest rate so that you could continue your losing streak and still pay rent. According to this ledger you ‘borrowed’ ten grand, and our guy charged you two points. Which you agreed too. So that placed you at two hundred dollars a week in interest. Eight hundred a month. You still owe the ten grand and on top of that, you’re another twenty five thousand in debt for gambling on credit at our Culver City location. So far it’s been close to a year, so if my math is correct, you’re in debt ten grand in interest and you still owe ten grand on the loan. So twenty plus twenty five is… forty five. Sounds about right?” The bookmaker finished, after pretending to read the figures he had committed to memory.

“I paid five thousand just last week,” the banker complained in a whiney voice. He knows the organization he owed money to was dangerous. And he knew this was his last chance. The fear helped motivate him to lose his gambling addiction and start up a payment plan to pay off his debts. The alternative would not be pretty. No one ever looked pretty with a couple bullet holes in their head. He also knew this is how the mob primarily makes their money, by illegal gambling and loan sharking.

“My fault. I didn’t see that,” the bookmaker lied. The enforcer studied the plaques mounted on a wall. “So forty grand it is. And since we happen to be at a bank, and assuming you have access to that sum of money because you’re the branch manager, we would now like our payment in full please. We’ll wait.” The causal proposal in which it was requested underlined the subliminal threat that hung in the silence.

The banker paled at the audacity. The enforcer turns his empty gaze upon him. He felt as if a hundred ants are crawling up his back. He brushed his sweaty palms across his slacks and fixed his gaze on the skyscrapers outside the bay windows, racking his brain for a quick solution. He found none. It was his life or his job. Not really a tough choice to make. Squirming under their scrutiny he cursed under his breath.

“I’ll lose my job,” he mumbles, wondering if pleading would help his case. The partners waited patiently with expectant expressions. “I guess I’ll have to embezzle some funds to cover my expenses.” He says reluctantly, forming a plan to falsify...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 17.2.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-8531-3 / 9798350985313