Page 6 of The Saint

“Man, he ain’t got no girlfriend. Dude’s gonna die a fuckin’ virgin and never get laid.”

“Fuckin’ monk, this one,” murmured Jermaine, and I gave a crooked smile before grabbing the ball and shooting for the hoop.

My chest pulled tight, but the ball fell in, nothing but net.

Finally, fucking finally, the guys started to play. Dion and Reggie grabbed for the ball. Jamal gripped Gil by the arms, pushing him out of the way. With the kid taken care of, I turned, ready to run once again into the fray. But Jamal grabbed my arm, a grimace on his face.

“Speaking of girlfriends.”

Jamal, Jermaine, Dion... Fuck, all of them were looking toward the other side of the court. I turned, anticipation and dread slicking through my veins until my eyes caught on the figure they were all gawking at.

A little old lady stood in the shade of one of the towering trees at the edge of the courts, her purple t-shirt proclaiming her the best grandma in the world. Other than the adult diaper she was wearing, the black compression socks pulled up to her knees were the only thing covering her bottom half.

Someone whistled, a quiet, half-hearted catcall, before the sound of a hand slapping sweaty skin rang out. From beside me, Gil asked, “Is that your girlfriend?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I took off at a run. “Mrs. T!”

Footsteps pounded behind me, across the court and into the grass where the old lady stood. I ripped my shirt over my head, shaking it out as I came to her side.

“What are you doing here, Mrs. T?” I asked, wrapping my shirt around her waist. The old woman smiled when Tyrone stopped beside me, oblivious to his hands covering the other half of her waist with his own shirt.

“You’re such a good boy, Tyler,” the woman said, reaching for Tyrone’s cheek and giving it a pinch. “You know Grandma loves you, don’t you?”

“Love you, too, Grandma,” he said, playing along, though tossing a concerned glance my way.

“What are you doing out here, Mrs. T?”

She turned her light brown eyes my way, blinking a few times before focusing on my face. “Why, I came to watch Tyler’s football game. I’ve been looking all day and can’t find the stands. Would you help an old woman out?”

“Football?” one of the guys behind me mumbled. “This is Central Park. Ain’t no football games here.”

Ignoring the grumbled agreements at my back, I put a hand on her shoulder. “There’s no game today, Mrs. T. It got rescheduled.”

“It did?” She looked up at me, light eyes clearing just a little. “I must have forgotten.”

“It’s okay,” I soothed, tossing a glance back at Tyrone.

He shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. With a jerk of his chin, he told me, “Go on. You know you don’t gotta ask.”

“Thanks, man.” I smiled down at Mrs. T. “Why don’t we get you back home?”

As she nodded her head and squeezed my arm, the grumbling behind me grew louder.

“What about the game?”

“You’re just gonna leave?”

“The hell, man?”

Tyrone grabbed Gil by the shoulders, turning on the guys. “We still gotta game. We’re just making a little substitution so Saint Rolly can do what he does best.”

A mixture of confusion and elation flashed across Gil’s young face, his gaze jumping between me and Tyrone as a smile danced across his lips. Tyrone raised a brow at me, driving his point home.

Saint Rolly.

It was an inside joke, something only he and Jamal ever said. But I’d never let it bother me before, and I wasn’t about to start now. Mrs. T was disoriented; she needed my help. And now, Gil’s day had just been made.

For them, I would sacrifice.