Page 66 of Playing to Win
“Did your mom just say tookus?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“That’s awesome!”
Kyle and Trevin walked over to where his family and friends were congregated around his big screen. “We’ve saved the chair of honor for you, big guy,” his dad said, pointing at Kyle’s recliner. Kyle walked over to where Callie was standing, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
“Kyle! What are you doing?” she screeched. “Put me down!”
He plopped down in his chair and pulled her onto his lap. “Curly, if a miracle happens and I do get this award, the first thing I want to do is plant a kiss right on these beautiful lips of yours,” he said, touching his index finger to her lips, eliciting a gasp from her. “Does that sound like a good plan?”
“Kyyy-llle…” she said, drawing out his name. “We’re in front of your entire family. And your friends. And my friends.”
“Ask me if I care, Curly.”
“Hey, guys! Be quiet. They’re about to announce the winner!” Trevin said, shushing everyone.
“On behalf of the NBA and Kia, I would like to announce the finalists of the NBA’s MVP award,” the presenter said. “The winner will be presented with the Maurice Podoloff Trophy tomorrow afternoon at two p.m. central on ESPN. As it happens every year, a panel of one hundred and twenty-nine sportswriters and broadcasters in the United States and Canada, as well as online voters via the KIA MVP fan vote on NBA.com, assign points to each finalist, with first place being worth the most at one hundred points. The totals are added together to come up with the winner. Tonight, I’m happy to say that the winner of the 2015 NBA MVP award, with one thousand, one hundred and ninety-seven points, is Kyle Kelly.”
At the announcement of his name, Kyle’s apartment went wild. Jamal jumped on his couch and started pumping his fists, channeling the guys on Jersey Shore. His cats, Garth and Trisha, bolted out from under the couch where they were hiding from the noise, to run to a safer haven. Trevin was shooting finger guns Kyle’s way, mouthing, “Told ya, told ya, told ya.” All his sisters were in a circle, holding hands, screeching and jumping up and down, blowing their party blowers. Kyle’s parents were…making out? Okay, then. Odd way to celebrate their son and his achievements, but he could go with it.
Callie’s friendswere in the corner of the room, watching in amusement as everyone else went crazy. But Kyle…well, Kyle couldn’t care less about the award. He only had eyes for one person. And she was sitting on his lap, staring at him with big hazel eyes and a smile that could charm the stars from the sky.
“Well, Dimples. Looks like you are the best player in the league. Told ya.”
“I couldn’t care less about that award.”
Callie swatted him on the arm. “Kyle! That’s a huge honor!”
“You’re right. It is. And I am very honored. I truly am. But I only care about one thing right now.”
“And what’s that?”
Kyle grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. “Doing this.” He worked his way to her eyelids, kissing both of them, the tip of her nose, and her lips gently before looking her in the eyes. “Thank you, Callie.”
“For what?”
“For agreeing to hang out with me. It was the best decision of my life.”
“You didn’t make it, silly.”
“But I convinced you to. And now I have the prettiest girl in the world sitting on my lap. Who needs a trophy when I have that?”
“Hey, lover boy! Wanna get that hottie off your lap and come kick it with your buddies who are celebratin’ your victory over here like any normal NBA player would do when they found out they won the MVP award?”
Kyle looked over to see Trevin and Jamal wearing not only the cone-shaped hats and star-shaped glasses, but they also had on the t-shirts with Kyle emblazoned on the front.
“Guys! Not you, too! You went over to the dark side!”
“What can we say, man? Your sisters are very persuasive,” Jamal said, jiggling the party blower in his mouth Kyle’s way. “Now, you gonna join your party or not?”
“Duty calls, big boy,” Callie said, moving off his lap and pulling him out of the chair. “Go celebrate with your homies.”
“Homies?”
“Or whatever the cool lingo is now between all you professional athletes. Besides, I gotta get me a t-shirt before one of your sisters sells them all on eBay.”
