Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.
Iron Vault Arena.
The Roares' home court smelled of fresh wax and sweat. Ryan took his first real steps onto the home hardwood—last time, he'd only been shuffled through the press room for his introductory conference.
Alone at the far basket, he drilled threes while Jamal filmed. Eddie's idea, of course. Pre-approved. The footage would be chopped, polished, and uploaded to every one of Ryan's social accounts by afternoon.
Ryan sank two threes in a row. The third clanked off the rim.
He paused, then walked toward Jamal.
"Cut that last one. Keep the two that went in."
Jamal nodded, tucking the phone away. "Thanks, man."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
Jamal smiled, a little stunned. "You changed my life, bro. I swear. I never imagined I'd be filming here, on an Roares court. And last night, the Sky Lounge? Dude, that place was packed with celebrities—I even saw that one singer…"
