“Listen, man,” Kevin said, sipping a gigantic slurpee. “You can do whatever you want, and I’ll respect you and want whats best for you. Kevin Love — is about the Love. But shouldn’t you talk to him? I mean you won a championship together.”
“He’s made it clear how he feels, Kevin,” Kyrie Irving said. “His corny IG posts couldn’t be any clearer. In fact, I unfollowed him, just this morning.”
“You unfollowed him? But Kyrie! His filters are so choice!”
“What’s done is done, Kevin.”
“Kyrie… he’s the greatest player of all time. I know what it’s like to be young, and talented, and just want what you deserve, but listen – he’s earned a lot of respect too. More than either of us are ever likely to get. And what goes around comes around.”
Kyrie scoffed. “Round, Kevin? Like the globe?”
Kevin sighed. “Just give him a call, Kyrie. At least part as friends.”
“Well alright, but I’m not going to kiss his a**. Hey, where’d you get that giant slurpee?”
“Oh it’s that day where they’ll fill up whatever receptacle you bring in. I had them fill up a Gatorade cooler. I’m just using a big gulp cup so I look more normal.”
“It’s uh…working.”
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“Hey LeBron, it’s Kyrie.”
“Man, what do you want?”
“I just want to talk. Do you have time this week?”
“I’m pretty busy…”
“Listen, just come over to the house. My chef will make us a great dinner. Things shouldn’t end like this.”
“Alright man, I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not bringing anything!”
“That’s fine?”
“Every dang time I go over to someone else’s house, I have to buy a bottle of wine so I don’t look rude! I don’t even like wine! It’s ridiculous!”
“We…. We have wine, LeBron. Or, beer, or whatever. Sprite. Although, I’d never tell you to have a Sprite.”
“Just so long as that’s understood.”
“Listen LeBron, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how things happened. It’s not you.”
“Kinda sounds like it’s me, bro.”
“No listen — it’s alright, it’s a little bit because of you but it’s not what you think.”
“How do you mean?”
“I love you, man. You’re the greatest player of all time. All I ever wanted was to be like you. But I think you don’t even know how much power you have! Every time you ask for a new coach, they give you a new coach. Every time you want someone signed, they get signed. Since the day you got here it feels like we haven’t gone one week without making a major change. I’m sure it’s for the best, but do you know how confusing it is for the rest of us? When Kyle Korver first got here, I thought he was a towel boy!”
“So you’re saying, I shouldn’t be trying to make the team better?”
“No! I’m just saying that I want a little stability. Even if it’s for a worse team. And if we can’t both have what we want, then I should just get out of your way.”
LeBron sighed, and took a deep, thoughtful sip of wine. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt that way? We could have worked it out.”
Kyrie smiled a crooked smile. “Who am I to tell the great LeBron James how to use his power?”
“Hmmm…”
LeBron stood up from the table and paced a minute, with that preternatural grace so unusual in someone of his size.
“Well,” he said, “I guess maybe we both misunderstood each other a little. I guess that…wait a minute. What’s that?” LeBron gestured at the wall.
“What’s what?”
“THAT,” he said, reaching over to grab a fringed purple scarf, slung over a hook. “Is that my scarf? Have you been stealing my clothing?”
“What? No, I…”
“That is my scarf. You thief! That’s just how it is for you, isn’t it Kyrie? You steal my glory for yourself and think you’re the one who makes it look good. That’s you all over, isn’t it.”
“LeBron, no!”
“This is over, Kyrie! Have a nice life!”
The door slammed. Kyrie stood in his enormous, silent mansion, thoughtful and alone.
LeBron’s phone buzzed again. He ignored it.
“Who keeps calling, ‘Bron?” Chris Paul said, looking up from his pool cue.
“Oh, it’s just Kyrie. Ignore it.”
“You know what he wants?”
“Who cares what he wants, Chris? That back-stabbing scarf stealer….”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just take your turn.”
The phone buzzed again. LeBron angrily turned it off.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
“I’ll go get it, Chris. Don’t cheat! I have a photographic memory.”
“I’d never cheat, Bron. You’re thinking of Cliff.”
LeBron opened the door. Kyrie was standing outside, in new falling snow, holding what looked like a pack of cardboard signs.
“Kyrie, what the heck are you…”
Kyrie held up a sign. It read, in bold letters, I DIDN’T STEAL YOUR SCARF.
“What? Then why do you…”
He held up the second sign. YOU GAVE IT TO ME.
“No I didn’t! Also, you could just…speak out loud. This is ridiculous.”
Kyrie held up another sign.
IT WAS AFTER THE CHRISTMAS DAY GAME, OUR FIRST YEAR TOGETHER.
“I don’t want to have a conversation with a bunch of signs, Kyrie.”
I SAID I WAS FREEZING.
YOU SAID MAYBE OUT HERE, BUT ON THE BASKETBALL COURT YOU’RE ALWAYS HOT.
THEN YOU GAVE ME YOUR SCARF.
WHAT YOU SAID MEANT SO MUCH TO ME.
“How many of these signs do you have, exactly?”
I WAS REALLY YOUNG AND TRYING TO FIND MY WAY.
IF THE BEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD THOUGHT I WAS A GOOD SHOOTER…
MAYBE I REALLY WAS.
I KEPT THE SCARF AS A REMINDER OF THAT DAY.
TO ME YOU ARE PERF… Kyrie stopped. “Wait, how’d that one get in here?”
For a long moment, the two said nothing. Then, suddenly, they embraced.
Outside, in the darkness, Kevin Love stood, drinking month old slurpee out of a thermos. He smiled, and wiped away a tear.