Chapter 3 - What Priorities Meant
Marcus did not deny it.
That almost made it worse.
Jordan stood across the kitchen island holding the screenshot while Marcus stared at him.
“You went through my phone?”
Jordan blinked.
“That’s your first sentence?”
“You had no right.”
Jordan laughed sharply.
“You told a national showcase I agreed to withdraw.”
“That does not give you permission to search my private messages.”
“My future was in your private messages.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“I made a financial decision.”
“For me.”
“As your father.”
“Without telling me.”
“You’re seventeen.”
“I’m the one playing!”
Marcus raised his voice.
“And I’m the one paying.”
The words hit harder than Marcus seemed to expect.
Both men went silent.
Jordan slowly lowered the phone.
Marcus exhaled.
“That came out wrong.”
“No.”
Jordan nodded.
“I think that came out exactly right.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Jordan, basketball costs money. Shoes, travel ball, camps, trainers. I’ve never complained.”
“You just secretly canceled the biggest opportunity I got.”
“It is not the biggest opportunity you’ll ever get.”
“How would you know?”
Jordan’s voice rose.
“You weren’t even at the biggest game I’ve played.”
Marcus flinched.
Jordan saw it.
Good, he thought.
Then hated himself for thinking it.
Marcus rubbed his jaw.
“The Atlanta trip was going to cost more than you think.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew how you’d react.”
Jordan stared.
“So you lied because telling me the truth would have been uncomfortable.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“It sounds exactly like what happened.”
The front door opened.
Keisha walked in carrying a grocery bag.
She froze when she saw them.
Jordan turned toward her.
“What priorities?”
Keisha’s expression changed.
Marcus spoke quickly.
“Jordan.”
“No.”
Jordan held up the screenshot.
“She texted you that you needed to stop spending money every time basketball ‘dangles something’ in front of me.”
Keisha put the bag down.
“That message wasn’t meant for you.”
Jordan laughed bitterly.
“Everybody keeps saying that about things that are about me.”
Keisha removed her coat.
“Fine.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Keisha.”
“No, Marcus. He wants an answer.”
She faced Jordan.
“We have been talking about building a future together.”
Jordan waited.
“What does that have to do with Atlanta?”
“Money is not unlimited.”
“My dad makes good money.”
“That doesn’t mean every dollar belongs to basketball.”
Jordan looked at Marcus.
“He told you what I make?”
Keisha’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not your enemy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re acting like it.”
Jordan shook his head.
“I’m asking why my dad lied.”
Keisha crossed her arms.
“Because sometimes parents have to make decisions children don’t understand.”
Jordan stared at her.
“You’re not my parent.”
Marcus stepped between them.
“That’s enough.”
Keisha looked offended.
Jordan’s voice lowered.
“No. She’s right. I don’t understand.”
He looked directly at Marcus.
“Explain it.”
Marcus remained silent.
Jordan pointed toward Keisha.
“What future?”
Marcus looked away.
Jordan’s stomach dropped.
“What future, Dad?”
Keisha exhaled impatiently.
“We’ve discussed moving in together permanently.”
Jordan glanced around the house.
Keisha spent four nights a week there already.
“That’s not new.”
“In a different house,” she said.
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
Jordan looked at him.
“You’re selling this house?”
“No decision has been made.”
“When were you gonna tell me?”
“Nothing is finalized.”
“When?”
“Jordan—”
“When?”
Marcus raised his voice.
“After graduation!”
The kitchen became silent.
Jordan’s face emptied.
His eighteenth birthday was in November.
Graduation was seven months away.
Marcus immediately softened.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jordan looked around the kitchen where he had eaten breakfast since elementary school.
The doorway still had pencil marks recording his height.
His mother’s old ceramic bowl remained above the cabinets.
The photograph of him and Marcus at his first basketball game still hung in the living room.
“You were gonna wait until I graduated.”
“We were exploring options.”
“And then what?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Keisha did.
“A place that works for all of us.”
Jordan looked at her.
“All of who?”
“Marcus, me, Darius—”
She stopped.
Too late.
Jordan nodded slowly.
“Right.”
Marcus’s face tightened.
“You would always have a room.”
“A room?”
Jordan laughed under his breath.
“In somebody else’s house?”
“It would be my house too.”
Jordan looked at him.
“Would it?”
Marcus said nothing.
Jordan turned toward Keisha.
“Was Atlanta money part of this?”
Keisha shook her head.
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
Marcus suddenly reached for the car keys.
“We are done with this conversation.”
Jordan stepped into his path.
“No.”
Marcus stared at him.
Jordan had never physically blocked his father before.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Jordan.”
“You don’t get to shut down every conversation right before the part where you have to answer.”
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“Move.”
Jordan stepped aside.
Marcus grabbed the keys.
Jordan looked down.
A small blue wristband was still looped around the key ring.
DARIUS GRANT — YOUTH LEAGUE ADMISSION.
The sight of it made Jordan’s chest tighten again.
Marcus walked toward the door.
Jordan spoke behind him.
“Did Darius know?”
Marcus stopped.
“Know what?”
“That you were missing my championship for him.”
Keisha answered.
“He was happy Marcus came.”
Jordan looked at her.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marcus opened the door.
Jordan’s phone buzzed.
A message from an unfamiliar number appeared.
Hey Jordan. This is Darius.
Jordan frowned.
Another message followed.
I think you should know I told your dad to go to your championship.
Jordan looked up sharply.
Marcus had already walked outside.
Keisha saw Jordan’s face.
“What?”
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Jordan showed her the message.
For the first time, Keisha had no answer.
