Tutoring the Alpha

Chapter Twenty-Six: For Whom the Bell Tolls

**WARNING: possible triggers in the following chapter -- if that is not for you, do not read this chapter. regardless, proceed with caution**

Mickey's POV

            I stumbled into the locker room, angrily wiping at the tears running down my cheeks as I threw my bag down on the ground and let out a furious roar of frustration. My fingers were pulling at my hair, my pulse racing, but I knew I wasn't going to shift. I was feeling too many emotions to shift, too many human emotions. Anger. Betrayal. Resentment. Despair. Love. I was trying to register the fact that Benny was going to prison for fifteen years, that the girl I loved was now sitting in a state prison, drugged up and lost to me forever. I would be 37 years old by the time Benny would be eligible for probation; by then my basketball career would surely be over. Benny was going to miss out on my entire life, her entire life, our entire life together.

Like blowing away a patch of dust, my hopes and dreams of our future were demolished. No use in proposing now, I thought, picturing the ring I'd bought that was currently sitting in the drawer of my bedside table at the pack house. No more 'graduating together'. No more 'getting married'. No more 'having kids'. Benny would never even know that the Los Angeles Lakers wanted me to play for them. And the worst thing was that even with all of my power as an Alpha, there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it.

"Hey Lafitte, I heard about your girl. I'm sorry, man."

I lifted my head from my hands in surprise, easily recognizing Coach Powell's voice as he stepped into the locker room.

"Whatever," I mumbled, rubbing at my face vigorously so he wouldn't know I'd been crying. Powell came over to sit on the bench beside me, patting me on the knee and handing me a small package without a word.

"I know you're young and it feels like your entire world is falling apart, but it's not. You'll see."

"How do you know that?" I cried, throwing down the package and jumping to my feet angrily. I wasn't in the mood to deal with Powell's wise old man bullshit, but that didn't stop him from continuing. I paced back and forth across the locker room, occasionally stopping to hit against one of the lockers or kick around someone's shoes.

"Because I was young once too. And I had a girl, just like you, who I was crazy in love with. So in love that I turned down the opportunity to play professional ball overseas because she wanted to start a family."

"So what? Family sounds pretty good to me. I'd kill to have that option right now."

"You know where my girl is now? Livin' in Miami, married to some other baller who plays for the Heat. She left me when I quit doing the thing I loved, because it turned me into someone I'm not."

"What's your point?" I grumbled, looking up at Powell as he stood up and came over to grab me by the shoulders. His bald head was shining in the glow from the overhead light, his dark eyes wide and intensely focused on mine. Powell, who I thought of almost like a father, was worried about me, I realized.

"My point is that just because you lost your girl doesn't mean you lost yourself. Open the package, Mickey." And with that, he patted me on the back one last time and left.

When he was gone, I slowly walked over to pick up the package where I'd tossed it on the floor and picked it up. The front was emblazoned with the Los Angeles Lakers logo, and in the center, my name in big black letters. Michael Lafitte. My fingers shook from the suspense as I quickly tore open the paper and let the contents slide out onto my lap. Two letters, on expensive thick stationary, and something bulky wrapped in plastic. I picked up the first letter, my eyes scanning over the words with breathless anxiety.