Somebody recognized me at the strip club. It shouldn't have come as a surprise since I frequently ran into people all over town who knew me somehow. Awhile ago while I was at the local supermarket, the cashier (whom I had never seen in my life) referred to me as "Coach" just as I whipped out my box of Trojans to pay for them. It turned out that she had been to some of my team's basketball games. She was a student at the college. I joked that the condoms weren't mine. On this occasion, unfortunately, I couldn't front about the obvious.
While Raven and I were talking, I noticed somebody from across the room pointing at me. My heart sank. I couldn't make out the face since I wasn't wearing glasses. I wanted to run. After Raven left to smoke outside, the apparition came closer. I was anxious. The dark figure was one of my former recruits, Gucci, who happened to be with a former student of mine (Scarface). I wasn't even aware that they knew each other. Scarface was hysterical. He didn't expect to see me at the strip club, nor was he going to buy that I just came by to "talk" to an intelligent stripper.
Scarface: (laughing) What are you doing here, man?
Me: I'm just having a drink.
Scarface: (laughing harder now) Ssssure. You here to see some ass and titties!
I hadn't seen Scarface in awhile. He was a troubled student whom I had met years before at a therapeutic school during my two year stint with an agency. I didn't get a chance to catch up with him, though. "Gucci", my former recruit, seemed eager to talk. The last time I saw Gucci, he was sitting on the bench at the 4-year college he had transferred to in street clothes. Since he was a few credits short, Gucci had to take a couple of classes in order to become eligible.
I never got to coach Gucci even though he was enrolled at the college for a few years. This man could literally fly. He was 22 years old when I made my pitch to him. At 6'5, he was a very poor man's Kevin Garnett. In our league, he would have easily dropped 20 a night given his athleticism.
I tried my hardest to get him on the team, but he was always caught up with something. Gucci was a drug dealer. Apparently, he was doing some major hustlin'. Once upon a time he was riding around town in a car with Gucci seats. A month after I talked to Gucci the first time about playing for me, I ran into him at a nightclub. I asked him why he disappeared after our conversation. It turned out that he had been stabbed (almost fatally) during an altercation a couple of weeks after we spoke. He even showed me his battle wounds to prove it. On this night (years later) at the strip club, I was happy to hear that things were going better for him.
Me: How you been? Long time!
Gucci: I'm good, Coach. What you doin' up in here? Hahaha. Never thought I'd see you in here!
Me: (cough) I'm just chillin, man. Just havin a drink.
Gucci: Yeh okay. Around all these naked women. (punches my shoulder) Hahaha. If you want some real ass you need to hit up Providence. Them strippers are for real.
Me: What you mean?
Gucci: These girls ain't about it. That's why I don't spend my money on em. In Providence, them chicks be fuckin. $150 and you're gettin' some ass.
Me: Enh. That ain't my thing, but how you been? You still in school?
Gucci: Yeh, as a matter of fact. I'm about to finish up my Bachelor's degree.
Me: Good! I'm happy to hear that. Why didn't you play there, though? Weren't you like three credits short.
Gucci: Man, some stupid shit happened.
Me: What?
Gucci: I paid this chick money to pass a course for me and she fuckin failed it. Stupid bitch!
YIKES!!!!!
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