Chapter 8
Darius looked towards the door of the hospital room when it opened and wasn’t quite sure what he felt when he saw Dr. Sinclair step inside. He was desperate for information on the outcome of the operation he woke up from not long before, but at the same time knew there was a forty percent chance it could be the worst news of his life. It was sending his emotions on a rollercoaster ride that he was struggling to control, and the impassive expression on the doctor’s face gave no clues as to whether the surgery was a success or a failure.
“Well?” he asked.
“The results look promising,” Dr. Sinclair replied when he walked to the side of the bed. “It would appear you’ve made it into the sixty percent club.”
Darius put a hand over his eyes as the burst of relief swept through him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry, and in the end he just remained silent as he worked to get a grip on himself. His heartbeat was hammering and he inhaled long, slow breaths to try and calm down before dropping his hand away from his face.
“What does that mean in reality?” he asked.
“It means a tough period of rehabilitation for you,” Dr. Sinclair said. “The success of the surgery is just one small step in a long road to recovery and it’s now up to you.”
He grabbed the bedcovers to ease them to the bottom of the bed and Darius looked at the metal braces on his legs.
“How long do they have to stay on?”
“Until the broken bones are properly healed,” Dr. Sinclair replied. “So around eight to ten weeks probably, but we’ll keep assessing it to make a final decision and get them off as soon as we can.”
Eight to ten weeks seemed an eternity to Darius, but he would just have to live with it. He watched as the doctor sat on the edge of the bed and ran a fingertip along his right shin.
“I can feel that,” he said.
“Good,” Dr. Sinclair replied. “What about your left leg?”
Darius felt the slight tickling sensation again when a finger stroked along his other shin.
“Yeah, I can feel that too.”
“Can you flex your thighs?” Dr. Sinclair.
Darius tried and the smile spread across his face when he saw the slight movement of the muscles. It felt extremely weak, but the fact that he could do it at all was something when compared to his experience of the previous day. He remembered getting no response when he tried to move his legs and the hopeless sense of anguish that came over him. Now there was a growing sense of elation that his dreams might not be over.
“Excellent,” Dr. Sinclair said as he watched. “I think you’re definitely going to be one of the success stories for my surgery. It seems like it was money well spent on you.”
The last comment got Darius thinking.
“How much does the operation cost?” he asked.
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Dr. Sinclair said. “The payments have been made already, so all you have to concern yourself with is getting better now.”
The news came as a surprise to Darius and he blurted out the question straight away.
“Who paid?”
“I’m not at liberty to divulge that information,” the doctor went on as he stood up. “My job is just to get you on your feet again.”
“But…” Darius started to say as his curiosity grew, but he was interrupted.
“You need to concentrate on getting yourself well,” Dr. Sinclair said in a firm voice. “The surgery might have been a success, but it doesn’t mean your recovery will be easy. The physiotherapy will be intense and you’ll need to show a lot of commitment to regain your strength.”
Darius could tell from the determination in the other man’s voice that he wasn’t going to get any information, so he gave up asking, although he still intended to find out who it was that paid for the surgery. That could wait, though, and he just listened as the doctor went on speaking.
“The other part of your treatment is the medication,” Dr. Sinclair said and brought a small vial of clear liquid from the pocket of his white coat. “One of the problems we’ve noted from the surgery is that the repaired limbs can be somewhat weaker to begin with and that exercise and strengthening work is not sufficient in itself to combat this. Increasing the oxygen carrying capabilities of your blood is also needed, and this is done through synthetic means.”
“That medicine does it?” Darius asked and nodded towards the small glass container.
“This is Erythropoietin,” Dr. Sinclair said. “It’s also know as EPO and it has the desired effect of increasing the red blood cells, which in turn does the job of more efficiently carrying the oxygen around your body. In effect it makes you stronger and improves your aerobic capacity.”
“How do I take it?” Darius asked.
“It’s injected,” Dr. Sinclair said. “You’ll need to take it once a day to gain the benefits. We can do that for you while you’re here, but you’ll need to get used to doing it yourself in the long term.”
Dr. Sinclair moved to a small cabinet at the side of the room and picked up a sterile syringe. He removed it from the packaging and drew the contents of the vial into it. Moving to the side of the bed, he injected Darius in the upper arm and threw the used syringe away when he was finished.
“I have to do this every day?” Darius asked.
“As I told you before,” Dr. Sinclair answered. “Our observations and studies of previous patients are ongoing and for the moment we’ve found that they cannot come off the medication without suffering complications. For the moment you will just need to accept that the medication is part of your life until such times we can find a way around its use.”
“But you might never find one.”
“That is a possibility,” Dr. Sinclair said. “Just get some rest now. I’ll come around later to see how you’re getting on.”
Darius nodded his head and watched as the doctor walked out of the room. The relief swept over him that he wasn’t going to spend his life paralyzed and he set his mind to recovering from his injuries as quickly as he could. The stupidity of his actions played on his mind and he couldn’t subdue the fear that he’d ruined his chances of achieving his basketball dreams. There would be no way of knowing that for sure until he was on his feet again and playing, but it was going to be a few months before that happened.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but it proved difficult to do and his thoughts swung from joy at the surgery being successful to despair that his hopes and dreams of basketball stardom might have gone up in smoke. The mystery of who paid for the surgery also played on his mind until the tiredness finally caught up with him. His eyelids drooped as he managed to clear his mind and relax, with sleep eventually claiming him.
The room was dark when he woke up a few hours later, but something told Darius that he wasn’t alone. The drowsiness evaporated in an instant, but his first glance around showed no signs of anyone. It didn’t take away the creeping sensation that someone was there.
“Hello,” he said. “Is that you, Dr. Sinclair?”
He peered through the darkness at the sight of the figure getting up from the chair in the corner of the room.
“Relax son.”
Darius half recognized the voice, but couldn’t quite place it at first. It was only when the overhead light flickered to life that he caught sight of who was in the room and the name came to him straight away.
“Mr. Carmichael,” he said as a confused expression crossed his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d look after you,” the older man said and walked right to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“OK, I guess,” Darius replied.
There was suddenly no doubt as to who his benefactor was; he knew it was the basketball promoter that paid for his treatment. It didn’t mean he understood why.
“That’s good to hear,” Mr. Carmichael went on. “I don’t want to lose my investment in you.”
Darius stared at the man standing o
ver him and couldn’t hold in the question that was puzzling him.
“Why did you pay for the surgery?”
Mr. Carmichael perched himself on the edge of the bed as he went on.
“You have a special talent for basketball. It would be terrible if it went to waste, and I wasn’t just about to sit by and watch that happen.”
“But you don’t owe me anything,” Darius replied. “I mean, we only met once.”
“Once was enough for me,” Mr. Carmichael said. “You were head and shoulders above the best college players around. It was obvious for anyone to see at that exhibition game.”
“But the accident,” Darius let out. “My legs are…”
“Your legs will heal,” Mr. Carmichael cut in. “Dr. Sinclair has assured me of that. The chances are that your body will be stronger than ever.”
Darius frowned at the comment. It seemed strange considering he was lying in a hospital bed with damaged legs.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Mr. Carmichael got to his feet and said nothing at first as he walked around the bed to the opposite side.
“What do you know about blood doping?” he asked.
Darius stared up at the ceiling as he considered the question and the vague memory of the term being attributed to cyclists and some athletes in other sports came in his head.
“Isn’t it some form of cheating to gain an edge over the competition?” he queried.
“That’s generally how it’s put across to the public,” Mr. Carmichael said. “Most sporting authorities have deemed it an illegal activity, since it is considered a way that sportsmen and women can enhance their performance.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Darius asked.
“Well, one of the methods of blood doping is by injecting Erythropoietin, which is also known as EPO.”
Darius recognized the name of the drug he needed to take as part of his treatment.
“Wait a minute,” he commented as he considered the implications of what he was hearing. “You’re telling me the medication I’ve been prescribed as part of my recovery is a substance on the banned list for athletes?”
“Yes, I am,” Mr. Carmichael said and smiled.
“But… but, that means I’m talking an illegal substance that would get a player banned from playing basketball professionally.”
“In most cases that’s very true,” Mr. Carmichael said. “But there is a loophole in that a sporting body cannot ban someone that is legitimately taking EPO for medical reasons… and you are. Dr. Sinclair will happily testify that the drug is an essential part of your treatment after the surgery and that you can’t do without it.”
“So I can take it and still play at a professional level?”
“That’s exactly what you can do,” Mr. Carmichael answered as he leaned forward. “You would be allowed to continue taking your medication and play at the highest level. That means the authorities wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about you using blood doping, and the sky’s the limit for you in that case.”
“Huh?” Darius let out.
“Think about it, son,” Mr. Carmichael went on and the enthusiasm in his voice grew. “You have a natural talent for basketball that very few can match, and that puts you well ahead of the curve to begin with. Everyone saw that at the exhibition game. On top of that ability, you are free to use a technique that has been shown to make athletes fitter, stronger and more capable of winning. Combine those two things and it produces a basketball player that can run faster, jump higher and stay the course longer than the opposition. It would give you an edge that would make you unstoppable on the court. I’m counting on it to take us all the way to the top of the NBA, and that’s why I paid for your surgery.”
Darius pointedly glanced down in the direction of his damaged legs before bringing his gaze up and raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner.
“And how exactly are you going to get a team interested in me?”
“I already have,” Mr. Carmichael went on and a broad smile spread across his face. “You’d be playing for my team.”
“Your team!” Darius exclaimed. “What are you talking about? I thought you worked as a promoter and player representative.”
“Not any more,” Mr. Carmichael carried on. “I’m planning a move into team ownership. I’ve been considering it for a while, but the right opportunity hasn’t come along… until now.”
“You’ve got a franchise?” Darius asked.
“Damn right I do,” Mr. Carmichael answered. “I’ve been given the go ahead to set up a team in Las Vegas for the upcoming season, and you’re going to be the main man that makes it a success.”
“What’s the name?” Darius asked.
He could barely believe what he was listening to, but Mr. Carmichael seemed to be serious in his intentions. It meant his ambitions to play professionally were on the verge of being fulfilled if he could make a full recovery from his injuries, and he could really sense the elation taking hold.
“The Las Vegas Jackalopes.”
“My family and friends aren’t going to believe this when I tell them,” Darius went on.
He sensed the mood change of the other man the second he finished the sentence and there was a deathly quiet in the room for a few seconds.
“This is a professional venture that I can’t afford to fail,” Mr. Carmichael said after a few seconds. “I’ve invested too much in you to have that happen.”
Darius knew that more was about to be said, but the lengthening silence unnerved him to the point where he needed to fill it.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I need to have your full commitment… without any distractions,” Mr. Carmichael said. “If you want a contract to play for my team in the NBA, then you’ll need to leave your old life behind and I mean every aspect of that.”
“I can’t see my family and friends?” Darius let out in a surprised voice.
“That would be part of the deal,” Mr. Carmichael replied.
“But…” Darius started.
“It’s non-negotiable,” the older man jumped in.
“I can’t just cut off all contact with my family,” Darius protested.
He saw the gaze come to his and it didn’t look friendly at first before Mr. Carmichael forced a smile onto his face as he spoke.
“I think you can,” he said. “I mean, I’m not sure your family and friends would be very happy with the alternative… and neither would you.”
The flicker of dread registered in Darius’s mind and he knew that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear, but all he could do was ask the question.
“What alternative?”
“I can’t speak from experience,” Mr. Carmichael said in a quiet voice. “But I would expect that a jail sentence is not an easy thing to endure. It could easily ruin a young man’s ambitions for life.”
Darius pressed his head down on the pillow and didn’t really need to ask any more. He closed his eyes as the other man went on.
“Robbing a store… car theft… joyriding… damaging property… leaving the scene of an accident,” Mr. Carmichael said to list off the crimes that Darius was involved in. “That’s a lot of illegal activity for just one night. I’ve no idea how much jail time you’d serve for those crimes if the police were to find out, but it could mount up.”
“How did you find out?” Darius asked.
“Does it matter?” Mr. Carmichael answered. “All you have to worry about is that I do know everything about how you ended up in here and I’m sure the police would investigate if they got an anonymous tip off that led them to you.”
Darius instinctively knew that the threat was real and would be carried out if he didn’t play ball. That left him in a position where there was really no option but to go along with every aspect of what was being offered. Being blackmailed into it wasn’t how he envisaged himself getting a chance to play professional basketball, but it was definitely what was hap
pening.
“This isn’t right,” he said.
“Look at it this way,” Mr. Carmichael replied. “What’s your dream been since you were a little kid?”
“To make it in the NBA,” Darius replied in a sullen voice.
“Well, I’m giving you a shot at that and all I want is a few things in return to protect my investment. I don’t want you having any distractions that get in the way of my plans. Is that so much to ask for?”
“But my family,” Darius let out.
“I’m your family now,” Mr. Carmichael said harshly. “Just accept that and we’ll take the NBA by storm. If you fight it… well, you know the consequences and you can watch me conquer the basketball world from a prison cell. Make up your mind which you want and let me know.”
Darius closed his eyes as the thoughts raged through his mind, but there really was only one answer he could give.
“NBA,” he let out quietly.
“What?” Mr. Carmichael asked.
“NBA,” Darius repeated in a louder voice.
A smile broke out on the older man’s face.
“I knew you would see things my way,” he said. “I’ll have the contract prepared by my lawyers for you to sign. All you need to do is concentrate on getting yourself out of that bed and onto a basketball court. We need you playing as soon as possible and getting yourself ready for the new season.”
“Sure,” Darius mumbled.
The conflicting emotions were tearing into him, but he knew that he was doing the only thing he could. There was guilt at the fact he was giving up his family and friends for basketball, but even that couldn’t quite dispel the buzz of knowing that he was going to play as a professional.
“They never believed in you anyway,” he muttered as he thought of Gemini and his parents.
“What was that?” Mr. Carmichael asked.
“Nothing,” Darius said as he watched the other man walk to the door of the room.
“Get some rest,” Mr. Carmichael said before walking out.
He moved along to the end of the corridor and over to the person at the vending machine when he turned the corner.
“So… what happened?” Phaedra asked as a smile crossed her face.
“What do you think?” Mr. Carmichael said. “He’s not exactly in a position to refuse the offer I made him after all the information you gave me.”
“You didn’t tell him it was me, did you?”
“No,” he replied. “I’ve kept you out of it.”
“Good,” Phaedra said. “What did he say about not being allowed to contact his family?”
“He wasn’t happy about it,” Mr. Carmichael said. “But what choice does he have? I made it clear to him that prison is the alternative. Do you know if anyone from his family has come looking for him?”
“Not his family,” Phaedra replied. “But his girlfriend was here and spoke to the receptionists.”
“That got her nothing then, I take it,” Mr. Carmichael said.
“Your bribe to keep things quiet worked,” Phaedra replied. “I watched the whole thing as she came in, spoke to the receptionist then left after she was apparently told that Darius wasn’t here.”
“Money well spent then,” Mr. Carmichael said. “We’ve got him isolated, so let’s keep it that way. When will you go to see him?”
“Oh, there’s no rush,” Phaedra said. “I’ve waited long enough for this, so a few more weeks won’t matter. I’ll keep you informed of when I’m going to make my move.”
“You’re a bad girl, Phaedra Walker,” Mr. Carmichael said and laughed.
“Yeah, it’s just as well for you that I am,” she replied. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have known about Darius’s accident.”
“I’ve thanked you enough for that phone call,” he said with a grin. “I’m not about to do it again.”
He walked off in the direction of the elevators and Phaedra watched him go. She then turned to the vending machine to buy herself a can of juice before sitting on one of the chairs opposite it. Darius was now there for the taking and she didn’t intend to miss out on the ride that might very well take him all the way to being a major star in the NBA. All she needed to do now was bide her time and concoct a plausible story, so she could inveigle her way into his life and join him on the climb to the top.
It was going to get her a man, money and everything else she wanted from life.