And the time-out ended and Derek Harper poked away the inbound and found Blackman on an ESP pass, who sank a long two. Smooth.

“Cady! Let’s go . . .”

Two minutes left. Houston down by seven—not over—and fucking Todd Bloom was beckoning from the aisle.

“Come on!”

They couldn’t argue over the crowd noise. Sleepy Floyd for the quick layup . . . blocked by Tarpley! Everyone went bananas. MacLeod kept him out there for crunch time, and Sam Perkins looked like he was okay with it, fanning the parquet with his towel like it was on fire.

“We’re leaving your asses if you don’t come now.”

Fine. They shoved past everyone in their row and headed into the tunnel as Aguirre hit a dagger three and the arena detonated. Another time-out and cue “Celebration.” But Todd Bloom had them scurrying like rats out the back gate. Dan grabbed Cady’s hand again, trying to make the best of a bad exodus.

Todd Bloom dumped Dan on the curb of Crown Shore Drive. There had been no chances for fireworks at the end of the date—which was kind of a relief—just a dull ride back to North Dallas with Lang Dudek picking his nose in the passenger seat. Nonetheless Cady had nuzzled into Dan and they shared sugary and assured smiles. Safely on to the next date, he thought.

Dan walked up the moonlit blue driveway, pulled the extra key from under a rock hidden in the Ligustrum, and crept in the door. It was past eleven, and the front of the house was dark and still. He turned down the hallway toward his room, noticing a light under the bathroom door. Crap. The problem with holding hands in the second half: no bathroom breaks, and he needed to go now. Dan got ready for bed, stripping to his boxers. He cued his Dylan tape to “Mr. Tambourine Man” and waited to hear the bathroom open up. A long minute went by. Dan checked the hallway. The door to his parents’ bedroom was closed, but the back-room TV was on, muted. The couch had a bed pillow and sheet on it but wasn’t pulled out. Another minute and the silence from the bathroom was broken by the sound of the toilet seat falling. Dan really had to go. He stepped to the bathroom door and knocked lightly.

“Dad?”

“Occupied.” His father’s voice sounded like he was gargling.

“I got to go, Dad.”

“Is it just you, Dan?”

“Yes.”

“Go to bed, honey,” he slurred.