After the tryout wrapped up, Link didn't drive off like the other players. He didn't have the extra cash for a taxi, either.
Link shouldered his worn-out gym bag and walked for almost twenty minutes, then hopped on a bus for a forty-minute ride, finally arriving back at his shared apartment in a run-down section of Los Angeles.
The seven-story building was pretty old, the paint was peeling in spots, and the elevator always sounded like it was about to rattle apart. But in a city like L.A., where real estate is ridiculously expensive, this was one of the few places Link could afford.
Link opened the door, and the faint, familiar smell of cheap pizza and stale beer hit him.
"Link! You're back!" A young white guy with messy hair and a wrinkled T-shirt practically jumped off the couch. He was holding the current issue of SLAM magazine. "How was the tryout? Did you see Kobe? Man, I was more nervous than you were!"
Andrew Jones, Link's roommate, was a country boy from Texas. After college, he drifted to L.A. and made a living writing freelance articles for basketball magazines. Just like Link, he was strapped for cash and an original tenant of the apartment.
"Not yet. Kupchak said they'd let me know." Link tossed his exhausted body onto the creaky old couch and rubbed his temples.
"Take it easy, man!" Andrew tried to lighten the mood, waving the magazine in his hand. "I'm betting on you! When you finally make it to the NBA, I'll be your agent! We'll team up and kill it! Trust my eye—you've got superstar potential, dude!"
Link gave a weak smile but didn't reply. His phone rang at that moment, cutting through the silence.
He took a deep breath, looking at the screen flashing "Mr. Peter Harris, Landlord," and pressed the accept button.
"Link! This is your final warning!" The landlord's impatient roar instantly blasted through the receiver. "If I don't see the back rent by noon tomorrow, you and your sorry bag are out! I mean it!"
"Mr. Harris, please, just a little more time, I—"
"Time? I've given you too much time already! All you broke-ass ballplayers are the same! Noon tomorrow—pay up or get lost!"
Before Link could say anything else, the landlord aggressively hung up.
"Ugh..." Link sighed heavily.
Dreams were great, but the reality was he still owed for last quarter's rent, the next quarter was almost due, and the money in his pocket was basically gone.
Thinking about the rent, the two young men just lay on the couch, staring blankly, wondering what the future held.
Just then, a "Knock, knock, knock..." sounded at the door. Both of them froze and looked over.
Link opened the door to see a young woman standing there, looking a little nervous.
She looked around twenty, appeared to be mixed-race with some Asian features, and was dressed simply but cleanly. She carried a heavy canvas backpack, and her face showed both tension and fatigue.
"Hi... I'm the new tenant, Amy Li," she said softly. "The landlord said... there was an empty room here."
Andrew was the first to react, rushing forward enthusiastically. "Oh! You're the college student Mr. Harris told us about? Welcome! Welcome! I'm Andrew, and this is Link!"
Link offered a polite nod.
Amy seemed a little embarrassed. "Sorry to bother you. I just got out of class... and it took me a long time to find this place."
Amy briefly explained her situation: she was a junior at UCLA, majoring in biomedical science. The crushing cost of tuition and living expenses had forced her to find the cheapest off-campus apartment share possible so she could keep studying.
"The lab assistant job pays really bad, and it takes up a ton of time," Amy said quietly. "I hope I won't be a bother."
"No way!" Andrew waved his hand dismissively. "We're roommates now! We look out for each other!"
Link quietly stepped over and helped her with the heavy suitcase, which seemed to be stuffed full of books and clothes.
After getting Amy settled, the night was already late. Link lay in his narrow room, listening to Andrew's faint snoring next door and the soft sound of turning pages coming from the new roommate's room. Exhausted from the long day, Link soon fell asleep.
The next day was Saturday. When Mitch Kupchak's call came in, Link, Andrew, and Amy were eating a simple breakfast in the kitchen.
"Link, we were impressed with the abilities you showed in the tryout. The team is willing to offer you a ten-day contract for a total of twenty thousand dollars. Welcome to the Los Angeles Lakers."
(Note: Under NBA rules, ten-day contracts are usually only available after January 5th, but this has been changed for the sake of the story.)
Kupchak's tone was businesslike, but Link's hand was trembling slightly.
A ten-day contract!
This meant he had actually stepped through the NBA door! He might only be on the fringe, but the opportunity was finally his!
"Thank you, Mr. Kupchak. I won't let you down," Link managed to say, keeping his voice steady.
"Good. Nine a.m. tomorrow morning at the team practice facility. Don't be late." Kupchak hung up immediately.
Link let out a long breath, trying to tamp down the sheer euphoria he felt.
"A ten-day contract, worth twenty thousand dollars!"
The news sounded like music, not only to Link but also to Andrew, who had been listening in. Andrew's eyes widened instantly, and the spoon in his hand clattered onto the table.
"Yes! Yes! I knew it! Link! You did it! You actually did it!"
Andrew jumped up in excitement, practically leaping over the table to hug Link, looking even more thrilled than if he'd won the lottery himself.
Though Amy didn't fully understand the specifics of a "ten-day contract," seeing the guys so emotional, and hearing the clear number twenty thousand dollars, she knew it was huge news. She put down her bread and gave Link a genuine smile. "Congratulations, Link."
Link took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Twenty grand..." Andrew was still buzzing with excitement, dancing around the table. "Listen, Link! It's not just the money; it's a ticket! A ticket to the Hall of Hoops! We have to celebrate!"
He ransacked the cupboards and finally found a few cans of cheap beer. He handed one to Link. "To the NBA, cheers!"
Amy watched the scene, a gentle smile on her face. She said softly, "Congratulations, Link. That's incredible."
"Thanks." Link took the beer but didn't drink it, just holding it. The cool metal helped him chill out a little.
Andrew chugged his beer in a few large gulps, then suddenly leaped up. "Wait! I need to start researching NBA agent rules right now and draft our partnership plan! Link, hold tight, I'll be a professional agent in no time!"
With that, he grabbed his laptop and barreled out of the apartment in a flurry.
With the loud Andrew gone, the cramped kitchen suddenly went quiet. The atmosphere became a little awkward.
Link looked at Amy, feeling that, as roommates, he should try to make conversation. He casually asked, "Are your classes at UCLA... high pressure?"
Amy tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. "It's fine. Just a lot of material to cover. Sometimes there's no time to take a break."
"That sounds tough," Link said in understanding. He thought about his own relentless, day-in, day-out grind on the court.
"You get used to it," Amy said quietly, her eyes glancing over the worn-out apartment. Her tone was peaceful. "I'm lucky to be at UCLA. My dad is Chinese, and he always wanted me to get a better education."
Amy didn't elaborate on her family, but as someone of shared Chinese descent, Link could sense a heavy burden of expectation and a difficult background behind her simple words.
He nodded, not pressing for details, and simply said, "Coming a long way for school is definitely not easy."
"Yeah," Amy looked at him, a trace of curiosity in her eyes. "What about you? Is playing basketball hard?"
Link paused slightly. In his past life and this one, he had always played basketball. He had never really stopped to think about whether it was "hard" or not.
If he had to put a name to it, it was just pure love. The sound of the ball dropping through the net was the most beautiful music in the world.
"It's just... keep shooting, keep running, never stop running," Link's mouth quirked up slightly. "Sometimes I doubt myself, but if I stop, I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do."
"I totally get that feeling." Amy agreed. She seemed to be recalling her own countless hours spent struggling in the lab.
Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn't awkward. Instead, there was a sense of shared understanding—they could both see the similar exhaustion and persistence in the other.
"I should go study for next week's classes." Amy picked up her plate and stood up, giving Link a gentle smile. "Again, congratulations, Link. I hope your training goes well tomorrow."
"Thanks," Link stood up too. "I hope all your studies go smoothly as well."
Amy nodded and turned to walk into her room.
Link sat back down, alone in the kitchen.
The L.A. sunshine streamed through the window, warming Link's cheek, and the pleasant sensation made him feel a little dreamy.
The excitement he felt earlier had settled, transforming into a steadier, more determined energy. Link took a deep breath, deciding not to overthink things. He needed to rest up and be ready. He was going to use these precious ten days to prove his worth to the team with everything he had.