"Luke, how do you plan on spending the weeks leading up to the Draft?"
Luke was staring out the window, watching the scenery blur past as they left the Bronx. Hearing Steph's question, he didn't even look back. "I'm finding a gym and staying there. I need to get stronger."
"Then come to my place," Steph suggested immediately. "We can train together. Seth is about to start his summer break too. If the three of us grind together, we'll hit the ground running."
Jeff Austin, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned around with an intrigued look. "You two want to jump straight back into training?"
"Of course!" they answered in unison.
"Well, that makes my job easier," Austin said, reaching into his pocket. "I'll find you a trainer. A real pro."
"A trainer?" Luke's interest piqued. He had his system, but professional guidance on NBA-level footwork and conditioning was something a menu screen couldn't fully replicate.
"You're lucky the playoffs are still in full swing," Austin said, dialing a number. "His schedule isn't completely packed yet. He should be able to give you two or three weeks. Hold on, let me see if he's free."
The call connected, and Austin put it on speaker so they could hear the voice on the other end.
"Hey, Idan. You got an opening? I have two clients who need some polishing before the draft."
"I've got about two weeks to a month before my schedule fills up," the voice replied, sounding calm and methodical. "If they want the work, they need to get here now."
"Perfect. I'll have them there tomorrow."
After a few more pleasantries, Austin hung up.
"Alright, Jeff. Who is he?" Luke asked.
Austin leaned back with a mysterious smirk. "A lawyer."
"A lawyer?" Steph's face twisted in confusion. "Jeff, are you serious? You hired a lawyer to train us for the NBA?"
The idea sounded ridiculous. How was a guy in a suit going to prepare two elite athletes for the most physical league on earth?
"Take it easy, boys. Lawyers have rights too, you know," Austin joked. "Sure, Idan hasn't played competitive ball since high school, but..."
"What?!" Steph shouted. "A lawyer who hasn't played since high school? Jeff, is it too late to fire you?"
Austin sighed, looking at Luke. "See? Look at Luke. Calm as a monk. Steph, let me finish."
"Fine, fine," Steph muttered, scratching his head. "Go on."
"His name is Idan Ravin. He was a lawyer until he was thirty. Then he quit the firm to start training NBA players. Ever heard of Steve Francis?"
"The Franchise? Of course," Luke cut in.
In Luke's mind, Steve Francis was a revolutionary. Before him, point guards were strictly facilitators and shooting guards were scorers. Francis bridged that gap, becoming the original "Combo Guard"—dropping 20 points and 6 assists a night with ease.
"Francis was his first client," Austin continued. "In fact, Ravin was the one who inspired the whole 'Combo Guard' philosophy. Since then, Chris Paul, Carmelo Anthony, and LeBron James have all used him. You're in good hands. He'll get you... 'arranged' properly."
Luke winced slightly at the word "arranged." It sounded more like a threat than a promise of improvement. But if he was the man behind CP3 and LeBron, the guy clearly had a gift.
For Steph, this was the perfect move. For Luke? Well, while he could technically "grind" in silence using his system, having a professional eye to correct his form while he earned System Points was a win-win.
"Then let's go," Steph said, energized. "Wait, Jeff, where is this guy located?"
"Washington D.C."
"Got it," Steph turned to the driver before Luke could speak. "Driver, take us to Washington!"
Luke froze. Then, a slow, wide grin—the kind of look that would eventually become a legendary NBA meme—spread across his face. He buried his face in his hand, shaking with laughter. "Hahaha! Steph... are you for real?"
"What?" Steph asked, blinking.
"You want to take a New York City taxi all the way to D.C.? Hahaha!" Luke couldn't stop. "We've captured a Rare Stupid Steph!"
Steph's face turned a brilliant shade of crimson as the realization hit him. The distance was nearly 250 miles. The fare alone would probably cost more than his rookie per-diem.
"Heh... heh," Steph gave a dry, awkward laugh, his soul leaving his body. It was an instant classic—a moment that would haunt him for years.
The taxi driver was visibly vibrating, trying to hold back his own laughter. Luke patted the driver's shoulder. "Don't hold it back, man. Just let it out. He earned it."
Steph slumped into his seat, dying of embarrassment. "Right... the airport. We're going to the airport. Obviously."