Infinite Rebate: I Get Richer Every Time I Spend

The horn cut through the noise, and the ball went up.

Dexter didn’t wait for a play call. He shouldered his own center out of the jump circle, snatched the tip with both hands, and was already moving before his feet fully settled.

Straight at Lucas.

No dribble. No setup. Just pure intent closing the distance in under two seconds.

Lucas read it before Dexter crossed half court.

At the last instant he stepped outside the line of the charge, one shoulder dipping just enough for Dexter’s forearm to cut through empty air where his ribs should have been. Dexter’s momentum carried him three full strides past the spot, sneakers screeching, arms grabbing at nothing.

The arena made a sound.

Not a cheer yet. Just thousands of people inhaling at once, a low rolling ohhhh that moved through the stands like wind.

Dexter spun around, chest already heaving, eyes locked on Lucas like the miss had not happened.

Play kept moving. Ashford’s point guard scooped the loose ball, found Lucas trailing the break, and Lucas rose from the free-throw line into a lazy floater that kissed the glass and dropped.

Ashford 2. Northlake 0.

---

It happened again on the next possession.

Dexter got switched onto him near the top of the arc and didn’t even wait for the ball to come his way. He bulled through a screen that was never meant for him, drove his shoulder at Lucas’s chest, and put everything into the contact.

Lucas simply was not there when it landed.

A half-step back. A small turn of the hip. Dexter’s shoulder swept through empty space and he staggered two steps looking for something solid to hit. There was only hardwood.

Ohhhh!

Louder this time. Half the lower bowl was already on its feet.

Lucas reset, called for the ball on the wing, and buried a three so clean it barely touched net.

Ashford 5. Northlake 0.

Coach Carter was up off the bench at once.

"Dexter! Run the offense!"

Dexter did not turn around.

---

By the middle of the first quarter, the whole building could see the pattern before it even started.

The second Lucas touched the ball near him, Dexter abandoned every defensive principle he had and simply came ~ shoulder down, hands out, chasing contact like it was the only score that mattered.

And every single time, Lucas was gone before the hit arrived.

A crossover that left Dexter grabbing air.

A spin that turned a full-speed charge into an open lane.

A sidestep that sent him stumbling into his own teammate hard enough to knock both of them off balance.

Each miss pulled the same reaction from the crowd, rising higher every time, until it stopped sounding like surprise and started sounding like mockery. People were not reacting to basketball anymore. They were reacting to Dexter missing a man in front of twelve thousand witnesses.

Ashford’s bench had stopped sitting. Devon paced the sideline screaming after every empty charge.

"HE CAN’T TOUCH HIM!"

---

It was not only Dexter.

Every Northlake defender thrown at Lucas got the same treatment, just with less rage attached. A quick guard reached for a steal and got crossed so hard he nearly fell into the first row. A help defender rotated over and got dropped by a hesitation so small it looked like walking. A big man tried to wall him off in the paint and watched the ball go over his hands anyway.

Lucas was not hunting anybody.

He just made every attempt to stop him look poorly planned.

By the end of the first quarter, Ashford led 24–9. Lucas had thirteen points, six assists, and still had not been touched once.

---

The second quarter made it uglier.

Dexter’s fouls stopped pretending to be basketball. A forearm across the chest. A full grab at the jersey in front of three officials. Twice he lunged with both hands like he meant to drag Lucas down rather than guard him.

Every time, the body he wanted was already gone.

By the fourth failed attempt, the crowd noise changed again.

The ohhh curdled into open laughter.

Real laughter. From both student sections. From people who had come to watch a finals game and were now watching one player turn himself into the main joke of the night. Even some Northlake fans had their hands over their mouths, not out of sympathy, but because the embarrassment had become hard to watch without reacting.

Coach Carter finally sat him for four full minutes.

In that stretch the lead ballooned further. Devon and Marcus fed off Lucas’s gravity, cutting and finishing plays that made Northlake’s defense look a step late on everything. When Dexter checked back in with under two minutes left in the half, he was breathing hard, jersey soaked through, eyes still locked on one man in the building.

He got one more chance.

Lucas caught the ball at the elbow. Dexter came full speed, same shoulder, same blind intent, same total disregard for where the ball actually was.

Lucas read it early.

He rocked back, let the shoulder sail through the space his ribs had occupied a heartbeat before, and in the same motion rose into a fadeaway that dropped through the net before Dexter finished stumbling into the baseline padding.

The horn sounded a breath later.

Ashford 41. Northlake 15.

This time the arena did not groan.

It roared.

---

Players started filtering toward the benches. Ashford’s side was already loose, laughing, slapping hands, somebody waving a towel like the second half was only a formality. Lucas jogged toward the tunnel entrance at an easy pace, grabbed a bottle off the rack, and still was not breathing hard.

Dexter lagged behind at half court, alone, staring at nothing.

Then, for the first time all half, something like a smile touched the corner of his mouth.

He was thinking about the car.

Two days ago, standing around with a few guys trading gossip in the student lot, somebody had pointed it out to him almost as a joke ~ a matte black Bugatti parked crooked across two spots near the gym entrance, apparently belonging to the one guy nobody could stop talking about. Lucas. Of course it was Lucas.

That was when it clicked into place for Dexter, clean and simple, the only explanation that made any of this make sense to him. She hadn’t left him over anything that happened on a basketball court. She hadn’t left him because Lucas was faster or smarter or better, none of that actually mattered. She’d left because of the car. Because of the money behind it. Because girls like her didn’t care what a man was made of as long as the paint job cost more than a house.

It was almost funny once he thought about it that way. Almost a relief.

He’d made the calls two nights before, a few guys from around the block who owed him favors and didn’t ask questions as long as the money was right. He’d told them exactly where the car would be sitting and exactly when Lucas would be too busy inside an arena to notice anything happening outside it.

By the time he’d walked through the tunnel for tip-off, it was already set in motion. Somewhere in that parking lot, while twelve thousand people watched him get embarrassed possession after possession, a car worth more than his coach’s entire salary was supposed to be getting taken apart piece by piece.

Dexter almost wanted to laugh.

Let them have this half.

Let the whole building watch him miss. Let her walk across the court in front of everyone if that was what she needed to do.

None of it would matter in about twenty minutes.

---

Near the baseline, the cheer squad’s staging area shifted.

Amanda stepped out before the rest of her team, before the music even cued up for the halftime routine. Pom-poms still in hand. Expression sharp. She did not look toward Dexter at all.

She looked at Lucas.

Then she started walking.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!