Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Just watch.” Kenan crosses one long leg over the other. “West’ll come out blazing after the half.”
“We’ll see.” I shrug a little too casually. “Not like I have an actual dog in the fight.”
Kenan Ross’s basketball IQ is legendary, and it’s matched by his astuteness off the court.
“That’s not the word on the street,” he says, sliding me a shrewd glance.
“What you hear?” I ask.
“My sources tell me you’re buying the Vipers.”
“Hmmm.” My monosyllabic grunt is all he’s getting for now. “Are those the same sources that tell me you’re in the market for ownership, too?”
“Not majority stake. Too rich for my blood, but I never tried to hide that I wanted more skin in the game.” Some of his humor fades. “This is our game. With all the brothers we have playing, I want to see more of us in front offices, leading organizations and owning teams.”
“Agreed. So you got your eye on a piece of the Waves?”
“I’m working on something, but I have a feeling my path is a lot easier than yours. They don’t just give majority ownerships away. And I ain’t talking about money.”
“If it were easy, more of us would do it. Most of the shit I’ve done hasn’t come easy.”
“You ready to deal with Andy Jr. and them good ol’ boys?”
“The better question is are they ready to deal with me?” I keep my face neutral until Kenan chuckles and shakes his head, prompting me to yield a matching smile.
“Let me know if I can help,” he says.
“Same. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
“I better get back down there.” Kenan stands and so do I. “My wife and her cousin are courtside.”
“That’s August’s wife, right?”
“Yup. Iris has their two kids with her and Lotus has our little girl. It’s a full-on estrogen production and I needed a break,” he says, belying the words with a proud grin. “But my wife is not above coming to find me if I’m gone too long.”
“Give them both my best,” I say, walking him to the exit of the box.
Once the door closes behind him, I turn to find Bolt watching me. We say a lot without words for a few seconds before he finally breaks the silence.
“We should keep him close,” Bolt says. “He could help down the road.”
“Agreed.” I pat his shoulder approvingly. “Thanks for bringing him by.”
I walk over to stand by my father at the glass.
“Game’s tied,” he says, eagerness lighting his face. “Paulson’s doing pretty good tonight. The guys are holding their own.”
“I’m glad. The less of a mess we have to clean up when we get there, the better.”
“Fuck outta here,” my father yells, pounding a fist to the plexiglass. “Did you see that? Offensive foul? I could make a better call blindfolded! You gotta be…”
He rubs a hand over his mouth and expels his annoyance in a harsh breath.
“And you know West ain’t gon’ miss,” I say, watching one of the league’s brightest players take his spot at the free-throw line.
But he does miss.
“Ball don’t lie,” my father crows. “That’s what you get for that shit call.”
West does make the second shot, but there’s no time to do more than a full-court throw before the buzzer sounds to end the first half.
It’s a huge game. We, the underdog of the playoffs, are the only thing standing between the Waves advancing toward their first championship. They’d still have to beat the Eastern Conference champ, but neither of the two teams fighting it out on the other side of the country match well against West and the Waves. This is game two. We lost the first game, but if we can steal this one on their home court before we head back to Vegas for game three, our odds get better.
Nobody believes the Vipers can pull it off, but the arena is packed with people who want to watch us try. A game like this draws lots of celebrities wanting to see and be seen in their floor seats. Ironically, most of the ones who make it to the jumbotron were at our last party in Miami.
“What’s she doing here?” Bolt blurts, his tone sharp with something that sounds like excitement. He joins us and presses his palm flat to the plexiglass.
I follow his line of vision to the jumbotron. The camera is focused on Chapel, who blows a kiss and uses her beer to toast the cheering crowd. Seated to Chapel’s left is Skipper, who grins and flashes a peace up, A Town down. That’s the “she” in Bolt’s question, but I’m much more interested in the woman seated to Chapel’s right.
Hendrix isn’t looking at the camera, seemingly unaware or uncaring about her companions’ on-screen byplay. She’s frowning down at her phone, one corner of her mouth trapped between her teeth. Her hairstyle is different from the last time I saw her. It’s that Zoë Kravitz-esque combination of loose hair and braids. Some is gathered into a knot atop her head and the rest rains over her shoulders and arms. She’s wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with Dark & Lovely in sparkling letters. With her head bent and fingers flying over the keypad, she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else.