Block Shot (Hoops 2)

Part II

“There will be men who fall in love with your skin

and others who drown themselves

in everything that lies beneath.”

* * *

-Cindy Cherie, Poetess

7

Jared

“Look at me, Uncle Jared!”

I squint through the glare of sunlight in the direction of the high-pitched voice. A splash follows the tiny projectile human into the pool.

“Great cannonball, Sarai!?

? I yell back to my niece. “Make sure to tuck your knees in.”

I slip off my short boots and socks, roll up the pants of my suit, and sit on the edge of the pool, lowering my legs into the cool water.

“Now this is the life.” I glance at my brother, August, seated beside me in his trunks. “I’d say this is an upgrade from your apartment.”

“Yeah, we needed the bigger place.” He looks past the pool in his backyard to the electric blue sprawl of the Pacific Ocean just beyond. “Much better view, and it’s close to Sarai’s school. Not too much of a commute for Iris to the Elevation office either.”

“How’s she adjusting to the new setup?” I scoop a handful of water and splash Sarai, who’s swimming toward us.

August’s initial reluctance to relocate our sports agency headquarters to LA from San Diego, where his team, the Waves, play, centered around his wife. Iris works in marketing with us, but wanted to stay with August in San Diego.

“You’re her boss,” August says. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“You’re her husband. Shouldn’t you?”

We share a grin because we both know Iris wouldn’t choose to be anywhere my brother wasn’t.

“Dude,” I say, loosening my tie and tossing it over my shoulder. “You are married with kids. What the hell?”

August’s smile is wide and satisfied.

“One kid for now,” he says. “But hopefully more soon. Isn’t life grand?”

“As much as I love Iris and Sarai, you can have that life.” I lean back, arms straight and palms pressed to the concrete. “I’m not ready to settle down with just one woman.”

“You’re in your thirties, bruh. You must at least think about it.”

“I do think about it,” I agree. “And break out in hives.”

We both laugh, but I’m serious.

“Two reasons marriage is not even on my radar,” I continue. “One, I have a low tolerance for people.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

August can’t relate to my view because he’s one of those “people people.” We couldn’t be more different. Not just that I’m blond and blue-eyed and that his darker skin and thick curls proclaim his biracial heritage, but we’re different inside.