Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“And how is her mother?” Kenya asks with careful coolness.

“She’s . . .” I sigh, thinking of the scene with the camera crew at our family counseling session. “She’s Bridget.”

“And that tells me all I need to know.”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m fighting to keep Simone clear of this reality show. I don’t want her enamored with fame, or what she thinks it is. It’s not just getting a bunch of Instagram followers. It’s having the worst day of your life broadcast for the whole world to see.”

“I think she gets that,” Kenya says reassuringly. “She saw what you guys went through.”

“That’s the problem, Ken. She saw it all. She knows how dark this can get. That is her life at this age. I hate that our foolishness has even touched her.”

“You mean Bridget’s foolishness,” Kenya returns harshly. “I still wish you’d let me key her car.”

“Well since I paid for the car and the repairs would come out of the alimony I give her each month,” I reply wryly, “feels like a no-win.”

“She still trying to get back in your pants?” Kenya teases.

“She should know by now that won’t ever happen, but she keeps pushing it, yeah. Unfortunately, Simone has it in her head that we might reconcile.”

“No way,” Kenya says, sounding as disbelieving as I am. “Even knowing her mom cheated?”

“Her therapist says it’s a natural response for a kid, even in circumstances where there is known infidelity. Simone sees our marriage, our relationship through a self-centered lens at this stage of her life. Not what makes sense or what’s best for us, but what seems best for her. And she believes that’s for us to be together.”

“As long as you don’t actually go soft and give Bridget another chance.”

“The fuck?” My scowl and gritting teeth have nothing to do with the icy water I’m submerged in. “You know better.”

“Long as you’re sure, because I’d never trust that bitch again.”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly.

“Yeah, but sometimes men think with their dicks. Most times, actually.”

“I’m not attracted to Bridget even a little bit anymore.” I take a long draw from a nearby water bottle. “I saw the ugliness under all the blonde and boobs.”

“You gotta fuck somebody, though, right?”

I nearly choke on the water sliding down my throat. I’m surrounded by women worried about my sex life. “We’re not going there, Ken.”

“I could find you somebody.”

Fate already brought a beautiful, fiery woman into my summer.

“I’m doing fine on my own,” I drawl, hauling myself out of the ice tub so I can shower and get ready for my day. “Thanks, though.”

“That so?” Kenya asks. “Who?”

“No one you know.” I don’t bother trying to hide it from my sister. Even if I didn’t tell her, she’d find her way to the truth.

“Is she fine?”

“As hell,” I say, chuckling unabashedly.

“A sister?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I grimace, irritated by the question I’ve fielded in some form or fashion many times since I started dating and ultimately married Bridget. “You never objected to Bridget because she was white.”

“No, I objected to Bridget because she was a whore who cheated on my brother.”