Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“So he’s in your top five?”

“For sure.”

I glance over to where Jade and Kenya are talking to some big guys I assume are security guards. “Looks like you’ll get to meet him soon.”

“I’m going to try really hard not to embarrass you and your sister,” she says, her face completely serious.

“Damn, Lotus. I’ve never seen you this excited about anything. Should I be jealous?”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Never.”

But we both know I was jealous earlier and acted like an idiot. “About today,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry I showed up at your office with my . . . how did you put it? Caveman shit?”

“Glad!” someone yells from behind us.

I brace myself to be nice and patient when all I really want to be is with Lotus. We’ve had almost no time truly alone since she got back from Milan. I’ve kept a respectable distance most of the night to make sure nothing suspicious shows up on social media before we can talk to Simone in Monday’s session.“Gimme a sec,” I tell Lotus and nod toward the approaching fan.

This is the job.

One autograph turns into two and then more. I don’t think of myself as famous most of the time. Nights like this remind me, but this isn’t really my life.

“If you’re finished being all the Champ is here,” Kenya drawls from nearby, “we want to go see Grip. He has to leave soon.”

I laugh at her joke. And it is a joke. My sister knows me better than anyone, and realizes I would be perfectly fine if no one ever recognized or approached me. I’d prefer it.

When they lead us backstage, Lotus grabs my hand and squeezes. Hard.

“Oh, my God,” she squeals, her eyes bright. “It’s happening.”

“Um, remember that whole trying-not-to-embarrass-me thing?”

“Yeah, sorry. That’s out the window. Brace yourself for fangirling. Major fangirling.”

I’m loving this. My little always-cool and self-possessed badass is going to lose her shit.

We’re taken to a small room with a few couches and a table stocked with bottled water. I recognize Grip right away, of course. He’s taller than I thought, maybe five inches shorter than I am. He’s still wearing what he performed in, jeans and a black T-shirt with DOPE written in white. His shoes, though, give me sole envy. The original 1985 Air Jordans.

“What’s up, cuz?” he addresses Jade with a wide smile. He crosses the room and hooks an elbow around her neck, steals her Raiders cap, and kisses her forehead.

“What I tell you about the hat?” Jade grumbles, but she belies it with an affectionate smile. “I want you to meet somebody. Be on your best behavior.”

“Only behavior I got,” he jokes.

“Uh-huh. This is me you talking to.” Jade twists her lips and rolls her eyes. “I know your ass.”

She motions Kenya forward and takes her hand. “This is Kenya,” Jade says. She’s a hard chick, but her eyes soften when she looks at my sister.

“Heard a lot about you, Kenya,” Grip says. “I’ll pray for you trying to put up wit

h this one.”

“Much needed and much appreciated.” Kenya laughs and gestures toward Lotus and me. “This is my brother—”

“Glad!” Grip says. “I didn’t make the connection. What’s up, dude?” He walks over and daps me up. “I’m keeping my eyes on the Waves.” He points a warning finger at me. “Don’t come for my Lakers.”

“Oh, the purple and gold, huh?” I ask.

“For life, bruh,” Grip replies with an apologetic shrug. “I’m an LA kid. I got no choice.”