Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

“You get a pass then,” I tell him, reaching for Lotus’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Lotus.”

Grip shifts his look to Lotus and then looks back at me, brows raised approvingly. Everyone knows he’s notoriously in love with his wife, Bristol, so I know he means no disrespect. The opposite, actually.

“Hi, Lotus,” Grip says with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, uh . . . well, I’m . . .” She draws a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m such a fan. The show was fantastic.”

“See?” Grip stretches his arm toward Lotus, his palm open. “That’s what I’m talking about. None of you busters gonna even tell a brother he did good.”

He gives Lotus an exaggerated nod and bow. “Thank you, Lotus. Glad someone noticed.”

“Someone needs his ego stroked again?”

The question comes from a woman at the door with dark hair and silvery–grey eyes. She’s not in the public eye much, but I know it’s Grip’s wife, Bristol.

He walks over, drops a quick kiss on her lips, and pulls her in front of him, crossing his arms over her waist. “Don’t come in here talking about stroking if you’re not willing to deal with the consequences, Bris.” He peers down at her, focusing a wicked look and grin on his wife.

“Ewww.” Jade grimaces, walking over to give Bristol a quick hug. “’Sup, Bris. Grip, don’t start with that shit. You got a room around here somewhere. Use it. Where’s the kids? That’s who I really came to see.”

“With Mama James,” Bristol says, settling back against her husband’s chest. “Back at the hotel.”

“I thought they’d be here,” Jade says.

“Just because Grip dragged us on tour with him,” she says, giving him a gentle elbow to the stomach and a grin, “doesn’t mean my children have no structure whatsoever. They’re not rock stars, and are in bed the same time every night.”

“The hotel’s around the corner,” Grip says. “Come back with us. We’re rolling out soon. Another show. Another city tomorrow.” He runs a hand over his face. “I’m exhausted and wanna crash.”

He smiles at us. “You guys are welcome to come with us and have some dinner. My mom smuggles a hot plate into our hotels because she refuses to eat room service. It’s kinda ghetto, but you’d be amazed what she can pull off with such limited resources.”

“That’s Aunt Mittie.” Jade laughs. “Yeah, I need to see her before you roll out.”

She looks up at Kenya. “You down? You gotta meet her.”

Kenya looks to us, a question on her face. As cool as Grip seems, and as much as I’m sure Aunt Mittie can make miracles with only Crisco and a hot plate, I really just want to be alone with Lotus. She’s a Grip fan, though, and I won’t deny her the experience.

“Totally up to you,” I tell Lotus, keeping my expression neutral.

“It sounds like so much fun,” she says.

I swallow my disappointment and start convincing myself that we’ll have time together tomorrow or another day. The closer she gets to Fashion Week, the less time she has. And my time will be non-existent soon because I’ll have to show up for training camp. Then pre-season games, then regular season. Hopefully playoffs.

“But I better not,” Lotus continues. “I have an early morning.” She looks up at me. “I think I should get home and rest,” she says. “That okay with you, Kenan?”

Our eyes cling, and the same banked desire I’ve suppressed all night, fought every time our hands brushed or our legs accidentally connected under the table, burns in the look Lotus gives me.

“Yeah,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “Early morning here, too.”

“Early morning, my ass,” Kenya says, giving me a knowing look. “Well alright. You still coming to my game tomorrow?”

I reach for a hug and kiss her cheek. She makes a disgusted face in response, and everyone laughs.

“I wouldn’t miss it, baby sister.” I give Jade a quick hug, too. “Great finally meeting you. You’ll be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Jade replies. “I heard I might get to meet your daughter.”

“Probably not,” I tell her ruefully. “She thought she could make it, but her mom texted me that she has a dance commitment. Maybe next time.”

I turn my attention to Grip and his wife. “Really great meeting you,” I tell them, extending my hand for fist pounds.