Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

Billie nods, her usually neat red hair mussed and falling around her shoulders, as if she’s been running her hands through it. “I almost feel like I knew it would have to happen like this. Like I brought it on myself.”

“How do ya figure?” Yari asks.

Billie settles curious green eyes on me for long seconds.

“What?” I ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“At my birthday party,” she says. “You said be careful what you wish for. Why’d you say that?”

I blink at her, searching for some explanation that would make logical sense to them. “No reason.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Why? What did you wish for?”

“A baby. I wished for a baby to force his hand, to make him choose,” she whispers. Her eyes fill with tears. “I know it’s the oldest trick in the book, but I stopped taking my pills.”

“Bill, no.” Yari’s horrified eyes stretch wide, flicking between me and our friend. “Are you pregnant?”

“No.” She looks at me again. “His wife is.”

My heart drops to my feet. I don’t know what made me say that. I don’t always know details, but sometimes I have impressions or a strong feeling. Whatever gift I inherited from MiMi, it’s not perfect or precise like the night I sensed death near and assumed it was for Kenan, but it was actually warning me about Simone.

“I wished for a baby to make him choose,” Billie says bitterly. “I guess I should have specified a baby for me to make him choose me. You were right, Lo. I should have been careful what I wished for.”

I can’t answer the questions in her eyes to any satisfaction, so I redirect the conversation. “So you resigned.”

Billie watches me for a few more seconds before nodding. “I can’t work for him anymore. Not after this. I’ll start pounding the pavement, I guess.”

“You have a business degree from NYU,” I say wryly. “And four years working for one of the hottest houses in fashion. We’ll find you something.”

“What if it’s not finding something,” Yari says, her bright eyes flashing between us, “but making something.”

“What do you mean?” Billie draws her brows together. “Me? Make something? You know I can’t sew or design or even cross-stitch. The only head I have for fashion is a business mind.”

“Right.” Yari jogs over to the table where my things are and holds up my sketch pad. “But I happen to have a friend who is very good at making things.”

“Me?” I point at my chest. “No, I’m not ready to strike out on my own. I’ve still got a lot to learn from JP. Maybe in a year or so.”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Billie says, borrowing some of Yari’s excitement. “We could do it, Lo. We could start our own label.”

“And your podcast has become so popular,” Yari chimes in. “We could totally leverage the influence you’re building through it.”

I’m about to tell them what a horrible idea this actually is, when Paul walks in.

Brave, foolish man.

“Billie, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, fixing his eyes on her and deliberately avoiding the glares Yari and I hurl his way.

“No, Paul.” Billie looks at him, and I hate the weakness creeping into her eyes when their stares connect. “There’s nothing left to say.”

“I disagree,” he replies, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat. “Uh, ladies, maybe you could excuse us for a minute.”

“Uh, Paul,” Yari snaps, stepping in front of Billie to partially obscure his view, “maybe you could go fuck yourself for a minute.”

“Look, I’m still the CEO of this company, dammit,” he says harshly, “and you can’t talk to me like that. I will not abide insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” I ask, a dark chuckle rolling out of my mouth. “You have five seconds to take your ass back upstairs or your wife gets a call from me tonight with the truth, not that shit you told her to cover your ass.”

“Billie, if you could—”

“One,” I say, stepping beside Yari to completely hide Billie from his view.