“We haven’t even sat down for the interview yet,” Meryl says gleefully. “And I’ve already gotten a lot.”
I notice Grip’s leather jacket and hoodie on the floor. I pick them up so they won’t get stepped on or dirty. As soon as they’re within sniffing distance, his clean, masculine scent surrounds me. I hold the material to my chest and surreptitiously inhale, closing my eyes to absorb this small part of him. The items still have the warmth of his body, and holding them, even for a few seconds, warms my chilled places.
When I open my eyes, I encounter Ms. James’ golden brown gaze locked on me. Even fully dressed with Grip’s jacket and hoodie hugged to my chest, I feel naked under her stare. She sees everything. I clear discomfort from my throat and turn back to the court.
Grip takes one final shot, which apparently puts the game away, and the students go crazy, emptying the bleachers and rushing the basket- ball court. Even Amir, Shondra, Ms. James, and Meryl join the exuberant knot of students surrounding Grip on the court. I hang back, observing. He’s laughing, at ease, at home, the basketball pressed to his hip.
I’ve never been in this position with him. On the outside, out of favor. It’s awkward, and it hurts. Maybe I could mitigate this by telling him that Parker and I aren’t dating. Parker should be telling everyone soon enough himself anyway. But do I have the right? Grip finally seems to be moving on and giving someone a real shot. I’m still not going to be with him, so what would telling him accomplish? I should give them a chance, him and Qwest.
I skirt the edges of the crowd, waiting while he signs autographs, all the while encouraging Bop to keep writing, to enter the contest. I’ve never seen this side of him. Listening to the songs he writes about his childhood and his old neighborhood, I suspected it, but seeing it firsthand is an entirely different thing. An entirely better thing.
Meryl steps out of the crowd until she’s standing with me.
“I’m glad you invited me.” Her broad grin pushes the glasses up on her cheeks. “This is a great add for the piece.”
“Speaking of which,” I say. “Grip has a session soon, making some last-minute adjustments for the album. We better get him into the courtyard for your interview before it gets too late.”
I make my way through the crowd until I’m standing right behind Grip, waiting for him to finish the last few autographs.
“You enjoy managing my son?” Ms. James asks at my shoulder.
I turn my head, startled to find her so close, those eyes, so like Grip’s, trained on my face.
“Yes, very much.” I clutch his leather jacket and hoodie a little closer. “I manage several artists, but Grip definitely has a special place. He’s like family, being so close to Rhyson.”
“So he’s like a brother to you?” Ms. James asks.
“Something like that.” I lick the lie away from my lips, turning to offer her a smile. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
I see a good stopping point, and know I have to dive in and get him out before he starts with another group.
“Excuse me, Ms. James.” I smile politely and press my way to Grip’s side.
“Hey.” I touch his elbow, drawing a sharp glance from him. The smile on his face, the light in his eyes dies when he realizes it’s me. That look drags a serrated knife over an open nerve.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say softly. “But we need to get into your interview with Meryl. I think you have a session this afternoon, right?”
For a moment, it seems he may not even acknowledge my question, but then he nods and turns back to the crowd.
“Gotta go, guys.” He raises his voice to be heard by all who are around. “I’ll stay longer next time.”
“Sorry to break things up.” I look up at him, searching the rigid lines of his face for any softening. He flicks a glance my way with a barely discernible nod.
“Oh, here’s your stuff.” I extend the jacket and hoodie to him.
“Thanks,” he mutters, slipping the hoodie over the plain white T-shirt he played basketball in.
“Sure.” I look over at Shondra to give myself something
to do while things feel so weird. “Hey, can we head to the courtyard for the interview now?”
“Of course,” Shondra responds. “Follow me.”
Meryl gets a call on our way to the courtyard. While she’s on the phone and Shondra is a few paces ahead of us, I search for something to break this awkward silence between Grip and me.
“I didn’t know you were taking online courses.”
“And I didn’t realize it had anything to do with managing me.” He looks straight ahead. “So, why would I tell you?”