Block Shot (Hoops 2)

“How are you?” I reach up for a hug. “I feel like we haven’t talked all summer.”

“You handed me over to that junior agent,” he accuses with no heat. He was one of the clients I felt comfortable temporarily offloading. His contract is set for the next two years, and he intentionally pulled back from everything except the golf tournament to focus on the situation with his daughter and his ex-wife.

“How are things going with the custody battle?” I ask.

“Pretty good. Bridget has . . .”

Kenan stops mid-sentence, the intensity of his gaze fixed over my shoulder. I glance in that direction to see what has arrested his attention. It’s not a what, but a who. A beautiful woman stares back at him unblinkingly. She’s slim with skin like whipped cocoa. Her platinum blonde pixie cut and the bohemian flair to her formal dress distinguish her from everyone around her. She’s not famous as far as I can recall, but there is something almost hypnotic about her presence. I tear my eyes away and look back to Kenan who is still fixated on her. When I glance back over my shoulder, she has turned away and is talking to a little girl, who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who is that, Kenan?” I punch his shoulder when he still doesn’t answer. “Earth to Kenan. Who is that woman you were ogling?”

He narrows his eyes at me. Kenan isn’t an easy guy to tease, but he allows me to do it every once in a while. “What woman?”

“Really?” I ask, slanting him a disbelieving look. “The little fairy over there you couldn’t take your eyes off. Who is she?”

He stares at me a few more seconds, like he’s weighing if he’ll regret whatever he shares.

“Her name is Lotus,” he offers reluctantly.

“Well, she should either go out with you or file a restraining order.”

His deep-timbered chuckle has me smiling, too. The smile slowly melts from his handsome face.

“She’s not checking for me. Won’t give me the time of day.”

“Surely you won’t let that stop you?” I challenge. “Not Kenan ‘The Gladiator’ Ross.”

He rolls his eyes, but his stare drifts back in her direction. I hazard one more glance and lose all my air. The little girl with her who looked vaguely familiar is Sarai, August and Iris’s daughter I met at the basketball game. Now August and Iris have joined her, along with Jared.

And his date.

Well I assume the woman is his date. She is more Cindy than the original Cindy ever was. Blonder. Thinner. Prettier. Absolutely perfect. Jealousy claws through my veneer of civilization, and I want to tear her hair from its naturally blonde roots. Her Scandinavian beauty taunts me, reminds me she fits his mold and is his type in a way I’ll never be. I turn my head before he catches me staring at him and this dime store goddess he picked up and brought in. We haven’t talked much, but when we have, he was very clear about waiting. About still being there once Zo’s chemo was done and we could assess where he stands. Zo’s initial anger and bitterness have passed. I’m positive he’ll let me help him where needed, even if I’m dating someone else, but maybe Jared has moved on and didn’t know how to tell me.

“Ready?” Zo asks, then speaking to Kenan when he realizes I was in a conversation. “Kenan, good to see you.”

They exchange pleasantries and catch up on Zo’s health while I itch to run from this place screaming. If it weren’t for Zo’s speech, I would do just that. I don’t look Jared’s way, but even peripherally I can see them both gleaming and golden like the awards being handed out tonight, perfect under the bright lights. I’ve felt an awareness every time I’ve been in the same room with Jared, like we share some telepathic secret, even when I didn’t want it to be that way. I don’t feel that now, don’t feel his attention. Maybe it’s completely fixed on her.

“Can we go in now, Zo?” I ask, controlling my voice so it doesn’t shake. “Please?”

“Of course.” He takes my hand and I don’t even resist. I’ve been careful to draw the lines clearly when we are alone. The world can think what it wants about what we are to each other. Zo and I know that we are just friends now, even though he shows me he wants more every chance he gets. He and I know the truth.

And I thought Jared knew the truth. I thought he was my truth, but maybe it was all just a lie I told myself and he let me believe.

I sit through the first awards, numb and stiff, cognizant of Jared sitting with Cindy 2.0 a few rows ahead. He never once turns to look back at me. Or for me. Maybe he doesn’t even know I’m here.

When they come to Zo’s award, I afford him my complete focus, watching for signs of weakness or that he’s tired himself out. He walks onstage obviously frail but regal, the league statesman he has always been and more. The audience is on its feet for a standing ovation that seems to go on forever before he says one word. The whole room is charged with emotion and support for this man who has done so much for so many.

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He waves them down to their seats with a smile. He takes his place at center stage and talks about his journey, how important it was to remain positive, thanking everyone for their support, and even how it’s not over and there is so much road ahead. I’m as proud as if it were me up on that stage.

And then it is.

“And I literally would not be here,” Zo says after a few minutes. “Were it not for Banner Morales.”

My name from stage startles me, and my face flames when I realize the camera and so many eyes have turned on me. I try to look natural, which never really works. Trying to look natural.

“Banner, come.” Zo beckons me with a hand, his eyes burning with emotion and gratitude.