Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(72)

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 with 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.”

“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.