Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(80)

She leans back in her seat and eyes us both.

“I think Simone may benefit from a few one-on-one sessions with each of you,” Dr. Packer says. “There could be some things she’s reluctant to say in front of one or the other.”

Bridget and I nod our agreement.

“Give her time, watch her closely, and put her first,” Dr. Packer says. “That means setting aside all this acrimony.”

She splits her gaze between the two of us, her brows lifted. “Think you can do that?”

Bridget and I exchange a look charged with all the things that infect our every interaction—resentment, anger, fear, regret—before both nodding curtly. Bridget stands as abruptly as Simone did, and she, too, walks away.





28





Kenan





I’ve returned to the scene of the almost-crime.

And Kenya’s not with me this time when I enter the Gilded Bean, so I need to check myself.

“Oh.” The woman with the glasses from the other day looks up from her writing pad. “You’re back.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry if I . . . came on too strong the other day,” I say, pulling from my very limited supply of charm. “I was disappointed the photo wasn’t for sale.”

“Yes. I picked up on that, Mr. Ross.”

“You know who I am?”

“When a man offers twenty-thousand dollars for a photo in my gallery,” she says wryly, “I make it my business to know who he is.”

“The offer still stands. I want that photo very badly.”

“It’s not for sale. Actually, as you can see,” she says, gesturing to the wall where the photo of Lotus hung before, “it’s no longer in the exhibit.”

I study a picture of the High Line where the Lo photo hung. So Lotus was right. It has been removed.

“May I ask why you were so interested?” she asks “I mean, besides the obvious. She’s a beautiful girl.”

“She’s my girl. My girlfriend, and that punk ass didn’t have her permission to display that photo.”

“That’s a serious allegation.” She glances at the new photo and frowns.

“I’m not here to make allegations. It’s up to Lotus how she wants to move forward. I just want to speak to Chase. Is he here?”

It’s a tiny lie. I want to do more than speak to him, but I school my expression into something harmless and only mildly interested.

After a pause and a searching glance, she points down a hall to the left. “He’s in one of the rooms working with a few photos.”

“Thanks.”

I follow the direction she pointed and sure enough, Chase is up on a ladder, adjusting the mounting for one of the displays. I kick the ladder lightly, and it wobbles for a few seconds, almost toppling. Chase lets out a high-pitched curse, and I grab the ladder to stabilize it at the last minute.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Chase frowns at me from his perch.

“Get down,” I say in as calm a voice as I can. He’s not nearly as big as I am, but he’s much bigger than Lotus, and he put his hands on her. I keep seeing the dark marks on her arms, and I’m getting madder by the minute.

“Excuse me?” he asks, one brow lifted, the picture of arrogance.

“You can climb down and we can talk face-to-face, or you can stay up there, and I kick this ladder so you fall. Either way, you’re coming down.”

He runs a hand through his hair, left loose to his shoulders today, and expels an exasperated breath. He climbs down and, once he’s on the ground, folds his arms over his chest.

“Look, Lo came and we sorted it out,” he says. “So you and I have nothing to discuss, as far as I can see.”

“That’s the problem. You don’t seem to see very far.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“If you’d had any foresight,” I say, stepping closer to him, “you wouldn’t have grabbed her. You wouldn’t have bruised her arms, because then you might have forecast that you’d have to deal with me.”

He swallows, his eyes shifting nervously to the door behind me. “She had bruises?”

“She actually tried to hide them because she was afraid I’d come and punch you in the face or something.”

I bend slightly until our eyes line up. “Because I am going to punch you in the face.”

“You can’t just go around hitting people,” he says, but he doesn’t sound completely sure.

“Why not?” I frown and tilt my head, as if I’m really contemplating this. “You go around taking naked pictures of women without their permission and displaying them in your exhibit.”

“You may not realize this, but Lotus and I have a history,” he says, his expression self-satisfied. “She and I used to—”

“Fuck,” I cut in. “I’m aware.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” I say with deceptive calm. “I’m here to punch you in the face.”

“Why? I took the photo down.”

I step even closer to make him feel every one of the inches I tower over him. Let him see how it feels being threatened by someone bigger.