“We didn’t move here for regression. You have one life to live, and I made sure you’d be able to live it well.”
After seventeen years, running drills with Pops isn’t what it used to be. There’s nothing left for him to teach me about basketball, so now he tries to teach me about life on Saturday mornings, but it’s too late.
“I got a call from an old friend yesterday. Name’s Mitch. He’s an agent—retired now though,” he says. “I met him golfing down in the Keys in the summer of ’07. He says he knows a young agent that’s hunting for some basketball talent. He’s trying to expand the NBA arm of his agency and he’s interested in you.”
He shrugs, taking another sip of coffee. “His name is Blake Harvey.”
The heat’s swallowing my breath again so I can’t ask why the fuck I would want to meet a dude named Blake, but Pops doesn’t care because agents aren’t lined up at his doorstep begging to court me anymore.
“I think you might be interested in what he has to say.”
I charge toward the chair with the ball, whipping around it and sinking an easy floater while he keeps talking about Blake.
“He’ll be at the gala next weekend.”
I frown, tripping over my feet and puffing out a breath. “What gala?”
“The Shooting Stars Gala.”
“You going back to LA for that?”
“No, it’s coming here.”
“But that’s Mom’s thing. She plans it.”
All the tedious shit he never had time for were herthings—galas, fundraisers, birthday parties, holidays, family vacations. She even helped dress me for prom. She’s the only reason I know how to tie a tie.
“My staff took over.”
“And you think they can do a better job than Mom?”
“That’s not for you to worry about. You just make sure you bring your head because your talent can’t sell you anymore. We’re beyond that.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes toward the sky. “Bring my head?”
“Yeah. I figured you could go about this meeting on your own. It’ll teach you responsibility and professionalism.” He slaps me across the neck. “You can’t learn nothing if I’m there holding your hand all night.”
Afterward, he strolls off toward his enclosed patio with his coffee mug and then turns his head. “Oh yeah, don’t think I didn’t find the new deed to Angie’s spot when I boxed her stuff up to donate. I see you weaseled your way into another cushy condo. That’s prime real estate you holed up in.”
CHAPTERTEN
Lourdes
My body has this weird anticipation for Ace now that I’m a confirmed inhabitant of his planet.
I didn’t even confirm my own damn inhabitance—hedid after one of his followers jokingly asked if he’d been living on Planet Ace all this time that his Twitter sat empty. That surprised me just as much as it surprised them and to top it off, he followed me—basicassme with my meager two-thousand followers. He didn't even have a real social media presence until me.
@AceWilliamsJr 2d
Yeah... just me and the kid. We just been chillin’, playing follow the leader, and debating about basic life norms on Planet Ace. She loves it here.
The best and most annoying thing about being the only other soul on Planet Ace is that he can see every thought I decide to share in the one place I escape to when I’m stuck at home with Mama. It’s a privilege and a curse because it’s the only space where I can air out my new obsessive thoughts about him I can’t say in person and then delete them before Bryson gets any ideas. Now I break out in a cold sticky sweatandhives when I know he’s watching my timeline and thinking of his next tweet to disturb my body’s equilibrium.
Last night, it got so slick because I tweeted something I shouldn’t have after agonizing over it for hours. Mama thought I got a spontaneous infection at the kitchen table while I ate the McDonald’s it took Marcus two hours to bring, but no, it was just me and Ace playing stupid Twitter games.
I tweet. He responds with a subtweet. I squirm and delete. Rinse. Repeat.
@babyphat04 1d
