“Your dad must be so proud,” she says after a beat.
“Yeah. It’s a good thing we both love basketball.” I nod.
“For sure.”
Here’s your chance…
“You get on with your dad?” I try.
“No.”
I pause. “Care to expand?”
She shrugs. “Nope. We never hang out. He has his life, I have mine.” She points across the room. “You play piano?”
“Dad got me into basketball, so Mom thought she’d try me on piano.”
“Let me guess—you’re not the typical jock? You justhappento be a talented musician, too?” She puts a hand to her chest. “I don’t think my heart can take it…”
“If I’d known I was gonna meet you one day, I would’ve taken my classes more seriously.” I smile at her. “I only know one piece. Wanna hear?”
“Hmm… Okay.” She shrugs.
Practically begging.
I pull out the seat and pat the space next to me. Reaching across, I take two small, worn maracas out of a drawer and hand them to her.
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
“I need a backing singer.”
“In your dreams, Wolinski.”
“Oh, come on!” I frown. “You look like someone who could shake those maracas like crazy.”
“What gave it away?”
“I just knew the moment I first saw you. The anger issues were a dead giveaway.”
She laughs at that, and the sound goes straight to my head.
“Ready?”
She nods. I position my fingers over the keys and take a deep breath in. When the first notes sound out, she straightens in her seat.
“Shit. You weren’t kidding… Nina Simone, right?”
“My mom loves this one. She forced me to learn it so she could sing along—every damn day. It used to drive Dad and Amelia crazy.”
I continue playing “My Baby Just Cares for Me,” and I can feel Carrie’s stunned eyes on me.I think I’ve got this in the bag.
“So, basically—your mom was trying to tell you she wanted you all to herself.”
I stop playing and turn to her, my mouth falling open in mock horror.So much for that.
“Oh my God—you’resoright! We should go to therapy.”
She waves impatiently at the keys. “Come on! Keep it going.”
