“I write music,” Jade says and shrugs. “Been doing it all my life, but kinda new at getting paid for it. So far, so good.”

“Speaking of which,” Kenya says, glancing at her watch, “should we be heading to the park? The show starts soon, right, babe?”

Jade nods and glances at her phone, lit up with a text message. “Oh, this is Grip. Lemme see what he’s talking about.”

My mouth is hanging open. Kenan gently presses my chin up to close my lips and whispers, “You surprised or just catching flies?”

“She knows Grip?” I whisper back, hoping I’m being discreet, but I’m low-key about to lose my shit.

“Yeah. Kenya says they’re cousins. I didn’t tell you? We have front-row seats. We’ll go backstage to meet him after.”

“Um, nope,” I say. “You skipped right over that part.”

“I’ll have to communicate better now that you’re my girlfriend,” he says. His smile fades. “I just said it and didn’t even ask you if it was okay or if—”

I don’t consider his sister or his sister’s girlfriend sitting right there, but lean forward to cut off his explanation with a kiss. It’s quick, but it’s enough. He cups my face, and he kisses me again, longer, and with such tenderness it soothes the soreness from my confrontation with Chase. Not the bruises on my arms, but the other ways Chase hurt me today. Violating my privacy. His attempts to objectify me. Every way he tried to make me feel less fades in the shadow of this kiss.

“For real, though?” Kenya’s amused voice butts in. “Y’all just going for it at the table?”

Kenan’s fingers tighten on my face so I don’t pull away. “Yup,” he says against my lips with a smile. “Can you blame me?”

When I pull away, Jade is texting her famous cousin, I presume, but Kenya is looking at me, and her eyes brim with as much concern as humor.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom before we go,” Kenan says. “Be right back.”

When he’s gone, I look at Kenya, waiting for whatever comes next.

“So here’s the deal,” she says slowly. “I need to know what’s up with you.”

I lift my chin and take the last sip of my wine before setting the glass back down.

“What’s up with me?” I ask. “In what way? What do you mean?”

“You know the deal with Bridget’s drama,” she says. “I heard she rolled up in your job.”

“Damn,” Jade mutters, flicking a glance at me before turning her attention back to her phone.

“When all that shit came out, if Kenan hadn’t stopped me, I would have kicked Bridget’s ass,” Kenya says, her face serious. “And that’s the truth. I just wanna know if I’m gonna have to kick yours at some point for doing my brother wrong.”

I always did admire the direct approach.

“Don’t be fooled by my size,” I start by telling her. “My ass doesn’t get kicked.”

“Guess she told you,” Jade mumbles, still typing on her phone.

“Is that right?” Kenya asks, a grin starting on her lips.

“That is right.” I tap the stem of the wineglass. “And I have no intention of hurting Kenan. I care about him a lot.”

“He cares about you a lot, too.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “I thought he was gonna get himself arrested when he saw that photo. I had to hold him back, and he never loses control.”

Her mouth slowly straightens from the smile into a line, so like Kenan’s. “If I hadn’t been there, he would have kicked that guy’s ass for sure.”

I rub my arms, wincing at the lingering tenderness from the bruises hidden beneath my sleeves. I’m even more determined that Kenan won’t see them.

“That situation is handled,” I assure her. “I’ve dealt with Chase.”

“Does Kenan know that?”

“Does Kenan know what?” he asks, frowning between the two of us.

“Hey,” Jade says, standing. “We gotta roll. The car’s outside to take us.”

“It’s only a few minutes away,” I say. “We could walk.”

Kenya and Kenan look at each other and say together, “New Yorkers.”

“Y’all want to walk everywhere.” Kenya laughs and follows Jade to the exit. Kenan and I are right behind.

“What did Kenya mean?” he asks. “Do I know what?”

I draw a shallow breath and release it quickly. “She asked me about the photo in the gallery.”

“Dammit.” Kenan grimaces. “I’m sorry. I have no idea why she even mentioned it.”

“I know why. She loves you and was afraid you would get into some trouble going after Chase.”

“She might be right,” he says, a rough chuckle rolling out of him. “But it was all good. If you didn’t sit for it or sign a release, we need to figure out how to handle it, though.”

“Yeah, I, um . . . did. I already handled it.”

We reach the sidewalk, and Kenya and Jade climb into the waiting black SUV.

“How did you handle it?” He stops before we reach the car.

“Kenan.” I glance around him and see impatience gathering on both girls’ faces. “Let’s talk about it later. They’re waiting.”

“Let them wait.”

“Kenan, come on,” Kenya says.

“You can wait one minute,” he tells her sharply, “or go the fuck on. Up to you, Ken.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs a heavy breath. “Well hurry up.”

“Okay,” he says, turning back to me. “Now that you got everybody waiting.”

“I have everyone waiting . . .” I laugh at the tiniest gleam of humor in his dark eyes. “I can’t believe you, Kenan Ross.”

“Tell me. What’d you do? How’d you handle it?”

“I went to see Chase.”

The spare lines of his face tighten. “And how’d that go? Did he give you any trouble?”

“No trouble. It’s been removed from the exhibit.”

It’s a long summer day, and the sun hasn’t quite set. In the near dark, he searches my face before nodding.

“Okay. You handled it. Good.” He flicks a grin to his sister. “Coming. Doesn’t hurt you to wait sometimes.”

On the very short ride to Central Park, I tell myself I didn’t lie. I omitted parts of the truth to protect him, and I’m still fully realizing how important that is to me.

25

Kenan

“He’s good,” I say as Grip leaves the stage on Central Park’s Great Lawn.

“Good?” Lotus asks, her face scrunched up. “Frozen yogurt is good. Boiled eggs are good.”

“I prefer scrambled.”

“The new James Patterson is good.”

“Is it really?”

“It’s aight.” She shrugs and gives her head a quick shake. “My point is, Grip is great. Amazing. Gifted.”

“So he’s in your top five?”

“For sure.”

I glance over to where Jade and Kenya are talking to some big guys I assume are security guards. “Looks like you’ll get to meet him soon.”

“I’m going to try really hard not to embarrass you and your sister,” she says, her face completely serious.

“Damn, Lotus. I’ve never seen you this excited about anything. Should I be jealous?”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Never.”

But we both know I was jealous earlier and acted like an idiot. “About today,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry I showed up at your office with my . . . how did you put it? Caveman shit?”

“Glad!” someone yells from behind us.

I brace myself to be nice and patient when all I really want to be is with Lotus. We’ve had almost no time truly alone since she got back from Milan. I’ve kept a respectable distance most of the night to make sure nothing suspicious shows up on social media before we can talk to Simone in Monday’s session.“Gimme a sec,” I tell Lotus and nod toward the approaching fan.

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.”