Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,118

up, clapping as Will comes into our section. “You made it!”

“Yes, barely.” Will hands her a black velvet box. “Traffic was a beast because of some accident.”

“Thank you.” Qwest takes the box and then turns to me. “A little gift to celebrate the number one spot.”

“Oh, wow.” A surprised breath escapes my lips. “I didn’t expect anything. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to, and don’t say wow till you’ve seen it.” Qwest puts the box in my hands, eyes lit with anticipation. “Go ahead. Open it.”

It’s gotten quiet, and everyone’s conversations have died out as they watch and wait for me to open the box. When I pop open the lid, I’m nearly blinded by the bling.

“Shit.” My jaw drops. A diamond and platinum watch glints against the black velvet bed. “What the . . . Qwest, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I noticed you wearing this thing.” She gestures to the non-descript black watch I always wear. “And I knew I needed to light that wrist up.”

I bite back an objection when she undoes my old watch, which is made of nothing but cheap rubber and vivid memories. That day at the carnival, I won Bristol a whistle and she won me this no-name watch. We joked that they were the worst carnival prizes we’d ever seen, but I can count on one hand the times I’ve taken that watch off since that carnival. And now this mammoth, glittering hip-hop cliché is strapped to my wrist, and I already can’t wait to get home so I can shove it to the back of a drawer.

“I don’t know what to say.” I turn my arm back and forth, the overhead lights bouncing off the watch and making me squint. “It’s . .

. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Lemme see,” my mother says. She comes over, grabbing my arm and admiring the watch. “Ooooh, Erica. So nice.”

“Erica?” My eyes flick between my mother and Qwest.

“She told me to call her by her real name,” Ma crows. “Ain’t that sweet?”

“That’s great.” I look around on the floor and the couch, unreasonable panic ripping through me. “Where’s my watch?”

“What do you mean?” Qwest frowns, looking down at my wrist. “You’re wearing—”

“No, the other one.” I move her off my lap and bend to search the darkened floor. “The black one. It was just here. Where . . .”

It doesn’t take the strange looks from Qwest and Ma to know I sound like an idiot. I’ve barely glanced at the expensive new watch, but I’m on the verge of losing my shit because I can’t find some cheap watch no one would even want.

But I want it.

“Do you see it?” I ask my mother. “Check down by your feet.” “Baby, I don’t see it,” Ma says with a laugh. “But I doubt you’ll miss it.”

I don’t answer as I continue to scan the floor and couch around me.

“Got it!” Amir says from the floor on his hands and knees. “I guess it fell.”

He hands it back to me, and my heart slows. I almost had a stroke when I thought I’d lost the thing. Losing Bristol has left me in even more of a panic, only it isn’t evident on the surface. It’s like pins under my skin. Needles under my scalp.

Of all things, my stomach growls loudly. I frown and realize I’m starving.

“Do they have actual food here?” I ask no one and everyone. “Or is it all libation?”

“See he always had a way with words,” Ma brags, touching Qwest’s hand. “You know he started with poetry. Won a poetry contest in the sixth grade and has been writing ever since.”

“Ma, don’t,” I groan. I know she’s going to embarrass me. That’s a given. It’s just a matter of how much.

“I actually think I have a picture here.” She digs around in her purse and pulls out a falling-apart wallet. “Here we go.”

“I wanna see!” Qwest laughs and settles down beside my mother. “So do I.” Kai shoots me a wicked grin. She knows I hate this stuff. “Are there any naked baby pictures in there?”

“Food?” I repeat. “Is there any?”

“Why don’t we go back to the house?” Ma doesn’t look up from the stack of pictures ranging from toddlerhood to adolescence she must carry in her purse. “I could make chicken and waffles.”

“I vote for that,” Amir says, smacking his lips. “I haven’t had chicken and waffles in a long time.”

“Boy, you came by the house last week