Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,97

mother have been planning since they compared ultra- sounds almost thirty years ago: my “pending” nuptials to Parker.

“We need to have you up to the house in the Hamptons, Bris.” Aunt Betsy caresses the diamond at her neck. “Maybe next weekend?”

“I’m really busy right now.” I smile politely instead of telling her that I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever marry her son. She’ll soon see. “One of the artists I manage is about to drop his first album.”

“Oh, well isn’t that nice?” She sips her Mimosa.

Between Mother’s Bloody Mary, Aunt Betsy’s mimosas, and the pictures stacking up of Grip and his “queen”, I could use a drink. I’m caving and ordering a vodka tonic. Life’s too short and too tough not to.

“Bristol, over here!” someone yells from the hostess stand at the restaurant entrance.

Here we go. A camera flash makes me blink a few times. When I look back , the photographer is gone. Great. I could write the caption myself: “Bristol Gray, manager to the stars, brunches with future mother-in-law.”

I pretend not to see the smug looks of satisfaction the two conspirators exchange. On second thought, forget the drink. Vodka got me into this mess. More vodka won’t get me out.

Chapter 13

GRIP

EVEN THOUGH I was only here my freshman year before transfer- ring to the School of the Arts, my old high school in Compton feels like home. As early as elementary school, Jade and I watched Greg and Chaz play football on Friday nights. Chaz was already dealing by then, already banging, but he was such a gifted athlete. Football was the last thing tethering him to school. Otherwise, he probably would have dropped out long before. Only blocks away from where Chaz died, the ink scripting his name into my arm seems to burn.

“Man, these kids are so crunk to see you today,” Amir, my “security guard,” says from his spot on the wall of the gymnasium beside me.

Since Amir worked airport security for years, he was a natural choice when Bristol insisted I have some kind of protection. I don’t need security, but it means Amir and I get to hang all the time, and it puts him on my payroll instead of someone else’s.

“Yeah. I’m pretty stoked to be here.”

I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans, studying the kids assembled. Shondra, the teacher who coordinated this assembly, told them we could do autographs after and to give me some space. I’m using this time to mentally rehearse the things I want to tell them. Things I wish someone had told Chaz. Or at least things I wish he’d listened to.

Shondra crosses the gym floor, twisting her hips like she has since the eighth grade. Only now she wears a skirt and silk blouse around those thick thighs and round hips instead of the booty shorts and oversize earrings she sported growing up. Her natural hair fans out in a curly afro around her pretty face. I watch Amir watching Shondra. He always crushed hard on her.

“When you gonna make your move?” I bump his shoulder with mine. “It’s been years. Man up.”

“I know you ain’t talking.” Amir reluctantly drags his gaze from Shondra’s twisting hips to meet my eyes. “After you punked out and ran off to New York to get away from Bristol.”

The teasing grin freezes on my face. The disadvantage of Amir working for me is the same as the advantage. He’s around all the time. He sees a lot.

“I wasn’t running away from anything.” I shoot him a frown. “You telling me you wouldn’t jump at the chance to spend two days and nights with Qwest? Any man would.”

“Yeah, but ‘any man’ hasn’t been stuck on Bristol forever.” His face crinkles with a laugh at my expense. “You have.”

“Was stuck. Past tense. I’m over it. She ain’t the only girl in the world.”

But she was the only girl I could think about. Even waking up with Qwest in New York, Bristol occupied my mind as soon as my eyes opened. I still feel her hand over my heart. I think it’s branded there in acid.

“Please,” Amir scoffs. “I was there when you met Bristol. The

way you looked at her that day at the airport, I ain’t ever seen you look at anybody else like that.”

He pauses for emphasis, brows up in the air “Not even Qwest,” he adds. “She’s a great girl, but she isn’t your

girl.”

“Neither is Bristol.” My teeth clench around the words. “Haven’t you heard? She’s