3. Brooke
Kodiaks Drop Early Season Game to Miami. Is This the Start of the Down Slide? Hoops News Has the Scoop.
* * *
Brooke: Shower and get your sorry asses through media. We’re going out.
Jay: Did you see the L? Last thing we need is a club night.
Clay: I’m hitting the gym.
Brooke: Come on, Chloe. Back me up.
Chloe: It’s not the worst idea.
Chloe: (That’s off the record. As a friend, not in my official capacity as Kodiaks head of PR.)
Jay: Obvs. It’s the BearFam chat, not the management chat.
Rookie: You’re only in here because Jay used to bang you.
Chloe: 1. I am a member of the Kodiaks organization, and you’re a second-year rookie, so I pull rank.
2. I used to bang Jayden. Not the other way around.
Rookie: I’m so in love right now.
Brooke: Finish your workout, shower off your gross AF selves, and get downtown.
Jay: No club. We’ll meet up at Mile High.
* * *
The Kodiaks loss is all over the news.
It’s a blow, but the team is taking it extra hard for so early in the season. They’re champions, and everyone expects them to win, including themselves.
The game looked like a close one, and I hate seeing my brother in a bad mood. Plus, I want a night off from thinking about my own problems.
Earlier today, I opened my laptop computer to look at my bank account for the first time in a while. It couldn’t be that bad. I’d probably saved a lot. Maybe I could get by for a year without my mom topping me up.
My stomach sank as I read through the numbers.
Without my mom’s help, I’d run out of money in less than thirty days.
I’d closed the tab and opened a new one, searching for information on my sorority sister Elise’s brand.
She’s a visionary. Her company makes clothes that are high end but insanely wearable and at price points more women can afford. They’ve expanded internationally at an unprecedented pace since Elise graduated two years ahead of me. Rumor has it she declined an offer to sell her business for five hundred million last year.
I love fashion. It’s my decoration and my armor.
Nova is a super talented artist, but it’s hard to carry a painting with you when you get on a plane or even through a tough day.
Almost anyone would say that I’m aiming high by trying to forge a partnership, but since Nova mentioned it, the idea won’t leave.
I researched whom Elise used to promote the brand in the past, what influencers have been wearing her clothing in their posts. While I was doing that, I found Elise herself tagged in another sister’s post.
The caption on Caroline’s photo, one where she’s embracing Elise, reads: Can’t wait to see my favorite sisters next weekend!
Our former chapter president made every overachiever in the sorority look like a slacker. She took the same etiquette classes I did but actually enjoyed them. Her social media is impeccable, every post with full makeup and not a blonde hair out of place.
In other words…
She’s exactly the type of influencer Elise would align herself with.
I dig an Alexander McQueen cocktail dress out of my closet and put it on with silver heels. Nova’s out of town for a gallery show, but at least Chloe’s in.
Mile High is the team’s unofficial bar. Nova’s husband, Clay, has been a part owner almost since the time he joined the Kodiaks.
The walls are papered with images of the team from over the years, newspaper articles, plus collector’s items like signed hats and jerseys under glass. Every starting player has a drink named after him.
It’s a casual spot where the team can sit alongside fans.
Right now, the place is just under capacity, probably owing to the midweek loss.
“Why’s everyone so freaked after a loss? It’s early,” I ask my brother.
“There are articles calling us one-hit wonders.”
“Show them you’re not.”
The entire starting line-up promised to come out, which is an accomplishment.
Clay will bail soon, heading home to whatever hundred-step conditioning routine over-thirty all-stars do to stay in shape. Rookie is chatting with Chloe. I haven’t seen Miles yet.
So, I have a moment alone with Jay.
“Unless you believe it too,” I prompt at his silence.
“Course not. But there’s no doubt we have a target on our backs.” He grimaces. “Last year, no one saw us coming. This year, they’re rolling out the welcome mat.”
Sierra slides us over drinks and my brother thanks her.
“But now you know you can do it,” I counter. “That’s better than most guys in the league can say.”
“You’re a good hype woman,” Jay says with a grin.
I raise a brow. “You’re just now realizing this?”
My attention cuts to the guys. Rookie’s laughing with Chloe. “They look cute.”
Jay pushes his drink back across the bar like he’s thought twice, reaching for a water instead. “Come on. You know it’s complicated between us.”
“Because she’s your ex. So she’s not allowed to date any of your teammates, ever?”
“Hell no,” he insists. “Keep the drama out of the locker room. Family is family.”
“Wait. Chloe’s family or the team is?”
“Both.”
“Whatever you say, big brother.” I pat him on the arm and head for the bathroom.
On my way, I spot a woman bent over double by the door. I pull up sharply.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She’s breathing normally, but her eyes are hazy.
I get her into the bathroom and hold her hair while she throws up twice.
“I swear I’m not that drunk, it’s just been a weird day,” she groans as she straightens.
“Don’t sweat it. I’m Brooke.”
“Lori.” She smiles weakly as we head out of the bathroom. “I’m here with my boyfriend, but we had a fight.” She nods toward a guy at one of the booths with blond hair and a flipped collar. He’s gripping an empty highball glass and surrounded by a few others, including some women he’s grinning at. “He’s not supposed to be drinking—he promised me he wouldn’t, because it’s not good when he does—but he’s already started. The thing is, he makes me feel like I’m the crazy one, and…” Her cheeks flush. “Sorry, I don’t need to dump this on you.”
“It’s okay. Don’t let him gaslight you.”
“Speaking from experience, huh?” She nods, not waiting for me to respond. “I think I’m going to go home.”
I walk outside with her and call an Uber on my account. She thanks me again as I put her inside the car.
“What did you do with my girlfriend?” a voice demands from behind me.
When I turn, I find myself toe to toe with the guy she pointed out earlier. “I helped her get home,” I say evenly.
“I say when it’s time to leave.” His eyes narrow, an ugly sneer on his face.
“Actually, she’s a grown woman who gets to decide things for herself, like when to leave and with whom.”
He mutters something under his breath that has my brows lifting.
It’s not until he shoves my shoulder, hard enough that I trip into the brick wall behind me, that I realize he could be more trouble than I thought.
A massive body shifts between us.
“You like your hands?” Miles’s voice is friendly.
“What?”
I can’t see Boyfriend-of-the-Year’s expression, but he sounds confused, irritated, and definitely more alert than he was a moment ago.
“I asked if you like your hands. Because if you want to keep them, you won’t touch her again.”
The other guy was clearly thinking of picking a fight, but when he sizes up exactly whom he’s dealing with, he changes his mind.
“Good plan,” I can’t resist calling around Miles’s shoulder as the other man slinks away.
My pulse pounds in my veins as I realize how close I came to getting injured. A twinge in my knuckles makes me look down to see a red scratch.
“You’re hurt,” Miles says as he turns, his bomber jacket brushing my arm.
“It’s only a scrape. I’ll rinse it off when I get home.” I wave him off. “You get worse every day on the court.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans for his wallet.
“You’re not fixing my scratch with a condom,” I protest, but he produces a Band-Aid.
Miles unwraps the strip and puts it carefully over the scrape, then swipes a thumb along my wrist. Warmth rushes along my skin.
“What would you have done if he didn’t back down?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder as we return to the bar. “You’re an NBA player. The golden boy, no less. You can’t hit a stranger in a bar.”
In my experience, Miles Garrett would sooner buy another guy a beer than threaten him.
“And you learned this because…?”
“You took me for pancakes once back in college.”
The year he and my brother got drafted to the NBA, Miles did pre-season prep at a minor league team close to my school. He dropped in more than a few times, mostly when Jay was around too, but one time he took me for breakfast.
“We snuck out around all the sorority sisters who organized Sunday morning runs,” I prompt when he doesn’t respond. “You picked me up and insisted on paying with all your rookie contract money.”
“Well, thank fuck I’ve gotten a raise since then.” Miles reaches for his wallet, and I wave him off.
“This one’s on me.” I buy the next round for both of us and take a sip of my cocktail. “I’m glad it was you out there tonight and not my brother.”
“Just at the right place at the right time.” He reaches for his drink, his huge hand swallowing up the glass. “Why not Jay?”
“He’d tell me not to be reckless. Most people give me shit for not thinking before I act.”
Miles surveys me, a slow look top to bottom. “Think I like you better when you don’t.”
A hum of electricity darts through me as he lifts his glass in a silent toast, then presses it to his lips. His throat throbs as he swallows.
Nearby, a group of Kodashians in a booth watch with envy. Each one of them would kill to be where I’m standing right now.
“Thanks.”
“For having your back?” Miles leans an elbow on the bar.
“No. For saying that.”
On impulse, I press up to kiss his cheek, catching his startled expression before I grab Chloe to come dance with me.