“Yeah, he is.” Jared glances at his phone. “Hey, I gotta go. Banner needs me. Probably for sex.”
“That’s my agent,” I grimace. “I don’t need to know that shit.”
“I fuck your agent all the time.” His grin is proud. “And this is totally normal. It’s baby hormones. Women get really horny sometimes when they’re pregnant.”
“Banner’s pregnant again?” August asks, mouth dropped open.
“Aw, hell.” Jared scrunches up his face. “She wanted to wait and tell you guys at Dad’s birthday party next month. Can you pretend to be surprised?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He brings Jared in for a quick hug. “Congrats, brother. You caught up with me.”
“If Banner gets her way,” he says, tilting a rueful smile, “and she always does, we’ll pass you soon.”
“I’m gonna go check on Iris, too,” August tells me once Jared has gone. “It’s not her first time being away from Sarai and David, and they’re with my mom, but she gets antsy.”
“Yeah, I’ll head to my room, too. Hanging over the side of the boat waiting and watching for them to arrive ain’t helping much.”
“Alsokinda gives off a stalker vibe.”
I level a glare at him.
“You’re really this into her after seeing her just a couple times?” he asks, smirking. “I mean, I fell for Iris fast, but it’s unusual for you.”
We walk along the deck toward the bank of stairs leading down to our rooms.
“It’s a little more complicated than that. I’ve kind of been tracking with her off and on through social media for years.”
“Jared would approve.” August chuckles.
“Not all the time—just checking on her every once in a while. It’s hard to explain, but we had this one night together.”
“Like a hook-up?”
“Nah, we were kids. Seniors in high school. We had this conversation on the roof of her house the night before the championship. We kissed, and I just knew we were supposed to be something to each other. I wasn’t sure what, but I believed that.” I shoot him a sheepish look as we take the stairs. “That probably sounds crazy, huh?”
“Not really.” August’s expression sobers. “I had that kind of conversation with Iris the night before the NCAA championship, and it changed the course of my life. I knew it would, even though I didn’t know how. So I get it.”
I absorb that information, not feeling quite as ridiculous knowing he experienced something similar. We continue down the passageway, the high-gloss wall paneling and plush carpet underfoot breathing luxury.
“You ever heard of Cliff Fletcher?” I ask, flicking him a sideways glance.
“Where do I know that name from?” August’s brows pinch into a frown. “Who’s he?”
“He was the biggest thing coming out of Texas high school basketball when I graduated.”
“Oh, hell. Yeah. Wasn’t he in that SportsCo documentary on flops and fails not too long ago?” August asks. “I remember because they highlighted Len Bias, and if his story ain’t a cautionary tale, I don’t know what is.”
Bias, who many pundits speculate would have been the only true rival to Jordan in that era, overdosed on cocaine two days after being drafted number two overall to the Celtics, becoming the highest draft pick to never play an NBA game. I can’t help but draw parallels between the fallen superstar and Cliff, considering the troubles with drugs Takira’s brother has experienced.
“That was some bullshit,” I say tightly. “Apparently that trash documentary sent Cliff into a spiral and…it was bad.”
“They said Fletcher’s been in and out of rehab. I remember Avery was pissed. Said that piece was bad journalism and tasteless.”
Avery, the wife of our president of basketball operations, is also a lead reporter on SportsCo, one of the biggest sports stations in the world.
“His fall was kind of my rise,” I say.
“Damn! That’s right. Now I remember. The punch.”