Page 68 of Full Court Press

“I don’t even watch that bullshit, so I’m unaware of the reference. But I didn’t run from her ass, if that’s what you’re implying. I ran from potential future problems. It wasn’t only about the attack; it was about his naysaying friends and Sabrina Murphy.”

“Sabrina Murphy? Sabrina Murphy. The owner of Revive?”

“That would be the one,” I confirmed.

“But you all worked together before. I thought you two were cool?”

“We have never been cool. Cordial? Yes. But it was only to get close to Quinton.”

“Quinton Williams? Your co-editor-in-chief?”

I nodded. After I exposed her in college, I never heard from or saw Sabrina again until I interviewed with her company two summers ago. When she saw me, she looked spooked and angry at the same time. But she didn’t blow up or turn me away like I thought she would and allowed me to interview her for my Pulse magazine piece.

At first, I wasn’t going to backstab her. I wanted to let bygones be bygones, and she agreed, making it seem as though our being adversaries was over. But when I overheard her tell her partner that she wanted to try to sabotage my career, I got to her first by snatching her best editor for her magazine.

“Wooow.” Shina dragged. “You are cutthroat. I love it! Fuck that snooty bitch. She was the one who fired me when I was an intern, so I’m glad you got Quinton on your team.”

“It wasn’t easy, but with a few extra coins and a guaranteed partnership, I knew he couldn’t refuse.”

“Yeah, well, you have my word that I won’t play matchmaker. Although I think it’s fate that you all will be in the same room together after ten years. This is something like a ten-year college reunion. Anniversary for you guys, if you will.”

The fact that she said anniversary was wild.

“Shina,” I said in a warning tone.

“Okay, fine. Meanie. Let’s just go and have a good time, please?”

“We’ll see,” I mumbled as she continued to our destination.

“Kiy! Come on, we gotta go!” I yelled up the stairs to my slower-than-molasses daughter. I swear, the older she got, the more time she took getting ready for the day.

I blamed her damn auntie.

Kyani made it her mission to brainwash my kid with fashion tips and making it a mission to make sure she was on point with her hygiene and beauty regimen. Although I appreciated that wholeheartedly, Kiyanne made us late every single day because she couldn’t miss any steps in getting ready.

A ten-year-old should never take almost two hours to get ready.

“I’m coming, Dad!” she yelled back, finally coming down the stairs. She was dressed in her blue and yellow Detroit Vipers jersey, light denim jeans, and blue and yellow Nikes. The diamond necklace, earrings, and bracelet complemented her look, with a small, blue Glamaholic backpack purse.

Tonight, I was being honored as the MVP at the gala, so her attire wasn’t what I had chosen for her earlier.

“Really?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest and holding her gaze.

“What? I had to find my bracelet.” She shrugged.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Kiy.”

“I didn’t feel like getting dressed up, Dad. You said I have freedom of choice, no?”

I failed to mention that she also had a smart mouth that wasn’t disrespectful but would make someone feel as though she was disrespectful, even though she was a sweetheart.

“I did, but you know what tonight is. What was wrong with putting on the dress? We’re not going to a basketball game, mi corazón.”

“I know. I just want to be comfortable.”

I sighed and tossed my palms up. “Fine. We don’t have time for you to go change, so let’s roll.” I grabbed my belongings, shut down the lights, and set the alarm before we headed out the door.

“Oh, snap! We’re riding in that?” Kiy exclaimed, rushing over to the sleek, black Bentley Bentayga Hybrid I had just purchased the day before. My driver, Tyrone, emerged to open the door for her.