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“No. It doesn’t make any sense.” I picked up the fresh glass of orange juice. I was starting to feel a little drained.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t like sitting on the sidelines.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like it when other people make decisions for me. If I were you, I’d tell your brother the fight is over before it even starts. Scare him off.”
I twisted my lips together. “You think it’s that easy? He wants a billion-dollar franchise. Ghost stories aren’t going to work.”
“Ghost stories might not, but reality might.” Dylan winked. “Let me know how it goes. I’ve got to get to that meeting.”
I ran after him at the door. “Wait.”
“What is it?”
I threw my hands around his neck. “I love you.”
He laughed. “Love you too.”
As soon as Dylan was gone I looked around my office. It hadn’t been an easy journey to get here. I had cried. I had sleepless night. Nights when I was so scared I didn’t know if I could make it work the next day. I started with a fifty-year old broken desk and now I was surrounded by beautiful art. I looked at the watercolor of us.
It was the only thing that mattered in this world—my true family. I pressed my palm to my stomach. “Ok, baby. Daddy number two is right. We’re going to fight for the Warriors because this team is going to be yours one day, if you want it.” I smiled. “You don’t have to have it. I won’t force you to have it, but I’m going to fight so you can make that decision—not your crazy uncle.”
I picked up my pink leather bag and marched to the elevator.
Candy called after me. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“No.” The doors started to close. “I’ll be out for a while.”
Forty-Four
Vanessa
Something felt off when I climbed the steps to my grandmother’s house. Gretchen wasn’t smiling. She had an odd look on her face.
“Hi, Gretchen.”
“They’re in the Warriors room.” She looked down and closed the door, taking two quick steps before she disappeared.
The Warriors room was what we called the room my grandfather had decorated with every piece of Warriors memorabilia collected since the team’s creation. Rugs, curtains, lamps, coasters. If they made something with the Warriors logo on it—it was in that room. As a kid, I thought it was fun. As an adult, I thought it was the height of tackiness.
I walked to the back of the house. I heard arguing. Their voices were getting louder. My grandmother was practically screeching.
“Grammy? Danny?” I looked between them.
“Nessa,” my grandmother called, trying to change the tone of her voice. I pretended I hadn’t heard them shouting two seconds ago. She scurried past the Warriors bookcase and presented her cheek for me to kiss.
“We didn’t know you were stopping by. It’s good you’re here.”
“Is it a bad time?” I asked.
I hadn’t seen them since last week. Danny’s unusual appearance in my office was the last visit.
“No, come on in, sis. Gram and I were just discussing my inheritance.”
“I’m not Gram,” she scolded. “It is Grammy and has been since you were born.”
“Gram, Grammy. We’re adults. Why can’t I say Clementine?”
