Page 152 of Can't Get Enough

“That was the last interview,” Skipper says over speakerphone. “CNN andForbesin the morning.”

“If I have to explain why this case is ridiculous and baseless one more time. Ugh. The fact that the judge completely ignored historical context—”

“Okay, champ. Save it for the cameras,” Skipper says dryly. “Wind down and take a breather. We got a marathon ahead of us over the next few months.”

The word “months” grates because instead of assisting the women who need help starting businesses, we’re using our resources to defend ourselves against this idiocy, hands tied and unable to give away one red cent.

“You’re right. I need to put today behind me so I’ll be ready for tomorrow.” I sniff the air. “I think the church meal train arrived. I smell something cheesy and gooey that’ll sit on these hips.”

“Your last week there, huh?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Aunt G is getting around even better than the doctor anticipated. At her last checkup, he said she was healing well. I’ll be back in the A getting on your nerves this time next week.”

“Not at all.” She pauses and then speaks in a rush. “Thanks again, by the way, for encouraging me to give Bolt a shot. When they get back from Tokyo, he’s coming to Atlanta for our date.”

“Niiiiiiiice. Happy for you.”

“Happy for you,” she counters playfully. “You and Mav are like dialed up to ten. You could barely keep your hands off each other. It was awkward.”

I bust out laughing and shake my head. “The way you found the audacity to say that to me when you literally fucked Bolt at a basketball game.”

“Will I never live that down?”

“Do you think I should let you?”

“Not actually, no,” she says, laughing.

Another call flashes up and I lean forward to peer at the screen on my desk. “Oh, it’s Kashawn. Gotta go.”

I end one call to pick up the other.

“Shawn, hey. What’s up?”

“You watching TV?

“Trying not to.” I walk toward the living room. “Why? What should I be watching?”

“Someone leaked the names of the businessmen funding CFE.”

“What?” I turn on the television. “Where?”

She tells me which station is reporting and I flip there as fast as I can.

The reporter is reading off a bunch of names I don’t recognize, but many of the companies they lead or are associated with I do.

“One very interesting note,” the reporter says, lifting her brows as she stares into the camera. “Andrew Carverson, owner of the Vegas Vipers, is reported to be one of the big donors. Tech mogul Maverick Bell is in the final phases of buying the Vipers.”

A photo of Maverick holding me on the courthouse steps appears on-screen. My heart is a kick drum in my chest and my breath suspends while I wait for these pieces to fit together.

“Speculation about his romantic relationship with one of the Aspire Fund defendants, Hendrix Barry, began when he was seen here with her.”

“Shit,” I mutter, forgetting Kashawn is even on the phone until she speaks.

“What’s up with Mav and Carverson?” she demands. “Did Mav know about this? Buying that team basically puts money in this man’s pockets. Why would he—”

“I don’t know, Shawn,” I say, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “This is the first I’ve heard of it, too. I’ll get to the bottom of it, but that deal is important to Mav. He’s been planning it for years, owning this team.”

“More important than you?” Kashawn asks. “Because Mav’s about to give one of the men trying to shut us down a shit ton of cash.”

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