Page 163 of Can't Get Enough

“I travel so much, my body is on whatever time zone I’m in,” I tell her, sliding across the bed to kiss the curve of her neck. “Besides, I’ve been here in Atlanta for two days. Doesn’t take long to adjust.”

“Thank you for coming.” She leans back and cups my neck, resting her head against mine. “I’m glad you’re here while I sort through all this stuff. I never thought we’d actually be selling Mama’s house, but here we are.”

“She doing okay?” I take advantage of her position and drag her back into bed.

“Mav,” she laughingly protests, but shuffles to sit beside me until both of our backs are pressed into the headboard. “She’s getting there. Having Aunt Geneva’s support helped. I mean, telling her it was time to leave that house was one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do.”

Her expression sobers and she takes my hand, resting our linked fingers in her lap. “But it has to happen. Being there while Aunt Geneva recovered just showed me that the situation was no longer sustainable.”

“But now she’s selling the house. Moving, both her and Aunt G. I’m proud of you, baby. This is hard shit. I watched my mom negotiate it. You’re a good daughter.”

“God, I’m trying.” She whooshes out a long sigh. “I’m consulting with her doctor and getting advice from people in my support group who have relocated their loved ones. Some of them declined badly, and some of them did okay. It’s a risk, but I’m going to do everything I can to make this transition good for her. Or as good as it can be.”

“You know there are no guarantees, though, right?” I ask, gently caressing her thumb. “Moving is a huge disruption.”

“You think it’s the wrong thing to do?” she asks, anxious eyes finding mine.

“No, it’s not that. I just want you to be prepared for how hard it could be—the effect it could have. There is no easy solution in this.”

“We’re bringing all her stuff and I’m taking pictures of everything so we can replicate her setup as much as possible. Make it familiar.” She shrugs, worry tugging her brows together. “I know she didn’t want to leave her home, but I’m hoping she’ll love the new house I have here for us all.”

“You got this, and anything you need, you know I’m here.”

“You’ve done a lot,” she says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for helping me find our new place. It’s fantastic.”

“I got the best Realtor money can buy, and I’m glad he could help.” I shrug. “Not that he had to look too far. The house was right here in Skyland.”

She beams and tightens her hand around mine. “Just a few blocks from Yasmen and Soledad. It’s perfect for Mama and me and Aunt G.”

“It’s all coming together.” I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer.

She looks up at me, her lips tipping to one side in a wry half grin. “Now if we could just get this shit with CFE settled. I swear they’re dragging this out as long as possible. We’ve still got months before our case is even heard, and in the meantime we can’t award any grants.”

“I know, but we’ll keep at it. And at least you’re still working with your founders, helping Black women get their businesses off the ground in the venture space. We’ll get the grants back online soon enough.”

“What about you?” She pulls away far enough to study my face. “Any updates on Carverson?”

“We’re chipping away at him.” I suppress fresh anger at the thought of pulverizing Andrew. “A single employee coming forward to expose his misogynistic treatment of women is one thing, but several coming forward? And enough marginalized employees to establish a pattern ofracist behavior, coupled with him trying to tear down an organization serving Black women? That shit don’t look good.”

“Public opinion has definitely started turning against him,” Hendrix says. “So what’s the next move?”

My phone flashes on the bedside table. I peer over to check the name displayed on the screen.

“Here’s my next move now.” I steal one last kiss before answering the phone. “Kenan, whassup?”

“Good news,” Kenan Ross replies from the other end. “I met with several owners today about the Carverson situation.”

“And?” I ask, tensed waiting for his response.

“They’re ready to file a formal complaint and pressure him to sell the team.”

“Yes.” I pump my fist and grit out a hard smile. “Think it’ll work?”

“The owners, coupled with several prominent players like August West speaking out against him, yeah. A league of overwhelmingly Black players aren’t standing for this bullshit vendetta Carverson’s helping finance against a venture capital fund run by Black women for Black women.”

“Good. We’ve been working the sponsor angle. I’ve got at least three of the Vipers’ largest sponsors prepared to speak out this week and threaten to withdraw financial support if leadership doesn’t demand Andrew step down and sells his shares.”

“Think all this will be enough?” Kenan asks.

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