Never Say Never by Victoria Christopher Murray Read Free Book Online Page A

it, girl.”
    â€œAre you sure? I mean, I don’t want to start anything . . .”
    â€œOh, really? You don’t?” Michellelee took two steps back, then looked me up and down the way she’d just done Jamal. “That must be why you just painted on that dress, ’cause you don’t wanna start anything.” She shook her head. “But I ain’t mad at you. Go get yours.”
    Michellelee was right. I was wearing a Tadashi design that hugged every part of my six two frame. I didn’t have the hips that Michellelee swayed, or the behind that Miriam rocked. But I had boobs. And my girls were on full display in this dress with the V neckline that almost went all the way down to my navel.
    â€œOkay,” I told Michellelee. “I’m going for him.”
    When we stepped outside, the car horn blared and we knew it was Miriam. She was standing outside of Chauncey’s twelve-year-old Jeep when we rushed up.
    â€œCome on,” she said, “we’ve got to get going. You get in the middle.” She directed Michellelee to the backseat, where Jamal was sitting.
    Before Michellelee could move, I slid in. “I’ll sit in the middle.” I made sure not to look at Miriam because I knew she was giving me one of those looks that could take my life away.
    But there was nothing that Miriam could do. By the time she slipped into the front seat next to Chauncey, I was secure in my place. By the time we got to the Hollywood Palladium, Jamal and I were chatting as the friends that I hoped we’d be.
    â€œSo you agree with me about Bill Clinton,” I said as Jamal helped me out of the Jeep. We’d been talking about politics all the way over.
    â€œYeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong. He was my man before; I even did some work on his campaign. But with what’s going down now . . .”
    I grinned and turned to Michellelee with triumph all over my face. She just rolled her eyes. She’d been right. Jamal wasn’t her type. He had political sense.
    But the deal was sealed when we walked into the Palladium and Jamal helped me into my seat.
    â€œBy the way, how tall are you?” he asked. “About six two?”
    â€œGood guess.”
    He nodded. “So, do you model?”
    I sighed, wishing I had a hundred dollars for each time I’d been asked that question. Why in the world did people think every tall white girl was a model? It had to be the same disease that made everyone think every tall black guy was a basketball player. And since I was almost eye to eye with him in my three-inch heels, I was sure he’d had that question a lot in his life. So I decided to just give him a pass and answer.
    â€œNo modeling, but my height does come in handy. I play basketball.”
    He frowned. “With USC?” When I nodded, he held up his hand. “Wait a minute. You’re that Emily Harrington?” he asked, sounding amazed. I had been a highly recruited player from high school, so I wasn’t surprised that Jamal knew me—at least by name.
    â€œYes, how many Emily Harringtons did you think there were?”
    We laughed together.
    â€œAren’t you from Mississippi?” he asked.
    â€œI am. And you just got back from there, right?”
    The smile that he’d been wearing faded quickly and I was so sorry I’d asked.
    â€œYeah. I had to take care of some family business.”
    Wanting to get back to the happy place where we’d been, I changed subjects. “Do you play any sports?” I asked, getting dangerously close to that stereotypical question.
    But it worked because his grin came back quickly. “Yup. Basketball.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œI played at Crenshaw.”
    â€œCrenshaw High? They have an amazing reputation.”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œSo,” I began, “you didn’t want to play at the college level?”
    His smile went away again.