I knocked on the door to Malcolm's hotel suite. The door pulled open, and I was met with Cameron. He was clad in a purple button-down—Laker's purple, to be exact—and a simple pair of slacks.

"Perfect. This is exactly what I told the stylists I was looking for," I spoke as I stepped into the room. "Where's our boy?" My head swiveled around the main room, Malcolm nowhere to be found.

"He's in the other room looking at himself. They just finished getting him ready," Cameron informed. "I should warn you, though. If this—"he gestured to himself, "Is the look you're going for, Malcolm might not meet the standard."

My eyebrows furrowed in questioning. I told them Cameron and I needed to coordinate gold and purple, and Malcolm would wear something that was an obvious yet tasteful mix of both. Nothing too old for him, of course, but nothing too informal at the same time. And, seeing as Cameron and I were delivered outfits that fit the bill, I don't understand how they could have missed the mark with Malcolm.

I asked, "Well, what did they put him in then?"

Just as the question surpassed my lips, a door opened, and Malcolm stepped out from behind it. My eyes took him in, them immediately sticking to the sleeveless Laker's jersey he was wearing. As they rolled down to his lower half, I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw ripped skinny jeans on his legs.

I scanned the rest of the room, me just now noticing the clothing rack holding a few outfits I had selected tucked away between the window and the bed. It was totally forgotten. I took a breath and closed my eyes. I let a moment pass before I released the air, plastered on a smile, and looked to Cameron.

"Why is he dressed like it's wear your favorite jersey day for spirit week?"

That earned a chuckle from Cameron, but he composed himself with a cough as he took in my eerily calm demeanor. "Um, is the excuse that it was too hot outside valid?"

I exclaimed, "He's wearing jeans!" I heard the bustle behind me stop, and I felt several gazes fall on me. I turned to the crowd with a sheepish look and gave a small wave.

"Miss Kiara!" Malcolm called. He shooed away the women fussing over him before he walked over to Cameron and me. "You're here, so that means we're ready to roll out, right?"

"Yeah, real soon," I answered with a slight nod. "But what's this?" I gestured at his attire. "You didn't like any of the outfits I had pulled for you?"

"Oh nah, they're all great, Miss Kiara," he dismissed with the wave of his hand. "It's kinda hot to be wearing dressy clothes. And I already had this 'fit picked out; my mama helped." His lips were pulled into a sweet smile. I swear I saw a sparkle in his eyes as he looked down at Nike's Mamba Focus 'Lakers' sneakers.

Malcolm was called away, and, as he left, I turned to Cameron and gritted out through an easygoing smile, "I'm not gonna be able to get him to change, am I?"

"I'll help you work out how to spin this on the way," Cameron offered.

We arrived at the service and headed straight inside. Malcolm questioned whether he should talk to the media covering the event, but I advised against it. It'd be better to make a statement after the service when there are things to reflect on, rather than before where it could be misconstrued that he's trying to "steal the spotlight."

The memorial service passed with stunning performances and words spoken by family and friends. I'd never had the pleasure of meeting Kobe personally, but friends I have who had always spoken highly of him.

Sniffles could be heard throughout the service. Person after person came up and offered kind words for the late basketball legend. Malcolm was a source of sniffles, his head turned away from Cameron and me as he attempted to hide his tears.

"You don't have to hide that you're crying," I whispered as I leaned towards Malcolm. "It's okay to be sad about losing your idol, especially at a memorial service in his honor."

Malcolm's teary eyes met mine. I offered him a warm, gentle smile and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He returned the gesture before he fixated his eyes on the speaker before us.

The service ended and, with the headspace that Malcolm was currently in, Cameron and I both decided it would be best to head straight back to the hotel. He was no longer his sweet self. Instead, he appeared more reserved and in his head. We didn't want to overwhelm him; he was only seventeen and relatively new to the game, after all. Besides, any interview he'd do in the next couple months would touch on the subject.

The rest of the day passed, and I found myself winding down in bed, my scarf on and my body snuggled under the covers. My phone was plugged into the charger in the lamp's base on the nightstand, the glow lighting up my face in the dark room.

"Si, why do you need to borrow something from my closet?" I asked with a questioning look. "Mine's a little outdated, not to mention you have a walk-in!"

Sienna walked over her phone on the floor, her long black waves falling into her face as she looked into the camera. "Because Ara! You know it's nicest in the Maldives right now, and you have the best swimsuit collection out of all my friends." She walked away from her phone to continue rummaging through my closet. "And your closet—which is also a walk-in— isn't as outdated as you think."

"First, remind me to revoke your key," I stated with the roll of my eyes. "And secondly, I may splurge a little but—"

"A little?" Sienna voiced, her tone disbelieving. A moment of silence passed before she held up a salmon trench coat. "This is from last year's Versace Fall-Winter collection."

I looked at Sienna's face, her eyebrows raised as she pursed her lips. My eyes darted around the room, them finding nothing in the darkness. My lips pulled to the side, a guilty expression on my face. Sure, I had just purchased the coat a couple months ago, but I just had to have it!

"I swear you bounce and forth between playing poor and being rich." Sienna scoffed as she returned the coat to its proper place.

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. "Playing?"

"Okay, maybe not playing," Sienna backpedaled. "All I mean is that you are still very much wealthy, Ara. You may not be as rich as before, but you could quit your job today and still be good for the rest of your life. Probably two or three lives, honestly."

The conversation halted as a sound of triumph left Sienna, leading me to assume she found the perfect swimsuit. She set one of my swimsuits to the side, it draping over the camera and leaving me in the dark.

"Do you have a matching coverup for it?" Sienna questioned, our previous conversation tabled.

"You know I do. It's probably in the drawer underneath where you found it," I guided.

"Bet," she said before the screen switched from darkness to paused. "But hey, Desiree is calling me, so I'll hit you later." She hung up before I could get a word out.

I took a deep breath and clicked my phone off, my mind wandering back to Sienna's words. I know I wasn't down bad, but did I really bounce back and forth between acting poor versus wealthy? When Sunshine Suites was still in business, I was able to buy designer clothes every day, not just when I really wanted something. And we had a private jet, but now I have to settle for first class. Not to mention Mama and Pops had a cleaning service in the mansion every other day, while I can only afford it once a week.

As I continued to list off all the inconveniences, Jeremiah's voice echoed through my mind saying the average person doesn't fly first class or have someone cleaning for them. Not only that, but being able to spare thousands of dollars wasn't a luxury that everyone had. Maybe my perception of how much I really had was off...

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I placed my phone on the nightstand and clicked on the light. I made my way to the door and pulled it open, Cameron on the other side clad in his pajamas with a champagne bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.

He asked, "You tryna drink?" He looked over at the bottle. "I figured we earned it."

"I'm always down to get drunk." I opened the door wider as an invitation. "You know, I'm surprised you wear a bonnet to bed," I said with a giggle, the door shutting behind me.

"I can never tie my durags right, and they always fall off when I'm sleeping," he explained as he poured us some champagne.

"How are you..." I trailed, thinking twice and deciding against saying anything. "You know what? Nevermind." I took my glass and took a sip.

"Nah, what?" He pressed with narrowed eyes. "You were about to be a hater, weren't you?"

A manicured hand rested on my chest as my eyes widened in disbelief. "Me? A hater?" He narrowed his eyes further. "Okay, fine. I was about to hate a little, but I just ain't never seen a man wear a bonnet before!"

He took an inquisitive sip of his drink before asking, "Your boyfriend don't wrap his hair up at night?"

"Nah," I dismissed with the loose wave of my hand. "Jeremiah's whole bed setup is satin everything, and he'll bring his own pillowcase to mine."

"Not his own pillowcase," Cameron teased before finishing the rest of his champagne. He quickly grabbed the bottle and graced his glass with a refill before leaning over on the bed and topping mine up.

"Swear!" I confirmed with a sip of my own drink. "He gets hella hot when there's something on his head. And he hates being hot."

Cameron nodded smally before throwing out a "Makes sense."

A silence settled between us as we sipped on our champagne. Cameron and I have been working together for a little bit, but we hadn't really gotten to know each other. We only spoke when something was going on with Malcolm, as colleagues should. But, we were probably gonna be working together for a minute; it'd be best to make friends, right?

"So, how long have you and Celeste been together?" I asked to break the silence. "Y'all are engaged, right?"

A small smile graced Cameron's lips as they curled around his glass. "Five years and some change," he revealed. "And yeah, we've been engaged for a couple months now and, between you and me?"

"Between you and me," I echoed conspiratorially.

"I can't wait for that woman to become my wife," he admitted with a dreamy smile. "She comes off as cold and sort of, well, bitchy, but I swear when those walls come down, she's one of the sweetest and funniest people you'll meet."

"Really?" I took a sip of my drink before my lips pulled into a thoughtful pout. "I don't think I've heard Celeste laugh before."

"Yeah, she has some pretty stupid humor," he chuckled. "But stupid in a good way."

"Ugh, I wish Jeremiah had stupid humor," I confessed. "Unfortunately, he finds amusement in annoying the hell out of me." Although I hate that's how he entertains himself, the affectionate smile on my face told a different story.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kiara," Cameron started, a careful look on his face. "But, you seem like you would find annoying him funny too."

I nodded slowly and finished my drink. I picked up the bottle and poured as I admitted, "You're right." I tilted the bottle towards Cameron as an offering. "At least it's fun for me to annoy him back," I shrugged.

"True," he nodded. "Here's to our partners?" He raised his glass to offer a toast.

"To Celeste and Jeremiah," I voiced as I clinked my glass against his. "But hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Cameron encouraged.

"Do you hear Celeste in your head sometimes? 'Cause my homegirl got me thinking earlier, and Jeremiah popped in to check my thoughts," I said with a chuckle.

Cameron nodded his head vigorously. "Oh, absolutely." A sip of his drink followed before he continued, "She would never let me do or say anything stupid so, whenever I'm considering doing something stupid, her voice'll pop up." Another sip. "And she always keeps me from doing something dumb." He raised his finger in the air.

I hummed in response as I gulped down the rest of my champagne. I lifted the bottle from the ground, disappointed to find it empty. "It seems we've finished the bottle."

"But I don't feel tipsy or anything?" Cameron noted with pinched eyebrows.

"Neither do I," I agreed. "Do we need to stand up?"

"Probably." Cameron stood and almost instantly started swaying back and forth. "There it is. So, with that, I'm gonna go call my fiancé and knock out."

"Felt that," I said with a nod. "Ima call my boyfriend and knock out." I moved the champagne bottle to the nightstand as I said, "This was fun, though. We should do this on every trip we take."

"That's a bet," Cameron agreed. "But, I am struggling, so I'm gonna head out." He dragged his way over to the door and gave a lazy two-finger salute before making his exit.

I snuggled back under the covers as the FaceTime call to Jeremiah rang. He picked up on the third ring. The bright white of his background hurt my eyes as they adjusted from the darkness.

"Baby, I know you're not working at two in the morning," I chastised after my eyes adjusted.

"Hey, Kiara. Nah, I'm doing alright, a little tired from work but nothing too serious. How are you?" Jeremiah greeted.

I rolled my eyes. "You always do that."

He continued his conversation with himself. "I'm glad the memorial went well. Sounds like you celebrated by the way you struggled to say always."

I decided to join in, knowing good and well he would continue to talk to himself. "Yeah, Cameron popped up with a bottle of champagne and we accidentally crushed the whole thing."

I noticed Jeremiah's eyes flick from the computer screen he was looking at to his phone at the mention of Cameron. He stayed silent, however. He knows I'll shut down anything he says that even suggests I'm cheating on him; he knows better than that. But still, I found myself quelling his jealousy.

"Cam and I thought we'd get to know each other more since we've been working together for a minute now. He was telling me all about his fiancé and stuff like that," I subtly assured.

"Oh, that's what's up," he responded, his shoulders falling somewhat.

"But I take it your day didn't go as planned? It's hella late to be working."

Jeremiah pushed back from the desk, the chair he was in gliding back and closer to the camera. He dragged a hand down his face before his elbow rested on the desk. "You don't even know the half of it, baby."

"So, tell me about it," I offered.

And tell me he did. Until I fell asleep, anyways.