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boy was inducted into the hall of fame while Marquan is continually ignored by the committee. It’s likethey want to punish him forever for his controversial persona during his playing days.”
    Cruze nodded. “Yeah, Marquan used to be a rebel. He broke all the rules.”
    â€œBut his youthful rebelliousness doesn’t negate what he did for the sport,” the woman said passionately. “The selection committee for the basketball hall of fame is an anonymous group. They don’t have to explain or publicly defend their decisions. There’s no transparency, and it’s completely unfair.” She exhaled in frustration and took a sip of her pastel-colored drink. “Marquan is a legend, and keeping him out of the hall of fame won’t change his stats or the electrifying magic he brought to the game.”
    â€œFacts. Marquan has a place in history, no matter what,” Cruze concurred.
    â€œI’m Lourdes Dunning, by the way. I’m with The Daily Grind .”
    Cruze wrinkled his brows.
    â€œThe Daily Grind is a hard-hitting news outlet,” she explained.
    â€œNever heard of it.”
    She pulled up the site on her phone and handed it to Cruze. He scanned the screen, noting that the lead story was something about Blac Chyna and Rob Kardashian. “Hard-hitting news, huh?” he said with a smirk and returned her phone. “I’m not really into the gossip blogs.”
    â€œWe’re a lot more than that. We cover politics, world news, sports . . . technology. But that’s beside the point; I was hoping you could help me out.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œWell, I already interviewed Bret Hollis about his North Philly program and his dream to expand HYPE to other deprived areas in the city. But I’m hanging around, trying to get an exclusive with Marquan Naylor.” She eyed Cruze intensely. “I noticed you and Marquan talking, and . . .”
    Cruze held up his hands. “I can’t help you. I don’t know dude like that—I just met him.”
    â€œDamn,” she muttered. “Okay, well, you had an opportunity to gauge his mood. In your opinion, do you think he’d be willing to talk to me tonight?”
    â€œI have no idea. If you’ve followed his career, you know he detests the media and refuses to give interviews.”
    â€œYeah, but maybe he’s changed with maturity. Hell, the way he’s been drinking nonstop, maybe he’s twisted enough to spill his guts to me.” She chugged down her drink and set the empty glass on the bar counter. “I’m going for it. Wish me luck.”
    Cruze watched with interest as Lourdes determinedly made her way across the room. Zooming in on her target, she speedily weaved in and out of the crowd. Her swift movements were impressive, and the kitten heels she was rocking suddenly made perfect sense.
    Still, despite her tenacity, Cruze doubted if she’d get an interview with Marquan Naylor.
    When the musical guest—a local rapper Cruze had never heard of—took the stage, Cruze ordered another drink and tuned out the noise emanating from the mic. Philly rappers couldn’t touch New York talent. Diverting his attention to his immediate surroundings, he noticed that quite a few hot mamas had flocked to the bar.
    During the next hour, he found himself surrounded by eye candy. Some struck up conversations and others sent him smoldering looks of lust. One chick, who was wearing the hell out of a very revealing, figure-hugging red dress with cut-out detail that showed off her ample boobs and midriff area, boldly sent him a drink. Her phone number was scrawled on the napkin. Out of all the women in close proximity, Skimpy Red Dress looked like the hottest piece of ass out of the bunch. He was about to go over and introduce himself when Lourdes suddenly came out of nowhere.
    â€œI got it!” Grinning, she held up a small recorder.