Page 3

One year later ...

I walked through the tunnels leading from my office to the gym. Today whooped my ass, between seeing both teams for their physicals to the constant ringing of my phone. I was ready to call it a night, but it was only seven. I’d never complain about my job because I loved it but I was tired as hell. Music blasted through the tunnels, and I chuckled; if music played, then Mercy DeCorte or Givens Robbins were putting in work. Mercy’s AAU team had called it a night a little while ago, but that didn’t mean that Mercy was done working out yet.

“You look like I don’t pay you enough,” Pyrite said, coming from his office and heading in my direction. I stopped, adjusted my shorts, and shrugged. His twisted expression dropped, and he chuckled. “Which player pissed you off?”

“None,” I denied with a shake of my head. “Just tired.”

“Then head home,” he replied with a nod. “I pay you to ensure my players are cared for, but that doesn’t mean you should be neglected.”

“Nigga, I don’t need you telling me what I already know,” I laughed. “I’m heading out soon; where are you going?”

“To pick up my payment from Javien,” he answered with a slight smirk. “Nigga been hiding out since he got patched up, but it pays to have friends in high places.”

“ Cross found him, didn’t she?” I questioned him, and he nodded. “How much is his payment now?”

“His life,” he humorlessly laughed. “I’ll have a few player's files on your desk in the next few days to fill his spot.”

“St. Thomas is cool with that?” I lifted my brow in question. Xayne St. Thomas had already put a bug in our ear to steer clear of Javien, and if he’d relinquished that hold, then that meant any of us could go after him. Pyrite catching him first was probably his safest bet.

“Xayne called me an hour ago and said he’d give me a two-hour head start over Xoey,” Pyrite answered with a shrug.

“Two hours ain’t shit when it comes to Xoey’s crazy ass,” I said, and Pyrite nodded. There were few niggas I feared on his earth and even less women, but Xoey St. Thomas was on the top of both lists. She was deadly as fuck with an innocent look to her. I’d seen her kill niggas then step over their bodies and ask her daddy to buy her a snack. “You better start moving.”

“I’m headed to my plane now,” he replied.

“Bet.” We dapped up, and Pyrite headed out.

I did a couple of laps around the tunnels to get my blood flowing, and then I headed back to my office to finish the last of my reports. As the team’s doctor, I took a lot of pride in ensuring the players for the Queens and Kings were in top shape. I dropped into the chair behind my desk and leaned back. I had maybe a good two hours left, and then I was heading home.

“Hey, Hood,” my assistant, August, called out as he stood in the doorframe of my office. He was a young nigga, still in high school, but he was also the baby brother of my boy, December. August was hardheaded and needed to get his shit together. Coming here was his last resort, and if December got his hands on his baby brother, I knew he’d never underestimate him again. December had a lot of niggas fooled; they thought because he was going blind that he was a weak nigga. It was the furthest thing from the truth.

“You had a visitor while you were gone.”

“Who?” I sat back in my head and swayed from side to side. I let very few people into my office, and everyone knew it.

“Faylin,” he answered with a smile, and I shook my head. August's nose was wide open for my niece, and he had no idea how much more danger he’d put himself into. The streets didn’t have shit on what would rain down on him for stepping to Faylin. “She was with Legacy.”

I sat forward, resting my elbows on my desk, and tented my hands in front of my mouth. Legacy Glover held my attention more than anyone else I’d ever encountered; she didn’t fuck with a nigga like that, though. She told me straight out that I was not her speed, and no lie, it had my ass stuck for a few days. Then, it was like a flipped switch, and I wanted her even more.

“Look at your light skin ass smiling,” August laughed, and I grilled him. “You got it bad for that girl. She is fine and can hoop, but you know how females are. They want the weak niggas. Not the grown men.”

“Watch your mouth, lil nigga,” I said, standing. August squared his shoulders, and I let out a humorless laugh. December was going to have to plan his brother’s funeral soon if he thought for one second, he was going to step to me like a grown-ass man. “That is one I’ll go to war over.”

“She ain’t even looking your way,” August said, waving me off. “She is dating that teacher.”

“What teacher?” I questioned him, and he smirked. From what I could tell, Legacy wasn’t in a relationship or paying any niggas attention. She was focused on coaching her AAU team and preparing for her upcoming season. “What teacher, August?”

“The brown nigga that comes in with the twins on her team.” He shrugged, and my mind returned to the players on her team and their parents. I knew who the twins were, but from what I’d seen, their Mama always dropped them off. “I saw him around the last two weeks when I was waiting on Faylin to finish so we could hoop.”

“What you know?” I sat and ran my tongue over my teeth. August smiled, and I kissed my teeth. “You tell me what you know, or I call Givens and Mercy up here and tell them that you’re sniffing behind their about-to-be sixteen-year-old daughter, and you just turned eighteen last week.”

“Romeo and Juliet law,” he laughed, and I shook my head. “I looked that shit up, I’m still in high school.”

“They bullets not gonna care.” I shrugged, then picked my phone up from the desk.

“Hood, wait!” he called out, and I looked up to see him with a panicked look on his face. His ass wasn’t as tough as he tried to pretend that he was. He ran his hand over his hair and shook his head. “I can’t believe you got me snitching and shit.” He kissed his teeth as if what I asked went against a street code. “Alright, so that nigga been slidin’ in here sniffin’ behind yo old lady. The twins told Faylin he wants to take her on a date.”

“When?”

August wiped his hand over his face and shook his head. “Hood, I don’t know that shit, man.”

“Find that shit out,” I said, shaking my head. “You smiling in my niece's face every chance you get, make yourself useful.” August grilled me like he was about that life, and I stood again. If he wanted to test me, then it wouldn’t be a problem for me to lay his young ass out. I rounded my desk, leaned against it, and crossed my arms. “You got a problem with what the fuck I said?”

“I ain’t no errand boy,” he said, shaking his head. “If you worried who sniffing around the point guard, then step to that nigga.”

“You think I’m not?” I chuckled.

“Not if you are stepping to me,” he denied. I nodded and pushed off my desk. August squared his shoulders when I approached him, and I laughed as I patted him on the chest.

“Call your brother or sister-in-law and ask about me.” I fixed the collar of his shirt and then brushed his shoulders. “If I were worried about you, then me stepping to you would result in your death,” I smirked. “Don’t let the degrees fool you. It’s a reason I got the name Hood.”

* * *

“Mama!” I yelled as I got out of my car and slammed the door. My Mama sat on the porch, a blunt in one hand and a glass of Hennessy in the other. Arlene Bowlin would never change; I knew that just like I knew my name. She pulled her blunt, held it, and blew out the smoke.

“What do you want, Aceyn?” she questioned as she sat back.

I approached the porch but didn’t move to walk up the steps. Mama watched me just like I watched her, both of us waiting on the other to break first. The smile she was trying to hold back slowly broke free, and she laughed.

“I knew your ass wasn’t going to be able to hold it,” I laughed as I took the steps two at a time, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”

“This time of night?” she took another pull of her blunt and shook her head. “It’s not late, Aceyn.”

“It’s almost eleven.” I glanced at my watch and kissed my teeth. Her ass didn’t need to be out here, but I knew she wasn’t going into the house, either. “You need to rest.”

“For what?” she asked with a slight attitude, and I knew that she was about to go in on my ass. “I’m a grown-ass woman, Aceyn.”

“I’m aware.” I wiped my hand over my face and took a deep breath. “I’m just suggesting that you rest. You have chemo in the morning.”

“I ain’t doing that chemo, Aceyn,” she said, waving me off. She drank the last of her drink and then set the cup on the table next to her. “I talked to the doctor this morning. The cancer ain’t responding, and I’m tired of fighting.”

“Mama,” I sighed and sat on the step next to her chair. She’d been fighting cancer on and off my entire life, and I’d never heard her say she was done fighting until now. I rested my head against her leg, and seconds later, her hand brushed my waves. “I’ll talk to your doctor in the morning.”

“Aceyn,” she called my name softly, and I looked up at her. “I’m done, baby.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. “I fought long enough to see you become a grown man. I did my job, baby.”

“Who the hell said I was grown?” I laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and you talking about you did your job?”

“Aceyn, shut the fuck up,” she giggled. “I raised you, don’t tell me I wasted all these years when I could’ve been in the club or selling pussy.”

I kissed my teeth and cut my eyes at my Mama. Her childish ass laughed harder, and all I could do was shake my head. “I ain’t ready to say goodbye yet,” I finally admitted once her giggles subsided. “I ain’t found the woman of my dreams, got married, or gave you a slanted-eyed grandbaby.”

“That ain’t what Givens said when he came to see me earlier,” she replied. I laid my head back on her leg, and her hand returned to my waves. “He said that you’re stuck drooling behind the point guard.”

“Legacy,” I said, then chuckled lowly. “That’s her name, Legacy.”

“Bring her by to see me soon,” she declared.

“We ain’t like that,” I said, shaking my head. “She ain’t trying to fuck with a nigga like that. She a good girl.”

“Like that, Mercy?” she questioned with a laugh. “Because from what I heard, they are best friends.”

“Nah, Legacy is what the world thinks Mercy is,” I answered, then licked my lips. “Mama, she dope, like legit dope.” I rubbed my hands together and let my thoughts drift to Legacy. Lowkey, I was obsessed with her ass and had been since Pyrite had given me her file when he was recruiting her for the Queens.

“Then bring her by,” she announced, then went back to smoking. “I don’t know how much time I have left, Aceyn; I need to know that whoever you end up with will be able to handle you and your crazy.”

“I’m a good nigga, mama,” I chuckled.

“I never said you weren’t, but you also aren’t wrapped too tight, either.” She patted my head. “That’s your daddy's side coming out in you.”

“I’ma tell my pops you are talking about him,” I said, shaking my head. “He gonna be over here talking about you talking about him because you want him back.”

“Leave that nigga where he at,” she replied. “You know how he gets when he’s stressed, and me dying is going to stress him out. I don’t need Bowlin coming over here and getting on my nerves.”

“Alright,” I said, nodding. My throat tightened, and my eyes started to water. I was a grown-ass man, but hearing my Mama admit out loud that she was dying fucked with me. I was far from a mama’s boy, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. As much shit as she talked, I was going to call my pops and let him know that she was done fighting. Donald Bowlin was going to come and make sure his ex-wife was taken care of in her last days.

“I’m serious, Aceyn,” she said. “Leave Bowlin where he is at. I don’t need the hood to know my business. I want to go out the same way I went out.”

“Mama, didn’t you tell me once that you went into the hood, guns blazing and fighting over my daddy?” I chuckled, and she popped me in the back of my head. “I was just asking.”

“Stay out of my business, Aceyn,” she laughed softly. “Let me tell the story I want to. A couple of edits to the storyline isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, alright,” I chuckled.

We sat on the porch for the next few hours. Neither of us was ready to move; truthfully, we had nowhere to go. My Mama was my first love, the person who taught me what love was supposed to be. She went to war with the streets for my daddy and their respect, only walking away because my pop made her. It took me years to understand why he intentionally broke her heart, but I got it. He knew he wouldn’t walk away from the streets; it was all he knew besides loving Mama and me, but it was how he made his money and cared for us. The thought of us not being safe never sat right with him, so he did what he had to do: got us out of the hood and put us in the burbs.

My young ass rebelled and went right back; I had to learn the hard way that it wasn’t for me. Setting my sights on something besides the streets took me a minute. Like any young nigga, I was addicted to fast money and the danger of never knowing how my day was going to move. I was good at basketball, and my pop wanted me to pursue it, but that was before shit like the NIL. So, while I played and got a free ride to college, I was still in the streets. It was how I connected with the Stone brothers. Citrine, Pyrite, and Amethyst each had their hands in something illegal, and I wanted in. I spent my college years running the streets and the courts. Getting shot, sat my ass down, and shit started getting real. My Mama was stressed, and my pop was furious. One thing you never did was stress his woman out; it didn’t matter if they were divorced or not. I couldn’t do shit but respect him for letting it be known that I would end up dead because people knew my name and face. The best niggas in the streets were the ones whose names brought fear long before their faces did.

Pyrite approached me once I was healed and offered me a job I couldn’t refuse. He and his brothers were going legit and needed me to move with them. Pyrite wanted to bring basketball back to KC and would need a team doctor. He offered me the job without questions and nothing in return. I agreed and buckled down; since I was already pre-med in college, I put my head down and didn’t lift it until I walked the stage with degrees and letters in front and behind my name.

I told myself the only time I ever wanted my Mama to cry over me was because I made her proud, and if I wasn’t anything else, I was a man of word.