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Philly Flames: Nine-year contract, $378 million guaranteed, $30 million signing bonus, AAV $42 million.

DC Wildcats: Eight-year contract, $360 million guaranteed, $50 million signing bonus, AAV $45 million.

The last one made my throat dry. Ain’t no way. Why would this be an option? They kept me away from anything close to home for as long as they could. This shit felt like a setup. I leaned back in my seat, wheels turnin’ in my head. What would they want in exchange for puttin’ this deal on the table?

Baltimore Blackhawks: Eight-year contract, $425 million guaranteed, $60 million signing bonus, AAV $42.5 million.

“Juvie? You still there?” Luke asked.

“Yeah. What’s the fuckin’ catch? Who told you to show me this shit?”

“There’s no catch. It’s your choice.”

Choice? This nigga got jokes.

“Aye… I ain’t ’bout to play this game. Ima make some calls, and I’ll hit you back.”

“But, Juvie. The Blackhawks⁠—”

“Nah. Ima make a call and let you know.”

I hung up on his bitch ass. These niggas wanted to fuck wit’ my head. Danglin’ shit over my head, hopin’ I’d bite. They couldn’t think I was that stupid. I slammed my laptop shut and rubbed my temples, tryna calm the tension. These niggas never did shit without a motive. That upfront money smelled like bullshit.

My phone buzzed on my desk. I didn’t have to check to see who it was. I knew Luke called this nigga. I answered but stayed quiet, waitin’ for him to speak.

“JuMarion. What’s the problem?”

I laughed once and shook my head. “You tell me. You keep me away from home for fifteen years, and now you put that shit in my face. The fuck you want from me?”

“A few championships will do. And three more years of your time. Then, you’re free to go.”

“Free to go? You must think I’m slow, Yusef. Ain’t shit free wit’ you niggas.”

He laughed into the phone, makin’ my stomach turn. “Eighteen years, for every year of my blood’s life. Then you get your freedom. It’s all in black and white. You read the contract, right?”

“If you already made the decision, why the fuck would you have Luke show me that shit?” I spat.

“Formality. And I wanted you to see that your hard work has paid off. And be a little nicer to my baby girl. Good night, Juvie.”

The line went dead, and I just sat there, starin’ at the wall in front of me. No matter what he said, I didn’t trust it. I fell for the shit in the beginning. I thought if I complied, they’d pull back. If I just kept my head down and made these mufuckas enough money, eventually they’d get bored and leave me the fuck alone. That never happened. Every year came with somethin’ new. Another person in my business. Another appearance, a favor, another reminder that the life everybody thought belonged to me really belonged to them.

Three more years sounded short compared to fifteen, but I knew better than to count down shit with Ambrose. They could move the finish line if it benefited them. Still, B-More was home. My family was there. Everything I knew before my life turned into this shit was there. If they were finally lettin’ me close enough to touch some part of my old life, I wanted it.

I opened my laptop again and stared at the Blackhawks deal. Four hundred twenty-five million dollars. Sixty million up front. It looked good, but I knew it was another contract stacked on top of the one that kept me tied up. A soft knock hit my door, but I ignored it. Ni didn’t knock again. She knew when to leave me the fuck alone.

Whether Ambrose was givin’ me somethin’ back, or sendin’ me somewhere else to lose more shit, I was comin’ home. Baltimore was waitin’.

My living room stayed quiet except for the anchors’ voices. Afternoon light cut long across the hardwood while my laptop glowed on the coffee table. Apex Sports Network played on the TV while I scrolled through endorsement contracts for my client, Tion Shields. He was twenty-one, wild, and brand new to the NFL. His cousin was my good friend, Hilary. We went to college together. She asked me to take him on as a client, and I agreed.

Worst fuckin’ mistake ever. He needed media training and a better PR team. If he didn’t straighten up, he wouldn’t get endorsements or any other opportunities, for that matter. The contract in front of me was a bullshit ass deal, but Tion was a risk, and big brands couldn’t afford those. Tomorrow, I was on his ass. Hilary being my friend ain’t have shit to do with business. If a nigga put my career on the line, I’d drop him.

One of the anchors, Benny from Strike & Score, started discussing free agents, and my ears perked up immediately. I still had enough space for at least three more clients. I’d been known to snatch a client or five from other agents. This was a cutthroat business, but I was one of the best, so what I wanted, I took.

“After ten long years with the LA Vipers, JuMarion “Juvie” Ross is a free agent. The thirty-one-year-old shortstop is coming off another monster season! Batting .312 with 38 home runs, 112 RBIs, 41 stolen bases, and a .947 OPS. A seven-time All-Star, five-time Gold Glove winner, four-time Silver Slugger, and a three-time league MVP, Ross has helped bring five championships home to Los Angeles.”

“And the market is already moving. Sources say Chicago, Houston, Philly, and DC have all made serious offers for the veteran superstar…”

“But we’re hearing the Baltimore Blackhawks may have emerged as the frontrunner.”