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The next one was a photo dump. I swiped through the pictures, and that nigga Emery was there again. It was from Christmas. She posted all her gifts. The last picture was her in his lap. That nigga had a handful of her ass, palming that shit. The caption read POV: Your man understood the assignment. Thank you, baby. I love you. She even tagged that mufucka.

“Bitch ass nigga.”

I scrolled through a few more pictures. Career milestones, signing new clients, vacations. Juicy’s life was full. She was out here livin’, and I was happy for her. I just didn’t want her livin’ life wit’ a nigga who wasn’t me. It was selfish but honest as fuck. I understood why she wasn’t talkin’ to me. But soon, she wouldn’t be able to dodge me. The music was still playin’, but I drowned that shit out, thinkin’ ’bout how I wanted to knock her lil’ boyfriend’s teeth down his fuckin’ throat. I dragged my hand down my face, then locked my phone.

“Tighten the fuck up, Juvie.”

If I didn’t get outta this house, I’d sit here and stalk her ass all fuckin’ day. It was time to hit the mall and make sure my chef was on time for dinner wit’ my niggas and Coach Les. Juicy ain’t know it yet, but I was gon’ get her somethin’ to remind her who the fuck I am. So, when she thought she was happy wit’ that nigga, I’d pop up in her brain like Jason. Ain’t no killin’ me out ya life.

Coach Les, Don, and Rue showed up at around 6:30. We sat outside on the patio, full as hell. The chef did his thing wit’ that red snapper. L.A. nights couldn’t be replicated. The fire pits were lit around us, keepin’ it warm enough to knock the chill off. But that wasn’t the only thing keepin’ me warm. Juicy had me fucked up. At this point, she was just postin’ shit to piss me the fuck off. I knew she saw me watchin’, and she kept postin’ this nigga.

“Juvie. You alright, kid?” Coach said, pullin’ me outta my head.

I locked my phone and laid it face-down. “Yeah. I’m straight. What was you sayin’?

“I was asking if you wanted a cigar. I brought one for each of us.”

“Hell yeah. You always got the good shit.”

Coach passed around the cigars. Rue dropped some white Henny in everybody’s glass, and Don was just himself.

“You missin’ L.A. yet?” Rue asked, sippin’ from his cup.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I ain’t mad about bein’ close to my family. B-More can keep that cold ass weather, though. I ain’t had to worry about snow in ten years. Shit ain’t no joke.”

Coach Les sat there, studyin’ me. Some shit I couldn’t hide from him. He’d spent ten years learnin’ me, and it showed.

“How are you really, kid? I’ve known you a long time. You look tense. Like it’s a lot on your mind.”

“I’m good, Coach. Just adjustin’ to a new team and environment. I been so busy that I ain’t had time to really settle.”

“He lyin’, Coach,” Don said, pullin’ on his cigar. “The nigga’s neck and shoulders tight as fuck.”

Coach stared at me, tryna read where I was mentally. “Hm. I’ll let Juvie come to me if something is going on with him. You’d tell me, right?”

“Man, go ’head, Don. I’m good, Coach, for real. Just been busy as hell, missin’ sleep and meals. Makin’ some mufuckin’ money, too.”

“Yeah, that nigga lyin’, Coach. Juvie Ross missin’ meals? Hell nah.” Rue cracked up laughin’ and smacked Don’s shoulder.

“I knew from day one, you three would be a problem for me. And y’all still haven’t grown up. Thirty-year-old men, still big ass kids.”

Rue’s lips curled in a grin. “I think we been doin’ good. Juvie was the bad influence. Nigga had us in the club the day before a game. I can’t tell you how many times I almost passed out under them bright ass lights, fuckin’ wit’ him.”

“Improper ass influence. Nigga got his slugs in on game day, scarin’ the fuck outta them folks. You still got mufuckas scared to ask for an autograph?” Don hollered, laughin’.

“Y’all ain’t shit,” I said, pointin’ at them. “But nah. I’m glad y’all came through. I’m flyin’ out late tomorrow. I got an event for some kids. Y’all should come.”

Don folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Look at you, on your philanthropy and humanitarian shit. I’m proud of you, patna!”

“’Preciate it. Y’all niggas comin’ or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll slide through,” Rue replied.

Don nodded, takin’ the last sip of his drink. “You know it’s stepdaddy season. I wonder if one of them mamas needs a daddy for her kids.”

Coach Les hollered, slappin’ his knee and shit. “When are you gonna grow up, Don?”

“Shid, maybe when I get some kids and a good woman. You got lucky, Juv. L.A. ain’t it, and them Houston girls, they sweet on a nigga, but they got claws. The women in B-More like that?”