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Post by Caesar » 11 Mar 2026, 23:11

Clausus

Caine flipped the tortilla onto the pan, pressing it down with his hand.

He had the eggs scrambled and waiting in the bowl, peppers and onion already done, cheese pulled from the wrapper and sitting on the cutting board. He held his fingers just above the tortilla and waited, eyes on the stove. The smell of the peppers and onion still hung in the kitchen from when he'd done them first, warm and sharp under the grease smell of the pan.

His phone sat propped against the backsplash. He reached over and swiped the screen awake with his knuckle on the other hand. Notifications stacked the display. A string of texts in the group thread with the guys. Two reminders from the course portal about assignments. He scrolled past both.

His thumb slowed.

The thread sat below the others. No name attached to it, just the ten digits he’d memorized. He'd sent the message two days ago, right after his mother, Mireya and Camila left. No reply had come back. He stared at the text for a moment, then scrolled back up.

He stopped on the thread with Ramon, Tyree, and E.J. His thumb hovered over it. He tapped it open and let it sit on the screen while he flipped the tortilla with his hand.

He thought about asking. How connected Trell actually was. Whether any of them had already known about him and Mireya. The conversation from Saturday was still sitting on his mind.

He set the phone down face-first on the counter.

His eyes moved to the corner of the living room. Camila had made a pile before she left, sorting through the team shop bags. A jersey sat folded on top, too big for her by half, kept anyway. A pennant leaned against the baseboard. She'd set a stuffed helmet on the arm of the couch deliberately, positioned it just so, and then walked out to the car.

He turned back to the stove just as bedroom door opened.

Alanna came out barefoot, one of his shirts hanging loose off one shoulder, the hem stopping low on her thighs. She had one hand raised to her face, knuckle working at the corner of her eye. She stopped in the doorway and stretched, both arms going up above her head, the shirt riding up with them, and yawned wide and slow, eyes watering with it.

She crossed the living room and came into the kitchen behind him. Her arms slid around his waist and her cheek pressed flat against the middle of his back. She held there without moving, her weight settling against him

"You cooking enough for me?"

Caine snorted. He kept his eyes on the pan, working the eggs toward the edges. "Depends how much you eat." He flipped the tortilla again and checked the color. "I ain't expect for you to fall asleep. Thought you were gonna leave by now."

She slipped around to his side, leaning back against the counter next to the stove so she could see his face. Her arms crossed loosely at her stomach, hair still pressed flat from the pillow on one side.

"You shouldn't have fucked me so good if you wanted me to leave." She tilted her head at him. "I almost fell in love last night."

Caine barked a laugh. He reached past her for the second tortilla, pulled it from the pack, and dropped it onto the burner, turning it on. "I hope you ain't picky," he said, "because I ain't about to cook something different than what I'm eating."

Alanna watched him work for a second. "I think I can make do." She let a beat pass. "If you feeding me lunch, too."

Caine glanced at the clock on the microwave, then back at the pan. "Shit, I don't know. I got some assignments to do and—"

"Mmhm."

She put both palms flat against his chest and pushed him back just enough to step into the space between him and the counter. Her eyes stayed on his the whole way down as she dropped to her knees in front of him, fingers hooking into the waistband of his shorts and pulling them down in one clean motion.

Caine looked down at her.

He reached back and turned the burner off under the eggs. Then he nodded once. "Nevermind then. Lunch it is."

~~~
Trell pulled into a spot at the top of the parking garage, nothing overhead but sky. He cut the engine and walked toward where Cass stood.

He could see Cass from across the level. She stood against the driver's side of her car with her arms crossed, facing the low wall, looking out at the street below. She kept looking down even as he approached.

Trell stopped a few steps away.

"You ain't got your bodyguard with you today?"

Cass finished whatever she was watching on the street before she turned her head. "You ain't got yours with you so I figure I ain't need mine."

Trell looked out over the wall for a moment. He looked back at Cass. "What more you know about this nigga Meechie talking about he got a problem with the way we doing business?"

Cass shifted her weight off the car. Her arms stayed crossed. One shoulder came up and dropped. "I don't know no more than what I already told you a couple weeks ago." She held his gaze. "You should've done smoothed that over by now, huh?"

Trell let the question sit there for a second before he answered. "Cass." He said it flat. "You know if I turn off the tap for him, I'm gonna do the same thing to you. 'Cause you the bitch who brought him and his cousin around. Gonna be real hard to make money around here then."

Cass let her arms drop to her sides. She stood straight and looked at him. "I ain't worried about that." Her chin came up a fraction. "I been a hustler since I came out my mama pussy. Just like Ceedy was when she was young."

Trell shook his head. "You supposed to be backing me up on these things. I been knowing you for a long time. Since we was eighteen, nineteen years old."

Cass nodded once. "You ain't lying. Since P put you and Ant on. Now look at you. The boss. Fucking Don Corleone and shit."

"That sound like some sour shit."

Cass raised both hands, palms out, fingers loose. "No." She let her hands drop back. "I respect the hustle. Someone had to take the spot when Peanut got killed. Couldn't been none of them other niggas that was around when that happened. And Ant went sit down on that bid right after that, didn't he?"

Trell shrugged "That sound about right."

She took a step toward him. "Look. I ain't heard nothing more about Meechie and what he got on his mind." She tilted her head slightly. "But I heard you getting war ready. So, what you got to worry about?"

"War bad for business." He kept his eyes on her face. "You know that better than anybody."

"You should've thought about that before you went to Memphis."

Trell sucked his teeth.

Cass turned from him and walked back to her car. She gripped the door handle, pulled it open, and stood in the frame of it with one hand resting flat on the roof.

"And why them crackers in Florida ain't been answering my calls?"

Cass looked back at him over the top of the door. "Send the Mexican back down there and have her find out." She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.

Trell stood there and watched the tinted glass of her window for a moment. Then he shook his head and walked back to his own car.
~~~
Saul pushed through the front door with the trash bag twisted around his fingers and let the screen door slap shut behind him. He stopped abruptly when he felt someone close to him.

Ramon was sitting on the hood of his car.

He had his arms resting on his elbows, feet on the bumper. He just watched as Saul walked out of the door.

Saul stood on the front step. He looked left down the street, then right, taking in the neighboring yards and the houses facing them. Then he looked back at Ramon. "How you knew where I was?"

"IG, bro." Ramon lifted one hand and dropped it again. "I was about to ask Caine, but I know he be busy with that football thing so I figured I'd just pop up on you."

Saul came down the steps and crossed the front yard to the garbage can at the edge of the driveway. He lifted the lid, dropped the bag in, and let the lid fall back with a hollow knock of plastic on plastic. He walked

"My girl's parents are going to call the cops if they see you out here."

Ramon snorted a laugh. "Why? Cause I'm a nigga?"

"I mean, no, but." Saul stopped there. He looked at the ground for a second, then brought his eyes back up.

Ramon let it sit. "It's all good, lil' brudda. I ain't gonna stay long. I just need to know when you getting in touch with them boys about that work. I know they looking for you. And if I can find you from IG, then they can find you from IG, too."

Saul ran his hand through his hair and let it rest at the back of his neck. He looked off past Ramon at the street. "I been busy, man."

Ramon shook his head. "Ain't no busy in this, nigga. Every day you let someone hold money over your head is another day they got reason to kill your ass." He looked past Saul toward the front of the house, then back. "You got a kid in there, don't you?"

Saul turned and looked back over his shoulder at the front door. stood there for a half second, then turned back to Ramon and nodded.

Ramon waved his hand one way then the other as he spoke. "I ain't got no kids. So I ain't gonna front like, oh, if I had one I'd do this. But you got in a dangerous game, lil' brudda. And me and Tyree, we the only way you getting out of it."

Saul blew a breath out through his nose. "What y'all even gonna do?"

Ramon shrugged one shoulder. "Why it matter?"

"Because he's my ex's boyfriend."

Ramon laughed. "Sounds like more reason you'd want something to happen to him to me."

"But if she with him—"

Ramon raised his hand, palm out, and held it there. "Nah, I got you." His voice came down a register. "Less you know the better. I just need you to make that call. You ain't even gotta be in the city. Matter of fact, it's better if you not."

Saul stood there another moment, his hands loose at his sides.

He nodded. "I'm gonna let you know."

"Alright, cool." Ramon pushed himself off the hood, the car shifting under the weight coming off it. He straightened, rolled his neck once, and looked back toward the front door. He gestured at it with two loose fingers. "They got jambalaya in there? I heard Gonzales the jambalaya capital of the world and that sound like cap."

"This is St. Amant."

Ramon snapped his fingers and shook his head. He turned and pulled his car door open.

Saul stayed at the edge of the driveway and watched him get in. The engine turned over and the car moved off. Saul stood there and watched it until it reached the corner and turned to go back inside
~~~
Laney pushed open the door to her parents’ house, three Amazon packages stacked in her arm. She swung her foot back to shut the door with her heel.

"Daddy?" Her voice went up toward the stairs and the back of the house. She stood in the entryway and waited, one hand braced under the stack of packages, listening to the house settle around her. "Mama?"

Nothing. She shifted the packages higher and started up the stairs, her free hand trailing the banister.

She passed the first door on the left, Rylee's old room from when they were kids. She kept going to the room at the end of the hall, the one that had been hers before the wedding.

She raised her hand to knock. Then she dropped it and shoved the door open with her palm.

The curtains were drawn against the light coming through the window. Rylee lay face-down in the bed, hair spread loose across the pillow, wearing just a tank top. The room smelled of stale perfume and underneath that, sweat, sleep and bad decisions. Rylee pushed up onto her elbows at the sound of the door hitting the wall, turned her head to look over her shoulder, and when she saw Laney standing there, she let out a groan and dropped her face back into the pillow.

Laney crossed to the bed and dropped the packages on top of her. "Stop gettin' stuff sent to my fuckin' house."

Rylee shoved the packages sideways with one arm so she could roll without sending them to the floor. She pulled herself up to sitting slow, blinking against the dim, one hand working through her tangled hair. Her voice came out scraped raw. "You gotta stop fuckin' yellin'. I ain't sleep good last night."

"You ain't sleep good 'cause you were out all night fuckin' and drinkin' again."

Rylee rolled her eyes. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her keys, then turned to the stack of packages sitting on the bed beside her. She worked the pointed end of a key into the tape on the top one and dragged it down the seam, the sound of it sharp in the dim room.

"I ain't tryin' to hear your lectures right now." She pulled the box open and spread the flaps. "You brought me my packages. Now get the fuck out."

Laney crossed her arms at her chest. "It's been months, Rylee Jo." She held her ground at the side of the bed and looked down at her. "You need to grow the fuck up and move the fuck on. The world ain't all puppy dogs and rainbows. Shit happens you don't want to happen. Get over it."

Rylee reached into the box and pulled out a smaller box nested inside it. She turned it over once in her hands, looking at the back of the packaging, then set it flat on the comforter in front of her. A vibrator.

Laney's jaw went tight. She sucked her teeth, shaking her head. "That's what you had sent to my house?" She looked at the box sitting on the comforter and then back up at Rylee. "What if my sons had opened that package?"

Rylee lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "Teach those lil' bastards not to open other people's packages."

Laney moved around the foot of the bed in three steps. Her hand went into Rylee's hair and closed into a fist, and she pulled back hard, tipping Rylee's chin toward the ceiling.

Rylee yelped, both hands coming up fast, fingers locking around Laney's wrist and squeezing. "Get the fuck off me!"

"Shit rolls downhill, Rylee Jo." Laney kept her grip and held her eyes. "You might think you can be flippant with me 'cause of daddy. But I'll beat your ass just the same."

She shoved her back by the fistful of hair and let go. Rylee caught herself on both palms against the mattress, the packages sliding off to one side. Laney turned and walked for the door, her steps even on the floor.

"Fuck you, Laney."

Laney stopped in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder, one hand resting on the frame. "Get your shit together." She held the look just long enough. "And next time, keep your sex toys off my fuckin' doorstep."
~~~
Jaslene’s arm found Mireya's waist before they'd cleared the second step, and her mouth dropped to the side of Mireya's neck, lips pressing warm against her skin, once and then again.

Mireya laughed and put a hand flat on Jaslene's shoulder and shoved. "You gotta chill."

Jaslene pulled back just enough to look at her, walking half sideways up the remaining steps. "You been looking good all night, mi amor."

"We did three fucking VIPs." Mireya kept moving, keys already in her hand.

"Joder, tienes razón." Jaslene fell back into step behind her and got her hand to the small of Mireya's back before they reached the landing.

Mireya got the key into the lock and pushed the door open. She stepped through and Jaslene came in right behind her, hands going under the hem of Mireya’s hoodie before Mireya had both feet across the threshold, fingers curling into the fabric and pushing it up toward her shoulders.

Mireya turned. "Chill."

Sena was at the coffee table with her laptop open in front of her, a half-eaten bag of chips pushed to one side, shoes off and tucked under the table. She looked up at the sound of the door, eyes going to Mireya first and then to Jaslene just behind her.

Mireya pulled her hoodie down. Jaslene smiled and moved past her toward the kitchen, fingers trailing along Mireya's forearm as she went.

"Camila's asleep?" Mireya asked.

Sena nodded. "We went to the park and that tired her out." She reached over and folded the top of the chip bag down.

"Thanks, again." Mireya set her keys on the table by the door and let her bag drop off her shoulder to the floor. "I know this is crazy."

Sena waved it off and pulled her laptop closed. She slid it into her bag and stood, strap going up onto her shoulder, scanning the table.

Mireya reached into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a folded stack of bills. She peeled several off and held them out.

Sena took them and tucked them into her back pocket. "Thanks."

"You staying?" Mireya asked.

Sena's eyes moved to the kitchen. Jaslene had pulled herself up onto the counter, legs hanging, tipping a vodka bottle over a glass. Sena looked back at Mireya. "I have to finish that paper for Lirette and I need to be at a desk."

"Shit." Mireya pressed her lips together. "I forgot about that."

"It's due tomorrow night."

Mireya dragged her hand back through her hair, fingers catching on a knot, and held it there at the back of her head. "I'll have to fit that in somewhere."

Sena shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. "Life of a college student." She glanced down the hall and back. "I'm gonna use the bathroom first."

"Yeah, go ahead."

Sena headed down the hall. Mireya turned and went into the kitchen. Jaslene had set her phone face-down on the counter beside her and was working on the glass, swirling it once before taking a sip.

She set it down when Mireya came in. "Qué mejora con respecto a tu prima."

Mireya leaned back against the counter across from her and crossed her arms. "¿Qué quieres decir?"

Jaslene set the glass to one side and reached out, fingers closing around Mireya's wrist. She tugged her forward, easy, until Mireya was standing between her knees with their faces close. Her other hand came up and pushed Mireya's hair back from her face, fingers dragging through it slowly. "Es linda."

She leaned down and kissed her. Mireya's hand came up to Jaslene's jaw and she leaned into it. Jaslene's palm moved to the back of her neck and the kiss deepened, Mireya's fingers pressing against Jaslene's face. Jaslene's free hand found Mireya's hip and pulled her closer.

"Hey, Mireya."

Mireya stepped back and turned. Sena stood at the end of the hall.

Jaslene reached up and caught a loose strand of Mireya's hair between two fingers and turned it.

"You're out of toilet paper in that bathroom," Sena said. "I didn't see any extra in the cabinet."

"Oh, yeah." Mireya stepped clear of Jaslene. "It's in my bathroom. I'll put some in there."

Sena nodded. "Alright. See you on campus tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Sena crossed to the door, picked her jacket and bag off the arm of the couch as she passed, and pulled the front door open. It swung shut behind her, closing soft in the frame.

Jaslene slid down off the counter, feet finding the floor. She came up close behind Mireya and dropped her lips to her ear. "Ya no hay más excusas, mi amor."

Mireya rolled her eyes. She reached back and closed her hand around Jaslene's, pulling her toward the bedroom.
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Captain Canada
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Post by Captain Canada » 12 Mar 2026, 10:34

Rylee messy as hell, Mireya is literally insatiable.

You will never beat these allegations, kind sir.
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Post by redsox907 » 12 Mar 2026, 20:59

blah blah blah Mireya ain't in a relationship with Jas blah blah blah

Still think this goes sideway for Saul

Caine in his feelings that Laney ain't texting him back while continuing to run through every sorority girl in the south

Still surprised he ain't reach out to the dudes bout Trell, but its coming
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Post by Sonny » 12 Mar 2026, 21:26

I thought Caine would have all the Trell details by now. He’s too busy being rude to his new lady friend.

Mireya has no limits. Just a sex crazed individual.
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Post by Caesar » 12 Mar 2026, 22:56

Captain Canada wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 10:34
Rylee messy as hell, Mireya is literally insatiable.

You will never beat these allegations, kind sir.
Y'all say she in a relationship with Jaslene. She can't fuck her girlfriend (so y'all say)????
redsox907 wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 20:59
blah blah blah Mireya ain't in a relationship with Jas blah blah blah

Still think this goes sideway for Saul

Caine in his feelings that Laney ain't texting him back while continuing to run through every sorority girl in the south

Still surprised he ain't reach out to the dudes bout Trell, but its coming
:druski:

It's already gone sideways.

Caine -> somehow gets emotionally unsettled by a woman in his life -> fucks a random chick. Tis the way of his life. He's not in his feelings about Laney. He's in his feelings about Mireya.

:hmm:
Sonny wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 21:26
I thought Caine would have all the Trell details by now. He’s too busy being rude to his new lady friend.

Mireya has no limits. Just a sex crazed individual.
He made her breakfast!

The consensus among the readers is that Jaslene is Mireya's girlfriend. This is a completely normal interaction based on the readers' consensus.
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Post by Caesar » 12 Mar 2026, 22:56

Tacita Culpa

Asia sat at the closest table with her back to the wall. She wore a plain gray T-shirt and sweatpants, hair pulled into a braid that lay flat against her shoulder. Her skin looked different. Still thin, still drawn around the cheekbones, but the gray had lifted. Her eyes tracked him as Ramon came through the doors.

"You brought food," she said, lifting her chin at the bag.

He set the Parkway bag on the table between them and sat down across from her. He stretched his legs out under the table and crossed his arms on the table.

Asia pulled the bag closer and unrolled the top. She spread the contents out on the wax paper, a fried chicken plate with potato salad and a roast beef po-boy cut in half. Her fingers went to the chicken first, pulling at the skin where it crisped at the edge of the thigh.

Ramon looked past her, scanning the courtyard. The brick wall. The doors he came through. The tree line beyond the awning. Two workers in scrubs stood near a side entrance, talking with their arms crossed. A man in a robe walked a slow loop around the perimeter, slippers scuffing the concrete.

"This place looking boring as fuck," he said.

Asia sucked her teeth. She tore a strip of skin off the thigh and ate it, wiping her fingers on a napkin from the bag.

"It is, but that's the point, nigga," she said. "You ain't supposed to be living no fast life when you trying to stay clean."

Ramon shook his head. His eyes moved from the tree line to the side entrance and back. One of the workers glanced his direction, then went back to her conversation.

"I feel like they gotta have a middle between being on that shit and this," he said.

Asia stopped pulling apart the chicken and looked up at him. She held the piece still over the wax paper, head tilted.

"They shouldn't even have let your fucking ass in here," she said. "You should've sent Nina."

Ramon shrugged, one shoulder lifting and dropping.

"Well, Nina at some shit for some little girl who got hit by a car, so best you got is me," he said.

Asia looked at him for a beat, then went back to the chicken. She pulled the meat off the bone in long strips, laying them on the wax paper before picking them up one at a time. She ate slow, chewing with her mouth closed, taking her time with it.

"You don't get tired of that shit?" she asked.

Ramon leaned back. "Tired of what?"

"Being in the streets," Asia said. She set the stripped bone down on the wax paper and reached for the potato salad, scooping some with a plastic fork. "What if you and Nina had a little girl? You gonna have to worry about niggas shooting at you and hitting them or running her over with a car. Same shit Nina always at something for."

"That's that rehab talking," he said. "You the one in here and need this, not me."

Asia shrugged. The fork scraped the bottom of the container as she went for another bite. She chewed, swallowed, and pointed the fork at his chest.

"I'm just saying that's some shit you really got to think about," she said. "I know you had to leave your gun in the car so you probably uncomfortable now."

Ramon waved the comment off with a flick of his fingers. His hand came back to the table and settled there, palm down, thumb tapping once against the wood.

"I ain't worried about being around these white folks," he said.

Asia picked up half of the po-boy and turned it over, checking the gravy and debris. She took a bite and the bread crackled. Juice ran down her wrist and she caught it with the side of her hand before it hit the table.

"I bet your homeboy with that cop shit ain't worried about nothing either," she said, mouth still working through the roast beef.

Ramon's eyes came back to her. He sat forward, forearms on the table now.

"Because you should've did that instead of that white girl," he said.

Asia laughed. The sound came out short, almost a bark, and she covered her mouth with the back of her wrist so she wouldn't spit food.

"It don't work if the motherfucker don't want me," she said. She swallowed and set the po-boy down, tapping the crust off her fingers. "That's what I said when you talked to me about it."

"NOPD fucking nasty," Ramon said. "They'll fuck anything."

"Well, that's the only reason ya little plan worked, but that don't mean he like it dark," Asia said. She picked the po-boy back up and took another bite, smaller this time, her jaw working steady.

Ramon sucked his teeth and leaned back again. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his gaze drift across the courtyard. The man in the robe had finished his loop and was sitting on a bench near the far wall, head tipped back, eyes closed. One of the workers had gone inside. The other stood by the door scrolling through her phone.

"E.J. on some fraud shit right now, but he still in the 3," Ramon said. "Just out there with them Houston niggas."

Asia nodded, chewing. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

"Yeah, where it's safe," she said. "Where your ass need to be thinking about finding."

Ramon shook his head. His fingers found the edge of the table and drummed once, then stopped.

"Your ass don't need to be worried about what I'm doing," he said. "Worry about doing them fucking steps so you get out here and don't get back on that fucking dope."

Asia shook her head. She folded the wax paper over what was left of the chicken and pushed the whole spread across the table toward him. Her hands came back to her lap and she sat there, looking at him with her chin level and her shoulders straight.

The side door opened. A worker stepped into the courtyard, clipboard tucked against her hip. She scanned the tables and found Asia.

"Asia, it's almost time for group," she said.

Asia stood up from the bench. She shoved the leftover food the rest of it across the table until the bag and wax paper sat in front of Ramon's folded arms.

"Next time, bring a bitch Commander's," she said.

Ramon looked at the food, then back up at her. "Bitch, you ain't got Commander's money."

Asia laughed. The sound carried across the courtyard and the woman on the far bench looked up from her paperback. Asia turned and walked toward the worker at the door, her stride steady, slippers flat against the concrete. The worker held the door and Asia went through it without looking back. The door closed behind them and the latch caught with a soft click.

Ramon sat at the table with the leftover food in front of him. He looked at the chicken bones and the half-eaten po-boy and the crumpled napkin. The courtyard held still around him. Pine needles shifted overhead, throwing moving shadows across the concrete. He pulled the bag closer, rolled the top down tight, and stood up from the bench.
~~~
Mireya's fingers moved across the keyboard in short bursts, pausing between sentences to check the rubric she had pulled up in a second tab. The table outside the university center sat in a strip of shade that was already shrinking as the sun climbed higher. Her laptop screen washed out every time a cloud passed and the light shifted, and she tilted it forward with one hand, squinting at the paragraph she had just written.

She reached over to the latte sitting next to her purse and brought it to her lips. She took a sip, set it back down, and wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb before going back to the screen.

Around her, the walkway carried its late morning traffic. Students cutting between buildings, a girl on the phone laughing too loud, two guys in matching fraternity shirts tossing a football across the grass.

A man in UNO athletic gear walked past her table. Navy polo tucked into khakis, lanyard swinging from his pocket, phone held close to his face. He stopped a few feet past her and looked up, scanning the buildings, then looked back down at his phone. He sucked his teeth and cursed under his breath, turning in a slow circle with his jaw set. He shook his head and looked around again, and his eyes landed on Mireya.

He walked over to her table. His sneakers were clean, white with a navy stripe that matched the polo. He held his phone up slightly as he approached.

"Excuse me. Sorry to bother you. You know where the Cove at from here?"

Mireya looked up from her laptop. She pointed toward the road that ran along the edge of campus, her arm straight, finger extended past the row of parked cars.

"Just follow that sidewalk toward the canal," she said. "It's right on the side of it, across from the library."

The man nodded. "Thanks."

He turned and started walking in the direction she had pointed. He got three steps before he stopped, sneakers scraping the concrete. He turned back, phone lowering to his side.

"You look familiar," he said.

Mireya's hand stayed on the edge of her laptop. She raised an eyebrow.

"I might just have a familiar face," she said.

The man shook his head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, free hand coming up to scratch the side of his jaw.

"Nah, you sound familiar, too," he said. "I haven't been in New Orleans but a month, so I don't know many people here."

Mireya gestured at his polo, the lanyard, the khakis. "I mean, I'm always on campus."

The man looked down at his own clothes for a second, then back at her. His mouth worked like he was chewing on something. His eyes narrowed, searching. He looked at the walkway, then back at her face.

"Nah, it's..." He trailed off. His hand came up and he snapped his fingers three times, sharp, and then pointed at her. "Luna."

Mireya's lips rolled together, pressing into a tight line. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. The shade had crept past the edge of the table and the sun touched her forearm.

The man put both hands up, palms out, stepping back half a pace.

"No, no, no. I'm not gonna blow up your spot," he said. His voice dropped lower. "I just got a job here. With athletics. I'm not trying to get fired already."

Mireya held his eyes. A student walked between them with a backpack dragging on one shoulder and neither of them moved until the kid passed.

"Then how about we keep that between us then," she said.

The man nodded, fast, hands still up. "No doubt. Like I said, not trying to get Sherrone Moore'd." He lowered his hands and tucked his phone into his back pocket. His posture shifted, shoulders angling toward her, voice staying low enough that the two girls passing on the sidewalk behind him caught nothing. "But look, I was talking to my boy who brought me to that spot, and he said some of y'all, you know..."

Mireya shook her head. "I don't know."

The man rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes flicked to the walkway, then to the parking lot, then back to her.

"Do a little extra?" he said.

Mireya shrugged. The laptop screen behind her had gone to sleep, the cursor no longer blinking.

"No clue what you're talking about," she said.

The man nodded again, slower this time.

"I got you," he said. "My fault." He gestured over his shoulder toward the direction she had pointed him earlier, already shifting his weight to leave. "I got to run, but can you hook me up with the number to find where y'all gonna be? That's how it works, right?"

Mireya tilted her head. "Didn't you just say you don't want to get fired, Mr...?"

The man's hand came to his chest, fingers spread. "Khamari. My name's Khamari. I don't remember if I told you the other night." He paused. "Probably not."

"Well then, Mr. Khamari," Mireya said. "You just said you don't want to get fired, and now you're asking for a phone number from me."

Khamari let out a short breath through his nose. He rubbed the side of his face and looked off to the side, where a groundskeeper was pushing a cart of mulch bags across the lot.

"Yeah, that sound crazy," he said. "Thinking about it."

Mireya held out her hand, palm up.

"As long as you remember," she said, "if you tell anyone about this, you're going down with me."

Khamari smiled. He pulled the phone from his back pocket and placed it in her open hand, screen already unlocked.

"Yeah, I got you," he said.

Mireya took the phone and swiped over to his contacts. Her thumb moved across the screen, tapping in a number. She handed the phone back, staring into his eyes.

"Don't talk to me here again," she said.

~~~
Caine sat with his back against the oak, bark pressing through his shirt, legs stretched out in front of him. Laney lay between his thighs with her head resting against his chest, her body settled into his.

The side-by-side sat parked ten yards off under the shade with its engine cold. Past it, the pasture ran open and flat to the tree line, the grass browning at the tips where the sun had been working it all month.

The air held the last real heat of the afternoon, thick with cut hay and warm dirt and the faint diesel smell off the side-by-side. Gnats circled in a loose cloud over the fence wire. A hawk worked a slow loop over the far field, wings tilting without effort.

Laney's thumb traced the line of his knuckles, back and forth, pressing into the spaces between his fingers. Her breathing had settled into something even and unhurried against his ribs.

"The other day when I was watchin' y'all's game," she said, "I noticed they was doin' a lot of talkin' 'bout you transferrin' at the end of the season."

Caine snorted a laugh. "Yeah, what they said about me? That I'm on my way to Mississippi State or some shit?"

Laney shook her head, her hair brushing his shirt. Her thumb kept its path along his fingers.

"Big schools," she said. "I ain't expect nothin' different. It's just weird to hear people talk 'bout someone I know on TV like that. Like you bigger than life already."

Caine shifted his weight against the trunk and let his chin drop closer to the top of her head. "You were watching a channel showing a fucking Georgia Southern and Eastern Michigan game. Ain't like it was on ESPN."

"Don't matter," Laney said. Her fingers stilled on his hand for a beat, then started again. "But it reminded me that I ain't gonna be able to watch the games for wherever you go next."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Laney shifted against him, turning enough that she could look at his face over her shoulder. The line of her mouth was even but the muscles at the corner pulled tight.

"Painful memories," she said.

Caine held her gaze. "I got you," he said.

She turned back and settled her head against his chest again. The hawk had drifted east, gone behind the pines. A breeze moved across the pasture and pressed the tall grass flat for a moment before it sprang back.

He let the silence sit. His thumb rubbed once across her stomach, slow, then stopped. He looked out over the field where the light was turning the fence posts into long shadows.

"I met my daughter's mother's new boyfriend the other day," he said.

Laney's head didn't move. Her hand stayed on his, fingers curled loosely around his palm. "Here?" she asked.

"Yeah, at the game," Caine said. "He's in the streets. Thought about asking my potnas about him. Haven't decided yet one way or another."

Laney's thumb pressed into the heel of his palm and held there. "Knowin' 'bout him ain't gonna make you feel better none," she said.

"I ain't say I was mad about it," Caine said. His voice came out flat. His hand settled on her arm just below the elbow, thumb resting against the inside of it.

Laney pulled her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, then let it go. "I ain't say you was." She drew a breath, her ribs expanding against his arms. "I'm just tellin' you from experience. Tommy told me 'bout Claire. Everythin'. It ain't stop him from fuckin' her and it ain't stop her from tellin' me how much better than me she was."

The words landed and sat between them. Caine's jaw shifted. His fingers flexed once against her thigh. The breeze came through again, pushing loose strands of Laney's hair across his chin. Laney's hand went still on his, her thumbnail pressing a faint crescent into the skin below his knuckle.

"Me and Mireya ain't together though, so it's different," he said.

Laney shook her head. "No, it ain't," she said. "Y'all made a child together. There ain't never gonna be a not together in some way."

Caine looked out past the fence line where the shadows from the posts stretched longer across the dirt. He rubbed the side of his jaw with his free hand, fingers dragging against stubble.

"So, you telling me if you was in my shoes," he said, "you wouldn't ask people who you know can tell you something?"

Laney turned her head, cheek lifting off his chest. She looked up at him, eyes steady. "What you doin' with whatever they tell you?"

Caine shrugged. The movement rolled through both of them. "I don't know," he said.

"Exactly." Laney held his eyes for another beat. "You just want to know 'cause you mad and you jealous. If you ask anyone, ask her. Nothin' a woman hates more than men talkin' under her clothes."

Caine sucked his teeth. He dropped his head back against the tree trunk and felt the bark catch his hair. His eyes went up through the branches where the leaves filtered the last of the afternoon light into scattered patches on the ground around them.

~~~
Trell led them up the sidewalk with Ant half a step behind his right shoulder. Shad and Scotty followed, backpacks slung over their shoulders, the straps pulled tight so the bags rode high and flat against their backs.

Two men sat on the porch, one in a plastic chair with his legs stretched out, the other on the railing with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. They nodded when Trell reached the steps. The one in the chair pushed himself up and pulled the screen door open, holding it with his forearm so Trell could walk through without breaking stride. Ant came in behind him. Shad and Scotty filed through last, the screen door wheezing shut on its spring.

Inside, the front room sat dim and warm. A box fan worked from the corner but pushed more noise than air. Yola leaned on the back of a chair, one hand gripping the top rail, the other holding a spoon over a bowl of yakamein. Broth steamed up past his chin. He looked up when they came through, gave a short nod to Trell, and went back to spooning noodles.

Trell stopped at the edge of the kitchen. "Where ol' girl and her kids?"

Yola gestured with the spoon toward a hallway off the kitchen, broth dripping once onto the linoleum. "Desirae back there, but her kids at her mama house. Them lil' niggas kept getting into everything so they just stay there now."

Scotty looked around the front room, eyes moving from the TV to the hallway to the window where the blinds hung crooked. He turned back toward the kitchen.

"Ain't this that nigga Boogie baby mama house?" he asked.

Trell and Ant both snorted laughs at the same time, the sound punching through the room in stereo. Shad looked down at the floor and shook his head.

Trell waved over his shoulder and started toward the back door. The others fell in behind him. Yola set the bowl down on the table, spoon resting against the rim, and followed.

The back door opened onto a yard that was mostly dirt and crabgrass, a chain-link fence running the perimeter with a gap where someone had bent it back near the alley. A storage room sat attached to the back of the house, its door a solid slab of wood with a hasp and padlock. Paint peeled along the frame in long strips.

Trell reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. Three keys on a plain steel loop. He sorted through them with his thumb, found the right one, and worked the padlock open. The hasp swung loose and he pulled the door.

Trell stepped inside. Ant followed. The light from outside cut a hard line across the concrete floor, catching dust in the beam. Garden tools hung on pegs along one wall. Two bags of soil sat stacked on top of an old New Orleans Saints foot locker, the fleur-de-lis logo faded and cracked across the front.

Trell grabbed the first bag of soil by the corner and swung it off the locker, setting it against the wall. Ant took the second one and did the same. The locker sat exposed now, black and gold paint chipped at the edges, latches dull from years of sitting in this room.

They each grabbed a handle. Trell counted with a nod and they lifted, and walked it through the door into the yard.

Trell leaned over the locker and unlatched the hooks one at a time, each one popping with a metallic snap. He shoved the lid open and it fell back on its hinges. Inside, handguns filled the bottom in rows, barrels and grips fitted together. Tec-9s sat along the edges, their angular frames taking up more space. Oil shined on some of the metal. Others looked dry, the finish worn at the contact points.

Trell stood up and wiped his hands together, palms rasping against each other. He turned to Shad, Scotty, and Yola, gesturing with his shoulder toward the open locker.

"Until I figure out why them crackers not sending me the ARs, this what I got for you and the niggas working with y'all," he said.

Shad stepped forward and looked down into the locker. His thumbs hooked under the straps of his backpack. "You think that nigga Meechie making a move soon or something?"

Trell shrugged, one shoulder lifting and dropping. "I don't know," he said. "But make sure every stash, every cookhouse, every trap, every nigga got sticks nearby."

Scotty reached into the footlocker and picked up a pistol. He turned it over in his hand, checking the slide, the grip, the magazine well. He racked the slide back and looked into the chamber, then let it snap forward. His thumb ran along a scratch in the finish near the muzzle.

"This shit might jam on us, big brudda," he said.

Ant crossed his arms over his chest. "Y'all better learn how to clean fucking guns then."

Trell held his hand out toward the locker. "This is the backup shit," he said. "We got a few Dracs, a few ARs, a Kay or two, but like I said. We need more."

Yola shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands sliding into his pockets. "You know I'm always down to make a run to Miami even if it's a business trip."

Trell shook his head. "That was never gonna be permanent. Racist ass crackers." He scratched his chin, stubble scrapping under his fingers. "I'm gonna figure something out."

The back door of the house banged open. Desirae came down the steps in slides and a tank top, her eyes already on the locker before her feet hit the dirt. She stopped three paces from the group and looked down at the open lid, at the rows of handguns and Tec-9s sitting in the sun.

"Y'all niggas got buku guns around my kids?!" she shouted.

Ant pointed at Desirae with his thumb, turning his head toward Yola. "Go handle that, nigga."

Yola shook his head once, already moving. He crossed the distance to Desirae in four steps, put his hand flat against her collarbone, and shoved her back toward the house. She stumbled on the bottom step, caught the railing, and he kept pushing until they were both through the door. It slapped shut behind them. Her voice carried through the walls for another second, then cut off.

Shad pulled the backpack off his shoulder and crouched beside the locker. He unzipped the main compartment and started lifting guns out one at a time, checking each one before setting it into the bag. He laid them flat, alternating grips and barrels so they packed together without shifting.

Scotty watched him for a moment, the pistol he had picked up still in his hand. Then he swung his own backpack down, dropped to a knee beside the locker, and started doing the same.
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Sonny
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Joined: 01 Feb 2026, 18:48

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Post by Sonny » 13 Mar 2026, 00:42

Caesar wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 22:56
Captain Canada wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 10:34
Rylee messy as hell, Mireya is literally insatiable.

You will never beat these allegations, kind sir.
Y'all say she in a relationship with Jaslene. She can't fuck her girlfriend (so y'all say)????
redsox907 wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 20:59
blah blah blah Mireya ain't in a relationship with Jas blah blah blah

Still think this goes sideway for Saul

Caine in his feelings that Laney ain't texting him back while continuing to run through every sorority girl in the south

Still surprised he ain't reach out to the dudes bout Trell, but its coming
:druski:

It's already gone sideways.

Caine -> somehow gets emotionally unsettled by a woman in his life -> fucks a random chick. Tis the way of his life. He's not in his feelings about Laney. He's in his feelings about Mireya.

:hmm:
Sonny wrote:
12 Mar 2026, 21:26
I thought Caine would have all the Trell details by now. He’s too busy being rude to his new lady friend.

Mireya has no limits. Just a sex crazed individual.
He made her breakfast!

The consensus among the readers is that Jaslene is Mireya's girlfriend. This is a completely normal interaction based on the readers' consensus.
he made his breakfast and she could eat if she wanted. Or she can have his sausage.
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redsox907
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Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40

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Post by redsox907 » 13 Mar 2026, 03:53

wonder when Ant gonna take the advice, errybody getting outta dodge but him

Not the first time Mireya's been spotted out in public, only a matter of time until it happens around someone

Laney gonna talk Caine off the ledge like she ain't wild out on Claire last time she seen her lmao
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Captain Canada
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Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15

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Post by Captain Canada » 13 Mar 2026, 10:20

Shocking that Laney is also a hypocrite. Caine ain't much of a thinker when he not around people that are clearly beneath him, huh.

Mireya pretty a superstar ho huh
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Caesar
Chise GOAT
Chise GOAT
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Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47

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Post by Caesar » 14 Mar 2026, 10:24

redsox907 wrote:
13 Mar 2026, 03:53
wonder when Ant gonna take the advice, errybody getting outta dodge but him

Not the first time Mireya's been spotted out in public, only a matter of time until it happens around someone

Laney gonna talk Caine off the ledge like she ain't wild out on Claire last time she seen her lmao
Ant??? Leave??? Fifth Ward Ant don't duck no smoke. :aaron:

:hmm:

But that was Laney to Claire, not Tommy to some buddy of his which is her point. :smart:
Captain Canada wrote:
13 Mar 2026, 10:20
Shocking that Laney is also a hypocrite. Caine ain't much of a thinker when he not around people that are clearly beneath him, huh.

Mireya pretty a superstar ho huh
How is she a hypocrite? All she said was to talk to Mireya about that, not his homeboys because that's what people have done to Laney. Also, Caine ain't make a decision one way or the other.

Hey man. Every other strip club in New Orleans isn't fully nude. You gonna remember seeing all the holes. :druski:
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