Sanauakamba / Momauhtia
Sena came out of her bedroom pulling her hair back with both hands, fingers working through the length of it as she crossed the hall. The apartment smelled stale from the heater running all night, the air warm and close. She let her hair drop against her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.
Cassidy and Priya sat on the couch with a blanket spread across both their laps, the TV playing something she could hear but not place from the kitchen. Cassidy had her legs tucked sideways, her back against the armrest. Priya sat cross-legged with her phone in one hand and a mug balanced on her knee with the other.
Sena tapped the side of the coffee pot with two fingers. Cold. She pulled the carafe out and tipped it, the leftover coffee sloshing dark against the glass, then dumped it into the sink. The liquid spiraled against the steel basin and disappeared.
Cassidy looked over her shoulder at her. "Hey, you want to come out with us tonight?"
Sena set the carafe down and reached for the bag of grounds on the counter. "Depends on where y'all are going."
Priya didn't look up from her phone. "We haven't decided yet. Figured we'd just walk Bourbon until somewhere called to us."
Sena rolled her eyes as she spooned grounds into the filter. "That's how we ended up at Razzoo last time. And those guys kept trying to get us to go home with them."
Cassidy turned more fully on the cushion, her chin resting on the back of the couch. "Isn't that every bar?"
Sena snorted a laugh, the sound pushing through her nose as she slid the filter basket back into the machine. "I'll see. I gotta go to my parents' and I might have to babysit."
Priya's thumb stopped scrolling. She looked up from her phone, her head tilting against the back of the couch. "Girl, fuck that. Tell them couples to find someone else for the night."
Sena held her hands up, palms out, coffee scoop still in one hand. "I said I'll see. That's not a no."
Cassidy smiled and settled back into the cushion, pulling the blanket higher on her lap. "We'll be ready to pregame when you get back from your parents'."
Sena shook her head and turned back to the machine. She filled the reservoir from the tap, the water running loud in the carafe before she poured it in and pressed the button. The machine clicked and started to hiss, a low gurgle building in the base as heat reached the water. She set the carafe on the warming plate and leaned her hip against the counter, her arms crossing over her chest while she waited.
On the couch, Priya murmured something to Cassidy and Cassidy laughed, the sound carrying across the room and settling into the hum of the coffee maker.
…
Sena put her key into the deadbolt and turned it. The lock gave and she pushed the door open, stepping into the foyer. Heat wrapped around her from, the house carrying that dense warmth that came from a kitchen that had been going since early morning. The floors were hardwood and clean, a shoe rack against the wall by the door holding two pairs of her father's work boots and a pair of her mother's house shoes lined up by size.
She called out as she slipped her own shoes off and set them on the rack. "Eomma, Appa. I'm here."
Jihoon sat on the couch in the living room, hunched over a laptop balanced on a throw pillow across his thighs. His fingers moved fast across the keys, his eyes locked on the screen, jaw tight. A cup of tea sat on the end table beside him, the steam long gone.
Sena looked over at him and lifted her chin. "Hey, June."
June looked up at her, his fingers pausing on the keys. "You late. Eomma gonna be mad."
Sena pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. "I'm early."
June snorted a laugh, his attention already sliding back to the laptop. His fingers found their rhythm again and the sound of typing filled the space between them.
Sena tucked her phone away and walked past the living room into the kitchen. The smell hit her as she crossed the threshold. Garlic and sesame oil and something sweet underneath it, caramelized and rich, clinging to the ceiling and the walls. Her father, Sunghoon, stood at the far end of the kitchen table with her brother Taemin beside him. A schematic lay open between them, the paper curling at the edges, held flat by a coffee mug on one corner and Sung's forearm on the other. Tae pointed at something on the drawing and Sung shook his head, his finger tracing a line across the page as he spoke in a low voice. Both of them stayed over the schematic as she passed.
She walked over to where her mother stood behind the stove. Minji had three burners going, her body angled between two pots and a skillet, a wooden spoon in one hand and a pair of metal chopsticks in the other. Her apron was tied tight around her waist and spotted with grease near the hem. Her hair was pinned back with a clip that had slid to one side.
Sena held up the paper bag in her hand. "I bought some of those pastries you like."
Minji set the chopsticks across the rim of the skillet and reached over, pulling the bag open with both hands. She peered inside and her face softened, the lines around her mouth easing as a smile settled there. "Thank you. I've been craving them."
Sena nodded toward the stove, the pots bubbling at different tempos, steam rising and mixing above the burners. "Anything you need help with?"
Minji shook her head, picking the chopsticks back up and turning something in the skillet with a quick flick of her wrist. "I'm almost done. Jihoon said Sophie is on her way from pilates, I think. Taemin didn't say when Vicky would be here."
Sena nodded. "Okay."
She stood there a beat longer than the conversation needed, her fingers finding the edge of the counter behind her. Minji stirred without looking at the pot, her chin tilting, a pause stretching between the last sentence and whatever came next.
"You gonna bring home a nice boy before I grow old and gray?" Minji said.
Sena smiled, the corners pulling up slow. She leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek, her lips pressing into warm skin that smelled like the kitchen. "Let me get into HSC first and then I'll figure that out."
Minji's eyebrows lifted without her turning from the stove. "Only if you promise he'll be a doctor."
Sena shook her head, her smile still there as she pushed off the counter and turned toward the hallway.
She walked toward her old room at the end of the hall, the door cracked open from the last time she'd been here, light from the window cutting a strip across the carpet, Minji's spoon scraping against the bottom of the pot behind her, Sung's voice low and steady as he talked Tae through the schematic, June's keys clicking from the living room, all of it filling the warm air at her back as she went to wait for Sophie and Vicky so they could eat.
~~~
Mireya stood behind a girl at the bursar's counter with her purse strap cutting into her shoulder and her phone dark in her hand. The line had been five people deep when she'd gotten there and had thinned to two, and now it was just her and the girl in front of her, whose voice had gone from polite to tight in the last three minutes.
"Is there any way to break it into more payments?" the girl asked. She leaned forward on the counter, both hands flat on the surface, her fingers pressing white at the tips. "Like six instead of four. Because even with four, I can't do those amounts right now."
The woman behind the glass shook her head, her expression flat with the patience of someone who'd had this conversation forty times that week. "We only offer three or four payment installments. That's all the system allows."
"But I have two scholarships and it's still this much." The girl's voice cracked at the edge. She pulled one hand off the counter and pressed it against her forehead, her fingers spreading into her hairline. "I don't understand how it's still this much."
The woman shifted in her chair and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "The scholarships have already been applied to your balance. What you're seeing is what's remaining after those adjustments."
Mireya watched from behind, her weight settled on one hip, her face still. The girl's shoulders pulled up toward her ears and stayed there, the fabric of her jacket bunching at the collar.
The girl exhaled hard through her nose, the breath shaking as it left her. She reached into her bag and pulled out a debit card first, held it between two fingers, then dug back in and came out with two credit cards fanned against her palm. She set all three on the counter and slid them toward the window.
"Can you split it across these three?"
The woman nodded, taking the cards one at a time, turning each to check the name before feeding them into the reader. The machine beeped three times in succession, a small green light flashing with each approval. She pulled the cards free and held them out with a receipt curling over her knuckles.
The girl took everything back, the cards going into her bag in a loose pile, the receipt folded once and shoved in after them. She turned from the counter and walked past Mireya without looking up. Her steps landed uneven, one foot catching a fraction before the next one found its rhythm, her bag swinging against her hip as she pushed through the door and was gone.
Mireya stepped up to the window, counter cool under her forearms when she leaned on it.
"I'm paying my fee bill. Mireya Rosas."
The woman typed without looking up, her fingers quick on the keyboard, the monitor reflecting in the bottom edge of her glasses. She stopped, read the screen, and turned back to Mireya.
"Your balance is $2,405.17. There will be a 3% service charge if you are paying by card."
Mireya reached into her purse. Her fingers found the debit card by feel, tucked into the small pocket inside the lining. She pulled it out and slid it across the counter, the plastic clicking against the surface as it stopped against the lip of the window.
"Got it, thanks."
The woman looked at her. Her hand rested on the card without picking it up, her eyebrows drawing together a fraction, something from the previous exchange still sitting in her expression. She slid the card over to her side and pushed it into the reader. The machine hummed. The green light blinked.
She pulled the card free and held it out toward Mireya. "You want the receipt printed or emailed?"
Mireya took the card back and tucked it into her purse, her thumb pressing it flat into the pocket. "Email is fine."
The woman clicked something on her screen and nodded. "I just sent it to you."
"Thanks, have a good one."
Mireya pushed off the counter and turned, her purse settling against her side as she headed for the exit. The hallway opened up past the financial aid offices, the foot traffic thickening as students crossed in both directions between buildings. She followed the flow toward the doors that let out near the library, the tile under her shoes giving way to concrete and then the wide sidewalk that ran along the front of the building.
The air outside hit cold against her face and the tops of her hands. She turned down the sidewalk, her stride steady, her breath forming a faint cloud that broke apart before it cleared her chin.
Behind her, she heard voices. A group of guys, three or four of them from the sound of it, their words running into each other, loud, the cadence of people who owned whatever sidewalk they were on. The voices grew closer, footsteps heavier than hers, their conversation gaining texture as the distance closed.
One of them shouted over the others. "Nigga, you a fucking fool, Meech."
Mireya's stride broke. Her right foot landed and her left hung for a fraction before it found the ground, the rhythm gone. Her hand drifted to the clasp of her purse and her fingers starting to reach inside.
Another voice, laughing. "Meech one of them nasty niggas fuck anything."
She stopped. Both feet planted, her body locked from the ankles up, her hand white-knuckled on the strap. Her eyes moved fast, scanning the sidewalk ahead, the lawn to her left, the building entrance to her right, mapping exits and distance and open ground without deciding to. Her pulse pushed hard enough that she could feel it in her wrists and behind her ears.
Her entire hand went into the purse.
The group walked past her, their hoodies and jackets brushing, sneakers scraping concrete. Two of them looked back at her over their shoulders, their faces pulling into confusion, brows furrowed at the woman standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk staring at them.
Mireya looked at them, searched the jawlines, the builds, the set of their shoulders, and found nothing that registered, nothing that matched.
They kept walking, ten feet and then fifteen, their voices folding back into each other, the name already buried under new jokes and new noise, gone as fast as it had arrived because nobody in that group knew what they'd just done.
Mireya pulled in a breath. It shook going down, her chest expanding in a stuttered hitch that she held at the top before letting it go through her mouth. Her hand came up and ran through her hair, fingers dragging from her forehead to the back of her head, pulling strands loose from where they'd been tucked behind her ear.
Then she started walking again.
~~~
Caine sat at a table outside of the taqueria in USC Village with Cam across from him and Alonzo to his left, all three of them with trays of tacos spread out in front of them. The sun pressed warm through a thin overcast. The sidewalk traffic moved steady past the tables, students and locals crossing between the shops and the campus in both directions.
Cam laughed, his hand hitting the table once, the trays jumping. "Nah, what I'm saying is the shit different. Being in the desert a different kind of living."
Caine picked up one of his tacos, took a bite and talked around it. "Yeah, it ain't as fucking hot. I ain't never been to Vegas but you not about to convince me that 85 with no humidity is worse than the shit in New Orleans."
Alonzo shook his head, his chin dipping as he tore open a sauce packet with his teeth. "You ain't used to it, though. Gonna be gasping for air with how dry that shit is."
Cam tipped his head back, his mouth opening, his tongue pushing out as he mimed trying to taste the air. "Nothing but sand in that shit."
Caine waved his hand, still chewing. "I'll take that shit over feeling like I'm getting fucking waterboarded."
Cam pointed at him with a folded taco, salsa dripping off the edge onto the tray. "Just ask Rachaad to take you to his grandmama house. Them Pirus might pull some CIA shit on you to make you feel at home."
Caine's eyebrow came up. "I thought Angel said he be having y'all around Hoovers."
Alonzo squeezed the sauce packet onto his taco in a long line, the red pooling against the shell. "His mama stay around them niggas. His grandma stay in Compton around Pirus."
Caine shook his head, reaching for a napkin from the dispenser between them. "All that Bloods, Crips shit don't make no sense to me."
Cam leaned back in his chair and spread his hands, taco in one. "I know you ain't one of them square niggas. Rainbow coalition ass nigga. Jesse Jackson ass nigga."
Caine snorted a laugh, the sound pushing through his nose. "Never that. We just ain't got that in the city."
Alonzo tapped Cam with the back of his hand, his knuckles catching Cam's forearm. "You notice this nigga call New Orleans 'the city' like it's big shit?"
Cam nodded, his laugh building on top of Alonzo's. "Yeah I did clock that shit."
Caine set his taco down and wiped his fingers on the napkin, his mouth pulling at one side. "Vegas wish it could be half the city New Orleans is. Don't start that shit."
Cam opened his mouth, his hand already lifting to fire back, and Alonzo leaned forward with both elbows on the table, ready to stack on top of whatever came next.
Caine's eyes moved past both of them.
Autumn came down the sidewalk with a friend beside her, the two of them in conversation, bags on their shoulders. They turned toward the taqueria entrance, Autumn's stride slowing a half step as her head turned and she found Caine looking at her. One corner of her mouth tipped up. She held the look for a beat, then turned forward and walked inside with her friend, the door swinging shut behind them.
Caine grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and wiped his hands, pressing the paper into each finger. "I'm gonna be right back."
He pushed his chair back and stood, dropping the napkin on his tray. Cam and Alonzo watched him go, Cam's eyebrows climbing as Caine walked toward the door and pulled it open.
Inside, the taqueria ran narrow, a counter along the left wall with a menu board overhead and a pickup window past the register. Autumn and her friend stood at the counter, her friend reading the board with her chin tilted up, Autumn already giving her order to the cashier with her card in her hand.
Autumn moved to tap her card against the reader. Caine stepped around her and tapped his own card before hers could connect, the reader beeping once, the screen flashing green.
"Nah, I got it. My treat."
Autumn pulled her card back and looked at him, her chin dipping. She nodded toward her friend. "Gonna need you to get my girl's food too then."
Caine smirked. "That ain't no problem." He looked at the cashier and nodded toward the friend. "I got hers, too."
The cashier nodded. The friend ordered and Caine tapped his card again, the reader cycling through a second time. Autumn raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing loosely over her chest as she walked over to the pickup side of the counter with her friend to wait for their food.
Caine finished with the cashier and took a step over to stand beside her, his hands going into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm trying to see what you got."
Autumn's eyes stayed on the kitchen window where a cook was working a flat top behind the glass. "You could've just looked at the receipt and been on your way."
"Nah, I'd rather see it, so I get it right if I'm trying to be sweet."
Autumn turned her head toward him, just enough that he could see her full expression, mouth flat but eyes holding something sharper. "A bit presumptive to think there would ever be a situation that you'd be ordering my food."
"Crazier shit has happened."
"Can't argue with you there." She paused, her eyes passing over his face once before she spoke again. "Did this work before? Where are you transferring from?"
"I was in Statesboro. Georgia."
Autumn laughed, the sound soft in the restaurant. "So, yes."
Caine held his hands up, palms open, the jacket pulling at his shoulders with the motion. "It ain't never failed me yet. Sometimes, it just take time."
A worker came to the pickup window and held out two bags, the paper already darkening at the bottom from grease. Autumn took her bag and turned to leave, her eyes catching Caine's one more time. She winked, the motion quick and deliberate.
"Thanks for the free food, Caine."
The two of them walked out, Autumn's friend already opening her bag as they pushed through the door. Caine watched them go, his eyes following Autumn's stride as she moved down the sidewalk, the view holding his attention for a beat before he turned and pushed through the door himself.
He walked back to the table and dropped into his chair. Cam looked at him, then at where the two women had disappeared down the block, then back at Caine.
"You know it's other bitches here."
Caine snorted a laugh.
~~~
Mireya walked up to Sara's apartment with a plastic bag swinging from her wrist. She reached the door and pulled her keyring from her purse, finding the key by the cover Sara had put on it and sliding it into the deadbolt. The lock turned and she pushed the door open a few inches, then knocked twice on the frame.
"Soy yo."
Sara looked up from the couch, her phone in one hand. "Estoy aqui."
Mireya closed the door behind her and walked into the living room, the bag rustling against her thigh. She crossed to the armchair across from Sara and dropped into it, her body sinking into the cushion, the breath coming out of her in a long exhale that emptied her lungs to the bottom.
She held up the bag. "I was on my way home to take a nap before I went get Camila and thought I'd bring you something to eat instead."
Sara smiled, setting her phone face down on the cushion beside her. She reached out and took the bag, the plastic crinkling as she set it on the coffee table and pulled the handles apart. "I'm supposed to be the one that feeds everyone, mija."
Mireya's mouth pulled at one corner. "I know. That's why I did it."
Sara lifted the styrofoam container out and popped the lid. A shrimp po-boy sat inside, dressed, the bread still holding its shape where the grease had started to soak through the bottom. Sara looked at Mireya over the open lid, her smile widening.
"Gracias." She set the container on her lap and reached for a napkin from inside the bag. "I keep getting sidetracked looking at these listings for Caine so I haven't eaten yet."
Mireya's eyebrow came up. "Listings?"
Sara's face shifted, her brows drawing together, her chin pulling back a fraction. "He hasn't told you?"
Mireya shook her head. "No."
Sara stared at her. The po-boy sat open on her lap, untouched, and Sara's eyes moved across Mireya's face in a slow pass, reading whatever she could find there. The refrigerator hummed from the kitchen and the clock on the wall above the doorway ticked steady into the space between them. Sara held the look long enough that Mireya's posture shifted against the back of the chair, her chin lifting a fraction.
"He needs to buy a house here so he doesn't have to pay the taxes in California," Sara said.
Mireya's fingers found the seam of the armrest and pressed into it, the fabric bunching under her nails. "Must be a fucking nice problem to have."
Sara caught it. The tone sat between them for a beat, sharp, and Sara let it pass without reaching for it. She picked up half of the po-boy, the bread flexing where the shrimp pressed against it, and took a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and wiped the corner of her mouth with the napkin before she spoke again.
"It'll be nice for us to all have somewhere permanent, not paying a landlord trying to throw us out because they want to raise the rent."
Mireya's fingers eased on the armrest. She let her hand slide to her lap, one thumb running over the other. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, it makes sense. I'm sure the taxes in California are crazy."
Sara nodded, her head dipping with emphasis. "A lot is an understatement."
"Why doesn't he get a real estate agent to do this?"
Sara tore a piece of bread from the edge of the po-boy and ate it, her eyes lifting to the ceiling for a second before coming back down. "I'm looking for one. Another one anyway. The one that helped me find this place was too smooth and talked me right out of my calzones." She paused, the napkin pressed to her lips, her eyes cutting to Mireya over the top of it. "Until he told me he was married."
Mireya's fingers pressed into the fabric of the armrest, her knuckles going pale against the upholstery. Her face stayed flat, the muscles around her mouth holding still. "Men are garbage."
Sara tilted her head, a small concession. "You're not wrong." She set the po-boy half down in the container and wiped her fingers on the napkin, folding it once before dropping it beside the box. "But what's that y'all kids say? This is how you know sexuality isn't a choice because I wouldn't choose men?"
Mireya laughed. The sound broke quick and genuine, her shoulders lifting with it, the tension in the armrest releasing as her hands came to her lap. "Yep. Exactly."
Sara nodded toward the kitchen, her chin lifting in that direction. "Go get a plate so I can give you half of this."
Mireya waved her hand, palm flat, fingers cutting a short arc. "That's for you."
Sara shook her head, her mouth pressing flat. "Y te voy a dar la mitad. Ahora vete, mija."
Mireya sighed, her ribs pressing against the breath on its way out. She pushed herself up from the armchair and walked to the kitchen.
~~~
Autumn lay on the pool lounger with her legs crossed at the ankle and a book open across her stomach, the pages flattened under the weight of her phone resting on top of them. The sun sat low enough that it came through the fence slats and the hedge line in long strips, warming the concrete deck in patches and leaving the rest in shade. The pool surface caught what light made it through and held it still, the water flat and green-blue, untouched.
A pair of sunglasses sat pushed up into her hair, holding it back off her forehead. The neighbor's yard held the distant sound of a leaf blower, the motor rising and falling as whoever operated it worked their way along a property line.
The sliding door opened behind her, the glass rolling in its track with a low hiss. Autumn looked back over her shoulder.
Nadine crossed the deck in house shoes, an envelope held out in front of her. Her blouse was tucked into slacks and her reading glasses hung from a chain against her chest, swinging with each step.
"Looks like word back on one of the scholarships you applied for."
Autumn took the envelope from her. She turned it over once, checked the return address printed in the upper left corner, then slid her thumb under the flap and opened it in one clean pull, the paper tearing in a straight line along the seam.
She pulled the letter out, unfolded it, and read it with her eyes moving across the page in two steady passes, her expression giving nothing until she reached the bottom. She folded the letter back along its creases, precise, matching the folds to where they'd been, and slid it into the envelope. She set it on the table between the loungers, the paper bright against the dark glass surface.
"I got it."
Nadine smiled, her hand coming to rest on the back of the lounger. "Good job, baby."
She stayed there for a beat, her fingers tapping once against the frame before she straightened. "We're going to have dinner with Mr. Roland, Mrs. Gail and Jason tonight."
Autumn shifted on the lounger, pulling one knee up. "Is daddy back in town?"
Nadine nodded. "He got back from Sacramento a couple hours ago but went downtown to take care of some things. He should be home soon."
Autumn smiled, her chin lifting. "Okay. Just let me know when you need me to get ready."
"Thank you, baby." Nadine turned toward the house, her shoes scraping softly on the textured concrete. She got two steps before she stopped, her hand finding the doorframe, and turned back. Her head tilted as she looked at Autumn, one finger tapping the frame twice before she spoke.
"I heard that you decided to run for financial secretary?"
Autumn nodded, her hand finding the edge of the book on her stomach and holding it there. "Paula's always doing some shady shit and I think everyone's tired of it. At least, everyone I talk to."
Nadine's eyebrows lifted a fraction, the expression measured, professional even in her own backyard. "You got your line behind you?"
"Absolutely. We've been talking about it since last semester."
Nadine folded her arms loosely, her weight settling against the doorframe. "Good. I know y'all are thick as thieves but sometimes feelings get hurt if someone tries to force someone else out before they leave on their own."
Autumn's mouth pulled steady, her posture unchanged on the lounger. "I think everyone will survive and we'll be better off for it."
Nadine watched her for a second, her chin dipping once in a slow nod before the rest followed. "I know you'll do well, baby, you always do."
She turned back toward the house, stepping through the open doorframe. The cool air from inside pressed against the warmth of the deck, the two temperatures meeting in the gap where the glass door sat open. She called back over her shoulder without turning. "Text your daddy and ask him when he's going to be done downtown so we can decide when we're going over to the Suttons."
Autumn's head tilted. "Which phone? Personal or Political?"
Nadine stopped inside the doorframe, her shoulder against the glass. "Do both. I never know which one that man is going to answer first."
Autumn reached for her phone on the table between the loungers, her fingers closing around it and pulling it to her lap. "Alright, both it is."
~~~
Caine and Tatum came through the tunnel entrance and stepped onto the arena floor, a security escort peeling off behind them as they moved along the sideline toward their seats. The court stretched out ahead of them, the hardwood gleaming under lights bright enough to flatten every shadow in the building. The stands rose in steep tiers on all sides, filling with bodies and noise, the upper decks already packed and the lower bowl still settling in waves of people finding their sections and threading between knees.
Caine looked around. The Lakers' warm-up stretched across the near end of the court, the ball popping off the hardwood in sharp, staccato rhythms, sneakers barking on the finish as players cut through layup lines. A bass-heavy track pushed through the arena speakers, the sound thick enough to feel in the floor under his shoes. Across the court, the Blazers ran their own drills in the opposite colors, red and black against the purple and gold.
He'd played in stadiums with more people. He'd played in front of crowds loud enough to make his offensive line miss snap counts. But the games were different. This was something else. This was standing on the edge of it and seeing it from the side the money sat on, a vantage point that hadn’t existed two weeks ago.
Tatum threw an arm around his shoulders, his hand gripping Caine's far shoulder and giving it a shake. "Don't look so starstruck, kid. You're fucking USC's prized possession now. You gotta start acting like it." He let his arm drop and pointed out across the court with two fingers. "Just wait until the season starts, we're gonna make you bigger than fucking God."
Caine laughed, his head shaking once. "As long as you make sure I got enough money to give to my abuela so she can pray for my soul for that."
Tatum's eyebrows lifted. "She's Roman Catholic?"
Caine nodded. "Of course."
Tatum whistled, low and appreciative, a smile pulling across his face. "Guess we'll have to make sure she's giving a million bucks or so to the parish because you know those Catholics love their money."
Caine laughed again as the two of them reached their seatst, close enough that the players' sneakers squeaked at a pitch that cut through the arena noise. The chairs were padded, wider than standard, with cup holders built into the armrests.
Tatum's face changed before he sat down. His eyes locked on the man seated in the chair beside his, and his whole posture opened, shoulders squaring, his hand already reaching out. The man stood with the motion, meeting Tatum's hand in a dap that pulled into a half embrace, their shoulders bumping once before they separated.
"Just when I was thinking about calling your ass I run into you here," Tatum said.
The man laughed, his chain catching the arena light as he settled back to his full height. "I know you good enough to know you knew I was gonna be here."
Tatum held his hands up, palms open. "I wouldn't be good at my job if I didn't."
He looked back at Caine, one hand gesturing from Caine to the man. "Caine, this is my guy Rio Santana. The next big thing in West Coast rap."
Rio shook his head, the motion slow and definitive. "I'm already a big thing, motherfucker." He looked at Caine and held his hand out. "What's up, bro?"
Caine dapped him up. "Ain't nothing."
Tatum put a hand on Caine's shoulder. "Caine's SC's new quarterback. Just trying to get him at the same tables the movers and shakers are at."
Rio laughed, leaning back, his eyes moving between the two of them. "You let this motherfucker be your agent?"
Caine shrugged, one shoulder lifting and dropping. "He got me paid. I ain't got no complaints yet."
Tatum snapped his fingers and pointed at Caine, the motion sharp. "See? That's why you should just sign that damn contract so I can get you paid, too."
Rio started to sit down, lowering himself into his chair with one hand bracing on the armrest. Tatum and Caine followed, the three of them settling into the row. Rio leaned back, one ankle crossing over his knee, his arm stretched along the back of his seat.
"I'll think about it. Let's talk next week."
Tatum nodded, his hands coming together in his lap. "You got it, my guy."
Caine settled into his seat, his back pressing into the padding, his hands resting on the armrests. On the court, the Lakers broke their warm-up huddle and spread back out across the baseline, the Blazers doing the same on the far end. The lights held steady overhead and the noise built in layers around him as the clock on the scoreboard ticked toward tip-off.
Also, if Tatum's daughter was at USC, either he would've led with that to get Caine there and pimped her ass out or avoided it at all costs 
