Mireya came through the daycare door and let it pull shut behind her. Cars angled into faded lines across the lot, hoods catching the flat white of an overcast morning. She reached up and slid her sunglasses off the top of her head, ran her hand through her hair once, feeling the weight of it shift across her shoulders, and settled the frames down over her eyes.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out with two fingers and found her aunt Carmen's name across the top.
Mireya sighed, pressing accept and bringing the phone to her ear.
"Hola, tía."
"Mireya, ¿cómo estás?"
"I'm fine."
Carmen sighed on the other end. "Can you come by? I want to talk to you. It's been long enough that we have been at each other."
Mireya pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the time then she brought the phone back.
"I have class in an hour and a half."
"Mireya, por favor. No te quitaré mucho tiempo."
Mireya shook her head, already walking toward her car. "I'll be there in five minutes."
"Gracias. See you soon."
The line went dead. Mireya dropped the phone back into her pocket, her keys already out, and pulled the car door open. She got in, started the engine, and backed out of the space.
…
Mireya took the stairs without slowing, her knuckles rapping twice on the door before she pushed it open. The hinges gave without resistance. Months since she'd last done this, and her body still moved through the motion.
"Soy yo."
"In here, Mireya."
Mireya stepped into the apartment and turned toward the living room. Her feet stopped before her brain caught up.
Her mother stood on the far side of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, her chin lifted, her mouth set in a line. Carmen stood between them with both hands raised, palms out, fingers spread. The three of them formed a triangle with Carmen at its center, her body angled toward Mireya, her weight on the balls of her feet.
"We're family," Carmen said. "No deberíamos estar peleando."
Mireya's jaw tightened. Her hand was still on the door behind her, fingers curled around the edge of it, and she could feel the pull of the hinges against her grip. She looked at Carmen, then past her at Maria, then back at Carmen.
"I have nothing to say to her."
Maria scoffed, a short push of air through her nose. "Rich coming from a disappointment like you." She uncrossed one arm long enough to gesture at Mireya. "I should've gave up on you when you got pregnant como una puta. But I gave you too many chances because that's what a mother does."
"Maria, please." The tendons in Carmen's neck pulled taut.
Mireya's head tilted. "Nah." Her voice dropped flat. "Let her say how she really feels."
Maria took a step forward, her arms recrossing tighter against her ribs. "¿Dónde está mi nieta? Has Caine taken her from you now that he's got all his football money with the drug money?"
Mireya's chin came up a fraction. "I'm sure you would love if he did that."
Maria's mouth pulled into something between a smile and a sneer. "You have no idea. Es un animal. Acabarán con él." Her eyes moved over Mireya's face, slow, measuring. "¿Y tú? Quizás le hagas un favor a mi nieta y te maten a ti también."
Carmen's hand flew to her mouth. "¡Ya basta, María!"
Mireya felt the words land in the center of her chest, felt them sit there with their full weight, and her teeth clenched until her molars ached. Her pulse knocked hard at the base of her throat. She swallowed once against the pressure of it.
"Tienes razón, perra." Mireya's voice came out low and even. "Prefiero morir antes que dejarte criar a mi hija."
Maria's chin came up. "God willing." Her eyes held Mireya's across the room, unblinking. "From your lips to the ears of La Virgen herself."
Mireya gathered the saliva in her mouth and spat on the floor between them. The sound of it hitting the tile cut through the room.
"Fuck you. I don't need this shit."
She turned and crossed the three steps back to the door.
"Mireya, wait, please."
Mireya’s hand found the knob and ripped the door open, the hinges catching hard against the wall, and she stepped through and slammed it behind her. The bang traveled through the frame and into the stairwell.
She ran a shaky hand through her hair as she took the steps down to the parking lot, her fingers catching in a knot near the ends and pulling through it. Her keys pressed sharp against her palm where she'd been gripping them since she'd walked in.
~~~
Caine pulled the glass door open and stepped into the lobby. The floor was polished concrete, the walls white and lined with framed black-and-white photos of athletes mid-motion, a sprinter breaking tape, a swimmer surfacing, a pitcher's arm cocked back at full extension. The space smelled faintly of espresso and something botanical he couldn't place.
The receptionist looked up from her desk, her fingers pausing over her keyboard. She smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Guerra. Tatum's in his office. Would you like some coffee, tea, kombucha or water?"
Caine shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."
He nodded once and turned down the hallway, passing the photos without looking at them. Doors lined the left side, most of them closed, voices behind one of them going back and forth over speakerphone. Tatum's office was the last one before the corner, the nameplate on the wall beside the frame reading TATUM REESE in small block letters.
Tatum stood at the window with his phone pressed to his ear, his free hand in his pocket. He wore a navy crew neck over slacks, the sleeves pushed to his forearms, a watch catching the light when he shifted his weight. Downtown filled the glass behind him, the buildings pale and sharp, the morning sun cutting hard across their western faces and throwing long shadows down into the streets below.
The office itself was clean without being empty. A desk pushed against the side wall instead of centered, two leather armchairs angled toward each other with a low table between them, a whiteboard on the far wall with names and figures written in dry-erase marker, half of them circled.
Tatum turned when he heard the footsteps. He smiled and lifted his chin toward the armchairs. Caine crossed the room and sat, settling into the leather, one ankle over his knee, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. Through the glass behind Tatum, a helicopter tracked north along the skyline, small and steady.
"Yeah, let's connect over lunch and get the paperwork hammered out," Tatum said into the phone, his eyes on Caine as he spoke. He paced a short line along the window, two steps and back, his free hand coming out of his pocket to punctuate something the other person was saying. "It should be pretty straightforward. Alright, talk soon."
He pulled the phone from his ear, tapped the screen, and slid it into his back pocket. He crossed to Caine and extended his hand. Caine took it, and they pulled in, shoulders bumping once before separating. Tatum dropped into the other chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them.
"Nike called me about the Spanish-language campaign they want you in."
Caine nodded. "They mentioned that shit when I did that last thing."
"It's all lined up if you want to pull the trigger on it."
"How much?"
Tatum held one hand up. "For Spanish? Seventy. I'm not accepting anything less from them." He tilted his head, one corner of his mouth pulling up. "They can go ChatGPT that shit if they don't want to pay it."
Caine shrugged, one shoulder lifting and dropping. "Works for me."
"Good." Tatum sat back, crossing one leg over the other. "I've been working some other things. But I wanted to check in with you to make sure we're not burning the proverbial candle at both ends."
"I ain't playing ball right now," he said. "I'll do a few hours of this shit everyday for tens of thousands of dollars, bruh."
Tatum laughed, his hands lifting off the armrests, palms out. "Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure." He brought his hands back down and tapped the leather twice with his fingertips. "You've only been in LA for three, four weeks. We still got at least another eight or nine months to make money."
"More than that if they fix that second year shit."
Tatum waved off the comment "I'm working on that. It'll be an easier argument once you start putting wins up in the fall, though."
He paused. His eyes moved to the window for a beat, tracking the same stretch of skyline Caine had been looking past since he sat down. When he turned back his weight shifted forward in the chair, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs again.
"So, let me tell you about this other stuff and see where you land on it."
Caine leaned back in his chair, his fingers curling over the ends of the armrests. "Let's hear it."
~~~
Tessa stood at the dresser with the polo folded over one arm, her reflection split between the mirror and the closet door behind her. She pulled the shirt over her head and tugged it down past her waist, smoothing the hem where it caught against her jeans. She picked up the brush from the dresser and worked it through her hair in short pulls, tilting her head to get at a tangle near her ear.
Behind her, E.J. lay in bed with the comforter pulled up past his chin, the fabric bunched over one shoulder, only the top of his forehead and his eyes visible above the edge. One arm hung off the side of the mattress, knuckles brushing the carpet.
Tessa set the brush down and walked into the bathroom. The light clicked on and the fan started with a low rattle. She picked up the perfume bottle from the counter and sprayed twice, once at her neck and once at her wrist, rubbing them together before setting the bottle back. She came back into the bedroom, her shoes already on, her purse on the chair by the door.
E.J. pushed the comforter off his face and sat up slightly, propping himself on one elbow. His eyes were narrow with sleep, lids heavy, the pillow creased into his cheek.
"Fuck you putting all that perfume on for?" he asked. "One of them UPS niggas?"
Tessa's hand paused on the zipper of her purse. "God forbid I want to fucking smell good when I'm around people."
E.J. sucked his teeth and dropped his head back down to the pillow, his face turning into the fabric. "Like y'all ain't known for smelling like dog anyway."
"Fuck you, E.J."
His voice came muffled from the pillow. "You don't even do that no more so tell your little rose fuck you."
Tessa's hand came off the purse. She turned from the chair, her weight shifting onto her back foot, her chin lifting. "Yeah because you've been a fucking bitch for almost a fucking year. You chose to come here. I had no problem coming alone."
E.J. rolled over onto his back, the sheets twisting around his legs, and pulled himself up until he was sitting against the headboard. The comforter pooled at his waist. "Don't act like you ain't fucking beg me to move to this motherfucker with you."
Tessa's voice went up, her hands spreading at her sides. "You could've said no!"
"Bullshit." E.J. jabbed a finger toward her. "How you were acting? Probably would've run to the jakes as soon as you was out the city."
Tessa took a step toward the bed, her arms crossing over her chest, her jaw set. "A criminal getting arrested for doing criminal shit. Oh no. What a fucking travesty. Fucking spare me."
E.J.'s hand dropped to the mattress. "Watch what the fuck you're saying, Tessa."
Tessa rolled her eyes, her head tilting back before coming level again. "Do I need to watch what I'm saying if I tell you it's time for you to get off your fucking ass and go get a motherfucking job?"
"I'm bringing in money." E.J.'s palm pressed flat against the sheet beside his thigh. "More money than you."
Tessa sucked her teeth, the sound sharp enough to cut across the room. "Go claim it on your taxes then."
E.J. waved his hand, a loose flick of his wrist. "I ain't trying to hear that shit."
"And I ain't trying to hear you fucking bitching any more but here we fucking are." Tessa grabbed her purse off the chair and slung the strap over her shoulder. She turned for the door and pulled it open hard enough that it knocked against the wall behind it. Her footsteps went fast down the hallway, shoes hitting the floor in a rhythm that didn't slow.
E.J. shoved the comforter off his legs and swung his feet to the carpet. "Tessa, get your fucking ass back here! I ain't done!"
The front door slammed. The sound punched through the apartment and then everything went still.
~~~
Caine cut through Alumni Park on the long side, his bag slung over one shoulder. The path split around a stand of trees ahead of him, students moving both directions, some with earbuds in and heads down, others grouped on the grass with laptops open and coffee cups wedged into the dirt beside them. The sun came through the branches overhead in broken pieces and laid patterns across the concrete that moved when the wind did.
Three students stood at the fork in the path with a folding table between them, a stack of pamphlets weighed down with a water bottle, and a clipboard resting on top. Behind them a hand-painted sign leaned against a tree trunk, the letters thick and uneven in red and black paint: DEFUND ICE. Two of them were talking to a girl who had stopped mid-stride, her backpack still half-zipped. The third turned toward Caine as he came up on them.
"Hey, bro. You got a minute?"
Caine slowed and changed his line, stepping off the path toward the table. He held his hand out and the guy placed a pamphlet into it, the paper glossy and folded in thirds. Caine opened it and scanned the inside. Photos of detention facilities, a block of text about deportation numbers, a QR code at the bottom linking somewhere.
The guy leaned in, one hand braced on the table's edge. "A lot of people have forgotten that the regime was sending ICE everywhere back in 2025 and 2026, but even if they get voted out in November, the next one needs to defund the fucking Gestapo, man."
Caine looked up from the pamphlet. He folded it once and held his hand out for the clipboard. "You ain't gotta convince me, bruh. Mi abuelo y abuela came here on a banana boat."
The guy's face changed. His chin pulled back and a grin broke across his mouth. "¿Eres latino?"
Caine nodded. "Sí, soy hondureño."
The guy reached out and took Caine's hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug, their shoulders bumping once before they separated. "Bro, soy nicaragüense. My name's Guillermo but everyone calls me Memo."
"Caine,” Caine said. "Tenemos que mantenernos unidos con todos estos mexicanos que hay por aquí.”
Memo's laugh came out loud enough that one of the other activists looked over. "Coño, lo sé, mano."
Caine took the pen clipped to the top of the clipboard and signed his name on the next open line, his handwriting small and angled hard to the right. He handed the clipboard back. Memo tucked it under his arm and pointed at Caine with the pen before dropping it into his pocket.
"Deberías venir a conocer el LSA."
Caine nodded. "Ya lo vi. Lo haré."
Memo dapped him up again, the motion quick. "I'll see you around, mano."
He turned to another student passing the table, already stepping into their path with his hand out and his pitch starting over. Caine folded the pamphlet a second time and slid it into his back pocket.
He turned around and Autumn was standing a few feet behind him.
Her eyebrow was up. Her arms were crossed low over her bag strap, her weight on one hip, her head tilted at an angle.
"It ain't polite to eavesdrop, you know," Caine said.
"Well, I don't speak Spanish so I don't think this would qualify as eavesdropping." The corner of her mouth pulled. "But you're just a bag of surprises, aren't you?"
"What you mean?"
Autumn shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and uncrossed her arms. "First you tell me you got a kid, which isn't all that surprising, but now I just walk up on you holding an entire conversation in a different language and signing petitions?" She glanced past him toward the table and the sign against the tree. "To defund ICE?"
Caine shrugged, one shoulder lifting. "Fuck 'em."
Autumn's mouth pressed flat, but her eyes stayed on his face, moving across it. "Not very brand aware if you're trying to reach across the cultural divide."
"Guess I'll just have to eat that L then because ain't no fucking way I ain’t for that." Caine's hand gestured toward the sign. "Even if you take everything else out, they still fucking pigs."
Autumn stared at him. The breeze moved a strand of hair across her forehead and she left it there. Students passed behind her on the path, their voices blending into the noise of the park.
"That's refreshing," she said.
"What?"
Autumn shrugged, then gestured with her chin toward the far side of the park, past the trees and the grass and the students scattered across it. "I'm heading to the Village. You want to come? Tell me how you know Spanish?"
Caine smiled. He nodded over his shoulder toward the path she'd pointed at. "Yeah, vámonos."
~~~
Mireya sat on the couch, one leg tucked under her and her elbow resting on the armrest, her phone face down on the cushion beside her. Gabe leaned toward her with one arm stretched along the back of the couch behind her head and the other draped across her body, his fingers resting against her far hip, keeping her turned toward him.
"You know I been trying to fuck with you since we were in high school," he said.
Mireya laughed, her head tipping back against his arm. "Please, Gabe. The only reason you wanted to do that was because you were trying to find someone to do your shit for you so they ain't kick you off the basketball team."
Gabe laughed, holding both hands up, palms out, the motion pulling his arm off the couch back for a second before it came right back. "A nigga could have multiple reasons to do some shit." His eyes moved over her face, then lower, then back up. "You badder now than you was back then though."
Mireya raised an eyebrow. "Back when I was a sophomore and you were a senior? I'd hope I'm badder now, baby."
A corner of Gabe's mouth tipped up. "We both grown now, though."
Mireya nodded, her chin dipping once. "That we are."
He leaned in. His mouth found hers and she let him press into her, his hand sliding from her hip down to her thigh and gripping, pulling her toward him until her back hit the cushion and he was over her, his weight braced on one arm beside her head. Her hands went to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his chest, over his shoulders, forcing them apart for the half-second it took to clear his head. He tossed it somewhere behind the couch and came back down. His hand ran up her body, fingers pushing the fabric of her hoodie up past her stomach, the cotton bunching against his wrist. Her skin prickled where the air hit it.
The front door opened.
Mireya's grip locked on his shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscle. Her heartbeat punched hard into her throat and her breathing cut short, each pull through her nose coming shallow and fast. The room narrowed at the edges. She kept her eyes on the ceiling above Gabe's shoulder and held herself there, held the shape of the room together, held the couch under her back and the weight on top of her as something she'd chosen.
Gabe looked back over his shoulder. Three bodies came through the door mid-conversation, Dillard basketball duffel bags hanging off their shoulders, one of them already kicking his shoes off at the threshold. The smell of gym sweat and cold air came in with them.
Gabe dropped his head, his forehead almost touching Mireya's collarbone. "Thought coach had y'all doing extra shit?"
The first one through the door, Avion, looked at Mireya on the couch and then at Gabe above her, his eyes tracking the scene in one pass. "Nigga, you acted like you was hurt to come get some pussy?"
Mireya's breathing evened out. Slow pulls through her nose, each one a fraction longer than the one before. Her heartbeat stayed in her ears though, the thud of it sitting behind everything else, too fast and too loud. Her fingers loosened on Gabe's shoulders, one at a time, but the tension stayed in her forearms.
Gabe pushed himself up from the couch and sat back, reaching for Mireya's hand. "C'mon. We'll go in my room."
Mike, the second one, dropped his duffel by the door and laughed. "Nigga had to show us he be getting bitches after Jakiyah shot him down."
Mireya laughed, the sound coming out easy even with the pulse still knocking at her temples. She stayed where she was, back to the cushions, hoodie pushed up. "Damn, Gabe. I'm a rebound?"
Gabe sucked his teeth, his jaw setting as he looked at his roommates. "Y'all blocking." The words came out through his teeth.
Justin, the third, set his bag down slow and shook his head. "Because you being selfish with your company."
Avion held his hand out, palm down, patting the air. "Chill, chill." He looked at Gabe. "We'll come back in an hour. Let you do your thing."
Mireya's pulse was still there, thudding behind her eardrums, each beat distinct. Her mother's voice threaded through it, the words from that morning sitting in her chest where they'd landed and stayed. She looked at Gabe, then past him at Avion, at Mike, at Justin. She let her eyes settle on each of them for a beat before she came back to Gabe.
She shrugged. "I'm down."
Gabe looked at her. "Down for what?"
Justin's hands spread wide, his head tilting. "Nigga, is you slow?" He gestured at all of them, the motion sweeping across the room. "She down."
Gabe raised an eyebrow and turned back to Mireya. "You for real?"
Mireya nodded, a smile pulling across her mouth. "If y'all can keep up, papi."
~~~
Autumn sat in the booth with her back against the wall and her cocktail glass held between two fingers, the ice shifting every time she tilted it. Jade was across from her next to Simone, both of them leaning into each other's space, and Brooke had the end of the booth on Autumn's side, her elbow on the table and her chin propped on her fist. The restaurant was loud enough that they had to pitch their voices over the tables around them, over the music coming from speakers mounted near the bar, over the clink of plates and the bartender calling out names for pickup. Empty appetizer plates had been pushed to the edge of the table and a second round of drinks sat sweating onto the napkins underneath them.
Jade set her glass down hard enough to rattle the ice. "Girl, I told that nigga Malachi that just because his boy got Rita stupid ass pregnant that he bet not even think I'm for that shit."
Simone's head was already shaking before Jade finished. "They always trying to lock something down with a baby knowing they ass gonna turn into a fucking ghost as soon as that baby here."
Brooke nodded, her chin lifting off her fist. "Facts."
Autumn brought her glass to her mouth and took a sip, the liquor sharp against her tongue. She set it back down and turned it once on the napkin, the condensation leaving a ring on the paper. "Y'all trust their asses too fucking much. That's the problem. Niggas see a big ass and some pussy and suddenly want to be a daddy."
Simone pointed at Autumn with her straw, the tip of it dripping onto the table. "Or in your case, they see how connected your daddy is and want to get in on that munyun."
Autumn rolled her eyes. "More reason not to trust these niggas. Just use them for what they're good for and fucking dismiss them." She picked up her glass again and gestured with it, the ice clicking against the rim. "All of these dumb ass bitches out here letting niggas put babies in them and drag them down. Couldn't be me. A bunch of fucking birds."
Jade laughed, her body folding forward, one hand coming to rest flat on the table. "Some bitches get dick drunk, Autumn. Everyone ain't as ruthless as you when it come to some good dick."
Brooke reached across the table with her palm up. Jade met it without looking, their hands connecting in a clap that turned heads at the next booth. "I know I fucking ain't," Brooke said. "Motherfucker could tell me to do anything for about three, four hours if it's good enough."
Simone covered her mouth with the back of her hand, her shoulders shaking. Jade was already gone, her laugh coming out in short bursts that made her grip the edge of the table. Brooke sat there with her eyebrows raised and her palms up, unapologetic.
Autumn dropped her head into her hand, her fingers pressing into her forehead, and shook it side to side. She leaned back against the booth, her arm stretching along the top of the seat. "There ain't a man on this planet that's worth all that."
Simone finished her drink in one long pull, set the empty glass down, and wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "That's because you always fucking with those Bel Air ass niggas." She leaned forward, both forearms on the table, her eyes locking onto Autumn's face. "Go down to Crenshaw or Compton and get yourself a hood nigga and watch how he have you 'yes, daddy. Anything you want, daddy.'"
Jade slapped the table. Brooke's head dropped back against the booth, her laugh going up into the ceiling. Simone held her pose, her face dead straight, both hands still flat on the table, selling it.
Autumn sucked her teeth, the sound cutting through the laughter. "I could never."
Brooke wiped under her eye with her knuckle and pointed at Autumn. "You fucking missing out, girl."
They all laughed again, the sound of it layering over itself, Jade still gripping the table, Simone finally breaking and letting the grin take her whole face. Autumn rolled her eyes and reached for her drink.
It can't be Sara's because Nicole would have known the address