Season 2, Episode 4
“If you already know where he going, what’s the point of watching this shit?”
“Let the little nigga support his homie,” Marcus interjected, biting into his pizza, “Maybe if niggas supported you and your hoop dreams, you wouldn’t be a washed-up bum talking about coach didn’t like you.”
“You know he ain’t give my ass the green light,” Johnny shook his head.
Kam’s eyes remained glued to the TV screen as the cameras finally panned to Jamal, standing in front of a table with an assortment of hats. He recognized Jamal’s family in the back, as well as an unfamiliar blonde who Kam assumed was his flavor of the month.
They had always spoken about potentially playing together at the next level but Kam, being the bigger body, got a lot more attention and letters from colleges earlier on in the process. By the time Jamal became the more sought-after recruit, talks of playing together had already dissipated and neither party seemed interested in rekindling them as they had grown tired of taking turns in each other’s shadows, despite being the best of friends.
“Like J-Cole said, I’m going up I-95 and I’ll be attending Boston College!”
Kam clapped his hands, almost startling the rest of the onlookers as he watched with pride from Marcus’ living room. Marcus joined in the celebration, at first mockingly but then in earnest, sharing a dap with Kam.
“You better shout us out nigga when you announce,” Marcus teased him, “Strap up, mask up…”
“Kick the fucking door in,” Johnny finished with a smirk, “Enough of this football shit, let’s get some motherfucking action going on.”
…
“I’m going to get you right, just setting some shit up right now.”
“I ain’t worried about that,” Snow waved him off as he carefully plotted out every inch of the room, arranging it to his liking, “I know they ass gonna be on my shit for a little bit so I ain’t in no rush, them motherfuckers ain’t even gonna know I got out.”
“You know word travels fast,” Curtis warned him, leaning on the dresser that had been in the family for literal generations.
“I know it do,” Snow slowly nodded, “That’s how I know you was handling shit out here, cuzzo. That was some real stepper shit you did for a real nigga.”
“Just trying to hold shit down for you,” Curtis shrugged, taking off the gold ring on his index finger.
“That’s yours,” Snow replied to him, “You earned that shit, man. Besides, I’m about to get some iced out shit once I’m back up, straight snowman shit.”
“How do you want to play it?”
“Just keep running things and doing you,” Snow had no issues with his cousin now being the face of their operation, “Once I get this heat off me, we’ll run that bitch like a co-op.”
Curtis wasn’t sure of the meaning of the word but agreed, nonetheless.
“You got any more problems with the young boys?”
“They’ve been straight, you know, just regular young nigga shit from time to time.”
“And who been handling that?”
“If it rises to that, Dacorius straightens it out.”
“And does he?”
“Does he what?” Marcus asked, a bit confused.
“Does he straighten the shit out? Word on the block was the young boys felt like they were running their own shit and just kicking up whatever they felt like.”
“They ain’t never been light,” Marcus answered, “I mean, besides that one time that we already spoke about and rectified that situation.”
“B-Wood bitch ass still they OG?”
“I can’t tell you if that nigga is they OG or not, but they still fuck with him, best I can tell.”
“When the times calls for it, we’ll handle that,” Snow took his tank top off and laid on the bed, staring straight into the ceiling.
“You’re going to be good here? I already told you I got a spot out the jungle, real lowkey shit.”
“I still need the niggas that need to know that I’m home to know that I’m home,” Snow closed his eyes, “Roaches scatter when you turn on the light.”
…
Kam’s face felt flush as he finished off his shot, letting the sting of alcohol linger for a moment before drowning it out with a lukewarm beer. He let the beer rest in between his fingertips as he looked through his eyebrows across the backyard towards the familiar and shapely figure.
He had caught her gaze a few times but never for more than a moment as she would look away, resuming conversation with her friends.
They were celebrating, for a lack of better term, Andre’s last day out as he had violated the terms of his parole by (allegedly) assaulting his long-time girlfriend, Monique. The undertaking made no sense to Kam for several reasons, chief among them was that Monique was friends with nearly all the girls that were in attendance. Not to mention, Andre had already gone through bookings and was not even an attendee of his own party. Alas, it was just another excuse to do a copious number of drugs, overdrink and cross intimate boundaries that weren’t mean to be crossed.
“Are you just going to baby that drink?”
Kam looked up to see the subject of his thoughts standing in front of him, snapping him out of whatever drunken haze he was beginning to fall into.
“I just took a shot,” he defended himself, holding up the empty cup, “I don’t see you getting active.”
“I’m a lady, I don’t get active,” Ravyn took a next to him, practically laying the end of her leg on his.
They had done this delicate dance since the night they first met, crossing the touch barrier while avoiding others. Kam was partly to blame, as was Marcus, as the night most likely for it to happen was interrupted by Kam getting way too high off Marcus’ laced blunt.
“I’ve seen you get active now,” Kam raised his eyebrows, drawing a light chuckle from Ravyn who playfully hit him on the shoulder, letting her hand lingered there long enough for a quick rub.
Kam’s discovery that Danny had been interested in barking up that same tree had cooled off his advances towards Ravyn but that was of no concern to him anymore, not after last night’s debacle.
He placed his hand on her thigh, slowly inching towards nirvana until he could feel her warmth. He fully expected her to pull back or at least mention their shared friend, but she never did, only further widening their legs as if it was just the two of them.
It would soon be as they made their way to the back of Marcus’ car, accomplishing what had long been overdue.
…
“He’s got a G5 arm.”
“Come on, now. You see a plane around here or something?” Coach Patrick continued to watch the quarterback go through his throws, looking for the Group of 5 arm that Coach Sutton was speaking of.
“We don’t really have the guys to push it down the field,” Coach Sutton defended his third-year starter, “But it ain’t a throw he can’t make, just don’t always got zip on it is all.”
“What about the big boy at running back?” Coach Patrick’s eyes had been wandering over to the running backs since they first came out, even though the school wasn’t necessarily on the market for a senior running back, “You said he’s a senior, yeah?”
“Late transfer from Jersey,” Coach Sutton shrugged, “You know me, I shoot it to you straight. I don’t know jackshit about the kid myself to even tell you.”
Coach Sutton’s words had little effect on Coach Patrick as he continued to watch Kam gracefully go through the cones with little to no wasted movement. It was the perfect drill to highlight his balance and suddenness while also masking his lack of top end speed.
“Any defense?”
“Not that I know of,” Coach Sutton replied earnestly, “Seems like an offensive guy to me, mentally at least.”
“He doesn’t run hard?”
“I mean, yeah, he does but, I don’t know. I just don’t want any coaches calling my phone in six months telling me I sold them a lemon. If y’all looking for a running back, you know about Danny.”
“We’re good,” Coach Patrick quickly shut him down, having heard the sales pitch for the past eighteen months, “We’re only taking one high school running back this cycle and coach Merritt all wrapped up with this kid from Georgia so was just curious on big boy is all.”