Neighborhood.

[Caesar]

Keshawn just casually averaging a triple dub. And he about be Klay Thompson with a fake ass Meg.

[Soapy]

Keshawn just casually averaging a triple dub. And he about be Klay Thompson with a fake ass Meg.

and we lock up on defense!

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 17
Lamont leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk laden with empty takeout containers and scattered notes.

"Finally decided to stop ghosting me, huh?” he laughed as he glanced up.

Gayle ignored the snide comment. It had been awhile. With reason.

"I need to talk to you for a minute," she said.

Lamont shook his head, "Nah, nah, we don’t need to talk about anything. I know the music ain’t been going the way we wanted it to but come here, listen to this."

Before she could respond, Lamont played a record of theirs that sounded familiar yet had a certain element that her untrained ears couldn’t quite spot. It just sounded better. And then he played another and another after that. Some of them sounded like brand new records, others had new recognizable features, each voice layered over hers like an oppressive weight, as if they had all taken pieces of her without asking.

By the time the studio went silent, a solid hour had passed.

“I told you,” Lamont leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied smile. “You bring that spark, I turn it into some fire, baby."

"Yeah, it’s pretty great," she muttered. She suddenly felt self-conscious about the talk that she wanted to had. She was a relative no-name in the industry with a semi-viral record, at best, and yet here she was with a dozen records that didn’t sound like that of an artist of her caliber, if she even could call herself that.

“I’ve got some stuff that I need to clear,” he continued, oblivious to her conflict, eyes glinting with ambition. "But honestly? This is good enough for the album. Maybe we hold off on that for the deluxe, you know, sneak in some more club records."

She felt trapped by the breakthrough of the music mixed with her own frustration. She was tied to him, to the songs that held pieces of her soul and provided a potential future, to a life free of acetone and hookah smoke. The affair, the business, the late-night sessions were all threaded together—indelible bonds she had created willingly, but now she felt the strings pulling tighter.

…

Keshawn stood in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator providing the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. The fridge door swung open, brightening the space momentarily, and he stared at the shelves lined with neatly arranged containers, the few missing ones the only remnants of Stefan’s presence.

He felt an unsettling mix of relief and something like guilt coiling in his stomach. It wasn’t simply Stefan’s abrupt departure that bothered him; it was what it represented. He was in the NBA now, living the life they both had dreamed of, while Stefan seemed to flounder in the chaos he had courted. Just as quickly and quietly as he showed up to his doorsteps, he had quietly vanished a few nights later. At first, Keshawn wasn’t sure if Stefan maybe took being asked to drive his car home the wrong way but that didn’t seem like Stefan. He felt even more guilt, upon realizing that he had left, that he had checked his jewelry box.

He recalled their reckless nights at UCLA, sneaking alcohol into games when they were both sidelined, tipping back cups on the sidelines. It was a fleeing moment of teenage stupidity for Keshawn, a brief chapter in his life that came and went. For Stefan, he never left that bench. It was a conclusion Keshawn had played over and over in his mind like a low, droning beat. Stefan had made choices; he’d stepped away from the path they had once shared.

The memory of Alexis flashed through his mind like an unwelcome ghost. He had tried not to think about her. He had gotten the news like everyone else on social media and like everyone else, he had the same doubts, the same inkling. Surely, Stefan was involved. In the last few days, he hadn’t brought him to bring it up. He knew Stefan would lie about it so why bother? And even worse, what if he didn’t? What if he told the truth? What now of their friendship? If he could even call it that anymore.

He stepped forward, pulling a container from the fridge, the coolness of the plastic against his palm grounding him. Keshawn placed it on the counter and flipped the lid. The smell of seasoned chicken and rice wafted up, a small comfort in the emptiness of the room. A small sigh escaped his lips. He didn’t want to linger on regret. He wanted to embrace this new chapter and everything it brought—without the shadow of his past weighing him down. Sliding the container into the microwave, he pressed the buttons and leaned against the counter, waiting for the timer to tick down.

Stefan had made his choice. Alexis had made hers. It wasn’t his fault how it turned out. Was it?

…

he delivery man stood there with a cheerful smile, holding a bright bouquet of flowers wrapped in crisp white paper.

“Delivery for you,” he said, cheerily unaware of the frantic morning she had had.

Jessica forced a smile, taking a step forward as she grabbed them.

As he walked away, she peered down at the card tucked between the flowers. She wanted to feel joy; the flowers were beautiful, a sweet gesture, but instead, they felt a note off.

A moment passed as she stood frozen, the bouquet cradled in her hands like a fragile promise. She felt the warmth of their baby, Yesenia, nestled against her hip, a reminder of how alone she truly was. The stubborn edge of independence flared up within her. She couldn’t allow herself to be swayed by a bouquet. This didn’t change anything. She was still a single mom, raising a newborn while trying to balance her schoolwork. No amount of flowers — or bills paid — would change that. At least not in her heart.

With a sharp inhale, she moved to the kitchen, setting the flowers down on the counter. The silence hung thick around her as she busied herself with preparing a bottle for Yesenia. Water from the faucet poured out, steady and calming, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat.

A glance back at the flowers urged conflicting emotions. Should she text him? A simple thanks felt inadequate, especially when it could be seen as acceptance—a crack in her wall of independence. Instead, she grabbed a vase from the cupboard.

The soft clink of glass against glass filled the kitchen as she arranged the flowers, snipping the stems just so, allowing them space to breathe. Was it ridiculous how much joy it brought her to put them on display? To feel even a flicker of beauty in her routine?

“Alright, little lady,” she murmured to Yesenia, snapping herself back to her reality. “Let’s get your bottle ready.”

…

Nadia wiped her brow with the back of her hand as she carried a stack of sandwiches to the front counter, her arms aching from the long shift. The deli was bustling with the lunch crowd, the familiar clatter of utensils and the hum of chatter wrapping around her like a comforting quilt. This job was hers, and for the first time in her life, she might be able to carve out a little independence.

As she deposited the sandwiches, she caught sight of Ernesto through the glass door. He stood there, a friendly smile breaking across his face. The warmth of his gaze felt like a welcome touch, something she hadn’t realized she craved until now.

“Looks like someone’s here for you again,” Rachel, her co-worker, nudged her side playfully as she leaned against the register. “He’s practically here every day, isn’t he?”

Nadia rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool although her cheeks heated slightly. “He’s just a friend of my roommate’s boyfriend,” she replied, attempting to sound disinterested.

“Uh-huh, just a friend of a friend," Rachel teased, clearly unconvinced.

[Captain Canada]

Another chapter that makes me pissed off at this whole Jessica situation, she dumb as hell. Pride get in the way a whole lot.

[Caesar]

Jessica need to find her a man to take care of her so Vic can embrace his dead beat future. Gayle getting an album for letting a married man paint them walls in crazy. Keshawn messed up for thinking his homie stole from him. Got Nadia working in a sandwich shop pining for a glorified public defender because you were writing that Keshawn X Nadia storyline and we peeped it

[Soapy]

Another chapter that makes me pissed off at this whole Jessica situation, she dumb as hell. Pride get in the way a whole lot.

stall her out, brodie

Jessica need to find her a man to take care of her so Vic can embrace his dead beat future.

Gayle getting an album for letting a married man paint them walls in crazy.

Saweetie type beat

Keshawn messed up for thinking his homie stole from him.

First yall said he was an idiot for letting him crash but now he a POS for just making sure after he abruptly left

Got Nadia working in a sandwich shop pining for a glorified public defender because you were writing that Keshawn X Nadia storyline and we peeped it

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 18
Keshawn had forgotten how much he missed it. Sitting on the couch, the skyline of Los Angeles sprawled out before him, he could almost feel the city coming to life as the sun rose. He traced the familiar contours of the city he’d grown up in, filled with memories that both warmed and haunted him.

From the wide glass window, the morning sun spilled across the streets. He reached for the coffee mug on the table beside him, warm ceramic against his palm, and took a sip. Portland had its charms but there was something undeniably electric about Los Angeles.

There was a knock at the door that broke the moment. Keshawn set down the mug, hurrying himself to the door just in time for the second set of knocks.

He opened the door, and there she stood, suitcase in hand and a grin on her face.

"Wakey wakey,” Candace joked. "I’m going to wear your ass out for these next few days."

…

With each item Stefan picked up, he tried to shove the disquiet away, focusing instead on the task at hand. He moved to the kitchen next, where half-eaten meals lingered in the fridge like ghosts. Stefan hesitated over the box of pizza, the grease congealed, the smell stale. He grabbed it and tossed it into the trash, the weight of it echoing in his mind. This was what failure looked like, he thought bitterly—leftovers from dreams that had turned into reminders of what could have been.

The silence in the apartment was stifling, closing in. He didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to share the disappointment swirling in his gut. The back stairs led down to the alley, a less conspicuous route out of the building where he could slip away unnoticed, no wandering eyes that perhaps had heard the news of his dismissal.

…

Vic sat on the crinkled paper-covered chair in the pediatrician's office, the sterile smell of antiseptic lingering in the air. He bounced Yesenia gently on his knee, the rhythm calming her as she gurgled and cooed, wide eyes taking in the colorful posters that plastered the walls. Sunflowers and animals decorated the space, designed to distract children from the impending pokes and prods.

Jessica sat stiffly beside him, scrolling through her phone, her body language tight. The weight of silence draped around them—timid, nearly electric. Vic stole a glance over at her, eyes narrowing as he watched her finger swipe determinedly, lost in whatever world her screen held.

A nurse poked her head through the door, clipboard in hand.

"We’re in the room right across,” she chirped, motioning for them to follow.

Vic stood up quickly, adjusting the baby carrier on his shoulder. “You ready, baby girl?” he murmured, kissing Yesenia's forehead. She giggled, tiny fingers clutching his shirt.

As they entered the examination room, the nurse carefully checked things off her clipboard. "Have you given any thoughts to the shots we spoke about last time?"

"Still thinking about it," Jessica answered.

"What shots?" Vic asked.

The nurse paused, looking towards Jessica, before continuing, "Just some vaccines that we’re recommending."

"I’m doing some research on them," Jessica interjected, "I just want to make sure I’m making the best choice for her.”

Vic’s brow furrowed, confusion racing through him. “Research? What do you mean? These are like regular vaccines, right? You didn’t tell me she wasn’t getting what she was supposed to be getting."

“Well, I don’t want to just follow what they say without knowing all the facts," Jessica said, her tone defensive. “You're in Portland half the fucking time. Am I supposed to call you and ask you what type of diapers to buy too?”

The nurse, sensing the tension, cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “So, we’re just waiting on Dr. Reynolds to come in and then we can get started…”

…

The dingy sign on the door read "Third Eye" in faded gold letters, some of the paint peeling away at the edges. Stefan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hand hovering over the tarnished doorknob.

He pushed the door open, stepping into an office that looked like it hadn't been updated since the Obama administration. A metal desk dominated the small space, stacked with manila folders and loose papers. Behind it sat a heavy-set man with salt-and-pepper hair, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, not looking up from the file he was reading.

"You Leon?" Stefan asked, closing the door behind him.

The man finally looked up, eyes narrowing slightly as they swept over Stefan. "Depends on what you need, young fella."

Stefan took a seat in the worn leather chair across from the desk without waiting for an invitation. "I need to find someone."

Leon removed his glasses, folding them carefully before setting them on the desk. "That's what I do. Who're we looking for? Ex-girlfriend? Pops ran out on you?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Stefan replied, leaning forward. "Dude named Darnell. Everybody calls him Nell though. From around the way at least"

Leon reached for a yellow legal pad, uncapping a pen. "Last name?"

Stefan shook his head. "Don't know."

The investigator's eyebrow raised slightly. "Okay... what else can you tell me about him?"

"He's about six foot, maybe two hundred." Stefan traced a line over his own eyebrow to demonstrate. "Been locked up before."

"When and where?" Leon asked, making a brief note.

"County. Two or three years, I think. Got out about a year ago."

Leon's pen paused over the paper. "What's your interest in finding this man?"

Stefan shrugged his shoulders. "Just need to talk to him about something."

"Uh-huh," Leon said, his tone making it clear he didn't believe a word. "And what exactly is this 'something'?"

"Personal business."

Leon set his pen down. "Look, kid, I don't get involved in gang shit. If you're looking to settle a score—"

"It ain't like that," Stefan cut in, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

"No?" Leon leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his weight. "Because it sounds exactly like that. You come in here with a first name only, a vague description, and no good reason for finding this guy. I may not look it, but I still got my P.I. license, which means I don't do hits or setups."

Stefan reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick envelope. He placed it on the desk, pushing it toward Leon.

Leon's eyes flicked to the envelope, then back to Stefan's face.

"That'll get you started," Stefan added. "We can talk more business when you find him."

Leon stared at the envelope for a long moment before reaching for it. He thumbed through the bills, counting silently.

"Alright," he said finally, tucking the envelope into his desk drawer. "Let's try this again. What else do you know about this Darnell character?"

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 19
Angela slammed the front door behind her, the sound echoing through their small apartment as she kicked off her shoes.

“Wow, someone’s in a mood,” Paige called from the kitchen, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Angela could see her flipping through the channels on the TV, the glow illuminating her face.

“Yeah, well, some of us actually have shit to do,” Angela shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. The quick call she had been told to hop on turned into a three-hour meeting where ‘stakeholders’ kept being added on to the call to discuss last minute changes to an event she and the team had already spent the previous weeks meticulously planning.

Paige swiveled around, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "Don’t tell me you’re about to spend this weekend cooped up in your room again, girl."

“Better than sitting with a lineup of dudes that don’t even know your last name,” Angela shot back, her voice rising. "Not everybody wants that."

“Excuse me” Paige laughed, the sound harsh. “I know a bitch who nigga is somebody else’s baby daddy ain’t talking."

The words cut through the air like a knife, and Angela felt her face flush with heat. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say or what there was to say. She was partly right, which made it even worse."

“Fuck this,” she muttered, turning on her heel.

“Where are you going?” Paige called after her, "Girl, you know I’m just playing."

Angela was already out the door, slamming it shut behind her once more.

…

Nadia wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, catching her breath as she stepped back from the inventory shelves. The early morning shift was a grind between the early morning wake up, having to complete inventory, prep the store for the day, taking care of pre-orders and that was all before the morning rush of people coming in for their breakfast and catering orders. The shift, luckily, ended just in time for the lunch rush.

Still, there was something rewarding about getting a day’s work done by the time she would usually be waking up, dragging herself to some class about a subject she didn’t really care about. Just as she was about to grab her things from the back, the bell above the deli door jingled, signaling a new customer.

“Hey there,” Ernesto greeted, spotting her as he moved through the tables. The routine had grown on Nadia, although it technically could be considered stalking. He’d show up, about fifteen minutes to noon, order a turkey sandwich on dark brown bread and just watch Instagram videos at one of the counters, occasionally making eye contact with Nadia, "All ready for the lunch rush?"

Nadia chuckled, brushing her hands on her apron. "They’re on their own today. Took the morning shit."

He nodded as he leaned against the counter, "Cool, cool, cool. What you got going on today then?"

"I don’t know," she shrugged, offering a polite smile, "Do some laundry, maybe, cook. Things that adults do, I guess."

"As great as that sounds," he teased, "I think I can do you one better."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that right?"

"Don’t me wrong, I love your sandwiches," he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a playful smile, "It’s fresh, filling but not too much, you know? I just think I can take you somewhere that not only are you going to like, you’ve probably never heard of it before and it’ll probably be top five—no, top three things you’ve ever eaten."

Nadia felt an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach, her go-to instinct telling her to say no, to cling to her plans of solitude. But the way he was looking at her, with that inviting smile, made the words get stuck in her throat. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he pressed. "Laundry, really? You’re way cooler than that."

A heartbeat passed, then another, as she thought about the cramped apartment waiting for her, the pile of laundry, and the loneliness that echoed within those walls.

“Okay, fine,” she heard herself say before she could think it through, surprising herself as well as Ernesto.

“Oh, okay,” he said, a grin breaking across his face, "Should we take my car?"

…

Angela pushed through the doors of the dining hall, the familiar noise of chatter and the clatter of trays hitting tables washing over her. Her salary, while meager, had afforded her the luxury of UberEats and takeout but the prospect of being back in that apartment, and potentially running into Paige for the first time since their 'fight' was less appealing than powering through the mediocre food and loud dining hall.

She grabbed a tray and made her way to the food line, settling on the chicken and some overcooked broccoli. She scanned the room for an open table, sliding in as she reached into her pocket for some head phones just as a familiar voice broke through the noise of the dining hall.

"Ang!"

She turned to find Ronnie grinning at her from a nearby table, sitting by himself as well. She scanned around, looking for the usual minions that accompanied himself but couldn’t locate the familiar faces. He waved her over and she followed suit, joining him at the table.

“Hey, Ronnie,” she said, forcing a smile, still unsure if she needed company or solitude right now.

“I didn’t know you still visited us commoners,” Ronnie teased, poking at his mashed potatoes.

Angela laughed, the sound surprising her. "It keeps me humble. What better way to spend Valentine’s Day than a plate of dry chicken?"

"Shit, you and me both," he shook his head, "Kristi and I are on a break. Great timing, right?"

“Oh,” Angela said, surprised by her own reaction. It was a jarring feeling, one she couldn’t quite place. "I’m sure you guys will figure it out."

He shrugged, his smile unwavering. "Probably not. I mean, a fight before V-Day? Come on. That’s Breakup 101 right there."

“True,” she replied, a lightness settling over her as she picked at her food. The conversation shifted, the tension ebbing away as they slipped easily into familiar banter.

[Caesar]

Paige mad Angela ain't eating her pussy no more on the slick with that comment.

Also, you changed that Nadia storyline. She was 100% heading to a relationship with Keyshawn. Ya ass didn't even put a bow on that thread.

[Soapy]

Paige mad Angela ain't eating her pussy no more on the slick with that comment.

Also, you changed that Nadia storyline. She was 100% heading to a relationship with Keyshawn. Ya ass didn't even put a bow on that thread.

Mi hermano, at least Redsox took my chain, you just dropped yours

Chapter 7 is titled "Call Me If You Get Lost" for a reason. In that chapter, Episode 19, these are my raw notes/outline:

Near the end of the night, Nadia shows up. They share a moment in the quiet of the night with Nadia admitting her feelings for Keshawn and how she feels safe around him which scares her giving what happened with her mom. She doesn't think she can be what he'll need in his life but can be there for him as a friend. As Keshawn looks at Angela from afar, the stabilizing force that Aunt Elly was in his life at the time he needed and how much Simone and his mother have meant to him, he realizes that even without a romantic involvement, Nadia has value in his life.

That was the bow.

This is her character history, chapter by chapter, from my notes.

first chapter she's involved in: A freshman at UCLA who commutes to school while staying with her grandfather, Coach Bronstein. In Chapter 3, she doesn't have much of a role but is introduced as a potential love interest for Keshawn. In later chapters, once Keshawn is at UCLA, their relationship will expand.

second chapter: A sophomore at UCLA who is finding her own identity as a liberal woman who is also Jewish, with the Gaza conflict causing her to find her own voice. She is intrigued by Keshawn but not attracted right away as the two do a dance.

current analysis: At the end of the previous chapter, she shares with Keshawn that she loves him but is too emotionally scared due to her past conflicts involving her father who killed her mother to be in a romantic relationship.

You got it wrong, happens to be the best of us.