nature is healingCaptain Canada wrote: ↑30 Jun 2025, 10:50Still nasty work, but at least Keshawn offering an olive branch (this implosion is going to shake generations).
Neighborhood.
Neighborhood.
Neighborhood.
The squeak of basketball shoes against polished hardwood was the only sound in the empty gym, a rhythmic counterpoint to Keshawn's labored breathing. He'd been at it for about an hour or so, working up a sweat before the workout even began, a habit Coach Bronstein had been drilling into him.
Vic arrived just before noon, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He had worked two shifts the night before, squeezing in a few hours of sleep at Angela’s apartment before waking up to help Mr. Gino with the inventory where he had spent most of his morning earning some loose change. Where he was at in life, every dollar mattered.
Bronstein's eyes narrowed the moment Vic stepped onto the court. "Who invited him?”
Keshawn didn't break his dribbling rhythm. "I did."
The old coach approached, his stern expression a mix of irritation and calculation. "I've already got guys lined up for your workout. We’re not just fucking around, boychick, there’s a method to this."
"Vic's my guy," Keshawn said, his voice steady. "He can chase down rebounds, do whatever else you need. Not like these guys are giving me real looks or anything.”
Bronstein studied him for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. "Works for me.”
…
"Relax, no one’s going to jack your car," Gayle laughed as she shook her head, "This is the good part of town. Sort of."
"Don’t let these shades fool you," Lamont scoffed, "I’m from Oakland, you know that, right?”
"I think you’re more San Fran these days, OG,” Gayle continued to tease as they slowly drove past Jim Gilliam Park, "We could do something by those tennis courts?”
"You’re just trying to get some fits off, is that it?” Lamont replied with a smirk as he parked the car, taking in the scenery. It wasn’t as run down as he expected, the park in relatively decent shape. He honestly expected to see bullet holes and drug fiends wandering around, dilatated equipment and dead grass.
"You did say it was my video," Gayle smiled, "You still think we should do it during the day?"
"Yeah, a lot more flexibility with that," Lamont’s mind was at work, imagining the various ways this relatively mundane looking park could turn into something special for the video. The shoot date was rapidly approaching and in effort to cut costs, they would be leasing the equipment and acquiring the service of the video producers for just a day which left little room for error.
Gayle sat quietly, allowing for Lamont’s mind to wander as he gazed out into the park. She had been to this park countless times but was looking at it through a different lens this time, or at least trying to. She’d be center stage in a few weeks, not as Gayle, not as the hood girl that "got down" but as GiGi.
"I’ll share my notes with the guys tonight," Lamont reversed out of the parking lot, "Once the treatment is finalized, then we can hit the mall."
"I’m not going to break your pocket, relax," Gayle assured him as they rolled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, "Not like I’m going to have a bunch of chains on my neck. I’m not Tay.”
"Tell me about it," Lamont shook his head, "We actually, huh, parted ways not too long ago."
Gayle paused as she tried to gather her thoughts, "Damn, really?”
"Yeah, it just wasn’t working out. For either of us."
Despite Lamont’s asking, she never reached out to Tay Savage following their run in at the club that ended with Gayle snatching his chain on camera, leading to her virality and hit single. Part of her was glad that her success was also his downfall but part of her felt guilty.
"How long ago?”
"It’s been a minute,” Lamont confessed, "Just didn’t want to tell you when you had all of this happening. It hasn’t been made public either, wouldn’t want people thinking it had something to do with what happened.”
"Did it?”
"Not really,” Lamont sighed, "Sort of, kind of. I mean, it wasn’t working, it really was, way before you came into the picture but after that, it just crystalized that he’s not the kind of artist that I want to work with and you are.”
Artist. Gayle was still struggling to see herself as that. In a lot of ways, she was still the hood girl that got down, just on wax now. The term ‘artist’ seemed above her, reserved for more creative people that could quote poems, read books and could understand a music sheet. Left to her own device in a recording studio, she wouldn’t know what to do.
"Hey,” Lamont could see Gayle start to sneak into a pensive state, "Don’t worry about that, okay? It ain’t your fault you’re more talented than he is, that’s the music business, baby.”
…
Rommel stepped out onto the concrete stoop, shoulders hunched against a chill that wasn't in the air but deep in his bones. He pulled a crumpled pack of Newports from his pocket, tapping one out with trembling fingers. The block was quiet tonight, just the distant thump of bass from someone's car and the occasional shout of laughter.
"Yo, I’ll be right back," he called over his shoulder to his boys inside the house. They barely acknowledged him, too caught up in their dice game and the weed smoke thickening the air.
It had been weeks since Keon had been buried, and the weight of it still sat heavy on his chest. Rommel wandered behind the building, away from the lights, into the shadow of the dumpsters where no one could see him. His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees pulled to his chest like he used to do as a kid. The first sob caught him by surprise, ripping from his throat before he could swallow it back.
"Fuck," he whispered, tears hot on his cheeks.
The scratch of shoes against concrete barely registered until a figure materialized from the darkness. Rommel's hand instinctively went to his waistband, but his heart dropped when nothing was there. In his sorrow, he had let his guard down.
"Whatever you here to do, just fucking do it," Rommel muttered, tears still wet on his face. He didn't bother wiping them away.
Quincy stood there, his posture casual, almost bored. But his eyes were sharp, taking in everything—the tears, the trembling hands, the exhaustion etched into every line of Rommel's face.
"I'm tired, man," Rommel continued, his voice cracking. "You know how long niggas like us been doing this shit?"
"Too fucking long,” Quincy replied, his face unchanging.
Rommel flicked his cigarette away, the ember tracing a brief arc in the darkness. "And for what?"
Something shifted in Quincy's expression—a flicker of recognition, maybe even empathy. For a moment, Rommel thought he saw understanding in the older man's eyes, the shared weight of too much loss, too much pain.
"We all got our crosses to bear," Quincy said quietly. He took a step back, and Rommel felt a surge of confusion, then hope.
Then Quincy's hand moved in one fluid motion. The gun appeared as if from nowhere, and before Rommel could process what was happening, a muffled pop broke the night's silence.
The impact knocked Rommel back against the wall, his eyes wide with surprise more than pain. He opened his mouth, but only a wet gurgle escaped. His knees buckled, and he slid down the wall, leaving a dark smear in his wake.
Quincy watched him fall, face impassive. He tucked the gun back into his waistband with practiced ease, pulled his hoodie lower over his face, and turned away. His footsteps were unhurried as he walked back toward the street, blending seamlessly into the night as he'd done countless times before.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 4739
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Neighborhood.
Damn, caught lacking while crying is a horrific look
Neighborhood.
tears fall from the sky.
Neighborhood.
Letting a crackhead get the drop on you is a terrible way to go out.
Bronstein would be trying to keep family away from Keshawn as he sets up that 360 deal.
Bronstein would be trying to keep family away from Keshawn as he sets up that 360 deal.
Neighborhood.
The moment Keshawn's pen touched the paper, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders—every struggle, every late-night practice converged into this single point in time where everything became real. Richard and Gordon beamed with pride as they slid the contract across the polished table in their downtown office.
Loraine hugged Keshawn once he was done signing while Elijah shook his hand, forcing on a smile. Elijah had been quiet, too quiet, since Keshawn had shared with them that he was ultimately going to sign with Richard, Gordon and the UCLA alumni contingent that would bankroll his pre-draft training and lawyer fees along with an apartment until he signed his rookie contract in exchange for three percent on his first NBA contract, two percent on his second, and one percent following that. It was a better rate than what any other agency could offer him as, well, they weren’t an agency. He expected pushback, at least some of it, from Elijah when he pitched it to his dad but Elijah simply shrugged, telling his son to go with his gut.
Coach Bronstein’s absence also made Keshawn a bit uneasy, perhaps intentionally so as the veteran coach had told Keshawn that the decision ultimately was his, not wanting to sway him one way or another but just to provide him an alternative.
"I’d offer you some champagne but I keep getting reminded you’re only eighteen," Richard teased Keshawn, slapping him on the shoulder, "Alon gave you the day off at least, right?”
"It’s an active rest day," Keshawn replied with a polite smile, his college eligibility officially done.
"Take them out to eat," Gordon suggested, nodding towards his parents who had walked out into the hallway, "They deserve it. Raised a fine young man in yourself."
"They’re actually working today," Keshawn said, reminding them of their humble station in life, "Just took some time off for a few hours, didn’t want to miss this."
"You’ll retire them in no time,” Richard shook his hand goodbye, "Just keep listening to Coach, I promise you that."
As they said their goodbyes, Keshawn shifted his attention to his phone, looking down at his screen as he caught up to his parents in the elevator. He checked his messages, nothing new. He scrolled through the weather, social media and the likes before checking his messages again just in case he had missed the notification. He hadn’t. The last text he had sent, a few hours ago now, was still unanswered.
He hovered over Nadia’s name, pondering if he should double-text as maybe she had missed his first text, inviting her out to lunch. The gap between his texts and her answer had begun to widen even before the school quarter had ended and the trend had only continued with both of them no longer living on campus, no longer having pancakes for dinner.
He scrolled past her name, his pride ultimately winning the battle as they reached their car in the parking garage. He hovered towards Gloria name instead, her reply coming instantly.
…
Jessica tossed her phone onto the bed with a sigh, crossing her arms.
"You’re barely here, Vic," her voice cracked, "And even when you are, it’s like this or even worse, you're just…there."
"I’m just fucking tired, okay?” Vic ran his hand through his hair, unable to maintain eye contact for long, "Between Macy’s, summer ball and picking up shifts wherever the fuck I can on the low, it ain’t a lot of time for hanging around. This shit is about to get crazy expensive, I don’t think you’ve realizing that yet."
"That’s fucking bullshit,” she scoffed, "I’m not asking you to do anymore than what you used to. A fucking text or a call would go a long fucking way when you’re gone for hours, days at a time. I don’t hear from you for three days, you’re not that fucking busy.”
Vic opened his mouth, loaded with a rebuttal, but the sight of her belly, now fully showing, softened him. "I’ll try to be more responsive."
He took a seat on the edge of her bed, allowing his shoulders to sink. Even without his stop at Angela’s apartment before coming over, it had been a long day. He got in a workout with Keshawn that morning, just the two of them, like the old days before helping Mr. Gino with some prep work in the kitchen. Mr. Gino didn’t pay much and it wasn’t always regular work but he paid in cash, untaxed. He worked his normal shift at Macy’s before hurrying over to the park where Coach Stewie had the returning players going through drills and doing their offseason conditioning. He did some food deliveries for a few hours as he waited for Angela to get off work. By the time he reached Jessica’s doorstep, it was approaching midnight and her parents were already asleep, one of the few perks of his long day.
"That’s all I’m asking for," Jessica took a seat besides him, letting her head rest on his shoulders, "Well, that and you know.”
"What?"
"Have you spoken to her?"
Vic was initially going to pretend that he didn’t know what or who she was talking about but thought better of it, "No, not yet."
"Vic,” Jessica groaned, "What are you waiting for? You said you would and I really don’t get what the hold up is."
"We dated for a while,” Vic tried to reason, "Breaking up with her via text seems cold or fucked up."
"Babe," Jessica looked into his eyes, trying to comfort him, unaware that his scent was all over Angela’s bedsheet as they spoke, "She moved across the country, she knew what she was doing. Like you said, you guys both know that whatever you guys had, whatever it was, it’s over. Just rip the band-aid off, Vic. You’re not the bad guy, here. Shit, she probably moved on anyway."
Vic’s jaw tightened but he quickly relaxed them, not wanting to betray himself, "Yeah, you’re probably right.”
…
"He’s been here for two days, girl."
"It hasn’t been that long," Alexis whispered back, looking down the hallway to make sure Stefan hadn’t come out of her room.
"How would you know? He’s been blowing your fucking back out six ways to Sunday, you’re probably all messed up,” Tiffany scoffed, taking a sip from her coffee mug.
"You’re on the pill, right?” Brittany chimed in.
"Bitch, shut up,” Alexis rolled her eyes, "You guys don’t see me complaining when y’all are getting some dick.”
"Our dicks leave,” Brittany countered.
"And don’t be stinking up the apartment with their weed, playing loud music and shit," Tiffany added, "Does this nigga not know that they invented headphones?"
"Okay, okay, okay,” Alexis relented, partly because she agreed with them too. She had been waiting for him to leave but the one night stand had turned into two nights and was now bordering on three, "I’ll get him out of here by today."
She grabbed one of the breakfast sandwiches that Brittany had made and placed it on a paper plate before turning back and adding another to the plate, drawing a side eye from Brittany.
"What, bitch? I need to lessen the blow,” she teased before disappearing into her room.
Stefan was sprawled out on the bed, laughing at his phone screen as he scrolled through Instagram. He looked up to see Alexis, plate in hand, her hair pinned up.
"Appreciate you," Stefan sat up, grabbing one of the breakfast sandwiches and biting into it, "Who made this?”
"My roommate," Alexis answered as she placed the plate on her desk and took a seat, examining the state of her room. When they weren’t engaging in horizontal activities, they had been ordering in food, the takeout trays piling up by the trash. Stefan’s shirt and jeans were scattered on the floor as he sat on the bed in just his boxers, taking a second bite.
"You guys don’t practice in the summer or…?" Alexis asked, trying to keep the tone light and inquisitive.
"Nah," Stefan shook his head but he had gotten the message, "We start back up in a few weeks."
He looked around the room as well, his cocoon for the past few days. Andrea’s texts had been piling up and he was running out of excuses. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d spend a few days away, usually at Long Beach, but he’d at least FaceTime her every now and then, even as he left another girl’s apartment or got done flipping a girl with the homies.
He grabbed his shirt, putting it on as he stood to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling, "I got to get going, though."
Before Alexis could respond, Stefan quickly got dressed and grabbed another breakfast sandwich on his way out. No awkward hugs, no goodbyes. Just like that, he was gone—the way he came in.
As Stefan walked towards his car in the parking lot, not quite remembering where he parked it, he tried to map out his day in his head. Andrea was staying with her parents for the summer and while they didn’t entirely disapprove of Stefan, he didn’t feel like performing for them right now. Back at his dorm, he had been assigned new roommates—Keshawn had left the program, and Tommy had moved into an off-campus apartment that was well outside Stefan’s NIL budget, which had been cut into for the second year in a row. He’d taken a pay cut to return to UCLA, figuring that the collective was saving up for Keshawn’s NIL offer. Stefan kept waiting for them to reach out, offering him more money once Keshawn turned it down but they never did and his leverage — the transfer portal — had already been closed by then.
Stefan stepped into his car and rolled off the parking lot and and merged onto the 405. With no interest in facing Andrea’s parents—or his new roommates—he pointed the car toward Long Beach.
Neighborhood.
Alexis a whole pass around? Yikes.
Keshawn gotta let Esther go. Gloria knows how to play her position and not stir up bullshit. Plus, it’ll be one less entanglement to unentangle once he has to try to get out of Bronstein’s life rights contract he just signed.
Vic a deadbeat and the baby ain’t even here yet. Meanwhile, his girl done turned into a whole munch and he hanging on while she got pussy on her breath. Life comes at you fast.
Keshawn gotta let Esther go. Gloria knows how to play her position and not stir up bullshit. Plus, it’ll be one less entanglement to unentangle once he has to try to get out of Bronstein’s life rights contract he just signed.
Vic a deadbeat and the baby ain’t even here yet. Meanwhile, his girl done turned into a whole munch and he hanging on while she got pussy on her breath. Life comes at you fast.
Neighborhood.
Her body, her choice bro.
Stop deadnaming her, brudda. Gloria is indeed a good time but wifing the chick you popped on the recruiting visit is kind of shaky.
yall keep calling this Black man a deadbeat when he working hard for their future together