Neighborhood.

[Caesar]

We need Bronstein to get in Keshawn ear about being more aggressive again. He too wishy washy with these performances. How you score 10 in a game your team win by 45?

[Soapy]

We need Bronstein to get in Keshawn ear about being more aggressive again. He too wishy washy with these performances. How you score 10 in a game your team win by 45?

Generational hater right here. 40 piece in that update but talking about 10 points (with 12 assists) in a game where Advija came back (leading scorer) and only played like 27 minutes since it was a blowout

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 22
Gayle clocked Lamont the moment she stepped onto the rooftop. There he was, whiskey glass in hand, a king in a black and cream double-breasted suit, holding court with a mix of execs and media types. Tanya, the wife, stood beside him, the very picture of both elegance yet modest. Gayle felt her own face harden—part survival, part habit.

She weaved through clusters of people, catching flashes of her own face on the screens lining the bar—mute loops of her new video, her album cover on every nearby wall. People reached for her, smiling too wide, saying her name like it was actually hers. She returned every hug and air kiss but kept her gaze moving, refusing to make eye contact with Tanya.

The label had pulled out all the stops. It showed in the skyline view, the carved ice cubes, the endless parade of appetizers brought by men in all-black. It showed in the way people looked at her—up and down, trying to catalogue which designer she wore, how her hair was style, how she moved. She couldn’t blame them, not entirely. She was doing the same, eyeing every other women at the party, sizing up how she compared to the influencers she had scrolled through on her Instagram for years. Gayle noticed their shoes first—Louboutins, sneakers, boots with heels so thin it was a dare to walk in them.

She felt eyes on her. Not the men, not the women, but Tanya. It was a trick of light that let Gayle know she was being watched; Tanya’s gaze had a weight, one she tried to ignore by pouring herself a drink from the bar.

Lamont caught her before she could taste it. He kissed her on the cheek, a perfectly above-board greeting for anyone watching.

“You look fucking great,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

She kept her eyes dead ahead, on a point just past his left ear. “I look like you dressed me,” she said.

"What can I say?" he laughed, "I’ve got great taste. Come on, we’ve got babies to kiss."

He kept a careful, platonic distance as they walked toward the patio rail, but his hand found the small of her back anyway. Gayle tensed, then forced herself loose. The music—her own, remixed beyond recognition—thudded from hidden speakers.

Tanya intercepted them at the rail, glass of rosé in hand, her hair pulled back tight enough to reveal every angle of her face.

“I see you pulled out the big guns,” Tanya said, looking Gayle up and down, and then Lamont. “Congratulations, baby girl. Everyone is loving the project!"

Gayle matched her smile. “Thank you, Tanya."

A cluster of men in blazers and chains stepped up, and the conversation spun away from her. Gayle sipped her drink, let the city lights blur into an abstract painting. She could feel the energy of the room shifting, the real business being done in the cracks between laughter.

She was supposed to work the room, but instead she went to the edge and leaned out, air dizzy from alcohol and altitude. For a second she thought about jumping, not to die, just to startle everyone, finding a small comfort in their imaginary shock and awe. Lamont would probably spin it into a viral campaign. She finished her drink instead.

…

Candace planted herself on the corner of a velvet couch, scrolling through her phone, thumbs moving as she stared at her screen. She tossed the phone beside her, letting it bounce and wedge itself between two throw pillows embroidered with the Epic logo.

Gayle spotted her across the room—her hair slick, a perfect curtain—face set in a way that said “do not disturb” but yet simultaneously the most friendly face in all of the rooftop. She crossed over, careful to keep her stride smooth, the shoes still foreign on her feet.

She flopped next to Candace, letting the weight of the night roll off her shoulders and into the space between them.

"Bitch, this shit is…" Gayle fanned herself with the bar’s cocktail menu.

Candace smirked, but her eyes stayed on the phone-face lit blue by the screen. “Yeah, that’s how it is."

"Lamont paid you a bag to show up, didn’t he?" She tried for a laugh, but it caught in her throat, coming out as a cough.

"You know I got you, girl," Candace forced a smile, "The first one is always the hardest. The label is under pressure which makes Lamont under pressure and then he’s going to have you do a million things just so they can blame it on somebody else if shit hits the fan."

Gayle let her head drop onto the back of the couch. “I might actually die if I have to do another photoshoot or podcast.”

“At least you don’t have to do radio hits like we used to do,” Candace shook her head, "Those four A.M. wake up calls were brutal."

They sat that way, a long minute, the sound of the party surging and fading. Gayle watched Candace watching the room, taking in the way she made everyone feel seen with a brief snap of eye contact that was welcoming but not inviting, clocked who was looking and who was pretending not to look. There was something armor-like in it. Gayle envied her.

“Where’s your nigga at?” Gayle asked, not letting herself overthink it. It’s the first thing that came to her mind when she saw Candace on the guest list. She had thought about inviting Keshawn but they hadn’t really spoken, not really, since that awkward night in his apartment.

Candace’s eyes flickered just a beat too fast, a micro expression that Gayle might have missed if she hadn’t spent her entire life in The Jungle.

“He couldn’t make it,” Candace said, turning her gaze back to her phone. “With his schedule and mine with the shootings and stuff for the show, it’s just…"

Gayle nodded, slow. She couldn’t really picture Keshawn and this grown woman that was standing in front of her. He was so quiet in high school, terrified even. She practically had to hold his hand through their first time together, his body masking the timid boy underneath. She felt a primitive, ugly thing rattle inside her chest. “That suck,” she managed, voice even.

Candace shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s whatever. I get it.” She tapped her phone, not reading, just wanting her hands to be busy.

Gayle tried to think of something else to say, something not about Lamont or the wife or the album.

"When are y’all going to soft launch?" she asked, smirking, “I know the streets were talking after what happened in New York."

Candace looked at her then, really looked. A smile curved, slow and exhausted. "I didn’t know you was a messy bitch like this."

Gayle shrugged, feeling the warmth of the whiskey she’d barely touched. "I wouldn’t be a rapper if I wasn’t."

They both laughed, but it was hollow. The party roared on, a living thing that neither of them felt part of.

Candace’s smile faded, replaced by something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know, last time I went public, that shit got fucking messy and then you got all these blogs in your business. And he… he doesn’t need that right now. Neither of us do.”

Gayle let that sit. She wondered what it would look like if her and Lamont ever went public, if it was her on his arms instead of Tanya. Or on Keshawn’s arm instead of Candace. Or better yet, her own man, one that belonged only to her.

They sat together, neither speaking, watching the party burn itself out. For a minute, it felt like the most honest friendship in the world—a shared exile, two supposed 'bad bitches' on a couch, tired as hell and more alone than anyone would ever guess.

[Caesar]

Not Gayle prepping to circle back on Ke?! She just can’t keep her hands off other people’s men. Gayle and Candace rap beef over this gonna be crazy though.

[Soapy]

Not Gayle prepping to circle back on Ke?! She just can’t keep her hands off other people’s men. Gayle and Candace rap beef over this gonna be crazy though.

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: March 15th, 2026 - Xfinity Mobile Arena, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
(29-39) Portland Trail Blazers at Philadelphia 76ers (28-40)

---

POR | 21 | 29 | 21 | 23 | 94
PHI | 29 | 27 | 38 | 18 | 112

Starting Lineups
Scoot Henderson - G - Jrue Holiday
Shaedon Sharpe - G - V.J. Edgecombe
Deni Avdija - F - Jerami Grant
Keshawn Chase - F - Kelly Oubre Jr.
Donovan Clingan - C - Joel Embiid



G Scoot Henderson: 5 pts, 4 ast, 2-4 FG, 1-1 3PT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 7 pts, 5 reb, 4 ast, 3-9 FG, 1-6 3PT
F Deni Avdija: 18 pts, 9 reb, 5 ast, 5-21 FG, 1-10 3PT, 7-9 FT
F Keshawn Chase: 24 pts, 15 reb, 7 ast, 4 to, 9-16 FG, 1-5 3PT, 5-6 FT
C Donovan Clingan: 14 pts, 10 reb, 6-14 FG, 2-7 FT

C Joel Embiid: 39 pts, 16 reb, 2 stl, 2 blk, 17-24 FG, 4-5 FT
G V.J. Edgecombe: 14 pts, 2 reb, 3 ast, 2 stl, 5-13 FG, 2-6 3PT
F Kelly Oubre Jr: 14 pts, 7 reb, 5 ast, 6-14 FG, 2-9 3PT

---

(29-40) @ (24-44)

POR | 26 | 21 | 18 | 37 | 102
BKN | 34 | 34 | 29 | 30 | 127

POR F Keshawn Chase: 12 Pts, 4 Reb, 6 Ast, 4-17 FG, 3-4 FT
BKN F Ziaire Williams: 29 Pts, 4 Reb, 12-19 FG, 5-12 3PT

---

(30-40) @ (41-29)

POR | 32 | 29 | 31 | 26 | 118
IND | 21 | 32 | 30 | 29 | 112

POR F Keshawn Chase: 17 Pts, 7 Reb, 7 As, 5-14 FG, 7-8 FT
IND G Tyrese Haliburton: 16 Pts, 11 Ast, 7-16 FG, 2-5 3PT

---

(30-41) @ (50-21)

POR | 16 | 26 | 27 | 21 | 90
MIN | 35 | 28 | 28 | 26 | 117

POR F Keshawn Chase: 6 Pts, 7 Reb, 5 Ast, 2-10 FG, 2-2 FT
MIN G Anthony Edwards: 26 Pts, 5 Reb, 4 Ast, 2 Stl, 3 Blk, 9-19 FG, 2-9 3PT

---

(30-42) @ (34-38)

POR | 27 | 29 | 24 | 29 | 109
DEN | 40 | 25 | 33 | 25 | 123

POR F Keshawn Chase: 16 Pts, 6 Reb, 13 Ast, 2 Stl, 3 Blk, 5-22 FG, 0-5 3PT, 6-8 FT
DEN C Nikola Jokic: 26 Pts, 19 Reb, 8 Ast, 3 Stl, 8-19 FG, 9-12 FT

---

Upcoming Schedule vs. Brooklyn Nets (27-47), vs. Milwaukee Bucks (27-44), vs. Dallas Mavericks (47-24), vs. Washington Wizards (11-60)
Season Stats 18.2 PPG, 7.7 RPG, 6.3 APG, 1.3 SPG, 0.8 BPG, 2.3 TOPG, 48 FG%, 30 3PT%, 78 FT%

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 23
Angela didn’t notice Paige until she was halfway through a Jell-O shot, the taste of flat cherry gelatin and plastic cup giving away the party’s likely sponsor: second-floor RA with a Costco card and nothing to lose.

She’d started coming to these more, after classes, after the meetings, after she’d spent all day being someone she took pride in being but was finding less and less enjoyment from. Angela had walked in determined to make it through at least one whole evening without overthinking her presence, only to be confronted by the same truth as every Friday night: these parties were still high school with upgrades. The same cliques, the same desperate attempts to belong. Just now with better liquor, tighter jeans, and less gang members.

Paige’s laugh crackled through the living room before Angela saw her. She was at the kitchen island, surrounded but still standing out, a joint pinched expertly between her fingers. Angela lingered at the edge of the room, weighing her escape routes, but Paige looked up and locked eyes with her.

Angela felt a spasm of nerves in her throat. She’d spent the last few weeks avoiding Paige in the dining hall, pretending they weren’t still living together.

Now, with a smile on her face as if nothing had happened between, Paige called out: "Come over here, girl!"

It felt less like an invite and more like a challenge to Angela which helped propelled her forward.

“Didn’t know you came to these,” Paige said, voice slightly too loud for the space between them.

Angela shrugged.

“You want a hit?” Paige offered the joint, her eyes scanning Angela for signs of judgment. Angela surprised herself by taking it, even though weed made her anxious and she hated the smell.

She inhaled, coughed, and passed it back.

"You good?” Paige asked, and for a second, Angela remembered why they’d actually gotten close last year. Paige was infuriating, but she also cared, made you feel like you were the only person in the world when she was around you.

“Can we talk?” Angela asked, using her lowest possible voice.

Paige nodded, and in a practiced move, they both ducked out toward the apartment balcony. They stood against the railing, both looking out at the city instead of at each other.

Angela breathed in the sound of cars and streetlights and said, “Look, I was bugging, okay? I shouldn’t have said what I said. It’s really none of my business who you’re dating or not dating or whatever."

Paige didn’t respond at first, just blew a tight stream of smoke toward the street.

“I didn’t mean to slut-shame,” Angela plowed on. “That was some internalized patriarchal bullshit and I know I do it sometimes. I just…it’s your life. You do what you want.”

Paige held her gaze on the traffic. Finally: “Yeah, well, I didn’t need to call you out about Vic, either. That was low.”

Angela shrugged. “It’s whatever. You weren’t wrong.”

Paige looked at her then, and Angela felt it—a shift, something loosening in the space between them. “We good?” Paige asked.

“We’re good,” Angela answered

…

Vic looked around at the crowd, all white couples and awkward jazz and servers who looked like they’d just shot a national campaign for Banana Republic. In a different mood, he might have clowned the whole set-up, but tonight he just let it wash over him.

Keshawn sat across from him, nursing a ginger beer, pretending not to people-watch but doing it anyway.

“You’ve really been a big help this year, bro,” Keshawn said, for maybe the fifth time that night.

Vic shook his head. “Don’t do that. We’re not making speeches. Not until you win an actual trophy, not that Rookie of the Month bullshit.”

Keshawn grinned, but it was tentative. “No, for real. I wouldn’t have made it through this year if you weren’t here. Shit, I wouldn’t have made it here without in the first place."

Vic couldn’t help it—he laughed. “You was always going to make it, cuz."

“I don’t know,” Keshawn said, suddenly serious, the way he always got when he was about to say something he actually meant. “There’s a difference between knowing you’re good and knowing you belong.”

“These niggas can’t fuck with you, nigga,” Vic scoffed, taking a bite from his steak.

Keshawn smiled. “Thanks, coach.”

Vic grimaced.

As if reading his mind, Keshawn added, “You ever think about going back to it?"

“What, coaching?"

“Yeah or like even training guys, pros, college, high school. You’re good at it, man."

Vic felt the compliment, wanted to accept it, but couldn’t quite picture it anymore, the suit no longer fitting.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. I’ve been thinking about going back to LA. Beg Coach Stewie for my job back. Wouldn’t that be some shit?"

Keshawn shrugged, "That ain’t a bad idea."

Vic looked surprise, "You think so?"

Keshawn nodded, his face open, waiting for more. When Vic didn’t offer it, the conversation drifted on, touching on everything and nothing—childhood memories, the new 2K, who the Blazers might be looking to bring on in the offseason.

When the check came, Keshawn paid it without a word, and Vic let him. They left the restaurant and stood outside, neither in a rush to be the first to leave.

“I appreciate you moving here,” Keshawn said, as if it needed saying again, "But like I totally understand if you need to go back or want to go back or go somewhere else. You got your own story to write and that shit just beginning, bro."

Vic nodded. "Yeah, we’ll see."

…

Angela could see it coming from a mile away. Paige and Ronnie, standing way too close in the corner of the party, Paige’s hand on Ronnie’s chest, Ronnie’s smile just a little too wide. The sight jolted her, not out of jealousy—she’d never been interested in Ronnie outside of platonic affection—but out of some primal, competitive part of her brain that triggered how she felt when she learned about Jessica.

She watched for a minute, weighing her options, her head buzzing with cheap vodka and the kind of social adrenaline that made every interaction seem more consequential than it was.

Paige was laughing, her face tilted up at Ronnie’s, that perfect smile she used when she really wanted something and she usually got it. Ronnie looked smitten, as they always did when Paige worked her charms. Hell, it worked on her.

She approached them, forcing a smile onto her lips, the tension in her shoulders relaxing just a little as she neared. “Hey, Ronnie!” she called out, her voice slicing through the ambient chatter.

Paige looked over but Angela had already locked eyes with Ronnie, catching the slight surprise etched on his face.

“Wanna dance?” she asked, her words flowing out quicker than she intended Before she could second-guess herself, she took his hand, a firm grip that felt familiar yet electrifying.

“Uh... sure,” Ronnie replied, glancing at Paige before letting Angela lead him toward the dance floor.

As they wove through the throng of bodies, Angela felt a rush of adrenaline, a momentary escape from the weight of the evening. The lights flashed around them, illuminating the crowded space, and with each step, the heaviness in her chest began to lift. Finally reaching the dance floor, she turned to face Ronnie, a playful grin spreading across her face.

Ronnie stood there for a moment, a little stiff, a hint of confusion on his face.

"You good? I didn’t take you for the dan—" he started, but the words barely left his mouth before she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

[Caesar]

Oh we just making every Black woman in this shit want someone else’s man (temporary or otherwise)?

Also, six (6) points? Them boys had you in hell

[Soapy]

Oh we just making every Black woman in this shit want someone else’s man (temporary or otherwise)?

Also, six (6) points? Them boys had you in hell

no excuses, that was some shit

well deserved slander

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: March 25th, 2026 - Moda Center, Portland, Oregon
(27-46) Milwaukee Bucks at Portland Trail Blazers (31-43)

---

MIL | 21 | 30 | 24 | 19 | 94
POR | 31 | 28 | 35 | 19 | 113

Starting Lineups
Cole Anthony - G - Scoot Henderson
Gary Trent Jr. - G - Shaedon Sharpe
Kyle Kuzma - F - Deni Avdija
Giannis Antetokounmpo - F - Keshawn Chase
Myles Turner - C - Donovan Clingan



F Giannis Antetokounmpo: 23 pts, 11 reb, 11 ast, 3 stl, 11-22 FG, 0-7 3PT
F Kyle Kuzma: 20 pts, 4 reb, 7-14 FG, 6-10 3PT
G Gary Trent Jr: 17 pts, 3 stl, 6-18 FG, 5-15 3PT

G Scoot Henderson: 21 pts, 5 ast, 8-10 FG, 5-8 FT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 22 pts, 10 ast, 10-18 FG, 1-7 3PT
F Deni Advija: 11 pts, 11 reb, 4-10 FG, 3-9 3PT
F Keshawn Chase: 21 pts, 11 reb, 8 ast, 9-14 FG, 0-3 3PT, 3-4 FT
C Donovan Clingan: 14 pts, 17 reb, 6-9 FG, 2-2 FT

---

(25-47) @ (30-43)

BKN | 22 | 26 | 28 | 40 | 116
POR | 26 | 22 | 26 | 36 | 110

BKN F Paul George: 27 Pts, 4 Reb, 2 Stl, 10-17 FG, 2-6 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 23 Pts, 10 Reb, 11 Ast, 2 Stl, 10-20 FG, 2-5 3PT

---

(50-24) @ (31-44)

DAL | 24 | 28 | 30 | 24 | 106
POR | 29 | 24 | 26 | 21 | 100

DAL G Kyrie Irving: 24 Pts, 4 Reb, 8 Ast, 10-25 FG, 1-9 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 15 Pts, 12 Ast, 2 Stl, 3 Blk, 5-13 FG, 4-4 FT

---

(11-63) @ (32-44)

WAS | 19 | 33 | 38 | 35 | 125
POR | 30 | 34 | 32 | 33 | 129

WAS G C.J. McCollum: 32 Pts, 4 Reb, 5 Ast, 12-19 FG, 7-12 3PT, 1-2 FT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 29 Pts, 14 Reb, 12 Ast, 2 Stl, 12-23 FG, 1-4 3PT, 4-4 FT

---

Upcoming Schedule at Los Angeles Clippers (41-34)
Season Stats 18.4 PPG, 7.8 RPG, 6.5 APG, 1.3 SPG, 0.9 BPG, 2.3 TOPG, 48 FG%, 30 3PT%, 78 FT%