Neighborhood.

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 2
"Motherfucker can’t guard me!" Dame barked, tapping the top of his head and smirking as he jogged back on defense. "I thought he was supposed to be All-Defense!"

Keshawn slammed the ball against his palm before tossing it to Thomas for the inbound. Coach Billups had divided them into two units for the scrimmage, experimenting with Keshawn at the point for the second team while Dame ran the first. It wasn't going well.

Keshawn called out the offensive set, trying to keep his voice steady as he brought the ball up. He signaled the play with his left hand, a simple high pick-and-roll designed to create space.

Thomas set the screen, and Keshawn used it to drive middle, only to find a help defender waiting for him there. He kicked it out to Josh Okogie, the free agent signing from Houston, who clanked the three pointer.

Donovan grabbed the rebound and kicked it out to Dame who called for a screen, getting Keshawn off him before rising for the three, which effortlessly went in. It was just one of those days.

"That's what a real pick and roll looks like, young blood!" Dame shouted, loud enough for the entire gym to hear.

"Fucking guard me, then," Keshawn shot back, the constant barking starting to get to him.

"You ain’t said nothing but a word,” Dame pushed Toumani out of the way, lowering into his defensive stance as he got in front of Keshawn who approved the top of the key.

Keshawn dribbled once, twice, feeling the rhythm. Even at his advanced age, Dame was quicker, but Keshawn had eight inches and forty pounds on him. He backed Dame down, one dribble at a time, feeling the smaller man fighting to hold his ground.

"I’m good!" he shouted, waving the help defense as it turned into a glorified one-on-one game.

Two more power dribbles and Keshawn had him under the basket. He spun baseline, gathered, and exploded upward. Dame tried to contest, but Keshawn was already above him, cocking the ball back with his right hand before hammering it through the rim.

The backboard shuddered. Several players on the sideline jumped to their feet, shouting.

"Little ass nigga!" he shouted in Dame’s face, who quickly shoved him.

Scoot was there suddenly, getting between them. Donovan grabbed Keshawn from behind while Deni stepped in front of Dame. Bodies crowded the paint as coaches and players rushed to separate them.

…

Keshawn turned the key in his front door, shoulders still tight from practice. He pushed open the door and was surprised to see her although he shouldn’t been. She was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone before looking up and smiling.

"Long day?" she asked, setting her phone down.

"I guess," he dropped his bag by the kitchen island.

"I can run you a bath," she said, joining him in the kitchen. "Epsom salts and everything. Doctor Candace's orders."

"You don’t have to—"

"Shut up and get in there before it gets cold," she gave him a gentle push toward the bathroom. "I figured you would need it."

The bathroom was steamy, the tub already filled. Keshawn stripped down and lowered himself into the heat, his long limbs barely fitting. He had wanted to remodel the bathroom but had been talked out of it by his father, calling it a starter home. The water enveloped his sore muscles, and he let his head fall back against the tub's edge, closing his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, he emerged in sweats and a t-shirt to find Candace plating food in the kitchen. Grilled chicken, sweet potatoes, and what seemed like a mountain of roasted vegetables.

"Trevor sent you his recipes?" he asked, sliding onto a stool at the counter.

"Something like that," she laughed.

They ate quietly, Keshawn too exhausted for much conversation. Afterward, they hung out on the couch where she'd set up the Normatec recovery boots.

As the boots pulsed around his legs, Candace settled next to him on the couch, her fingers absently stroking his arm.

"So," she said, "Your parents get in Friday night?"

Keshawn nodded. "Yeah, they’re staying downtown."

"I was thinking maybe some seafood," she continued, her voice casual but with an undercurrent of excitement. "I would ask Trevor to fly in but I feel like that sends the wrong message."

"Why you say that?" Keshawn chuckled.

"They’re gonna think I can’t cook," she let out a small laugh, "You not nervous about them meeting me?"

"Not really," he answered too quickly. "I mean, I guess. They’re not exactly used to all of this. They’re like regular, you know."

"And I'm not exactly the traditional girl-next-door type," she finished for him.

"It's not that," Keshawn shook his head. "They're gonna love you. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"They've never met a girlfriend before. You're the first."

Candace's eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Wait, seriously? Like, ever?"

Keshawn shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh my god," she laughed, covering her mouth. "You were a total loser in high school, weren't you? Mr. Big Shot NBA player couldn't get a date to prom?"

"I didn’t say all of that," he protested weakly.

"Yeah, right," she playfully rolled her eyes, "No wonder you're so clueless sometimes."

"I'm not clueless," he argued, but he couldn't help smiling at the way she was looking at him.

…

"Good looking on handling that situation with them Long Beach faggots," Rafael said, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry beyond their table. His eyes flicked toward the guards before returning to Trey's face.

Trey's face didn’t betray any emotions. It seldom did these days. "It needed handling."

"That it did," Rafael nodded. "Them Insane motherfuckers been stepping out of line for a while.

"Let's be clear though," Trey leaned forward slightly. "What we got in here, it's about survival. About keeping the Woods and Southsiders from running shit. That’s what it’s about, that’s where it starts and where it ends."

Rafael studied him for a long moment before a smile crept across his face. "Ain't nobody confused about that, homies. Streets is streets."

He tapped his knuckles against the table. "What Stacks was trying to put together with Insane? That was pure fucking blasphemy and heresy, man."

Trey's brow furrowed. "The fuck is heresy? That like some kinda STD or something?"

Rafael stared at him for a beat before bursting into laughter, the sound echoing off the concrete walls which wasn’t witness to many of those.

"Nah, man," Rafael shook his head, still fighting a smile. "It means like... going against what's sacred. Breaking the rules that matter."

"Oh," Trey nodded, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Well shit, should've just said that."

Rafael chuckled again, quieter this time. "You a funny nigga, man. I heard you was a wild boy. Shit, from where I’m standing, you still is."

"Yeah, well," Trey shrugged, the tension between them momentarily dissolved. "That’s how you last in this motherfucker."

The buzzer sounded, signaling it was time for count. As they stood, Rafael extended his fist. Trey hesitated only briefly before bumping it with his own, a small gesture that spoke volumes in a place where such alliances were both necessary and dangerous.

[Captain Canada]

Feels wrong to try and little boy a vet like Dame. Keshawn better chill

[Caesar]

Candace about to start taking advantage of this man.

[Soapy]

Feels wrong to try and little boy a vet like Dame. Keshawn better chill

just a little competitive spirit

Candace about to start taking advantage of this man.

he's on his rookie deal so her paper probably still longer than his right now

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 3
The ice pack numbed Keshawn's shoulder as he sat in the training room, watching the digital clock tick away the minutes before their final practice.

"When'd you get that work done?" Dame asked, sliding onto the table next to him, nodding toward Keshawn's arm where the freshly inked tattoos were still healing.

"Last week," Keshawn replied, the artwork still surprising him every time he looked down.

Dame extended his own arm, showcasing a collage of ink that traveled from wrist to shoulder. "Shit gets addicting. Started with one, now look at me. Forgot what my arm looks like. What’d you get?”

"Umm," Keshawn held his arm out, "Just different shit that means something to me. I knew my folks were going to go crazy so I figured why not go all out, right? Got something for my Bruins."

"Of course," Dame shook his head, "That was a nice run y’all went on."

"This one is…I don’t know how to explain it," Keshawn traced his finger along the outline of a dice and a stop watch, "Life’s a dice roll, you know?" You gotta know when to take a chance, when not to, with who."

"And you got time working against you," Dame chimed off.

Keshawn nodded before moving to the majestic image of a dove that rested at the top of his shoulder, "This one’s for my boy. He passed away earlier this year."

"That’s some nice work."

The trainer finished wrapping Dame's knee and stepped away, leaving them alone in the corner of the room.

"Listen," Dame cleared his throat. "I appreciated how you nutted up when I came at you the other day. That's exactly what I needed to see."

Keshawn nodded, unsure what to say. They hadn’t spoken much since the fracas with Keshawn purposefully avoiding Dame, not wanting to make too much out of it while also not wanting to show too much deference to the future Hall of Famer.

"Most young guys would've folded," Dame continued, sliding off the table and testing his weight on the wrapped knee. "But you pushed back. That's what this franchise needs from you."

"Just playing my game," Keshawn mumbled, trying to hide how much Dame’s approval really meant to him.

Dame laughed, the sound echoing against the white walls. "Nah, my nigga. That ain't just playing your game. That's leading. That's showing these motherfuckers who you are. You gotta understand something about this league. About what's coming for you. Carrying a franchise is a full-time fucking job in of itself. And it ain't just about what you do on the court."

Keshawn removed the ice pack, setting it aside as he gave Dame his full attention. He’d had these talks before but usually with Coach Bronstein. This felt different. This wasn’t a coach bestowing upon some ancient wisdom. This was someone that had gone through the rigors of the NBA and not only made it out but thrived.

"Everyone already looks at you waiting on you to lead," Dame explained. "You just need to step the fuck up and take a hold of that motherfucker."

"What exactly are they expecting?" Keshawn asked.

Dame smiled. "Motherfucker, every little thing, nigga. The buckets, the leadership, the face of the franchise shit. The media obligations. The community work. Being the first one in, last one out. Setting the culture. Taking the blame when it ain’t yours. Not sulking in it when it is."

He paused, rolling his shoulder back.

"This is my last ride," Dame continued. "After this season, it's all yours. But it can’t start next year. It gotta start now. When I leave, it’s going to be every motherfucker in here trying to fill up that space, fill up that void. You gotta establish this shit right here, right now that this is your shit and I’m on your motherfucker team, not the other way around."

"I feel you," Keshawn nodded, "Really, though."

Dame nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He tapped Keshawn's freshly tattooed arm, right on the stopwatch image. "Time's ticking, young blood."

…

Keshawn slung his gym bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the pressure on his still-tender shoulder. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he pushed through the double doors toward the underground parking garage.

Don't forget the ice!

Shit. He'd almost forgotten his parents were coming over tonight. He tucked the phone into his pocket, making a mental note to stop by the gas station.

"Yo, Chase!" Michael Porter Jr.'s voice bounced off the concrete walls. "That’s an F8?"

Michael jogged over, pointing at Keshawn’s Ferrari, his gift to himself in the offseason. "When you gonna let me take this beauty for a spin?"

"You got enough paper to get five of these things," Keshawn replied, smirking as he clicked the key fob.

"Pocket watching don’t look good on you, my boy," Michael smiled. "Taking the rooks out to dinner. Well, they’re taking me out to dinner and they don’t know it yet. What you say we pull up in that F8? The bitches gonna go crazy!"

"Nah, I can't tonight," Keshawn said automatically. "Got plans."

Michael's face fell slightly. "Come on, man. Just for a bit. You remember being a rookie, right? We gotta break these motherfuckers in, 4-4."

Keshawn hesitated, Dame's words echoing in his mind. Setting the culture. Being a leader. Taking the rookies under his wing felt like part of the job description.

"The young boys need to see how the vets move," Michael pressed. "I’m Unc to them but you? Mr. Rookie of the Year? National Champion? It’ll mean a lot, make sure they don’t fuck off their money with a million dollar in their first year.

"Fuck you," Keshawn had gotten used to Michael’s sense of humor since the trade last year, bringing some levity to a group that could be uptight at times, Keshawn partly to blame. He glanced at his watch. He could swing by, make an appearance, show the rookies some love, and still make it back in time.

"Alright," he nodded finally. "But I'm driving."

…

Keshawn pushed open the front door of his home, his head buzzing pleasantly from the few cocktails he'd downed with the team. The smell of roasted chicken hit him first, then the uncomfortable silence. Three pairs of eyes turned toward him with his parents seated at the dining table, and Candace standing by the kitchen island.

"Oh shit," Keshawn muttered. "Sorry for being late. We were doing something for the last day of camp."

He crossed to his mother first, bending down to hug her. Loraine's arms wrapped around him stiffly, her nose wrinkling as she pulled back.

"Smells like you had a good time," she said, one eyebrow arched high.

"Just hanging out with the guys," Keshawn said, moving to embrace his father, who gave him two firm pats on the back.

"Good to see," Elijah acknowledged, his expression unreadable.

Keshawn turned to Candace last, giving her a quick, awkward side-hug that felt more like bumping shoulders. Her body tensed against his.

"Did you remember the ice?" she asked quietly.

The ice. Fuck. He'd completely forgotten, even after her text.

"I, uh—" he started.

Candace sighed, turning back toward the kitchen. "It's fine. I figured you might forget, so I asked the delivery guy to bring some."

"I'm sorry," Keshawn mumbled, feeling the weight of his mother's disapproving stare.

"Dinner's getting cold," Loraine announced, straightening the silverware in front of her.

"Yeah," Keshawn nodded, grateful for the excuse to escape. "Give me five minutes to clean."

He retreated to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The mirror reflected his exhaustion and the guilt he felt for leaving Candace alone with his parents for so long, having completely forgotten about it by the second round of shots that Michael had ordered.

Through the bathroom door, he could hear the muffled sounds of attempted conversation in the dining room. He couldn't make out the words, but the awkward rhythm of it with long pauses and forced responses was unmistakable.

When Keshawn emerged a few minutes later, hair still damp, the awkward was still there.

"So," Elijah was saying, clearing his throat, "What kind of music do you make? I know you’re a rapper but what do you rap about in your songs? Anything we might have heard on the radio?"

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: October 21st, 2026 - Moda Center, Portland, Oregon
(1-0) Phoenix Suns at Portland Trail Blazers (0-1)

---

PHX | 29 | 28 | 30 | 45 | 132
POR | 27 | 25 | 38 | 37 | 127

Starting Lineups
Devin Booker - G - Damian Lillard
Jalen Green - G - Shaedon Sharpe
Dillon Brooks - F - Michael Porter Jr.
Nate Ament - F - Keshawn Chase
Mark Williams - C - Donovan Clingan



G Jalen Green: 38 pts, 9 reb, 7 ast, 13-19 FG, 4-7 3PT
F Nate Ament: 18 pts, 2 reb, 2 ast, 8-18 FG, 2-11 3PT
G Devin Booker: 16 pts, 3 reb, 4 ast, 6-15 FG, 1-9 3PT

G Damian Lillard: 28 pts, 3 TO, 9-16 FG, 5-8 3PT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 10 pts, 5 reb, 8 ast, 3-7 FG, 2-6 3PT
F Michael Porter Jr: 9 pts, 8 reb, 3-9 FG, 1-4 3PT
F Keshawn Chase: 38 pts, 11 reb, 12 ast, 16-25 FG, 1-3 3PT, 5-6 FT
C Donovan Clingan: 10 pts, 9 reb, 2 ast, 5-6 FG

---

(2-2) @ (0-2)

SAC | 30 | 44 | 29 | 34 | 137
POR | 28 | 30 | 36 | 26 | 120

SAC G Zach LaVine: 28 Pts, 3 Reb, 2 Ast, 11-15 FG, 2-4 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 22 Pts, 8 Reb, 9 Ast, 9-19 FG, 3-9 3PT

---

(0-3) @ (2-2)

POR | 32 | 33 | 15 | 27 | 107
CHI | 36 | 27 | 31 | 23 | 117

POR F Keshawn Chase: 10 Pts, 7 Reb, 8 Ast, 2 Stl, 2 Blk, 3-12 FG, 5 Fls
CHI G Coby White: 29 Pts, 5 Reb, 11-16 FG, 7-9 3PT

---

(0-4) @ (4-2)

POR | 21 | 24 | 33 | 21 | 99
SAC | 32 | 35 | 26 | 31 | 124

POR F Keshawn Chase: 23 Pts, 9 Reb, 11 Ast, 3 Blk, 8-19 FG, 1-3 3PT, 6-6 FT
SAC G Zach LaVine: 31 Pts, 5 Reb, 8 Ast, 12-14 FG, 4-6 3PT

---

(1-4) @ (5-3)

POR | 21 | 29 | 38 | 45 | 133
LAC | 26 | 29 | 41 | 27 | 123

POR F Keshawn Chase: 31 Pts, 11 Reb, 11 Ast, 4 Stl, 11-20 FG, 0-4 3PT, 9-14 FT
LAC G Trae Young: 36 Pts, 6 Reb, 10 Ast, 12-26 FG, 6-14 3PT

Upcoming Schedule vs. Utah Jazz (2-5), vs. Los Angeles Clippers (5-3), at Denver Nuggets (4-4)
Season Stats 24.8 PPG, 9.2 RPG, 10.2 APG, 1.4 SPG, 1.2 BPG, 3.6 TOPG, 49 FG%, 25 3PT%, 80 FT%

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 4
"I still can't believe your dad asked if I was a 'gangsta rapper'" Candace said, her laugh genuine as she cut into her seared salmon.

Keshawn groaned, the memory of that awkward dinner still fresh even weeks later. "I literally wanted to kill myself that entire dinner."

"Your mom kept is cute, I’ll give her that. She definitely let it be known that she was hoping I had another 'real job' but she was a lot slicker with it," Candace continued as she took a sip of her water, "They fucking hate me."

Keshawn reached across the table, taking her hand. He'd only managed to steal away for a quick lunch before heading to the arena for shootaround, but these stolen moments made the grueling road schedule almost bearable.

"They don't hate you," Keshawn said, squeezing her fingers. "They're just... them. You know?"

Candace's eyebrow arched, skepticism written across her face. "And how would you know what they think? You barely talk to them."

Keshawn winced. "Damn, just going straight for the jugular, huh?"

"Am I wrong, though?" She withdrew her hand, reaching for her mimosa.

"No," he admitted, leaning back in his chair, the truth more complicated than he could quickly explain. "It's weird with us. After they went away, everything changed."

Candace's expression softened. "Change how?"

Keshawn stared down at his half-eaten meal, pushing a piece of avocado toast around with his fork. "When they got locked up, things changed. I had to live somewhere else, be around different people, grow the fuck up. By the time they got out, I was on my way to UCLA right after so we never really settled back into that family rhythm, you know?"

"That must have been hard for all of you."

"Yeah," he nodded, memories flooding back to a time that wasn’t that long ago but felt like a lifetime had passed since. "When they came home, I didn't know how to be their kid anymore and then once I got to UCLA and then the league? Shit, it was over for that."

The waiter refilled their water glasses, and Keshawn waited until he was gone before continuing.

"I love them but it’s like, besides the store, we don’t got much else to talk about. They don’t know this life. I don’t know theirs, not really. We can chop it up about the store but…"

"But it's all business," Candace finished for him.

"Exactly,” he shrugged.

Candace nodded thoughtfully. "That's so different from me and my mom. I swear, if I don't call her every day, she's blowing up my phone like I went missing."

"Yeah, your mom's cool though,” Keshawn smiled, "I feel like she’s our age, you know? Can just hang with her."

"She liked you too," Candace smiled, reaching for his hand again. "Maybe—"

The waiter appeared at their table, carrying a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

"Compliments of the gentleman," he said, gesturing toward a corner table.

Keshawn followed the waiter's gaze to a large group near the back of the restaurant. At the head of the table sat a man who looked like a walking mannequin with gold chains layered over a designer shirt, diamonds flashing at his wrists, ears, and fingers. He caught Keshawn's eye and raised his glass in a mock toast, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"No, thank you," Candace said, her voice suddenly tight.

"It's Dom Pérignon, madam."

"Take it back," she snapped, all the warmth draining from her face. "Thank you."

The waiter hesitated, looking between them and the corner table. As the waiter retreated with the unwanted bottle, Keshawn studied Candace's face. H

"Who is that?" he asked.

Candace exhaled slowly, her composure returning as she met his eyes. "That," she said, "is my piece of shit ex."

…

Vic adjusted Yesenia in his arms, bouncing her gently as she cooed at the bright lights and noise of the arena. Jessica stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the court where she still couldn’t believe that was Keshawn, the same Keshawn that her and Gloria 'welcomed' to Westwood just two years ago.

"That’s a bad mothersucker right there," Vic said, nodding his daughter toward his cousin. "I taught him those moves, you know that, right?"

Jessica leaned closer. "Can we say hi to him?"

Vic turned to her, surprise evident on his face. "You want to talk to Keshawn?"

"Why not?" Jessica shrugged, adjusting her top. "I mean, we came all this way. Might as well say hi, right?"

Gloria, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, looked up sharply. "Are you serious right now?"

"Come on," Jessica urged, already gathering her purse. "It'll be fun."

"Fun for who?" Gloria hissed, elbowing Jessica hard in the ribs.

Vic glanced between them, then down at Yesenia who was starting to fuss. "We can. If y’all want."

…

They navigated through the thinning crowd, making their way toward the tunnel that led to the visiting team's locker room. Gloria hung back, constantly tugging at her blouse and checking her reflection in her phone camera.

"Girl, stop," Jessica whispered. "You look fine."

"Bitch, please," Gloria shot back, though her fingers still nervously combed through her hair.

As they approached the security checkpoint, Jessica watched as the guard's stern expression melted into recognition when he spotted Vic.

"Vic!" The guard extended a fist for Vic to bump. "What’s good, nephew?!"

"Just getting through another twenty-four, Unc," Vic returned the greeting, shifting Yesenia to his other arm. "These are my people."

The guard nodded, lifting the rope barrier without hesitation. "Players should be out soon."

Jessica couldn't hide her impressed smile as they were escorted to a small waiting area. "Damn, you bring all your girls through here?"

Vic just shrugged, but Jessica caught the hint of pride in his posture.

They didn't wait long before players began filtering out, some stopping to greet family members, others heading straight for the bus. Gloria pressed herself against the wall, her eyes darting nervously toward the locker room door.

When Keshawn emerged, his eyes widened momentarily at the sight of Jessica and Gloria. He recovered quickly, a smile spreading across his face as his gaze landed on Yesenia in Vic's arms.

"Didn't expect to see y'all here."

"Had to come support," Vic said, clasping hands with his cousin before pulling him into a half-hug.

Keshawn immediately turned his attention to the baby. "Look at my little shorty. She getting big, bro!"

"You want to hold her?" Jessica offered, already reaching to take Yesenia from Vic.

"Hell yeah," Keshawn said, his large hands dwarfing the baby as he cradled her against his chest. "What's up, little mama?"

Yesenia gurgled, reaching up to grab at his face. Keshawn laughed, bouncing her gently as he looked up and finally made eye contact with Gloria who was hovering at the edge of their group.

"Hey Gloria," he said, his voice softer.

"Hey, Ke," she replied, offering a tight smile as she stepped forward for a quick side hug, careful not to disturb Yesenia. "Congrats on the win. On everything."

"Appreciate it," he said, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before returning to the baby.

The moment stretched between them until Jessica broke the silence.

"So," she said, her voice bright with forced casualness, "We should hang out tonight. For old times' sake."

Keshawn looked up, surprise evident on his face. "Tonight?"

"Yeah," Jessica pressed. "Unless you got other plans?"

Vic watched the exchange, then glanced at his watch. "We could drop Yesenia off at my mom's. She's always asking for more time with her anyway."

Keshawn seemed to consider this, bouncing Yesenia gently as she played with the collar of his shirt. "We got Utah tomorrow but some of the vets been trying to get the coaches to let us spend the night in LA so…"

"Chase!" A team assistant called from further down the hallway. "Bus in fifteen!"

Keshawn nodded acknowledgment before carefully handing Yesenia back to Jessica. "Text me the spot. I'll see if I can make it."

As he turned to leave, Gloria finally spoke up. "It was really good seeing you, Ke."

He paused, giving her another quick smile. "You too, Glo."

They watched him disappear back toward the locker room, Jessica already pulling out her phone to look up nearby clubs.

"So," Vic said, taking Yesenia back from Jessica. "I'll call my mom?"

…

The bass throbbed through the exclusive section of Privilege, the VIP area sectioned off with velvet ropes and watchful security. Gloria nursed her vodka soda, trying to keep her eyes anywhere but on Keshawn and the woman draped possessively against his side. Candace. The name tasted bitter in Gloria's mind as she watched them whisper to each other, sharing private jokes and casual touches that spoke of established intimacy.

"You didn't tell me they were together," Gloria hissed at Jessica, who was swaying to the music beside her.

Jessica shook her head. "Bitch, I didn't know either! Vic told me he was seeing somebody, just not fucking Kandi!"

Gloria glanced at Vic, who was busy ordering another round of bottles. She did her best to avoid them throughout the night but inevitable, her eyes always landed on Keshawn with Candace draped on him as they sat near the back of the section.

"I can’t stay here," Gloria muttered, setting her drink down on the table.

"Don't you fucking dare. Girl, we are partying with fucking NBA niggas tonight. Are you really about to ditch me?" She nodded toward the adjacent section where several Blazers players were holding court.

Gloria followed Jessica's gaze to spot the one of the younger player, his fresh face a stark contrast to the seasoned veterans surrounding him. "Vic, can you introduce me?"

Vic looked up from signing the receipt, shrugging. "Don't really know him like that. He's just a rookie."

"Great," Gloria sighed, gathering her purse.

She stood up, maneuvering past the low tables when a deep voice called out.

"You’ve leaving already?"

Gloria turned to find Michael, one of Keshawn’s teammates, standing at the edge of their section, a bottle of champagne in hand.

"Just needed some air," she lied, surprised by the attention.

Michael's smile widened. "We got better air in our section. Why don't you come through?"

Gloria hesitated, glancing back at their table. Her eyes met Keshawn's for a brief moment. He was watching the exchange, his expression unreadable before he turned back to Candace, whispering something in her ear.

"Sure," Gloria found herself saying. "Why not?"

Back at the table, Keshawn pressed his lips against Candace's ear to be heard over the music. "I think we should head out."

Candace pulled back slightly, searching his face. "Really? We just got here and all of your teammates are still here."

"Yeah, well," Keshawn watched as Gloria accepted a drink from one of the women in Michael's entourage, "There's a reason I'm playing the way I am, and they're not."

A slow smile spread across Candace's face as she traced a finger along his jawline. "Confidence is sexy on you."

Keshawn stood, reaching for his jacket. He caught Vic's eye and pulled out his credit card, sliding it across the table. "We're heading out. Y'all good?"

Vic nodded, pocketing the card without comment. "All good."

As they made their way toward the exit, Keshawn felt Gloria's eyes follow them. He didn't look back.

In Michael's section, Gloria accepted a flute of champagne, her attention split between the animated conversations around her and the retreating figures of Keshawn and Candace.

"So you’re friends with Chase?" Michael asked, reclaiming her attention.

Gloria nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, we went to college together."

"No shit," Michael laughed, signaling for another bottle. "Any embarrassing stories I can use against him?"

Gloria took a long sip of her champagne, the bubbles coming alive as it went down her throat.

"You have no idea," she said, letting herself be pulled into the rhythm of the night.

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: November 7th, 2026 - Ball Arena, Denver, Colorado
(2-6) Portland Trail Blazers at Denver Nuggets (5-5)

---

POR | 24 | 19 | 22 | 27 | 92
DEN | 15 | 35 | 36 | 26 | 112

Starting Lineups
Damian Lillard - G - Jamal Murray
Shaedon Sharpe - G - Christian Braun
Michael Porter Jr. - F - Matisse Thybulle
Keshawn Chase - F - Aaron Gordon
Donovan Clingan - C - Nikola Jokic



G Damian Lillard: 32 pts, 2 reb, 3 ast, 12-21 FG, 8-14 3PT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 9 pts, 3 reb, 6 ast, 4-14 FG, 1-8 3PT
F Michael Porter Jr: 5 pts, 4 reb, 2-3 FG, 1-2 3PT
F Keshawn Chase: 37 pts, 8 reb, 7 ast, 2 stl, 14-21 FG, 4-9 3PT, 5-6 FT
C Donovan Clingan: 0 pts, 11 reb, 0-2 FG, 0-1 3PT

C Nikola Jokic: 39 pts, 17 reb, 6 ast, 17-25 FG, 5-5 FT
G Jamal Murray: 17 pts, 6 reb, 11 ast, 3 stl, 7-19 FG, 2-6 3PT
F Aaron Gordon: 16 pts, 2 reb, 3 ast, 6-10 FG, 4-8 3PT

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(3-5) @ (1-5)

UTA | 24 | 38 | 25 | 31 | 118
POR | 33 | 29 | 24 | 23 | 109

UTA G Keyonte George: 28 Pts, 7 Ast, 4 Stl, 10-21 FG, 5-10 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 20 Pts, 11 Reb, 5 Ast, 2 Stl, 4 Blk, 7-18 FG, 2-4 3PT

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(6-4) @ (2-5)

LAC | 22 | 10 | 21 | 35 | 88
POR | 26 | 20 | 25 | 18 | 89

LAC G Trae Young: 30 Pts, 8 Ast, 12-24 FG, 5-14 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 13 Pts, 10 Reb, 7 Ast, 2 Stl, 2 Blk, 5-13 FG, 0-2 3PT, 3-6 FT

Upcoming Schedule at Oklahoma City Thunder (6-5), at Denver Nuggets (5-5), vs. Minnesota Timberwolves (8-1)
Season Stats 24.2 PPG, 9.4 RPG, 8.8 APG, 1.6 SPG, 1.5 BPG, 3.6 TOPG, 49 FG%, 31 3PT%, 75 FT%

[Caesar]

Gloria about to have the entire team laughing at Keshawn for being afraid of pussy.

The ex about to swoop in and take ol' girl from him too

Also, Jessica saying nigga now?

Also, also, these niggas playing like ass. Lawd almighty.

[Agent]

statline's are crazy. Man is a walking triple double at the 4