Neighborhood.

[Soapy]

At what point do people start getting in Keshawn's ear about a forcing a trade?

I was about to comment the same thing. Team gotta make some moves at some point. Wasting Keshawn's talent

only in year 2 so i feel like its early for that

Can’t wait to explain to my wife why there is a strip club in my phone history now.

Never clicking your links again.

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 15
Keshawn stepped out of the Uber behind Michael, the humidity wrapping around him like a wet blanket. The line outside Magic City stretched down the block, bodies pressed together, everyone trying to get inside before last call. But they walked past all of it, straight to the door where a bouncer stepped aside.

The club was packed, befitting of its reputation. Even before the league, Keshawn had heard about it and with just a quick glance, Keshawn quickly realized what the type was about.

A woman who left nothing to the imagination materialized in front of them, leading them to a curved booth already set up with bottles.

"Just y’all?" she asked, her eyes on Michael but her body angled toward Keshawn in a way that made it clear she was still for the taking for the night.

"For now," Michael smiled as she filled their glasses before exiting out the section although Keshawn had a feeling she’d be back.

Two women appeared at their section, moving past the rope like a nuisance. One of them had honey-colored skin. The other was darker, shorter, with a body that made him forget about the first one for a second.

"Michael," the first one said, her voice carrying an accent that reminded Keshawn of his official visits to the SWAC. "You didn't tell me you were coming through."

"You know how it is," Michael stood up to hug her. "This is my boy Keshawn. Keshawn, this is Alysha and Nissy."

Alysha's eyes moved over him slowly. "He’s one of the young pups, huh?"

Nissy was already sitting down next to Keshawn, close enough that her thigh pressed against his. "You want a dance, papi?"

"We’re vibing right now," Michael answered for him, pouring more drinks.

But Nissy didn't move, just settled in closer, her hand finding his knee like they hadn’t just met. Keshawn took another drink, bigger this time, letting the alcohol do what it was supposed to do.

The bottles kept coming. More women appeared, a rotation of faces and bodies that Keshawn stopped trying to keep track of after the third or fourth. They all looked the same after a while, all smelled the same, all said the same things in slightly different ways. Michael continued to hold court, throwing money, ordering bottles, his arm around Alysha one minute and someone else the next.

Nissy's hand had moved higher on his thigh, her lips close to his ear. "You sure you don't want that dance?"

The smart thing would be to say no. The smart thing would be to finish this drink, tell Michael he was heading back to the hotel, catch a few hours of sleep before their flight. But Vic was never going to sit in a section at Magic City. Stefan was never going to have women fighting for his attention, never going to throw money he didn't have to worry about. They didn't get this. They'd never get this. Wasn’t this what Vic had worked so hard for, what Stefan had wanted so badly? It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

"Maybe later," he heard himself say, but he didn't push her hand away.

More women appeared. Someone else brought shots, probably a futile attempt to impress the dancers and female patrons that were hovering around their section, little glasses filled with bad decisions. Michael distributed them like he was dealing cards.

"To the good motherfucking life," Michael announced, holding his shot glass up.

"To the good life," Keshawn muttered, and threw the shot back before he could change his mind.

…

DJ leaned against the bar, nursing a beer he'd barely touched, watching the dominoes game in the corner wind down. The old heads were packing up their pieces, settling debts, talking shit about who got lucky and who didn't know what the fuck they were doing. The bartender was wiping down glasses, the TV playing highlights from some game DJ didn't care about.

He'd already moved half of his pack tonight. The regular from last week had come back, brought a friend. DJ had their money in his pocket now, folded in with the rest.

The door opened and DJ's eyes flicked toward it out of habit, his eyes meeting Peanut’s.

"Yo," Peanut nodded, "I know you, right?"

DJ kept his expression neutral, debating his options. This was always the plan but this felt soon, too soon. "Yeah, I saw you the other night at the spot."

"Yeah, yeah," Peanut laughed, "I thought that was you."

"DJ," DJ held his hand out. Peanut paused but nonetheless dapped him up.

"Peanut," he nodded, signaling the bartender, "Where you from?"

"Compton," DJ stood his ground, knowing the implication of that corner. "Staying with my cousin over in Baldwin Village though. Just staying out the way."

"Baldwin Village," Peanut repeated, his drink arriving quickly. "That's what's up. How long you been back?"

"A couple months."

"Yeah?" Peanut's eyes moved over him. "How you liking it?"

"It's different," DJ said, which was true enough. "Good to be home though."

They sat there for a moment, both of them drinking, the silence comfortable in a way that said they both understood what wasn't being said.

"You know," Peanut said finally, setting his glass down, "I been seeing you around here. Other people too. You in this motherfucker almost every day, ain’t you?"

DJ didn't respond, just waited.

"This is a nice spot," Peanut continued, his voice still light, conversational. "I can see why you getting real friendly up in this motherfucker."

"I ain't trying to step on nobody's toes," DJ said.

"Nah, I can tell," Peanut's smile widened, more genuine now. "You been real respectful about it."

"Just trying to eat."

"And you should," Peanut finished his drink, already signaling for another. "I don't got a problem with you nickeling and diming your way through here. Hustle is hustle, you feel me? I’m sure we can work something out."

DJ nodded slowly. "That's more than fair."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the fold of bills. Didn't count it, didn't make a show of it. Just peeled off three twenties and a ten, sliding them across the bar. "A show of my appreciation and your understanding."

Peanut palmed the money. "My nigga," he said, extending his fist.

…

The knock on Keshawn's hotel room door came just after nine, loud enough to pull him from the kind of sleep that felt more like passing out. His head throbbed, his mouth tasted like something died in it, and the light creeping through the curtains made him want to pull the covers back over his head.

He stumbled to the door, squinting through the peephole.

"Open up," Michael said through the door.

Keshawn unlocked it, stepping back to let him in.

"I’m dissapointed," Michael said as he looked over Keshawn’s bed, "But not surprised."

"Shut the fuck up," Keshawn moved to the mini-fridge, taking out a water, "Still leaving at 10?"

"No, we’re staying."

"What?"

"In Atlanta," Michael explained. "We're not flying back with the team."

Keshawn's brain felt too slow to process this. "We are?"

"We don’t have practice until day after tomorrow," Michael dropped onto the couch. "I already cleared it with Coach. They're cool with it."

"They are?"

"Nigga, we’re fucking terrible," Michael laughed, "These motherfuckers want to get to All-Star break just as bad as we do so they don’t give a shit."

"I don't know, man," Keshawn stretched his arms out, not fully awake yet. "We should probably head back."

"For what?" Michael shrugged. "To sit in Portland and do what? We got a whole day off. Four days until our next game. The season's already fucked. Might as well enjoy ourselves."

Keshawn grabbed a shirt from his dresser, throwing it on.

"Besides," Michael continued, "Alysha and them are expecting us. I’m sure you don’t want to dissapoint Nissa anymore than you’ve already done."

The day was somehow even more of a blur than the night before. They met with them for brunch in Buckhead, the women looking different in daylight but not in a bad way. Keshawn was able to take down a few mimosas before a trip to the bathroom was needed, threatening to cut the day short but that only triggered a rally. They switched to tequila sunrises and eventually just shots, the morning bleeding into early afternoon.

It was right around when they went to another lounge for a day party that things got really blurry, trips to the bathroom sink no longer getting the job done. By the time they reached someone’s apartment, a high-rise with a view of the ticket, Keshawn was practically on auto-pilot.

"You good?" Nissy appeared next to him, two drinks in her hands.

"Yeah," he took one despite his liver’s protest.

The sun started to drop, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Keshawn wasn’t sure how long they sat out there for but by the time he came to, night time had come and Michael had joined him on the balcony.

"Welcome back," Michael teased as Keshawn took a peak inside where people were still hanging around. "You aight?"

"Yeah," Keshawn answered even though his head was screaming and his stomach was upside down.

"Yeah, right," Michael laughed, taking a pull from his cigar, "So here's the thing. I was thinking we could miss our flight tomorrow too."

"Nigga, are you serious right now?"

"Just blame it on a delay or some shit," Michael shrugged.

"Nigga, they’re going to see that our flight wasn’t delayed."

"They could," Michael tilted his head from side to side. "If they decide to check. If they want to check. You're the best player on this team. I'm the highest paid and fucking hurt anyway. The season's already fucked. What are they gonna do, fine us? Suspend us? Come on, little nigga, this is the NBA."

"I don't know—"

"Nigga, if you go back, I have to go back and I ain’t trying to go back," Michael pulled out his phone.

He tossed the phone to Keshawn, who caught it reflexively.

"Go through my recent follows," Michael said. "Find us a bad bitch we can fly out."

Keshawn couldn’t imagine another day of this. And yet, spending the next day regretting the previous day, hungover as shit in his house by himself didn’t sound appealing either.

[Captain Canada]

The slander you've depicted Michael Porter Jr. as being is horrific

Nasty niggas.

[Soapy]

The slander you've depicted Michael Porter Jr. as being is horrific

Nasty niggas.

i was hesitant to do so at first and was gonna use one of the fictional rookies but the more we've learned about MPJ, the more the shoe fits so i feel less bad

[Caesar]

Keshawn trying to be outside when he ain’t built for outside. Better go find himself a nice church going woman to settle down with.

[Soapy]

Keshawn trying to be outside when he ain’t built for outside. Better go find himself a nice church going woman to settle down with.

who among us

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 16
Jessica’s face dropped as she opened the door to find him standing there. She was dressed casual but put together, her hair pulled back, makeup done just enough to look like she wasn't wearing any.

"Fuck," she muttered, stepping aside to let him in.

Vic moved past her into the apartment, already scanning for Yesenia.

"I totally fucked up, Vic," Jessica closed the door behind him. "I completely forgot this was your weekend."

Vic turned to face her fully now.

"We switched with the trip to Portland and I completely got turned around," Jessica's hands moved as she talked, gesturing in that way she did when she was nervous. "I made plans for Yesenia to have a playdate today."

Vic could feel the disappointment settling in but he kept his face calm. This was the kind of shit that used to start arguments, the kind of thing that would spiral into accusations about who cared more, who was trying harder. But they weren't those people anymore. Couldn't be.

"It's all good," he said, and meant it. "I'll just take her tomorrow."

"Really?" Jessica's shoulders dropped, relief washing over her features.

"Yeah, it’s cool," Vic shrugged. "We been switching around a lot. I get it."

"Thank you," Jessica let out a sigh of relief. "Seriously, Vic."

"Don't stress it," Vic said, already turning toward the door.

"You can come," Jessica's voice stopped him. "The party's at the park. On Fairfax. I mean, it's just going to be a bunch of kids running around and probably some terrible food, but I’m sure she’d like if you were there too."

Vic paused, his hand on the doorknob. The smart thing would be to just leave, come back tomorrow when it was actually his time, keep those boundaries clear. But the image of Yesenia at some park, playing with other kids while he sat alone in his apartment, made the decision easier than it should have been.

"Yeah, alright," he heard himself say. "What time?"

…

"I don't give a fucking shit," Coach Crawford's voice echoed off the concrete walls of the training facility hallway, "You think we’re fucking stupid?

Michael stood there with his arms crossed. "I don’t know what you want me to tell you. We were already at the airport when—"

"Bullshit," Crawford cut him off, stepping forward, "That was the only flight that day?"

Keshawn kept his mouth shut, his eyes on the floor. The smart play was to let Michael handle this.

"We’re here now," Michael shrugged. "Not like we missed a game or nothing."

"How fucking nice of you," Crawford’s laugh was more of a cackle.

Crawford opened his mouth, probably to say something about accountability or respect or some other shit that would sound good in theory but didn't matter in practice.

"Get changed," he finally looked at Keshawn. "And don’t be fucking late for rehab, MP."

Keshawn pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, following Michael down the hallway toward the locker room. When they turned the corner, out of sight, Michael glanced back and then looked at Keshawn, that smirk spreading across his face.

…

Vic pulled the paper bag from the passenger seat, the smell of carne asada already seeping through. The park stretched out in front of him, dotted with families and kids running between play structures. He spotted Jessica near a picnic table covered in purple decorations, talking to another mother while keeping one eye on Yesenia, who was chasing after a boy with a foam sword.

He made his way over, weaving through clusters of parents who all seemed to know each other in that way that made him feel like he was crashing someone else's function. Jessica saw him approaching and her face lit up.

"You actually came back," she said, moving away from the other woman.

"The bar is in hell," Vic shook his head with a short laugh.

Jessica peered into the bag, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh my God, you're a lifesaver."

"Don’t say I never did nothing for you," Vic gestured toward the edge of the park where there were some benches away from the main party area.

Jessica was already walking that direction. "Let me just tell Andrea to watch Yesenia for a minute."

Vic waited while she jogged back to the table, saying something to a woman with blonde highlights before returning. They walked together to the benches, the noise of the party fading slightly behind them.

Vic pulled out the containers, handing one to Jessica along with a handful of napkins.

"This is so much better," Jessica said after her first bite, her eyes closing for a second. "Like, why is the food always so terrible? They know we have to eat too, right?"

"They don’t care about y’all," Vic said, biting into his own taco. "They ain’t tryna buy a bunch of food that kids are gonna waste anyway."

Jessica laughedy. "Facts. I swear, every party I go to, it's the same sad pizza, the same warm juice boxes, the same dry-ass cake."

"Don't forget the off-brand chips."

"Oh my God, yes," Jessica covered her mouth while she chewed. "And there's always that one mom who brings like, carrot sticks and hummus or some shit, thinking she's doing something."

"That's the worst," Vic shook his head. "Nobody wants your hummus."

Jessica nearly choked on her food.

Vic grinned, taking another bite. This was easy, comfortable in a way that reminded him of before everything got complicated. Before the pregnancy, before the arguments about who was responsible for what, before every conversation felt like a negotiation.

They ate in silence for a moment, the kind that didn't need to be filled. Yesenia's laugh carried over from the party, high and clear, and Vic's eyes automatically found her. She was on the swing now, the woman with the blonde highlights pushing her while another kid waited their turn.

"She's having a good time," Jessica said, following his gaze.

"Yeah," Vic said.

"She really likes it when you’re around," Jessica's voice softened. "I guess she’s going through her dad phase. At least that’s what I tell myself to not get jealous. 'When's Daddy coming?' 'Where's Daddy?' 'Can Daddy take me to the park?'"

Vic smiled. "For real?"

"Yeah, it’s annoying," Jessica teased. "You're doing good, Vic. Like, really good. I know I don't say it enough, but I see it."

Vic didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded, taking another bite of his taco even though his appetite had shifted into something else.

"These parties are so exhausting though," Jessica said after a moment, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "Like, I love seeing her play with other kids, but watching other people's kids run around screaming for two hours is not my idea of a good time."

"Facts," Vic said, grateful for the shift. "And there's always that one kid who's just out of control, knocking shit over, and the parents are just sitting there like nothing's happening."

"Oh my God, yes," Jessica pointed toward the party. "That little boy with the green shirt? He's been terrorizing everyone for the last hour. Pushed a girl off the slide earlier and his mom didn't even look up from her phone."

"That's wild," Vic shook his head. "If Yesenia did some shit like that, I'd be on her ass immediately."

"Same," Jessica agreed. "But some parents just don't care. They treat these parties like free babysitting."

"Which is why the food is always trash," Vic said. "Because they know people are just here to dump their kids and leave."

Jessica laughed again, the sound lighter this time. "You're not wrong. Half these parents probably didn't even want to come."

"Including you," Vic said, smirking.

"Including me," Jessica admitted. "But Yesenia wanted to come, so here we are."

"Here we are," Vic echoed, finishing his last taco.

…

Keshawn pushed through the front door, his bag dropping to the floor with a thud that echoed through the empty house. His shoulders ached, his head still pounded from whatever the fuck they'd been drinking for the last forty eight hours, and his eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them.

He didn't bother with the lights, just kicked off his shoes and made his way to the bedroom, the house quiet in a way that should have felt peaceful but instead felt like it was waiting for something. The bed welcomed him, the mattress giving way as he collapsed face-first into the pillows.

For a moment, he just lay there, breathing, his body finally still after days of constant movement. Atlanta. Magic City. The bottles. The women.

A smile crept across his face. He'd left that city and his phone hadn't blown up. No angry texts. No missed calls demanding explanations. No one asking where he was or what he was doing or why he hadn't checked in.

The smile faded as quickly as it came.

The house was too quiet. No TV playing in the background. No one humming in the kitchen. No sound of someone moving around, existing in the same space as him. Just silence, pressing in from all sides, making the house feel bigger than it was.

Keshawn rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The freedom he'd felt in Atlanta suddenly didn't feel like freedom at all.

He pushed himself up off the bed, his legs protesting. The bathroom light hurt his eyes as he flipped the switch, but he left it on anyway, stripping off his clothes and turning the water as hot as he could stand it. Steam filled the space quickly, fogging the mirror, erasing his reflection until he was just a shape moving through the mist.

The water hit his shoulders and he closed his eyes, letting it beat against his skin, washing away everything except the thought he was trying so hard not to think.

…

Yesenia's breathing had finally evened out, her small chest rising and falling in that rhythm that meant she was fully asleep. Vic stayed there for another minute, crouched beside her bed, making sure she wouldn't wake up the second he moved.

The hallway was dark except for the light spilling from Jessica's bedroom. Vic moved toward it, intending to say goodnight and get out, but stopped in the doorway when he found her already halfway through changing. She had her jeans off, standing there in an oversized t-shirt that hung to mid-thigh, a glass of wine in one hand while she scrolled through Netflix with the other.

"Don't judge me," Jessica said without looking at him, a smile in her voice.

"I'm not judging," Vic said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yes you are," she glanced over her shoulder. "I can feel your judgment from here."

Jessica turned back to the TV, settling on some reality show Vic didn't recognize. She dropped onto the bed, crossing her legs under her, taking a sip of wine. The silence stretched between them, comfortable in a way it hadn't been in years.

He knew he should leave. But his feet weren't moving toward the door.

"You can hang," Jessica said, patting the space next to her. "Unless you got somewhere to be."

He didn't. That was the problem. He didn't have anywhere to be, no one waiting for him, nothing pulling him back to his empty home except the quiet that would be there when he walked through the door.

Vic moved into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping enough distance that it didn't mean anything. The TV played, some argument about something that probably didn't matter. Jessica sipped her wine, her eyes on the screen but not really watching.

"This was nice today," she said after a while. "Having you there."

"Yeah," Vic agreed.

"I mean it," Jessica turned to look at him. "Not just for Yesenia. For me too."

Jessica turned back to the TV, taking another sip of wine, and let the moment pass without demanding anything from it.

They sat there for another twenty minutes, maybe longer. The show ended and another one started. Jessica finished her wine and set the glass on the nightstand. Vic's phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn't check it.

Finally, he pushed himself up from the bed. "I should head out."

"Yeah," Jessica said, standing too. "Thanks again. For today. For being cool about the mix-up."

She was standing close now, closer than she needed to be. Vic could smell her perfume, the same one she'd worn in college when going to bed, the same that would make her neck taste bitter but he didn’t mind.

"It's cool," he said.

"It's not cool," Jessica's voice was soft. "I know we’ve had our bullshit but you’ve been good, like really good."

The words sat between them, heavy with everything they weren't saying. Vic could see it in her eyes, the way they searched his face, the way her body angled toward him like she was waiting for something.

He smiled, small and genuine, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. The contact was brief, innocent, exactly what it needed to be and nothing more.

"Goodnight, Jess," he said, already moving toward the door.

[Captain Canada]

Vic almost slipped up and gave Yesenia a sibling. I see the plot.

[Soapy]

Vic almost slipped up and gave Yesenia a sibling. I see the plot.

that's how you would be moving?

[Soapy]