Saul moved across the living room carpet on his knees, his hands pulling at the fabric of his sweatpants where they bunched against the floor, Angel two steps behind him with his arms out and his mouth open in a grin.
He let the boy close the gap. Angel’s hands hit his back and Saul pitched forward, dropping to one side, his shoulder hitting the carpet, his body going loose. Angel climbed onto him, one knee digging into his ribs, both hands pressing down on his chest, the boy’s weight barely enough to register.
“Otavez, otavez, papa!“
Saul laughed. He grabbed the boy under his arms and lifted him off, setting him back on the carpet a few feet away, and got back onto his knees. Angel was already running at him, his steps heavy and uneven on the carpet, his arms pumping.
Ava walked into the room pulling a hoodie over her head, her face disappearing into the fabric for a beat before it came through the neck hole, her hair catching against the cotton and falling across one eye. She pushed it back with her fingers and tugged the hem down over her hips.
Saul looked up at her from the floor. “Where you going?“
“Andrew’s. I told you the other day. Me, Adele, Corinne and Caroline are going over there to watch the LSU game.“
“I don’t remember you telling me that.“
“Well, I did, because I asked if you wanted to go, too, and you said no because you were pouting about something.“
Angel ran into Saul’s side again, his hands gripping at the front of Saul’s shirt, pulling the fabric. Saul steadied him with one hand on his back, his eyes still on Ava.
“Who all gonna be over there besides y’all?“
“I don’t know other than me, Adele, Corinne and Caroline. Whoever Andrew asks to come over, I guess.“
“You aren’t trying to stay here and kick it with me and Angelito?“
Ava’s mouth pressed flat. “That’s low.“
“What?“
“Trying to use our son to guilt me into doing something. I don’t know who you’ve been listening to that suddenly has you not trusting me, but maybe you should stop before you say or do something you can’t take back.“
Saul held a hand up. “Alright, my bad. I shouldn’t have said that.“
Ava looked at him for a beat, her jaw set, her eyes reading his face. Then her shoulders dropped a fraction and she let the air out through her nose.
Saul tapped Angel on his back. The boy’s head was turned toward the French doors, his attention caught by something in the backyard, his fingers still gripping Saul’s shirt. He turned around when Saul tapped him.
“Go give mommy a kiss bye, mijo.“
Angel let go of the shirt and toddle-ran across the carpet to Ava, his arms swinging, his feet slapping the floor. He crashed into her legs, his face pressing into her thigh. Ava kneeled down and cupped his face with both hands. She pressed her lips to his forehead.
“Be good for daddy while I’m gone, baby.“
Angel nodded, his chin moving against her palms. Then he pulled free and ran back to Saul, throwing himself over Saul’s legs, his body folding across the tops of Saul’s thighs. A giggle came out of him, high and loose, his face turned sideways against the carpet.
Ava straightened. “I’m gonna call you on my way back. See if you need me to stop and pick up anything.“
“Alright, be careful driving there.“
Ava nodded, her keys already in her hand. She turned and walked down the hall toward the front door. The door opened, the cold pressing in for a beat before it pulled shut.
Saul sat there on the carpet with Angel draped across his legs, the boy’s breathing still fast from running. The car turned over outside, the engine catching and holding, and the idle pulled away down the driveway until it was gone.
He ran his hand over Angel’s hair, his palm smoothing the strands flat against the boy’s head. His body was warm against his legs, his chest rising and falling, one hand gripping the hem of Saul’s sweatpants at the knee.
“¿Quieres un dulce, mijo?“
Angel nodded against his legs, his cheek pressing into the carpet. His eyes were on the French doors again, tracking something in the yard.
“Go get my phone off my bed.“
Angel pushed himself up off Saul’s legs and got to his feet. He turned and ran down the hall, his footsteps landing heavy on the carpet. Saul could hear the bedroom door push open, then nothing for a few seconds, then the footsteps coming back, faster.
Angel came around the corner with Saul’s phone clutched in both hands, the screen dark, the case too wide for his grip. He crossed the carpet and held it out with both arms extended, the phone wobbling between his fingers.
Saul took it from him. He pressed the side button and the screen lit up, the lock screen clearing under his thumb. He tapped into the messages. The list of threads filled the screen, names and previews stacked down the page. He hit the plus icon at the top. The cursor blinked in the search field. He typed an F. The contact list filtered, names dropping away until the ones starting with F sat in a short column. Francesca’s name was third from the top, the number underneath it in gray.
His thumb hovered over her name. The screen held the light against his face, the glow catching his chin and the bridge of his nose. Angel’s hand found his knee.
“Dulce now, papa?“
Saul looked down at him. Angel stood at his leg with his hands open, his face tilted up, his eyes wide. He set the phone on the carpet beside his leg and pushed himself to his feet, his knees cracking in the stillness of the house.
“Let’s go see what they got in here.“
~~~
Mireya leaned back on Sena’s bed with her weight on her elbows, her legs crossed at the knee. Sena knelt with a laundry basket between her knees, pulling folded clothes from inside and sorting them into two piles on the floor, one pile for the dresser and one pile still in the bag she’d brought from Mireya’s.
“I still don’t know why you just don’t leave that shit at my house.“
Sena pulled a shirt from the basket and shook it open, checking the front, then folded it in thirds against her thigh. She set it on the pile closest to the dresser. “I pay to live here.“
“You can stop paying to live here and just live with me.“
Sena looked over her shoulder at Mireya. Her hands stayed on the shirt she’d just set down, her fingers pressing the fold flat. “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to be talking about us living together?“
Mireya shook her head. “Caine basically started living at Maria’s part-time as soon as I got pregnant.“
Sena turned back to the basket. She reached in and pulled out a pair of leggings, shook them straight, and rolled them from the waistband down, her thumbs tucking the fabric tight as she went. “That’s not exactly the situation I think we should be trying to replicate.“
Mireya shrugged. “Isn’t moving too fast what lesbians do? You don’t even have to go buy a U-Haul and drive across the country. I just live across town.“
Sena snorted a laugh. Her head dipped forward and her shoulders shook once before she straightened.
Mireya smiled. “And think of all the money you’ll save.“
Sena reached into the basket again, her elbow brushing the rim. “Because your daughters’ father pays for everything.“
“You not supposed to look gift horses in the mouth, baby.“
Sena glanced back over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifting. She shook her head and turned back to the basket.
“I just don’t want—“
“To tie yourself to me.“
Sena sighed. She set the shirt she was holding onto the pile beside her knee and turned more fully toward the bed, her weight shifting back onto her heels, her hands settling on her thighs. “No. To make you think I’m doing things because I’m taking advantage of your situation. I can afford this apartment, especially with Priya and Cassidy. And it gives me somewhere to go to if we need space.“
Mireya held her hands up off the mattress. “Alright. I forgot that you got that therapy speak to fall back on.“
Sena shook her head. “You go, too.“
Mireya laughed, her chin tipping back. She let her hands drop back to the bed, her elbows resettling against the sheets.
Sena’s phone vibrated on the floor next to her knee. The screen lit up, the glow catching the carpet fibers around it. Mireya leaned up off her elbows to look down past Sena’s hip at the screen. Alex’s name sat at the top of the notification, and beneath it a line of text asking where Sena was.
Sena looked over and reached down. She flipped the phone face down against the carpet, the case tapping the floor.
“You not going to answer that?“
Sena’s fingers spread across the back of the case. “It can wait.“
“You should answer it.“
“It can wait.“
Mireya watched the line of Sena’s shoulders, the fabric of her shirt pulling across her back. Sena’s hands found the laundry again, her fingers working the hem of a folded shirt, pressing the crease flat, but the rhythm from before was gone.
“I don’t care about what you did.“
Sena’s body went rigid. The shirt she’d been reaching for hung in the air between the basket and the pile, her fingers locked around the fabric.
Mireya tilted her head. “Do you want to keep fucking her?“
Sena’s voice came low, the words landing one at a time. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.“
“That’s not what I asked you, baby.“
Sena shook her head, her chin barely moving. “No.“
“Come here.“
Sena set the shirt down on the pile. She pressed her hands flat against the carpet and pushed herself to her feet. She crossed the two steps to the bed and sat down next to Mireya, the mattress dipping under her weight. Her hands came to rest on her thighs. Her eyes stayed forward, fixed on the blinds across the room.
Mireya brought her hand up and ran it over Sena’s hair, her palm smoothing the strands back from her temple, slow, her fingers trailing down past her ear to the line of her jaw. Her hand stilled, her fingertips resting against the bone beneath Sena’s skin, and turned Sena’s face toward hers.
“Alex is beneath me. I won’t get jealous over a bitch who can’t compete with me. And definitely not a bitch who can’t take you from me. Just tell me next time.“
Sena stared at her. Her eyes moved across Mireya’s face, from her mouth to her eyes.
“There won’t be a next time.“
Mireya smiled. “Okay, baby.“
~~~
Jill Babin pushed Roussel’s office door open and stepped through. Roussel was leaning toward his computer, his fingers moving across the keyboard, pulling information off a stack of papers at his elbow and entering it line by line. His eyes stayed on the screen when she entered.
Jill crossed the room and sat in the chair across from his desk, setting her purse on the floor next to her foot.
“Thought you didn’t work the weekend,” Roussel said.
“I don’t call this working. More like a social visit.“
Roussel’s fingers kept moving on the keys, his eyes on the screen. “You know the last thing I want from you is a social visit. Especially coming straight from home, I’m guessing. I can smell the chicken and watermelon all on you.“
Jill drew a breath through her nose and let it settle behind her ribs. She let the air come back out slow, her hands resting flat against the tops of her thighs.
“You been keeping up with college football?“
Roussel looked over at her, his hands going still on the keyboard for the first time since she’d walked in. “I’m a man, ain’t I? Of course, I have.“
“So, you’ve seen everyone’s star this season, I take it.“
Roussel’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean?“
“I thought you said you’ve been keeping up with it.“
Roussel pushed back from the keyboard, the chair rolling an inch on the plastic mat beneath it. His hand came off the desk and dropped to the armrest. The stack of papers beside him shifted when his elbow caught the edge, the top form sliding a quarter inch before it stopped. “I’m not in the mood for these games, woman. Just tell me what you’re trying to say so we can get this conversation over with and I can go on home.“
Jill reached down to the purse at her foot and pulled her phone out. She tapped the screen awake with her thumb, opened the browser, and typed the URL into the address bar. The page loaded, the red ESPN banner filling the top of the screen, and below it the headline ran in bold across the width of the page. She set the phone flat on the desk between them and turned it with two fingers so the screen faced Roussel.
USC improves to 11-0 after 44-7 demolition of UCLA, Guerra strengthens Heisman case.
Roussel looked at the phone on the desk between them. His eyes moved across the headline once, slow, then came back to the beginning and read it again. His jaw shifted once behind his closed lips. A short laugh pushed through his nose.
“You’re the one that couldn’t keep him from going to Georgia in the first place. Should’ve locked that nigger up when you had the chance instead of cutting a deal because you like to share beds with them.“
Jill’s eyes held on his face. Her hands stayed flat on her thighs, her fingers still.
“You should go visit with a Times-Pic reporter and let them know about who they’re putting on the front page of ESPN.“
Roussel leaned back in his chair, the springs creaking under his weight. “I’m just a probation officer. If you want something like that done, you should go do it yourself. You’re not passing the buck off to me for this to blow up to save your political career.“
“I don’t feel that strongly about it.“
Roussel’s chin lifted. He laced his fingers together across his stomach, his thumbs resting against each other. “I sent four of them back to prison this week.“ He unlaced one hand and pointed at the phone on the desk, his index finger extended, the knuckle white where he straightened it. “I’m not losing any sleep over this one you let get away.“
Jill looked at the phone where his finger pointed, then back at his face. “There is a way to couch this so it doesn’t blow up in anyone’s face.“
Roussel’s hand dropped back to his stomach. “I’m sure you have contacts over there. Go give them the story.“
Jill shook her head. She reached across the desk and picked up the phone, the screen still lit with the headline and the photo beneath it and dropped it back into her purse. The clasp on the bag snapped shut under her thumb.
“Remember this when he gets drafted in April and ends up back here in New Orleans playing for the fucking Saints.“
She pushed herself out of the chair and walked out. Her footsteps crossed the tile and faded down the hall.
Roussel looked at the open doorway for a beat. Then he shook his head and turned back to his desk. His fingers found the keyboard and his eyes found the next line on the page in front of him.
~~~
Ramon tilted the beer back and drank the last of it before he set the bottle between his thigh and the arm of the chair. Nikki sat with her legs pulled up beside her in the cushion, her shoulder against his arm, her phone on the armrest. Her perfume sat in the air between them, something sweet that mixed with the weed smoke still hanging in the room from the blunt they’d finished an hour ago.
Across the room, Tyree had the couch with Anisa tucked into the far end, her feet up on the cushion between them, her toes pointed toward his thigh. Carla sat in the other armchair with her hands around a cup, her legs crossed at the ankle, her body angled toward the TV on the wall.
Tyree leaned over toward Anisa, closing the distance between them on the couch, his arm along the back of the cushion behind her head.
“So, you gonna let me and my niggas hit or what?“
Nikki’s head turned from Tyree to Ramon, her eyebrows lifting. “I ain’t know that’s the type of time y’all was on.“
Ramon shrugged. He reached for the fresh bottle on the side table, twisted the cap off and took a swig. “Ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have no. We all friends in here.“
“Exactly. All friends in here.“
Anisa pulled her feet closer to her body on the cushion, her toes curling against the fabric. “Y’all gonna have to get some expensive liquor in here if you think we about to do that shit.“
“The corner store right down the street, love.“
Carla’s cup came down to her knee. “We ain’t about to do that. You better call some white bitches if that’s what you want.“
Ramon looked at her. “That’s what you ain’t about to do. You ain’t gotta be mad just because you solo over there. We can call a potna or two over for you, too.“
Carla’s eyes cut to him. She brought the cup back to her mouth and drank, her throat working once before she set it on the arm of the chair.
Nikki shifted against his arm, her chin tipping up. “Fuck no. Y’all niggas get too wild when it’s too many of y’all.“
“Facts.“ Anisa nodded, her hand resting on top of her knee, her fingers drumming once against the fabric of her jeans. “We was kicking it with some niggas the last week that was doing way too much.“
Tyree leaned back into the cushion, his arm still stretched along the top behind Anisa’s head. “We ain’t them though.“
Carla’s eyes moved between Tyree and Ramon, her mouth pulling flat. “Y’all just like them. Hood niggas. Probably got the work under the couch just like them.“
Ramon looked at Nikki, his head turning on the cushion. “Do I look like a hood nigga to you?“
Nikki laughed, her hand pressing against her mouth for a beat before it dropped back to her thigh. “Yep. You sneaky with it. Like ol’ boy. What was his name?“
“Scottie.“
Nikki snapped her fingers, the pop cutting through the room. “That was it.“
Tyree’s eyebrow lifted. His arm came off the back of the couch and his weight shifted forward, his elbows finding his knees. “Y’all fucking with 110?“
Carla looked at him, her face blank. “We ain’t affiliated. We don’t know what that mean.“
Tyree waved the comment off with one hand, his fingers flicking sideways in the air. He turned back to Anisa. “Who was all these niggas there?“
“It was like five or six of them. Scottie, Shad.“
Nikki sucked her teeth. “This nigga with a dumb ass name.“
“Yola.“
Ramon’s eyes moved off Nikki and found Tyree across the room. Anisa was looking at Nikki, Carla at her cup, Nikki still half-smiling from the name. Then Tyree turned back to Anisa, his face loosening.
“And a nigga name Ant?“
Anisa shook her head, her chin moving once to each side. “Wasn’t no Ant. Had two twins. One called Rome.“
“And Ro.“
Ramon tapped his finger against the neck of the fresh bottle. “They say where they was from?“
Carla let her head fall back against the chair, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “We ain’t no detectives.“
Ramon sucked his teeth, the sound sharp and flat, cutting through the low hum of the TV. “Y’all was fucking them, though.“
Anisa’s jaw shifted. She looked at Nikki, then back at Ramon, her hand pressing flat against her knee. “They just said down the bayou.“
Tyree’s voice came low, his eyes on Anisa’s face. “You got they info?“
~~~
Caine pushed through the front door of the penthouse with Autumn on his back, her legs locked around his waist and one arm hooked over his shoulder, the other hand holding her heels by the straps, the shoes swinging against his chest with each step. Her weight sat high on his spine, her chin near his ear, her breath warm and sharp with tequila against the side of his neck.
He tossed his keys onto the counter as he passed it, the metal sliding across the quartz and stopping against the base of the espresso machine. “You gonna get your fucking ass down now?“
“This doesn’t look like your bedroom to me. Don’t tell me you’re getting tired.“
“Some of us played a whole fucking football game today.“
Autumn laughed, the sound landing against the back of his neck, her body shaking against his spine. Her arm tightened around his shoulder, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt at the collar. “That was hours ago, nigga. You don’t want me to fall down and hurt myself, do you?“
Caine shook his head as he crossed the living room and turned down the hall toward the bedroom, her weight shifting with each step, her heels tapping against his chest where her hand swung them. “Ain’t nobody told you to try to go shot for shot with all your homegirls. You could’ve slowed your ass down.“
Autumn rolled her eyes, her chin lifting off his shoulder. “That was your niggas hyping them up with all that ’it’s a movie’ shit. Y’all beat some bum ass niggas. They were doing too much.“
Caine laughed. “That shit a fucking rivalry whether they good or not.“
He tapped the side of her foot with his hand. She loosened her legs from around his waist and set her feet down on the floor. She stepped back, her weight settling onto her toes before her heels touched down, the shoes still dangling from her fingers.
Caine turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress giving under his weight. He reached for her hand and turned her so her back faced him, his fingers finding the zipper at the small of her back. He pulled it down in one motion, the teeth separating under his thumb, the fabric loosening across her ribs. He slipped the dress off her shoulders, the straps falling down her arms, the material pooling for a beat at her elbows before she let it drop past her hips to the floor.
She turned around and straddled his lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs, her hands coming up to his head. Her fingers pushed into his dreads, working through the roots, her nails dragging light against his scalp.
“You know, you’re not so bad once you look past all that weird shit you be doing.“
Caine snorted a laugh, his hands settling on her hips, his thumbs above the waistband of her thong. “Is that your way of saying you catching feelings?“
Autumn rolled her eyes, her fingers still moving through his hair, working a loc between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it once before letting it fall back against the others. “Don’t make me sound all sappy. I said what I said.“
“I heard what you said but it’s cool if you feeling me more than you thought you was gonna. I been told I’m an aphrodisiac.“
Autumn laughed, her head tilting back, the line of her throat catching the light from the windows for a moment, the chain sliding against her skin before she brought her eyes back level with his. “That’s not how that shit works.“
“Yeah it is. Whenever I’m around chicks,“ he snapped his fingers, the sound sharp between them, “they get wet. Ain’t even gotta say anything.“
Autumn’s mouth pulled sideways. “I should consider all of that cheating then. You’re out here walking around making people’s grandmas’ pussies wet?“
Caine shrugged. “Stopping menopause and everything.“
“You’re so fucking stupid.“
“A man of many talents.“
Autumn leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was short, her lips warm, the taste of tequila sitting between them. She pulled back an inch, her eyes dropping to his mouth, then leaned in again and kissed him slower, her fingers tightening in his dreads, her weight shifting forward on his lap until her chest pressed flat against his. She pulled back and held there, her forehead close to his, her breath landing warm on his chin.
“I do like this, though.“
Caine smiled. His hands moved from her hips, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her thong at both sides, pushing the fabric down as he stood in one motion, lifting her off the bed, her legs wrapping back around his waist. She yelped, the sound catching in her throat before it broke into a laugh, her arms tightening around his neck as he carried her to the bathroom.
How did she gaslight anyone in that chapter? 
We was cooking them boys.
