Page 7 of Love & Streetball

For a moment, there was silence. Then he cursed under his breath. “Goddammit, Kane! What the hell are you doing over there? That’s not the kind of place⁠—”

I cut him off again. “Not the kind of place for people like us, right?”

“You know what I mean,” he snapped. “You don’t belong there.”

Slim stopped, glancing back just as I replied, “Maybe I do.”

“Kane—”

“I’ll be home later,” I interrupted, and hung up before he could say another word. My heart was beating way too fast. Not from fear, but from frustration. The way he acted like money made him higher than others who were less fortunate had me fired up. He acted like I was supposed to stay tucked behind the high metal gates and manicured lawns with the waterfalls.

I powered my phone down, trying to save what little battery I had left and avoid another interruption. Slim’s expression was unreadable under the dim streetlight.

“Go home to your castle, Kane,” she murmured.

“Don’t do that, Slim.” I ran my fingers through my curly top. “I’m nothing like him.”

Her tired eyes darted around. I realized we’d made it to a staircase. There were niggas out, smoking weed and shooting dice. Every single one of them now had their eyes on us…or maybe they were all just on me.

“You need to get home, Kane. At this time of night, this ain’t the place for you,” Slim hissed lowly. “You see,” she licked her juicy lips, and I almost got lost in them. “Those niggas are zooming in on your clothes and shoes. They can smell money on rich niggas like you. You need to go.”

I stuffed my hands in my letterman’s pockets, feeling the pocketknife I carried.

“I’ll head out, but can I have your number?” I asked.

“No. Don’t look over at them anymore. Do not make eye contact.”

I swallowed.

“Gah damn, you still sniffing behind, Slim,” Vani’s voice rang out. He walked over smelling like a whole pound of weed.

“Vani, see him out,” Slim told him, low enough so those niggas couldn’t hear her.

Vani nodded, understanding without more context.

I wasn’t scared, but if Slim knew some shit I didn’t know in this moment, I would oblige and leave. This wouldn’t be the last time she saw me, though.

3

The water wasn’t getting hot, so I took a quick, cold shower. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last time. It was something you just got used to living in Love Heights projects.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since school lunch, and that was only a peanut butter jelly sandwich. I cruised to the kitchen with my phone in my hand because I knew my mama would call any minute now, wanting to know how the game had gone.

The kitchen light flickered, causing small roaches to scatter. Opening a counter, I pulled out the Raid to spray them. The kitchen was clean, the whole apartment was, but it didn’t matter. Roaches still found their way around. I swung open the fridge door and pulled out hot dog wieners. Like I figured, my phone rang as I was placing the wieners in the oven.

“Hey, Mama,” I answered, pulling the almost empty bag of shredded cheese and mustard out the fridge.

“How many points did you score, Scottie?” she asked right off.

“Twenty-six,” I answered proudly, smiling hard with my chest out like she could see me.

I heard mama snapping her fingers, probably doing a little dance. “Ayyye aye, that’s my girl. That’s my Lisa Leslie.”

I laughed, shaking my head even though the warmth spread through my chest. Mama always hyped me up like I was in the WNBA already.

“Mama, Lisa Leslie is crazy tall.”

“You’re not short, baby, and you’re crazy skilled,” she shot back. “It don’t matter if you five-five or six-five, you still the baddest on that court. I know I don’t be there to watch you, but I still know that for a fact.”