Page 77 of Love & Streetball

Downstairs was where the house really showed my money. There was a private movie theater, full gym, bar, game room, indoor basketball court, and a sneaker room protected by fingerprint access. Outside, an infinity pool stretched toward the skyline beside a sunken firepit, covered patio, outdoor kitchen, and a half-court painted in our team’s colors—red and white.

It’s been three years, and both me and Scottie were still in Heartville. I had two championship rings and she had one, despite making it to the championship. Those two years the Heartville Hornets lost, I had to deal with the darkness Slim went in for a couple of weeks. Balling meant so much to her, sometimes she’d forget it was just a game, and that you win some to lose some. You couldn’t tell Slim that, though. Especially when she was in a dark mood.

Right now, she was swimming in the pool, doing laps for cardio. Slim had been out there for almost an hour, cutting through the water like she had something chasing her. Every time she reached the edge, she flipped beneath the surface and pushed off again without stopping. Her long locs were tied into a thick bun on top of her head, and the red sports swimsuit she wore hugged every curve she had gained over the last three years. She was a woman now at twenty-one.

I stood inside the kitchen watching her through the glass doors with a bottle of water in my hand. She had already worked out in the gym that morning, ran drills on the court, and watched film from our last game. Now she was swimming like the season started tomorrow instead of being four months away.

I slid the glass door open. “How many laps you doing?”

Slim didn’t answer. She reached the other side, turned underwater, and came back toward me.

“Scottie.”

She finally stopped at the edge closest to me. Her chest rose and fell as she pushed her goggles onto her forehead.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I stopped counting.”

“That mean too many.” I crouched beside the pool and held the water toward her. “Get out.”

“Baaaaby,” she groaned, pouting. My dick bricked up when it shouldn’t have.

I dragged my eyes away from her. “That shit ain’t gon’ work. Get out the pool.”

The second she stood in front of me, I regretted ordering her out. Water ran down her smooth brown skin, disappearing between her breasts before traveling over her stomach. Slim reached for the towel lying across the lounge chair, but I snatched it before she could. She let me dry her off.

“You working the fuck out of yourself,” I told her, shaking my head in disapproval.

Slim spun around, taking the towel from me. “I’m about to shower.”

She stormed away. She hated these type of conversations, but they were needed. Her mama was on her ass too about overworking herself, but Slim was so hardheaded, she didn’t give a fuck.

I followed in the path she’d left in, and closed the sliding door behind me, navigating to our bedroom where I had left the TV on a baseball game. Removing my slides, sat down on the bed and took a call from my mama.

“Hey son,” she said before I could greet her. The tone in her voice had my sitting up straight and a chill running down my spine.

“Mama…everything good?” I quizzed. I wave of something I couldn’t catch came over me. It had my whole body going limp.

“No. No, everything is not. Your father had a heart attack.”

She began to cry uncontrollably as I sat there with the phone hanging from my hand. Her crying told me what I already knew. He was gone.

The bathroom door opened, and Slim walked out wearing a sports bra and lavender colored Nike shorts.

“Kane? What’s wrong?” she whispered, coming closer to me. Her eyes darted to the phone and she took it out of my hand slowly. When she saw it was my mom, Slim put it on speaker.

“Mrs. Stone?” Slim’s voice was shaky.

“My dad had a heart attack,” I mumbled because mama was so distraught, she couldn’t even speak right now.

Slim gasped. Her eyes were stretched. Slowly, she covered her mouth.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered.

I took the phone from her. “I’ll be there in two hours, Ma.”