Page 52 of Suleem and Yahzi
“You’re kidding, right?”
She angled her head to the side and sent a “don’t be stupid” expression my way. “It’s cool though. You handled your shit today so nobody is going to give you grief about your connection to Leem and Kassir. If you were in here fucking up heads that would be a different story. Your chair would still have motion because they wouldn’t want to piss Leem off for bypassing you but the group chats about your subpar skills would be in heavy circulation.”
She was right so I didn’t even attempt to deny the privilege attached to being with Suleem. “But like I said, you did your thing; so it’s all good.”
I checked my phone and noticed a text notification from Suleem saying he was pulling up.
“You need me to do anything else?”
“Nope, I’m about to shut off the lights then I’m heading out. He here?”
“Yes.” I nodded and lifted from the chair, grabbing my crossbody. I shoved my money into the zippered pocket at the back and was on my way to the door.
“What time tomorrow?”
“We’re closed. These niggas are about to be fucked up and partying all night. It’s always like that after the tourney. You cool with twelve to four on Monday?”
I nodded when I reached the door. “Yeah, that works.”
“Bye, girl. I’ll see you at the courts. Let me go get sexy.”
Even though Suleem was attached to almost every move I made, he still gave me space to exist and find my own rhythm, which further confirmed the growth and maturity of the man I was getting to know now versus the one I left behind three years ago. As much as it hurt, we both needed to heal and grow individually so we could be better together.
Chapter 12
Suleem
“Run that shit, Riq. Run thatmuthafuckinshit,” I yelled right after Kove inbounded the ball to Smalls who pushed past half court then did a behind the back pass to Tariq. He caught it with one hand, dribbled to the free throw line, and was in the air on some Jordan shit. The rim snapped when his hand grabbed it after the ball passed through the net with a nasty ass dunk that had the crowd going crazy.
“Oh shit that was sweet.” Yoel grinned, bringing his fist to his mouth before he shook his head, displaying his top and bottom grills. “Them niggas gonna cry themselves to sleep tonight.”
Bedford was down by ten but it wasn’t just losing the game. Our guys were embarrassing the shit out of them. Nuts in faces each time they gripped the rim plus dropping threes from half court. Their expressions were tight as hell.
“Ralph needs to find some ballers or stop signing up for this shit,” Yoel said as he pulled a blunt from behind his ear and fired up.
“Give that nigga some credit. They made it to the final round.” I smirked and dropped my eyes to the bleachers below me where Yahzi was chilling with Niecy. I kept her up under me for the first two games but then Rebel and her girl pulled heraway. When Rebel dipped with her girl, heading to where the food trucks were set up, Niecy sat down next to her and they had been talking shit for the past twenty minutes, being D-Ville cheerleaders.
“Fuck that shit. Only reason ol’ boy hit that last minute three that got them to the final round was so they could get their asses handed to them by us,” Yoel said through a cloud of smoke, grinning lazily. He had been smoking since he pulled up right before the first game. I was surprised he was still conscious and upright.
“I mean, shit, they made it though,” I said just before Yoel jumped up and almost dropped his blunt yelling when Kove dropped one that was all net from the three point line at the opposite end of the court.
“That’s my muthafucking blood. Do that shit, Big Kove.”
When several of Bedford’s people glared our way, he kept talking shit. “The fuck y’all looking at?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Sit your high ass down before we have to break this peace treaty because you got them in their feelings.”
He leaned back, dropping his elbows on the row behind us. “Them bitches ain’t gonna do shit.”
Even though all the gangs mutually agreed that the end of summer games were neutral zones, our entire team was strapped with the understanding that egos flared when muthafuckers pride was challenged. In the past seven years we had been hosting the Ball is Lyfe seasonal streetball tournaments, the worst conflict we ever had to deal with were a few arguments and fist fights. Bedford was for sure bitchmade niggas but they weren’t crossing lines with kids. Families were out here thick because we had kids 3V3 games happening on the courts near the playground.
I glanced at the clock on the scorer’s table realizing the last game was about to wrap. The final thirty seconds were counting down. My gaze found Yahzi hugging Niecy before she started making her way back to me. That thick ass body had my dick bricked as she climbed the bleachers and stepped between my legs but I pulled her down into my lap to catch the last play. Smalls inbounded the ball to Kove who dribbled to half court and tossed one up to Tariq who slammed that shit two seconds before the buzzer.
“Game, nigga,” Yoel yelled and pointed across the court to where Bedford was posted up. Kove turned at the sound of his brother’s voice and chuckled before tossing his chin. Yoel extended a closed fist toward me. “I’m out, fam. Let me go get my money before that line gets out of control.”
I tapped Yahzi’s thigh for her to get up and we made our way down the bleachers. I dropped my arm around her shoulders, tucking her at my side while we walked to the tent set up to take bets. Mr. Dave was an OG who handled all the bets for the game and pretty much everything in the hood. His pops used to run numbers back in the day so it was naturally his thing. He worked the tent with his two daughters taking the money and doing payouts. Our people stood guard to make sure they didn’t have any issues.
When I walked up, Mr. Dave pointed to the duffle at his feet and motioned to his youngest daughter. “That’s his.”
