Page 39 of Kassir and Rebel
“Let’s go, man,” I say and Kassan stands so we can leave.
Before heading to the park, we stop downstairs so Kassan can see Miss Chandra and grab a few snacks from the store. For the first time in years, the drink cooler and her shelves are almost empty. She’s really closing shop. It’s going to be so different notbeing able to stop down here instead of driving to a convenience store.
“This many people come to practice?” Rebel asks as soon as I pull into the parking lot.
“Shit, yeah. Every nigga in D-Ville has money on this game. You know how we do. They out here to check on their investments.”
“Then, hell, let me bet a hundred dollars on the game. How much can I win?” she asks.
“Man, keep your pennies. I already have us covered.”
“I may want my own money,” she says while grinning.
“And Riq gon’ win too. Watch,” Kassan adds.
“He better win,” I state before killing the engine.
After getting out, I open the door for Kassan and Rebel and the three of us trek to the bleachers. Rebel spots her homegirl so she walks over to her and sits. Kassan walks over with me to the court. Riq, Yaakov, and the other players are shooting and running the ball. Although there are kid games on the other courts, Kassan thinks he’s one of the players, so he bypasses them and walks out there with Riq and I head over to holla at Jay-Roc.
“How they looking?” I ask after dapping him up.
“They looking like champs. Them boys hungry. We ain’t leaving here without that trophy on Saturday,” he assures me.
A win is a win for everybody. Jay-Roc wins ten grand as the coach and each player gets paid for each round they advance. We’ve been running the games and tournament for seven years and Jay-Roc has been here with us since the beginning. They are held each year here at Highland Park. It’s neutral territory and DP nor the bitch ass Bedford Boys bring static here. Ball is Lyfe Tournaments run the games, and by Friday night, they will have all the bleachers, coaches and player benches, portable restrooms, and vendor stations set up for Saturday.
“I want the trophy and my money.”
“Shit. Me too.” He nods toward the court. “Looks like lil man ready for the team too,” he says about Kassan.
“He’ll be out there next year with Dre; he’s so ready too,” I say. Dre is DP too and he coaches the D-Ville AAU team. “Let’s go, Kassan,” I say, waving him over to me. After throwing the ball back to Riq, he runs over to me.
“You saw me, Daddy?” he asks, damn near out of breath.
“Yeah. I saw you. You did good. You ready to go sit over there with Rebel?”
Although his face says he definitely doesn’t want to leave the court, he nods and we walk over to the bleachers. We climb up and join Rebel. He beats me sitting next to her. She’s deep in convo with her girl, but turns to Kassan as soon as he’s seated.
“I saw you out there,” she gushes.
“I told you I can play,” he says.
“You sure did.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a packet of wipes. She hands him one and he cleans his hands. Then she gives him his bag of sour gummy worms. She holds up the pack of wipes to me but I shake my head. I’m straight. Practice is officially starting and I’m focused on them.
About twenty minutes into practice, I scan the packed park and spot Leem pulling up. Although he was going to his shop today, I knew he would roll up before practice was over. Jay-Roc yells something and I turn my head back toward the court to see what’s up. I swear it’s only a few minutes but when I glance back to Leem, I see him with Mano.
The nigga must’ve pulled up.
The look on my bruh’s face is tight so I get up and I’m off the bleachers before I can blink. I hear Rebel call after me but I keep going. Shit looks heated as hell, and as soon as I’m in the parking lot, I hear that muthafucka Mano talking with too muchdamn bass in his voice. I get over to them just in time. Leem is reaching into the small of his back to grab his piece. Before he can pull it out, I stall on Mano, knocking that nigga dead in his shit. Mano stumbles back and it’s on after that. In a flash, Leem and I are on his ass. Blow for blow, we give him the ass whooping he’s been begging for. Right before I stomp the shit out of him, I feel someone hook their arms into mine and jerk me back.
“Kassir! Bruh! Chill,” Riq grits. “Bruh, chill the fuck out,” he repeats and I yank free from him then turn to face him. “Ay,” he yells while holding his hands up in defense. “It’s a crowd and ol’ girl is staring a hole into you.”
I glare at him for a minute then look back at Mano. Nigga is bleeding and curled up on the ground. I also see Kove has Leem hemmed up. When I realize Kove and Riq are here, I look back at the court. Practice is obviously over and most people have started to leave, even Rebel.
Fuck! Rebel!
She’s off the bleachers and storming toward my ride. Her hand is linked with Kassan and he’s walking fast, trying to keep up with her extra fast strides.
