“I’m good,” I replied with a smirk. “You’re getting out, stay out.”
“Am--”
“Sunshine,” I interrupted her. “This shit ain’t up for discussion. Grant already knows I’ll be on his payroll for a while. I ain’t stuck, but I’m locked in for a minute.”
“I want more for you,” Yale said, shaking her head. “I want you to want more for yourself.”
“I want a lot of shit I’ll never get,” I said, looking at her. Yale was focused on her food, not me, which I appreciated. “Just chill, don’t trip off it.”
“Am--”
“Sunshine,” I cut Yale off before she started with her shit about me needing to want more out of my life, and ended up crying. Yale wasn’t a crybaby, but she did understand her emotions. You always knew how she felt because she wore her emotions like a badge of honor. Happy, sad, or indifferent, it was always there, on display. Most people saw it as a weakness, but I didn’t. It was one of her strengths, and I respected the shit out of her for it. “This ain’t up for discussion. I’m racing, then you’re out. No strings attached. I got it from here.”
“Fine,” Yale sighed. She wasn’t upset, but I could tell from the way that her brows damn near touched each other that she was annoyed. She stood, grabbed her bag from the table, and went back to the kitchen. I watched her leave the room, head up, shoulder back, and a sexy ass sway of her hips.
“What are you mad about, Sunshine?” I called out. Yale came from the kitchen with a napkin in her hand and a mug on her face.
“Because I want you to want more,” she replied, then crossed her arms. “You think I don’t hear you when you talk about your future? You love the thought of being a doctor, but it scares you to allow yourself even to think you’ll succeed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, shaking my head. A nigga like me wasn’t supposed to get out of the hood, go to college, shit, graduate, and be in med school. I was supposed to be in jail or dead.
“Amethyst,” she called out, and I looked up at her. Her eyes softened, and I knew that whatever she was about to say was going to have my ass standing in the shower later, thinking over my life decisions and asking God what I did for him to ever think I deserved someone so pure in my life. “What scares you?”
“What?” I chuckled, not understanding where this conversation was going.
“What scares you?” she repeated, and I shrugged. A bunch of shit scared me, but I’d never admit it out loud. “I’m scared of thunderstorms.” She dropped her arms and patted her thick ass thighs. I knew she was scared of them; she’d spent plenty of nights in my bed over the years that I’d known her because she was afraid. I loved them, though, because I knew that when she came over those nights, I got to hold her in my arms, and even though she was scared, she trusted me to protect her. “I’m scared of spiders and walking sticks.” Her face twisted, and I smirked. “And I’m scared I’ll lose you.” Again, her eyes softened, but this time they filled with tears. “That you’ll go steal a car from the wrong person and will get arrested or worse, shot and killed. That I’ll be alone in this world without my best friend because you were too stubborn to realize — or admit, I’m not sure which yet —that this life isn’t for us anymore. That our late nights of stealing and racing are coming to an end.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid that I won’t see you walk into your first day as a doctor. That I won’t be able to make you take that embarrassing ass first day of work picture that I need.”
“Yale--”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Amethyst,” she cut me off and shook her head. “That I won't design the engagement ring for your future wife or get to see my future God kids because you won’t be around to do those things.”
“Damn, you marrying a nigga off already?” I chuckled and tried to break the tension in the room.
“No, Amethyst,” she laughed. “I’m saying I won’t get those things because you won’t let the street life go.”
I pushed off the couch and approached her. “You’re making it seem like I’m in the streets selling drugs. I’m just stealing cars. What’s the worst that could happen?” I wrapped my arms around her and stared down at her.
“You’d lose everything, Amethyst, that’s the worst thing that could happen,” she answered, then rested her chin on my chest and looked up at me. “Then I’ll be alone, sad, heartbroken, and I’d never forgive you.”
“Alright, man,” I said, nodding. “This is my last race, after this. I’m out.” Yale smiled up at me, and I knew that my ass was gonna try my hardest to keep my word to her. I needed to talk to my brothers about getting a loan.
***
“That girl got you wrapped around her finger,” my brother, Pyrite, laughed as he watched his team practice. He was getting the NBA's first expansion team in almost 10 years. Everybody was watching him, waiting for his young black ass to fuck up so they could clown. What they didn’t know was that shit was fuel for Pyrite. He thrived on proving niggas wrong. The pressure wasn’t going to break him; no, it was going to make him stronger, which I knew those niggas were going to hate.
“I already know,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit is crazy.” I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed. “I can't tell her no, though; I’m stuck. If I do this race, I’m going to need help, and the only person I trust is Yale.”
“Then that’s your answer,” he chuckled and sat back. His attention was on his star player, Givens Robbins, a special kind of nigga on the court. There was no denying it either. He had a rep as a bad boy, but truthfully, he only fucked with people who fucked with him. His focus was on his daughter, not his baby mama. “You steal the car, let her drive, then when y’all win, step the fuck off.”
“Pyrite-”
“No, lil bro, listen to me,” he said, cutting me off. He turned from watching the court to give me his full attention. “You wantout, shit, you want her out more than anything, but that means you gotta be smart with it. This is the last run, make that shit count. Utilize your skills and the people you surround yourself with. Yale is the best at what y’all do. Shit, she’s better than you, to be honest.”
“No lies told,” our oldest brother, Citrine, interjected, and I cut my eyes at his big ass. He smirked, then took a bite of his nachos. “I ain’t goin’ to lie to you lil bro. She is better than you are, which says a lot. Trust her like she trusts you.”
“Man, I don’t know.” I shook my head and wiped my hand down my mouth. “This shit doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t feel right, or you just don’t like that nigga, Grant?” Pyrite questioned, and I grunted. “You think Grant is on some fuck shit?”
