He breathes against my face while my muscles remember all the movements the world tried to make them forget.
I push up to take the shot, but pull down as soon as he puts his arms up to block it.
My muscles don’t need coaching on how to fake a dude out on the court. It’s so second nature to them it’s boring, but what isn’t boring is Phat’s eyes burning holes into my face. I need them. I need themsobad that when I step back and sink a three so nasty I can’t control the words I blurt out.
“Yeah, this it.” I nod with a serene smile. “She mine, but she too fucking scared to trust me.”
I taste the metallic before I feel the impact. The heavythunckfrom Marcus’ knuckles ring through my ears as I slide against the concrete. I hear my teeth chattering against each other when another rumble of thunder claps in the distance.
“Man, what the fuck?” I yell.
Fuck a flight mode, my body goes straight into fight and I ball my fists at my sides.
Playing ball with Marcus isjustlike it is back home.
I push off the ground and barrel toward him, sticking my balled fist across his face. He doesn’t let me get far. He rams his body into mine and pins my arms at my sides, huffing out loud breaths.
“What you pressing me for?” I hurl out, swallowing a glob of blood at the same time. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Babygirl...” he says, out of breath.
“Huh?”
“That’s what Marshall called her—babygirl.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head, but it doesn’t matter. He already knows and the worst part is that I can’t figure out how, but Mom was the same way. Sometimes she just knew shit.
“But she don’t remember that. All she know is me, my voice, and the name I gave her.”
“Phat...” I mutter.
“Yeah.Fat girl.” He smiles. “But my baby thinks she’s too grown and too cool for that, so we had to drop the F and keep it player.”
I pull my lip into my mouth, sucking the blood from it while my stomach roils at the sound of him calling herhisbaby.
There’s a layer of accusations between his words as if I already had my hands on her body, my mouth on hers, and my dick inside of her but all I did was feed her a bunch of words to think about when I left. I guess words can be just as damning as a touch.
Another loud rumble of thunder claps as a sheet of rain sneaks under the tin awning that covers the court. It washes away the blood leaking from my lip as he yanks me to my feet.
Our loud breathing combines with the smack he gives my back. “You hurt her feelings and I’ll fuck you up. I don’t care who son you is.”
I fling my head up. “I’m Angie’s son and you got me fucked up if you think she would even let you do that. Fuck you think this is? You keep leaving her at home by herself and hurting her feelings, I’ll fuck you up. I don’t care who sonyou is. We can squabble up, nigga.”
Our chests pump in and out as we stare at each other with the rain pelting our bodies. I try to push away all the irrational thoughts I’m having about a girl that has all the traits of a pretend girl that Mom had me obsessing over.
Marcus belts out a loud roar of laughter.
He smacks me upside the head like Pops liked to do. “You dumbass cocky ass nigga. When AW called me from LA talking about your head was gone I knew he was just panicking. You still intact up there.”
The muggy air sneaks down my throat at the thought of Pops dissecting my brain with somebody other than me, but I can’t blame him. If I ever saw my only son in handcuffs, I think I’d do the same.
“He called you?” I choke out.
“Yeah. He always call.”
That bubble of muggy air explodes in my throat and I swallow it with the rest of the questions I want to ask but already know the answer to.
“He call every year on Marshall’s birthday, but when he called me on a random ass Monday in September, I knew something wasn’t right.”
