“Nigga, we still young,” Heavy calmly replied.
“Exactly. You talking like one of these old head niggas who ain’t got shit going for themselves and their days are numbered.”
“Man, whatever.”
“Nah, I hear you. I’m with whatever you decide to do, but I ain’t giving this shit up no time soon. I respect yo’ decision, though, cuz,” Dre jested, patting Heavy on the chest with the back of his hand.
Heavy pushed him away. “Yeah, a’ight. Hand all this shit over and be laid up in the crib rubbing my mothafuckin’ feet together.”
“You do that shit now,” Dre said, laughing. “But for real. If you trying to start a family and shit, I know the perfect girl.”
Heavy gave him a ‘yeah right’ expression. “Who?”
“Sky.”
“Sky, who?”
Dre laughed. “My sister, nigga.”
“Hell nah.”
His words came out so coolly, Dre didn’t take offense, but Heavy meant them.
“For real, bro. You a good nigga. I know I ain’t gon’ ever have to worry too much about her with you. Shit, we family already. Might as well. She need to sit her ass down anyway.”
Heavy heard what he was saying but wasn’t listening. What he wanted to tell Dre was that Skylar wasn’t his type at all. They were grown now, damn near thirty, but he remembered her casually telling him she had a crush on him when they were sixteen. Heavy never paid her any mind, considering her his lil’ sister just as much as she was Dre’s.
“I’m good, bro,” Heavy concluded, as a van pulled up a few spots down. A group of rowdy teenage boys hopped out in gym shorts, ready to hoop. Had he not had somewhere to be in the next hour, Heavy would’ve run a game or two with them.
“Aye, what’s up, Heavy?” one of the boys said, walking over to him.
Heavy chucked his head upward as they slapped hands. “What’s good, Rick?”
“Nothing much. Bouta run these niggas out here.”
“You ain’t nice like that,” Dre teased.
Rick sucked his teeth. “I’d dog you, cuz.”
“Never. I used to embarrass niggas.”
“Used to.” Rick smirked, bouncing the ball between his legs. “When you ready to lose, you know where to find me.”
“This lil’ nigga,” Dre said, laughing. “Catch me next week and put some money up.”
“That’s a bet,” Rick said, then focused on Heavy. “Aye. I ‘preciate what you did for me and my family. Thank you.”
Heavy nodded. “It’s all love, lil’ bro. Just make sure you keep them grades up so I can watch you on the big screen one day.”
Rick smiled big. “Fasho. You got my word,” he said, before jogging off toward the court.
Heavy had been home for two weeks when he finally decided to go by his grandpa’s crib. The thought of visiting, knowing he wasn’t there, wasn’t a reality he was ready to face just yet. When he pulled up, Jasmine, Rick’s mama, was on the porch next door yelling into her phone. She’d moved in a year before Heavy got locked up, so he was familiar with who she was. Plus, she looked out for Mr. G in his absence.
“Mothafucka, me and my kids don’t need you to do anything for us anymore!” Jasmine yelled into the receiver.
Heavy couldn’t hear the other person’s response, but he didn’t need to. He knew that could have only been her kids’ father. He stood, examining the house that was still in pristine condition on the outside, not quite ready to enter the home.
“And I bet you this mortgage will still get paid. Yeah, okay bum-ass nigga. Get off my phone!” Jasmine snapped, hanging up in his face.
