6. Cemone

The Bulldogs had won the game tonight, which was expected. Since I had been on the team, it was a rarity that we lost. I wasn't just saying the shit either; it was facts. Niggas lied but numbers didn't.

At the moment, a few of my teammates and I were out to celebrate at a strip joint across the street from the Ritz Carlton hotel we'd been staying in. Usually, I would've been all for this shit, but tonight, I couldn't get Yolani's ass off my mind.

It'd been almost a week since that date we had, and it seemed like I was no longer able to do shit how I wanted to. The groupies that stayed around the venues after games or showed up to celebrations didn't pique my interest anymore, unfortunately. It was like now that a nigga had gotten a taste of a quality woman, quantity didn't mean shit.

Getting pussy from a female that would give the shit to anybody with fat pockets and fame didn't hit the same as getting the shit from somebody like Yolani, the type of woman who only granted access to a certain type of nigga and only if he put in the work.

"She must not be fine enough." My teammate Barry nudged me, grinning hard. He was new to the team, a young nigga basking in all the attention and pussy that he could, just like I did when I first got drafted.

"She aight." I shrugged, watching him and the other niggas on the team enjoy the festivities and half naked hos, despite the fact that all these niggas, with the exception of Barry and me, were married.

It was common for these muthafuckas to act up whenever we played out of town, though, so I wasn't surprised. I was more surprised at the fact that I wasn't the ringleader like fucking usual. I didn't even get so much as a kiss from Yolani, and I was on my best fucking behavior like a well-trained ass puppy. The thought made a nigga feel annoyed with her ass, but at the same time, it boosted my intrigue. Any woman that could have Cemone Compton not wagging his tongue and getting his dick wet needed to be studied. And anybody who knew me would never tell you shit different.

Going against the real players handbook, I whipped out my phone as some bitch shook her ass in my face and tapped Yolani's name sitting in my favorites list, right along with my brothers.

"Hello?" She picked up on the very last ring it seemed. Everything about Yolani had a nigga on edge, hoping, wishing, and waiting. I didn't like that bullshit, but I did.

"Where you at?"

"New York." She smiled… I could hear it. That was a good ass sign, according to my pops. Whenever you had a woman smiling from simple conversation, it was a very good fucking sign.

Sitting up some now that I was feeling my fucking self, I said, "Damn, I wish I was there too."

Giggling and sucking her teeth, she replied, "Sounds like you're right where you want to be. Why would you call me while at a club or party?"

"Because I'm bored as fuck."

The stripper shaking her ass to Too Short in front of me peered over her shoulder with a snarl, so I nodded for her to get the fuck on, mumbling for her not to bring her ass back either.

"Go to a strip club then. No one is bored while watching titties and asses shaking."

"Would you believe me if I said I was at a strip club?"

"Maybe you're not paying enough attention. But I don't wanna talk to you while you're at a strip club, Cemone."

"What if I left? You'd stay on?"

"I mean, yeah, I would, but why would you want to leave a strip club, bored or not, to sit on the phone with me?"

"Because I do. That ain't what the fuck I asked you though." I stood, slapping hands with my teammates and ignoring the questions being thrown at my back as well as the females trying to get my attention.

I hurriedly left the club and darted across the street, dodging a few cars and tuning out a few people hollering my name obnoxiously.

"Oh my gosh! What the fuck is going on? I hear cars honking and every damn thing!"

"Had to run across the street, and I wasn't about to go to the corner and wait. I'm good now though. I'm in the elevator."

"So did you call me to just talk, or were you hoping we were in the same place?"

"Just to shoot the shit. I'm out of town too, remember? I miss yo' ass, even though I don't know why." I entered my suite, sitting down in the recliner.

"Wow. Thank you for the compliment."

"You know what the fuck I mean." I took one of the waters from the small bar fridge then returned to my seat. "When you coming back?"

"Not for like a week. I have a show tomorrow and then on the move from there. I'm still figuring out when we can have a second date. I haven't forgotten."

"I can come to the show tomorrow."

"It's sold out."

"For regular people, ma-ma, not niggas like me."

She laughed.

"Oh? So you think you can just attend my sold out show tomorrow, though you have no tickets?"

"I can. If you want a nigga there, I'll be there. I can always make shit happen, but I can really do some fucking magic when you involved."

"Hmm, so you'd be willing to pay a lot for a plane ticket because it's last minute and then find a way to secure a seat to my show? All this for a… friend?"

"Yeah, because I don't wanna stay friends. Can't get out the friend zone sitting on my ass, can I?"

"No, you can't."

"My thoughts exactly. Friends ain't gon' work for me unless we fucking friends, but even then, I want more than that."

"Fucking me isn't good enough?" I heard the humor in her tone.

"For a little bit, love, but not long term. I wanna put my name on that shit. Cut off all access to it. Have matching addresses and last names on our ID."

"Is this how you talked to your baby mamas? If so, I can see how they let you get them pregnant."

We chuckled in unison.

"Nah, only thing I said to them hos is ‘open ya mouth', ‘put ya face in the pillow until I finish', and then lastly, ‘I only give a fuck about my baby'."

Surprisingly, Yolani cracked up.

"I hate that you have me laughing at your ignorance."

"You know what they say about that laughing shit, right?" I sank down into the seat.

"What?"

"If you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything."

"Long as that anything doesn't include fucking, maybe you can."

"Let me taste it at least."

Snickering again, she exclaimed, "No! Now I have to do my night routine and then go to sleep so I can be well rested for tomorrow."

"Right. I can't wait to see you do the shit too." I walked to the window, peering out over the city. "But keep me on while you do it."

"I can't talk while brushing my teeth, washing my face, and all that."

"I like to listen."

I wanted to FaceTime her ass, but I knew females were finicky about the shit, according to my brothers, wanting to make sure they looked presentable. I never gave a fuck enough about a bitch to use FaceTime, not unless it was the other type where she was swallowing my dick, so I had to take my siblings' word for it.

This wasn't a bitch or a ho, though, this was Yolani, a woman and my future wife, so I wasn't trying to do anything that would have her wanting to hop her track star ass of the phone.

"You'll listen to me brush my teeth, shower, and groom myself?" she asked skeptically.

"I'll listen to you do any fucking thing, baby. See, I'm yo' real number one fan. Them bitches only wanna listen to you sing. I wanna hear all that shit you do."

Laughing, she replied, "Cemone, no?—"

"I'm dead ass, Yolani. You bet not hang up the phone. Let me do that once you doze off."

"You are so weird, but okay."

"Okay, what? Daddy or sir will work."

"Nigga, in a minute, you're gonna be conversing with the dial tone."

Grinning at her snappy ass, I sat back down, enjoying the sound of her night routine. And an added plus was that she did sing a little while doing the shit.

T he driver for the car service I'd booked pulled into the back VIP parking of the Galaxy Amphitheater where Yolani was performing tonight. As I said, I was able to get a box suite to her show this morning through one of my connects, Karl. The venue held thirty thousand people, and Karl let me know that it indeed was sold out; however, he had literally one box suite available, saved for his circle of people. It cost a nigga ten grand, but my motto as of late had been ‘anything for Yolani,' so I paid it with no hesitation.

Exiting the car, I was escorted up to the box suite where I saw some woman on stage already who was clearly opening up for Yolani. I'd come at the perfect time, because I wasn't truly interested in seeing whomever she was from start to finish. I just prayed she was on her last or at least second to last song.

By the time I got comfortable with a drink and had rolled my good shit up, the opener was leaving and the lights lowered, making the whole venue erupt into roars and screams, holding their signs that I couldn't make out due to where I was seated.

When the lights came back on just a bit, Yolani was there in one of her typical short get ups, standing behind the mic. The audience went insane for such a prolonged ass period that she couldn't start singing immediately.

"We gotta start the show y'all." She smiled widely, making them cheer even more, but they eventually took heed, calming down after yelling a few I love yous.

It was amazing seeing how much these muthafuckas loved her up close. Everybody knew Yolani was top dog, but to be here and witness this shit was another story. People crying, screaming, some looking old enough to be her damn grandma or grandpa, was a sight to see.

The show commenced, and she was a hell of a performer, versatile like a muthafucka. Only Yolani could make popping her ass to "Grindin'" by Clipse look tasteful. Her dancers were good, too, but Yolani commanded attention, making it obvious she was meant to do exactly what she was doing right here.

Security approaching snatched my attention, irritating me before he even said a fucking word. Anything that got in the way of me seeing Yolani or giving her my undivided attention pissed me off, so he was already at a disadvantage.

"What, nigga?" I questioned as his lips parted.

He stepped aside, revealing Ananda and a few other females she had with her. She was smiling widely like a fucking Cheshire cat, and I honestly didn't know why. She knew damn well I didn't fuck with her ass on that tip. Shit was strictly co-parenting, and I was heavily uncompromising when it came to crossing that line.

I didn't fuck around with either of my baby mamas. I didn't involve myself in their personal lives so long as the shit didn't affect my kids, and whenever they tried to step outside of that shit, I shut it down. If I ever checked a message or voicemail and it had something to do with anything other than Blakely or Callen, I never fucking responded. So the fact that Ananda was standing there happy as a dog in a hubcap factory like we were about to kick it and spend a nightcap together mystified the fuck out of me. She was the human form of the word delusional.

"They said it'd be cool to kick it in here with you." The guard shrugged, looking as if I made any sudden moves, he'd shit himself.

I focused back on Ananda grinning, trying to look like the head bitch in charge, and decided to beat her at her own game.

"Yeah, them two in the back can stay but not her," I explained to him, and he nodded.

He gestured for Ananda's two homegirls to come in, placing a blocking hand on her when she attempted to trail them.

"Seriously, Cemone? How you gon' let them bitches in but not the mother of your child!"

"Fuck does you being my baby mama gotta do with anything? This yo' fucking weekend, and you in the same fucking place I am, so clearly you ain't on yo' fucking job!" I snapped. "Get her up out of my shit," I directed the security, and he fell in line instantly.

I watched him escort Ananda away, honestly wondering where the fuck my daughter was. I had no issue with my baby mamas doing them, even when they were supposed to have my kids because, again, what they did in their everyday life didn't make me no fucking never mind. But I knew Ananda and Solene, and they didn't pop up wherever I was by accident.

Most likely, she peeped that I was flying to New York because some nosy muthafucka saw me and updated her ass. On her thirsty shit like her best friend, she came out here and figured out where the fuck I was. The bitch should've put that energy into securing a job with the CIA instead of following me around like a fucking bozo.

"Can we open this?" the dark-skinned woman asked, holding the bottle up.

"It's already paid for. Just don't touch me or bother me while I'm watching the show," I said, focusing back on Yolani and sparking up.

Inhaling on the blunt, I allowed Yolani to capture my attention again completely. She had me so wrapped up in the way she commanded the stage with her sexy ass that I didn't even realize these two hos had started getting freaky right in front of me in an attempt to entice a nigga.

"What about if we touch you now?" the medium-toned one inquired, walking to me on her knees.

Leaning down some and causing her to open her mouth as if I would ever kiss the bitch, I said, "Get the fuck out. Both of you hos."

"I was just kidding!" She rocked back onto her toes.

"I'm not! Hurry the fuck up!" I tossed their bras and shirts that they'd removed, scaring them to their feet and out of my area.

About half an hour later, the show was over. I let people file out, not wanting to run into any fans or groupies before I text Yolani.

Me: I'm here. Tell yo' people I'm coming backstage so I won't have to knock a nigga out.

Pretty Ass Yolani: Omg okay.

Gathering the shit I brought for her, I made my way out the suite and down the staircase before making my way across the big ass venue to get backstage. As I'd requested, them niggas let me through with no qualms, even telling me how to get to her dressing room.

Knocking twice, I entered the room to see Yolani in the dress she finished the show in, only her hair was clipped up.

"You got some chops for real." I came up behind her, kissing the side of her neck and making her flinch and giggle. "For you." I straightened up, handing off the gift bag containing a diamond necklace and bracelet to match, along with roses.

"Cemone, I thought I said the gifts needed to stop."

"The gifts with no meaning needed to stop. This ain't that." I nodded for her to open it.

Attempting to hold back her smile, she set the roses down and started to open the jewelry.

"What do these mean then?" she asked softly, admiring them.

"Just means I like you, I'm proud of you, I'm in awe of you, and that you deserve to be iced out." I took the necklace from the velvet box and got behind her to put it on as she watched in the vanity mirror. As I fastened it, I said, "Just 'cause you can buy yo' own shit don't mean a nigga can't spoil you. You being rich ain't got shit to do with the moves I make. None of that shit means a nigga can't take care of you. Everything else is irrelevant."

She simpered, listening as I helped her put the bracelet on.

"Well thank you. This was sweet." She checked herself out in the mirror, adding, "Would've been sweeter had you not had some bitches in your suite."

"We was just enjoying the show." I lifted my brows, making her smirk. "Plus, what yo' friend got going ain't none of ya fucking business, right?"

"You right. But that also means that my friend can't make a scene when he sees a nigga in my space, right?"

"Nah, I'm gon' always act a fucking fool when another nigga is in yo' face." I stepped closer to her, gently brushing my fingers along her waist and tugging her into me. "I'm gon' have fun with yo' short ass when you let me. Turn you into a little dick taking acrobat." I let my eyes drift over her, thinking of all the nasty shit I dreamed about nightly at this fucking point.

"Get the fuck out of here." She laughed.

"Let me have a kiss."

"No." She shook her head, stepping back. "If I kiss you, you will start thinking that I'm giving into this." She wouldn't meet my eyes, so I made her, hooking her chin.

"And?"

"I can't. You claim the stuff about you, mainly being a bad father, isn't true, but I don't know that to be the case. That is the main thing I don't like, but the other shit is just as bad too. The last nigga I want is one who doesn't handle his business as a father, and on top of that can't control his temper, and is a womanizer."

"I haven't fucked with nobody else in a minute, and I told you that deadbeat shit is a lie, Yolani." I ran my hand down my face out of frustration.

"So you say it's a lie, but I need to see with my own eyes." She sighed like she didn't want to say what she was about to say. "Every man that I have been with has been unfaithful to me. So what kind of fool would that make me, taking a nigga serious that would come to my fucking show and have bitches in his suite with him. You couldn't even tone the shit down at my concert.

"I'm not mad at you, so don't get that impression. I don't have the room to be because we aren't like that, but I'm just trying to make you understand my hesitance, Cemone. You say all this stuff, great stuff that has me rethinking everything I thought I knew about you, but then you come here to see me and have hos in your space. Not after you left like most decent niggas would've. So make it make sense. That's not the man I'm looking for. You aren't the man I'm looking for."

"It wasn't like that. I was on some petty shit… with my baby mama," I admitted begrudgingly. I knew the shit sounded bad. "And I am the man you looking for; you just can't see the shit yet.

"Though tonight them bitches weren't there for me to fuck on, I can do what I want, Yolani, so long as you calling me a friend."

"Exactly—"

"But," I cut her off, pulling her back to me because she was too damn far, "it's whatever you wanna do. Day one, I been ready to do whatever it is you want me to do so I can prove I'm not playing a fucking game. Since I met you, I knew it was never gon' be anybody but you." I frowned, saying, "These bitches ain't shit to me. So, if you tell me you want me to only deal with you, I will, but I need some assurance, love. I need to know I'm gon' be yo' nigga. You give me that, and I'll give you everything, anything you fucking want."

"You said you'd do what I wanted, even if it went nowhere."

"I did, but that's because a nigga will say anything to keep you around. But I can't be on hold for nothing, baby. Initially, yeah, it was cool, but I want you too badly to keep playing a game I may lose. I always been a sore loser, since childhood. That's why I'm the best at what I do, 'cause the feeling of losing will have a nigga spazzing."

She smiled softly but let it fade almost as soon as it appeared.

"Give me twenty-four hours to think."

"Can I get a kiss then, shit? I don' flew out here, paid out the ass for a suite, brought flowers, diamonds… doing all kinds of shit no woman unless named Lisara or Banks can say I've ever done. I don' fucked for less and all I want is a kiss." I held her tighter to me, wanting to say fuck it and kiss her ass anyway, but it was clear Yolani had boundaries, and the easiest way to lose all her trust and the progress a nigga had made would be to Bogart that shit.

"I don't know where that mouth has been." She hiked a brow.

"On the phone all fucking night. You forgot?"

"Wasn't all night. I need to see some STD results before all that." When I laughed, she said, "I'm serious."

"I think it was easier to get drafted than to get anywhere with yo' ass."

We laughed before she squealed from me picking her up and wrapping her legs around me.

"Cemone, stop!" She screeched as I gripped her ass in my hands.

"You gotta give me something."

"Just ten more seconds then," she offered, and I happily took the shit.

As I copped a feel, my phone rang back to back to back, but I ignored it, already figuring out who the fuck it was. Ananda had made it back to her hotel and was now blowing down my fucking line.

After letting Yolani down to her feet, feeling her eyes on my phone blasting from my pocket, I answered it.

"What?" I barked.

"How dare you embarrass me like that!" Ananda screamed. "They know I'm your fucking baby mama, the least you could've done was be cool with me in front of them!"

"So you can show off? Nah. You ain't got that type of baby daddy, baby. I don't fuck with you, so you can't use me as a status symbol. Don't hit me no more about bullshit."

Before Ananda could inhale and go off, I hung up, putting the shit on buzz only.

By this time, Yolani had changed, and I was pissed I missed catching a peep of shit… anything. Then again, as wound up as I was behind her mean ass, I might've bust a nut in my jeans from the sight of her fucking bra pattern. She had me reverting back to my teenage years when I got my first taste of pussy. I still remembered riding home in Khari's car, rapping along to Jay-Z's "I Just Wanna Love U" because I was feeling myself.

"Why are you so mean to her?" Yolani's face bunched as she zipped her bag up.

"You bet' not," I told her when she was about to throw it on her shoulder. She promptly handed it over along with anything else she thought she was gon' carry. "I'm mean to her because she pissed me off earlier with her antics, and I don't really care for her as a person. As a mother, she aight, but that could be because I came from an amazing one and see some amazing ones to my nieces and nephews. So Ananda don't really measure up."

"I've never heard you say something like that, so you must admire your mother." Yolani nodded, beaming slightly and looking as if she were thinking.

"I do."

"Why did you have a baby with her if you don't like her?"

"I didn't get her ass pregnant on purpose. Not like I went in raw. I strapped up, but the shit didn't handle its business, clearly. It was a one-time thing, just like with her best friend."

"Lord, how did I forget that little tidbit." She shook her head.

"This is different, though, me and you. Any nigga taking groupies seriously is a damn fool. God got my ass together, though, by making me get them bitches pregnant. I became way more careful. You'd think I was a muthafuckin' amateur by the way I strap up now; slow and steady like a muthafucka."

Yolani laughed and rolled her eyes.

"So I'm the first one you've told is different?"

"You are. Understand, Yolani, that since I could dribble and put a ball through a hoop, I ain't had to say much to get what I wanted out of a woman. Or to get her to do what the fuck I wanted her to. I don't even have game or lies to tell you 'cause I ain't ever had to use the shit. I just do me, and if she fall in line, she fall in line. If not, somebody waiting for her spot.

"You the first in a lot of ways. Mainly, you the first woman I don' spent more than forty-eight hours with and ain't got pussy from within that time frame."

"That is not a good thing, Cemone." She smiled. "It also shows you can't commit. And your baby mama today seems to be very attached to you to have been a one nighter."

"I don't mean to toot my own fucking horn, but I clearly made an impression on her unstable ass, because on my kids I only fucked once. And there's a difference between a nigga who can't commit and one who won't. I'm the latter, but again, anything for you."

"You think I'm green enough to believe I'm the girl that can change a dog?" She cocked her head, scoffing. "That's bitches' problem, thinking they're different because a nigga says they are when the proof is right there."

Shrugging, I said, "Don't know what to tell you. You are that girl, love."

"Hmm." She playfully punched my stomach.

"Kick it for the night." I watched her think about it. "You ain't got a show for two days, I checked. You want me to beg?" I asked, and she nodded while cheesing. Setting her bags down, then getting onto my knees, making her cackle, I put my hands in prayer mode. "Please come kick it with a nigga, Yolani. I need a few more smart comments, neck rolls, and attitude to sleep well tonight."

Touching both sides of my face as she looked down at me, she brought her face close to mine, pressing our noses together and said, "Fine, but only because I got Cemone Compton on his knees."

"You would've been seen me on my knees if you take ya panties off."

"Never."

"Yeah, aight." I opened the dressing room door for her. "When I do get a much-needed taste, I'm eating that pussy so long I'm gon' be picking that shit out my teeth."

Yolani threw her head back in laughter as we exited the back area.

After leaving the venue, we decided to go see a movie since Yolani claimed it was one she'd been trying to see for weeks and wanted to before the shit went to streaming apps.

What we did, didn't too much matter to me, and not only because I just wanted to be around her, it was that no matter what we did or what we were talking about, I was enjoying myself. I didn't know what that shit meant, but it was the current case.

Halfway through the movie, she agreed to come to my hotel room, of course reminding a nigga nothing would happen. I didn't give a fuck, because the shit was progress. The night, so far, had been going better than a nigga thought, until someone snapped our picture on the way out of the theater, and I watched Yolani's whole demeanor shift, like she was nervous about some shit.

"You still wanna come to the hotel, right?" I quizzed, since she'd been staring out the window of the truck for the past ten minutes.

"Um… yeah, it should be fine." She nodded. "We should've gone there instead of to the movies." She nibbled on her long nails sprinkled with a few tiny diamonds. It looked like some shit my sister-in-law had done.

"Nah, we shouldn't have. You gotta do what the fuck you want to, regardless of whether people gon' take ya picture or not." I took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers, and she watched as if she was expecting my shit to sprout claws.

"You have some really big hands."

"You know what that mean, right?"

"Keep talking like that, Cemone, and I will tell this driver to take me to my own room." She playfully dug her nails into the back of my hand.

"These muthafuckas is soft too. Mmm." I moaned, feeling a little tipsy from the alcohol I'd had at the concert and the dine-in theater.

"I'm a woman. What have you been holding hands with, reptiles?"

Chuckling lazily, I said, "Nah. I can't remember the last time I held hands with a woman who I wasn't related to."

I rocked my head in her direction, looking her in the eyes. They were brown, but if the light hit them shits just right, they favored whiskey. Now, every time I drank that shit, which thankfully wasn't a lot, I thought of her. Wasn't too much shit around me that didn't make me think of Yolani's ass.

"I'm just getting all the firsts, huh?" she asked as the driver pulled up to the Mandarin.

"The lasts too."

"You must be about to die."

We both burst into laughter as I shook my head at her ass. "And here I thought I was mean. You got a nigga beat for real. You lucky I like yo' ass, or I would've been lit you up."

She only smiled, giggling.

Begrudgingly letting her hand go, I hopped out, letting the driver know it was cool and then helped Yolani out myself. It was late, so the hotel lobby was deserted as we walked through, hitting the elevator to ride up to my suite.

"Of course you got the presidential suite." She walked in as I held the door for her, admiring the ceilings. "I think I stayed here once."

"Yeah, I got standards, so I can't just have any old amenities and shit." I led her to the bedroom area, dimming the lights.

When we made eye contact, she wore her signature smirk that always made me return the gesture. Yolani was more than pretty; she was warm too. She could get the most guarded muthafucka to relax, AKA me.

I lay down on the bed and patted for her to join me. She acted as if she was thinking about it before lying next to me, us facing each other.

"I have to ask, why did you impregnate best friends?" She stared me down cynically.

"I didn't know they were best friends. It ain't like I knew 'em. I didn't find out until after Ananda hit me saying she had my baby, and it hit the media. People was all in my comments calling me a dog for getting two homegirls pregnant."

"But they decided not to say nothing to the friend who got pregnant by you, knowing you had her friend pregnant?" Her brow rose.

"I ain't even think about that, but nah. Everything is the nigga's fault, ain't it?"

"Sometimes it's supposed to be." She half smiled.

"Yeah, but I don't really give a fuck about them being close. Shit, if they didn't care, why should I? And while I love my kids, I do regret having them with those unstable ass creatures, for real. But because they gave me Blakely and Callen, they ain't too fucking bad, I guess," I admitted. "It's crazy how you don't think about shit until it's too late. Picking the right person to procreate with never crossed my mind until I had them come into my life."

"Uh, yeah, that's why you practice some discernment. I am not having kids with a man until he marries me because if I married him, that means I see forever with him. I used to date just to date, but now I won't even waste my time if I don't see it going anywhere or if I can't see myself accepting a proposal," she explained.

I wasn't in the mood to hear her tell me I wasn't the nigga she thought of when she dreamed of a husband, so I kept my comments to myself. Yolani wasn't gon' get it from me talking; a nigga had to show and prove.

"Makes sense."

"You sound like you really love your kids. And from talking to you, you seem to have them a nice amount of time."

"Told you that." I watched her eyes move around my face for a bit as she propped her head up with her hand. "So now you gon' stop believing I'm a deadbeat? I come from a semi-deadbeat nigga, so I could never."

Shrugging, she glanced off then focused back on me. "I kind of believe you, but at the same time, I'm not one of those women who believe everything the father says. I would have to get my own intel." She studied me. "What is a semi-deadbeat?"

"Those fathers that are good for part of your life, either from the time you born or from like mid-twenties until the end, but absent during the other part."

"Which did you have?" Her brows furrowed.

"The first one." I nodded, remembering Devante's punk ass. "He was straight, no pun intended, until I was about eleven, and then he kind of just went and started a new life and family a year later."

"I think that's worse! It's probably easier to abandon a child you don't know versus one you raised from birth until preteen age."

"I guess not, baby." I stroked my beard, not really in the mood to talk about Devante. I hadn't in years, especially not with someone who wasn't directly related to his ass like my brothers or paternal grandparents. "Anyway, I ain't a deadbeat or a semi-deadbeat, but I agree you shouldn't believe shit you don't see for yaself." I turned onto my back.

"Then will you stop letting people think otherwise?"

"Maybe." I shrugged, smiling when she smacked her lips. "You so fucking pretty." I watched her toss her hair, searching for a flaw on this woman, but none had been detected so fucking far.

Fidgeting with her nails, she replied, "I know you think you like me, Cemone, but you don't know me know me to like me that way." Regaining eye contact with me, she continued. "Men think what they see on social media, onstage, and in videos is what they're gonna get, and part of that is true because it is me, but that is a job, a persona at the end of the day."

"You look better than you do on all of that shit, Yolani. Even in the short ass top and sweatpants, you sexy, and I ain't just saying that shit. One thing I noticed about you that I didn't even know I would fuck with is how you carry yourself, even in tennis shoes and lounge shit. You still got that walk that drives a nigga crazy. Even when everything is covered the fuck up, you still prissy and cross ya legs. You can't ever not be sexy to me."

The way her eyes moved around my face told me she was processing my words, one of her tells I'd been able to learn. When she thought I was lying, she responded immediately and with something smart, accompanied by the roll of her fucking eyes. When she believed me, she stayed quiet for a few beats, digesting my words.

"Thank you, Cemone." She blushed, unintentionally it seemed because she shook her head at herself. "I meant my personality and how my life is though. I probably should've explained that better."

"Fuck you talking about? You look mean as fuck on social media, and I can confirm you are."

She guffawed, tossing her head back like she always did before looking into my face again.

"You know what I mean, sir. And when men don't get that Yolani all day, every day, things go downhill, and it is because they were attracted to the singer and not who I am really." Sighing, she said, "But even they pretend to be good guys at first. You came in hot, showing your fuckboy personality from the gate. So why would it make sense for me to engage with you in that way? How do you think this would go?"

"I don't know one hundred percent, but I think better than with them other niggas."

"Well I know exactly how this would go if I took you seriously."

"Tell me then." I turned to face her, readying myself for the bullshit.

"Surprisingly, you're not the first man to act like I am just so different and am the one. I'm sure you told Milaysia the same thing."

She'd verbally punched me in the stomach mentioning Milaysia's thot ass. She was a singer I had fucked once and let suck me off whenever the opportunity presented itself, then I got tired of that shit and cut her off. She came back around saying she was pregnant by me, and because I don' had babies pinned on me since I started in the NBA, I took the shit in stride. She kept the shit on the low, which I appreciated, even though she only did the shit for self-serving reasons. She had her own career, so telling the world she was pregnant, and by a nigga like me of all people, wouldn't have been smart on her end, especially because she miscarried and it turned out to be some other nigga's baby, some shit she knew already, I was sure since I didn't go in raw.

Because I wouldn't continue to fuck with her even after all that baby shit, she ran to the internet, subliminally telling her fans how some basketball nigga had done her dirty. It didn't take a forensic scientist to figure out who she was referring to, and now that was the narrative, that I had played her to the left like I always did females. By saying that, I was praying Yolani wasn't even thinking about that shit. All it would do was give her even more reason to be apprehensive about fucking with me.

"I never told her anything of the sort and dare that bitch to tell you different." I perked up. "I treated her the same way I did these regular hos, and she tried to run to the public and change the story. She know I ain't no social media nigga, so I wasn't about to hop on shit and correct, defend, or expose shit. I don't argue with females either, so she had the lie shit in the bag. It sold her album, so good for her lying ass."

"So you only slept with her once?" Yolani's eyes widened.

"Yep. One night and got some head maybe two or three times but stopped that shit because she kept showing up everywhere I was, using sex as a way to spend time with a nigga. Then, tried to pin baby on me."

"Let's change the subject." She rubbed her eyes.

Wrapping my arm around her stomach, I tugged her closer to me. "Tell me how you think this shit is gon' go."

Removing her palms from her eyes, she replied, "You will realize I'm not what you thought, that I actually have other things going on outside of being famous, rich, and a singer. You'll first start to act like you're busy and that our schedules just aren't lining up, and then down the line, I will find out you're in the midst of some cheating scandal, and people will crucify me for being stupid enough to date you when I knew this was gonna happen." She cocked her head. "End of the story and waste of my time."

Nodding, I let her tale simmer before saying, "I may be a lot of shit—rude, cocky, promiscuous—but I ain't never been no fake nigga. No one can ever tell you I don' made a promise I ain't keep and didn't plan on keeping. Even my baby mamas can't say that shit. So when I tell you I won't fuck this up and that this shit is different for me, that's what the fuck I mean."

"Mhm." She touched my face, peering into my eyes.

"Now how I think shit is gon' go is, we get together once you stop giving a nigga a hard time, even though that shit turns me on a little bit, we fall in love, hit a few bumps but mainly because I got two raccoons for baby mamas and you got an overbearing ass, freaky ass, got a crush on my sister ass nigga for a brother that I may have to put a bullet in, but in the end, me and you gon' be one of the realest love stories."

She tried to keep a stale expression but her smile broke through.

Throwing her arms around my neck, she said, "I want to kiss you, but I need those results first." She eyed me then continued. "You said your father is a semi deadbeat, so is your stepdad the one who gave you some sense?"

"I always had sense."

"True, but your demeanor and the way you present yourself, around me at least, is of a boy who has been raised correctly into a man. That can't be done by a deadbeat."

"My stepfather is a good dude." I nodded. "He came into my life when I was twelve, about a year after my parents broke up and my dad had started to distance himself. A lot of the shit he taught, I only took the bits and pieces I felt applied to me, like survival shit, how to handle myself as a man, that type of shit. Relationship shit, I always tuned out, though, feeling like I ain't need it since I would never have anything serious.

"But then I ran across you, and all of the shit he used to say finally clicked for a nigga." I chuckled, thinking about Prime. "Which is exactly what he used to tell me would happen. He'd always say the shit he was saying wouldn't make sense until I met her. And until I did, all that he was telling me would seem far-fetched, unrealistic, especially for a nigga who moved and thought the way I did."

She watched me closely, listening intently.

"I knew I was right. I figured you either came from a horrible man and wanted to be the opposite of him or you came from a good man who led you well."

"Both," I said. Bringing her leg across me, I stated, "Spend the night. I got some shit for you to sleep in."

"You gonna sleep on the couch?"

"Absolutely not, love. I'm gon' be in this muthafucka with you. Right behind you, rubbing on that ass."

She pondered momentarily then replied, "Okay, but nothing else."

"Trust me, I know."