8. Cemone

ONE WEEK LATER…

"Dad, look!" Blakely shouted, climbing the back of the tiny ass jungle gym I'd sweated my ass off putting together yesterday before they came over.

"What about me?" Khari shouted.

"Okay, you look too!" she replied, and once she had my attention, Khari's, and even Lequay's and Bashar's who she hadn't asked for, she flew down the slide as her brother watched, shaking his head.

"He hating already. He just like you," Bashar said, making them Three Stooges ass niggas laugh as I faked one.

"Fuck you, nigga." I shook my head. "By the way, I may be going out of town this summer for a little bit, so whatever y'all was planning to invite a nigga to, I may not be able to make it."

"Where you going?" Khari frowned.

"Mississippi with Yolani." I kept my focus on my kids running around, but I could feel my brothers watching me and subtly talking shit.

"Keep playing, nigga, and she gon' press charges." Lequay finally broke the silence.

"You real funny, despite the fact that you the same nigga who procured yo' wife's number from a prison phone system instead of asking her like a normal person. That's what I did. I asked Yolani for her number, and she gave it to me."

"He low-key got a point." Bashar nodded as Khari chuckled. "That was weird, nigga."

"Paid off, so I couldn't care less. My point is, Yolani ain't fucking with this nigga, and he following her all over the country like a bitch," Lequay stated.

"She kind of invited me. She goes down there every summer to visit her mama's side of the family, and since I wanna see her, I'm going too."

"Kind of invited you?" Khari frowned doubtfully.

"She told me about it and left it open like I could come if I wanted to, so I'm going." I checked my phone, seeing if she had hit a nigga back yet, but of course, Yolani took forever to reply or answer.

I was used to being the muthafucka that took forever to respond or answer a call. Honestly, she didn't even take that fucking long; I was just anxious as hell to talk to her ass all the time.

"That'll be good. I doubt it'll be as much paparazzi and shit out there. They been going in on her ass for being around you, nigga," Khari informed. "Bambi told Couture, and she told me," he clarified, because I was about to ask when he started to entertain gossip and shit.

"Going in how?" I asked as Bashar and Lequay looked on intently, clearly wondering the same shit.

"That they gon' stop supporting her music if she is fucking with you. That she's a damn fool and gon' end up like Milaysia. She's not a girl's girl for fucking with you after how you did Milaysia, even though they supposed to be friends. That's all I really remember. Couture was talking a mile a fucking minute."

For a moment, I chewed on Khari's words, not really knowing how to respond. It made sense as to why Yolani was so hellbent on me not letting people run with the narrative that I was a bad person. The bad part was aside from me not being an active father, all the other shit was true. I did get pissed off about the smallest shit, I was ignorant as fuck, and I had pulled a gun on my teammate for talking out the side of his neck. There wasn't much I could say or do to combat some shit that was true.

"She and Milaysia not friends," I corrected. "They just on the same label."

"I figured. You take a few photos together and people swear y'all best fucking friends." Khari sighed.

"She want me to stop letting Solene dog me in the media. I wasn't really giving a fuck about that but knowing my shit is affecting her makes me want to do a little bit of maintenance to my fucking image."

"Damn. You must really fuck with her ass because for as long as I've known you, yo' personality has been you not giving a fuck what people thought," Bashar said.

My brothers chuckled as I shrugged because it was true. It wasn't that I tried not to give a fuck, I just didn't. The only person I gave a fuck about their opinion was God, and nobody on this earth was Him, so it was pointless to care about what the next muthafucka, who lived, breathed, and died just like you would, thought.

"I think she right. I don't fuck with that shit either that Solene be saying, but I can't care more than you, nigga," Lequay commented. "The temper shit is what you gon' have issues with though. You like this nigga right here." He pointed to Khari. "You niggas be ready to fight anywhere, anytime, no matter what the fuck is going on around you, without thinking."

"I used to be like that. I've toned the shit down a bit," Khari interjected.

"Fuck outta here, nigga. Somebody say the wrong thing in church, you gon' throw down right there." Bashar called him out as we cackled.

"I mean, depends on what the fuck they say." He shrugged. "Y'all niggas is scary. I can't help that I'm not. None of y'all liked Prime's muthafuckin' ass in the beginning, but I was the only one willing to say some shit."

That caused all of us to roar with laughter because the nigga was speaking facts. It was only at the very beginning, but once we started to get to know Prime, we realized the nigga was cool and actually loved our mother. Prior to that, though, we wanted the nigga gone but had let Khari stand on that hill alone.

"I wasn't afraid. I was just focused on other shit like gettin' money and a whip." Lequay smirked, half-lying.

"Real shit. I had a crazy ass girlfriend and homework to do, nigga. I ain't have time to tussle with Prime's big ass," Bashar added, causing us to laugh even harder.

"We def let you take the fucking heat, dog, but you was the oldest. That's yo' job." I winked at him, making him shake his head.

"Man, all I know is I showed my ass so that by the time I started liking the nigga, I had to keep up appearances and still hate his ass." Khari reminisced, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

"She give it to you yet?" Lequay inquired, and when I avoided eye contact, keeping my focus on my kids, them niggas started doing the most.

"You telling me you acting like this and she ain't even letting you smash? At least tell me you got some head, or I'm gon' have to snatch yo' fucking player card." Khari egged the shit on as his brothers laughed, anticipating my response.

"Nah, I haven't gotten any fucking thing, but I ain't tripping. I'm gon' be in it for years to come; ain't no fucking rush."

Khari gave me a look, causing us all to laugh as I shook my head at these niggas.

Though I did wanna fuck Yolani, and badly as hell, I was speaking facts. That was me, and I already knew our shit would last, so I didn't feel the need to sweat over pussy I was bound to get and for the rest of my damn life.

"I like her already, nigga," Bashar replied, nodding.

"Nah, for real. Any woman got you acting like you got some fucking sense without having to put that shit on you is good in my fucking book." Lequay agreed as Khari bobbed his head.

We chopped it up for a little more until my kids wanted to eat some lunch, so I sent my brothers on their fucking way then fed them the meal Analicia sent through Bashar for me. She and Presley had been coming through on the food shit for a nigga, because Blakely and Callen were beyond fucking picky.

We colored for a bit, then played with the new toys I'd bought them the day I took Yailey shopping, before it was snack, then bath, then bedtime. By the time their tiny terror asses had knocked out, a nigga was tired, so I dragged myself to the shower, then brushed, flossed, and rinsed with mouthwash before climbing in my bed, Yolani on my damn mind like always.

Taking my phone out, I went into my social media and queued up a photo my brother had taken of me when I was helping my kids on the jungle gym before letting them do their own thing. Going against everything I believed in, I posted the picture to my page with the caption Day well spent .

Shaking my head, I locked my shit and lay down, hating that I was letting muthafuckas I didn't even know make me give a fuck. But I couldn't sit by and let niggas crucify Yolani, especially if certain shit wasn't even true, and I could easily disprove it.

My phone buzzed, and I almost didn't pick it up, figuring it was something in response to what I'd posted, but I did anyway. I saw it was a text message from Yolani and, under that, a notification that she'd liked my picture. She was the only person I followed on social media.

Pretty Ass Yolani: Cute photo :)

Pretty Ass Yolani: All three of you.

Me: Thank you.

Me: I miss you.

Pretty Ass Yolani: Not in LA. You already knew that though.

Pretty Ass Yolani: I kind of miss you too. Wanna FaceTime?

Without answering, I called her ass up, smirking as soon as her pretty ass face appeared on my screen.

"Fuck." I ran my hand down my face.

"What?" she asked.

"I got it bad for you, baby."

SOMETIME LATER…

I'd just gotten to my hotel room in Seattle where my next game was and couldn't wait to go to sleep. My teammate and roommate for the night, Sammie, was thankfully about to sneak out to the strip club, so I would have the place to myself.

I hated when they booked us to share a fucking room like we weren't grown ass men, but it was typically for short stays and not very often, so I wasn't tripping. On top of that, Sammie was cool, and usually, every time we roomed together, the nigga was in the streets and would randomly be back in his bed by morning.

I was a wild nigga, but basketball had always come before everything, so there was some shit I just didn't do, and sneaking out to see pussy was one of them. I could get that easily on my downtime.

As the thought crossed my mind, I felt conflicted as fuck. Yolani was clearly bothered by me still fucking on other females, and every time I thought about the way her fucking face looked when she heard the shit, it made me hesitant to get my dick wet. I was young though, with a crazy active libido, so the thought of just being celibate with no possible end in sight sounded like a muthafuckin' nightmare.

My phone yanked me from my thoughts, and when I looked down, I saw it was Solene. I hated that I couldn't cut her access off to me completely. As bad as I wanted to keep even my Google number from her, I couldn't because she had my son, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to him and she couldn't reach me. But seeing me? Yeah, she'd have to catch me when it came to that shit.

"What, Solene?" I answered, going into the large bathroom to cut the light on so I could start the shower.

"Where are you?"

"When has that ever been any of yo' fucking business? Why you call me?" I frowned, leaning against the granite countertop.

"Callen is sick, so I need you to come over."

"Sick how?"

"I'm not sure."

"Take him to the fucking doctor and find out! Fuck you calling me for? You know I'm in Washington, so why would I be the first call when you don't even know what the fuck is going on? So I can sit and worry for no fucking reason?"

"Calm down! I hurt my ankle, so I can't drive."

Solene was a horrible ass liar, but it made me no never mind. That was her nigga's problem. He was clearly a sucker, though, because Solene was on my dick more than his, even after he forgave her for having a baby on him.

"Aight, let me see if one of my people can come. If not, I'll send a driver," I said.

"No, I want you to come!"

"Well, I'm not. I'm in another state, and you talking nonsense. You can't even name a muthafuckin' symptom, but you think I'm 'bout to hop on a fucking flight when you known for bullshitting? And you bet not be lying because I swear to God, if my mama or any of my family ride out on a bum trip, you gon' pay for that shit."

"You act like you never liked me, nigga! Remember you invited me to your room and fucked me! You sure had time for me then!"

"You sound stupid ass fuck. You was a groupie then, and you still are. I used you for what the fuck you was for and planned to never see yo' ass again. Had you not had my son, you wouldn't even have my fucking number. Now should I call my mama or not?"

"No." She growled. "You know what, nigga?—"

"No, I don't." I hung up on her stupid ass.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I had the water to the shower on.

BM1: Our son is sick and you don't even care. What do you care about other than chasing singing bitches?

Shaking my head, I locked my device and proceeded to shower and handle my oral hygiene. By the time I got out, I had been blown up with mentions and tags because, of course, Solene posted our text thread of me ignoring her. I noticed she deleted all the messages propositioning me for dick and the videos of her playing in her pussy, making it look as if I never replied to the important shit she'd sent over time.

If I could just murk the bitch I would. Shit, maybe I could.

POSTGAME…

Begrudgingly, I sat down at the table as cameras flashed, and reporters stood there with pens, notepads, and recorders ready to document my every word. I hated doing this shit, but the manager made it clear I needed to, and since I was trying to show that I was turning over a new leaf and shit, I would abide by the rules. I couldn't lie and say this switch wasn't for Yolani too though.

"Compton, how do you think you played tonight?" some white man inquired, grinning.

"We won, so you tell me." I lifted my brows as the room let out light chuckles, the sound of cameras clicking nonstop.

"Do you purposely try to get in a person's head when playing them? We often see and sometimes hear you doing a little trash talk as you play," a woman inquired.

"I mean, sometimes I just don't like the nigga I'm crossing over and others… yeah. I know if you say the right thing, the wrong type of nigga can lose focus," I explained, and she nodded, scribbling shit down.

The interview continued, and when it was time for one nigga to speak up, his expression told me he was about to piss me off, and that that was his exact intention.

"Compton, how are you?" he asked.

"That's the question you chose?" I quizzed, reading his energy and making the room snicker.

"No." He faked a smile. "My question is about how you feel, knowing you are still allowed to carry into the venue and locker rooms, despite it being against the rules. Don't you think it's unfair for you to be allowed such a privilege, especially given your track record?"

I knew it. I knew as soon as I saw him in them flooding ass pants and too tight ass sports coat complemented by that smug smile that he was gon' be on some bullshit.

Contemplating on how I wanted to answer, I stroked my beard for a moment, the camera flashes blinding me as several of the reporters looked on, waiting for my response. I locked eyes with Coach Yoder who shook his head, telling me not to go where he knew I wanted to.

"I think it's unfair for a nigga like you to be able to press me while using this environment as a shield. Nigga like you would never come out yo' mouth like that to a nigga like me on the outside. But I will say, you better hope I don't have that shit on me next time I see you, cuz." I rose up and security stepped out, making themselves known. "I'm leaving. I ain't about to touch that nigga." I glared, more insulted that the security thought he could do anything to stop me from doing what the fuck I wanted to, even though I wasn't on that.

As I left out the room, ignoring people calling after me, I immediately shook my head at myself. My original plan was to keep a lid on my fucking temper and tailor my responses, but I knew myself, and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night thinking about the way that nigga talked his shit, disguising it as a professional question.

That gun situation still plagued me to this day, and the muthafucka brought it up purposely, never wanting muthafuckas to forget that Cemone Compton was violent and shouldn't be playing amongst the rest of these niggas. And foolishly, I gave his ass what he wanted.

I gathered my shit before Coach could come talk to me, and met my driver outside so I could head home. Yoder was already calling me as Jared pulled off, and usually I wouldn't answer, but I did.

"My bad." I picked up.

"You could've said worse, so I guess that's some improvement, but next time, Compton, answer with less curse words and much less threats. That clip of you basically telling him you'd shoot him is already making its rounds."

"I ain't say that."

"You implied it, and any fool knows what you meant."

Staring out the window, I huffed. "Yeah, aight. I'll work on it."

"Good. We have a media coach I want you to meet with. She can help you answer without feeling like a reporter has gotten the best of you. I will be in touch as to when she can meet."

"Mhm." I hung up.

Twenty minutes later, I was back at the hotel, and Sammie wasn't, so I hopped into the shower, then ordered room service, not in the mood to be out and about, especially with that new video clip running rampant and shit.

After smashing my food, my mind drifted to Yolani-land where it often resided, so I called her. To my surprise, she picked up the first time instead of having to call a nigga back.

"Hello?" she repeated since I didn't respond to the first greeting.

"I'm just shocked you picked up." I smirked, muting the TV.

"Not my fault you always call when I'm busy. Right now, I'm resting after rehearsing, so good on the timing." I could hear her smiling.

"So we can FaceTime then."

"Okay," she replied before I tapped the button to switch the call to video. "Why do you always study me like that?" She simpered.

"Trying to embed you in my fucking mind. You always on the move, so I ain't got no choice."

"Would you rather me be a regular girl, having an open schedule for you?"

"Nah. I like that you got yo' own shit going on. I ain't attracted to bum females," I admitted truthfully.

"Good." She nodded. "I forgot to thank you for listening to my advice and posting that photo of you and the kids. They are so cute."

"They are, but them be the bad ones." I tittered, thinking about them little niggas. In a perfect world, it would just me and them, minus their fucking mamas. But the world wasn't perfect. "I probably erased all that fucking progress though because of today."

"Oh Lord. Why?"

"Threatened a reporter during the postgame interview."

"Threatened him how?" She looked disappointed, and the sight made me glance at the muted TV for a moment.

"Told him he better hope I ain't have that thang on me next time I saw him."

"Cemone." She palmed her face. "I know your response wasn't out of nowhere, but you have to learn to stay calm and ignore people like him."

"I know." I nodded. "Gon' take me some time though." I watched her, golden hair disheveled, but it only heightened how fucking pretty she was. "Is that what it's gon' take for you to move forward?"

She mushed her lips together, thinking, and then replied, "For me to move forward, I need you to prove yourself."

"Fuck have I been doing?"

"I mean prove yourself with what matters. You say all the right things, do all the right things, but it's only in my presence. I need you to prove it to me when you're away from me."

"Explain." I sat up in the bed, throwing my legs off the side.

"Show me that you can behave yourself and not dip into everything with a slit." She bucked her eyes. "You want me, you can only deal with me in all ways."

Running my hand down my face, I asked, "So stay celibate until you decide to give it to me?"

"Yes." She raised a brow. "You don't get to know women emotionally, so I don't need to tell you not to do that. But fucking, yeah. You're not gonna be smashing different bitches and then come kicking it with me. You're either pursuing me or you're sleeping around; it's one or the other."

"Yolani—"

"My assistant, who monitors my social media eighty percent of the time, showed me a comment on my page from a girl who decided to tell me that her friend fucked you after the photos of you and I came out." She cut me off. "Now I already knew this because you told me, but the embarrassment has already started. So if you want to move forward with me and for me to take you serious, Cemone, I need to feel safe with you."

"You don't feel safe now?" I frowned.

"I feel safe physically, of course, but not emotionally, and I cannot put my career and emotions on the line for a man who can't take care of me in that way. I need you to show me you're serious about not being promiscuous and getting into a serious, very strict relationship."

I nodded, understanding, chuckling subtly at the strict shit.

"So put all my eggs in one basket."

"Those are the stipulations. And as much as you claim I'm the one and how I'm endgame, it should be fine. If you can't do what I'm asking of you, I won't be mad, but I need to know so we can go ahead and stop this before it really gets started. I have no problem waiting for a man who is mature enough to keep it in his pants, to be sure I'm safe and comfortable. So what's up, Cemone?"

She stared at me, brow hiked and full lips poking out a little bit.

"As always, it's whatever for you, Yolani."

"I'm not joking, Cemone. If you so much as flirt, I'm gonna be done with this."

"I only want you, Yolani. So you ain't got shit to worry about. I was biding my time with them other bitches, but if the prize at the end of this dry ass road is you, I'm with it."

"Good." She smiled brightly.