Page 112 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“Man, fuck them people. They don’t know what the fuck they talking about.”

“So, you and wifey good?” another one of my teammates asked as we walked over.

“We great.”

“I figured.” He laughed. “’Cause your ass ain’t shut the fuck up about her since you married her.”

“And I ain’t gon’ shut the fuck up, either.”

“Yeah, we know.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Speaking of crazy shit, though,” Maurice said, his expression changing. “You heard what happened to Jamal?”

I kept my face straight.

“Nawl. What happened?”

“They found that nigga tied up, strangled, and shot in the head. Had his ass laid out in a fucking ditch.”

My brows shot up. “What the fuck, bruh?”

Damn. Marvin and Zeek had really did a lil’ one-two on his ass.

From the way they made it sound when they called me, I knew Jamal wasn’t coming back. I just ain’t know they had done his ass like that.

Still, whatever reaction I had to that shit needed to stay right where it was. The less I knew, the better.

“Yeah.” Maurice shook his head. “Word around town is he owed some people money. Supposedly, they came to collect, he ain’t have shit, and you see how that happened.”

“Fuck.” I shook my head slowly. “See? That’s why you gotta watch who the fuck you get involved with.”

And if that was the story floating around, as far as I was concerned, that was exactly what the fuck happened.

“Nawl, for real.” Maurice looked toward the field before turning back to me. “Yeah, but me and wifey gotta handle some business later. After that, shit, probably grab something to eat and chill at the crib.”

“Bet.” I dapped him up before doing the same with the rest of the guys.

“Aight, bruh. Be easy.”

“Always.”

I headed off the field and made my way toward the parking lot, but before I got too far, I stopped and looked back.

The whistle blew again, and everybody took off as the next drill started. My fingers flexed at my side.

Damn, I missed this shit.

The practices. The locker room. Talking shit with the guys. Sunday with thousands of people screaming while I lined up across from some poor muthafucka who thought he could guard me.

Football had been my life too fucking long for me not to feel its absence. But for the first time since I got shot, getting back out there didn’t feel like some shit sitting way off in the distance.

I was getting closer. And when they finally turned my ass loose? Yeah. The whole fucking league was gon’ remember exactly who the fuck #21 was.

When I got to the house, Sianni’s ass was already dressed and ready to go. Funny how it ain’t take her long to get ready when she actually had somewhere to be.

“Wassup, baby?” I greeted as I walked inside.