The Girl of His Dreams by Amir Abrams

Author:Amir Abrams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

21

Antonio

Real rap, basketball is my first love. Heck, my only love. And I know I should be focused on perfectin’ my dunks, ’n’ layups, ’n’ crossovers so I can get up in the NBA. And on some real ish, there really should be no time for chicks. But there always is. Even when I don’t want there to be, they’re in my face heavy on the regular, checkin’ for a dude like me. And, yeah, some’a them broads don’t even deserve to have me in their beds. I know it the minute they drop their clothes, that I ain’t got no business givin’ them a taste of this Lopez lovin’. But I do, anyway. And sometimes I end up kickin’ myself, like I’ve been doin’ wit’ Quanda over the last few weeks. And now this . . .

“So, you wanna explain ya’self?” Pops says, eyein’ me mad hard. The minute I step through the door. There’s smoke comin’ outta his ears, that’s how heated he is right now. My stomach drops to my feet, along wit’ the spinnin’ ball I have up on one finger. This ain’t what I expected to see—Tiffany ’n’ her parents sittin’ on the sofa. But here they are! And this is how my day ends. The minute I see their faces, I feel sick. They’re starin’ me down. Well, not Tiffany. She’s lookin’ down at her hands in her lap.

“I’m waitin’,” Pops snaps. “Don’t have me ask you again, boy.”

“I-I . . . uh,” I stutter, lookin’ from him to trick-azz Tiffany to her suited-up pops to her Mary Kay-caked-faced moms.

“Don’t stand there stutterin’, boy. This girl’s parents tell me you done got their daughter pregnant. Is it true?”

“No, it ain’t true. Pops, you know me, dawg. I ain’t go in raw, yo.”

“You a lie!” Tiffany snaps, coverin’ her face in her hands. “You told me you was gonna get me pregnant. You told me you wanted me to have your baby.”

“You a damn lie,” I snap back. “I ain’t never wanna have no seed wit’ you, yo. Yo, Pops, this skank broad’s lyin’!”

“Now hold on a minute, son,” her pops says, loosenin’ the knot in his blue, pinstriped tie. He’s already outta his suit jacket. His starched white shirt is buttoned up to his thick neck. “I’m not gonna let you stand there and talk disrespectful about my daughter. Now, did you and my daughter have sex?”

I nod. “Yessir. But we always used condoms.”

“That’s not what I asked you, son. I asked if the two of you were having sex. Now, I want to know where the two of you were having it.”

“Daddy, I—”

“Not a word,” he warns Tiffany, shootin’ her a dirty look. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, young lady, bringing shame to our name. I’m a deacon in a church for God’s sake. This is not how your mother and I raised you.” He turns his attention back to me. And Pops is shootin’ me mad rocks. I can tell he’s ready to bring it to my head.

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