I was playing all types of games trying to keep O from finding out about James and Tariq, and vice versa. Whenever I wanted to spend time with one and not the others I would tell them I had to work. When I think about it now, though, I wasn’t really lying. Running game on James, O, and Tariq was a full-time job. But I handled it. Whenever one started questioning me about gifts and money, I’d tell him that I had a good commission month at Neiman’s or that I had gotten money wired to me from my mom and dad, who I said moved to Florida. They didn’t know that they were my good job and wealthy parents. And I made sure to spend a good deal of time with each of them, expressing interest in whatever he may have had going on at the time. Like for James, it was being at his games screaming and hollering, making it known that he was my man and I was there supporting him.

“Go, baby!” I screamed over the roaring crowd.

Me, Tina, and Khalil were at one of James’s games at the Liacouras Center. It was doin’ it too. It was one of the playoff games, so everybody came out to support. It was all types of girls on James. They saw dollar signs and fame just like I did. But they were mostly college girls from out of town with no sense of style or game. They knew not how to catch the big fish.

“Take it to the hoop, Jay!” Khalil shouted out.

Khalil was hugged up with Tina. They looked cute together, and the diamonds they flaunted helped, from their matching studded earrings down to their his-and-hers Cartier watches.

After the game we met James in the hallway leading to the locker room.

“You did good, baby,” I said as I kissed James on his sweaty cheek. He gripped my ass and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Yo dog, you on your way,” Khalil said, giving James a handshake hug that niggas do.

“Yeah, James, you good to be so bony,” Tina added.