OVERNIGHT

THE STARE DOWN

Deuce and Jroc strolled down the block, the sun hangin' low like it was tryin' to catch a vibe with the city. Jroc was still geeked' from that encounter with the redbone at the corner store. He couldn't stop grinnin', his swagger on a hundred. "Ayo, Deuce, you see how I slid her my number? She was feelin' me, no doubt. You think I got game or what?"

Deuce rolled his eyes, but a smirk crept on his face. "Game? Son if you got any game i taught you my dude. You ain't even ask her name, just went straight for the digits. You sure she ain't just tryna play you?"

"Man, shut up!" Jroc laughed, shoving Deuce playfully. "You just mad 'cause you ain't got no one hittin' your line. I'm 'bout to be rollin' with a queen, while you sittin' here with your video games."

"Whatever, bro. Just don't get too cocky. You know how these girls be," Deuce shot back, but inside, he was happy for his boy. Jroc deserved a little shine.

As they rounded the corner, the vibe shifted. A beat-up white van pulled up, the kind that screamed trouble. It was parked right in front of a complex up the block from deuce and a couple of dudes were hopin' out, all hooded up and lookin' like they meant business. Duffle bags and book bags in hand, they moved with a purpose that sent a chill through the air.

"Yo, what's up with that?" Deuce muttered, nodding toward the van. "Looks like they settin' up Trap." What else it look like

Jroc squinted, his playful mood fading. "Ain't no good come from that. We should just keep it movin'."Jroc was always the reason when he was with deuce.Jroc had his dad for part of his life and that's still his best friend he would say.

But it was too late. As they walked by, Deuce accidentally locked  eyes with one of the guys—a tall, built dude with a face that looked like it had seen too many fights. The air thickened, and time slowed down. It was like a scene straight outta a movie, the kind where you knew something was about to pop off.

The dude smirked, and for a second, Deuce thought he saw a flicker of respect in those eyes. But then it turned cold, like winter hit the block early. "What's up, pussy? You good?" he called out, flashing a gun with a 30 hanging out.

"Yo, what the hell?" Jroc said, pushing Deuce up the street. "Let's bounce, bro. What's your problem? Why you starin' at him like that?"

Deuce shook his head, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "I ain't scared, Jroc. I just—"

"Just what? You tryna get us killed over some street pride? That's not how we do it!" Jroc's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

They kept walking, but Deuce felt that dude's gaze burning into his back. The van was still there, and the guys were unloading bags like they owned the block. Jroc glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mix of concern and anger. "You need to learn when to pick your battles, man. We ain't got the heat for that."

Deuce finally broke the silence, his voice low. "You think they movin' in to sell? Like a trap house?"

"Looks like it. We don't need that kinda drama in our lives. We just tryin' to chill, not get caught up in some beef," Jroc replied, shaking his head.

As they walked further away, the tension began to ease, but Deuce couldn't shake the feeling. He glanced back one last time, catching the dude's eye again. This time, there was no smirk, just a cold, hard stare that promised trouble.

"Bro let's hop on the game again'. Clear our heads," Jroc suggested, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm still tryna celebrate my new queen."

"Yeah, alright," Deuce said, but his mind was elsewhere. Something was brewing in the neighborhood, and he could feel it in his bones. The city was always changin', but this felt different—darker.

As they turned the corner, the van faded from view, but the weight of that stare lingered. Deuce knew they had to keep their heads on straight but at the same time he knew this had nothing to do with him. He just didn't like dude calling him a pussy,