My Slime

01. We$t Coast Waitin'

Somewhere in LA

The sun was setting behind the LA skyline, casting a warm glow over the basketball court. Chris wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the pavement and the thud of the ball echoed in the air. He hadn't played in weeks, and getting back into the game felt good. A distraction. Something he desperately needed.

The past month had been a whirlwind—between wrapping up his tour, balancing time with his kids, his budding romance with Gigi and the media storm that followed them everywhere. Every day seemed like damage control. But out here, on the court, everything felt distant. The problems, the tension, the lies. It was just him and the ball.

"Yo, Breezy! You good?" one of the guys called, tossing the ball to him.

Chris caught it, nodding. "Yeah, I'm straight. Let's run it."

As they resumed their pick-up game, Chris's mind drifted, zoning out to the rhythm of the game. It wasn't until he heard a familiar voice that his focus snapped back.

"Well if it ain't my brudda Breezy!"

Chris turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Rico. Standing at the edge of the court, his hands casually tucked in his Celine jeans right next to his red bandana. Eyes locked on Chris. The same Rico who hadn't spoken to him in weeks, not since everything had gone down.

The ball fell from Chris's hands, rolling to the side as the air between them grew heavy. Rico's face was unreadable, a mix of calm and tension. This wasn't a random run-in. Rico didn't just "happen" to be at this court. He was here for a reason.

One of the guys spoke up, oblivious to the tension. "Aye, Rico, you tryna run with us?"

Rico shook his head, his gaze never leaving Chris. "Nah, I'm good. Just came to talk to my boy real quick."

Chris wiped his hands on his shorts, feeling the weight of Rico's stare. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other in public since the fallout—at events, in passing—but this was different. This was the first time they were face-to-face, and Chris knew they couldn't avoid what needed to be said any longer.

"Y'all mind givin' us a minute?" Chris asked, his voice steady but firm. The guys exchanged glances, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, before quietly stepping off the court, giving them space.

Now it was just them. The silence between them felt louder than the noise of the city.

Rico stepped onto the court, his expression still unreadable. "Figured I'd find you here."

Chris nodded, keeping his eyes on Rico. "You know where I be."

They stood there for a second, the distance between them thick with unspoken words.

"You been good?" Rico asked, his tone casual, but Chris could hear the tension beneath it.

"Yeah," Chris said slowly, wiping more sweat from his brow. "Busy. You?"

Rico shrugged. "Same shit. Work, life, tryna keep shit together."

Chris felt the tension rising again, the unspoken weight of everything that had happened hanging between them. Rico's calm demeanor only made it worse—like he wasn't sure if they were about to fight or hug it out.

"You wanna say what you gotta say, or we just gon' stand here and look at each other?" Chris finally broke the silence.

Rico's jaw clenched, and for the first time since he'd walked onto the court, his expression hardened. "I ain't here to fight, man. I just wanna know why."