Page 182 of K.I.N.: Karma Is Near

This little nigga had lost his fucking mind.

“Go put some clothes on.”

His eyebrows went up. “For what?”

“We going to the gym.”

“Pop, I was joking.”

“I’m not.”

He laughed as I got up.

“Nah, because when I cook you, I don’t wanna hear nothing about your knees.”

“My knees?”

“Or prison messing up your jumper.”

I stopped walking.

“Yeah. Definitely put your fucking clothes on.”

About forty-five minutes later, we were walking into the gym.

Henry had his basketball tucked under his arm, talking shit the whole way through the lobby.

The little nigga was tall now too. About six-two, curly fro he kept shaped up close on the sides, athletic as hell. Abs, long arms, built like somebody who actually used his body instead of just lifting weights for Instagram.

Played basketball.

Ran track.

And was good at both.

Good enough that college wasn’t gonna cost me shit if he kept his head on straight.

He already had scholarship offers from Rutgers and Seton Hall, with a couple more schools sniffing around him.

Proud wasn’t even the word.

My son was a handsome little nigga too.

That came easy.

Obviously.

“Why you smiling?” Henry asked.

“Thinking about how lucky you got genetically.”

He looked at me.

“From Moms?”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

He laughed.