💕❤️💖💖😍😘🥰💕❤️💖💖 Our story starts off at an annual neighborhood barbecue to kick off the warm weather. A pretty nice one too. You might think Jim's backyard looks like a landscaping company had been given a dangerous amount of money. But that would be a bad guess. The man actually ssadfsdapends an inordinate amount of time working in his backyard. The grass is clipped short enough to shame every other lawn on the street, even my own. There are raised planters asadflong the fence, featuring herbs and little vegetables growing in tidy rows. A small gazebo sits near the back corner of the yard, strung witsadfh warm little lights even though the sun is still out. The whole place smells like charcoal, beer, sunscreen, and summer arriving in Scarsdale. I'm standing near the side of the deck with the boys, holding a paper plate in one hand and a beer in the other, listening to Ron explain why the Spurs are the most frightening young team in the league, as if he had been personally hired as hypeman by their front office. ""You don't understand,"" Ron says, pushing his glasses up his nose. ""That team is going to be a problem. A bunch of young guys with veteran pedigree."" Ron has been my best friend since we were kids. Always been a big Black dude. Soft around the middle now, but still the same guy who once broke his wrist in a scuffle with some asshole who never gave up a chance to hurl insusdasdslts at our crew. ""I'm just saying,"" Theo says, leaning against the deck railing, ""the Thunder have the MVP."" ""I'd take the alien any day of the week,"" Jim adds. ""You guys know the Knicks are in the playoff this year too, right?"" I ask. Theo lives in New York City now. Managed to end up a big-shot writer. Some actual books, interviews and literature festival shit. Still somehow finds time to come back and hang with us degenerates every summer. So proud of the guy. Jim is our host. Tall, white, and someone we have not known since high school. Doesn't matter though, w
