The night was heavy with humidity, the kind that made even breathing feel like effort. Kyle sat on the balcony of his cousin Omar's apartment, overlooking a patchwork of zinc roofs and dim streetlights flickering against the black sky. He couldn't shake the voice from that anonymous call. The way it carried weight, familiarity, danger.

It wasn't just a threat—it was an invitation.

And Kyle hated himself for knowing he couldn't ignore it.

OmarInside, Omar poured two glasses of white rum and stepped out to the balcony. He handed one to Kyle and sat down.

"Bruh," Omar said, taking a sip, "I tell yuh already. This ain't Boston. This ain't the NBA. Jamaica have a memory longer than time, and every step you take, it feel like people watching."

Kyle leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You saying I shouldn't even ask questions?"

Omar shrugged. "Questions? Questions easy. Answers is the problem. Derrick name still carry weight out here, but not the kinda weight you want."

Kyle's jaw tightened at the name. His father was a ghost—always present, never seen.

Omar continued. "Man like him don't vanish unless him choose to vanish. If he want you to find him, he'd step out. If he don't…" Omar shook his head. "Then maybe you best leave it."

But Omar's eyes betrayed something—fear, but also curiosity. As if even he wanted to know what happened, though he'd never say it outright.

Coach TThe next morning, Kyle went back to the Trench Town courts, this time without cameras or a production crew. Just him, a ball, and the sound of sneakers on cracked pavement. Kids swarmed him at first, asking for autographs, but when he waved them off gently, they settled to watch.

After a while, Coach T walked over, his limp more pronounced in the daylight. He watched Kyle drain jumper after jumper before speaking.

"You work too hard for a man who already have ring," Coach T said with a grin.

Kyle chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Work don't stop."

Coach T leaned against the fence, serious now. "The voice you hear on the phone, you think that was random? Nah, youth. These streets still run by networks you don't see. And Derrick Wilson? Him not dead. Not missing. Just… shifted."

Kyle stopped dribbling. "Shifted how?"

Coach T looked out at the horizon, like he was weighing every word. "You ever hear about men who live between two worlds? Not dead, not alive. Not straight, not crooked. Derrick live there. He learn how to move like smoke. And if him reach out to you—or let somebody reach for him—then maybe he ready for you to know."

Kyle didn't know if Coach T was speaking in riddles or truth. But something about the way he said it made Kyle's chest tighten.

Nichola's Sister – Aunt MarvaThat evening, Kyle visited his Aunt Marva, his mother's sister, in Spanish Town. She was shorter than Nichola, with the same sharp cheekbones, but her eyes were tired from years of carrying burdens too heavy. She hugged him long at the door, whispering, "Mi proud of yuh, nephew. Proud."

Over dinner, Kyle finally asked. "Aunty… what do you remember about Derrick?"

Marva froze with her fork mid-air. "Why you asking that now?"

"Because I'm here. Because I need to know."

Marva sighed. "Your father… Derrick was charm and danger wrapped together. Everybody loved him, even when they knew they shouldn't. Nichola tried to save him from himself, but some men already belong to the shadows. When he disappeared, I wasn't surprised."

Kyle stared at her. "You think he's still alive?"

Marva's hand trembled as she set her fork down. "Alive? Yes. But the question is, in what way? And for who?"

KyleThat night, back in Kingston, Kyle lay awake. The pieces were circling—Omar's warnings, Coach T's riddles, Aunt Marva's quiet fear.

Derrick Wilson wasn't just a man who left. He was a story, a myth, a force that people still spoke about in whispers.

And now, for the first time, Kyle felt like he was being drawn into that myth—not as a spectator, but as a participant.

The phone buzzed on the nightstand. An unlisted number again.

Kyle answered without hesitation.

"You still looking, boy?" the same voice growled.

Kyle's throat tightened. "Who is this?"

Silence. Then:

"Your father watching. That's all you need know—for now."

The line cut dead.

Kyle sat there, heart pounding, staring into the dark.

For the first time, he realized Jamaica wasn't just pulling him back home.

It was pulling him into Derrick's world.

And there was no guarantee he'd come out the same.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.