Love and Basketball Page #2

ZEKE, 32, with the height and ego of an NBA ballplayer,

enters. He laughs.

ZEKE:

Girl, who you trying to fool?

Quincy looks up, smiles. He quickly grabs a piece of

crumpled paper, and tosses it to Zeke.

QUINCY:

Alley-oop, Dad.

Nona intercepts his pass.

NONA:

Boy...

She points him back to his card. Quincy scowls, starts

writing again. Nona scoops some frosting on her finger,

holds it up.

NONA (cont'd)

New neighbors.

Zeke wraps his lips around her finger, sucks the frosting

off.

ZEKE:

See, Quincy, this is how your Moms caught

me, with the old fake and bake. Had me

thinking I was getting a sister who could

burn.

Nona laughs, pulls him down for a kiss. Quincy suddenly

throws down his pencil in frustration.

QUINCY:

I can't do this sh*t.

Zeke and Nona pull away, stare at Quincy in shock.

ZEKE:

Boy, what'd I tell you about using that

word?

QUINCY:

(sighs, then)

"Can't" should never be in a man's

vocabulary.

ZEKE:

Why not?

QUINCY:

Cause when you say can't, you ain't a

man.

ZEKE:

That's right.

NONA:

Zeke.

ZEKE:

What?

(then)

Oh, and, uh, don't say "sh*t."

Nona just shakes her head.

NONA:

We should head over.

ZEKE:

Just you and Quincy, baby. I got a

meeting.

NONA:

With who?

ZEKE:

Business folks.

NONA:

You just got back from a four game road

trip.

ZEKE:

Nona, don't start bitching. I got maybe

two years left to play. I'm just trying

to put some things together for us.

Zeke grabs his keys.

ZEKE (cont'd)

Later, Quincy.

QUINCY:

Later, Dad.

Zeke exits. Nona leans against the counter, concerned.

QUINCY (cont'd)

Mom?

NONA:

What?

QUINCY:

We still have to go?

NONA:

(beat)

Yeah.

INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Camille and Nona stand among the piles of boxes. Monica and

Quincy stand at their mothers' sides, stealing glances at

each other. A large bandage covers Monica's cheek. Monica

holds her card, Camille holds the cake.

NONA:

...we moved back here when Quincy was

about five, after Zeke was traded.

Neighborhood was a little more mixed

back then...

CAMILLE:

Until the Black family down the street

became the Black family next door.

NONA:

(nods)

Okay?

Camille tries to smooth down Monica's unruly hair. Monica

moves her head.

CAMILLE:

Well, thanks again. This was really nice

of you.

NONA:

It was the least we could do. And I love

to cook.

Quincy looks up at his Mom, surprised. She quickly hugs his

face into her stomach. Camille lights up.

CAMILLE:

Oh, me too. I used to cook for my

friends' parties and things back in

Atlanta.

NONA:

You're a caterer?

CAMILLE:

Well, no, but once Nathan gets settled

and the girls get a little older, it's

definitely something I want to do.

(then)

Since you love to cook, maybe it's

something we can talk about.

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