Page 35 of Pills and Potions: Kase
Tuesday wheezed.“Uncalled for?” Tuesday gasped. “She read you like a bedtime story!”
Kase adjusted the mirrors. “I just don’t like rushing anymore.”
Tuesday stared at him. “Nigga, since when?! You usually drive like you in Mario Kart.”
“I’m evolving,” he said calmly.
Jace leaned forward. “Nah. You tweaking. What’s next? You gon’ start volunteering at libraries and takin’ vitamins? Something not right with you. You been off.”
Kase kept his eyes on the road. “I’m chillin’. Y’all doing the most.”
Tuesday laughed. “Nah, he got the nerve to be soft-spokenandslow driving? Something isdefinitelywrong.”
I just smiled and shrugged like I didn’t know a damn thing, knowingexactlywhat kind of magic was working overtime in that front seat. I was watching the potion do its job, turning the most reckless man I knew into a full-blown safety patrol officer with feelings and fun facts. And me, I was documenting everything. We got to Topgolf, and from the jump, I knew it was gonna be a disaster. Kase stepped up to the tee like he was aboutto knock a baseball into orbit. His stance looked like he was bracing for a fight.
“Hold up,” I said. “Why you standin’ like you tryna throw hands with the ball?”
“I’m locked in,” he muttered, rollin’ his shoulders like he had beef with gravity.
When he swung, that golf club flew straight out his hand. Spiraled in the air like a ninja weapon. Some poor man had to duck like he was in a Marvel movie.
Tuesday screamed. “HE GOT GOLF PTSD!”
Jace hollered. “Kase, what in the windmill-assault was THAT?”
Kase just stood there, arms limp, lookin’ like the turf betrayed him. “Ain’t no way. This place rigged.”
I pulled out my phone. “Didn’t even hit the ball, but the club got airtime. Iconic.”
Then it got worse. Jace turned to walk back and tripped. He hit the turf hard, like the ancestors yanked him down for disrespectin’ the game.
“Oh my God!” I screamed, laughing so hard my knees buckled. “You good?!”
He stayed on the ground like a sad Sims character. “I’m straight. Just lettin’ the earth hold me. It’s cool.”
Tuesday bent over. “Y’all. Is THIS what growth looks like? I’m scared.”
Jace wheezed. “Bro… you takin’ drugs? You need help? Should I call Mom?”
Kase looked genuinely lost, like he couldn’t figure out why his swag left the building.
“You want help?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“Hell no. You gon’ laugh if I mess up?”
“Absolutely.”
He sighed. “Aight. Bet. But don’t tell nobody.”
“Nigga, we can SEE you got no game,” Tuesday cackled. “Mr. My Ass Hit the Turf.”
Kase ignored them while I stepped behind him, adjusted his grip, and talked soft in his ear like I hadn’t been his invisible crush for years. Then he hit the ball. It rolled, maybe twelve feet. But you couldn’t tell him nothin’.
“Told you I had it, Blyss,” he grinned, throwing in a wink.
The wink didn’t wink.
“Nigga, what’s wrong with your eye?” Jace burst out laughing.
