"Leave that. I'll take care of it tomorrow," James called out when he saw his friend in the garden, gathering up the empty bottles and paper plates.
The party had ended late; the guests were gone, and the laughter had faded into the still night air.
Dranred shook his head. "It's fine. It's not exactly hard work."
James walked over, stooping to help. "I'll never understand you. Your family's loaded, and you're famous, but you actually like cleaning up. You planning to be a garbage collector?" he teased.
Dranred laughed and tossed an empty soda can at him. James caught it easily and dropped it into a bin.
"Idiot," Dranred said, shaking his head.
For a moment, they worked quietly, the faint hum of crickets filling the silence. Then Dranred tilted his head back.
"You can actually see the stars from here," he said softly, gazing up at the autumn sky. The stars glimmered faintly through the cool haze, like fallen leaves caught between light and darkness.
James looked up too, following his line of sight. "You're just noticing that now? Guess it's because you've never been out this far before."
A grin tugged at his lips. "When I become a pro — a real professional basketball player — do you think I'll have as many fans as there are stars up there?"
Dranred chuckled. "It's not impossible. You've got the skill… and people like you."
James smirked. "And you? Are you taking that offer from the major league? Not everyone gets a chance like that."
"I don't know yet," Dranred replied quietly. "You know I'm not the only one who makes decisions for my life."
James sighed. "That's a shame. If I had your talent, I wouldn't waste a second thinking about it."
"Your pro basketball draft is coming up, isn't it?" Dranred asked. "If you get picked, that means you won't go through with—"
"I already talked to Dad," James interrupted. "He said he'll respect whatever I decide. He knows how much basketball means to me."
"That's good to hear," Dranred said, nodding.
James studied his friend for a moment, then said softly, "From the look on your face, I'm guessing things still aren't good between you and your grandfather. He's still against what you're doing, huh?"
Dranred gave a small, tired smile. "That's not going to change. As long as I keep going against what he wants, we'll never see eye to eye."
"Why do you always have to pick a fight with your grandpa? You challenge him more than his political rivals do," James joked.
Dranred let out a quiet laugh. "I told you before — I just don't agree with how he runs things." He bent down to pick up the last few scraps of paper, his tone turning thoughtful. "Sometimes… I think he forgets people aren't pieces on a chessboard."
Before James could reply, his father stepped out from the house, already in uniform.
"Oh, come on. It's late — why are you two still cleaning?" the Lieutenant asked, glancing at the mess that had already been mostly cleared.
"Got somewhere to go, Dad?" James asked.
"I have something to take care of," his father said, adjusting his cap before turning to Dranred. "Dranred, I'll give you a ride home."
Dranred straightened up and nodded. "Thank you, sir."
As they headed toward the gate, James waved lazily. "Don't forget your glove next time, Mr. Major League."
Dranred smiled faintly. "Only if you don't forget your draft."
The Lieutenant started the car, and as Dranred glanced back at the house — lights dimmed, laughter long faded — he caught a glimpse of the open night sky.
Above him, the stars burned bright and countless.
For a moment, he wondered if even they had someone telling them how to shine.
When Dranred finished saying goodbye to his friend, he joined James's father — Lieutenant Alonzo — who had offered to drive him home. Before leaving, the officer told his son, "Stay here, James. Watch over your mother and sisters."
The car rolled through the quiet streets, the glow of the dashboard reflecting faintly across their faces. Outside, the night was calm, broken only by the hum of the engine and the distant sound of crickets.
"Did you tell James," Dranred began, his eyes fixed on the passing streetlights, "that you're the one handling my grandfather's case?"
The Lieutenant shook his head. "He doesn't know. He doesn't even know there's a case involving your grandfather."
"That's good," Dranred replied quietly.
After a moment, the officer spoke again. "Things will get messy when the media starts digging into this. Are you ready for that?"
Dranred's tone stayed calm. "I'm not my grandfather, sir. Whatever he's done, I have nothing to do with it." He paused, glancing toward the man at the wheel. "What about you? Will you be safe? This case isn't an easy one. Your family might be in danger."
The Lieutenant gave a short, dry laugh. "You talk like you know a lot more than you should." Then, more seriously, "Don't worry. I can protect my family. But you — when this scandal breaks, life will get hard for you."
"I can handle myself," Dranred said. "And like I told you, I'm not my grandfather. Whatever happens to him, I'm staying out of it."
The Lieutenant cast him a sidelong glance. "I just hope you're not saying that out of rebellion. No matter what happens, he's still your grandfather. Blood is blood. You can't just turn your back on him because you see the world differently."
Dranred's gaze hardened slightly. "The law doesn't recognize blood, does it? Just because we share the same name doesn't mean I can excuse his crimes. My grandfather and I — we've never seen eye to eye. He's always known I stand against what he does. Maybe that's why we'll never get along — because I'm the one thing standing in his way."
The Lieutenant chuckled softly. "You're the only man I know who openly goes against his own grandfather." His smile faded into something gentler. "You know, I'm glad James has you as a friend."
Dranred's expression softened. "I'm glad I met him too… and you, sir. You remind me of the kind of family I used to dream of — one I know I'll never have."
For a moment, silence filled the car again, heavy but warm.
The Lieutenant glanced at Dranred — a good young man caught in the shadow of another man's sins. He felt a pang of pity and quiet admiration. If he could protect him, he would. Somewhere in his heart, he already thought of Dranred as another son.