We arrive without another word being said. The two story house towers over all the rest and has 4 times as many cars. The music from the party that is already underway pumps and rocks the house and all its surroundings as the neighborhood piles into Justin's house. They come for the party after the game; they come to celebrate for the team, for us.
Nikki expertly parks the car by backing in without losing speed. My car is surrounded by teammates, friends, and people I know who I wouldn't really call my friends. As we step out of the car I look at what I'm wearing, my Football jersey from tonight (black and red with the number 36 on the front and "Villalonga" on the back) and dark black jeans and my famous red and black shoes…. Cool. I look at my mustang with its black shining body and two red sport stripes, custom rims and tinted windows….Cool. I look at the party , the mass of about 500 people, the booming deafening music…..cool, yeah tonight is going to be a good night.
'Yo man good game" "You the man" "Way to own them Falcons you going All Pro for sure" I hear this out of a number of compliments. I smile and say things like "I'm no one without my team" "Yeah we had a great game" "I just do my part" always not wanting to take credit for our victory (just not me). Justin walks up wearing a "Packour" shirt and a pair of black jean shorts that fall below his knees with K-Swiss and a Tupac bandana. His shoulder length hair pulled back by his bandana.