! BOOK TWO OF THE NAS TRILOGY !
What do you give a man who has everything? The Bridge. Nasir "Nas" Jones is now a household name with a reputable catalogue and an enigmatic aura around him. With fallen soldiers at his feet, friendships at stake and...
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"Allen, how you plan to spend your off-season?"
Reporters extended their microphones in Allen's face as he stood before them—stiff as a board. A cheeky smile spread wide across his face as he answered the various media outlets.
"Well, uh, I'm going to spend it with my family. Family is everything to me. Of course, my lady right there, we're going to hop on a jet ski or something. Make it feel like the Hypnotize music video." Allen joked as he pointed in my direction.
After the police investigation finally came to a close in the middle of April, Allen was finally off of the bench and back on the court to finish the season off strong. Though he was so close to making it to a championship, he still played hard and gave it his all, despite what had been happening.
His friend, the body guard, took the rap for gun fire and was only given probation and charged a fine for using a firearm that wasn't "registered" under his name. He said it was better than getting shipped to corrections. Allen paid for his legal fees and covered half of this fine.
Nasir covered the other half—surprisingly.
Tyler survived the shooting and was freed from police custody. He flew back to Chicago and sent a letter to my home saying that he 'wasn't finished'. Whatever the fuck that means.
Standing beside me was Stacy. Her Dior saddle bag was black leather and hooked gracefully over her slender shoulder. Her curls were back to the natural color she was born with—sandy blonde. Her make up was soft and appeared as if she barely had on any.
Her pleated mini skirt was black and her black J'adore Dior was tailored to fit crop against her slim torso. She tossed her manicured fingers through her coils and smiled at the mention of me from Allen's response to the news reporters.
The baby tee I chose to wear is plain white and cropped. My jeans were Evisu, a gift from my stylist. Not many of my friends in the industry were hip to the Japanese brand. The Daicock design was unique on the back and baggy in fit. They clung low on my bikini line, staying snug against my hipbones.
I pushed my curtain bangs away from my lashes as I focused my attention on Allen.
"I know a traumatic event took place involving you and your special 'lady'." The reported said in reference to the shooting at my loft.
"How is everything for you both?" The man looked at me and then back to Allen. Allen's eyes searched for consent to speak on the matter. I nodded my head as a signal for him to proceed.
"We're taking it day by day. My lady is safe and so is her family, that's all that matters." Allen smiled faintly before raising his right hand up to halt any further questions.
"Thank y'all." Allen said aloud as he squeezed through the crowd of suited up reporters and journalists. He extended his arm to grab my hand. Our fingers interlocked quickly as he trudged forward out of the arena with Stacy nearby behind us.
