[Bad As Ever || Book 2]

23°

» "you don't know how much
you've helped me grow..."

Miami, FL;

Bryson got into his car after getting the food for Kelly, on his way to the hospital.

His placed his key in the ignition and there was a delay before the radio turned on. It was low, but Bryson soon noticed the familiar beat.

He turned the knob slowly, a wide grin appearing on his face with notch.

"...play with her, don't be dishonest. Still not understanding this logic. Aye, I'm back and I'm bet—"

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" He shouted happily, rocking back and forth in his seat, his hands covering his mouth in disbelief.

He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, going to Paris' contact.

"Hello?" She yawned.

"Oh my God! Paris, my song is on the fuckin' radio!" He said excitedly, "Here, listen..."

He turned up the radio so that it could be heard through the phone before turning it down again.

"Wow, baby. That's amazing. I'm so proud of you." She said, her response a little drier than Bryson expected.

"Damn, you're kinda killing my vibe, babe." Bryson chuckled, wrapping his seat belt around him.

"I'm sorry, Bryson. I'm happy for you, really. I'm just tired." She explained, sighing deeply.

"You're always tired. It ain't healthy to be sleeping all the time. Get out and do something, it ain't Miami but there's still stuff to do other than sleep." He informed her.

"Yea, you're right." She replied simply.

"I miss you..." He spoke, turning out of the parking lot of the Subway shop," I miss you sooo much."

"I miss you too, Bryson." She said.

"How is your day going?" He asked, flicking his turning signal on.

"It's been good, how about yours?"

"Pretty good. I was in the studio earlier and now I'm on my way to the hospital to take Kelly some food." He explained.

"Is she ok?" Paris asked, concern in her voice.

"Yea, she's alright. Just some old injury acting up." He shrugged.

"Oh alright, tell her that I said get well soon." She yawned again.

"Alright," he laughed, "Go back to bed, sleepyhead."

>>>>>

"Hi, sir. How may I help you?" A nurse at the desk asked.

"I'm here to see Kelly Gonzalez..."

She nodded and typed the name into her computer, "Kelly Gonzalez, room 215."

"Aight, thanks. Aye— I heard about a suicide gone wrong or something." He said in more of a questioning tone.

"Ah, yea. Poor girl... She's hanging in there. It's sad something like that even happened, especially to someone as pretty as Daphne." She said, shaking her head.