leg·end
1. a traditional story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated.
2. an extremely famous or notorious person, especially in a particular field.
When you look at Marcel Young (Vince Staples) you see an average height, sli...
We should all learn to love and respect one another. -Vince Staples
Matika Los Angeles, CA 3 Years Later
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I sat in the chair as a camera flashed in my face. It doesn't matter how many blogs, websites or magazines ask to do a photoshoot I'll never be comfortable with it. When people usually do good deeds, they want the accolades and the good jobs. I don't. I started my charity, Martyr or Murder? to help. The recognition is a plus as long as people know what I'm doing and will help.
"Relax your face," the photographer instructed.
"Can we speed this up...I left my husband with the kids. I would like to get home and it still be standing."
"Just two more." I took a deep sigh switching my pose then doing it again. As soon as I heard the second camera shutter I stood up.
"You said two more," I said walking off towards my best friend and assistant, Venita.
She had her hand raised so I gave her the high five she wanted as we kept walking. "You did that. You could be a full time model."
"That's funny," I said changing back into the clothes I came in.
"Is there a rush?" She asked as I put my YSL heels back on.
I grabbed my purse putting it on my forearm then moving my hair over my shoulder. "Actually yes. We're having a get together just to close out the summer. You should come. Bring the hubby too," I said as we walked out.
"Okay, I'll be there. See you later, Teek." She waved and I waved back as I unlocked the doors to my white Mercedes Benz GLS SUV.
I got in starting the car taking a deep breath. I closed my eyes looking down and when I opened them I noticed a car that wasn't there before sitting across the street. I only noticed it because I've always had a thing for old school muscle cars. Maybe because that's the only memory I really have of my Dad before he went in the pin.
For some reason I've been thinking about my Dad a lot lately. I don't know why because we have no relationship at all. I've thought about calling or writing him, but have yet to do it. It makes me think how different things would have been if Marcel was found guilty. I'm glad he wasn't though.
I stopped my staring about to put my seatbelt on when my phone started ringing. I looked at the screen on my dashboard seeing it was an unknown number. For some reason I pushed that answer button on my steering wheel anyway saying, "Hello? May I ask who this is?"
