My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I pulled off, my heart still beating faster than it should’ve.
The TV flickeredwith some postgame analysis I couldn’t give a fuck about. The light from the screen hit the table, the remote, and my phone sitting face down beside me. I shifted against the leather, and the sling pulled across my chest.
Sianni stayed on my mind. The way she looked earlier, all innocent and shit, like she ain’t know what she was doing. Her body was saying something completely different. The way she was breathing changed when I got close. The way she bit her bottom lip, like she ain’t even realize she was doing it.
Then my mind went right back to that other part. She snapped back at me. My jaw tightened a little as I thought about it. Most females would’ve folded when I checked them. They’d get quiet and try to fix it. But not her. Nawl, she was a different story. Shorty came right back at me like she had something to prove, like she wasn’t scared at all.
I leaned my head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling fan, running my fingers over my head slowly. The look she had and the way her voice stayed steady, how she wouldn't back down. That shit had me locked in for real.
I reached for the remote and flipped through channels. Basketball. News. Some cooking show. Nothing held.
My phone buzzed against the leather. Thomas lit up the screen. Could be my agent, could be the nigga from my team. I snatched it up. Both of them had the same name.
“Yeah.”
“You see this?” he asked, getting straight to it.
It was my agent.
My brows slightly pulled together. “See what?”
There was a pause, then, “You need to get your girl.”
My whole body went still. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”
“Paparazzi all around her, and that shit is already hitting the blogs.”
I slowly sat up, the room going quiet around me. “What?”
“I’m looking at it right now,” he continued. “They’re asking her about the shooting, about you, hell, about everything. You ain’t got security with her?”
My grip tightened around the phone. “Nawl.”
“Well, you might wanna fix that before this shit gets out of hand.”
The call ended, and I sat there for a second, staring at nothing, before reaching for the remote again and flipping to a sports channel. It didn’t take long for the clip to appear—Sianni and Drayla trying to get to the car, cameras flashing in her face, reporters crowding her like she was the story.
“Fuck.”
I pushed off the couch, pacing as I dragged my hand over my face. My arm pulled against the sling, and I hissed low, but that shit didn’t slow me down. I grabbed my phone, pulled up hername, and hit call. It rang and rang. I sucked my teeth, ended the call, then tried again, but there was still nothing.
My chest rose slowly and controlled, but the tension was building fast. I wasn’t even mad at her. I was mad they even got that close.
I snatched my keys off the table, already moving, and paused when my eyes dropped to the sling… “Fuck.” I stood there for a second before turning and dropping back onto the couch, running my hand over my face.
I took my phone from my pocket, dialed the number that I needed, and lifted the phone to my ear, my eyes dragging across the room. The line barely rang before it clicked.
“Aye, yo. Wassup? You good?” Smoke’s voice came through, like always.
A low chuckle slipped out of me. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good,” he said, his tone shifting just enough. “I heard what happened. You know who did it?”
A sharp smile touched my lips, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
Smoke exhaled a heavy breath. “Bet. So, who is it?”
I leaned forward with my elbow on my knees, dragging my tongue across my teeth before I answered.
