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Nico explained that he had to shoot to Miami in the morning for Mia’s photo shoot for J. Lo and that he would get up with me as soon as he got back.
“Oh, so she models? I did a couple of music videos, and I’m trying to get heavier into modeling,” I told him.
“Yeah, that’s what’s up. Yo, I gotta bounce. I’ll get with you, though.”
“Oh, OK.”
Nico randomly asked, “You still grown, right?”
“What did you say?” I could tell my smile was detectable through the phone.
“You know what I’m asking you.”
I paused before replying. “I gotchu,” I said with a slight chuckle.
Nico added, “That’s all I needed to know,” before we ended the call.
I was feeling flattered because I knew Nico wanted to sex me, and I couldn’t wait to put it on his sexy ass. Plus, with Mia talking shit, it just gave me more incentive to fuck her man and prove I could have him if I wanted him.
CHAPTER 11
Nico
Although I was now living really comfortable on the North Shore of Long Island, I was originally from the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Since I was from the streets, I was familiar with South Jamaica, Queens, where I was headed to meet Jasmine so that I could bring her to my man’s auto body shop to take care of the damage to her father’s car. Jasmine had sent me a text message with her address, and I gave the address to my driver and reclined in the backseat of my all-black Maybach Landaulet until we reached 109th Avenue, right off Guy R. Brewer Boulevard.
“Jasmine, you live in a white house?” I asked just to confirm I was in the right spot. I had already circled the block to make sure Shabazz wasn’t laying in the cut somewhere waiting to set my ass up.
“Yeah, on One Hundred and Ninth Avenue. One block from Forty projects.”
“No doubt. So, yo, I’m outside your crib. You ready?”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be right out.”
From behind the curtain of my rear window, I was able to see when Jasmine finally came out of her house. She looked around to see where I was parked, but she had no idea which car I was in. I pulled back the curtain that hid my face from the public, rolled down the window, and called her name. I got her attention.
Jasmine quickly walked across the street. She was wearing a nice short black leather coat, jeans, and construction Timberland boots.
“Wow! Look at you, looking all presidential and e’rythang.” Jasmine chuckled. “I love this car! Let me find out you a quarterback for the New York Jets or something.” Jasmine knew I was getting money. “And I can’t believe you got a driver!”
Ignoring her last comment, I asked, “So you got the car? I don’t see it,” I said through the window, not making a move to get out of my vehicle.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s in the garage.”
“OK, so pull out and follow my car. The spot ain’t too far. It’s on Merrick in Valley Stream, right near Rosedale.” I turned my attention toward my driver. “Henry we’re going to City Autobody. Also the Lexus with the pretty young lady will be following us, so be mindful.”
“Yes sir.”
It took us all of ten minutes to arrive at the body shop. When we arrived, Henry parked, got out and made his way to my door, and opened it for me. I walked up to Jasmine, who was in the driver’s seat, parked behind my car, and told her to pull up to the bay off to the far right. After she did that, I signaled for her to turn off the engine and to come to me.
As Jasmine walked toward me, I couldn’t help but notice and reconfirm just how sexy she was. The last time I had seen her, it was in a dark nightclub. She had looked good that night, but that night she was dressed sexier.
I always liked when a chick could rock sweat pants and socks or any other regular-looking outfit like Jasmine was presently wearing and still look good. It was about one in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly, so I was able to get a really good look at what she was working with. I could tell that she had some hoodrat tendencies, but that didn’t detract from the fact that she was just naturally beautiful and had a body that wouldn’t quit. And she also had a sexy walk.
“You rocking Timbs just because I’m rocking ’em,” I teasingly said to Jasmine. I had on a brand new pair of True Religion jeans, a brand-new long-sleeve button-up Burberry polo shirt, and a leather coat.
Jasmine smiled but didn’t say anything.
As we made our way into the shop, I informed Jasmine, “My man Tony owns this spot. He’s an Italian dude from Howard Beach. He’s cool as hell. I already told him I was coming through with you.”
