11. Zaraa
D ream and I had been tight since college, back when life felt like a series of endless possibilities. We stripped at the same clubs for money in college, but she was the focused one. The girl who always had her head in the books, determined to make something of herself. Me? I was the friend who didn’t mind getting my hands dirty―the one who handled drama and made sure nobody messed with her.
But life didn’t pan out the same for us both. I dropped out of college halfway through, while Dream went on to collect her degrees like trophies. She was the type to chase her dreams with tunnel vision while I spent my days trying to figure out how to hustle my way through life. Still, we stayed close. No matter how different our paths were, Dream and I always had each other.
At least, that’s how it used to be.
Lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Dream was leaving me behind. Her life with Damier had shifted from being some made-for-TV fairytale to a real one, and I couldn’t help but feel like an extra in her story. She had the billionaire boyfriend, the penthouse, the high life—and I was still scraping by in my tiny apartment in Burbank, wondering if I’d ever catch a break.
I hated that I felt this way. Dream was my best friend, and she deserved every good thing that came her way. But there was a small, ugly part of me that envied her. That part whispered, What if you’d gone on that billionaire reality show instead of pushing her to do it? What if that was your life instead of hers?
Whenever those thoughts crept in, I brushed them off, burying them deep. I wasn’t about to let jealousy ruin what we had. But some nights, like this one , it was harder to ignore.
I was sprawled on Lamari’s leather couch after a sex session with him, puffing on a blunt as Moneybagg Yo blared through the condo. The bottle of D’usse on the coffee table was already half gone, and the room was hazy with smoke and liquor-fueled tension.
This wasn’t the first night I’d spent here, and it wouldn’t be the last. Lamari wasn’t anything serious to me—just a guy who knew how to blow a bag and keep me entertained. He gave me money and dick, and I didn’t ask for much else.
But there was one big, messy problem with this arrangement: Lamari used to be Dream’s man.
Even worse, this wasn’t new. I’d been creeping with him for a while, slipping into his DMs late at night and telling myself it didn’t mean anything. Back then, I convinced myself it was harmless. Now, I knew better.
“Man, that nigga Damier really thinks he’s King of LA,” Lamari muttered, breaking my train of thought. He was sitting across from me, scrolling through his phone like he was searching for answers to a test he couldn’t pass.
I rolled my eyes, taking another hit of the blunt. “You still on that? Let it go, Lamari. You sound bitter as hell.”
He looked up, his jaw tightening. “I ain’t bitter. I’m just saying. He was out there courtside with Dream like they the new Jay and Bey or something. Acting like he runs the city.”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke, letting it hang between us. “And what? You mad he’s doing what you couldn’t?”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he set his phone down and started pacing, the tension rolling off him in waves.
“You know what?” he said after a moment, his voice low and cold. “Fuck it. I’m gonna take her.”
I blinked, confused. “Take who?”
“Dream,” he said, his tone flat. “I’m gonna kidnap her. Hold her for ransom. That nigga Damier’s gonna be sick about it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Lamari, you sound crazy as hell. You’re drunk.”
“I’m serious,” he snapped, his eyes locking onto mine. “Four million. I’ll hold her for four million. And you’re gonna help me.”
The laughter died in my throat as his words sank in. “Yeah, right,” I said, forcing a nervous chuckle. “I’m not getting involved in that.”
“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer. “Think about it. One million, Zaraa. That’s what I’m offering you. A million dollars just to lure her somewhere. You can finally stop living like this. Get out of that little ass apartment and start living like Dream. Don’t act like you don’t want that.”
I froze, my mind spinning. A million dollars was no joke. It was enough to change everything for me. But the risk? The risk was too high. And Dream? She was my best friend. I’d already betrayed her once. Could I really do it again?
“It’s too risky,” I finally said, shaking my head. “I’ve heard stories about Damier. He’s violent, Lamari. You don’t wanna mess with someone like him. Don’t take that man for a joke.”
His face darkened, and his voice turned icy.
“Risky?” he repeated, stepping even closer. “You know what’s risky? Me telling Dream the truth about you. About how you’ve been creeping with me since before we broke up. About how you’ve been envying her for years, wishing you had her life.”
My heart dropped, the blunt forgotten in my hand.
“That’s right,” he said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “I’ll tell her everything, Zaraa. I have videos of you venting to me about it while you were drunk. You really wanna play like you’ve got options here?”
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
“You don’t have to answer now,” he said, stepping back and picking up his phone again. “Think about it. You’re either with me or against me. But my plan is going down in a couple weeks, with or without you.”
He went back to scrolling like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
I stared at him, my mind racing, the room spinning from the liquor and the weight of his words.
Damn. Do I wanna betray my friend again for money?