12. Nasseem
NASSEEM
M y life was goin’ good as hell. Egypt was glowing like a damn spotlight followed her everywhere she walked. We was good, solid—even happy. I was in the zone with training, focused and locked in. Then that fuck nigga Nate had to pop back up.
Lipstick Confidential blew the whole shit open. The headlines. The blogs. The reposts. The whispers.
“Did Nasseem’s brother do time for him?”
“Boxing star owes his career to a murder cover-up?”
“Walker family secrets exposed!”
And just like that—my shit was spinning.
I was at my spot, blinds shut tight, phone off, staring down at my table where my team sat in a half circle: my manager Jay, my publicist Amina, my trainer Reggie, and my lawyer Anthony. And on the far end of the couch sat Lenox Bradshaw; calm, cool. watching everything like a chessboard.
Amina was pacing. “We need a statement,” she said. “This is already spiraling. There’s speculation but if we don’t respond soon, people are going to assume guilt.”
Jay leaned back in the chair, rubbing his temples. “We can’t just drop a denial if we don’t know how far Nate plans to take this shit. What if there’s proof?”
Anthony tapped his pen against his notepad. “Let’s not forget this is murder he’s implicating you in. Even if you weren’t charged, this isn’t something to play with. What do we not know, Nas?”
I didn’t say shit. Just looked at the table. That’s when Lenox stood up, slow, and nodded toward the door. “Clear the room.”
“Mr. Bradshaw—” Amina started.
“I said clear the room,” he repeated, calm but firm.
Everyone gathered their stuff. They knew better than to question Lenox when he used that voice. Jay gave me a look before nodding and walking out with the rest of them. When the door clicked shut, silence settled over the room.
Lenox looked at me for a moment, then walked to the window, cracking the blinds just enough for light to spill through. “Tell me the truth, Nas. Is what he’s sayin’ true?”
I looked up at him, jaw tight. “Yeah.”
His head lowered. “Walk me through it.”
I exhaled sharp. “It was 2012. I was still in Dallas. Trappin’.
Dumb shit. Nate had me movin' weight for him. Creed told me not to fall into that trap, but I ain’t have no real options then.
I was hustlin’ just to eat. Plus, I did it to help my brother, he took care of me all our lives; what the fuck was I supposed to do, tell him no?
” Lenox nodded. Didn’t interrupt. “I had a drop set up. Everything was supposed to be clean. But when I pulled up, it was a setup. Niggas had masks on, guns drawn. They wasn’t tryin’ to buy, niggas was tryna rob me.
One lunged at me. I had my piece. Shot him twice.
He ain’t make it.” Lenox stayed quiet; eyes steady on mine.
“I didn’t know what to do. Then Creed hit me sayin’ you was lookin’ to bring me out to Vegas.
You had connects and you was willin’ to put me in front of the right people.
I panicked. Told Nate what happened. And before I could even do anything, he turned himself in.
Took the charge. Said I needed to go make somethin’ of myself.
Said he wasn’t about to let his little brother rot. ”
Lenox rubbed his jaw. “So, he did eight years for you?”
“Yeah. And when he did, I told him I had him on whatever he needed.”
“You keep your word?”
I nodded. “Sent money. Made sure he ate good. Put money on his books. Had him set up when he got out. Told him I’d help him get on his feet.”
“And?”
“I did. But a few months back, he started talkin’ crazy. Said he had a plan to flip money. Wanted me to throw the Sadiq fight. Said he had hella money on the line. Kept pressin’. I told him no. Offered him money anyway, just not on no foul shit. He refused. Said I owed him more than a check.”
“And now this,” Lenox murmured.
I looked at him, frustration bubbling under my skin. “He threatenin’ me. Got my name out there like I ain’t do shit for him. Like I ain’t carry guilt for that shit every damn day.”
Lenox turned toward me, voice low. “How much money does he need?”
I shook my head. “Won’t say. Every time I ask, he change the subject.”
Lenox stepped closer. “Get him on the phone.”
“What?”
“Get him on the damn phone.”
I stared at him. “For what?”
He crossed his arms. “I’ll pay it. Whatever number he name. I’m not about to watch your career crash over some street bullshit.”
“No, Lenox. I ain’t lettin’ you?—”
“I said get him on the phone, Nasseem.” His voice was like steel.
Reluctantly, I pulled my phone out, scrolled to Nate’s contact hit the number. Then I put the phone on speaker. He picked up on the third ring.
“Well, well, look who decided to call,” he said, voice laced with smugness.
“You wildin’, bro,” I said, tone sharp. “What the fuck is you doin’?”
“Aw, you mad I talked to the press? Nigga, you had that comin’. You ghosted me.”
“I offered you money.”
“I told you that wasn’t enough.”
Lenox cleared his throat. “Nate. This is Lenox Bradshaw.”
Nate chuckled. “Ohhh, the rich puppet master. Damn, Nas—you really got your little benefactor makin’ your calls now?”
Lenox ignored him. “Let’s stop the bullshit. How much do you need?”
Nate paused. “Five mil.”
My stomach dropped. I clenched my fist.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
Lenox didn’t blink. “Done. Where?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then Nate laughed. “Actually... make it fifty.”
“Bitch, what?!” I grabbed the phone, took it off speaker, stormed across the room. “You out your fuckin’ mind. You think I’m ‘bout to give you everything I got? Nah. Fuck you, Nate. You not gettin’ a dime. You hear me? Not…A… Fuckin’... Dime.” I hung up, my hands trembling.
Lenox was still by the window, arms crossed. “He’s gonna come harder now,” he said. “You ready for that?”
I looked him square in the eye. “At this point, Lenox, it’s one or the other. Either I end him... or he ends me.”
Lenox stared back. Quiet. Then nodded once. “Then prepare yourself, son. Cause the next move he makes... might be war.”
I heard the knock on the door and already knew it was her. Egypt always knocked three times, light but deliberate like she ain't wanna seem pressed. I opened it, still coming down off the heated ass convo with Nate and there she was standing there looking like the calm I needed.
“Papa Lenox,” she grinned when she saw him behind me. Her whole face lit up. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Was just leavin’, baby girl,” Lenox said, pulling her into a hug like she was his own blood. “Be good, now. You already know how much this one means to me.” He nodded in my direction before giving her that fatherly shoulder squeeze and heading down the hallway. I stood back and let her walk in.
“You good?” she asked me the moment the door clicked shut behind her. She wrapped her arms around me from behind, pressed her face to my back like she always did when she was tryna ground me.
I didn’t answer right away. My mind was still racing. My fists still tight from everything. Her touch helped, but it didn’t erase what the fuck Nate was trying to do.
“My team want me to put out a statement,” I said finally. “About Nate.”
She moved around to face me. “A statement saying what?”
“That I ain’t do the shit he accusing me of. Basically, say it’s all lies.”
She studied me. “Is it?” I turned away. “Nas.” Still, I didn’t respond. “Nasseem.” Her voice was firmer this time, eyes sharp. “Did Nate take a charge for you?”
I let out a hard breath through my nose. “Why you askin’ me that?”
“Because I’m standing in the middle of this storm defending you. I got people DMing me, reporters emailing my team, everybody askin’ questions, and if I’m gonna stand beside you, I gotta know what I’m standin’ on.” I could feel the edge in her voice. The way she was pressing for answers.
“I ain’t ask you to stand beside me,” I snapped, regretting it soon as it came out. She flinched. But I kept going—stupid. “We been fuckin’ for what, a few months? And now you think you entitled to know everything that go on in my life? Like this shit ain’t new?”
Her whole body pulled back like I slapped her. Her face went pale, eyes wide like I’d just broke somethin’ sacred between us. The tears started to well up, and I felt ‘em hit me harder than any punch I ever took in the ring.
“Wow,” she said, voice trembling. “So that’s all we’ve been doin’? Fuckin’?”
“E—”
She shook her head, then grabbed her bag off the counter.
“I came here because I care about you. I came here to make sure you were okay. And you gon’ reduce this shit down to sex like I ain’t been layin’ in your bed for months?
Cookin’ for you? Wakin’ up in your arms?
Like I don’t know you better than most?” I tried to grab her arm, but she yanked away from me.
“I ain’t about to let you or nobody else talk to me like I’m crazy.
If you not comfortable sharing shit with me, then fine.
But don’t disrespect what we have. And if that’s all this is to you, maybe we need to take a fuckin’ step back. ”
“Egypt,” I said, voice low.
“Nah,” she said quietly. “You got it. If you don't trust me enough to let me in—and if you don't even see me for what I am to you—then what the fuck am I even doing?”
I moved toward her, fast and desperate., “Are you serious right now?”
She didn’t answer. She just opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it behind her like she was trying to take the whole building down with her. I stood there, stunned, chest heaving and my mind racing. The silence that followed was unbearable.
By the time I yanked the door open and sprinted into the hallway, from the window on my floor, all I saw was the back of her car tires disappearing down the street.
And just like that, she was gone. I walked back to my condo, closed the door, turned toward the wall then punched straight through the drywall.
Pain shot through my hand, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.