12. Nasseem #2
“Nate, you fuckin' ruin everything,” I muttered, blood dripping from my knuckles. Then my phone lit up with Creed's name glowing on the screen. I snatched it up and pressed it to my ear.
“Nas, you good?” Creed asked, he sounded concerned, and I couldn’t even tell you how he knew I had needed him, needed my best friend.
“How the fuck am I gonna fix this shit?” I asked voice cracking. “Creed, you gotta help me fix this.”
“I’m on my way.”
Creed ain’t say shit for a minute, just sat across from me with the bottle in his hand, twisting the cap off like he was giving it a second thought.
The Hennessy was already opened, a couple shots deep between us, and the ashtray was stacked with the ends of Serenity’s pre-rolls.
Normally I would’ve clowned him for pulling up with his wife’s stash, but I wasn’t in a joking mood—and he knew it.
“I ain’t gon’ hold you, Nas,” he finally said, leaning back in the chair with a long exhale. “You look like shit.”
“Feel worse.” I stretched my hand, blood stains on the dressing I had wrapped around my knuckles. I turned towards the hole in my wall and shook my head, making a mental note to call and have it fixed in the morning.
“Figured.” He passed me the bottle. I took a long sip, let it burn down my chest, hoping it would dull the fire in my head. It didn’t.
“This Nate shit gon’ bury me, dawg. I’m tryna keep my head straight but it’s like every time I get a little peace, he find a way to shake that shit.”
Creed nodded slow; jaw tight. “You know I always peeped that shit in him. Since we was kids. He ain’t never liked me.”
“I know,” I muttered. “You said it back then.”
“I ain’t say it to be petty. I said it ‘cause I saw it. He ain’t never liked that you had me in your corner. He didn’t like that I cared about you so much, thought I was tryna take you from him or some shit.”
“Yeah, well,” I sighed, looking down at my hands. “He took that charge for me, though. Ain’t nobody else ever done no shit like that for me. He my family, but fuck, is this how family do each other?”
“That don’t mean he get to own your whole life behind it,” Creed said, sitting up, tone firmer.
“You been payin’ for that shit every day since.
You looked out while he was locked up. Put money on his books.
Took care of him when he came home. And now he want you to throw your fuckin’ fight? Come on, bro.”
“I know,” I muttered again. “But he got me by the throat, C. If this shit get out, I’m done. Ain’t no promoter gon’ touch me. My endorsements gone. My name in the mud.”
“I’ll help,” Creed said, eyes locked on mine. “Whatever he askin’ for. Me and Lenox, we’ll cover it.”
I shook my head quick. “Nah, man. I ain’t takin’ y’all money. I appreciate it, but that’s my problem. I made the decision, I gotta deal with the consequences.”
Creed looked at me, real quiet, real still. Then he nodded. “Aight. But whatever you decide, don’t shut me out. We built this brotherhood from the mud. You fall; I fall. We always been ten toes.”
That shit hit me right in the chest. I reached across and gripped his hand, pulling him into a hug. “Love you, bro. Deadass.”
“Love you too, fam.”
We sat there in silence for a minute, both of us heavy but grounded in that moment. That’s what real brotherhood was.
Eventually, I stood up and wiped my face. “I gotta make shit right with Egypt.”
“Go get your girl,” Creed nodded, standing with me. “Ain’t no point in fighting the world if the woman you love ain’t beside you.”
Creed was right, after dabbin’ him up one more time, he cut out and I made my way into my bedroom to pack a bag; there was no way I wasn’t laying with that woman in my arms tonight.
Knowing how fucked up I was, I ordered an Uber to get to her crib. Forty minutes later, I was packed, locking up my crib and heading towards Egypt’s home; praying that she would open the door for me let alone talk to me after the bullshit I said earlier.
The Uber dropped me off at the bottom of the steep-ass driveway, headlights casting long shadows across the pavement.
Egypt’s place sat on the edge of the hills, all tucked back and lowkey, like the peace she always said she wanted.
One of them modern cribs that looked like a damn art piece from the outside, dark wood, black iron railings, all clean lines and glass.
I stood there for a second, heart knocking in my chest. Hands sweating and my breath was tight.
Then, I walked up and knocked. The door swung open a few seconds later, and there she was.
She was barefoot in a pair of tight black biker shorts and an oversized Tupac T-shirt that hit the middle of her thighs.
Her natural hair was tied up in a thick bun on top of her head, and even with no makeup, she looked better than anything I'd ever seen.
But her eyes? Them shits sliced through me. "What the fuck are you doing at my house, Nasseem?" Her voice was cold, hurt; but still so damn beautiful.
I didn’t answer. I just stepped forward and pulled her into my arms, one hand sliding behind her neck, the other locking around her waist like I’d lose my mind if she pushed me off. She stiffened, and I felt her palms land flat on my chest—but she didn’t push, nor did she run.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her forehead. “For what I said and for how I said it.”
"You snapped on me. Like I was just some girl you was fuckin'," she muttered. “That shit cut deep, Nasseem.”
“I know.” I pulled back enough to look at her. “I know, E. That’s not what we are. That’s never what we were.”
I stepped inside without her inviting me, but she didn’t stop me.
Her place smelled like lavender candles and sativa, her playlist still playing soft in the background—some Summer Walker shit with a moody vibe.
We stood there, in the middle of her living room, not saying shit for a moment.
She looked like she was holding in every emotion she had.
I reached out, brushed a curl from her cheek, and said the one thing that’d been sitting on my chest for months. “I love you.” Her eyes went wide and glossy. But I continued; “I fuckin’ love you, Egypt. I ain’t never said that shit to nobody before. But I mean it. I love you.”
Her mouth parted like she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes searched mine like she needed to make sure I wasn’t lying. Then she whispered, “Say it again.”
I didn’t blink. “I love you.”
This time, the tears spilled. She didn’t cry loud. Didn’t sob. Just let the tears fall while she stared at me, like everything I just said was finally cracking her open.
“I love you too,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I tried not to, but I do. I love you so much, Nasseem.”
I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and pulled her against me like my life depended on it. Her arms wrapped around my waist, face pressed into my chest, and we stood there swaying gently, our energy syncing like we both needed to feel it.
“I was scared,” I said against her hair. “Scared to tell you the real. I didn’t want you to look at me different.”
“Tell me,” she said softly. “Tell me everything.”
So, I did. I told her about the setup. About the murder.
About the drugs I was movin’ for Nate back in Dallas.
Told her how that night I didn’t even go looking for trouble, but trouble found me.
How I killed a man who was trying to kill me, and how the weight of that shit almost broke me until Creed called with a plane ticket and a way out.
“I told Nate I’d take care of him,” I said, pulling back just enough to look her in the face. “And I did. All them years, I kept my word. But now he back and he want me to throw my fight. He talkin’ to blogs, dragging my name, tryin’ to paint this picture like I left him behind.”
Egypt wiped her face, eyes sharp. “How much is he asking for?”
“Five million at first. Then fifty.”
“Fifty?” she repeated, stunned. I nodded. “Jesus,” she whispered. “That’s insane.”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s everything I got. He tryin’ to destroy me, E.”
She walked over to the couch and sat, motioning for me to join her. When I did, she curled up next to me, her legs tucked under her.
“This doesn’t change how I feel about you,” she said, eyes locking with mine. “You were a kid, Nasseem. You did what you had to do. And you’re not that man anymore. You’ve built a life, a career, a name. You’ve changed. That doesn’t scare me.”
“You sure?” I asked, voice lower now. “Because that past… it’s ugly.”
“So is mine,” she said. “So is everybody’s. You think I give a fuck about the streets of Dallas? I care about who you are now. I care about the man who holds me like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded. I care about the man who just told me he loves me.”
I pulled her in and kissed her—deep, slow, with everything in me. Her arms slid around my shoulders, and she melted into me like she’d always belonged there.
“You still ridin’ wit me?” I asked, my voice low in her ear.
“Always,” she whispered. “Whatever we gotta face, we’ll face it together.”
And just like that, I knew this was home. Not the crib, not the city. Her.