Chapter 8 Nyree
I was in my room cheesing, earbuds in, listening to that hit from the Get Rich or Die Trying soundtrack and singing along like a schoolboy. “If I was your best friend…” I let out, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
I was simping hard as a motherfucker over Asia, but I couldn’t help it.
Granted, we only had one and a half conversations, but there was something about her. Her smile. Her high cheekbones. The way she looked at me when I described my hustle.
Thoughts of my hustle sobered me up.
This could be my moment if I played my cards right. Or at least a moment that could lead to the official launch of my career.
I flopped back on the bed, still smiling like a fool as 50's voice flowed through my earbuds. "I want you ‘round all the time..."
The way Asia's eyes had lit up when I started singing that song was everything. She tried to play it cool, but I caught how her lips curved up at the corners, fighting a smile before giving in.
My phone buzzed with a text from Jamel:
We got the walkthrough at 8pm tonight. Be ready.
Shit. I needed to get my head in the game.
I sat up, pulling out my earbuds and setting my phone aside. This gig with Jamel was the real reason I was here. As much as I wanted to keep daydreaming about Asia, I had to focus on the job.
I went to my camera bag and started checking my equipment. My Canon R5 was my pride and joy, something I'd saved for months to buy, skipping nights out and eating ramen more often than I cared to admit. I checked the battery levels and made sure my memory cards were formatted and ready.
If I nailed this job, it could change everything for me. Jamel promised that Julien wasn't the only celebrity who would be there. This was a high-profile charity event with athletes, musicians, and even a few actors expected to attend. The kind of connections I could make were priceless.
My mind drifted back to how I got here, and I couldn't help but smile at the unlikely path.
I barely scraped by in high school. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work—I just didn't see the point.
What did algebra and Shakespeare have to do with real life?
But I stuck it out because the one time I mentioned dropping out, my mom cried for three straight days.
She was working two jobs to support us at the time, and all she wanted was to see me walk across that stage.
So I did it for her. Got my diploma with a 2.1 GPA and tried community college because that's what you're supposed to do. That lasted one semester before I failed out, spending more time sleeping than attending classes.
After that came the parade of jobs that went nowhere. Six months stocking shelves at Target. Four months delivering pizzas. A brief stint as a security guard at the mall that ended when I got caught sleeping in the break room too many times.
Ma never said she was disappointed, but I could see it in her eyes. I was going nowhere fast.
Then came Tanya's wedding. My cousin had always been like a big sister to me, and when her photographer canceled at the last minute, she called me in a panic.
"You always take good pictures on your phone for Instagram," she'd said. "Please, Nyree, I'm desperate."
I borrowed a decent camera from Jamel, who was also into photography as a hobby. I showed up to the wedding with zero experience but a determination not to let Tanya down on her big day.
Something clicked that day. For the first time, I found something that felt natural. I had an eye for catching people in their real moments rather than stiff poses. I could sense when the perfect shot was coming before it happened.
When I delivered the photos to Tanya two weeks later, she cried looking through them. Real tears.
"These are better than what I would've gotten from that expensive photographer," she told me, hugging me tight. She slipped me $300 the next month when she got paid—more money than I deserved for my first gig.
Then her friend Shanice got engaged and wanted me for her wedding. Then her cousin. Then a family reunion. A sweet sixteen party. A baby shower.
Suddenly I had a business without even trying. No website, no business cards, not even an official name—just word of mouth and a growing portfolio on my phone. People would hit me up on Instagram or through friends of friends.
The money wasn't steady, but it was more than I'd made at any of those dead-end jobs, and for the first time, I felt proud of what I was doing.
My mom started bragging about me to her friends, showing them pictures I'd taken.
"My son the photographer," she'd say, her voice full of pride that had been missing for years.
And now here I was, about to photograph an event with actual celebrities. All because Jamel believed in me enough to put his own reputation on the line.
My phone buzzed again. A text from Asia this time:
Yeah, it’s me. Friend.
I grinned, typing back a jokingly sarcastic reply:
I can feel your enthusiasm through the phone.
My phone showed that she saw it, but she didn’t write back. That was fine with me. It was only a matter of time.
I laughed out loud, about to text her again when there was a knock at my door. Probably Jamel checking on me before the walkthrough.
As I went to answer, I realized I was standing at a crossroads. This weekend could change my life. And meeting Asia again felt like God was giving me a sign about my personal life too.
For a guy who'd spent most of his life feeling like he was missing something, suddenly everything seemed to be falling into place.
I opened the door to find Jamel standing there, ready to go.
"You good?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. "You got this weird look on your face."
I nodded, trying to wipe the smile off my face but failing. "Yeah, man. I'm ready. Let's go show these people what I can do."
Life was sweet indeed. And if things kept going this way, it was only going to get sweeter.