Page 43 of Free to Fall

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 ismurderhe’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 stayedquiet; 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.

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