Page 53 of Free to Fall

I clenched my fists. “You said you wanted money. I offered it. Now you runnin’ off at the mouth like I owe you my fuckin’ soul.”

“You owe me a lot more than money,” he said, stepping up into my space. “You owe me your life. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a cell or a coffin. You got this cute lil’ life now, but that shit built on what I did. What I took.” I was breathing heavy now, heat rushing behind my eyes. “And now,” Nate continued, voice dropping low, “I hear you finally got somethin worth losin’.”

My gut clenched. “What the fuck that mean?”

He smirked. “Egypt, right? Heard she got a nice lil’ crib up in the hills. Real quiet and real secluded. Wouldn’t take nothin’ for somebody to creep up there.”

I blacked out. I don’t remember throwing the first punch. I just remember the sound of his head smacking against the wall. He came back at me, swinging wild, and then we was brawling. Fists, elbows, cuss words. Two grown men in the middle of the gym trying to kill each other. Trainers were yelling and people were pulling us apart.

I heard Nate spit and laugh, face bloodied, eyes wild. “Watch yo fuckin’ back, Nasseem,” he said, jerking away from the man holding him. “Next time you might find a bullet in it.”

I lunged again, but two dudes grabbed my arms before I could reach him. Reg and another coach dragged Nate toward the front, shoving him out the double doors like he was yesterday’s trash. I heard them lock the doors behind him before Reg yelled.

“That mutha fucka better not be allowed in here again.”

The second Nate was gone, I snapped. I shoved the guys off me, stormed through the gym and sent a heavy bag flying off the chain with one hit. I flipped the weight bench, kicked a stack of pads, tossed a stool at the wall. The mirror cracked, the echo of my destruction bouncing off the walls like thunder. Everyonecleared out, giving me space like I was a wild animal. Because that’s how I felt. Uncaged, unhinged and un-fuckin-raveled.

I dropped down to my knees in the middle of the ring, panting, chest heaving. Sweat poured down my face, mixing with tears I didn’t even know were there. Egypt’s face flashed in my mind, her tears, her voice, her pain.I did that.

Now my brother was threatening her life? Nah. I wasn’t gonna let this shit slide. Not this. I might’ve fucked up with her, but I wasn’t gonna let her be no target. I wasn’t gonna let the one good thing I had left get caught in this mess. Even if it meant doing something that couldn’t be undone.

And I already knew that by morning, this shit would be on every blog in the city. But I didn’t care. Let 'em talk. I had bigger problems now.

15

EGYPT

I’d been in Memphis for a little over three weeks and still couldn’t tell if I felt better or worse. Physically, yeah, maybe. The nausea wasn’t as constant, but it hit when I least expected it. Like today, halfway through laying vocals forDon’t Say Love, I had to pause mid-verse, clutch my stomach, and sprint to the garbage can in the booth with me. I’d had to keep one in there in order to keep from going back and forth to the bathroom. It wasn’t ideal but I had to do what I had to do.

“Damn, you good?” Averi called after me through the mic.

“No,” I croaked, hunched over the trash, my forehead pressed to my arm. “This baby tryna knock me out the game early.”

I heard the studio door creak open and felt her presence before she even spoke. “You need to eat, Egypt. That’s the second time today you dry heaved. You gon’ pass out in this damn booth.”

I waved her off. “I’m fine. Just let me finish the hook.”

She didn’t argue. She knew better than to tell me not to work. Music was the only thing keeping me together. That, and being under my Nana’s roof as often as I could. It was the one placeI didn’t have to explain myself. The one place that still felt like home.

By the time I got back in the booth, I powered through my next song,Ctrl+Alt+Del, my voice worn but full of emotion. One of my label mates, a female rap artist Amiri was supposed to hop on the track with me, but couldn’t come to Memphis to record, so we’d be sending the track off to her later.

After the session, Averi and I dipped back to the hotel to change before heading to my Nana’s for dinner. While I was curling my hair, my phone buzzed—again. Another text from my publicist.

Paulette: You want to make a comment about your relationship status with Nasseem?"

I typed back a quick hell no and hit send. I wasn’t giving them shit. Not after everything.

I stared at myself in the mirror, eyes a little puffier than usual, skin slightly dull. I was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. I missed him. But I wasn’t about to fall apart again.

“You good?” Averi asked, stepping into my room in a ribbed blue jumpsuit and Yeezy slides.

I nodded. “Yeah, just…prepping myself to deal with Cleo and Isis’ bullshit.”

Dinner had barely started,and I already wanted to flip the damn table. I don’t know what it was about being in the same room with my aunt Cleo and her daughter Isis that brought out the worst in me, but something about their energy crawled under my skin like a rash you couldn’t scratch. The fake smiles,the dramatic sighs, the backhanded compliments dressed in Bible verses. All of it just made me itch.

My Nana had insisted on this dinner. “I want my family under one roof,” she said. “Just like old times.” Except back in the old times, my mom was alive and these two weren’t so bold.

Averi sat across from me, wine glass in hand, watching like she was waiting for the first shot to be fired. It came from Cleo.

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