Page 20 of Rose
“I thought he could convince you to take the day off,” Kyre said, her tone light but knowing.
“Wrong candidate,” Ahzii muttered, her voice dry, making them both laugh softly.
They caught it—the hint of her old self, buried under the ash. She didn’t smile much, didn’t laugh much anymore, but every now and then the sarcasm slipped through. A little reminder she was still in there somewhere, fighting.
“How was the hearing?” A’Mazi asked, passing the blunt back to Ahzii.
She took it without a word, inhaling slow.
Kyre rolled her eyes, leaning back. “Long as hell. I’m just glad it’s over. Got the charges dropped.”
A’Mazi smiled, pride clear in his voice. “That’s my girl.”
She smiled softly, leaning into his shoulder as he kissed her temple.
Ahzii watched them, her heart aching in a way she couldn’t explain. But still, she smiled for Kyre. She knew how much this case weighed on her best friend.
A 19-year-old boy who shot and killed his mother’s abuser. He was facing 25 to life for protecting her. Kyre couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t.
And she didn’t.
“Congrats, Ky,” Ahzii said, her voice low but genuine, letting the smoke drift from her lips as she glanced at the time.
Her next client was waiting.
“You ready for lunch?” A’Mazi asked, already standing and stretching.
“Yeah...” Kyre nodded, remembering why she even stopped by in the first place. “Ahzii, you want to come? You need to eat something.”
“I’m good. Kiyan’s bringing me something before his appointment.”
Ahzii spoke flatly, already turning on the purifier to clear the smoke from the air and lighting a candle to drown out the smell.
A’Mazi frowned, giving her a look that could cut glass.
“You still fucking with that clown-ass nigga?”
“That three-hundred-million-dollar clown-ass nigga?” she replied dryly, not missing a beat. “Yes.”
Kyre laughed, shaking her head because even in pain, Ahzii’s delivery was undefeated. Part joke, part truth. Kiyan played for the Miami Legends and was worth more than most could dream of—but none of that mattered to her.
He was a distraction. A body. A fleeting, temporary fix for the emptiness that never left.
“Period, friend.” Kyre hyped, holding her hand out for a slap.
Ahzii gave her a small laugh and hit her palm, the sound soft in the thick air.
“You gon’ get that nigga killed, Shug,” A’Mazi muttered, rubbing his temple, forever the overprotective big brother—even if he was only older by five minutes.
Ahzii rolled her eyes. “Won’t be the first time.”
Her voice was quiet, her chuckle dry, but the words stopped them both cold.
Kyre and A’Mazi froze, exchanging a look.
They were used to her bluntness, but this... this was different.
She was talking about William.
