Hook'd Read Free Page B

night of his return, and his team threw a private rooftop party in L.A. in celebration. The most prominent celebrities in Hollywood had attended, from Diddy to Jay Z. Dressed in his black and gold printed Versace crewneck T, matching designer jeans, with exclusive pair of black Prada sneakers, with his sleek Ray bans to finish off his look, he dressed fresh for the occasion. A total contrast from the dingy, blue jumpsuit he had worn for months. He had even gotten rid of the ruffled afro and beard that had him looking like a bum off the street, and kept this hair in a low fade, with his facial hair neatly groomed.
    It felt so good to be out. 
    To no longer be confined in a 8X7 cell, with no ounce of freedom, the feeling was liberating. Within 6 months, they had petitioned a new trial and his conviction had been overturned. He had never felt so blessed.
    But even as he sat amongst everyone within the exuberant atmosphere, a deep sense of emptiness arose in his chest. Prison gave him time to reflect. And the one thing he realized, was how alone he really was. The same people in attendance that had welcomed him with open arms, were the same ones that had turned their backs on him during his time of need. He realized now, he couldn't trust anybody. In that moment, Slick's past words lingered his mind. The piece of advice he had given years ago, when he was just a budding athlete new to the game. "Son, people are moths drawn to your light. And the moment that light dims, they'll all disappear before you even know it. " That always stuck with him. But for this all to actually happen, it really put things into perspective for him.
    From here on out, he would only keep his circle close. He was done with all this fake, Hollywood shit.
    His publicist, Yasmine, sat next to him on the plush chair. She crossed her legs with her phone in her hand. She began to speak, but the pounding rap music drowned out her voice.
    "What? I can't hear you," He said, leaning his ear closer to her lips.
    "I said, I booked you an interview with Don Lennon, next Friday."
    Cam tilted his head. "Yas, you at a party right now and you wanna talk about that?"
    "Yes, I do."
    As usual.
    One thing he could say about Yasmine, she was always on her A game. At all times. 
    He scoped her frame, admiring how good she looked tonight in her royal blue dress. Her long slender legs looked more than tantalizing under her short cut dress, as well as her perfectly manicured toes adorned in her 6 inch stilettos. A definite plus. There was nothing worse than a woman with bad unkempt feet. With that smooth light mocha skin, long straight black hair, and perfect body, Yasmine was sexy as hell. No doubt about it.
    There were times he thought about getting at her. They flirted from time to time. But that was where it stopped. She was professional enough not to take it any further. And he respected her for it.
    "Oh, and we have to start revamping your image. So, for the upcoming weeks, you're going to be doing a lot of charity work. Like visiting shelters, group homes, schools, speaking to kids, the whole 9. Oh, and speaking of which, I actually have a friend that runs—"
    He grabbed her phone. "Stop."
    Yasmine rolled her eyes with a sigh. He picked up the Peach Cîroc from the table and poured some into her empty glass. "Drink. You're at a party, we don't gotta talk about all that right now."
    "But seriously my—"
    "Yas."
    "I know, I know. Just one last thing." She took the phone back from him.
    "Alright, what is it?" He leaned back, taking a sip of his drink.
    "My friend, Reese, runs a shelter for battered women. So, I'm thinking if you were able to at least volunteer or do a speaking engagement there, it would really help your image."
    "Hell no." He shook his head. "I'm all for speaking to kids and all that other shit. But a women's shelter? Nah."
    "Why not? It's only gonna help you."
    "Help me how?" He turned to her. "How do I look, speaking to women about abuse? 'Oh, ladies