Natural Born Hustler (BOOK 4)

Chapter Thirty-Eight -- Sleeping Beauty

Chapter Thirty-Eight -- Sleeping Beauty

Erik's POV

"Man, are you ready for this?" Byron, a old college friend of mine, asked, sitting on the side of me.

"Whether he's ready or not, he's already here. Ain't no turning back now," Jeremih, another college buddy, threw his two cents in from the back seat. "Everybody already see your car."

Byron turned his head to the back. "Fuck that got to do wit' anything?"

"If he turn around, he'll look like a li'l bitch," Jeremih said simply.

"What? Nigga, that don't even sound right."

"Aight, well how about I just sit back here while you tell him what sounds wrong."

"You mean right."

"Nah, wrong."

Byron sucked his teeth. "Nigga, even that don't sound right."

"Boys!" Megan finally cut in, she was also sitting in the back with Jeremih. "You two argue like husband and wife! I don't even know why Erik has you two bum heads with him anyway, but since you are, can you at least act like two grown men while we're here? If you haven't noticed, we're at a funeral."

The car grew quiet and the only thing that could be heard was the occasionally loud conversations from outside.

"She's right, man," Byron spoke up first. "My bad, Erik. Man, I can't even imagine how hard this may be for you."

"Yeah," Jeremih agreed, "my bad, bruh."

"Ya'll straight. Thank all of you for coming for support. I'm kinda happy I don't have to do this alone," I told everyone.

"It's nothin', fam." "You good." "Aww, you're welcome big brother," all came at me all at once before I got out of the car.

This is the day the media's been waiting on and they didn't even try to hide their disrespect to Oshyn's family.

Camera men and women with microphones were scattered all over the cemetery like they belonged here.

Oshyn finally got her shot at fame. Her name's all over the news now for being the girl that killed herself because of her boss, a paid-out-the-ass nigga named Ruelle LaVene, turned her down in front of the whole Prada staff. Some straight bullshit, if you ask me.

With all that going on, last week was nothing but a blur to me. If it wasn't for the funeral, I wouldn't have even put on decent clothes today.

To make it simple, I just stop giving a fuck.

With Karly on her death bed and Oshyn on a cold table with a toe tag, who was I trying to impress?

All heads turned in my direction when I came closer to the large group of people gathered around underneath a dark blue cloth tent.

There was a few seats up close to Oshyn's coffin, but they were taken by her mother and father, two older sisters, and one younger brother, who I've all met a few times.

I avoided their sad faces, and starred straight at the coffin, ignoring the piecing eyes burning a whole through my face.

The priest cleared his throat, making everyone give him all of their attention. "Let us commend Oshyn Bryant to the mercy of God. Everyone bow our head..."

He began to pray and I dropped my head just like everyone else. It's still hard for me to believe she's gone, even while I'm standing here. I wish I could've helped her... only if I would've known where to start.