Welcome to the Wild$ide [A$AP Rocky Story]

oO4.

     I looked at the clock; I had three hours before my dad was set to go to court. After court I had to meet with my Dad's attorney, David Tutuola, to discuss the game plan. Anxiety filled me. I hoped like hell the judge released my dad until the trial.

      I quickly took a shower and put on a floral blazer, a pair of white skinny jeans that ripped at the knee, and some yellow spiked wedges. I pulled my hair into a neat ballerina bun, applied yellow MAC lipstick, and was out the door. I sped through traffic to get to the courthouse. I totally loved my new Ferrari.

     I pulled up to the courthouse and caught hell finding a parking spot. After finally finding one, I entered the building. I went through a metal detector and was pat searched. I then stood outside of the courtroom waiting for my dad's lawyer. I didn't really know what to expect or who to look for. Sure he had been my father's lawyer for years, but I had never met him in person; only phone call conversations.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you Harlem Santino?" a tall, brown skinned, God asked me. He was gorgeous. Lost in his smile, I found myself dazing off. I had to snap back to reality.

"Yes I am," I said studying his physique. A girl could only dream about what was under his Armani suit. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Hi, I'm David Tutuola, your father's attorney." He extended his hand to me and I shook it. He had a firm grip and very soft hands. "Your father didn't tell me you were so beautiful. As a matter of fact, he talked about you like you were a child," he smiled a beautiful smile. His teeth were a perfect shade of white and aligned for the Gods! Without a doubt this man was blessed.

I was blushing, I could feel it. "Why thank you, Mr. Tutuola. That sounds just like him," I chuckled.

"Here's my business card. Meet me at my office as soon as we're done here." He flashed me a smile and walked away.

     As I walked into the courtroom I saw two guards dragging a man out. It made my stomach ball up in knots. I silently prayed my father had a different fate.

"Bailiff, call the next case," the judge snobbishly demanded.

"The state of New York vs. Sevyn Santino. One count murder in the first degree. One count burglary of a habit. One count possession of a stolen vehicle." I sat there dumbfounded. Where the hell did all these other charges come from?

"How does the defendant plea?" the judge asked looking over her thick glasses.

"Not guilty your honor," my Dad responded confidently.

"Arrangements for bail?"

"The people recommend remand," the white district attorney woman spoke up.

"Your honor," Tutuola began, "my client is not a flight risk, has significant ties to the community, and is the only caregiver for his young daughter. Bail is-"