Disloyal (Odell Beckham Jr. story)

Chapter 1

Four Years Prior

-ANGELA-

"He's not worth it, Angela. I know what you're doing and you're going to regret it in the long run. You're sacrificing your freedom so that he can keep his, really?"

"Really." I spat at the Hispanic man sitting across from me. He's been interrogating me for the last five hours and we were getting absolutely nowhere. He either needed to release me from his custody or take me to booking; because this questioning shit was nothing but a waste of time. I could tell that I was wearing him out. His loosened tie and the wrinkles on his young face assured it.

"Don't you got a girl at home, or kids to get home to?" Glancing at the clock above the door, the time read 10:55PM. I just knew that Cannon was blowing up my phone. If I ever got out of this room and home safely, I was going to hear his mouth tonight. "My family can wait. What you need to decide is whether you want to go home to YOUR family, or spend the next four years behind bars for protecting this criminal." He pointed down at the photo of Cannon– riding round in his matte black Lambo– before sending daggers my way.

I smirked. "Cannon isn't a criminal, detective. Sure, he doesn't always pay for his newspaper when he snatches it from the stand. But he is very far from a criminal. Babe wouldn't hurt a fly." And it was true. Cannon may have a temper here and there– credited to him being the sign of the bull– but my boyfriend of five years was no criminal. Fuck outta here with that. "You think this is all a big joke, huh? Let's see how hard you're laughing on your bus ride into Blue Ridge. Guards, get this one to transpo!"

——-

[Present]

The air smelled different on this side of the gate. Although the women sporting khaki colored jumpsuits were allowed outside time once a week after breakfast– somehow the air smelled superb today. Or maybe that was a load of B.S. because a bih was finally free? Either way, I stood in from of the prison gates and took in the air for maybe two more minutes. That's when I heard my warden's mouth, telling me to get off her property.

Bitter bitch.

A loud scream fled from my throat once I seen my main's white Infiniti truck pull up. "!!!!" Clutching my old ass Gucci bag to my chest, I took off running towards her truck. She got out and wrapped me in a bear hug just before I could collide with her car door. "BITCH! YOU COMING HOME!" Our hug seemed to last for two centuries before she finally broke the embrace. "I missed you!" I finally spoke, immediately rolling my eyes once I heard my voice crack.

"No crying, bih. You coming home now, ain't no need for that." Taking in her true words, I nodded before walking over to the passenger side. Tossing my old bag to the back seat, I turned to pull on my seat belt. "What?" I could feel her eyes on me.

"First stop is to the Gucci store. I can't have you walking 'round looking like a bum." I scoffed once she tossed her heavy, but up to season Gucci backpack onto my lap. "Ain't it cute? I picked it up last week and the girls have been mad ever since."

"Eww, bitch. Four years ain't change shit about you." She cackled like the bird she is before finally revving up the car, and taking me away from that hell I called home. "But four years have definitely changed a lot about you. Is there no hair dye in prison? Cause your roots look horrid. You looked like you gained a couple pounds too, so I won't even ask about the gym."

"Cut me some slack, bih. Being locked up and depressed causes you to let yourself go. Give me a few weeks and I'll bounce back." Although Mehgan's words were true as fuck, they still stung a little. I guess you could say that looking at her flawless features and luxury items had me feeling a tad insecure at the moment.

I was once a mirror image of her.

"Oh, best believe you'll bounce back. I am working your ass in that gym tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Bih, I just got out!"

"My apologies. I could have sworn in our thousands of phone conversations, that the first thing you planned on doing once you got out was getting your nigga back? Not even trying to be a pain in the ass but you ain't about to catch Cannon's eye looking like some prison dyke. The new girl he got is fiiiine." I smacked my lips just hearing that.

"That nigga really went and got a bitch? While I was away doing time for keeping his wanted ass hidden? Shit, maybe I should have taken that detective's advice and give his sorry ass up." I sunk into my seat as the thought of Cannon with another woman came to haunt me. Ever since Mehgan told me that he wife'd up some bougie bitch last year it's like all I had on my mind was getting out– and getting my nigga back.

I guess that's why the last year of my sentencing went by so quick. A bitch was too busy plotting. "She ain't that bad, is she?"

"You know I keep it 8 more than 92. The bitch is a dime, Angie." I smacked my lips, sinking deeper into my seat. "But so are you. I told you that I got you. Since you're staying with me until your debut, I'm gonna take care of your hair, get you some dope ass clothes, and have you waist training eight hours a day."

"Waist training?" I looked over at her with an arched brow. The fuck was that?

"Lord have mercy, you really were blocked off from the outside world. Bih, waist training is the new body sculpting technique that all these bad ass celebs are doing. I got mine on right now, look." She pulled up to a red light and lifted her denim button up, revealing this zebra printed corset. "Ain't that painful?" I made a face as I looked at how tight she had that shit adjusted to.

"Shit, beauty is pain so I ain't complaining." I fell out laughing once she pulled her shirt down. Turning in my seat, I allowed the images of bum ass Blue Ridge,Georgia to pervade my vision. I couldn't wait to touch back in the A.

Most importantly, I couldn't wait to see my nigga.