Jamal Murray Ethnicity Novels & Stories

Thelma whispered to Rhena while eyeing the taller man who was sitting three tables from us now. Rhena nodded to that. Murray was laughing at a joke Jamal was saying, when Jamal suspected he was being scrutinized, his eyes swept the room until they settled directly at us. Quickly, we all wrenched our heads away like we hadn't been staring. "It's rude to stare," Thelma joked, while we all laughed. "Where's Jamal from?" Thelma grew interested. "Why are you interested in him?" I asked her. "He's from north Africa," Rhena put in.

My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon's features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can't help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer. He's of mixed heritage-African American and Mexican National. Seeing him up close and personal makes me wonder more about his heritage because he's fucking gorgeous.

"Her dark skin color was shiny and attractive. She had absolutely everything a guy would want in a lady." He paused for a while, and smiled gently like he was recalling something. But sincerely, everything was so confusing to me already. How could she be a mixed race, if her parents were both of the white race? Did something go wrong? "Ace." I called, as I knitted my brows in puzzlement. "There's one thing I don't think I understand. Jamilah was dark skinned right? But, no one's a black in your family. Or, was she a distant family member?"

My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon’s features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can’t help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer. He’s of mixed heritage—African American and Mexican National. Seeing him up close and personal makes me wonder more about his heritage because he’s fucking gorgeous.

That first year, I traveled and got reacquainted with New York and old friends. The second year, I bumped into an old college classmate leaving the gym one day. Tyler Momoa was a recently retired professional football player. He owned the gym and a couple of others. He is half black and half Samoan with a huge loving family that instantly embraced me.

The private gate opened. Jamal “J-Rex” Thompson, the world-famous Black NBA superstar and music mogul, stepped onto the terrace. Towering at 6’10” with a powerfully sculpted body, his dark skin gleamed under the setting sun. He was known for dominating both the court and the charts. Victoria’s breath caught. “I don’t want the polite version tonight,” she said, voice husky. “I want the raw one.”

My eyes met with the familiar brown orbs of the person I was avoiding, he grinned, smirking devilishly. "Hiding from someone bitch?" He asked, grabbing on to my arms tightly. I kept mute, Jamaal derives pleasure in hurting me. Jamaal Amir Haidar was the sex god of Crown high school, captain of the football team. Mr drop dead gorgeous, ever fresh, good looking and proud. What else could I describe him with, obnoxious, proud, why shouldn't he be proud. His mum has the largest boutiques and shopping malls in the world, his father Minister Haidar, a very respected sheikh was the minister of finance.