Jamal On My Block Novels & Stories

She hit post and hoped for the best. The first few replies were weirdos or people who clearly didn’t read the ad. Then Jamal messaged her. His profile picture showed a tall guy with a warm smile, dark skin, and easy confidence. He wrote, “Hey, I’m Jamal, 28, just moved to the city for a trainer job at the new gym downtown. I work a lot but I’m clean, pay rent on time, and I can cook. Mind if we grab coffee and chat?” They met at a little café around the corner from the apartment. Jamal showed up in a black t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and jeans that fit just right. He stood up when she walked in, shaking her hand with a firm but gentle grip.

Zharn's mother smiled from the other side of the table next to her husband and first child. "Indeed." His father curtly replied. "Thank you." I gave my brightest rehearsed smile, hoping it looked as good as it did in my dresser's mirror. I sat down, placing my purse on my lap, and Zharn sat next to me. "Before I forget, I got you something." "You can't have anything I like except for your ginger hair." She replied coolly. "What about a book by Jamilla Coover, the final book of this Break Me series?" I raised up the black and purple popular mystery thriller novel.

Too much personality often resulted in problems. Climbing up the stairs to the master bedroom; the largest of all 5; the mild echo is unmissable and forces him to crave some sound. “Alexa, turn on the music please”, he says into the thin air sounding slightly defeated. Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘How High The Moon’ fills the vacant space all over the building and suddenly he feels less alone.

And this time, it ended faster than she expected. As they walked on the sidewalk, looking for a taxi, a man slapped Jade's butt. He had an evil smirk on his face as he eyed Jade lustfully. Placing his hand on her hair, he brazenly asked her to name her price. Shawn wanted to fight him but Jade told him not to. She simply brushed off his hand and walked away.

my voice was whispered harshly and I followed it towards the darkened corner of the alley behind the pack house. Jamal was waiting there for me. I wouldn’t refer to Jamal as my friend but he served a purpose and we had similar views and standpoints. We wanted the same thing and we were willing to tolerate each other for as long as we needed to get to our endgame. He had dark skin and curly black hair that settled in a mop atop his head. “What do you want?” my response was equally as harsh. “You know that I can’t leave the pack house at weird hours or they will begin to suspect.”

I informed them. “I still have a lot of buddies in prison. And my friends have friends who have friends. Rich boys like you, you will be nothing but playthings for those guys in there,” Jamal said. The police walked inside, and their eyes landed on those losers. “I hope I never get to see your faces ever again in this life,” I said as I walked out. Suddenly, a jacket covered my shoulders, and I looked at Jamal, who smiled. “You did well, but after everything you did. I would suggest that you go to therapy,” he said, and I found myself chuckling a bit but nodded.

stella explained, I could not tell if they was up to no good and pulling my kegs on purpose or if she had spoken the truth. “you know what, lets just go back in there and try scooping up any more memory that can be found, how about that?, it sounds good doesn't it?.” jamal asked even when most words of his sounded more intense I decided to join in on his new ones. “I'm not going back in ther, I

Jamal called out to his mom while waving his little hand at her. “Are you okay, buddy?” Agent Malloy acknowledged Jamal when he looked around and saw that the child struggled to get his mother’s attention. “I gotta pee,” Jamal whimpered to Agent Malloy. He had to pee so badly that he didn’t even care about dropping his Hot Wheels toy car on the floor. “You gotta use the bathroom, baby? Okay, hold on, your mama's coming.” Rashonda bolted over to her child’s bedside with her arms stretched out.

“Strike before they make any funny moves.” Naomi lifted her chin slightly, her eyes fixed on Amanda, cold and lethal. ****** ◈JABAL'S CABAL◈ Jamal sat back in his chair, the smoke curling lazily from the small silver pipe perched between his fingers. He watched the curl of smoke twist toward the ceiling as he lifted his phone, dialed Valen's number and waited. The line clicked and then Valen’s tired voice groaned, “Brother?” “It’s done, Blood,” Jamal said simply, his tone even, almost clinical.

Beauty and Pretty followed his cue and blinked into the dim room like other small moons. “You okay?” Kamal asked, moving off the bed to stand beside him and put a tentative hand on Jamal’s shoulder. There was a brotherly steadiness in Kamal that shouldn’t have belonged to a boy of eight, but it did, and he offered it now as if it were a thing he had in his pocket. Jamal swallowed and forced himself to steady. “Bad dream,” he said. The words came out small. “Again?” Beauty’s voice was a thread of sound. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders like armor.