STREET KARMA
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Оглавление
Pain. STREET KARMA
Отрывок из книги
I dedicate this project to DA’RYL
—A pure fan, and true friend.
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Looking freshly dipped in Versace silk linens from head to toe, Low was his unflappable self. Flossing five-carat diamond cuff links on his ivory white and gold Versace button-up lit up with every step, Low’s matching ivory white Versace silk slacks were tailor pressed perfect. Cuffed precisely over ivory ostrich skinned, round-tip slip-ons, his slacks were complemented by two large Versace sun pendants on the face of each shoe. Each pendant made of solid gold, with a three-carat diamond flooding the face of the sun—worth about fifty thousand each. Throw in his five-hundred-thousand-dollar, ruby studded Cartier watch, Low looked like a million bucks.
Making his way through the hotel’s massive double doors, Low walked to the valet parking area. A car’s horn caught his attention, and Low’s face lit up when he locked eyes on Red’s McLaren Roadster. Hustlers have a way of communicating without saying a word. The suicide doors swung open on the Benz. Red was telling Low that he was officially in the building. Then Red, one gator foot at a time, stepped out the two-door coupe. Low’s face straight beamed with a great smile. It was a joy similar to a father witnessing his son reaching a higher level of success.
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