Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 5.9K
"Wink at a man (see-line)
And he wink back (see-line)'
Lisa Fischer—"See-Line Woman"
Lena breezed into the Dreamland Club and stood out just as Stack had predicted.
The smaller joint jumped with hot music and a courser crowd than the Sunset Café. Ernie's club entertained an upscale clientele. Dreamland was a mix and match of aspirational high-life negroes and the cut throat dregs of society coloreds. The ballroom interior used a Japanese-themed décor to give a grandiose far-east appeal with decadent red and gold colors drenching the walls.
She glanced at the band playing and recognized a few fellas from around the way, itinerant musicians who played anywhere the money was good. At least she could name-drop some references about her singing abilities. She dropped off her coat at the coat check stand and maneuvered to get a look around. Lena turned heads as she went, and some folks recognized her from the Sunset. She bopped her head, made eye contact with admirers, and shook her hips in time to the music. Surveying various sections of the ballroom, she looked for well-dressed fat cats that could be Will Bottoms or the general rear area where gangsters liked to hide in shadows with owners. She relaxed into the rhythm of the establishment, keeping aware of her surroundings. Several men approached her to dance, and she politely declined, claiming to have a husband that she waited for. After forty minutes of casual spying and meandering about to avoid suitors, she headed over to the cocktail lounge.
"Lena! Heyyyyy bay-beeeee, looking good tonight!"
She looked to her left. A former neighbor waved her over.
"How's it going Harold?"
Lena took advantage of the empty seat at Harold's table that faced the section she wanted to watch. Harold's glazed eyes and slurred speech made him an easy target to pump for information. With slick glossy black hair making waves to the back of his scalp and a pencil-thin mustache, Harold had matinee idol looks, but none of the charm to match. His girlfriend, Gertrude, the plump dollfaced woman seated next to him, was a good friend of Bernice. Gertrude leaned forward and her voluptuous mahogany breasts almost fell out of her dress and onto the table cluttered with empty glasses and cigarette butts.
"We read about the Sunset getting shot up. Are you okay?" Gertrude asked.
"I'm fine. Looking for work until they open back up, though. Is the manager here tonight? Do y'all know who Will Bottoms is?"
"Sure, I know who he is," Harold said, knocking back the drink in his hand.
He pointed to a dapperly dressed, pudgy Black man cozied up next to two young women with pink and white complexions and poorly styled blonde bobs. A portly white man sat with them, his gaze directed at the colored women spinning around with dance partners. They were part of the handful of white faces in the entire ballroom. On the dance floor, Lena spotted a Creole woman Stack used to fuck snuggled in the arms of a well put together white man with thinning hair.
"I heard on the radio that someone killed five people," Harold blurted, his breath wicked from the liquor.
"Yeah, it was pretty bad. Excuse me," Lena said.
She jumped up and made a show of walking past Bottoms's table. He clocked her fast, his eyes sliding from her breasts to her ass as she moseyed over to the cocktail lounge.
Taking a seat at the bar counter, she pulled out one of Smoke's cigarettes she rolled for him before he disappeared on her. Digging for her lighter in her pocketbook, the bartender flicked a light for her and she held the tip in the flame. She inhaled the smoke and blew it out.
"Thanks. Can I get a club soda?"
The balding male bartender nodded.
"This place is jumping tonight…like water on hot grease."
"Guess you ain't heard about the shooting that happened?"
"Over at the Sunset?"
"A lot of their regulars came over here."
"Oh, yeah?"
Lena puffed on her cigarette and glanced over her shoulder. Will Bottoms stayed preoccupied with his table.
"Listen…I'm looking for a job. Any openings here? I can mix drinks, sing… dance if needed. I got rent due and I can really use a gig."
The bartender sized her up and grinned.
"Oh…you one of those Sunset people."
Lena gave him a shy smile. He propped an arm on the counter and leaned on it heavily.
"A bunch of workers from there hustled in earlier tonight. Not dressed like you, though," he said.
"Any of them get hired?"
"Nah, we're staffed tight. These days, ain't nobody tryna lose work. Tough break for you folks until the Sunset re-opens again."
Lena frowned and stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray.
"Guess I'm wasting my time then," she said.
"Not exactly. My boss likes fancy girls that look like you. Maybe if you flirt a little, he'll make an exception about hiring extra help."
"Where is he?"
She pretended to look around.
"He's over at table six. A big man, can't miss him. Fancy gold pocket watch and diamond rings on his fingers."
"What's your name?"
"Brodie."
Lena reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a dollar.
"Thanks for your help."
She placed the money on the counter, and Brodie looked at it.
"You tipping dollar bills… are you sure you need work?"
She grinned and slid off her seat. Guzzling her club soda quickly, she left the bar and circled the ballroom. No need to go directly to Bottoms. It was better to ease up on him while searching for signs of Ernie. A gorgeous ebony-skinned beauty tugged on Lena's arm.
"You're Lena, right?" the woman asked. "From the Sunset?"
"Do I know you?"
"I'm Louise, Stack's girl."
"Stack's girl?"
"Yeah, he's staying with me. Have you seen him?"
Louise appeared annoyed having to ask Lena anything. Loose waves styled her long, lush hair, and her statuesque body, with its perfect curves like Lena's, filled out a royal blue plunging-back dress. A dancer.
"I'm worried about him. He didn't come home last night, and I know you're connected to Ernie and all those gangsters over there."
"How long has he been staying with you?"
Loiuse shifted her weight to her left leg and tilted her head.
"What's it to you? That's my man, and I want to know where he is."
"Sorry, I don't know."
"Well, I know he ain't dead. If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."
Louise turned her head and walked over to a group of women gossiping near the edge of the dance floor. Lena watched her for a moment. So that's where Stack hid the last two weeks he'd been gone. Shacked up with an old lover. She'd have to let Max know he was wrong about the man's tastes in women. Louise was a goddamn dark velvet dream girl. Even Lena wanted a taste of her. Perhaps she could finesse a threesome to watch Stack work his magic stick on the woman. She wondered if he picked out her wardrobe too with that form-fitting dress.
Louise glanced back and caught Lena checking her out. The woman's expression didn't seem to mind the direct, seductive staring. Her full lips ticked up into a knowing smile at Lena. As tempting as Loiuse looked, the night had to be about her work for the twins.
Lena turned and locked in on Will Bottoms.
Wait.
He'd moved from his seat.
Lena drifted around the edges of the dance floor searching for signs of the man and couldn't find him. She circled back around, and his table stayed empty. Even the white people had left the area. Feeling bold, she sat down, ignoring the Reserved Seating sign in the middle of the table. She plopped her pocketbook next to an ashtray and signaled for a server. A young colored man rushed over in an ill-fitting uniform.
"Mr. Bottoms wants a bottle of champagne brought over to this table with two glasses," Lena said.
"Yes, ma'am."
The server headed for the bar. Lena studied every corner in her line of sight.
There.
Will Bottoms mingled among the patrons while smoking a cigar. He stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Lena sitting at his table.
She winked at him.
He winked back.
The server returned with the opened bottle of champagne and poured it into the two glasses Lena requested.
"Mr. Will Bottoms?" she said.
He squeezed into the chair next to her. She handed him a glass of champagne.
"Who may you be?"
"Lena."
"Lena…?"
"Just Lena."
She sipped some champagne and let her shoulder touch his.
"I heard you were the boss I needed to speak to about getting a job."
"Oh, I don't need any new staff."
"Sorry to hear that. I'm an excellent bartender. I can sing, too."
"I have enough bartenders and plenty of singers and dancers. What else can you do?"
His eyes drifted down to her body.
"What else do you need?" she purred.
Ernie came into view.
Surrounded by his personal bodyguard and two other Bronzeville gangsters, Ernie strolled toward Bottoms's table. He noticed her right off and frowned.
"I have to use the ladies' room," she said.
She put down the champagne glass and hurried away from her seat.
Ernie reached Bottoms's table and sat down. The men shook hands, and Ernie leaned in close to whisper something. He handed over a fat envelope that had to be a payout. Lena quickly hid behind a post the moment Ernie's brooding eyes swept the ballroom.
The band struck up a faster-paced song and more people headed to the dance floor, giving her a chance to blend in. She bolted toward the coat check and halted. Raising her eyes high above the heads of the dancers, Lena shuddered at the spectacle stealing the shine from the massive crystal chandelier.
The shadow of The Gatekeeper loomed on the ceiling, his cane twirling like a propeller.
Papa Legba.
The Guardian of the Crossroads.
An icy dread coursed through her veins as the dark shadow extended above, its forward momentum making a direct path to her. Lena scurried from the alarming presence and ran smack into Ernie and his minions.
"Whoa, slow down Lena," Ernie said.
"I gotta go," she said, glancing behind her.
"You here for work?"
Ernie's lips quirked into a smile. But his eyes didn't carry the same pleasant reaction.
"I saw you with Will. The Sunset will open up again in three days. You need money?"
Ernie pulled out folded bills held together by a gold money clip.
"I can't have my best bartender leaving me for this dump."
Ernie peeled off a one hundred-dollar bill and tucked it between her breasts.
"Get out of here," he demanded.
Glancing at the ceiling again, Lena searched for the creeping shadow. The specter had vanished and the chandelier sparkled once more. She spotted a phone booth in the back and darted toward it. Sliding the wood and glass door open, she popped inside and slammed it shut. Pulling a nickel from her pocketbook, she dropped it in the coin slot and dialed her apartment, hoping one twin was still there. No one answered.
She hung up and reused the nickel again.
Both twins were gone from her place.
Lena couldn't shake the fear of Papa Legba showing part of his physical manifestation in a public space. That had never happened before in her long existence.
Popping the coin back in her purse, she turned and opened the booth door.
A black envelope sat on the ground.
Lena lifted it.
Ripping off the gold seal, she read the name inside. She sighed and dropped everything on the ground, watching the card stock and envelope burn away. Her steps were quick and sure, leaving Dreamland. She dipped into an alley and hid behind old crates dumped behind the ballroom. Stripping off her clothes, she rested against a dirty wall and let her body's metamorphosis consume the flesh she lived in with searing heat. She flapped her crow wings and took to the sky, searching for a young woman on the other side of town, happy to leave the apparition of The Guardian behind.
The apartment was too quiet without the twins.
She paced the floor of her sitting room, thinking about Dreamland and Papa Legba. For him to cross the veil openly had to mean something was going on in the human world. Something out of order.
Lena considered staying in her apartment until the twins returned, but the urge to seek her kind for answers piloted her feet back into the dark streets. She caught a cab to a garden apartment building east of her home and waited on a corner. Looking up to the sixth floor corner unit, a window stood open with billowing curtains. She sat down at a bus stop bench and waited.
Within a few minutes, a large crow flew onto the windowsill that Lena kept vigil over.
"Silas!"
The crow jerked its head in her direction, recognizing her.
Lena scurried across the street and climbed up the stairs to the sixth floor. Silas resumed his human form and leaned against the doorjamb of his apartment fully nude, his deep onyx skin pleasing to the eye. His tapered hair gave his face a neat appearance.
"Sister," he said, making space for her to pass him into the apartment.
Lena stepped in and he sensed her agitation.
"What brings you to my sector of the city?" he asked, with a wide grin on his sculpted face.
"I saw Papa Legba."
The grin melted from his lips.
"Saw him? Where?"
"At Dreamland. I was there looking for a job and …his presence was there."
"His presence or him?"
"I left before he fully manifested."
"Let me see."
Silas approached her and pressed his forehead against hers to make a connection and once their skin touched, he traveled into her mind's eye of the past, experiencing all that she witnessed in Dreamland. Including her profound fear. Silas gasped and his skin broke out into a pungent-smelling sweat.
"This is quite distressing. What have you been doing, Lena?"
His accusatory tone startled her.
"Doing my work like you."
He pointed a finger at her.
"No. You have done a transgression."
"I've done no such thing, Silas."
"The Guardian doesn't come through the veil unless there is a misdeed. Or…."
Silas touched his chin.
"Or?" she prodded.
"Who have you been hanging around lately?"
"My usual crowd at the Sunset. There was a shooting the other night, nothing out of the ordinary for these particular humans."
"Think, Lena. Who are you connecting with more than usual?"
Smoke and Stack came to mind immediately.
"The twins."
Silas studied her expression.
"Could they be Ibeji?" he said.
"They're just gangsters—"
"Who are they?"
"Smoke and Stack."
"Are those their birth names?"
Lena blinked. She didn't know their real names.
"Their last name is Moore. People call them by those nicknames."
Silas walked around her, contemplating and shaking his head, lost in his own thoughts. He stopped and touched her face.
"You must find out who they truly are. If they carry the Ibeji spirit in human form, they may be attracting Papa Legba here, and that is dangerous. He only comes when he isn't called to give a warning…or to prevent an indiscretion."
Silas pushed her toward the front door.
"Get them. Find out who they are."
"If I do find something relevant, what do I do?"
"Get away from them."
"And then what?"
Silas gave an unwelcoming energy. He didn't want her there with him.
"Pray that Papa Legba doesn't come back again."
He slammed the door in her face.
She waited for the twins all night and into the next day.
Smoke called her first; his voice clipped and concise.
"I'll be back soon. Is Stack there?" he said.
"No. He hasn't called either. I saw Ernie last night. He gave Will a fat envelope.'
"Did Ernie see you?"
"Yes. I was asking Will for a job. He gave me some money and told me to leave. The Sunset opens up in a few days."
He stayed quiet.
"Smoke, are you okay? Safe?"
"I'm fine. Anyone follow you home?"
"No."
"Good. Stay put."
He hung up.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again.
"Hello?"
"It's me. Stack. My brother there?"
"No, not yet."
"When he gets there, tell him I'm stuck outside for the night. Nothing I can't handle, but I won't be back until I can shake some of Moran's boys off me."
"Where are you? Maybe I can help.'
"Nah. You stay there. Nothin' you can do anyway."
"Where are you hiding so I can tell Smoke?"
"A friend's."
"Louise?"
"How you know that name?"
"I met her at Dreamland. She asked me where to find you."
"Lena…I can explain about her."
"No need. Just be careful…I'm worried about you."
"I'll be okay. Stayed at Louise's because she's near a police station. Nobody wants to be around that place, attracting attention. I got a bunch of clothes here I'll be bringing to your place in the morning. She let me crash here while I was running around."
"I told you, silly. You don't have to explain."
"I love you, Lena. Louise is old news. I just needed her place to hide out."
"Get here when you can."
"I will."
Stack…?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Please stay safe. I'm going to fret all day until you come back to me."
"See you soon."
Lena bathed and washed her hair, letting it air dry before covering it with a hat. Staying in her apartment would drive her nuts. Leaving a spare key under her doormat, she kept a hair appointment with her hairdresser. She listened to fresh gossip and speculation about the Sunset shooting as her stylist pressed and curled her springy tresses.
A trip to the corner grocer kept her busy, and by six in the evening she was back in her apartment.
Another black envelope waited for her under her front door.
She left the bathroom window open with the door closed. After shifting into her crow form, she leapt from the windowsill as the sky changed colors from dark blue to black with the onset of evening. She delivered the soul of a middle-aged man and returned to her bathroom window. Peering down onto the street, she noticed Silas watching her from across the street. He smoked a cigarette, waved at her, and wandered down the block.
His spying unnerved her.
The bathroom door swung open, and a light flicked on.
"The fuck?!" Smoke yelled.
Lena flapped her wings, cawed in loud surprise, and Smoke tried to shove her out the window. She jabbed at his hands with her beak. He ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut. She dropped to the floor as her body surged with heat. Bones expanded, skin stretched, and feathers retreated.
Smoke burst through the door again, carrying a broom that he swung forward. Lena held out an arm to him as she turned on the bath water with her free hand.
"Lena?"
Smoke looked around the bathroom.
"Did that crow go out the window?"
"Yeah. I heard you come in. You started fussing, so I ran in here."
"Naked?"
"I was…in my bedroom. Waiting for you. I thought you'd like to have a bath first before, um…before…"
Standing naked in front of him flustered her words. Thinking of Silas outside…thinking of what he said, Lena stared at Smoke.
"You take a bath," she said. "I'll cook for you, and we can wait for Stack. He called and said he's hiding out with Louise."
Smoke sucked his teeth in irritation. The side of his cheek quivered.
"A woman will be his downfall if he don't watch his back."
"Does that include me?"
"Nah. You different. Responsible. He plays around too much. The wrong woman will get you plugged or stabbed if a man ain't careful. My brother is always thinking with his dick."
"Go put the broom away. Come back and get undressed."
She tested the water's heat, and Smoke took the broom away. He stripped away his clothes in another room and waltzed back in the bathroom nude.
"Get in," she said, adding scented bath salts to the warm water.
Smoke climbed his weary body in and soaked. He squeezed his eyes shut and Lena washed him with a fluffy yellow sponge. She added a few luxury oils.
"I don't need all that woman shit in this water."
"Woman shit?"
Lena climbed into the tub and sat in front of him on her knees. She rinsed the front of her body and he studied every drop of water that rolled down her breasts and dangled from her pert nipples.
"It's like you're adding seasoning to cook me or something."
The left side of his mouth curled up, and he gripped the sides of the large claw-foot tub. Leaning back, his eyes became slits as the scent rising from the water soothed him.
"Lavender and jasmine oil calms the nerves, balances the mind," she said.
"You sound like my wife."
"Wise woman."
"Yeah…she's wise…and…stubborn…and…soft…so soft…"
He dozed off.
Lena rubbed his arms and chest with the sponge, swiping the oils in the water across his skin. She wiped down the center of his body, delighting in the soft chest hairs and the wide planes of his chest glistening. He fell deeper into his sleep and she waved her hand over his closed eyelids, making sure he went deeper. She turned her body around and sank down into the water, resting her back against his chest. Reaching for his arms, she pulled them down around her and nestled into comfort.
Closing her own eyes, Lena took a deep breath and relaxed her body and mind. Smoke sank deeper, his slumber slowing down with his breathing.
"Take me where you are, Smoke. Take me with you," she whispered.
Her consciousness floated to where she could enter his dreams in a cloud of swirling colors and flecks of gold lights, and she fell…down, down, down, into the realm of his dreamscape.
She became aware of heat and the scent of wet cotton bolls.
With bare feet, Lena walked through a row of cotton plants standing high and swaying with an early morning breeze. The plants bent forward as a gust of wind rush across a vast cotton field.
Smoke strode ahead of her, dressed in his grayish-blue tweed suit, his shoes smashing down the grayish-brown dirt that felt soft under her feet. She followed the eldest twin, and the scenery became fuzzy and he stood in front of a small wooden shack. A wind chime tinkled with the breeze and the sound brought forth a woman onto the small porch steps. She stood there dark, like the rich earth that brought life into the world, and her tall, curvy body beckoned Smoke to move an inch forward. Her face shined with divine beauty, the dark flashing eyes sharp and steady. The work belt around her waist cinched her middle tight. Her straight posture, high breasts, and the healing, warrior woman energy she projected impressed Lena. Smoke wasn't a slouch when choosing the perfect wife.
"Annie," he said.
"You come to me like this again?" Annie said.
Her Creole accent sounded thick. Louisiana gumbo thick. Smoke chewed on the side of his cheek and lowered his head with shame. Annie looked past him, right at Lena.
"Why you bring her here?" Annie said.
Smoke glances back. He doesn't see Lena at all. His expression clouds with confusion.
"I'm by myself," he said.
"Mmmph. So you say."
Annie looked him over and then rested her eyes on Lena.
"He don't know you here?" Annie asked.
Lena took a step back. The tone of Annie's voice came from deep within, the reverberation sparkling across the air that carried it in a fearsome blast.
A Hoodoo woman.
The space around Annie's face turned fuzzy, and specks of light floated like dust motes in sunlight all around her head and neck.
"He doesn't."
"Why you here, haint?"
"I'm here to watch over him."
"He don't need you to do that… he got me."
Her voice came out stern. A warning for Lena to watch her step treading around her husband.
Smoke reached for Annie's hand and she clasped it.
"Come inside," she said.
Smoke climbed the steps and walked in past her. Because the words targeted her, Lena also stepped forward.
The shack is a small Hoodoo shop.
Lena took in the bottles of ointment, oils, and medicine, manufactured and homemade on shelves. Inside smelled of sage, lavender, and wood smoke for drying herbs quicker and even traces of the goats Annie kept outside in a little pen. Smoke headed for a spot near some bottles and reached behind a small beam for matches. He lifted a pipe in his hand that seemed to wait for him there on a shelf. In this place, his hands didn't shake as he struck a light and puffed. The scent of tobacco added its powerful odor to the cramped space filled with wondrous potions and powerful conjure magic.
"Let me be here, Annie. I don't want to argue or hear you fuss at me," Smoke said.
"I won't fuss," she said, keeping her eyes on Lena.
"Good. I'ma go pay my respects to Selah and then I'll sit a spell."
Smoke walked back outside and headed for a small grove of trees that gave shade to a white bottle, a small rock, and a pointy wooden totem. The moment he left, Annie turned her attention to Lena.
"Are you the one who keeps him from coming home to me?" Annie said.
"He has free will. Just like you."
"What are you to him? You act human, but…you spirit, too. A trickster? Demon maybe?"
"You wouldn't let a demon in here, Annie. You're too smart for that."
Lena stood on the other side of a small work counter, facing Annie.
"You his lover?"
Annie tilted her chin up, bracing herself for what she never wanted to hear. She may have suspected her husband of being unfaithful, being so long gone, but she didn't want to hear it. Lena couldn't lie.
"I am."
Annie closed her eyes and let out a shallow breath.
"But you ain't human."
"I am not."
"How can that be? Laying down with a human man and not wanting to harm him?"
"He gives me pleasure, yes. That's all I seek from him. And his brother."
"Stack? You have relations with him, too?"
Lena reached out and touched Annie's hand. She flinched and yanked her hand back."
"A shifter! You're a demon. This form is to trick me," Annie blurted in fear.
"Shall I show you my true form, Annie?"
Annie tilted her head and reached for an untied mojo bag on the counter.
"No demon here, love. I promise," Lena said.
She allowed her human body to liquify and slide into her expansive crow body. Afterward, she hopped up on the counter in her avian shape and spoke to the woman.
"See? You can think of me as an emissary, or a guardian spirit—"
"I smell death on you."
"I am not death. But I know her well, as do you."
Lena glanced out of the open door and watched Smoke spend time at the gravesite.
"Our daughter. Selah. His pain keeps him from coming home to us. Are you going to take Elijah away from me, too?"
Elijah.
Lena turned the name over in her mind, looked at it from all angles.
"That man has a lot of life to live yet. In fact, Stack may be dragging them both back here."
Annie smirked. It was the first time Lena witnessed her face relaxing a tad bit.
"Elias is the one who dragged my husband away from here in the first place after the war. Can't have one without the other. Always been that way. How is he doing up north? Chicago treating them well?"
"Chicago is not the place for—"
Lena stopped speaking and stared at the two wooden figures on a shelf near the door.
"Ibeji," Lena said.
She cawed and flapped her wings, flying over to a wooden stand holding dried herbs.
"That belonged to the twins' mother, Taiwo. She was a powerful Hoodoo woman. I learned plenty from her. That's Elijah and Elias. Their momma said to keep those figures together and the twins would never part. As long as they never came back to Clarksdale. I guess she didn't count on Smoke leaving me behind."
Annie touched the figures.
"These old wooden statues have chipped away and broken apart over the years. I try my best to glue them if they need it," Annie said.
Lena's wings felt damp suddenly and smelled of jasmine and lavender.
Smoke was slowly waking up.
"He'll come home, eventually. He loves you, Annie. You won't remember anything about me."
Outside, Smoke turned and walked toward the shack. He carried the pipe in his hand.
"I need him," Annie said.
Smoke stepped inside and swept Annie up in his arms, kissing her and tossing the pipe on the counter.
"I need you," Smoke said to his wife.
Lena flapped her wings and flew outside, far across the cotton fields. She soared above the Sunflower River and tears flowed from her crow eyes until she splashed in lukewarm water that smelled of sweet bath oils.
Smoke groaned behind her, and she lifted from his chest. His groans turned into moans as she noticed his erection bobbing in the water.
"Annie," he gasped.
His dick pulsed and the shiny head throbbed and spewed semen in thick ribbons down the side of his shaft. He moaned Annie's name again, and the corners of his eyes leaked tears. But there was a smile on his face.
Lena touched his lips.
"Elijah," she said.
He murmured under his breath, and his eyes opened.
Lena used the sponge to wipe his lower parts down.
"Welcome back," she said.
Smoke blinked and sat up in the tub.
"I had a dream," he said.
"What did you dream of?"
"Home," he said. "I think…I'm not sure. But I felt like I was home. You were there, too. At least in the beginning."
Another chill crept across Lena. That was impossible. She cast him into a deep slumber where no memories were to be kept upon return.
"You were flying behind me, above the cotton fields. Every time I looked back, things looked blurry…I think you were a bird…or maybe an angel."
Lena's stomach churned. Nausea coated the back of her throat. She fought it back down and forced a smile across her lips.
No wonder Papa Legba came forth.
Smoke could pierce the veil between worlds and didn't know it. He saw her in his dream.
She rushed out of the tub and grabbed a towel from a rack.
"This water is too cool now. Come out," she said, holding open the large blue towel.
Elijah and Elias…Smoke and Stack…they were Ibeji.
Smoke climbed out and she wrapped the towel around his waist.
"What is it Lena? You're shivering," he said.
"I'm chilly because of the cold water. Go into my bedroom and rest. I'll join you there."
He padded out of the bathroom and she gripped the sides of the sink. Her eyes looked wild in the mirror.
The doorbell of her apartment rang. She pulled on a robe hanging on a hook behind the bathroom door. Smoke stood in her living room, holding his gun.
Stack wouldn't ring her doorbell. He had a key to her place. No one else knew where she lived except for Bernice, and she would call first before coming over. More than that, the front desk would ring her to warn of strange visitors.
Smoke waved his gun for her to get behind him.
She did.
He crept to the door.
"Who is it?" he said.
"Louise. I brought the clothes like you wanted."
Smoke handed Lena the gun and flung open the door.
"Since when have you been staying here, baby?"
Louise sauntered in, carrying a pile of suits, and kissed Smoke on the lips. She halted once she noticed Lena pointing a gun at her.
"What is she doing here, Stack?" Louise whined.
"You got me mixed up with somebody else," Smoke said.
Louise threw the suits on the floor and slammed her hands on her hips.
"I bring all your things clear across town and you're holed up with some floozy?"
Louise smacked both her hands on his chest.
"Nigga, I cooked and cleaned for you for two weeks! I rubbed your feet and sucked your dick!"
Smoke slammed the door shut to keep the neighbors from hearing in the hallway.
"I'm not Stack!"
"The fuck you is!"
"Look at his teeth," Lena said.
"Don't even get me started with you, little hussy."
"Look at his teeth, Louise!" Lena shouted.
Smoke gave an unfriendly smile, flashing his teeth.
"Look where the gold is," Lena said.
Louise stared at his teeth.
"Stack has gold on the other side. And he has more of it," Lena said.
Louise stood back and observed every inch of Smoke. She still didn't appear convinced.
The phone rang.
Lena ran to it on a side table and lifted the receiver.
"Hey, it's me," Stack said.
"It's Stack," Lena told Smoke.
Louise stomped across the floor and snatched the phone from her hands.
"Who is this?" Louise said.
Her expression changed from irritation to bewilderment. She glanced over at Smoke.
"Twins?" Louise said.
Smoke took the phone from her and scolded his brother for sending a stranger to their hideout.
"You want a drink?" Lena asked.
Befuddled, Louise nodded.
"I'm so sorry. I thought he was Stack."
Lena poured her a shot of spiced rum, and Louise gulped it down quickly.
"They look exactly the same, from the part in the hair down to the bulge in the towel," Louise said.
Smoke slammed the phone back on its cradle.
"We got a problem," Smoke said.
He gestured for Lena to give him back his gun.
"Go get dressed. You're coming with me," Smoke said.
Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 5K
Masterlist HERE.
"See-line woman (see-line)"
Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"
Lena froze when the Tommy Gun blasted the ceiling first.
She fought the automatic flight or fight impulse she'd learned from humans to blend in with their natural fear. Instead of ducking like the other patrons and co-workers, she covered her ears and stared the shooter in the face.
"Lena!"
Both Smoke and Stake hollered her name, the fear in their voices pushing Lena to step back. She tripped over Bobby who'd been hit in the shoulder and bled profusely. The screams and shouts of frightened people thrust her into action as the shooter aimed for the twins now that everyone else cowered on the floor or fled the premises. Bullets flew from all directions, shattering liquor bottles, glasses, and the mirror behind the counter. The ensuing melee dredged up more cries of terror. Bernice and Caroline screamed their heads off before Stack shoved them to the floor.
Smoke snatched his two guns from his double holster and plugged holes into the first assailant. Stack leaped over the counter and shielded Lena with his body.
"C'mon, baby, we gotta move!" he shouted to her.
"Bobby…"
"Don't worry about him."
Max and Frank dragged Bobby by his arms to safety beneath the counter before hustling him through the employees-only door that led to the kitchen. Stack shoved her through that door and ran back to help his brother, pulling out a gun he kept on his ankle and the new brass knuckle blade he carried.
The kitchen staff, Max, Frank, and Bobby, escaped outside through the kitchen delivery chute. Bernice, Caroline and two other servers wept and ran through the double doors, headed out after the others. Their shrieks echoed out in the chaotic street where other patrons sought safety.
Lena waited for Smoke and Stack hidden behind boxes of fresh produce. They didn't allow her to interfere with human actions. Fate and Death controlled the outcome. She could already sense Fate moving through the building, her otherworldly energy surging like winds of a hurricane gathering across Lena's arms. Chance had showed up too, his shadow sliding across the ceiling offering pathways of escape if Fate overlooked a soul by being preoccupied with another human in her midst. Lena was grateful that no envelopes appeared for her to work at that moment. She only wanted to be with the twins, not ferrying souls.
The sounds of gunfire ceased abruptly.
Lena snuck through the kitchen doors and back into the main room. Smoke and Stack peered at the men they put down. Some guards that had been hired as extra protection were killed, and sprawled about in cooling heaps of dead flesh.
Smoke glanced at Lena.
"Why the hell are you still here?" he snapped.
Stack ran over to her.
"Get outta here. The cops will arrive soon," Stack insisted, pushing her toward the kitchen.
"I'm not going without the both of you," she said, pushing Stack's hand away.
Smoke holstered his guns.
"We gotta hide out for awhile. The streets will be hot after this," Smoke told Stack.
"You can stay with me," Lena blurted.
The twins eyed each other warily.
Ernie dashed out from behind the wall drapes, his personal bodyguard by his side, gun held high. The Black godfather surveyed the carnage in the club and frowned. He glared at the twins.
"How the fuck you two survive all this?" Ernie shouted.
Lena wondered about that, too.
"Any civilians hurt?" Ernie asked.
"Just Bobby," Stack said, shoving his blade into his belt.
"Then it's gotta be hittas from O'Banion and Moran. Real pros. Y'all get outta here. Lena, you and the staff stay clear. Give me a week to deal with this," Ernie said.
Stack clasped her hand and dragged her toward the secret gambling room. An emergency exit that led into an alley would keep them covered.
"She ain't working here no more, Ernie," Stack said.
Smoke followed them into the hidden room and out the private exit. The alley's darkness provided cover, and they dashed over to the roadster. Lena jumped in the back and Smoke took the driver's side. Once Stack hopped in next to his brother, they tore off into the night. Lena gazed upward as a murder of crows flocked toward the cold, black sky without her in their ranks. The souls of the newly dead glowed like tiny specks of star-shine on their wings.
Smoke and Stack remained quiet, going up her elevator. The stooped shoulders of the older Black elevator operator faced the three of them, and Lena tamped down on the stirrings of unease hounding her. She expected an explosion from the twins in proximity with her, but thus far, they'd acted solemn for two men sharing the same woman. Not even the chaos of being shot at from all directions in the club fazed them. Smoke's left hand showed tremors, and he clasped it with his right to control the shaking. They never shook when he held guns, though. Stack paid the elevator operator a twenty and the old man knew to keep his mouth shut about seeing them with her.
She opened the apartment door, and both men headed for her private bar at the same time. That set Stack off, and he shoved his brother against the wall.
"Selfish bastard!" Stack yelled.
He stomped over to Lena and grabbed the front of her dress, ripping off several buttons.
"How long you been fucking him, huh?"
His voice cracked with rage and the warmth of his breath baptized her in the pangs of hurt embedded in the words. Smoke strode over and pulled his brother off her. She clutched at her torn clothing and resigned herself to accepting the outburst. Smoke tussled with Stack.
"Let go of me!"
Stack wrenched Smoke's hands away and stuck his finger in his older brother's face.
"You move dirty on your own blood? Letting another woman come between us again? All the bitches in this city and you mess with her?!"
"I didn't know about you and her."
Smoke's voice remained calm. He glanced over at Lena.
"It's my fault. I wanted you both," Lena offered.
Stack whirled around in attack mode.
"Two brothers…two men from the same family…?"
"Why does it matter? You take women whenever you want. I've seen you go after sisters, stringing them along, happy to get what you want from them. Why can't I do the same with the infamous Smokestack twins?"
Stack's eyes squinted, and his lips curled into a snarl.
"You're the most devious bitch I've ever met. Can't trust none of you whores—"
"But you liked me just fine when I was sucking your dick and letting you cum inside me! As long as I was taking care of Big Stack sexually, wasn't no concern about who else I was fucking."
Stack swung an arm out to grab her again. Smoke held him back. She locked eyes with the older twin and he didn't seem surprised or upset.
"I swear to god these Black bitches always plotting on a nigga," Stack spat.
"Fuck you, Stack. All those white hoes and mulattos you fuck do the same shit. You're just mad that I'm not begging for your forgiveness. I fucked you and your brother. So what? I'd fuck you both again in a heartbeat and wouldn't feel no way about it either."
"You delusional slut…I'm done with you," Stack barked.
He jerked away from Smoke, his anger diffused from his brother as a target. Just the way she knew it would.
"Are you truly done with me?" she said.
Lena put a hand on her hip, letting her torn dress fly open revealing her bra.
"You were damn near crying while eating my pussy…fix yourself a drink and sit down," she said, walking toward her bedroom.
Smoke let out an unusual laugh and placed a fist against his lips. Stack scoffed.
"Nigga, whatchu laughing for? She tricked on your ass, too."
Smoke waved his hand dismissively.
"We got more things to worry about than this."
Lena paused at the entrance of her hallway.
"You two can take the last rooms. The beds are made up already. Fresh towels and other toiletries in the bathroom are available," she said.
Smoke nodded. Stack poured himself a whiskey and cut his eyes at her.
"Beds probably got cum stains from all kinds of niggas running through here in a spot I fucking pay for," Stack grumbled.
"Only two men been in my bed or this apartment… you…and him—"
The whiskey glass Stack once held crashed and shattered on the wall next to her. Startled, Lena held her hands up to protect her face from getting cut.
"Shut your fucking whore mouth up!" Stack shouted.
Smoke pushed his brother, his eyes smoldering with fury.
"That's enough," Smoke warned. "What's done is done."
Lena touched her top lip. Blood soaked her fingertips. A shard of glass had cut her skin. Stack stared at her.
"Lena?"
He rushed to her side.
"Aw, damn, baby I'm sorry…"
He touched her mouth, and she hissed with the sharp stinging pain. Her eyes watered and she struck him with fast hands, her fury windmilling the fuck out of his face, disheveling his hair and clothes. Smoke ran over and intervened; she let him have it, too, disappointed that he didn't feel a way about her fucking someone else, regardless of it being Stack.
"Lena! Stop!" Stack yelped, drawing back from her.
He finally lifted her over his shoulder and carried her to the master bedroom. Tossing her on the bed gently, he held her arms to her sides.
"I said I'm sorry. Lemme take care of that cut," Stack said.
"Get out of my room!"
"Woman, hush. I pay for all this shit. Sitcho ass here and wait for me."
He squeezed past Smoke in the doorway who wandered in to check on her.
"It's not too bad," Smoke said, touching it.
Lena winced and Stack rushed back in with ice wrapped in a kitchen cloth. He held it against her lip.
"This will keep any swelling down. Should stop bleeding in a minute."
She pressed the cloth against her lip. Both twins peered down at her. Concern spread across their identical faces.
"Go away. I'm tired. We all got shot at and I want to forget this night ever happened."
Lena flopped on her side, keeping her lip covered.
The brothers fussed on their way out of her bedroom and she listened to their heated argument muffled down the hall for over an hour. Stack broke a few things in the living room. She didn't jump up to investigate. He had to deal with his frustration the best way he knew how, through tearing up things he bought for her. Loud cursing took over. One twin dragged past her open bedroom door, but she didn't look to see who it was before she dozed off.
At dawn, she woke up to find Stack nuzzled against her, holding her tight. Her lip was healed completely, and she knew there'd be no bruising or swelling.
She left the bed to use the bathroom. The last bedroom door was closed. Smoke snored loud enough to hear. Lena peed, brushed her teeth, and took a bath. She slipped into a pale green satin night slip back in her bedroom before crawling under the covers with Stack. He was butt naked with an early morning erection.
"Be still now…shit…tryna sleep," he mumbled.
Lena poked his face.
"I thought you were done with me," she said.
He pushed her finger away. She lifted his top lip to check his teeth. Stack had gold on the right side of his mouth. Smoke had a little bit of gold on his left. She was definitely in bed with Stack.
"Why are you in bed with me?"
"Shut up."
"Make me."
She poked at his face again.
"C'mon, now stop playin.' I'm tired and still mad at you."
"How mad?"
He frowned with his eyes still closed and turned over, curling into the fetal position. She rubbed on his arm and spooned her body around his, letting her warmth drain into his back.
"Leave me alone."
"If you wanted to be left alone, you wouldn't be balled up in my bed naked as the day you were born."
"A nigga can be pissed and—"
"And what?"
"Go to sleep."
Lena hugged him and trailed a finger across his cheek. She kissed his temple and settled in.
"Why you have to sleep with him, Lena? It could've been anyone else but him."
"I like you both. I wanted you both. It's like… I couldn't have one without the other. Stack…I don't want to hurt you or him. The both of you together are magic to me."
"That's not making me feel better. I don't like sharing nothin'. It's not right for you to come between us—"
"It doesn't have to be that way. We can all be together…whenever we want. Now I don't have to hide anything."
"You don't have any self respect for yourself? A woman ain't supposed to be whoring around with two men at the same time. Definitely not two fucking brothers either."
"What I do with you is whoring? So ain't you a whore, too? You don't see me saying shit about all the harlots you've paraded around town before we got together. The ones you fucked at the same time. I've heard about your threesomes and foursomes."
Stack turned around on the bed.
"That's different. I'm a man."
"So?"
"We got needs that a woman wouldn't understand."
"Women have needs, too. I like dick…pussy too when the right women get my attention."
Stack's face scrunched up into a look of abject horror.
"You sleep with women, too?"
"Two at a time, if I'm in the mood."
"Now that's just…well…that's just…how come you ain't never fucked other bitches with me?"
"The hypocrisy."
Lena shoved back his forehead with two fingers. The corners of his lips tugged down.
"It's not right, Lena. What you're doing to me and Smoke."
She rested her forehead against his.
"You and Smoke make me happy. Happier than I've ever been in a long, long time. I hid it from you because you wouldn't understand my feelings…my need to have you both in my life."
"I can't be with you if you keep seeing him."
"That's your choice."
"That's it? My choice? You can cut me off that easy?"
"I told you what I want."
"Maybe he don't want that either."
"He's not acting upset."
"That's because he keeps everything locked up inside. I know my brother. If he's with you, that means he wants you. He don't get with just any woman."
Lena pulled back and stroked the hair on his chin.
"Who was the woman that got in between you before?"
Stack's eyebrows shot up.
"What?"
"Last night you yelled at Smoke about another woman getting in between you before…"
He shook his head and turned away again.
"I'm not talking about that."
"She hurt you that bad?"
"She married him."
Stack shoved the blankets away and sat up on the edge of the bed.
"We came to an understanding about her. But I'm not willing to do so for you," he said.
"We don't have to do anything but just be. Why can't you trust in that?"
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
He sighed heavily and then leaned over to kiss her lips.
"I'm going to sleep in the other room," he said.
He kissed her mouth and padded out of the bedroom with his dick swinging.
Lena dragged out of bed by noon and cooked a big breakfast.
The odor of bacon, fried eggs, grits, and toast lured the twins out of their separate rooms. Smoke walked into her kitchen first, wearing his undershirt and pants. Stack wandered in shirtless and his bottom half covered in striped boxers. They each sat at the ends of the table. She put the crispier pieces of bacon and harder fried eggs on Smoke's plate the way he liked them, and the flimsier strips and softer eggs on Stack's plate the way he preferred. After scooping out grits for them, she fixed her own plate and sat in the middle seat. They ate quietly. Stack glared at his brother a few times and Smoke looked at his twin passively, not giving any negative vibes.
"We're going to have to talk about what y'all plan to do," Lena said, breaking the silence.
She chomped on some bacon and waited for one of them to speak.
"There's nothing to do but stay off the streets. Stack will make some calls…I'll have to check in with my people, too," Smoke said.
"What people?" she asked.
Smoke glanced at Stack. Stack shrugged and tossed the last piece of his toast in his mouth.
"She's in it now, no sense hiding shit from her," Stack said.
"Maybe I can help," she said.
Smoke shook his head.
"You have to lie low, too."
"If I'm out of a job, at least give me a new one," she said.
Smoke studied her face.
"I've been working with Moran's gang," Smoke said.
"I thought you were part of Capone's organization."
"We are," Stack said, wiping his hands together.
"We're playing the Italians and Irish down the middle."
"That'll get you both killed. I thought you and Ernie were doing fine with your cut in the market. The club and the gambling room stayed packed," she said.
"We want our own shit," Stack said.
"Ernie is old school. Too cautious and too stingy with the profits. He's small time compared to what the other gangs have control over. We're going to take what we want and leave Chicago," Smoke added.
Lena placed her hands flat on the table and leaned forward.
"You're leaving? When?"
"As soon as we steal enough booze and cash from both sides," Smoke said.
"What about me? Us? Were you ever going to tell me or just disappear?"
"I wanted to take you with me, but you fucked that up by fucking my brother," Stack said.
The unspoken tension between the brothers regarding her festered in the air. She took their plates away and washed them. Didn't bother to ask any more questions at the table. The thought of them leaving gnawed at her core self. She wanted to cry. Showing weakness wouldn't do, not in the situation they were in. She mustered up willful unbotherdness to make them think their leaving wouldn't break her. The shock of it rested in her solar plexus. She couldn't leave Chicago unless Death told her to.
Stack used her phone first, then went to the bathroom to bathe. Smoke made a few calls while Lena listened to the radio, trying to catch any news about the killings at the Sunset. The only thing she gleaned from a few reports was that the death toll was five and that two suspects were on the loose.
Smoke sat on her couch after finishing his check-in. Lena parked herself next to him.
"You haven't spoken to me about our situation…you, me…Stack."
"What is there to say? You played us."
"No, I didn't. I had two separate and private relationships with each of you."
"What did you expect to happen when you got caught?"
"I wasn't going to get caught. You messed that up by grinning in public."
"So now it's my fault?"
"It is."
"Who did you sleep with first?"
"I made love to Stack first. You ignored me by acting high and mighty…untouchable. So I went for the riper, lower hanging fruit."
"Why isn't he enough for you? Why drag me into bullshit with my brother?"
She ignored his questions.
"Do you still want to be with me?" she asked.
"I do…but I can't. You made a mistake. It's best we stop and go back to being…associates. Besides, we won't be around here much longer, anyway."
"You think you can quit me cold turkey?"
"You think you're some habit I can't break? You're a woman with good pussy. I can find that anywhere. I'd rather my brother have you because he needs a good woman in his life. When he's around you, he's focused…less impulsive. I'll ask for his forgiveness, blame it all on you, and move on. You're a good-time girl, so you understand what it is."
His tone was cool and curt. Business-like.
"I see," she said.
"I've been around, Lena. Shit happens. I'll talk to him, patch things up for you, and mind my business."
The words coming out of his mouth were perfunctory. His eyes…they yearned for her with reluctance. She wouldn't push him. He had to choose her. Their connection ran deeper than sex. Just like Stack. In those moments, entwined with either man, Lena found freedom from her sacred duties. A type of liberation that they also desired from the lives they led. Free to be themselves for themselves.
She didn't want to lose that. From neither twin. But she couldn't pressure them. If they needed to break from her straight away, her gut said they would come back eventually. She had to be patient. Time was something she had plenty of.
"I have more calls to make," he said.
Lena kissed his lips.
For a second, he hesitated, and then allowed his lips to align with hers for a quick smooch.
She refused to let them go in her mind. They would not fully reciprocate her affections until they each had time to contemplate a life without her.
"I'll leave you alone to make those calls then," she said.
She headed for her master bedroom to read a book. Perhaps it would be more comfortable for everyone to stay apart in separate spaces.
That's what they did for the rest of the day. The twins used her phone or snuck out of the apartment building to use the new phone booth posted a block away. It was clear to Lena that the brothers had been working over the Italians and the Irish for a much longer time than they let on. Pitting gangs against each other in ways beneficial to them put targets on their backs from all fronts. Capone was locked up. The Italians scrambled to hold their power within the vacuum their mob boss created with his absence.
She cooked them a heavy dinner of ham and cheesy potatoes from a recipe she cut out of a magazine. The men ate without her. She lost her appetite while cooking and worrying about them sneaking out to a secret garage in the middle of the night. She caught the gist that they were pilfering liquor crates from the two different gangs and hiding the stolen goods on the south side.
Smoke approached her in the sitting room as she played records.
"We need you to do a job for us," he said.
Stack sauntered next to his brother, his eyes still sullen, but determined to keep focused on their work and not their splintered relationship.
"What do you need done?"
Smoke kept talking, and Stack listened.
"We need you to go down to the Dreamland tonight and find out if Ernie shows up there."
"Ernie?"
"We don't trust him," Stack said with some bite in his tone.
"You think Ernie set you up?"
"Just go there, ask around to see if they're hiring bartenders. Since you can sing, ask about a job doing that, too. You're a knockout, so Bottoms the owner will want to feel you out himself. See who's hanging with him."
"What if Ernie shows up and sees me?"
"His joint got shot up. Everyone needs work until he opens back up. He won't be shocked to see you there. If he's around, come right back here and let us know when we come back."
"Where will you guys be?"
"Out," Stack said.
"For how long?"
"Will you do it?"
"Yeah, I'll get dressed now."
She slipped past them and washed up. Choosing a crème and white dress appropriate for an impromptu interview, she glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She combed out her curls into a fluffier bob. Grabbing a coat from her closet, she met the men in her front room.
"No…aw, hell no. You can't go to Dreamland dressed like that," Stack groaned.
Lena looked at her dress and sensible work shoes.
"What's wrong with this?"
Stack huffed with annoyance.
"No style vision at all. I bought you the best clothes in town and you think walking into Dreamland looking like an old schoolmarm is going to get Will Bottom's attention?"
"You said to go ask for a job. This is the outfit for that."
Stack sucked his teeth and tugged on her arm.
"I swear if you or Smoke didn't have me around to show you how to dress to finesse…tryna embarrass me out here…"
Stack dragged her back to her bedroom closet and pulled out several dresses that he tossed on the bed. He grabbed a few different heels, too. High ones. With his hands on his hips, he eyed six dresses and chose the most revealing one. A slinky red off-the-shoulder number that always had her breasts sitting pretty.
"This the one, Lena. You walk into Dreamland with this on…ooh wee, heads are gonna turn."
She pulled off the dress she had on, along with the slip. Kicking off the shoes, she kept her eyes on Stack. He bit his bottom lip, staring at her.
Unfastening her bra, she let it drop to the floor.
"You made me so mad, Lena," he said.
Stack shortened the distance between them. She lowered her head.
"I'm sorry."
"I love my brother."
"I know—"
"I love you, too."
She blinked and looked up into his eyes.
He cradled her face and the struggle behind his bold brown eyes humbled her.
"Stack…"
He let his nose touch hers.
"I don't want to let you go."
She reached up and clasped his wrists. His arms trembled.
"I know I talk a lot of shit to women. But you never fall for any of it…you never let me run game on you. Everything you say or do to me is the real you. I fucks with that. Lena…I want you to come with us when we leave."
"What about Smoke?"
"That's my blood. I can tell he loves you, too. At least the part of him that's able to allow you close to him. That ain't easy. He's got a lot of trauma…a lot of pain he carries. If you made him find his smile again…made him laugh…then I want him to have that. Want him to have you, too."
"You sure?"
"It's my choice, right?"
She nodded and hugged him tight.
"She ready?" Smoke called out.
"Almost," Stack said.
Lena pulled on the dress and Stack helped zip her up.
"Which shoes?" she asked.
"The black Moiré satin pumps."
"You know the names of my shoes?"
"I know every fine strip of clothing a woman wears from her head to her toes. When I used to pimp my stable of bitches from here to Arkansas, I had to know what the tricks liked. I always had classy lookin' hoes. Big pimpin' days."
Lena rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. Stack knelt down and helped her put on the pumps. He gazed into her eyes and pushed back a fluff of hair from her forehead.
"Perfection. Go straight there and come back. Have the cab driver circle the block twice if you think you're being followed."
Stack dug into his pocket and pulled out her transportation and club money.
"Drink a little and look over the place before you start askin' for work," he said.
"Okay."
He stood, and she placed the money in her pocketbook.
Smoke's eyes widened at the sight of her new dress.
"Better?" she asked.
"Guess he knows what he's talkin' 'bout," Smoke said.
Stack helped her put on her coat at the front door.
"You two be safe," she said.
Smoke and Stack stood side by side, looking at her. Lena leaned forward and kissed Stack on the lips. When she moved for Smoke, he jerked back.
"Let her kiss you, man. It'll make her feel better," Stack said.
Smoke gave a quizzical look at his brother.
"We just gonna roll with it for now," Stack said.
Lena kissed Smoke's soft lips. She pried his mouth open with her tongue, and he accepted it.
"Aye, you doin' a little more with him. That ain't fair," Stack blurted.
Lena grinned, pulled away, and kissed Stack again, tonguing him down slowly. His eyes were still closed when she spun around and left the apartment
Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 4.1K
Masterlist HERE.
"See-line woman (see-line)
She drink coffee (see-line)
She drink tea (see-line)"
Nina Simone - "See-Line Woman"
Fucking two dangerous twins at the same time, and them not knowing, wasn't an easy task.
Lena remained cool under the pressure.
Smoke had no problem keeping their interactions in the Sunset Café prim and proper. Professional.
He never smiled at anyone or presented himself as overly friendly. His stoicism created distance. It was easy to maneuver in front of him without the slightest hint of impropriety between them.
But Stack?
Because they'd created a romantic liaison, he started moving funny, and it was noticeable. He rarely flirted or interacted with other women in the joint. Even his regular female fans that flocked to the club were shut down if they tried any amorous advances with him.
Stack could maintain regular work-related conversations at the bar, but his eyes gave away his open desire for her, and it was difficult to maintain indifference on her end. He turned her on in the worst way with that slick mouth.
Sometimes lust got the better of them and he'd jam her up in the supply room and fuck her against a wall, ejaculating so much cum in her throughout the night that she had to bring extra underwear and washrags to work. He became a nightly cooze demon. It took some extraordinary acting on her part to get fucked by Stack, and to scamper off immediately to make Smoke his drinks and set them in front of him looking unbothered with his brother's jizz soaking her panties.
Sometimes… Smoke was no better.
Whenever Stack was preoccupied with Ernie out in the streets or in the gambling room, Smoke summoned her during breaks to his table, where he finger fucked her. She'd get worried if he tried to do that after Stack filled her with semen, and often prevented him from doing so by stroking his dick instead. They had to be discreet because Caroline lurked nearby to be at Smoke's beck and call. Lena and Smoke would pretend to hold a conversation while she slid her hand up and down, using her thumb and finger to spread his sticky pre-cum all over his shaft. He hissed whenever she gave slow twists to the thick ridge of skin under the head. That frenulum was his sweet spot.
"I wish I could put my mouth on it," she'd whisper.
He'd squeeze his eyes shut and groan, trying hard not to lift her onto his dick. Grabbing a linen napkin from the table, she'd listen to him bite down on making any more suggestive sounds while he came in her hand. Cleaning him up quickly, she departed from his side and rinsed the semen off the napkin.
While juggling her twin lovers, she discerned changes in their work routines. Even their clothing.
Smoke favored the short newsboy caps of the Irish and his suits copied their sartorial choices, too. Gray or brown tweed overcoats and vests, with cool blues and greens for his shirts. Rarely any ties. In the club, his clothes had crisp lines with structured jackets of high quality. Stack, on the other hand…tailored Italian high-waist trousers, pinstripes and fancy silk ties that matched the color of his wide-brim fedoras. His jackets were crafted in heavier fabrics with mixed patterns. The shirts high-grade silk. He loved expensive shoes imported from Italy. Red became his signature color.
Something was going down between them.
Smoke had moved out of the twins' shared apartment. He rarely showed up to the Sunset, and when he did, it was only for a couple of hours and he dipped. She no longer interacted with both of them at the club at the same time anymore.
After a couple of weeks, Smoke had dropped off the radar. He snuck over to her apartment at least once a week for their trysts. But he never told her where he lived exactly. Just said his new location was on the north side.
Lena knew better than to ask Smoke or Stack about their work or personal dealings. She was privy to stories and first-hand experiences of gang molls being murdered for spying or getting too comfortable with men's business. Once Smoke left the Black syndicate, and running the club, she breathed easier about either twin finding out about the other.
Outside of her club shifts, she continued her other work for Death. Her assignments appeared under her door or under the counter at the Sunset. Death stayed busy in Chicago with the gang wars. So did Lena.
Carrying souls to glory was an honorable service on behalf of humans. Her share of the task picked up considerably once Smoke left. The north side stayed violent daily, and then the south side got buck wild with Smoke somewhere near the center of it. Lena had her suspicions that prior to Smoke leaving, Stack kept Smoke even-keeled by fast-talking folks through troubling encounters before his twin escalated to murder. Without Stack's presence, Smoke injured and dropped men within gun smoke every week since his absence. She watched him kill a man while driving her home. They pulled up to a stop at a busy street, and Smoke glanced to his right, then stepped out of the roadster squeezing triggers in both hands, blasting some Italian wanna-be gangsters in their territory, right on the sidewalk in front of a horrified crowd.
No one came forward to finger Smoke for the dead. The syndicate fattened the pockets of the cops, and the Italians received the hint loud and clear. Ernie and Stack did the same to the Irish mobsters. Unaffiliated goons weren't allowed to roam in Black areas without Ernie's permission.
Lena witnessed Stack punching and stabbing two Irish thugs inside the Sunset when they thought they could intimidate Ernie. Another gangster struggled to keep his slippery intestines from sliding through his fingers when Stack sliced him during a skirmish outside the club. As much violence as she worked around, she never worried about Smoke or Stack getting seriously hurt. They were the menaces of Chicago, north and south.
She figured they were plotting something with their separation.
Whenever some shenanigans happened among the Irish gangsters, some form of retaliation occurred within the Italian ranks immediately. Tit for tat.
The streets weren't safe, but that didn't stop people from going out at night. Lena wiped down the bar counter and stacked clean glasses. Max and Frank helped train a new bartender. The Sunset Café experienced a surge of new patrons. Ernie had to limit the amount of people coming in, which gave the club an exclusive feel that brought even more patrons scrambling to get inside. A new exotic dancer from New York also titillated their customers with her scarf and feather dancing, bringing illicit nudity. Even their chorus girls wore pasties for a few dance numbers. To handle the increased volume, the club hired a new bartender and three servers.
Bobby was a quick learner at the bar. Fresh-faced, attractive, and energetic, he brought a vitality that perked up the work of mixing drinks. The ladies loved him, and Lena enjoyed his banter with Max. She hadn't seen Smoke or Stack for two weeks and needed the distraction of a pretty boy to keep her mind occupied.
"Whatcha think?" Max asked, watching Bobby stack a serving tray with wine for Bernice.
"He's good."
Lena bobbed her head to the music playing. It had a bite to it that made her want to hit the floor and shimmy. Sweat her curls out. Make her dress stick to her back. The packed club already increased the body heat everywhere, and she had to fan herself with a dinner menu every few minutes.
"He'll do," Frank added.
Max checked out the crowd. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Something feels off," Max said.
"Off how?"
Lena posted herself next to him and surveyed the room herself.
"Feels like trouble," he said.
Max used a cobbler shaker to mix cocktails for Ernie's table. He had a full house of thick-necked toughs cornering the real estate on the far left of the room closest to the hidden door that led to the gambling room. Extra security patrolled the floor. People danced, ate, and chattered away, oblivious to the tension carried by the slick gangsters surrounding them.
"You read the papers today? Since Capone got locked up last month, these mobsters have lost they damn minds. This gang warfare ain't good for business. I'm thinking about getting a new job."
"No one is taking out bartenders," she said.
"Yet," Max emphasized, thumbing through his dream book quickly.
Lena prepared a tray of drinks and helped a server deliver the order for a large group seated in the front. She took a moment to watch the dancing and nearly squealed when Stack strolled in, handing his maroon fedora and overcoat to the coat check. He fixed his gaze on the bar. Scanned for a glimpse of her and his lips twisted in a pout when he didn't see her. He strode over to Max and he pointed her out in the crowd.
The way Stack's face lit up when he spotted her put a swarm of fireflies inside her belly. He moved with purposeful strides toward her, forgetting all pretense of being mere associates. She sauntered off in another direction, seeking the storage room for privacy.
He swept in behind her and lifted her high. Her feet dangled.
"Baby," he hummed into her mouth before kissing her.
"Stack."
She kissed him tenderly, and he twirled her around before placing her back on her heels. He looked her over and kept stroking her arms up and down, squeezing her in places like he had to make sure she was real and in front of him. His eyes shined like newly minted coins, and he couldn't stop smiling while staring at her.
"You stayed on my mind every day," he said.
"Where ya been?"
"Taking care of business. You know how I do. Let's get outta here…go to your place."
"It's real busy tonight, Stack. Ernie needs me."
"I need you. Been thinking 'bout you riding this dick like you do…wanna eat your pussy so bad…"
He smothered her lips and caressed her backside.
"Come with me so you can sit on my face," he begged.
Lena's pussy started clenching already, anticipating a good stretching of her walls from the lack of regular sex. Her back used to get blown out almost every day from either twin before their disappearance.
Stack unzipped his pants and fished out his dick.
"Got me like a brick, Lena…"
She dropped to her knees and sucked on the head, bringing desperate moans out of him.
"Oh…suck that dick…yesss…suck it harder…"
He pressed both hands on her head and packed her throat with so much dick that she gagged and became teary-eyed.
Her warm saliva created a frothy coating on his tip. She spit on it and he seemed mesmerized as another long strand of spit fell all over his deep slit. Lena stuck the tip of her tongue in the hole, tickling the sensitive nerve endings inside the fat glans. Licking, spitting, and sliding her lips along the sides of his dick put him in a trance. His pre-cum leaked all across her lips and dripped down her chin. The noises she made weakened his knees. She worked her neck and Stack started talking his shit to her.
"You dirty little bitch…keep doing that…spit on it again…ooh I like that shit, baby. You could've made me a heap of cash had I put you on the stroll."
Lena slapped his stomach. He grinned and licked his lips.
"I'm playin', baby. You ain't made for them grimy streets. You made to be with me."
He caressed her face on one side. She pulled her lips from his tip, letting saliva spill from the corners of her ravenous mouth.
"I like when you act like a dirty little whore. On your knees without me telling you. Good little bitch…"
He slid his tongue across the gold on his teeth.
"Open your mouth…wide…," he commanded.
She did.
"Stick your tongue out."
She did that, too.
"Gonna fill your mouth up…"
Lena stood.
"Whatchu doin'?"
She sat down on a chair the staff used to reach for things higher on the storage shelves.
"Come lick this pussy," she said.
The shine in his eyes gleamed a little brighter. His lips curled into a devilish smirk.
Lena lifted her dress, revealing her garters and the peach color of her thin, lacy tap pants. Stack dropped to his knees and shoved his nose into her underwear and sniffed. He licked her through the material and his warm saliva wet the crotch. He pulled them off one leg, and she spread her vulva, the soft pubic hairs glistening as much as her labia.
"You smell so good…" he murmured.
Stack smacked his lips and licked his tongue up and down the center, spreading the wings of her inner labia that puffed out with the engorgement of arousal. He sucked on her clit and her legs shook. She drew shapes in his hair with a finger, and he ate her out like she had prepared a lavish feast before him.
"Such a good boy," she hummed.
He groaned and plunged his tongue inside her cooze so far that she lifted her ass from the chair. Stack grabbed the hem of her dress and prevented her from moving. Staring up at her, his narrow eyes gave a warning.
"Why you runnin'?"
He gripped her dress tight and continued his meal.
"Oh, fuck…oh fuck…Stack…"
He moaned into her vulva and teased her clit until it was plump and on the verge of sending her over the edge. Stack jumped up then and lowered his trousers. He pulled her from the chair and planted himself there instead.
"Sit on this dick," he ordered.
Lena threw her legs across his lap, and he held his erection to help guide her down. They groaned together once she was snug on that meat.
She bounced like a madwoman.
Two weeks without some Moore dick was sacrilegious at that point.
Stack lifted her up and down and she rode him like the Kentucky Derby, jockeying for an orgasm. Rocking on his hips, she gripped his shoulders tight and nibbled on his earlobe.
"Lena!"
Stack tensed up, and his dick swelled. She gasped, feeling the hot cum shoot into her. Her body fell back to earth as if she'd flown into a whirlpool of sensations that triggered her clit to release an endless throbbing that made her walls yank on his dick, causing him to shout her name again. He crushed her body against his.
Panting, clothes all in disarray, and sweat dampening their foreheads, they both savored the aftershocks of their quick fuck.
He kissed her lips with a controlled ardor that calmed her body.
"I'll wait for you after your shift," he whispered in her ear.
She nodded and lifted away from him.
Stack fixed his clothes, and she pulled up her panties.
"You go out first," he said.
She left him alone and hastened toward the restroom. Splashing water on her face, she cleaned up, changed underwear, and fixed her make-up.
The club was full, and she immediately began working, ensuring a steady flow of drinks and entertaining customers with her jokes. She glanced at Ernie's table, but people standing to watch the dancing blocked it before the Baltimore headliner appeared. Lena loaned Max a dime to give to the numbers man, and she corrected a mistake Bobby made with an order. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Stack headed her way, and she grinned, knowing he was antsy about her finishing so he could eat her pussy all night.
The grin froze in place when she realized he didn't have on a tie. It was Smoke.
Shit.
The thrill of recognizing him tugged on her heartstrings, and yet she understood the tense expression.
He wanted her.
The single crease in his forehead matched the rigid look of his jawline when he needed sex. She turned away to act like she didn't see him.
He tapped his finger on the counter and she spun around cheerfully, putting on a helluva show for customer service.
"Mr. Moore, what can I get for you, sir?" she said.
Her teeth felt crowded in her mouth, trying to get her tongue to work properly, like his brother's cum wasn't painting her walls all fresh.
"Bring me the usual to the other room," he said.
That was their code for, "Bring that pussy to me."
She nodded and poured dark rum for him.
"Taking my break," she told Frank.
"I thought you just took your break," Frank said.
"No, I was busy with the floor," she tossed over her shoulder.
Max knew better and rolled his eyes.
"Dancing with the devil will trip you up. Two will have you sprawled on your ass," Max huffed in her ear as she passed him.
Lena carried the tray and added an extra drink on it for herself. She traversed the dense throng of gyrating bodies and discreetly placed herself in front of the secret door hidden by elaborate wall drapes. Four knocks and two taps gave her access. A gangster guarding the entrance slid a panel open, and she stepped through.
"Smoke?" she asked.
The guard pointed to the back.
Lena passed by tough guys playing cards and throwing dice. She tapped on another door and Smoke opened it.
"Your drink," she said.
Smoke looked over her shoulder and closed the door. He locked it and took the rum. She studied his face. He lacked the smile lines of Stack, and his serious countenance always kept her wondering what he would do. His unpredictable nature with her always excited Lena.
Smoke took his drink and sipped it. His eyes stayed on her face. She lifted the second glass and drank to settle her nerves. Could he smell Stack's cologne on her?
He dropped the empty glass on the tray. She put hers there too and rested it on a desk.
He touched her hair first.
Then her lips.
"Are you upset with me?" he asked.
"Upset? Why would you think that?"
"You turned your back on me when you saw me coming for you."
"This place is so busy, I didn't even see you…I was in the middle of an order…"
He caressed her chin.
"It's okay to be mad at me. I haven't contacted you for a long time. Why don't you ever get upset when I ignore you? Most women wanna bite my head off."
"I know who you are. What you do. Why get upset with a gangster? If I wanted attention all the time, I could get any square out here."
"You got it like that?"
"I do. I don't have to be up under you to know we're still good."
"Is that right?"
"Yes."
"For all you know, I could be seeing someone else."
"But you ain't. That's why you called me in here. You want me."
He dropped his gaze to her hands.
"I do want you."
"Then take me—"
His lips swallowed her words. So gentle. So soft.
He slanted his head, and she circled her hands around his neck and stroked the bottom of his hairline. Breaking away for a second, he sighed, and she painted kisses up his neck until she could slide her tongue in his right ear. She nibbled the top of it and he sank into himself, lost in the pleasure of tongue and teeth.
"I'm so glad you're back," she whispered.
He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing and his eyes half-lidded with arousal.
He fondled her backside and soon lifted the back of her dress to her hips. He slipped his fingers past the elastic of her underwear and stuck them inside her pussy from behind. Lena panted and kissed him, indulging in the sucking she gave his tongue, teasing him with what she would do to that big dick once they could have true privacy away from the club.
He moved her onto the desk and hiked up her dress further, yanking her fresh pair of lace tap pants down. Positioning himself between her thighs, he unfastened his pants and pulled out a rock hard erection.
He sank into her, and Lena rocked her hips against him. Smoke held her legs up and pumped that dick into her until she was squirting all over him. Stack already had her revved up from earlier and Smoke pulled out the second wind in her. Her wetness and Stack's cum gave Smoke an easy time to enjoy himself. He slang that dick against her walls and she squeaked with pleasure. Her pussy squelched, and she floated in ecstasy. To get dicked down by two men in under two hours was insane. But Lena stayed being a greedy lover, and these two humans were a treat. Many men and women had plowed, licked, and sucked between her legs for centuries. However, nothing was as pleasurable as the Smokestack twins. She hoarded their lovemaking like it was going out of twentieth century style.
"Fuck me, Smoke!"
He grunted and humped her good. Put his back into it. Oh, if she could only have them both at the same time!
Her rapacity for their flesh forced her to claw at Smoke's shoulder, needing him deeper. When he hit the bottom of her pussy with that thick hot dick, she hollered loud enough for the gamblers to hear. The friction on her clit seized her up, and she broke apart on Smoke's dick. His heavy spurts joined her climax, and he grunted into her neck with that dick pulsing and filling her up with even more semen.
He pulled away and a rope of creamy white cum shot out on her dress.
"Fuck, Lena…"
He grabbed his balls and squeezed. More cum dribbled from his slit. She bent over and sucked the rest out, cleaning his dick with her mouth. He touched her head gently.
"Get back to the bar. I gotta speak with Ernie and my brother," he said.
Lena wiped the sides of her lips and pulled her underwear on. She grabbed the tray and hurried back to the bar.
All the bartenders hustled. It gave Lena time to discover a dilemma.
Who would take her home?
The headliner took the stage and the bar traffic slowed down.
Stack settled onto a stool in front of her. Lena's stomach knotted. She had to figure out a way to maneuver the twins. The mouthy redhead that stalked him before pranced over decked out in diamonds and furs.
"Stack!"
Drunk and loud, she grabbed onto Stack's sleeve and pulled him off his seat. He shoved her hand away, and the woman whined about him dumping her. Smoke wandered over, and the afterglow of their union surrounded her with giddiness. He must've felt it, too, because his cheeks and jaw loosened up and he…smiled.
Stack caught it.
He looked at his older twin brother showing dimples, and then his eyes narrowed when he observed Lena beaming back at the man.
"The fuck!" Stack yelled at Smoke.
He yanked his arm one last time from the redhead.
"Get the fuck away from me," he barked.
The redhead burst into tears and ran off. The majority Black crowd snickered and turned away from Stack's glare.
"Smoke?"
Stack's question hung in the air as an accusatory statement.
Smoke turned his head.
The brothers faced off.
Stack's lower lip trembled like he wanted to say something. Smoke remained silent, taking in his younger brother's tone, understanding the situation quickly.
Lena skulked off to the other end of the counter, the heat on her cheeks nearly melting her face away. Had Smoke never smiled, Stack wouldn't have guessed there was something between them.
"Can I get two shots of your best whiskey?"
A broad-chested brown-skinned man in a three-piece suit held out a dollar bill. Lena took it. She quickly poured the man his shots and slid them to him.
He didn't take the shot glasses.
Instead, he whipped out a Tommy Gun and blasted loud explosive rounds toward Smoke and Stack.
Chapter 5 soon come....
If you want to read some similar stories featuring MBJ while you wait for the next chapter, check out my Geechee!Erik Killmonger AU's set in the same period and same Black supernatural world HERE.
A/N: It's been a long ass time. Of course these beautiful Black people brought me out of retirement. Let's fucking gooooo
The sun shined bright in Clarksdale as Annie waited in line for the 8:30 train to Chicago. Her protections for her home had been set in her absence, as well as on her person with a powerful mojo bag she fed the night before. The Illinois Central Railroad had a straight route to the Windy City from Mississippi. Colored folk filled the train depot almost to capacity in their finest threads, packed to the gills with their prized possessions & family heirlooms, combined with enough food to last them the trip.
It had been four years since Smoke and Stack left everything they knew behind. Including her, and their child’s memory. Pain is not sufficient for what Annie felt. She really had no idea what she was doing there at the train station. Or what she’d hope to find when she arrived to Chicago. Or what she would do when she got there. Something had to be done. Energy had to be moved. She had to see Smoke for herself.
A handsome porter helped her with her bags and helped her to get settled in the colored section of the train. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized at all the different kinds of folks that were traveling for greener pastures. The Klan terrorized northern Mississippi in hopes of keeping Black people docile. The Black communities banded together for protection, and yet could not be moved by fear or intimidation. There were grandmothers with their adult children, young families with infants and toddlers running about the cabin full of energy, single people who didn’t have much more than the clothes in their backs. All looking to a new life away from Jim Crow.
Clarksdale to Memphis. Memphis to East St. Louis. East St. Louis to Springfield. Springfield to Chicago. She made sure to get some dirt from every stop of the route — sweeping her floors with railroad dirt from various places ensured constant flow of energy and resources to find her. She stepped off the train at the last stop and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Annie tried to not look so much a slack jawed yokel but she had never been no further than Louisiana in her life. The skyscrapers towered over the sprawling city, the winding streets that were two lanes wide were bumper to bumper with fancy cars, and there was just so many people! How could Elijah find comfort in a place like this and not with her?
She needed him. She needed him in her bones. In her blood. They were each other’s safe haven. As children, they would meet each other at the crossroads of Route 16 and Candler Road for a respite from their hectic home lives. Smoke’s father was a drunk and abused him and the rest of the family incessantly. Annie’s mother was always away — working roots for folks, doing house cleanings and driving out haints, performing exorcisms. They were both 15 the first time they kissed and 17 the first time they were intimate. They were so young then, and blissfully ignorant at how life can be.
As they aged, they were still inseparable. Both didn’t have much formal schooling. Annie grew into her power — learning herbs and recipes and how to protect, provide and punish if need be. Elijah eventually grew tired of working in the fields. Him and his brother Elias, who was the epitome of hell on wheels, made a living robbing trains. Those boys began to make a name for themselves — especially when their abusive father mysteriously ended up dead. Stabbed in the chest with an ice pick. Annie knew the truth of the matter. Smoke and Stack were growing into young men — they couldn’t tolerate the abuse any longer.
Shortly thereafter, America got involved in the Great War. The draft came to Mississippi and Annie’s worst nightmare came to fruition. Smoke and Stack were conscripted and were set to ship out to Camp Jackson for basic training.
“Put this on your neck.”
Smoke rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took the brown mojo bag. He tied it around his neck and let it fall to his chest. “You know I don’t believe in all that mess.”
“And you don’t need to. This “mess” has been around longer than we could imagine and will be around long after we return to this earth. Just keep it on. For me.”
~
The boarding house Annie lodged in was Black owned in a neighborhood called Bronzeville. All kinds of fancy colored folks lived there in their pressed suits and pristine dresses hustling to their next destination, with little time to converse. She asked a few people about Smoke and Stack andwhere they hung out at. “Elijah and Elias? About six feet, pretty teeth, dimples. They hard to miss.” But no one could point her in the right direction.
Her trip was only supposed to be for a week. Yet four days had passed and not a peep from either one of the twins. Riding the bus along Cottage Grove, she couldn’t help but to overhear two young chaps’ conversation. “Billy done fucked up for the last time. He was slow with Luzzato’s money and Smoke and Stack left him for dead on the pier. I ain’t fuckin with them twins.”
Annie knew that the twins were okay with violence and confrontation— this was not new information to her. But working for the Italians? How did they get wrangled with them? And how did they manage to stay out of jail?
Apparently Paul Luzzato was one of Al Capone’s lieutenants who was a bit more open minded when it came to race than the rest of Capone’s family. The teens made mention of a club right in the neighborhood of the boardinghouse where she was staying. This was the opportunity Annie needed to get a step closer to closure.
The Lighthouse was a cool joint for colored folks on the southside playing nothing but Chicago and Mississippi blues. Lowlit with the fog of cigarette smoke hovering at the ceiling, Annie moved gracefully to the bar scoping out the scene. Beautiful Black men and women in their finest zoot suits and bias cut gowns drinking and carrying on — she felt a bit country and backwoods around all these fancy folks. Annie wondered if these colored folks all traveled from down south as well in hopes of seeking a promised land.
The house band played a good ol southern tune that made Annie rock and sway in her seat. A young stocky man tending bar wiped off a glass, looking in her direction. “Would you like a drink ma’am?”
“I reckon so. What’s a girl gotta do to get some moonshine around here?”
The barkeep fixed her up a glass of moonshine neat. That familiar burn went down so nicely.
~
“Nigga, if you don’t count this money so I can go. Couple bitches in there dying to get broke off by daddy Stack.” Smoke and Stack sat in a dimly lit storage room counting up their money from their protection runs for the day. Capone had sway over the whole city — any business that wasn’t a patron of the mob had to pay up for their own sakes.
“Pussy hound. Can we finish this business please?” Smoke sucked his teeth at his twin’s one track mind. To be fair, they had a long day and he wouldn’t mind a nice nightcap as he hears that guitar wail and moan.
Every dollar and cent is accounted for. Stashed safely in their massive safe built into the wall, they put their suit jackets back on and spread out into the fray. Stack went immediately to coat check to seek out this young filly who had no idea how mischievous he was. Smoke however, sat alone at his usual seat on the second floor overlooking the band. He nursed his whiskey and scoped out the room. The club was full to capacity, there were no fights at the moment, alcohol flowed — he would have a good report for Luzzato.
Smoke peered toward the bar and saw Rallo, the barkeep chatting up with a dark skinned woman who filled out her dress like no one he had ever seen before. Not in a long time anyway. Imagine his surprise when he stood up gazing over the balcony to get a good look….
“It can’t— it can’t be. She said she would never leave Mississippi.” Annie had had a lot more to drink by the time Smoke recognized her and her lips and limbs were a lot looser. Smoke watched Rallo fill her glass up to the top and sat watching her gulp it down like a sucker for love. He would serve other folks and park his ass right back in front of Annie, charming her with everything he had.
“Oh fuck this.”
Smoke skipped every two steps to race towards the bar. Pulling out a cigarette Stack rolled for him, he stood behind Annie staring directly into the back of her head. Her hand rested on Rallo’s forearm, waxing poetically about the south and how beautiful Chicago was.
“Annie.”
Her heart dropped into her ass. Annie’s pulse skyrocketed head ring his southern rasp that hadn’t changed in four years. She forced herself to play it off however— he didn’t get to leave her and their home and their baby and demand immediate attention.
Annie turned to gaze him in the eye and smiled. Rallo however stood up straight as a board, having prior knowledge of Smoke’s reputation especially on the southside. He has never been on his bad side before and didn’t want to start today. Smoke was burning with rage seeing his estranged wife giggle and flirt with a measly bartender.
“I’m busy.”
She cut her eyes and returned to her moonshine on the bar. “Rallo, get the fuck outta here.”
“Sure thing, Smoke.” Rallo left Annie alone and assisted other patrons where it was safe. She huffed at his audacity and threw the rest of the liquor back.
“Still jealous, huh? You never did like my attention to be split.” She hasn’t looked him in the eye yet, staring at the mirror that spanned the backlit bar in front of her. He was still devastatingly handsome..
“What you sayin to him, huh? Had a good time socializin? Why are you here?”
“So Smoke the only one ‘llowed to leave the country? I’m looking towards a future, not the past where everything hurts too bad. Sound familiar?” Annie hissed at Smoke for daring to regulate her. He left HER. He needed to hurt now.
It sliced right through him to have his own words thrown back in his face. His jaw was locked so tight it could break an anvil. “Annie, can we talk in the back? Please?”
“Mmmm, no I’m fine just right here ,thank you so much.” Internally, she loved that she could rouse him still. He still cared. She could tell he still wanted her carnally— his eyes wouldn’t stop wandering the length of her body.
Smoke curled his lips in, gritting his teeth at her insolence. He did deserve the treatment. But he didn’t care— all he wanted was to cuss her ass out and give her all the love that had been pent up for the last four years. “Annie. Please.”
“Elijah. Please.” Her ire began to rise now. His eyes pleaded with her to cooperate and not have his business out for Chicago to see — he had a reputation to uphold. Annie acquiesced begrudgingly, jumping from the barstool and allowed him to guide her to the back. He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers like they used to. Electricity had no choice to spread through her body.
Smoke had a key to Luzzato’s office which had a bed and closet for whenever he was too tired to drive home from the club. Annie scrutinized the tall windows cased in luxurious drapes, all of the expensive hardwood furniture and floors, and fancy Art deco decor. Nothing like back down home.
“You like Rallo?”
“Tuh, you ain’t got not one lick of sense. He was friendly enough.”
“Why are you here, Annie? You said you could never leave Mississippi. You said you could never leave—“ Smoke stopped short of speaking their dead child’s name. Her name crumbled in his mouth, a raw memory that still threatened to take him down if he let it.
That made Annie’s chin tremble yet galvanized her to force the issue. “You can’t even say her name. The child we made out of love. And you can’t even do that.” She sounded so weary and exhausted.
His eyes were glassy already, and he grabbed both of her hands. “Annie…..I couldn’t stay and you know this. I fuckin couldn’t wake up every mornin seein that tiny grave every day. I couldn’t…”
Annie felt the tremors in Smoke’s hands. She couldn’t hold tears back any longer. “And how do you think I felt?! I pulled her from my womb myself. I nursed her. I prayed for her. And she wasted away anyway. What about my pain, Elijah?!”
The dam broke for Smoke, and he cried as he embraced her. She wriggled and struggled but Smoke held her in place, both shedding tears that had no end. “Annie, please forgive me. Please forgive me. I love you. I love you to the ends of the Earth. Please forgive me.” His lips sweetly grazed her chin, cheek and down to her supple neck.
She shuddered audibly, his touch still had the ability to make her knees weak like jelly. Annie hated that her body leaned into his affections without her permission. After all this time. After what he did. “You hurt me. You hurt me bad. How can I..”
Their mouths met in a whirlwind. Tongues lashing against one another, inciting soft moans from the pair. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do whatever. Spend the rest of my life doin it if I have to.” Smoke’s lips kissed down her collarbone to her chest and he tenderly pecked the top of her breasts.
Kisses turn to bites, and revert back to kisses along her cleavage, and a big bicep wraps around Annie’s waist for him to grind his hips on hers. Her moans rise in volume when he reaches under her gown, and pulls her panties to the side. Smoke folds his tongue back into her mouth while two of his agile digits swipe back and forth so tenderly across her pussy lips.
“Oh…shit Smoke…”
So much of her slick is already expelled, making a mess on his fingers just how he remembers. “I’ll just have to remind you how it feels to be loved by me..”
Smoke loves how buxom his wife is, and can’t wait another second without one of her titties in his mouth. Annie helps him pull down the straps of the dress along with her bra, showing her bare breasts in all their glory. Smoke walks Annie back to Luzzato’s massive dark oak desk and leans her up against it. She held the skirt of her dress while he played with her pussy and sucked her nipples so sweetly. He kneeled so he could look at her mound even closer, making her gasp at his anticipation. He ran his hand through her soft coils and spread her lips and put his face in between them.
Bliss can’t come to close to how sensational she’s feeling. Annie holds her husband’s head right on her clit, letting his tongue lap gently in tight circles. Two thick fingers penetrate her hole and if Smoke wasn’t holding her up, she would have slipped right off the desk.
“You…you motherfucker…don’t you stop baby…”
He has her to tilt her hips up so he can lick even more thoroughly, his handsome face covered in her essence. Smoke is proud as ever, and considers it an honor to make his wife come after the way everything went down. The telltale signs came one after the other — Annie grabbing her breast, plucking her nipple, her gritted teeth, her bewildered expression at the sheer amount of pleasure she’s receiving. Those juicy lips of his wrap around Annie’s clit and sucked to tumble her into sweet oblivion. The way his moans reverberated through her body as he took from her….she couldn’t ache for him more than she did in this very moment.
Smoke kisses her sensitive pussy for the last time and finagles with his belt and slacks. When he takes his button down off, Annie sees the mojo bag she made for him when he went to the war. Her belly fluttered, that he still kept it after all this time. Even with how he felt about her beliefs. “Turn yo ass around.”
He wipes his mouth off and sheds his underwear. Annie can feel how hard he is on the small of her back, urging a coy gasp out of her. A couple strokes of his shaft is all he needs to enter his wife. Her skirts are bunched up over her ass, and his hands can’t resist slapping both cheeks in tandem. Annie hikes her waist up, positively buzzing waiting for him to split her open. Smoke holds her open and lets the head of his dick penetrate her. They both shout in ecstasy at their coupling. It had been so long….
“I know you don’t believe me….but you the only one. You the only one, Annie…” One of his hands held her by the shoulder, forcing Annie to sit on every devastating inch of that thick dick. Her whines and cries spurred him to get in deep — make her remember that he was her husband, and she was his wife. Forever.
Her umber skin meshed so well with his, Smoke enjoying the view of him sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. “Good ass pussy, that good ass shit, fuck!” Smoke licked and bit at Annie’s delicate shoulders and neck, grunting like a man determined to fuck his beautiful well.
Fingers played and twisted at her nipples, until he pushes Annie’s chest to the desk so she gets everything she deserves out of him. Her pussy feels every vein and pulse of his dick caressing her walls, his heavy sack making contact with her clit on every thrust. She can’t stop smiling. Her man. Her Elijah. Their love was bone deep — inescapable, insurmountable, and unbreakable. They were a committing a sacred act that she didn’t realize how much she missed until that moment.
Smoke is beginning to twitch inside of her, and Annie starts clapping her fat ass on his pelvis. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, feeling himself about to walk into Eden. He has to get her to come with her — he needs to make her ascend this way.
“Yeah baby, yeah baby, it’s coming — fuck fuck I—“ Smoke gives Annie three powerful thrusts and he erupts inside of her. So much cum from her and him, the floor is a mess. He stands back and spreads her open to see the amalgamation of their love inside her pussy, and she blushes. Smoke is tender and sweet, but so filthy and nasty for her, and she swears she’s the luckiest girl in the world.
He holds her from behind just taking in her scent mingled with his — Luzzato’s office smelled like old cigars and pussy. “I forgive you, Elijah.”
Smoke was startled when she spoke — there had been a comfortable silence as they held each other. He turned her to face him and held her close, looking in her eyes with hope for reconciliation. “I couldn’t quit you if I wanted to. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone.”
He graced Annie with a rare smile, one that reached his eyes. One peck on her lips turned into twenty and he thanked her incessantly for her mercy. Ever the gentleman, he assisted his wife in redressing and rearranging Luzzato’s office. The sneaky pair rejoined the festivities — still lively like they never left. Smoke got Annie a seat at his personal table on the second floor, walking tall and proud with his wife on his arm. Heads turned and gossip flowed at this mysterious woman. Smoke had never been sighted with any woman before in Chicago, not unless it was about business.
Humming in the vibrant after sex glow, Annie could do nothing but look at her husband’s face. By no means, was this going to be easy for them to grow from. But they were both ready and willing. Their love was unstoppable. Ancestral. Celestial. Smoke sensed her gaze on him and he turned back to her. Reaching over the table to kiss her, he held her hand tightly to his chest, with urgency.
“I’m comin back wit ya. I can’t let you walk away from me. I’d surely die, Annie. Will you have me?”
She squealed with utter joy at his heartfelt request. Annie sprang up and ran to him, sitting on his lap and kissing him with everything she had. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Adult Language, Speculative Elements
Summary: Annie has been asked by her estranged husband Smoke to provide hot food for the opening of his new juke joint in Clarksdale. After seven years apart, their passion and love for each other hasn't waned, but Smoke learns the hard way that leaving his wife alone for a long stretch of time doesn't mean other suitors haven't been chomping at the bit to be with her in his absence.
Word count: 7.2K
"Somebody take me
In your arms tonight, alright
Somebody take me
In your arms tonight…"
Miles Caton – "I Lied to You"
Oh, he was mad.
Big mad.
Full lips all bunched up in a pout. Eyes more narrow than a sewing needle stitching a hemline back in her house. Fingers gripping the rolled tobacco cigarette tight.
Annie Moore watched her estranged husband Elijah "Smoke" Moore pretend to act unbothered on the second-floor, looking down at the mighty fine juke joint he and his twin Stack cobbled together in a day.
That big nigga was fuming up there, all on account of Beau Willie approaching her for a plate of fried catfish, and her mama's red rice recipe carried all the way over from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
There was plenty of fish to fry, pots of greens to stir, fried potatoes to season, and plenty of people to buy plates and eat them in Club Juke.
Annie wiped her brow with a folded towel next to the fryers and pretended not to notice her man hawking her from above. She gave Beau Willie two big slices of white bread with hot sauce, and pointed out the Irish beer, and Italian wine available to purchase with it. Her best friends Millie and Alberta helped cook and serve, and they all tapped their feet to the music swirling throughout the transformed sawmill. Two of Millie's older daughters stood nearby, watching and learning, and every now and then, the women would let them cook a batch of fish and sell some plates. Grace Chow the grocery store owner, also helped serve and sell liquor while gossiping with them.
"That man keep starin' at you, he gonna have his eyes fallin' outta his head," Millie whispered.
Grace giggled. Annie rolled her eyes and popped the cap of Beau Willie's beer with a bottle opener for him. Handed him the drink.
"There ya go, Beau Willie. You enjoy all that and come back for more when you ready," she said.
"You know I'll be back for your cookin', Annie. Every time," Beau Willie said with a voice deeper than the Mississippi River.
Brawny and handsome, Beau Willie worked the cotton fields like most of the colored people inside the juke. He was her first boyfriend. The first boy to ever kiss her, because of Smoke being too chickenshit to tell Annie that he wanted her first.
Delta Slim belted out some tunes on his harmonica and tickled the piano keys, and Lloyd Allen played the lead guitar. The dancing crowd added the extra percussive beats. Preacher Boy Sammie stood next to the legend and played along with his guitar respectfully, not trying to outplay his elders, just keeping the rhythm steady with his strumming. A fiddler and two sibling banjo players waited offside for their turn to perform.
Annie served a few more plates and propped herself next to Grace against the counter filled with liquor bottles and high-priced hooch. She rightfully assumed Smoke and Stack stole all that shit. Smoke came to her house with pockets so fat and full of cash that she knew he'd been up to no good again. Wasn't no need to question or fuss with him about his criminality. He was going to do what he wanted.
A soft shiver went up her spine.
Lord, that man put it on her earlier that day! Twice. It was like old times with them. Argue and fight, and then fuck the disagreement away.
An undercurrent of disappointment simmered in her blood for his abandonment of their marriage after the loss of their baby. He begged her to run off to Arkansas with him after they robbed several banks in Clarksdale, and she refused to leave their baby behind in the ground they buried her in. That gravesite was holy, and she didn't want to leave her kin behind either. Smoke grew bitter about his pain. Selah, their baby girl, had meant everything to him. He couldn't wait to be a father and the first time he held her, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. They never stopped flowing after her death.
Annie did all she could when Selah grew sick. Asked every ancestor she knew by name and then some for help, wrung her hands with High John the Conqueror root as she beseeched God to grant her one holy favor: save her daughter from a too soon homegoing.
It wrecked Smoke.
He turned bitter, surly, and prone to drinking all day and night. The resentment in his eyes when she could cure ailments in other people, but not her own child, festered like an infection full of pus in his spirit. He said not one word to her, even though she sensed that negative energy clinging to him.
Her sorrow buried itself in her chest and she stumbled around each day numb for many months. They were not good to each other. He got it in his head to leave, like going away would banish Selah from their collective memory. She cursed him out. Beat her hands on his chest. How could he up and leave their child? Who was going to take care of her grave? Talk to her? Let her know they loved her beyond the veil of life?
He didn't skip off in the night when he left. That big gorgeous man looked Annie straight in her face and told her he couldn't stay. If he did, he feared he would turn into his father. A sullen, abusive man.
"Go on then," she said, "You scared to handle your feelings like a man, then leave. I'll stay and honor her and make a life with this pain."
He winced, and she turned her back on him, prepared an herbal remedy for a customer who was due to come by that day.
Smoke left her.
She had the community's support and sympathy. Built a business using the conjuring and medicinal skills she learned from her grandmother and Smoke's mother, Taiwo, both Hoodoo women. Taiwo nurtured her growth of knowledge until her passing two years ago. Annie stayed rooted in her power and fierce determination to keep her people thriving in Clarksdale.
She snuck a sip of the good hooch and squeezed her eyes shut from the burn that scorched her throat.
"Ooh, wee! That is some strong corn liquor," Annie gasped, patting her chest.
Millie cackled and sipped it like a pro, the moonshine sliding down her gullet like water.
"I don't know how you do that," Annie said with wonderment on her face.
"Y'all can't be drinking up the supply," Smoke said.
Annie jumped at the sound of her husband's voice. He'd moved in stealth down from the top floor to the main one. Grace wandered off to check on her husband, Bo.
"You ain't paying enough to be worried about me taking a drink when I want one," Annie joked.
"Thought I paid you in other ways that ain't got nothing to do with cash money," he teased, sliding his tongue across his top lip.
Millie smirked and lifted freshly cooked fish from the fryers and dumped them on some paper to drain. Annie wiped her hands and called one of the teen-aged girls over from the back to take over her spot.
"Where you going?" he asked.
"Going to mingle and let people know we got a hot batch ready. Why you stressing me?"
"As long as you're doing that and not flirting with customers."
"Flirting with who?"
Annie put a hand on her hip. Eyed him up and down.
Smoke glanced around. The crowd wasn't paying attention to him.
"Summa these menfolk might have some amorous intentions toward you that they shouldn't," he said.
She slanted her head and waited for him to continue. He snuck a glimpse of her chest. Annie wore her good bra tonight. Her breasts sat high like mountain peaks and looked voluptuous in her new velvet green dress with the few sparkly sequins she sewed into it. She gave enough cleavage with her beads falling down the center of her breasts guiding inquisitive eyes to the Promised Land. Green was Smoke's favorite color on her. Every man watched her work the floor all evening looking like a Hoodoo queen.
Her heavy hips and high riding backside cast spells on other men as she passed them by, and that worried Smoke in that sexually charged environment. Just because they made love hours ago didn't mean he had her safely tucked in his pocket. And he knew that. He'd been gone much too long to think other men hadn't plotted to scoop her up. It was one thing for her to be out of sight/out of mind while he was up north and not faced with other suitors pursuing her. Quite another to witness it full on in person. That's why he chased the back of her dress every chance he got when she went to wandering in the juke.
His reconciliation with her was still tenuous. By his facial expression, she knew he was having flashbacks of sticking his thick dick in her deep, gushy pussy, and he worried that some other man would dare to wet his dick in it, too. It kept him on his toes. Territorial. He'd already shot two men who tried to steal his liquor when he first arrived in town. If a man tried stealing his wife's pussy…there'd be a funeral in the morning.
Smoke didn't answer her question any further about flirting and cut his eyes away from her face. She slunk around him, draped her arms across his shoulders from the side, and stared up into the brown eyes he once gave their baby girl.
"What you worried about, Elijah?" she purred playfully.
"Ah, woman, get on and handle your business."
He tried to act nonchalant, but his eyes darted back and forth to clock anybody waiting to approach her when she moved away from him.
She kissed his cheek and sauntered off, glancing back to catch him watching her. Sure enough, three other men did the same, grinning at the seductive way she swung her hips. They looked elsewhere when Smoke turned their way, going in the opposite direction of her.
"How you folks doing? We got some fresh fish hot and ready. Some Creole potato salad, too! Don't be shy about getting seconds or thirds…hey Earline! I love that dress on you! Shake it, sis! Casper, let some other fellas get a chance to dance with her…hey Ora Lee! I ain't seen you out in a long time, girl!"
Annie circled the extensive building interior. Smoke's twin brushed past her on swift legs with Mary tailing him in her expensive pale satin dress. The juke stayed turned up, with Delta Slim leading the charge. People drank, ate, and had a damn good time.
Smoke stayed watching her, and she decided to ruffle his feathers.
"Oscar, don't you owe me a dance?"
She tapped a man's shoulder, and he showed all his teeth, so happy to hold her hand and swing her out on the floor. Her left arm casually rested on his slim shoulders, and he loved the feel of her near him.
"Aw, Miss Annie, I been waiting all night for a chance to dance with you."
He was only a couple of years older than her, searching for a wife, and he'd been pestering her to go out even though she told him she was still married…for seven years straight. With no word from Smoke, she started keeping company with Oscar briefly two years ago, but the bones she threw after their third picnic date told her they were not evenly yoked. They also told her Smoke wasn't dead. And if he wasn't dead, he was bound to come home someday. She let Oscar down easy, but he never gave up hope. He dated around, but yearned for her still. It showed in the way he held her while they danced. Annie kept it short and chaste.
"Thank you," she said.
"Why you running off, Annie? You think I'm scared of that runaway husband that showed up out the blue?"
She grinned.
"I got more fish to cook and some money to make," she said.
"Don't be shy coming my way again," he said, winking at her.
His buddy had a different idea.
"Nigga, you oughta be scared. Them Smokestack twins ain't to be tested if you want to stay healthy. You ain't hear about them fellas that tried to steal from Smoke today?" his buddy said.
Annie slipped away from the conversation and checked on Smoke, who still stood up high overlooking the railing. Lips poked out again, but he wasn't taking the bait.
She returned to her post after using the privy outside and washing her hands. Stack's trickster self found himself caught in the middle of a heated conversation within a circle of young women who didn't look happy with him.
"What I miss?" Annie said.
Alberta nodded over toward Mary, who sipped a glass of wine at the far end of the food table, watching Stack like he'd vanish into thin air if she didn't keep her eyes glued to him.
"Stack called those ladies field bitches, and they heard Mary say she'd beat up every one of them over him," Alberta said.
"Oh, Lord," Annie sighed.
One woman wagged her finger in Stack's face and spoke loud enough for Mary to hear.
"Her mama was a field bitch too!"
Millie went over to help get the argument under control. Stack looked somewhat remorseful, but maybe it was because the darker Black women were lighting his ass up. They didn't play that shit.
Alberta inched closer and lowered her voice.
"You see that gal right there? The one fussing the most? She's Grace Latimer's niece. Her sister Jessie left town seven months after Stack left. He was messing with her and Mary at the same time. They say she had two of his babies. Twin girls. Her people carried her off to Pittsburgh and got her married up quick. They were too scared to confront Stack about it. Now that's a rumor, so don't go telling folks you heard that from me."
Annie studied the young woman cursing Stack out.
"Does he know he has children by Jessie?" Annie said.
"Like he would care if it's true. He a rolling stone, that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a heap of babies all over the states the way he sweet talks women out they drawers."
Annie glanced over at Mary again. She stayed watching her great love with twisted lips and heat in her eyes. Annie felt bad for her. It made her wonder about Smoke. Were there babies out there in Chicago with his last name attached to them? No, she would've known. Felt it. Her small bag of bones would've told her as well. She prayed for that man to come back home safe, and he did. Took him a long time, but she had him back for herself.
Stack smoothed over the argument, apologized, let the women have free drinks on him, and they rolled their eyes and went about their business partying. He shuffled away to join the rougher men gambling with their Chinese guests in a back room, his gold-rimmed teeth gleaming. Mary huffed loudly, then flounced off into the crowd.
"Whew, I don't want that kinda love coming after me," Millie said, "She sticking to him like a haint in the graveyard."
"She shouldn't even be here," Alberta interjected. "He keeps telling her to go, but she won't leave. What if that sheriff come 'round here to check this place out and they see her? Ain't enough bribery money in this world to keep them crackas from killing him or us if they think she white. Her too. God rest her mama's soul, but she ain't doing us no good being here," Alberta said.
"She knows, but she don't care," Millie said.
Annie fixed plates quietly.
"Annie, maybe you should talk to her. She listens to you. She your play cousin anyway," Millie said.
"Ain't nothing I can say to her that will change her mind. Y'all know I'm married to Stack's other half. I loves me some Smoke, so I know what she's feeling inside. Can't explain it to y'all what it's like being in love with a Moore man. They cut from a different cloth."
"Oh, so they be up in them guts having y'all speaking tongues then," Millie teased.
Annie guffawed and grabbed onto her friend's arm to hush her. The women laughed together and Annie sighed afterward.
"All they got is this one night," Annie said. "We're safe enough in here with our people. Stack gotta decide what he gonna do with her on his own is all I'm saying. I'll talk to her in a little bit. But we got work to do."
Annie supervised the cooking, fanned herself, and chatted up the patrons buying liquor. She couldn't stop grinning at everything and everybody. The festive atmosphere hadn't been in Clarksdale like that for years. People needed the release from toiling in the fields and their troubles.
She took another walk to cool off. The sweat between her breasts and thighs got to her. She fanned herself down in a corner and gazed at the dance floor where folks stomped feet and threw hands up in the air.
The scent of tobacco wafted near her nose.
Smoke found his way next to her. He handed her a small mason jar half-filled with wine. He held another for himself.
"For a job well done," he said.
They clinked the jars together, and she sipped the white wine. He did the same after tossing his cigarette. The sweet liquid tasted good. Not too dry, nor overly sweet.
"You look beautiful, Annie. I meant to tell you that before we got here…but we got busy and…"
"Thank you," she said.
He took their empty jars away and handed them to a young man walking past and asked him to drop them off over at the liquor table to be washed.
"Would you like to dance, Mrs. Moore?" he asked her.
"I would love to, Mr. Moore."
A faint perceptible smile turned up one side of his mouth. She delighted in the rare sight of seeing his dimples. One would think only Stack had them with the lack of smiles Smoke gave freely. So stingy.
He threaded his fingers with hers and purposely walked to the center so everyone would see they were together. The strut in his step gave away his pride at having her by his side. If other men didn't take the obvious hint that she was back with her husband, the gun openly displayed on Smoke's side would deter them.
When he pulled her in close for a down home slow drag, her breasts rested on his wide chest where they were meant to be. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and those muscular ones of his circled her waist. He'd taken off his tweed jacket and the heat from him gripped around her as tight as his arms. They rocked their bodies together and his eyes latched onto hers.
Smoke didn't need words to speak what he felt. He snaked his hips and pressed into her tight.
Love looked right into her eyes through him. So raw and intimate. She almost had to turn away from his intense gaze.
"Baby, you're the finest woman in here," he whispered in her ear.
He let the tip of his tongue swipe the shell of her ear and spoke her name slowly, like an incantation. The hair of his mustache tickled her face the way she remembered, and he rubbed on her Rubenesque shape. Smoke loved him some full-figured women and although she had been a slender teenager when they first met at a church revival gathering, he took one look at her mother and saw the future of what Annie would become. It probably helped that she'd grown plump round titties already, but he'd zeroed in on her like a hummingbird to nectar.
His prediction came true. She filled out in the hips and rump. Her breasts turned buxom. He became an ass man and a lover of big tits.
Smoke liked how snug they were against him in that moment because his dick already poked at her through his trousers. She slid a hand down and palmed that third leg.
"Hey, now," he said, looking around.
"You think your dick the only one hard out here?" she said.
He lowered his hand on her waist and slapped her ass.
"Play around with me, woman, and I'm liable to take you in a room upstairs and bend you over again. You want me to make another big mess inside you?"
Annie covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him.
He pulled it away.
"What? You can talk dirty to me, but I can't give it right back to ya?"
She threw back her head and beamed, feeling tingles all over from the raspy tone of his voice. He gently placed his lips on her neck and sucked on it while stroking her bare arms. His fingertips ignited her flesh and when he finally kissed her, she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue against his. Her heart thumped with the excitement of their lips touching and fired off sparks everywhere on her body. When the man started lifting and separating her ass cheeks, kneading them like he had biscuits to make, she had to shut him down, or else he'd take her right there on the dance floor.
"I gotta get back to work, Elijah—"
"Mmm hmmm."
She pulled his hands away from her backside reluctantly. He slapped her rump again playfully.
"When we get back home, I'll get them big legs around me again," he teased.
He grabbed onto his dick and showed her the bulge ready for her. She waved a hand to shoo him away, but he held her from behind and pressed his temple against hers, swaying to the music. He gently tugged on the soft abundance of her belly and held it while putting his tongue in her ear again.
"You my woman, understand? My wife."
"Yes."
He patted her rump, and she meandered over to the food, playing with her protective haint blue beads, and giving herself time to collect her thoughts about Smoke. She grinned until her cheeks hurt; her husband's touches still lingered over the skin of her arms and midsection.
"Love looks good on you, Annie," Millie said.
Annie patted her friend's hand and calculated the amount of food left to cook. Plates were moving, but the liquor not as quick while folks danced. They would have to lower prices on the booze. Smoke wouldn't like that. The man wanted to make a profit, not break even…or worse. Surveying the crowd, if Club Juke could maintain its current capacity week after week, they would be alright.
She checked the trays of uncooked fish left. Not enough. Millie and Alberta noticed it, too. There was a tub of extra fish on ice in Smoke's truck.
"We need to get the rest from the truck…Hampton, come help me bring the fish in," Annie asked a young man standing idly by the table watching the dancing.
"I can get it for you, Annie," Beau Willie said.
He tossed a bottle of Irish beer into a waste bin.
"That's alright Beau Willie, Hamp can help me—"
"I got it," he said.
He headed out the side door, and Annie followed. She paused at the door's threshold and glanced over her shoulder. Smoke and Stack spoke to each other on the landing of the stairs leading to the second level.
She slipped outside and the balmy fall air felt hot and sticky on her skin.
"The truck's over there," she said, pointing.
He ambled over and she followed behind him.
A crow sat on the truck. Annie stared at it. The bird's eye shine announced its presence. It was odd to see a lone crow like that at night. Normally they did communal roosting hidden away. They preferred safety in numbers, and the anomaly of seeing one crow wide awake and watching her sent Annie's intuition into overdrive.
A pale white moon attracted her attention, and she turned to look at Club Juke in its entirety, surrounded by dense trees. The music bubbled out from it, and so did all the laughter inside. They were isolated from everyone in Clarksdale. The sawmill was the perfect property to buy.
The crow kept watching her.
It stretched its wings with a couple of loud flaps and then settled into observing her and Beau Willie. She touched her beads. The crow seemed familiar to her, like from some dream she had recently, one that woke her up in the middle of the night panting. Smoke had been in the dream with her. It had been so real that she could smell his skin and the cigarette smoke on his clothes. The crow spoke to her like a friend in that dream and told her not to worry. Her man was coming home soon.
Annie shook her head. Focused on the task at hand.
"It's up in there, Beau Willie," she said.
He pulled the tarp back and climbed onto the truck. He picked up the heavy tub of fish Smoke bought from Bo Chow and left it on the edge before jumping down on the ground.
"Thank you for helping me," she said.
"No problem, Annie. Always happy to help."
Beau Willie peered at her with softness in his deep-set eyes. Recently widowed, he cared for his four young children with his mother's help. His grown face still held the boyish charm she fell for as a teenager.
"Annie, can I ask you something personal?"
"What?"
"Is he staying for good this time?"
Annie wiped the back of her neck and turned to head back. He clasped her hand and held her in place.
"I'm not tryin' to be disrespectful to your husband. We both know who he is and what he does. You deserve better, Annie. Someone who won't run out on you when things get tough or even when bad things happen. I loved you first. He stole you from me—"
"Nobody stole me, Beau Willie."
"Then why him? Huh?"
"You and I were so young when we dated. You had plenty of girlfriends after me and married a good woman—"
"They weren't you, Annie. I've had you in my heart for a long time. If he doesn't stay this time like he didn't before…then give me a chance to rekindle us. I can give you a family already. I work hard…look after my kin. I ain't never stopped loving you. Even when you chose him over me, I held you here…"
He touched his heart.
"He's my husband. What you want, Beau Willie, is what I caint give. Maybe…maybe if Smoke never came back…maybe if he'd been killed or thrown in prison and stuck on a chain gang for life…maybe if something like that happened…our bond would be broken. But that man is a part of me and planted so deep in my soul that there ain't nothin' that you or any other man in that juke can say to change my mind different. I would walk through hell with him. Do you hear me?"
"He already put you through hell, Annie. Left you all alone, for all those years—"
"But he back now," she said, shifting her weight onto one foot.
She hated Beau Willie in that instant. He had the audacity to bring out the niggling twinges of doubt into her mind about Smoke.
The click of a revolver behind them snapped them to attention.
"You heard her, Beau Willie. I'm back now. I suggest you take that fish into the juke and stay the fuck away from my wife," Smoke said.
Beau Willie blinked rapidly and stepped back from her.
"No need to have that out, Smoke," Beau Willie said.
"Why not? I come outside and see another man propositioning my wife to leave me, and what am I supposed to do? Let that shit fly? I should blast holes in you right now, but I got a business to run. Pick that fish up, nigga, and go."
Beau Willie glared at Smoke. He didn't dare look at Annie again. Smoke aimed the gun at the man's head.
"I can take you out clean or painful. Your choice," Smoke said.
Beau Willie lifted the metal tub of iced fish and trudged back into the juke.
Smoke holstered his gun and faced Annie.
They stared at one another in silence.
"How much you hear?" she asked.
"Everything."
Her tongue worried the roof of her mouth as her eyes welled up.
"You really staying, right?" she said.
"You let that nigga get in your head?"
Annie closed her eyes. Tilted her head back slightly so no tears would fall.
"I'm staying," he reassured her.
She nodded her head once, afraid the knots in her stomach would find a way to take root in her chest.
"You believe me, dontcha, baby?"
"Like you told me back at my place. I believe what I can see," she said.
She left him outside and returned to the makeshift kitchen to oversee the cleaning of the fish. Smoke did his rounds on the floor, and she fought the anxiety of worrying about him and his plans. Her grandmother always told her people showed you who they were, and she could believe in what Smoke did. Not what he said.
Delta Slim beckoned for Sammie to take center stage with pride in his voice. The young man was finally getting his chance to sing.
"Tell them who you are…" Delta Slim said.
Sammie shyly and sweetly introduced himself, and Annie couldn't help but smile at how precious he was to the Moore family. He was her family, too, and he glanced at her briefly. She nodded her head for him to show the world his gifts and Sammie started singing something he never shared before and the hairs on her neck and arms raised up.
Immediately, a tunnel vision warped her reality and Annie pushed out her breath to keep herself from having a panic attack and passing out.
Sammie.
His guitar.
Annie stared at the walls as Sammie wailed out the blues with Delta Slim perched on stage like a proud Poppa. She could see the people shouting and encouraging Sammie to let loose, and when he held a long note, his voice ripped through the ceiling and Annie sensed there were more people in the sawmill than the ones she could physically see. Some unseen entity darted past her skin, touching her like bird wings fluttering in the air. High above, perched on a rafter, the crow from outside gazed down at her. The surge of power in the room engulfed the entire juke.
Smoke looked in her direction, just as shocked by the music and Sammie's voice and also by the triumphant way the people danced. Grace and Bo also twirled in time to the blues music that wrapped everyone in a cloak of revelry and freedom to be who they be.
Annie gasped, wildly overstimulated by the unseen. She touched the top of her head, feeling the sensation of an overwhelming presence.
It freed her.
She locked eyes with Smoke far across the room and he strode forward, zigzagging through the crowd on a direct path to her. The weight of Sammie's music slowed everything in her mind down and her husband's movement seemed even slower. She moved from around the counter and lunged for him, pushing through sweaty people, needing to get to her man.
Smoke reached for her, and she cradled his face.
"I need you. Here with me," she said.
"I ain't going nowhere."
Their lips crashed together, tongues battling to subdue the other in a frenetic exchange of energy and desire. He entwined their fingers and pulled her through the crowd, heading for the stairs. The music had risen to a crescendo that vibrated on her skin with an intensity that should've burst into flames.
Smoke pulled her up the stairs and into a room that he used for himself, that he planned to make his office if the juke proved profitable. He slammed the door shut behind them.
He spun her around and helped her take off her dress, unhooked her bra, and pushed her onto an old cot covered in a coarse blanket. Smoke undressed quickly, and the music rose through the floor.
"Somebody take me…in your arms tonight…!"
Sammies mature voice thundered below them.
The only thing Smoke had on was the mojo bag she made for him and his metal dog tags from the war. His dick pointed at her and dripped pre-cum. He barely gave her time to pull off her panties before his erection parted her slick labia and sank into her.
"Oh…Jesus!" Annie shouted.
Her man was down in that bottom.
He cradled her breasts and stretched his mouth around her areola, sucking to his heart's content. She wrapped her thighs around him and he gave her more of the deep dick she'd been craving for seven years.
"This is my pussy," mumbled into her ear.
The weight of him smothered her in scorching heat and his steady heartbeat.
He dropped to his knees and spread her legs, licking his wide tongue against her labia, giving extra tender care to her clit. Daddy was hungry and made her a sopping wet mess. He took his time until there was nearly a puddle under her.
"Turn over," he said, helping her move into the position wanted.
She placed herself on her hands and knees. He plunged his tongue inside her entrance and she squealed. Rubbing on her ass, he stood and inserted that thickness between his legs back into her, grunting and cussing up a storm. Her pussy felt exquisite to him by the sounds he moaned out. She was as hot and gushy as he wanted. He angled himself so he could watch her titties hang and smack together with each powerful thrust. Annie was so wet that her pussy sounded like it was having its own conversation taking his dick in the small room.
He climbed on the cot with Annie and pulled her onto her knees. She spread her thighs wide. He took back shots, holding her arms behind her, and Annie's tits bounced like crazy, forcing throaty moans from him. The pounding of the rhythm below them matched the pounding Smoke gave her pussy. The frenzy of his dick going in and out pulled lustful cries of pleasure from her lips. He palmed her breasts and rolled his fingers across her big nipples.
"You coulda been getting this pussy all the time," she said.
He clutched onto her tits, squeezing them, before gripping her arms tight, delighting in her titties shaking and arousing him more.
Annie squeezed her walls around his girth and he shouted her name.
"Pussy so good…Annie…"
She took control and pulled away from him.
"Whatchu doing? I need that shit…" he gasped.
She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Her thighs spread and wedged against his hips. Her breasts rested on his chest. He fondled them and stared up at her.
"I love you, Elijah. I never stopped loving you. All these years…I never once wanted any man the way I wanted you."
He thrust up, and she snapped her eyes closed. He stretched her like no other, and it felt incredible.
"Elijah…"
He thumbed her clit, allowing the slick wetness from her pubic hairs to coat the button every man wanted to push on her since Smoke had been away. She lowered her head and kissed him. His lips were so fluffy and soft against her mouth. The taste of her pussy there pleased him. He licked his lips as she tasted herself.
"I love you…hear me, woman? I love you. Don't let one of these niggas get killed tryna take you from me."
"No one can take me from you."
"You sure?"
She stopped moving.
"You think I'd want anyone else?"
She spread her hands on the wide planes of his chest. Traced two fingers down the path below his belly button of soft hairs that led to the wild pubic bush surrounding his dick.
He didn't answer, trusting the sincerity in her eyes.
"All I ever wanted was you…just you, Elijah. And when you left me…"
He lifted himself to face her and held his hands around her waist and backside.
"Shhh…shhh. Don't cry, Annie. Baby, please…I don't ever want to make you cry again. I promise."
He kissed away each teardrop that fell from her eyes. The soft pecks built up her confidence in him and she breathed easier. His voice stayed soft.
"I told you I missed you and wanted to be with you…I also want us to try for a baby again. Build our family," he said.
"You do?"
"Yes. That is…if you want that, too."
She hugged him tight.
"I do…I do!"
She wept so hard her eyes blurred. Smoke gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart nearly burst with joy.
Annie rocked on him, pleasuring herself and him. Smoke held her breasts and sucked on her nipples.
"Oh…damn…Elijah…you're making me…oh Jesus!"
Annie came hard, and it rocked her world. Smoke massaged her breasts and watched her face transform with the rapturous climax. He grazed his teeth across a nipple and she shuddered, exalting in the sensations cascading all across her skin.
"We can try for a baby right now," he said.
He flipped her back over onto the small cot and she yelped as he tossed her legs over his biceps.
"Will you let me put another baby in you, Annie?"
"I sure will," she gasped, nearly out of breath.
His dimples melted her. He got down to business, too. Touching her skin all over, kissing her throat and whispering words of love in her ear. He licked on her nipples and stared at her fullness.
"Touching you is like touching the beauty of the night sky, Annie. You my jewel…my most precious thing in this world. Without you…I ain't fit to live."
"Hush now…"
"Nah, I want you to hear me."
"I want you to show me."
He grinned and pumped that thickness into her slowly, letting her feel every inch. Her mouth parted, and he pressed his forehead against hers.
"Ooh…Elijah…baby…"
Her pants came faster, and the groans from him aroused her to new heights. He hunched over her and every muscle flexed for her. Their sweat mingled and his strokes curled her toes. He lowered her legs and thumbed her clit, watching his dick go in and out. His lips poked out and his face carried a serious expression.
She recognized that look.
He was about to cum.
"Annie…baby…I'm getting close…"
She fondled her own breasts, and it created more tension for him. His eyes darted from her pussy to her tits. The way his eyes narrowed, she knew it was going to be a big load.
"Annie!"
"Yes!"
"I'm cummin'!"
He threw his head back and roared her name, his thumb faithfully rubbing her clit until she spilled over into a new release. His dick throbbed inside her and she matched the pulses squeezing her walls around him to milk every drop of cum.
"Fuckkkk!"
His hoarse cry drowned out her whimpers of pleasure. Her pussy kept throbbing around him until the last surge of her orgasm quieted down enough where she could move again.
"Elijah?"
His eyes watered. Tears fell down on her. The tone of his voice trembled.
"I'm sorry, baby…for everything…"
"My love…it's okay…you're here with me…we're here together," she said.
"I can't give you back those seven years…"
"Shhh…stay with me here…in this moment… in the right now."
He twisted his head to the side in shame. She pulled it back to look at her.
"We here," she said
He kissed her forehead.
Smoke snuggled around her until they were in a tight spoon together. He played with a breast and listened to her breathing calm down. The music below them kept going and Annie didn't want to leave his arms ever again. She shifted her position, and Smoke rested his head on her breasts. Stroking his hair gently, she snatched that tiny moment of peace for themselves, forgetting about everything and everybody in the juke.
Annie cleaned herself up as best she could with the buckets of water Smoke brought up from a well out behind the juke. No one paid attention to him or questioned why he needed to tote water and clean rags upstairs. He cleaned himself up, too, and they rejoined the dancing below.
She floated.
Making love to him grounded her and pushed away any doubt.
He was going to stay with her.
She hoped they had conceived a little one. Lord knows he put enough semen in her over the course of a day to open a whorehouse. She laughed at the thought.
Smoke made his rounds, checking in on everything before he slipped his hand over hers to dance one more time.
She nuzzled her face against his cheek, pulling an open smile from his face. It was such a shock that even Delta Slim had to look twice to make sure it was real.
She hooked her arms around her husband's neck, swayed with him in time to the music and their own internal rhythm. Part of his mojo bag peeked out from his vest. She touched it. Early that morning, she had fed it, prayed over it, recharged it with her love and that of her ancestors to protect him.
"Blood of my blood…bone of my bone…," she whispered.
"You putting a root on me, woman? I told you… I'm home for good. Forever," he said.
"Forever ever?" she teased.
"For always."
"Ashe," she affirmed.
"What that mean again?"
"And so it is."
"I like that."
"Me too."
"Annie?"
"Yes, Elijah?"
"I love you."
He kissed her softly. Kissed life back into her.
The music played on, and for a few hours, it did seem like forever.
A.N.:
Wanted to put out a short Smoke/Annie fic to practice getting Annie's voice for another fic. I plan to write more about these two. How they met. Had their first child etc. This short is connected to my "Choose One" longer fic. You may recognize a speculative figure lurking in the story if you've started reading "Choose One."
Enjoy!
Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Romance, Adult Language, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 4K
Masterlist HERE.
"See-line woman (see-line)
Black dress on (see-line)
For a thousand dollars (see-line)
She wail and she moan (see-line)"
Nina Simone—"See-Line Woman."
On the third day, just like the Jesus in the bible that Bernice loved so much, Lena rose from her respite. She bathed, perfumed her body, and curled her hair perfectly. She caught a cab to the club, picked up her favorite roasted peanuts to share with her co-workers, and strolled inside to find Smoke waiting for her at the bar.
"Lena. Good to see you again. Are you feeling alright?"
The concern in his voice touched her.
She put her peanuts behind the counter and took off her coat and hat. He checked out her hair and the new black work dress that was tighter than usual. It revealed more of her figure, especially her behind. She handed him brand new pre-rolls inside another cigarette case.
Dimples.
"Shall I bring your drink to your table?" she asked, already mixing dark rum and orange juice.
"Nah, I'll have it here. Thanks."
Max raised an eyebrow at her.
Lena handed Smoke the drink, and he stroked her finger gently while taking the glass. He enjoyed the opening floor show from the vantage point of the bar. It made some staff members nervous to see him hanging out there. Smoke wasn't the fun twin. Stack was.
Caroline fumed all night, upset that someone hadn't seated him at his regular table where she could monopolize his attention. During the headlining band's break, Lena joked with the bass player and the drummer who requested whiskey shots from her. They were guys she knew from her time as a waitress at a port diner where she served sailors, hookers, johns, and flamboyant pimps.
She forgot about Smoke being there and shared bawdy jokes and sordid tales about the wharf, cracking the men up. The drummer tapped a beat on the counter, reminiscing about the good times on the wharf, and the bass player started singing an old song about prostitutes working tricks. Lena got to bobbing her head and swiveling her hips behind the counter as she walked seductively like the streetwalkers did.
"Shake it Lena!" the drummer said.
She waved her hand dismissively at him and stacked shots of whiskey on a tray for Bernice. The bass player kept singing to her.
"See-line woman…dressed in green…wears silk stalkings…with golden seams…sing it with me, Lena!"
Smoke stood from his seat.
"Alright now. Let the lady work in peace. Break time is over. These people need music on the bandstand, not here."
Smoke's tone was firm, but there was a gleam in his eye. He enjoyed seeing the playful side of her. She also sensed that he didn't want other men taking her attention away from him in the club. The bass player and drummer slinked away.
"See-line woman…see-line…she drink coffee…she drink tea," Lena sang.
"A woman shouldn't be singing a song like that," he said.
"A woman can sing anything she wants," she countered.
The lilt in her voice worked magic on his lips. He smiled at her in a way he hadn't before. It lit a fire in her to be a little extra that night. Smoke took his half-finished drink back to his regular table and Lena chased after the bass player and drummer headed for the bandstand. She whispered in the drummer's ear and he drew back from her with uncertainty in his eyes.
"Don't worry, just do it," she said.
They took their positions back on the bandstand. Lena fluffed her curls and waited.
The bass player spoke to the bandleader, and he glanced over at Lena with curiosity. She waved her fingers at him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to do a song for you…it's an oldie, but a goodie. This one is going out to Mr. Smoke Moore."
Smoke stared at the bandleader with a crease on his forehead. Caroline lit his cigarette for him and he puffed away, waiting to see what the band would play. The music came out fast and spicy.
"Girl, what are you doing over here?" Bernice asked.
"Catching a bee with the honey he likes."
Lena strode over to the mic stand and looked in Smoke's direction. Her voice matched the raciness of the bands' playing. The serving staff stayed rooted in place, their mouths open, watching the bartender sing instead of the male vocalist on the piano. She flicked her hands like she was clucking juicy gossip to her girlfriends at the hair salon for her weekly pressing. The band members backed her up by repeating 'see-line' after each line she belted out.
"See-line woman…dressed in red…make a man…lose his head…"
The crowd reveled in the vulgar connotations, and the flute player punctuated her seductive tone with bright accents. She rolled the words off her tongue sensually. People jumped up to dance. Lena gave them the raunchy song they needed to get laid that night.
"See-line woman…black dress on…for a thousand dollars…she wail and she moannnn…."
Lena ran her hands along the sides of her hips and thrust her pelvis three times toward the crowd on the dance floor before twirling in a circle, leading the audience into a lustful frenzy of release.
"Purr like a cat…wink at a man…and he wink back…fuck that man good…and he fuck ya back…."
She stroked the mic stand like it was a long, hard dick and the audience went crazy, repeating the chorus after her like they were her back-up singers. Lena sang the most vulgar version of the song she knew, drawing out shocked and delighted gasps from the crowd. The dancing became frenetic, primal…transcendent. She let the band play, gyrating her hips slowly in such an erotic way that she aroused herself.
Stepping away from the mic, she let the band finish for her.
She walked past Smoke.
His eyes had a shine in them that gave her goosebumps. He called out to her.
"Lena."
She ignored him, returning to the bar where it grew hectic because customers and staff wanted to flock to her with praise.
"Girl, you are so nasty! I can't believe you got up there and sang that!" Bernice cackled.
"My, my, my," Frank said, "Who knew that type of filth could come out of your mouth?"
Lena accepted the compliments with the chiding and finished her shift.
Smoke stayed away from the bar.
At the end of closing, she sighed and rolled her stiff neck. Max put the day's take in the safe and they both snuck a drink of rye whiskey together.
"You were something else tonight, Miss Lena," Max said, clinking his glass with hers. "They ought to hire you for an engagement here at the Sunset Café. Where you learn to sing like that?"
"Hanging with sailors."
"You too young and pretty for those uncouth ruffians down there."
"I'm not that young," she muttered under her breath so Max couldn't hear.
She was neither young nor old. Timeless. Perhaps eternal if she thought about it more.
"Night, Max. Frank," she said.
"Want me to see you out?" Max asked.
"No, go 'head and finish up."
Lena grabbed her hat and the fur coat that Stack bought her and pulled it on. She stuffed her bag of peanuts in the pockets along with her tips for the night.
The air felt crisp and cool against her face. She inhaled, plopped her hat on her head, and headed left.
Smoke leaned against the building with one foot pressed against it. His blue flat cap was pulled low, nearly hiding his eyes.
"Mr. Moore."
"Headed home?"
"Yeah."
He stared at her. She pulled her coat tighter around her middle.
"You have a nice voice. How come you don't sing instead of working behind the bar?"
She sighed and propped herself next to him on the wall.
"That's not the type of life I want to have."
"What kind of life you want?"
"Not sure. But I enjoy working at the bar. I meet all kinds of interesting characters. It's easy. I hear great music for free. I can watch pretty people in their pretty clothes have fun."
"You got a man?"
She blinked and darted her eyes toward the street that stayed active with night owls. He chuckled.
"What, you married or something?" he said.
"No. Nothing like that. Besides, no man would want to marry me, anyway."
"Why not?"
His probing eyes had an earnestness in them that was refreshing.
"I can't have children. A man doesn't want a woman that can't have his babies."
Something flickered behind his eyes and he glanced down at his shoes.
"What about you?" she said.
"What about me?"
"You with someone?"
He shook his head.
"The life I lead ain't got time for a woman in it."
"So why are you asking me if I have a man?"
She turned in toward him. He leaned a shoulder on the wall and faced her.
"Just curious."
"Why?"
"Cuz if you were my woman, you wouldn't be working."
"What would I be doing?"
Lena stepped closer to him. He lowered his head, and she held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her. Although he had the same face as Stack, Smoke carried a maturity that was beyond his age. He gazed at her lips and she puckered them.
"Let me give you a ride home."
He pulled back and Lena stared at him, miffed that she couldn't taste his lips.
"Okay," she said, once she realized he wasn't going to kiss her.
He opened the passenger side of his red roadster and she climbed in. She gave him her address, and they rode in silence.
"Wait, this isn't my place," she said.
He pulled in front of a building that was fancy and exclusive.
"I know. It's my place."
He climbed out of the car from his side and opened up her passenger door. Helped her out.
The distinguished-looking Black doorman tipped his hat at Smoke and opened the door for them. Lena didn't say a word as Smoke clasped her hand in his and took her toward the elevator.
"Evening, Mr. Moore," the elevator operator said.
Smoke nodded and Lena stood next to him. Her hands shook slightly, and a light sheen of sweat dampened the back of her neck and her thighs. There was no playful banter between them, like Stack would've been doing to make her smile or laugh. Smoke stayed solemn as they stepped off the fifth floor.
At his door, she stopped him from turning the key by placing her hand on his chest.
Something changed within him. His heart beat beneath her fingers. He placed his hand softly over hers, keeping it near his heart.
"Why did you bring me here, Smoke?"
"Because you want to be here. With me."
She swallowed hard. Butterflies danced in her belly.
"How you know that for sure?"
"You been tryin' to get my attention for weeks. Now you have it all."
Her eyes welled up.
He tilted his head.
"Why the tears?"
"I didn't think you wanted me. Just about gave up until tonight."
"I'm glad you didn't. I haven't been attracted to anyone like this in a long time."
He kissed her then…so unexpected…so delicious.
His tongue delved inside her mouth and she let go of any need to control the outcome of their encounter.
He pulled away to finish opening the door.
His apartment was neat. Spacious. The furnishings were brand new. It smelled like pipe smoke and expensive cologne.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Please," she said.
She needed time to get her bearings with him.
He went into his kitchen, and she looked around. The view from his livingroom window overlooked another classy apartment building. There were three bedrooms, a pool table, and a card table in a corner. A nice fireplace with a wide mantel showcased the front room. She took off her coat and hat. Placed them on the couch.
"Big place," she said after he handed her a glass of white wine.
"Courtesy of Al Capone," he said.
"Cost you a lot?"
"Cost me nothing," he said with a wink.
He looked around his place as if seeing it for the first time, too.
"I share this spot with my brother—"
Lena coughed, and the wine went down the wrong pipe.
"You okay?"
"Yes. Excuse me. Wine is so good I drank it too fast."
She coughed a few more times to clear her throat and put her glass on his coffee table.
"I kinda miss his noisy ass. He'll be back in another week. Lotta shit happening…some expansions coming up."
"Glad to hear things are going well. The stuff I read in the papers is kinda scary…"
He stood in front of her with an intense look in his eyes.
"You're different," he said.
"I'm sure you say that to a lot of women."
She moved around the coffee table to look at the art on the wall. He hung up his coat and put his hat on a rack near the front door.
Lena noticed a phonograph in the room near the fireplace and went to it. She looked at the considerable record collection they had in a box and picked out a Bessie Smith record. Piano chords punctured the stillness of the room and Bessie's mournful voice sang of wanting a little sugar in her bowl.
"You tryna tell me something?" he said.
"Maybe."
Smoke grinned and his face lit up.
She snaked her hips over to him and they slow-danced.
"You're so much better looking when you smile, Mr. Moore."
"Smoke."
"Smoke."
He kissed her forehead before seeking her lips. His kisses were unhurried, and he nibbled on her neck between moments of using his wide tongue to explore her mouth. They kissed and danced to the music, stretching out the foreplay, learning what type of pace they wanted to have for the night.
Lena unbuttoned the first four buttons of his shirt while he pulled down his suspenders.
"What's this?" she asked.
She touched a small leather bag hanging around his neck. Above it sat a necklace made of two silver coins. He touched the coins first.
"This is a necklace me and my brother made when we were in the war together. He has one too. It makes us feel connected when we're apart, y'know? He's the only family I have out here."
"Are your parents still alive?"
He shifted his gaze to her lips again. Evasive.
"My mother is still in Mississippi. My father…he's dead."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. He was mean… some folks say evil. He wasn't always like that. This right here is my mojo. Been wearing it for seven years. My old lady said it's supposed to protect me while I'm away."
"You're married?"
"I was. Common law. Not anymore."
"What happened? To you and your wife. Why didn't it work?"
Smoke fondled his mojo.
"Me and Annie…that was her name…she and I grew up together. She was a Creole from Louisiana. Her folks came out to Mississippi for work when she was little. We had a baby girl together who passed away real young. Almost two months after she was born. That was a tough time for us, and then the war came and…me and Stack…we went overseas. Never went back."
"She still down there?"
"Yeah."
Lena kissed his hand while it still held the mojo bag.
"I think I would've died had you left me," she said.
"That's all in the past."
"I'm sorry about your baby girl. I bet she was a real pretty little one."
He grinned at the memory.
"She was."
"What was her name?"
"Selah."
"Forever."
"Huh?"
"Her name. Selah. It means forever."
"I didn't know that. Forever…"
"Smoke…"
His lids spilled over with tears. Lena tried to wipe them away.
"I didn't mean to make you sad, I'm sorry Smoke…forgive me…please…forgive me."
He sought her lips and kissed away his sorrow. She gave him the passion she held for him and he groaned with the relief at letting go. Sliding her hands around his neck, she held him close. His hands roamed, learning her curves and soft places. Their body heat grew as passion rose higher.
Lena reached down and squeezed his dick. It throbbed in her hand and she groaned.
"Smoke!"
They both moaned between kisses and he fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers. He threaded his fingers in the back of her curls and forced her to face the mantel. She spread her arms wide and placed her hands on the surface to steady her body for what was to come. He shoved her dress above her hips. Smacking her ass once through her satin panties, he watched it jiggle.
He was an ass man, for sure.
Yanking down her panties, he pulled down his underwear to free his dick. She gasped when he lowered himself and bit both ass cheeks tenderly, then kissed them before dragging his tongue across the cleft of her backside. He kissed the back of her neck, and then whispered in her ear, "Do you want me?"
She shuddered at the heat in her ear as he plunged his tongue in and out.
"Tell me you want me."
"I want you…I want you Smoke!"
She began mewling as he fingered her clit.
"So wet…dripping…Lena…"
The breathiness of his voice had her stomach flip-flopping.
"Fuck me, Smoke. I want your dick!"
He dragged the head against her pubic hairs, parting the center until he reached her slick labia.
"What do you want me to do again?" he teased.
He nibbled on her ear and fingered her, dipping a tentative index and middle finger inside of her. Wiggling his digits, they both heard the gushy sound of her pussy…so ready for him.
"Make love to me."
"Maybe I wanna fuck instead."
She turned to look back at him. The words out of his mouth said one thing. His eyes said another.
"We can do both," she said, pouting her lips, the red lipstick seducing him more.
He entered her slowly, keeping one hand on the arch of her back and the other squeezing her ass cheek. Those needy eyes stayed on her ass. His thrusts were even, and like his brother, his dick tugged on her clit, giving her the friction to keep her overly aroused. She watched his face while he took her. So intense. His mouth parted as she squeezed his dick, sending tight pulses along his erection. He froze up and let her throw it back on him. By then, his hands hovered above her ass, slapping each orb, thrilled to listen to the loud smacking sound. He grunted, then gripped her hips to control the rhythm. Ecstasy lit up his face. Any thoughts of using condoms didn't matter. The man was in there deep and clapping her cheeks with the care that only an ass man could give.
Lena gave him a show, making her cheeks bounce.
"Fuck girl…dassit…give that shit to Daddy!"
She laughed, and he showed all his teeth with his lascivious smile that revealed gums. His lips bunched up when she hit his spot. She moved forward until she was just fucking the tip and he nearly lost his damn mind. He pulled down the top of her dress, trying to hold a breast, and she got off his dick.
Undressing, she took everything off except for her garters and stockings.
Smoke lusted at her nudity. She trembled. So much desire poured out from him through his eyes.
"Damn, you got some beautiful titties. They just stand up high. And your nipples are perfect. You look like one of them statues in a museum."
Her face warmed up from the compliments.
His eyes dropped to the damp hairs hiding her sex.
He took off his clothes and just let them fall to the floor. His dick was a solid mass of pleasure.
"You like what you see?" he said.
He grabbed his dick and fisted himself for her, letting pre-cum drip onto the floor.
Lifting one of her legs, he plunged back into her and fucked the shit out of her while standing up.
He pulled out of her pussy and threaded his fingers with hers, pulling her toward the back of the apartment. They passed two bedrooms. At the third, he picked her up and gently placed her on his enormous bed. She let him feel all over her body, and she did the same to his. Despite having the same physique as Stack, Smoke had pleasure areas that were distinct. Knowing all of Stack's erogenous zones, Lena had fun discovering all of Smoke's.
"Climb on top, yeah…the other way baby, I want to look at that ass while you bounce on me…damn…Lena…"
Glancing back at him again, she took joy in watching the contortions on his face. She gently rubbed and squeezed his nutsack. It felt heavy and so warm in her hand. Stopping her bounces, she let her pussy cradle his dick in wet warmth. His eyes rolled back, and he luxuriated in the feeling of connection.
Lena turned back around to face him, wanting to kiss him while she made love. They entwined fingers, and she held his hands down on the bed.
"You're riding me like you've been wanting this dick," he said.
"I have. As fine as you are, I'd be crazy not to want all this."
He thrust up, and her clit throbbed. Smoke rubbed gentle circles on it, pulling out soft sighs from her lips.
"Can I cum inside you?" he asked.
"Yes."
Her sweat dripped down on him and mingled with the sweat on his skin. She admired his chest and his mojo bag. Touched the silver coins necklace.
"I can make you feel good all the time, Lena. If you let me."
"I want you to. I want you."
"Yeah? I'm a lot to handle."
"I can handle you."
He thrust up and touched a part of her that brought an explosion of stars into her eyes. The slow rotation of his hips felt like the motion of water. It captivated her. She touched his lips. He kissed her fingers. His hands roamed over her breasts, and he pinched her nipples, making her laugh again in delight. His eyes latched onto hers and they remained quiet, staring at one another and mutually rocking against their hot, sweaty flesh.
The sex was slow. Gentle. Freeing.
Her orgasm rippled in strong steady throbs that knocked the breath from her.
"Smoke! Oh…I'm cumming on your dick…you're making me…ooh…ooh…"
The release stretched across her stomach and brought tingles to her nipples. Her toes bunched at his thighs, and Smoke kept pumping into her, thrusting his hips, stretching her walls…capturing her heart. When her mouth fell open, letting out a groan as the next wave of another orgasm exploded out from her, Smoke's body went rigid and he ejaculated. Her insides throbbed with his dick and it was the perfect start to their night together. Glancing at his face, there were shiny tears in his eyes.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 3.3K
Masterlist HERE.
"See-line woman (see-line)
Dressed in green (see-line)
Wears silk stockings (see-line)
With golden seams (see-line)"
Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"
Bodies jammed to music next to other bodies crammed inside Bernice's tiny third-floor apartment. A phonograph played the hot jazz they liked and shiny Black faces shimmied and shook the floor down. Max manned the drink table with his girl, and Bernice collected money at the door.
Lena clutched Stack's hand, and he grinned from east to west entering the raucous rent party. Two seconds after tossing five dollars into Bernice's finest church hat, he entwined his fingers with hers and joined the sweaty dancers cutting the rug.
Oh, he could dance!
Lena squealed as he spun her around. She wiggled her hips, stomped her feet, and threw her arms in the air. Her friends, neighbors, and co-workers eyed him up and down as he swiveled his hips and thrust against her. Later, they shared some cheap reefer and glasses of terrible hooch, then bought plates of fried chicken wings, pickled pig's feet, and potato salad.
Bernice threw an old scratchy Charley Patton record on, and Stack squeezed his eyes shut. He threw one hand up and moaned, "Ohhhhh, shit! Some down home blues!"
He ground his hips against Lena, and she matched his seductive ways with a steamy, slow drag. His hands wandered up and down her back, but once it headed further south and palmed her ass cheeks, they had to leave.
"Follow me," she whispered in his ear.
She led him out of Bernice's place and guided him down a flight of creaky stairs to her smaller kitchenette apartment. She stopped at the shared bathroom on her floor.
"If you need to go, there it is," she said.
Inebriated, he could still tell her living conditions weren't great. He took a quick piss, and she waited for him outside the door. Despite the substandard housing, Lena liked the people who lived in her building.
Stack flicked water from his hands after washing them and trailed behind Lena to her place.
"It's not much, but it's home," she said.
They kissed in the doorway until she felt his dick poking through his pants. His eyes were glassy while peering at her, and she chewed on her bottom lip, studying his expression.
"What do you like about me?" she asked.
"Everything," he said.
"Be specific."
"I like your beauty…your hair…the way you look at me all night. I like the way you smile…dance…everything. Is that satisfactory for ya, or should I keep going?"
"Keep going."
"I like the way your lips feel pressed against mine. I like how you feel against me, all soft and warm and made for me…"
His lips danced along her neck, and he sucked the skin on her collarbone.
"Make love to me, Stack."
"I will."
He lifted her into the apartment and kicked the door closed. Her place only had two rooms, so he went to where the small bed was.
He kissed her clothes off her body. When she was completely nude, he memorized every inch of her, even the twisty strands of her midnight black spiral curls that everyone always admired and women copied.
"I'll be right back. Gonna wash up first," he said.
"Okay. I'll get you some soap and things."
She gathered up a clean towel, a bar of soap, and a brand new pink wash rag.
He left her apartment and padded down the hall to the shared bathroom. She went into her kitchenette and used the sink with another wash rag to clean herself. Drinking a glass of water, she rinsed out her mouth and waited for him.
While she reclined on her soft bed, he returned with only the towel wrapped around his waist. He carried his shoes, garments, and underwear in his hand. Tossing them on a dresser in the room, he climbed onto the bed next to her.
"I have rubbers," he whispered.
He held out a square tin box in his hand that housed condoms.
"Good."
It didn't matter. Lena couldn't have human children, anyway.
Stack reached for her, and she hugged him tight, sharing her lips with his. She carefully kissed his forehead and eyelids, and puckered both his cute cheeks and groomed chin, leaving lipstick smudges. Lena kissed him long enough until her lips were swollen and tingled. He chuckled softly against her mouth and the warm breath added another rich sensation.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"I'm usually knee deep in pussy 'bout to bust by this point."
"Is that what your other women like? Fast sex?"
He leaned back on her pillow and she cuddled on his wide chest, tracing her index finger on his soft chest hairs. His fat dick rested on her thigh, leaking teardrops of pre-cum. He cupped one of her upturned breasts and admired the pert cocoa brown nipples ready for his lips.
"It's not always fast, but I'm usually on the go…working all hours…traveling for the boss. Things get tense. Got no time to waste."
"Seems like the stresses would make you take your time and enjoy yourself. Sounds like you're spent before you even get your trousers off, Mr. Moore."
"Stack."
"Stack…"
She poked the tip of his nose playfully.
"Let me show you how to do it right," she said.
"Hold on."
He opened a condom and rolled it down on his erection.
Lena climbed on top of him and slid down his length, letting his penis stay warm inside of her without moving her hips. She lowered her face to his and kissed him softly, enjoying the languid time she spent just exploring and loving his mouth. His breath shuddered against her lips as he rested his hands on her hips.
She used her teeth to snag his bottom lip and bit it playfully, clenching her vaginal walls to squeeze his heavy dick twice.
"Fuck…!" he gasped.
She still didn't rock or bounce on him, simply allowed her natural lubrication to coat the rubber with a gradual slippery ease. The cock warming worked on him. He stayed focused on her eyes. His lips parted, and he panted her name.
"Lena…Lena…Lena…shit…Lena…"
"You feel so good inside my pussy, Stack. I'm so full of you…"
She slipped her tongue between his lips and their tongues tussled and twisted with groans spilling out. His skin felt like fire and she matched his temperature. She squeezed that big dick again and his eyes widened with the pleasure.
Lena started bouncing then, and he helped give her more girth by thrusting up. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her backside and her bed suffered the strain of their weight humping each other.
He played with her breasts, licked and sucked her nipples tenderly, letting their passion rise to a scorching level. She slammed her ass on him and his body handled the loud smacking of their erratic friction. His eyes narrowed, and she brought him to the place she needed him to be.
"Show me why they call you Big Stack," she cried out.
The energy in the bedroom shifted and Stack flipped her over and rutted inside of her like a man with a serious mission. She yelped in surprise at the ferocity. He grunted with the exertion of stretching her walls to kingdom come…and then some.
Clawing his back, she stared up at the paint peeling on the ceiling and understood completely why the women flocked to his dick. He pumped in and out like a locomotive trying to reach the other side of a tunnel. The curve of his dick tugged on her clit and kept her in a maddening state of almost cumming, but not quite. It made her wetter, and she started crying because it felt too good to be true.
"Fuck me, Stack…oh…Big Stack…baby…!"
She thrashed under him and he pushed her legs up to her ears and fucked the sin outta her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she waited for the bed to crash down to the first floor. Glancing at the wall, the distance had changed. They'd fucked the bed a good seven inches from where it originally sat.
She jammed her cheek against his and hooked her legs over his hips. Her body writhed, keeping pace with his thrusts.
"Fuck… baby…fuck…oh…fuck that dick…fuck me…Lena! Lena!"
"Yes Daddy," she huffed in his ear, "Give it to me…I wanna feel it deep!"
He hunched over her and his body weight pushed her deep into the mattress. His release roared out of his throat, almost scaring her.
He collapsed on top of her, and she stroked the back of his neck.
"What did you do to me?" he gasped.
He rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She peppered his face with tiny kisses, and then jumped off the bed, grabbing her robe off the hook of the bedroom door.
"I'll go pee…wash up… and then we can do it again," she said.
Stack peeled off the condom.
"I'll be ready when you come back."
"You better. That was just the appetizer," she said.
"My God," he yelped.
She dashed out of the apartment and headed to the shared bathroom.
Lena and Stack kept their connection lowkey.
Very private.
A week after they started sleeping together, he moved her from the shabby apartment and paid to keep her in a luxury one inside a newer building with a doorman. She no longer had to share a bathroom and delighted in coming home to a hot bath inside her own space. He spoiled her with new clothes, jewelry, and fancy perfumes. If he couldn't see her, he'd send an errand boy to bring her the roasted peanuts she loved with some flowers. Just to let her know he was thinking of her above all his other paramours. At work, they pretended to be platonic acquaintances even though Max and Bernice knew better from the rent party.
None of the material gifts mattered to her. She only wanted his company and lovemaking.
However, she was greedy.
Lena turned her eyes on Smoke.
Out of the two brothers, Smoke was the more subdued and introverted. Women desired him as much as Stack and took great pains to catch his attention, but the man seemed to be in an insular world of his own. Contemplative. Not overly friendly. One who moved in shadows. He was pleasant with the Sunset staff and stuck close to Ernie as one of his lieutenants, like Stack.
When she knew Stack had to travel to Detroit, it surprised her that Smoke didn't go with him. They ran together on most syndicate runs as Ernie's reps, and this trip shouldn't have been the exception. Yet she stood behind the bar counter working and watching Smoke run the club and the streets while Ernie and Stack were away.
He ran a tight ship.
Lena liked that.
He exuded a quiet power that permeated the club. If Stack acted like a red rooster, strutting around and crowing orders to the staff, Smoke was the hawk watching far above, ready to swoop in with talons raised like a silent assassin.
A big band played to a packed crowd and Smoke perched himself at Ernie's table like a king observing his subjects, keeping them in line. She mixed him a Cohasset Punch because he liked dark rum, and walked it over to his table.
"You always seem to know when I need a drink," he said.
She set the glass down in front of him. Tried to think of a way to engage him without being a nuisance. Caroline, the server in that section of the club, bumped into her on purpose.
"I know what you're trying to do," Caroline hissed.
Lena stepped away from Smoke's table.
Caroline followed her.
"What are you talking about?" Lena said.
"You tried getting Stack, and that didn't work. Now you're going for Smoke. Stop flirting. He's off limits."
"Says who?"
Caroline put a hand on her hip. Her svelte physique was better suited to be a dancer instead of a server. She had the fair skin and keen features to be the next Fredi Washington.
"Stay away from him if you know what's good for you."
She jabbed her finger just under Lena's throat. Lena grabbed her finger and twisted it.
"Is there a problem, ladies?"
Smoke approached them with a neutral expression. Lena yanked her hand back from touching Caroline.
"No, sir," Caroline said with a slight grimace from the pain.
"We like to keep our reputation as a classy establishment. Can't have the staff bickering in front of customers. What's the issue?"
"Nothing, Mr. Moore. Just a misunderstanding," Lena said sweetly.
Lena tried to give him an openly carnal stare. He ignored it.
"Back to work then," he said, pivoting to his seat.
Caroline glared at Lena and quickly stomped off to see about a guest.
Lena had to figure out a way to attract him. Being pretty and using lethal stare-downs didn't work on him. He didn't chase tail. All kinds of pussy surrounded him and she never witnessed him taking advantage of it like his brother did.
All night, she plotted how to catch him. Because he had to run the club, he'd be there all week from opening until closing each night.
Two days passed. She tried everything from chatting him up to changing her hairstyle to see if he noticed.
Nothing.
There had to be a way to capture his attention.
He loved the big bands. Loved the dancing of the chorus girls and the patrons on the dance floor. He especially loved the vocalists who enchanted their audiences. She watched him get lost in the music, sometimes closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table.
On an especially busy night with a young horn player from New Orleans enthralling the club with an improvised solo, Lena watched Smoke struggle to roll his favorite tobacco. Taking a break from her job, she wandered over to him and helped roll the cigarette. Without saying a word, she handed it to him and even lit it with his gold lighter. He took a puff, blew out a stream of smoke, and eyed her.
"Thanks," he said.
She left him alone and twenty minutes later, before he could summon Caroline, Lena had a fresh drink ready for him at his table.
Snooping among her co-workers, she found out what brand of tobacco he liked and pre-rolled a few for him in her apartment. She left them in a silver cigarette holder with his first drink of the evening the next day.
It aggravated Caroline.
The other female servers, too.
The Smoke Stack twins had the raw animal magnetism that dampened panties and inflamed hearts. They were dangerous in the forbidden bad-boy way that made being around gangsters titillating. All the square broads and loose women preened in front of the brothers with their tongues damn near hanging out of their mouths like stray alley cats in heat.
Smoke became dependent on her for his comfort at work. He didn't want anyone else making his drinks or serving it to him…not even his meals there. The head chef told her that Smoke requested for her to bring his evening meal, not the regular servers on duty. She did so and Smoke stayed his normal, subdued self.
Except…
He started looking at her.
She'd wipe down the counter, retrieve bottles, joke with Max and Frank, serve guests with the charm and professionalism that garnered her a sterling reputation, and now and then, she'd feel eyes on her. When she glanced his way, he'd turn his head in another direction.
It surprised her to see him approach the counter and check in with the bar staff. He still said very little to her unless it was complimenting her hard work.
It clicked in her head to disappear.
Call in sick.
Smoke believed in order and things running smooth on his watch. If she threw a wrench into that comfort…
She called Max and told him she was down with the flu. Would be out for three days. She sat in her apartment listening to old blues records Stack liked and played with new styles for her hair. Ate candy. Cooked greasy foods. Napped for hours.
On her second afternoon playing sick, someone slipped a black envelope with a gold wax seal under her apartment door.
Lena used a letter opener to slice under the seal of an hourglass embedded in the wax. Inside the letter was plain white cardstock with a name written on it in gold embossed script. She memorized it, then placed the envelope and card on the floor, where it burst into flames. It withered away until there was only a whiff of smoke left. Sighing, she opened her bedroom window and quickly undressed.
Lying on her bed, she waited quietly for her transformation.
It always started as an intense heat in her toes that worked up to her midsection before painfully engulfing the rest of her. Her physical form liquefied into a gooey mass of black matter on the bed as her consciousness hovered above it, waiting to re-connect.
The essence of her floated down into the corporal form of a large crow.
She hopped off the bed and made her way to the window, perching on the sill. Leaping out, she spread her wings and soared above the tree near her apartment, and used a warm draft to carry her to the person she needed to see.
An elderly Black man sat on a park bench dressed in a smart blue suit holding a bag of breadcrumbs. He fed some pigeons vying for his generous offerings near his well-worn shoes.
Lena dropped next to him and the man glanced at her.
"You want some too, big fella?" the man said.
He sprinkled a small amount of crumbs for her on the bench, and she accepted a few to be polite. She cawed loudly and all the pigeons flew away. She needed his undivided attention.
"That wasn't real nice fella, those other birds weren't bothering you…oh," he said.
He gazed into her left eye, finally noticing the iridescent color.
"Oh," he said again, clutching his arm.
His breathing became haggard, and he grimaced before relaxing.
"I guess it's my time," he whispered to her.
Death came then.
She walked down a path unseen by other humans in the park. Mothers pushed baby prams, children ran around with nannies in tow, and young couples in love strolled in the sunshine holding hands.
Death wore a long sable veil that covered her entire body and trailed behind her into eternity. Underneath the covering, her obsidian skin shined brightly in an ethereal light, creating a tangible warmth that was as comforting as the womb the old man floated in when he was a baby. Back then, Death came to him as Life, coaxing him into the world. She was the first to hear him take his first breath as an infant beyond the veil. Now she had returned for his homegoing journey.
"Do not be afraid," Death said, reaching for him.
Unshed tears shined in his eyes.
"I'll try not to be."
"Thank you for finding him, Lena," Death said. "You may go now until I need you again."
Lena flapped her wings twice and leapt into the air. Looking down, she watched Death pull back her veil and envelop the old man in a loving embrace.
They vanished.
The bench held only the empty vessel that had once been Mr. Parnell Thomas James. Seventy-five years of age. He left behind a wife, four adult children, and five grandchildren. One day Lena would have to visit them, too.
Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.
Word Count: 3.8K
Masterlist HERE.
"See-line woman (see-line)
Dressed in red (see-line)
Make a man (see-line)
Lose his head (see-line)"
Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"
She fucked them both.
Smoke and Stack.
Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.
She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.
Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.
Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.
"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.
"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."
He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.
"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.
"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."
His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down redneck peckerwoods he ran away from.
"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.
"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.
Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.
"Stack!"
Lena tilted her head to see the caller.
Well, damn.
The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.
Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.
"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.
The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.
He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled, and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.
Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.
Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.
She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.
He didn't.
"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.
He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.
He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.
"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.
Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.
"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."
"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.
"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."
"How you know he's an ex soldier?"
Max held out his hand and wiggled it.
"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."
Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.
"I'll be right back," she said.
Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.
"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.
He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.
"What they call you around here?" she asked.
"Smoke."
"Not Stack?"
He showed more teeth and some dimples.
"No. Just Smoke."
He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.
"Where you from?" she asked.
"Mississippi."
"You really opening a juke down there?"
He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.
"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.
The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.
"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.
She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.
Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.
Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.
"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.
Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.
One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.
And she wanted them both.
Stack usually showed up at the Sunset around nine.
Lena figured out his routine quickly because out of the two twins, Stack liked to party and be around the nightlife the most. He stood out in a crowd of men and the ladies loved him.
The Sunset Café started advertising to lure more women into the place for capitalistic gain. Originally the owners created it as a gentlemen's club, but in order to stay lucrative during prohibition, they had to open up the market to new customers, and women loved to drink.
To hide the odorous stench of bootleg hard liquor that could turn female customers away, new cocktails were created adding syrups and various fruit juices to sweeten the bitter taste. The club manager ordered all bartenders to add more cherries, orange slices, and canned chucks of pineapples in the drinks to appeal to the good-time girls who sought excitement. Especially the white ones.
White women loved the Sunset.
White men loved it too, and the forbidden allure of rubbing shoulders with negroes brought out their lascivious side. Everyone in Chicago knew that colored folks couldn't have their own entertainment spaces without white folks sniffing for some action in the mix. As much as they pretended to hate negro people, they sure couldn't stay away from them. Colored patrons and performers tickled their libidinous fantasies. The best music, the best food, and the best dancing happened on the south side where negroes were crowded together. They didn't call it Bronzeville for nothing.
Lena eyed the entrance. Stack was due to swagger through any minute.
The supper hour kept the bar less hectic as folks ate garnished devilled eggs, green beans, steaks, fried catfish, buttermilk-dipped fried chicken, with the added sides of creamy macaroni and cheese with generous slices of honey cornbread.
Max flipped through his tattered, olive-colored copy of the H.P. Dreambook. A man wearing a turban in front of a crystal ball illustrated the cover. He pestered busboys, servers, and Lena about their dreams so he could search them up in his book and find the corresponding numerical interpretation to play the numbers. Another bartender named Frank polished glasses and worked the other end of the counter.
"C'mon Lena, your turn, what you dream last night?" Max asked.
"I don't really have dreams."
"Everybody dreams. Bernice, what about you?"
Bernice scratched an itch on her prominent nose and thought about her answer while she waited for Lena to pour whiskey into three tumbler glasses.
"The night before, I dreamed about going to Paris and seeing Josephine Baker," Bernice said.
She spun around and shook her hips.
"Y'all think she really dances over there naked wearing bananas?" Bernice asked.
"Lemme see, travel… bananas…dancing…" Max murmured.
He circled numbers in his book with a stubby pencil. Lena placed the drinks on Bernice's tray and tapped her foot waiting for Max. Two other female servers went to Frank to fill their orders.
"Okay…two…twenty-nine…seventeen," Max said.
He reached into his tip pocket and pulled out a coin, handing it to Bernice.
"Give that to Melvin and tell him to combinate my numbers," he said.
"You give your own money to the numbers man," Bernice said.
She flounced away from the bar, and Max sucked his teeth.
Stack strolled in and took off his hat and coat, leaving it with the coat check girl. He surveyed the room and two gleeful white women sauntered over to him.
"Them ofays sure do love them some Big Stack," Max said.
Bernice returned with another drink order. She glanced at Stack, too.
"Can you blame them? Look at him…just a big stiff drink I'd love to pour down my throat."
"Man can't even get into the club without women flocking to him," Max said.
"Those two wait to see him every week. They reserve the table closest to the door to catch him," Bernice added. "I ain't never seen him with anything darker than a paper bag, though."
"That's cuz you and those ladies are at the top of the hierarchy."
"What are you bumping your gums about now, Max?" Bernice sighed.
"Niggas out here go for color first, hair texture second, and shape last. Listen to me…don't roll your eyes…white girls and you lightskins…that would be you Bernice with your mixed ass…are at the top. If a woman ain't that, they'll take a brownskin, like Lena, if they have good hair. But if they can't have number one or two, a woman has to at least have a good shape. See, Bernice here, she only got one and two—"
"I got a cute shape, too! I'm all three!" Bernice protested.
"Not with those knock knees and small tits…anyway, like I was saying…you gotta have what's on that list or you won't get no attention in this club. That's why Lena is behind the bar and not on the floor with you all night getting the fat tips. Facts is facts, and that man over there likes to have all three."
They watched Stack as he charmed the women blocking him from the rest of the club.
"Hmmph. Men are stupid," Bernice huffed. "Miss Two-out-of-three, can I get three shots of rum?"
"Coming right up, Miss Three-out-of-three," Lena said.
Bernice cackled, then took the drinks away.
"I never noticed she had knock knees," Lena whispered to Max.
Stack sauntered over with the women and their loud chatter livened up the counter.
"Hey Max," Stack said.
"Good to see you this evening, Mr. Moore," Max said, taking on his polished bartender voice.
He dropped his dream book under the counter.
"What can I fix for you tonight, sir?"
Max waited for the order. Lena headed over to another patron who wanted hooch.
"Ladies, what would you like to drink?" Stack asked.
The first woman, a shapely red head with narrow features asked for a Sidecar, and the second woman, a wide-eyed brunette, requested a Malört.
"You like that bitter stuff?" Stack asked.
Lena clocked the brunette's curling edges from perspiration, and the slight roundness of her nose. To a regular white person, she could pass as Italian or even a Jewish Russian. However, the hair, the extra curve in her ass, and the nervous fluttery eyes told the truth to Lena. The woman glanced at her; a mutual understanding passed between them that she would be treated as a white woman. Who was she to judge what people had to do to survive a depression?
If Stack knew, he didn't let on. Max gave them their drinks and Stack turned his steady focus on Lena.
"You look real nice tonight, Lena."
"Thank you, Mr. Moore," she said.
"When you wear all those curls, it makes your pretty eyes look mysterious—"
"Stack," the redhead interjected.
Her tone came out sharply, saying his name.
"I'm talking, baby, give me a minute," he said.
The bass in his voice caused her lips to bunch up. Her brunette friend sipped the Malört and looked away.
"I didn't come down here to watch you talk to a bartender," the redhead whined.
"Bitch, I don't care what you came here to do."
Max stepped in to de-escalate.
"Mr. Moore, what would you like to have?"
Lena left them to serve other people, and Stack dismissed the two women. He conferred with Max and the floor show began, capturing his attention. Stack loved watching the dancers. He probably ran through most of them based on his reputation. Irritation stretched across his face and Lena served him the moonshine he loved.
"Those girls don't know how to act when you talk to other women," she said.
"I'm tired of them dingy broads anyway. They both have dry coochie and bad attitudes. White bitches love slumming with dark dick, but act all bent outta shape if a colored woman gets a tiny bit of attention."
"You do know one of them is colored, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
He grinned and looked deep into Lena's eyes. She gave him a sly smirk and his eyes drank her in.
"You want some more?" she asked, enunciating each word.
Stack watched her succulent red lips and his gaze dipped to the top of her white blouse, eyeballing the outline of her breasts.
"You undressing me with those eyes, Mr. Moore?"
Dimples.
"I think you're undressing me," he said.
"I been did that," she teased, and sashayed away to serve a counter rush of older men with their mistresses.
She knew he kept his eyes on her ass the way she intended by swinging her hips extra hard.
He loved watching her.
For weeks she acted coquettish and purred his last name any time she served him. Ernie treated him and Smoke as his most trusted muscle men. If he needed an enemy whacked, he sent the Smoke Stack twins with the chopper to deliver a Chicago overcoat first class. Stack strutted around the club with a dominance that aroused her. Most tough guys annoyed her, their performative masculinity a tremendous joke to her.
Not Stack.
He oozed overt power, and she wanted a taste of that in her bed.
"Be careful, Lena, being a gangster's woman ain't the life you want," Max warned on a different night.
He caught her ogling Stack. Lena loved the way his thighs stretched the material of his pants, and she licked her lips at the heavy bulge in the crotch. What she would give to sit on all that hefty weight. She flirted with the gangster using long unblinking stares on him, and lightly touched his hand whenever she served glasses of rum, gin, or the moonshine he liked to call dog soup. Eventually, he would just beeline to the bar to greet her the moment he walked into the club. He only had eyes for her.
Women were easy for Stack to catch because they threw themselves at him. She lured him in night by night, forcing him to chase her, keeping him expectant, and on his toes. The man hadn't chased a woman for a long time and it showed.
Her calculated seduction worked.
He started bringing her things. Diamond earrings. Real ones. Fancy gold hair clips and chocolate candy in heart boxes. He asked around and found out her favorite snack was the roasted peanuts sold a block away on the street from an old German man. He left her small warm bags at the bar before her shift started on Fridays to last her all weekend. She showed up to work one night and Max could barely contain himself. He handed her a large box with a knee-length fur coat inside.
He asked her out a few times, but she played demure, citing the rules of employees not fraternizing with employers.
"Aw Lena. I don't own this place…I work for the man who does. He pays your checks, not me."
"The other girls will be mad if they see me with you."
"Fuck 'em."
"I'll think about it."
He floated for a week after she said that. Like most men, he wanted a slut to fuck in private, but a good girl to woo in public.
A month later, Lena had a rough night with some rowdy patrons. Lower-level men of Ernie's syndicate. Stack had been out of town on business, and she missed interacting with him. His flirty nature kept her work nights fun, and they flew by fast. Without him, they dragged on for hours.
After Lena helped clean the bar area and counted money at closing, the numbers man slid over to Max and handed him a fifteen dollar win.
"Holy shit!" Max shouted.
He turned to Lena, his eyes shiny with joy.
"I'm taking you to Al's Diner for steak and eggs!"
Lena grabbed her coat and purse and walked out of the club with Max. Bernice joined them. They caught a cab to Al's Diner in a seedier area, but the food was delicious. Lena ate her fill and listened to Max make plans to buy his girlfriend new dresses, and a new tailored suit with nice dress shoes to replace the clodhoppers he wore outside of work. Bernice planned a rent party and Lena promised to spread the word and address to their shared apartment building. Max offered to pay for all the food at her party so she could sell dinner plates and keep all the proceeds.
After Max splurged on chocolate malts, she shared another cab ride with Bernice to her second-floor walk-up.
Another week passed, and Stack didn't come to the Sunset. Lena worried that the Italian mafia under Al Capone's orders gunned him down in the windy city or Bugs Moran and the Irish mob caught him slipping and threw him in Lake Michigan. Smoke huddled with Ernie and the other men in their crew, talking animatedly. She made her way around the bar counter. Tensions around the city had been thick among the immigrant groups, but colored folks kept on striving for better. Tempted to ask the other twin about his brother, she felt two muscular arms lift her up when she headed to the secret storage room to retrieve more spirits.
"Stack!"
Her heart triple-thumped in her chest like a train roaring down an uneven track. She turned and threw her arms around his neck instinctively.
"You missed me," he whispered in her ear.
The vibration of his voice along the delicate skin on her neck thrilled her. The breathiness in the shell of her ear heated the blood in her veins.
She kissed him.
Smashed her plump wanton lips across his fuller ones and slipped her tongue past the seam, tasting the strong whiskey on his breath. Their heads slanted for the proper angle to slide warm tongues together. His deep kisses sent love pulses straight down to her toes. Stack tongued her breathless hidden behind an alcove. He cradled her face before pulling away first.
"Damn. I ain't been kissed like that before," he drawled out in his delta accent.
She held his longing gaze in the yellow light of the hanging lamp that dangled above them. As tough as he was, his face looked so gentle and pure up close. Like a big ole puppy that just wanted to play fetch with her heart.
"Go out with me tonight," he asked.
She tickled the facial hair on his chin, then ran a slender finger down the part in his hair.
"How 'bout you go out with me?"
He grinned.
"Where?"
"It won't be nowhere high class like you're used to, but you'll have a good time. Promise."
He lunged for her mouth again, wrapping his beefy arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet.
"Oh, no wonder it's taking you so long to bring those bottles out," her co-worker Frank said.
Lena jerked away from Stack and grabbed the bottles she came for. She rushed past Frank, beaming all the way back to the bar.
Chapter 2 HERE.
A.N.:
Thanks for your patience! It's easier to do little chapters to buy me time to finish it. But y'all read so darn fast though!
Characters: Elijah Smoke and Elias Smoke (aka Smoke and Stack in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Preacher Boy/Sammie, Hoodoo Annie, Taiwo and Cash Smoke (OCs).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Mississippi Share Cropping Life, Death of a Child, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Smoke and Stack have become young teenagers and must contend with the strange goings on in Clarksdale, Mississippi that involve their father and the banjo he plays that can call forth dark magic. Shapeshifters and more tricksters still lurk in the delta around the Smoke family. Young love also blossoms for Elijah and Annie before his mother Taiwo urges them to leave for Chicago in order to keep them from harm.
Characters: Elijah Smoke and Elias Smoke (aka Smoke and Stack in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Taiwo and Cash Smoke (OC).
Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Yoruba Orishas, Mississippi Share Cropping Life, a Stillborn Death, Supernatural Elements, Slight Romance (if you squint), Some Violence, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.
Summary: Clarksdale, Mississippi. 1897. Taiwo Smoke recently gave birth to twin boys, Elijah and Elias. Haunted by lucid dreams foreshadowing danger for the babies, Taiwo hopes to use conjuring magic to protect her sons from the supernatural tricksters who want to snatch the children's uncertain futures away.
Word Count: 15.1K
"Come to your river, wash myself
I will come to your river, wash myself
I will come to your river, wash my soul again"
Ibeyi – "River"
Ibeji
Taiwo Smoke carried her babies low and heavy in the first five months of her pregnancy. Hummingbirds followed her around as she hung laundry all of November, fluttering their rapid wings near her ears before their winter migration. All signs that twin boys were coming in the early spring. During their first year of life, otherworldly tricksters soon plagued her days and nights, trying to steal her babies, Elijah and Elias.
The boys tore out her body with the force of the raging storm that rattled their newly built tenement cabin. Rainwater fell from the sky in an icy deluge as if the mighty Mississippi River had flipped upside down and emptied itself over their heads. It threatened to overflow the section of the Big Sunflower River near their home surrounded by a thick forest that tapered off into the cotton fields her family sharecropped.
Taiwo's husband Cash stood watch at the front window, plucking on his banjo, staying alert for signs if they needed to move to higher ground because of flooding. When they were courting, he used to brag that he could play his banjo and stop raindrops in mid-air if he wanted to. But they needed the rain this year after a long drought, and Cash played a soft song for her birthing time to soothe and coax the babies out.
Elijah came out first in a rush of warm birth waters, eyes closed and mouth silent. The midwife, his grandmother that shared the same name as his mother, had to make sure he was breathing because his entry into the world was much too calm for a rainy night. Elias, on the other hand…well, that one roared out of her aching vagina two minutes later, wailing and shaking his wet, blood-smeared limbs in protest. His eyes were all wide open and searching around for the culprit who interrupted his secure peace in the womb.
Wo-Ma, as the younger Taiwo called her mother, chuckled and rubbed the traces of blood and pale, greasy coating of the vernix caseosa into Elias's skin. They wouldn't wash the babies off until after twelve hours or more. Wo-Ma said it protected the baby's ruddy complexion, and they needed time to adjust away from their old home in the belly slowly as they entered the new one outside of it.
"This one here is Taiwo, in honor of all the Taiwos in our bloodline," Wo-Ma said. "And this loud baby over here…he is Kehinde."
The name Taiwo meant "the firstborn to taste the world" in the old language of Wo-Ma's ancestors. They came from some long gone and often mis-remembered part of West Africa where Orishas still wept for them. Passed down generation to generation that revered the numerous double births in their family as blessings from the divine twins—Ibeji—Taiwo's people always named the first twin that way. The second twin was always called Kehinde and nicknamed Meji. Wo-Ma said it meant "two" or maybe "second". Language of the old world faded, and so did accurate understandings.
Elias still fretted, refusing to latch onto her left nipple.
"He carry fire in his mouth," Wo-Ma said.
Taiwo nodded and glanced at Elijah. His nature, the opposite of his fiery younger brother, reflected the energy of the unseen depths of big water, lying cool and calm. Wo-Ma studied Elijah's features first and then Elias's.
"Mirrors of each other. Gonna be hard telling them apart until we know them real good. But I'm prepared," Wo-Ma said, walking over to a bureau.
She opened a drawer and pulled out two white, hand-sewn birthing gowns. One had red stitching of little stars; the other blue.
"I give them the colors to match their natures. Blue for Elijah…and red for Elias."
"Mama, how you have those colors ready before they were even born?"
"All twins in our family come out this way. One is always blue, and the other is always red. That's how it be."
"So you were the red one?"
"Sho'nuff. The way I was taught is…twins are divine gifts. They tell the world that you have abundance in store for you. Each twin is fire or water. I was the fire. When you and your twin sister were born together, I knew you were water."
Taiwo noticed the shadow of her husband shift the light of the kerosene lamps in the small bedroom. His tall, sinewy body filled up the room like an extra wall, but his eyes looked small and helpless in the glow of fireplace light from the next room. The lush hair on his head was as soft as fresh cotton bursting from its boll.
"You alright, Taiwo?" he asked.
She smiled. Wo-Ma had already cleaned and covered her lower half. The room smelled of afterbirth, sweat, and tears. Taiwo sat upright with both babies propped under each arm. Elijah suckled a heavy brown breast, and Elias kept fretting. She watched her husband's eyes water with his question.
"I'm fine Cash…we're all fine."
Cash let out a loud exhale and sat next to her on the lumpy bed to look at his boys. He leaned the banjo against the mattress. His fingers trembled as he touched the new life they created. He was terrified of losing Taiwo since her own twin sister, Kehinde, had passed away giving birth to a stillborn a year ago in a Philadelphia hospital.
She gazed at Cash's face that she went soft for at an informal dance where she hiked up her legs doing the cakewalk with him. He had bright, playful eyes and a seductive smile. A true ladies' man that sent hearts racing across three plantation properties. She hoped their babies would have his sun-burnt umber skin color and full lips. Their soft tufts of black hair laid flat on their tiny scalps, looking like her daddy Papa Will who probably worried about her back at her parent's old shack. He was half Choctaw and told her it was bad luck for a man to be around a woman giving birth. Wo-Ma said that was a lie. He feared watching her struggle to give birth to his first grandchildren. They were only the second generation of children to be born free in their family. Papa Will's own Choctaw grandfather owned him until the end of the Civil War when Freedmen slaves and Black mixed bloods could claim their own lives for themselves.
"Cash, I want you to say their names first. They hear you say it, and they'll grow up strong and handsome like you."
He grinned and his lips curled into a half moon. She glanced at their firstborn and Cash looked down at the baby.
"Hello Elijah Smoke…and hello to you too, Elias Smoke."
Wo-Ma lowered her eyes. The corners of her lips turned down with disappointment.
"Wo-Ma, me and Cash think the boys need Christian first names. Times are different and it might be hard for them to carry our old names without people looking at them funny."
"You mean white people," Wo-Ma huffed.
Cash lifted Elijah from her breast. The baby looked so tiny cradled in the nook of his arm. He grinned so hard that Taiwo could see the gums above his teeth.
"Elijah Taiwo Smoke and Elias Kehinde Smoke. They still carry the names Wo-Ma, just in a new order," Cash said.
Wo-Ma fixed her lips into a delicate smirk after hearing the boys still kept the naming tradition for twins.
"Lemme go fix you some soup. Don't worry none if the babies don't eat a lot right now. They may wanna sleep the next few hours," Wo-Mo said.
She lifted a bucket from the floor where she tossed their shared placenta. Taiwo would bury it in the yard once the rain stopped. Wo-Ma headed for their stove in the other room, humming to herself.
Cash lowered his head and kissed her on the forehead. He never displayed too much affection around her parents. Especially Wo-Ma. He was still nervous around his mother-in-law and the quiet Hoodoo power that resonated within her like a hidden torch.
"Tell the boys how we met," Taiwo said.
She loved listening to Cash tell stories. He could spin a tall tale like a spider weaving intricate patterns in the corners of their cabin or relay the juiciest gossip from town about the white folks as if you'd been there to watch it all play out. He'd keep a porch full of drunk men enraptured for hours, all animated a full of charisma. The tone and lilt of his voice gave her shivers whenever he sang songs to her in that romantic, delta-born cadence of his.
He glanced at Elias as he rocked Elijah.
"No, I think you should tell them. I want to hear how you see it."
"I might fall asleep in the middle of it," she said.
"Well, if you do that, I'll pick up the rest and finish it for them. Deal?"
She nodded.
"Elijah…Elias. You see that banjo? Your daddy used that thing to win me over."
Taiwo could see her reflection in Cash's soulful brown eyes.
"He saw me dancing in a ring of young ladies at a barn dance over on the Lexington plantation. Your daddy played his banjo so good to try and impress me. He could make those strings talk! Uncle Beatty played his harmonica…there was a jug player and Mr. Abe played an old washboard. The fiddler sounded so pretty mixing in with the banjo. Oh! I had so much fun that night. Dancing around a fire and relaxing after a hard harvest season. There was only one problem…"
Taiwo looked at her babies and wondered if it was okay to mention her dead twin sister. They would never meet her, and she hadn't been gone that long in order for Taiwo to say her name out loud without tears welling up. Elijah opened his eyes for the first time, and she took it as a sign that the boys wanted to know everything.
"The problem?" Cash said, urging her to continue.
"Your daddy thought I was my sister, Kehinde. See, he met her earlier that day at the merchant store. He invited her to come out and sees me dancing in the ring… thinks he knows me already!"
Cash chuckled, showing gums again. She warmed up to the telling.
"He asked me to cakewalk to the next song he wasn't playing the banjo for and we gets to kicking our feet and strutting with everyone. Ooh lawd, I had so much fun dancing with him! I took a break to get some water from the well at the back of the barn, and when I come back, he's dancing with my sister!"
"Honest mistake."
"We had on two different dresses!"
"I was looking at faces, not dresses."
"Mmhmm."
Elias opened his mouth and his tiny pink tongue flicked in and out. She offered him a nipple again, and this time he eagerly took it. His plump cheeks hallowed, trying to get the hang of sucking. Taiwo rested her fingers above her nipple, helping him secure his mouth on her. He gurgled and suckled while she gently stroked his hair.
"Boys, trust me," Cash said. "I couldn't tell them apart. They both had their hair out, all long and big, like giant black rain clouds all the way down to their waists. I ain't never seen that much hair on a woman in my life!"
Cash reached out and touched a thick rope of hair that hung down her side. Elijah squirmed on his father's arm impatiently, wanting the story to go on. He was learning Taiwo's voice outside of his womb water. Her husband put their firstborn against her other breast and watched boy boys feed from her. Fatigue settled on Taiwo's shoulders.
"Well, then…I marched myself right up to him and said, 'Now you after my sister?' If y'all coulda seen his face…my word!"
"I honestly ain't know there were two of 'em. I just thought it was strange how your Aunt Meji could dance so good one minute, and then the next time, she got two left feet and lost all sense of rhythm."
"Your auntie was a terrible dancer. We looked the same…talked the same…even walked the same…but that girl could never catch a beat to save her life!"
Taiwo laughed, and it was the first time she'd laughed with a memory of her sister. Progress.
"After we cleared up the confusion and Meji stopped fussing with Cash, I danced the rest of the night with him. The only time he let go of my hand was when he had to play the banjo, but he kept his eyes on me, studying me hard so he'd know he had the right one. Now your auntie, she stayed upset for a couple of months until she found her own beau and ran off to Philadelphia. Ain't a finer man around than Cash Smoke. I loves every part of him."
Cash darted his eyes away, embarrassed by her words. She never understood why he acted so bashful about her bragging on him. He truly was a fine catch. Even though he was married to her nearing three years, she still caught other women eyeing him, wondering if he was a tip toeing man. He wasn't. Although he'd still drink a bit of corn liquor with his friends, hoot and holler at celebratory gatherings, he was always straight and narrow with her. His personality often outshined his good looks, and she couldn't get mad at other women for desiring that type of heady concoction. Hell, even men wanted to be around him all the time. Something about his nature attracted people to him.
The day she knew for sure she was making babies, she cried and walked all the way to the cotton field to tell him. He shouted so loud and bragged all nine months about having children coming from her.
A lot of men tried to court Papa Will's girls. She and Meji were hard workers, sturdy in the hips, and as pretty as the dusk at twilight. Only Cash stole her heart. The way he played his banjo with tender care showed her how he would be with her.
"That's the long and short of it. Been a good three years for us. The rains have come back. We have this new cabin your daddy built for us. Now that we have you two, I see only more wonderful things coming our way."
Wo-Ma swept back in, carrying a steaming bowl of chicken and potato soup. Cash stood from the bed.
"I'ma go on over to see Papa Will. Let him know the boys got here safe and you're resting," Cash said.
He lifted a coat and his dark brown hat from a chair in the bedroom. Glancing back at her, his eyes softened.
"You look real pretty feeding them like that, Taiwo. I'm mighty proud to be your husband."
Wo-Ma grinned and sat at the edge of the bed, holding out a spoon to her filled with chunks of chicken and broth.
"Be careful, Cash," she said.
He tipped his hat to her and set off into the rain.
Taiwo's tired body settled into a deep and restless slumber after eating the soup. She flailed in the bed and Cash had to wake her up because she kept hitting his arm in her sleep, waking him.
"Taiwo, you're dreaming," he said, shaking her awake.
His dusky eyes held her gaze in the kerosene light. The babies were in the main room with Wo-Ma, where the fire still crackled near the hearth where they slept to keep warm.
The ends of Cash's hair still held the corkscrew curls from the rain when he went to see her father hours ago. Wo-Ma hustled into the room wearing her long white flannel nightgown.
"Taiwo? Are you in pain?" Wo-Ma asked.
"No, Mama. I had a dream. A bad one."
Wo-Ma crept closer to Taiwo's left side of the bed and touched her forehead.
"What did you dream about that has you so upset?"
"Upset?"
Wo-Ma wiped tears from Taiwo's cheeks.
"Quickly child, before it fades," Wo-Ma said.
Taiwo touched her face, surprised to feel wet teardrops pooling under her lids. She closed her eyes and the remnants of the dream came into tight focus, like she was still bound to it by tenuous silvery threads.
"I'm near the old Indian mounds…and I can hear the rushing of water coming close…but I caint see it none. It smells wet all around me…there's no sunlight, but there ain't really no darkness either…just gray…all gray, and I see a tall man. No…not a man…wait…it's a man, but he's like a rabbit, Mama. Head of a jackrabbit, all furry…all over, but he stands tall on two dark furry legs like a man. Right next to him is a bear…large and black and he's standing upright, too…with eyes like a man looking right at me…they comin' toward me and I caint move, Mama…I caint move…!"
Cash hugged her tight against him and rocked her in safety and comfort. The heat from his body reassured her that the dream world had vanished. But she could still smell the scent of icy river water in her nostrils.
"What it mean, Wo-Ma?" Cash asked.
Wo-Ma placed her hands on her thighs.
"It means we gotta keep an eye on them twins. She done seen Brother Rabbit and Brother Bear. They only come when we need protectin'."
Wo-Ma rubbed her brow and sighed.
"Keep them babies indoors until I put things together for 'em, hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Cash said.
Taiwo touched her breasts through her gown.
"Babies are ready to eat," Taiwo said.
Elias's loud squall echoed in the next room.
Wo-Ma brought them back into the bedroom. Taiwo fed them and rested her head on Cash's shoulder. But Wo-Ma paced all that night burning small bundles of sweetgrass in the fire until the rain finally stopped.
2. Meji
Taiwo used her long, nimble, chestnut brown fingers to wrap Elijah in a snug baby blanket. She swiped his forehead and hair with a pungent golden oil she made for her sons.
"This one here gonna be a charmer, Taiwo."
Taiwo's best friend, Mavis, held Elias in her arms. The little brown bundle squirmed in Mavis's hands. After three months, Elias had become the more attention-seeking of the two boys. The loudest crier, and prone to seeking her breast milk again, even when his belly was bloated and hanging out of his baby shirts, Elias could never settle down like his brother and give her one moment of rest without fussing to be picked up and played with. Elijah often scrunched his face up whenever Elias's antics annoyed him. Despite being identical in every way, Taiwo only needed to glance at their impish eyes to know who was who.
"Here, give him to me," Taiwo said.
Mavis handed the boy over and Taiwo clucked her tongue to catch his attention. Big, shiny brown eyes peered up at her. Elijah rested cozily next to her hip on the bed, bundled up tight from the morning draft sneaking under the door of their cabin.
Taiwo smeared more prayed over cotton-seed oil steeped with marigold flowers across the second born baby, and wrapped him carefully. She placed him next to Elijah in their crib.
"Hopefully, they'll go to sleep soon. Call me if they get hungry," Taiwo said.
Mavis rubbed the protruding bulge in her expectant belly.
"Girl, I don't know how you handle two at a time. Having one soon is making me nervous for all you gotta do for 'em," Mavis said.
"You get used to it."
Taiwo went back outside. The clean clothes and sheets she hung up earlier to dry flapped gently in the breeze. Two neighbor's children she looked after while their parents worked the fields lingered near the side of the cabin playing with ants. The June sun hung above them in a pale blue sky with no cloud in sight.
A giant black pot boiled above a fire pit. Filled with white sheets, she stirred it with a large smooth stick. Wo-Ma taught Taiwo how to make money cleaning clothes for the white townsfolk. She had plenty of customers to keep her busy during the week while she babysat, too. She hired Mavis to watch over the twins so she could keep working while Cash tended to the fields. They were saving to buy a plot of land for themselves, and that would only happen if Taiwo kept working. White women in town hired out for everything: childcare, cooking and cleaning, plus their laundry. But they still had the nerve to call Black folks lazy good-for-nothings while they sat indoors pampered. Even the white tenement farmers near them acted like they were better than negroes while they walked around barefoot and unclean with lice in their stringy hair and bedbugs in their mangy clothes.
Wo-Ma said the more well-off whites were no different with uncleanliness, hence the boiling of their laundry to make sure nothing jumped onto Taiwo's clothes. She always greased her scalp down with added cornrows and a hair covering to prevent lice from trying to latch onto her hair.
All morning she boiled clothes, scrubbed them in a tub near the creek water before rinsing them clean, and toting them back in a wagon to the cabin for line hanging. In between those chores, she fed her babies, and shared an early hearty lunch with the older children and Mavis.
While packing up a hot lunch of stew and rice for her husband, she debated about bringing the boys with her in the wagon after they finally went to sleep.
"The babies are sleeping Taiwo, don't wake them. It took me a long time to get Elias quiet," Mavis groaned.
Cash loved lunch visits with his sons, but Mavis was right. If Elias slept well for the next two hours, she could spend some time with her husband alone. Maybe even sneak in some kisses.
She took a deep breath and left them behind. The grandmother of the young girl and boy she cared for came to get them early after cleaning a home in town all morning. Taiwo grinned, carrying a small basket of the stew and rice with leftover bread baked the night before. A jug of cool well water tapped against her thigh. She changed into a pretty dress for Cash, and took off the scarf on her head, letting the four long cornrows bounce on her back. Her body healed enough so they could be frisky again if they wanted. She missed grown up time with her husband.
Taiwo headed toward the far end of the cotton field where she could see her husband in the distance. Cash worked their large plot, weeding and tilling between the rows. It would be a plentiful harvest that year, according to him.
"My stomach just started grumbling," Cash said.
He tossed down his hoe and kissed Taiwo on her lips. She handed him the fresh jug of cool water and he guzzled it down, wetting his lips.
"You didn't bring my babies?"
"They sleep."
Cash's eyes grew wide with surprise.
"What?"
"Mavis somehow got them down in their bed. They look so cute. Big chubby cheeks."
He looked inside the basket.
"There was some stew left? I thought for 'sho Mavis would eat it all up."
"I hid it from her before she could."
They sat on a blanket under a tree where Cash rested throughout the day from the heat. Taiwo watched him eat and lick his fingers, dripping with brown gravy meat. He rinsed off his hands with some of the jug water.
"I'm making fried chicken tonight," she said.
"Oh, yeah?"
"I cooked okra, and I made some cornbread."
"In between all that washing?"
"Yeah. The Claytons are gone this week visiting relatives, so that freed me up with less work today. I'll have a lot to do next week when they return…that'll make up for the loss."
"I'm renting out Brownie Boy to Pete next month for some late planting. His mule died this morning. He can't afford a new one, so I offered Brownie."
"As long as it's Brownie and not Esther."
"Nah, Esther ain't going nowhere. She only likes me and won't pull a plow for anyone else."
"People thinkin' we're rich now since we got Esther."
"It's because of them twins bringing good luck. Just think…a month ago Jake Mathis went on to glory, leaving us Esther, them chickens, and five pigs. Man turns one hundred years old the same day our sons are born and promised to give us all he owned after seeing them one time. Ain't that somethin'?"
Cash stared at her.
"I like this dress on you."
He fingered a button on the top part, admiring the yellow color, and glanced over her shoulder to look at their home further away.
"We're by ourselves," he said.
His seductive eyes drank in the new shape of her figure the babies gave her. He kissed her lips softly and waited for her to allow more to happen. She encouraged it with a slip of the tongue in his mouth and they remembered the touches and sighs that led to them having babies in the first place.
They pulled off their clothes and made love under the shade tree.
Taiwo ignored the discomfort of the hard earth pressing into her back. The strain of arousal lining Cash's face stoked her passion. His dick was harder than the wooden stick she used to stir laundry. He moved above her like a desperate man in need of release.
"Taiwo," he grunted, thrusting to the hilt.
To lessen the chance of impregnating her again too soon, Cash pulled out when he reached his brink. Taiwo scrambled to her knees before he ejaculated on her stomach.
"Whatchu doin'?" he yelped.
She held his erection by the root, took a deep breath, and put her mouth on the wide head. Cash held still and gasped loud enough to arouse her more. She wasn't concerned with her own orgasm. Her focus was on pleasing her husband with something new in her repertoire.
Mavis told her all month about the rumors of a woman named Ruby Lee who blew into Clarksdale stealing husbands. She was known to do nasty things for money that had men far and wide sneaking around with her. Taiwo ran into her once in passing after a church service where she noticed the menfolk cutting eyes at the woman, and she at them. She had voluptuous breasts like Taiwo, but lacked the pretty face to seem like a threat to most women. But she had a sway in her wide hips and fleshy lips with a penchant for what Mavis gossiped about: sucking dick.
The filthiness intrigued Taiwo. Putting a mouth on a man's privates was scandalous. Unchristian-like. She imagined Ruby Lee sitting in a church pew with a pungent whore's breath full of semen. Nasty work.
However…
Listening to Mavis screech about Ruby Lee riding on a horse-drawn wagon throughout Clarksdale selling her granny's laundry soap and hair grease forced Taiwo to turn her attention to Cash. He hung out with the men who enjoyed Ruby Lee's favors. Had he been tempted to see what all the fuss was about? Last Friday, after delivering laundry with the mule Esther on her own wagon cart, Taiwo noticed a wrapped chunk of laundry soap left on her kitchen table. She made her own laundry soap and questioned Cash immediately.
"Oh, that soap gal… Ruby Lee… left free samples. I told her you made your own, but she insisted I try hers," Cash said off-handedly while sharpening their house knives with leather.
"She insisted?"
"She gave it to me and I said 'thank you' and put it on the table for you."
"And then?"
"And then what?"
Cash's eyebrows fixed themselves into two diagonal black lines on his forehead.
"Did she come in the house?"
"For what?"
His tone eased the height of her up-raised shoulders. He genuinely looked perplexed.
"To see the babies or something?"
"The boys were asleep. I don't know her well enough to let her in anyway."
Taiwo's relief tampered down her suspicions. But the woman did come to their home without her there. Brazen.
Ruby's snooping around Taiwo's hearth planted a defensive seed in her gut. Cash was the best looking man in Clarksdale, Black, white, or Native. Those extra pigs, chickens, and two mules probably made him appear enticing and flush with extra cash to toss around. Plus…men were weak.
Ruby could catch Cash at a gathering on a porch somewhere where Taiwo wasn't around. If he were playing his banjo at a jump-up, drinking a little bit, and not rushing to come home, a wily woman could take advantage. She tried something to ensure Cash would have no desire to stray.
The taste of his dick in her mouth mixed with her natural lubrication created an intoxicating sense of power. Cash groaned deep in his throat and she lowered her lips further, sliding them down the slick girth as she whimpered, adjusting to a male organ moving against her tongue.
She went down too far and gagged when his tip hit the back of her throat. Fighting her gag reflex, Taiwo raised back up, and went down again, making sure not to go too far. He hissed when she grazed dick skin with her teeth. She pressed her lips tighter around his penis and bobbed her head as she worked her neck, hoping that was the correct form.
"Taiwo…where you learn that girl? Huh? Keep sucking…keep sucking!"
Pleasure rippled all across her skin and her pussy throbbed, enjoying his pants and pleads to keep going. He shouted God's name and her mouth filled with his release, the blast of warm semen coursing down her throat.
She swallowed every drop.
Removing her mouth from his dick, she looked up at his face. Cash's eyes had narrowed and his brows furrowed looking down at her. Still panting, he stared at his dick as it turned soft in his hand.
"You like that?" she asked.
He threw his head back and looked up at the tree canopy. Laughter fell from his lips.
"Yes," he said.
He touched his chest.
"My heart is beating so fast right now," he said.
A coy smile lifted her lips. She pulled her clothes back on.
"Wayment…it's your turn. I gotta make you feel good, too," he insisted.
"Later," she said. "I have to go check on the babies. I was gone longer than I planned."
Cash reached for her arms and pulled her in close.
"Later, huh?"
She nodded. Reaching for the jug, Taiwo discreetly sipped water and rinsed her mouth. The taste of semen was something she'd have to get used to.
Taiwo meandered back to the cabin carrying her basket and jug.
The hairs on her arms rose, and she stopped walking. She turned to face the direction she came from, and the air crackled with a charge of energy that rushed across her entire body from head to toe, giving her the sensation of being folded inside out like the laundry she cleaned all day. The surrounding colors became saturated and objects in her sight came into sharp focus, as if she stepped into a freshly painted landscape. Her tongue felt thick and burdensome in her mouth. A scent of lavender perfume crinkled her nose, and the familiarity pumped the blood faster in her veins.
Kehinde.
That's what the air smelled like for seven seconds: Kehinde's perfume that her lover bought for her before he swept her off to the east, and an early grave. The odor permeated her dreams the last couple of weeks and it didn't startle her like a portent of grave circumstances in her sleep like it did now. In dreams, anything was possible. But in a waking state? No one else wore that particular scent of perfume. It smelled of sickly sweet foreboding. Only Kehinde—
Taiwo glimpsed a floating blue orb of bright light darting past her cabin. She dropped her basket and jug on the uneven earth and dashed for her home.
Coming upon the outhouse, the wooden door flung open, and Mavis stepped out. She rinsed her hands with a bucket of water left by the outhouse door and shook the excess away.
"Taiwo?"
Mavis stopped shaking her hands and stared at Taiwo.
"You done feeding them already?"
Taiwo ran around the side of the house, searching for signs of flickering blue amidst the flapping of cloud white sheets. Mavis approached her.
"You alright?"
Taiwo touched her arms. The hairs there still reached for the sky.
"I came back from being with Cash…"
Mavis's lips pressed into a line and she glanced back toward the rows of cotton plants.
"Came back?" Mavis huffed, "But you were inside a minute ago, feeding Elijah—"
The pitiful, wailing sounds of her babies pierced the air. Taiwo rushed past Mavis and ran up the porch steps. Bursting through the door, she noticed her rocking chair still moving near the open window. Elijah was face-down on the floor wearing only his cloth diaper, struggling to lift his weak neck up with a tight face bathed in hot tears.
"Why is he on the floor?!" Taiwo shouted.
"I didn't leave him there. You fed him in the chair and told me to take a break. I just went to relieve myself!"
"Mavis…I came back from the field! I didn't…"
Mavis's eyes were round and wide. Her small mouth twitched, and she wrung her hands. A creeping dread cooled Taiwo's forehead. She lifted Elijah and put him back in the crib next to Elias.
"This heat must be getting to me. I probably should rest…"
She touched the baby all over his exposed skin, checking for bruising or itchy, red bites from pesky chiggers that irritated everyone during the summer. He looked fine, and she gave him kisses to soothe his fright at being left unattended on the hard floor. Her fingers trembled when she sniffed lavender on his hair and cheeks. She crossed the room to dig into a coffee can hidden behind a small bag of flour above her stove. Pulling out Mavis's pay for the week, she handed over three coins, and took a deep inhale to calm her nerves in front of her friend.
"I'm gonna stay inside and sleep with the boys. You can go on home now. I'll be fine until Cash comes back."
"What about the laundry? Want me to take it down later?"
"I can do that. Go on home…and thank you for watching them today. Appreciate it."
"Is something wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
"A little under the weather. I'll be fine after I sleep a bit."
Mavis looked unsure, but she patted Taiwo's arm and left the cabin.
Taiwo fetched a clean cloth and used it to wipe down the twins with marigold oil all over. She grabbed some braided sweetgrass from above the fireplace mantle that rested in front of the small wood-carved Ibeji figures Wo-Ma gave her after the babies were born.
They rested snug inside a brown and orange beaded pouch. One identical figure represented Elijah and the other Elias, and as long as she kept those totems together safe, the old spirits from Africa would intercede on her children's behalf if needed. Using a match to burn the sweetgrass, she smudged the totems and the entire interior before quickly moving outside with the burning plant bundle. She circled the cabin three times, waving the smoke around, creating a sacred barrier.
Glancing around, she checked for any signs of her twin sister. The last time she laid eyes on her, Kehinde had worn a pretty golden yellow dress with her hair pinned back from her face. She glowed with love in her eyes, and Taiwo missed her dearly. Her twin flitted in and out of her lucid dreams, a pleasant memory occasionally since she gave birth. It made Taiwo feel like she could visit with her sister from time to time, and that their bond had never truly broken, even in death.
She allowed the last of the sweetgrass to burn up on the ground in front of the bottom step of the porch. Instead of sleeping, she ironed sheets and dresses, and when she needed to urinate, she skipped the outhouse and pissed in a chamber pot, dumping the liquid on the ground in a line from the porch.
When the last of the laundry finally dried, she put the babies in her small wagon and kept them right next to her as she pulled down her last items of the day, along with clean diapers. She remained vigilant as the sunlight faded. Frying the chicken Mavis plucked for her, Taiwo prepared dinner and had food on the table right as Cash dragged in, stretching his back and rubbing his stomach.
They ate together, and he noticed her tense stance between bites of cornbread and fried okra.
"What's troubling you?"
Taiwo swallowed her food.
"Tired, that's all. So hot today."
"No hotter than it was yesterday. The boys give you trouble?'
"No. They've been good. Elijah wasn't too hungry for his dinner."
"What about Elias?"
"His usual self. Want more?"
Cash pushed back his plate.
"Nah, I'm full. Good meal, thank you, honey."
Taiwo grinned. She stood to collect their empty plates, but Cash gathered them up and washed them for her.
"Go get some sleep early. I'll put everything away and look after the boys."
She kissed his cheek and changed into an old slip for her night clothes. Her breasts ached from Elijah not feeding from her and she rubbed her nipples, wondering if she should try to feed him again. Cash walked back into the room carrying their eldest.
"He's moving around like he's hungry," he said.
Taiwo took Elijah in her arms and sat on the edge of the bed, revealing a breast for him to take. He latched onto her and suckled for a few seconds before he pulled away, bursting into tears. His face turned a raging red-brown.
"What's wrong, huh Elijah? You're hungry. Come on and eat."
Elijah turned his face away from her breast and Taiwo checked his diaper to see if it needed changing before bed. He was clean and dry. Cash came back into the room and looked at their son.
"That cry doesn't sound so good."
"He won't eat, but he's hungry."
"Is he sick?"
"He doesn't have a fever…"
Taiwo cooed and gently rocked him, but Elijah would not stop wailing. She stood and walked around their bedroom, giving comforting words. He kept screaming.
"Elijah, please…" she said.
Elias heard his brother and started fussing in the crib. Cash looked after him and Taiwo clucked her tongue, hummed, and bounced him against her breasts. Nothing worked. It was too soon for teething. She stuck a finger in his mouth and rubbed around his gums. He started sucking on her finger, thinking something was on it, and then erupting into earsplitting shrieks.
She took him into the main room and held him near his brother who stared at him with enormous eyes from Cash's arms. The moment Elias heard another shriek from Elijah, he joined right in.
"Let's put them in the crib together," she suggested.
Side by side, the boys continued squawking like frightened birds in a nest. Cash brought out his banjo and started plucking a lullaby for them. Elias jammed his tiny lips together and whimpered, his discomfort broken by the sounds of his daddy playing music for them. Elijah kept screaming.
And then he stopped.
Tears like dewdrops shined on his heated brown cheeks, and his wet eyes looked past her to the corner where he finally cracked a smile, the pitiful whimpers no longer escaping his mouth. His face became bathed in a radiating blue light that danced across his plump cheeks. Cash didn't see it at all.
Taiwo's body thrummed with the sense of being folded again, like someone squeezing her body in on itself. Elijah laughed, but he didn't laugh for Taiwo. He laughed for the entity that joined them in the room. Someone who stepped through the void when they shouldn't have.
The scent of lavender pervaded the front room.
"You smell that?" Cash asked, sniffing the air.
"Yes."
"Like flowers."
"Lavender."
"Yeah, lavender."
Taiwo reached out and grabbed Cash's shirt sleeve, stopping him from moving.
"Keep playing music for them," she whispered.
She focused her eyes on the Ibeji above the fireplace.
"Sing to them."
The tone of her voice prompted Cash to play a soft tune, and he sang about summer sunshine and marigolds. While he entertained their twin sons, she turned to face her own twin.
Mustering the poise and strength of Wo-Ma, Taiwo uttered a spell of protection that she learned as a child to ward off unwanted ghosts, because that was needed as she locked eyes with Kehinde standing in the corner. Her sister looked as alive as the last day of her stay in Mississippi. A blue ring of ghostly flames surrounded her form. The banjo music sounded like it was in a vacuum and far away as Taiwo stepped into a tear of the ancestral realm. No warmth emitted from the blue fire, only a bone-deep cold that divided the living from the dead.
"You shouldn't be here, Kehinde. Not like this. Dreams are one thing, but here? In the world like this?"
A ripple in the ghostly fire made Kehinde look fuzzy before she snapped back to full clarity. The dead twin stared past Taiwo and fixed her gaze on the crib.
"I lost my baby," Kehinde gasped, reaching her arms out, not for her sister, but for the boys.
"I know, and I'm sorry, sister. We miss you, but you caint be here."
"You have two…lemme have one of them. I'll take care of him. See? He wants me…he cried for me, not you."
Kehinde touched her left breast, and milk leaked from it, wetting the ghostly dress.
"He so cute, and quiet and he took my milk. He knows me now—"
"Meji, you must go."
Taiwo clutched at her mojo bag around her neck with her left hand, and outstretched her right, pointing three fingers at Kehinde's face.
"Ibeji will keep us from all harm…they will watch over our lives and your comings and goings both now and forevermore…"
"Taiwo, please, let me have him. You can keep Elias…"
The brightness of Kehinde's skin dulled, the crisp outline of her form slowly faded as Taiwo stepped forward holding tight to her mojo, and her fear of unwanted spirits. Her voice rang out true and clear. Meji wasn't welcome there. By the time she reached the exact spot where Kehinde once stood, her sister had vanished back into the void, and Taiwo's skin stopped prickling with gooseflesh. The tear in the void had sealed back up.
"Thank you…thank you…" she murmured.
Turning back to Cash, she listened to him finish his song. Both boys had calmed down. She joined her husband at the crib and looked down at two peaceful little faces.
Taiwo sought her mother the next morning, and Wo-ma gave her a block of indigo, some milk, and a bag of lemons. She spent the morning mixing the items into a thick paint of haint blue that she brushed all over the front door and the porch steps. After the first coat dried, she painted another layer to keep Kehinde out of her house.
Wo-Ma didn't act surprised when Taiwo told her about Meji. She seemed prepared for it actually, like she'd been waiting for the day to come and had the supplies ready just in case. Cash didn't question her about it, accepting that she and her people did different things because of Hoodoo. No one spoke about it out loud, and he knew that people sometimes visited Wo-Ma for "special" talks in her home with Papa Will. Even her father went off to spend time among the old Choctaw Indian mounds to commune with nature and his own people's spirits.
She didn't tell Cash about seeing her sister, and her prayer the previous night sounded no different from the ones he heard her saying on any occasion when she sought help for a problem. In his mind, he probably thought she was praying for Elijah to get better.
Unfortunately, he didn't.
Day by day, he grew weaker from not taking her milk. After two days, his body became thinner than his brother's and she asked for Wo-Ma's help. By the fifth day, his diapers didn't fit. The sweetgrass, haint blue paint, and spells worked to keep Kehinde out of the house, but it didn't stop her connection to Elijah who didn't even want Taiwo picking him up anymore, his fretful eyes searching for an elusive new mother who abandoned him to the mundane world. Wo-Ma moved back into the house and gave her various spells to cast for her son, but nothing worked on their side of the veil. Elias thrived, getting fatter and happy while Elijah withered down to where she could see gauntness in his cheeks. They tried feeding him cow's milk diluted with water and mixed with honey. The boy ate nothing and didn't want to be touched by people. He cried during his diaper changes and cried whenever he looked around the room for Meji.
"He tasted your sister's milk. She created a bond with him I caint break just yet," Wo-Ma said.
Taiwo's mother sat in the kitchen area and cried, unhappy that she couldn't save her grandchild from her own dead daughter. Seven long, worrisome days had passed.
Cash pretended to stay strong, but each morning he hugged Elijah as if he wouldn't see him again by his noon lunch. He spent most days rushing back and forth from the cabin and the field, barely getting any work done to sustain them as a family. Taiwo told her laundry customers that she was too sick to wash clothes. She worried about their finances dwindling. Papa Will even broached the topic with Wo-Ma of preparing for another death in their family if Elijah didn't get better. He thought she didn't hear him as they whispered in the front room while she rested in her bedroom. Wo-Ma scolded him for saying it and stayed up every night on the front porch meditating and praying. She threw conjuring bones on the kitchen table every morning, seeking answers until she finally found one.
When Taiwo thought she had to give up hope, Wo-Ma took her and the babies outside, washing them thoroughly in a tub. She made them wear all white and packed them into her mule cart and carried them off to her shack. On her kitchen table, unwrapped and hardened from two decades of burial, sat a gray mass.
"That right there wrapped you and Meji in me before your birth. We must take it to your daddy's people…their sacred place where the power is stronger. I'll break the bond there," Wo-Ma said.
She took out her pouch of bones and threw them on her table next to the dried placenta of Taiwo and Kehinde. Pieces of rabbit, raccoon, and chicken bones scattered in a wide arc. Wo-Ma read the bones and Papa Will burned sweetgrass to maintain a connection to the spirit world his wife tried to pick a message from.
"Come, we have to go now. We'll go on the river and not by foot. Meji caint cross the water to get him out in the open before we reach the mounds," Wo-Ma said.
Papa Will tucked some tobacco inside his shirt wrapped in an old kerchief. They left Cash behind to watch over the home he built for Taiwo, and ventured to the river with the babies to catch a flatboat that would carry them upriver to the Indian mounds.
Elias fussed inside the basket Taiwo used for their travel bed while Elijah's gaunt face remained quiet. They arrived at an empty landing in the late afternoon. Papa Will paid a wagon driver passing by to carry them in the sweltering sun a little ways ahead. They soon trudged through a dense meadow where a male Choctaw elder with a weathered, light brown face stood watch, guarding the area. Papa Will passed on the tobacco and a few coins. The elder accepted the offering without a word and led them toward where they wanted to be, like some clandestine meeting in broad daylight. Along the edge of a row of tall, poplar trees, three Choctaw women tended to pulling weeds in a clearing. A sizeable mound of green covered earth rose out of the ground like the curve of a whale's back surrounded by smaller mounds the size of hitched wagons at cardinal points.
Papa Will spoke to the women privately, and they accepted something from him that Taiwo couldn't see and left the clearing silently.
"Feel it?" Wo-Ma asked.
"Yes," Taiwo answered in a reverent tone.
The earth hummed with a sound that no human could hear, but Taiwo and Wo-Ma sensed it on their skin like subtle vibrations itching the flesh. It nipped at them in waves.
"There is a mighty power here. The old ones in this place say the door is here. We need them to close it for her," Wo-Ma whispered. "Put the basket there and keep close to your babies."
Taiwo set the basket upon the soft earth and Papa Will lingered near it, his watchful eyes stuck on the largest mound.
Wo-Ma prayed out loud for a long, long time. Her voice carried a beseeching quality, and it echoed across the mounds until she began speaking in tongues, the language of spirits. Papa Will burnt sweetgrass and left the smoking bundle two feet in front of Wo-Ma. Eventually, Wo-Ma's incoherent speech slowed down and sounded like plain English again. She pointed to the twins.
"See here…these my grandbabies. Freshly born and new to this world. My dead daughter, Kehinde, has a hold on one of them and she won't let him go. He's dying. Hear me? Little Elijah. I need your help. You my husband's people…his kinfolk. Will, he's Chahta Lusa…Black Choctaw. His papa come from you…tell them, Will."
Papa Will, who didn't like to talk much, shuffled forward and pulled off his hat. He held Wo-Ma's trembling hand.
"She's tellin' the truth. Aia-ali. I am from this place…this…yakni."
"Show 'em, honey," Wo-Ma said.
Papa Will pulled out a small paring blade and cut his palm open. He knelt down and squeezed his hand in a fist, letting his blood drip onto the ground. The brown dirt absorbed the scarlet liquid until there was nothing visible. Taiwo handed her father a handkerchief, and he bound up the wound.
"See? He yours, and these babies here are yours, too. Meji…Kehinde, she yours…Taiwo is yours. But Kehinde won't leave Elijah be. I need to bury her spirit here, where the barrier is stronger."
Wo-Ma gestured for Taiwo to show Elijah. Her oldest son hovered on the precipice of a cold, untimely death, and her hot tears fell on his face. She wiped them away.
"Wo-Ma, look," Taiwo said.
A flickering blue ball of light swooped down from up high and hovered in front of Wo-Ma. It was the size of Taiwo's good china plate that she cherished, passed down from her great-grandmother.
Papa Will lifted Elias and crept away with him as they had planned, to keep the spirits from mistaking him for Elijah. He left Taiwo to guard her firstborn. She smothered him down in marigold oil and herbs, his sickly expression worrying her more.
A disembodied voice called out from the blue orb that floated before them like a small alien sun.
"Wo-Ma…please…let me have Elijah…"
"No. I love you, Meji, but he caint go to where you are. That's not fair to your sister. You can watch over him, but you caint keep him for yourself. He don't belong to you. I gotta plant you here because you're killing him."
Taiwo held her son against her chest, feeling a new flow of tears running down her cheeks.
"This my baby. He came outta me…you caint just take him Meji!"
The shriek of her voice made Wo-Ma wince and Elijah wiggled in her arms from the sound of pent up rage.
"I want him!" Meji screamed.
The orb of watery blue light surrounded Elijah and ripped him out of Taiwo's arms. The boy's weak body floated out of reach above Taiwo's head. She jumped up several times, trying to grab him.
Wo-Ma settled onto her knees quickly and dug a hole in the ground with her bare hands. She unwrapped the placenta bundle, cut it in half with her own small knife from her conjure bag hooked to her dress belt, and buried it carefully, smoothing the dirt above it. The conjuring spell she spoke with a ferocious tone frightened Taiwo.
The orb froze in place, and Elijah stayed suspended in the air.
"Wo-Ma, noooo!" Kehinde shrieked, her voice shattering the peace of the woods and scaring birds out of the trees.
"Stay…behind the veil…you will not come for Elijah or anyone else again!" Wo-Ma shouted.
She poured an oil from her work bag over the small mound of dirt that held the placenta half that belonged to Kehinde.
A crack of thunder rattled the sunny sky above them and a silvery lightning flash from out of nowhere slashed across the glowing blue ball. Elijah fell down into Taiwo's outstretched arms. He hollered like he had seen too much for his itty bitty age and Taiwo offered him a nipple and he latched on to it and sucked away, his chipmunk cheeks puffing in and out. She cried out with joy.
The pungent odor of sizzling ozone drenched the air and Taiwo witnessed the rippling of the scenery in front of her, as if she'd taken her hand and swiped it across water and the reflection there spiraled out in layers then snapped back to normal like the sudden slamming of a heavy door.
"Don't move yet. We don't want to attract others who may have slipped through," Wo-Ma warned.
Silent and immobile like statues, they remained in place until the scent of the otherworldly had passed.
"Will she stay gone, Wo-Ma?" Taiwo asked.
Wo-Ma nodded confidently.
Taiwo carried Elijah against her breast and fed him all the way back home.
Cash met them at their front door and cried like a baby himself once the healthy color returned to Elijah's cheeks. They all breathed easy, listening to the squalling noise he did, announcing he wanted more milk to drink down into his undernourished belly. Cash kissed Taiwo all over her face and held his son close between feedings.
When they placed the well-fed boys in their bed together, the little ones faced each other and gurgled peacefully.
But Taiwo kept painting the front door and the porch steps with fresh coats of haint blue every two weeks. She kept them coated down in protective oils, too.
Just in case.
3. The Watermelon Man
At six months old, the twins were fat, heavy, and the most adorable babies in Clarksdale. Taiwo was a proud momma and Cash a proud papa.
Hard work during harvest season and nursing hungry boys kept her days hectic. But Cash had her busy in the evening too, wanting to touch and kiss her as much as possible. The babies learned to sleep through the night, so that meant Taiwo had time to be up under her husband hot and sweaty like they did before they had the boys.
Cash started dreaming about opening a juke joint. Taiwo would've preferred a small mercantile attached to their cabin, but Cash doubted they could rely on a steady harvest to support a store's needed goods and buy property at the same time. He also thought it unwise to compete with the white landowner, who also ran his own mercantile operation that kept sharecroppers in debt through overpriced goods and freely given, unrepayable credit.
Taiwo didn't want to wash clothes anymore. She desired more time with her babies and friends.
"You'll have plenty of friends if we put up a juke. Corn liquor is cheap and easy to make and free money is better than borrowed money from a cracka bank," he said.
She worried about the stigma.
Cash's family already hated that he married a Hoodoo woman from a long line of Hoodoo women. His people were stalwart Christians that looked down on her already. Opening a juke would make it seem like she was leading him further astray from the Lord.
No one in his family gave her credit for keeping Cash on the straight and narrow. Before he married her, he'd been on the run for some nefarious dealings in New Orleans. Rumors said he killed a few people over gambling and women. Cash was what the folks were calling a wandering bluesman, and that was sin enough in his mother's eyes. His family accused her of putting a root on him, tricking him to stay under her. Taiwo could only laugh at that. Whatever devilment he got into in his past was already in him. Taiwo tamed him of all that wandering, but let him keep singing. He sang songs of fucking, fighting, and losing good women. Field hollers and spirituals never came out of his mouth anymore. Her husband told bawdy stories with his banjo and looked forward to teaching his sons how to play. As long as he kept the foolishness in the music, she didn't mind.
One early morning Taiwo drank a special herbal mixture that her mother instructed her to drink if she wanted to prevent having more babies too soon. Cash did his best to pull out or use her mouth for his release, but he was a horny man in love with his wife. Taiwo got it in her head that she'd probably end up pregnant come winter when there was nothing to do but wait for spring to arrive again during the long, cold months. The twins were already a handful and she couldn't bear carrying another child so soon like most of her friends did.
She sipped on the concoction, then busied herself making corn cakes. Twins making it to six months could only be celebrated by gifting friends the fried goods from her skillet to share in the abundance of the Ibeji. Mavis stopped by with her newborn, eager to have a taste of the food herself fresh from the stove.
She fried all morning, and after the cooling time, wrapped up several piles of flat circular cakes to deliver. Mavis left after her fill, taking a few extras home to her husband.
Taiwo bundled the twins up in her small wagon next to the three plates of covered corn cakes.
"You takin' them hoecakes now?" Cash asked.
He rinsed his face from a leftover bucket of water on the porch.
"Yeah, I should be back in a few hours. I think it's time for the boys to get some fresh air and let people see them."
"Wo-Ma okay with that? Thought she wanted them kept indoors for a few more months."
"We can't hide them in the house forever. Besides, Elijah has healed up nice and plump again. He's strong and I want them both to get some sun along the way."
Cash stepped from the porch and kissed her forehead.
"Keep 'em in the shade if it gets too warm and rest if you need to."
"I will."
Taiwo clasped the handle of the wagon.
"And don't buy up all that penny candy from Mrs. Morgan if you see her. I know you'll pass by them people selling at the crossroads."
"One little bag…I promise."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
Taiwo tied her sun hat tighter under her neck and blew him a kiss. She tugged on the wagon handle, rolling the babies behind her.
The fall sunshine on her skin felt pleasant. It wasn't too hot for the twins, so she loosened up their swaddling, letting fresh air pour over them. Warm yellow rays added more color to their cheeks. Their eyes stared up at the big blue sky until she moved them closer to the trees as a few mule-drawn wagons rattled by on their way to town. She fanned her face from the gnats that flew under the tree canopies and stopped to check her babies as dust kicked up from the road along with more foot-traffic and carts. Strangers fawned over her children and she kept on her journey.
A few vendors peppered the way, some selling fish sandwiches and slices of sweet potato pie. She didn't see Mrs. Morgan out with her sugary sweets and kept walking the path that led to her friends.
She noticed an old man with balding grayish-white hair selling watermelon slices. The bright red of the innards dotted with vivid black seeds drew her near. A pile of watermelons sat stacked neatly on the side of the road with an old blanket, keeping them from touching the ground.
"I gots the sweetest, juiciest watermelons you'll ever taste!" he blurted to every passerby.
Taiwo had a taste for something sweet. Most of the vendors stayed out until late afternoon. If she couldn't have candy, then some sweet bites of watermelon would do. The watermelon man sliced chunks for customers who sampled his goods, and their smacking lips convinced Taiwo it was worth buying.
"Hey, pretty lady. Come on over here and try summa this melon. The best you ever had, I can promise you that!"
He sliced a fresh melon in half, and then carefully cut the green rind from the fruit.
The younger man next to him selling green apples looked annoyed. His baskets of fruit didn't attract as much attention from buyers.
"I have errands to run. I'll be by later," she said.
Her feet still carried her over to look at the fruit up close.
"Here, try a piece. I bet I can fit a whole watermelon right in your wagon…oh my, what do we have here? Are those twins?"
Taiwo grinned.
"Yes, my boys."
"Fine looking ones, too," he said, peering down at their chubby faces that peeked out at the fascinating new world.
Taiwo eyed the watermelon.
"Here."
The man handed her a chunk. She popped it into her mouth and it burst with a flavor so sweet and cooling that she gasped with delight. Some of the juice ran down her chin and she wiped it with her fingers.
"So good!' she said.
"Told ya."
"Ain't seen you 'round here before."
"I'm just passing through during the harvest. I heard the folks around here ain't had good watermelon in ages."
"Where you from?"
"Oh, from here and there…everywhere," he said with a sing-song voice.
Taiwo studied his face. Dark brown skin like the tobacco her daddy smoked. Teeth worn down and yellowed. Just enough wrinkles to obscure his true age. His overalls were clean, no trace of dust or dirt, and his shoes were made of sturdy dark leather that looked brand new. Both of his eyes were clouded over with a gray film, and she wondered how well he could see with them. Unlike the other vendors, he didn't have a wagon to move his product. Nor a wide cart he could pull himself.
"Here darlin', have another piece," he said, carving another chunk for her.
"I'll get some on my way back home," she said.
The large knife in his hand made her nervous with his poor eyesight.
"I'll be here waiting for you…and these cute lil boys."
Taiwo pulled her wagon and trudged away from the watermelon man and carried on about her business.
She stopped at her friend Louise's house first and gifted her with the most corn cakes since she had six children and a husband. They chatted for a few minutes and she let Louise hold each twin. Next, she walked over to her childhood friend Ora's home, where she lived with her parents and husband. Ora also had a baby a month older than Elijah and Elias, and the women traded baby tips on keeping rashes at bay and also looking out for constipation.
Her last delivery was to a cousin on her mother's side. Flossy didn't bother waiting to eat the corn cakes. She poured honey over them and feasted on two before her husband and children returned from fishing.
"If I don't eat some now, won't be none left when they get back," Flossy said.
Taiwo visited with her the longest and fed her babies. While she changed wet diapers, they talked about family, the weather, and the harvest party a mutual friend was throwing in a week.
"Girl, I ain't been out dancing in so long," Taiwo sighed.
"Let my oldest Peaches watch the babies and you and Cash come out for a good time. She fifteen and responsible. You can feed them here and come out with me and Dexter for a few hours. Be good to see you out. We'd love to hear Cash play. He still talkin' 'bout opening that juke?"
"He is. But I would rather we open another business."
Flossy ate another corn cake and put the rest inside her oven for safe-keeping. They hugged and Taiwo retraced her steps toward home. The boys slept soundly with the gentle rocking motion of the wagon and the humming she did. She stopped to cover them with another blanket as the air grew cooler.
Most of the vendors had left the crossroads, and the few remaining packed up and rolled away in carts and wagons.
Not the watermelon man.
He stayed soliciting and slicing chunks.
The old man sniffed the air before she approached him.
"I can smell those sweet babies. Such a delicious aroma. Are you ready to buy from me pretty lady?"
Taiwo didn't like what he said. She kept her sons hidden from him.
Cautiously, she moved her wagon further into the road and away from the vendor. He held out a thick slice of watermelon for her to take.
"No, thank you…I don't have any money on me today," she said.
The grin on the old man's face faltered. He sniffed the air once more and his nostrils twitched like a feral animal smelling the subtle whiff of prey.
"Well, I'm sure you'll be by here again with those babies. Why don't you take a whole one home with you?"
"That's a kind offer, but I'm not sure when I'll be back again."
She kept moving until she passed him. He pointed the knife at her.
"I have no problem with you paying me later. I'll be here for awhile. Good business in these parts. Maybe…maybe you could let me hold one of them babies, huh? They are so cute…and fat."
He ogled Elias. She pretended not to hear him, as if the people leaving the area further ahead distracted her.
Pulling the wagon faster, she quickly forged on. Once she had some safe distance between herself and the watermelon man, she breathed a little easier and her chest didn't feel so tight. She glanced over her shoulder and didn't see anyone following her.
Her shoulders relaxed the closer she came to familiar landmarks. She closed in on their plot of sharecropping land.
"Taiwo!"
The anger in the voice calling to her from the dense trees near the right side of the road didn't stop her from moving. Papa Will taught her about answering strange voices she didn't know. If she looked, whatever called her would know she was the owner of the name. If she answered, it would follow her home. Or worse.
She walked faster.
The wagon shook the boys awake, and they babbled at her.
The dark nature of that faceless voice propelled her to go even faster.
She reached her home and carefully lifted her children. Entering the safety of the cabin spilled relief throughout her rigid body. She kissed the boys and fed them in her rocking chair while watching for any signs of trouble through the window.
Cash walked in from the bedroom and looked at the kitchen table.
"No candy?" he teased.
She shook her head.
"What's the matter? You look spooked."
"An old man selling watermelons scared me."
"How?"
"He acted strange…well, he said something strange, and it bothered me. He said he could smell my babies. But I wasn't close enough for him to do that. The boys were covered up. I hadn't even got close enough for him to know I was there. He made me feel uncomfortable… I could feel the badness in my stomach and chest."
Cash rubbed his chin and concern crossed over his features. He sat down and spoke with a steady voice.
"Did you show him the twins?" Cash asked.
"He saw part of their faces."
"Ben came by here right after you left. He dropped off some tools and told me about a baby that was stolen over in Rolling Fork four days ago. A mother turned her back on a man selling pecans for a minute and her baby was gone from her yard. Next time you go out, I'm coming with you."
Taiwo nodded.
A few days passed by and Taiwo rode with Cash on their wagon to see his parents. She didn't want to be around them and their critical gaze, but Cash didn't want to leave her alone at the cabin with the boys.
Taiwo held the twins on her lap, and the couple enjoyed the outing. They made plans to look for land to buy soon. Cash sang to her and her cheeks warmed up from the salacious nature of the lyrics. Her belly ached from laughing at the humorous way he changed the sound of his voice to sing falsetto like a woman. The babies grinned every time she giggled.
Blinking twice, she nudged Cash's arm.
The watermelon man sat on the side of the road not too far from the crossroads. Another stack of bright green melons enticed buyers, and he used his sharp knife to cut the fruit samples.
"Pretty lady. I see you're back."
His cloudy eyes focused in on the twins. His nose twitched.
"Brought those babies, too," he said.
"That's him," she whispered to Cash.
The watermelon man lifted a chunk of dripping sweetness that trailed a line of juice, looking like pale pink blood on his arm. His body appeared smaller and more hunched over than the last time Taiwo met him.
"We don't want none," Cash said.
He snapped the reins, and their mule, Esther, skedaddled along, pulling them away.
They tried to ignore the sighting of the old man and continued on with their day, but uneasiness chilled their once pleasant mood.
Another week passed and a trip home from church with Wo-Ma and Papa Will in their wagon brought them face-to-face with the watermelon man again. This time, he was about two hundred yards from their home and held one melon in his left hand and the knife in his right.
None of them acknowledged the man, simply passed him right by without a sound, even as he called to them about purchasing his fruit.
"That's who I told you about, Wo-Ma," Taiwo said inside her kitchen.
Her parents drank coffee with Cash, and she fretted over how long it would take for the watermelon man to find their cabin. Cash's forehead crinkled.
"He more different from before. Even smaller…older," Cash said.
"It's a trickster. Not even human, Cash. It used the watermelon Taiwo ate to stick to her. It won't leave until it gets what it wants. There's something about those babies that attracts things that shouldn't be around us," Wo-Ma said.
"What can we do? I done tried every root I know to cast it away from me, but it keeps coming closer," Taiwo asked.
"Give him what he wants. Give him the twins," Papa Will said.
Taiwo balked and stared at her father liked he'd gone mad. Papa Will patted her hand.
"We trick him into thinking he's got the twins. It cain't see good, but it can smell an ant fart."
Wo-Ma and Cash laughed. Taiwo didn't crack a smile.
"He's one of the little people," Papa Will said. "They steal babies and then leave you with one that looks like yours behind. Only that new baby ain't right. It'll suck the life outta you because it ain't a real baby. Just misery."
Papa Will looked at Wo-Ma and winked, then gestured for them all to move in closer around the kitchen table.
"This what we do," Papa Will whispered.
"I hope this works," Cash said.
"It has to," Taiwo answered.
She held onto the squirming bundle in her arms.
"Even if he caint see for shit, he can sure tell a piglet from a baby by how that thing is making noise."
Taiwo glanced at the suckling pig in her arms, wrapped in her children's baby blanket.
"Papa Will said to treat them just like I would Elijah and Elias. Go about my business and let that man see me doing it."
"I should come with you."
"No…you caint. You gotta stay with Elijah and Elias. He'll know we're up to something if you show up. I can do this, Cash."
The second piglet that was also dressed in the twin's baby clothes and a blanket grunted and squirmed underneath the abnormal covering for its smelly skin. For two weeks, they didn't wash any of the children's spare clothing, so their scent would permeate the cotton. Then they dressed and carried the piglets around the house and outside as if they were the babies. Taiwo washed clothes with the piglets by her side. Cash chopped wood and worked on repairs around the cabin to prepare for winter, singing them songs he made up like he did his real babies.
The time came to venture out and lay the scheme on the watermelon man.
Taiwo kissed Cash goodbye, and he pretended to kiss the piglets. Earlier, she let the fat sow in her pen feed them. The trip wouldn't take long. She just had to be seen by the old man taking her children out for errands.
She pulled the wagon and hummed, trying to act normal. She stopped to peer at the piglets, acting like she was checking on their comfort. With each squeal, she pretended they babbled to her, and she cooed and kissed their pink snouts.
Mavis and her husband passed her by on the road.
"Where you headed Taiwo?" Mavis asked.
"Taking the boys for a walk," she said, dashing past them.
Mavis glanced into the wagon but Taiwo didn't give her a chance to ask about seeing the babies. The wagon wheels groaned from the sudden movement.
Her eyes darted from side to side as she sang a lullaby to pass the time. Eventually she glimpsed the figure of the watermelon man squatted on the ground further down the road, shielded by the low-hanging branch of a tupelo tree.
He had no more watermelons. Only the knife in his hand. He scraped it against the dirt between his legs.
"Pretty lady, I'm all outta melons today…and patience, too," he said.
Taiwo stayed calm. His appearance had become sinister, the cloudy eyes sunken in on his face and the aged yellow teeth more prominent in his mouth. Longer. Sharper at the tips. The clothing on his body became ill-fitting and tattered. There were no more shoes on his feet and the flesh of his toes looked like hard ashy stones. Even the tone of his voice had become harsh and scratchy to the ear.
"I'm not buying anything today. I have people to see," Taiwo blurted.
She strolled past him with the wagon and paused for a second, peering into the faces of her piglet children.
"You boys are being so good for me," she said, making sure the old man heard her.
Following Papa Will's instructions, she traveled far from her home to search for foxgloves flowers. Wo-Ma never allowed them to grow around their homes. The small purple bell shapes attracted magical beings, and she was positive that the old man came from the bulk that thrived among the brush area near the crossroads.
It didn't take long for her to find a thick overgrowth.
She tugged on the wagon handle and pulled the piglets into the center of the flowers.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured to the animals.
Lifting her skirt, she walked away from the wagon and acted like she had to urinate behind some trees. Hidden away, she closed her eyes tight and hugged her legs into her chest with her back jammed against the bark.
Soon, both piglets squealed in terror…then silence.
Taiwo waited longer before she emerged from her hiding place. Fear gripped her throat, and she held her breath. From across the way, she could see the disheveled blankets in the wagon. She crept closer.
The piglets were gone.
Taiwo ran back home without looking back.
Cash gripped his shotgun inside the cabin. Elijah and Elias slept soundly in their crib. When Taiwo burst through the door, he jumped up from a chair placed in front of it.
"He took 'em! The pigs…they gone!"
Cash nodded and hugged her with one arm.
"Now we wait until tomorrow," he said.
They slept with their boys between them on the bed. Neither of them could sleep a wink. Every sound outside became cause for alarm. A loon wailing hitched their breath. Crickets suddenly going quiet, their wings no longer rubbing together to chirp mating calls chilled their blood. The baying of a loose hound dog roaming the field wrenched them away from much needed rest.
By the crack of dawn, Taiwo could catnap while Cash stayed alert for signs of the trickster.
She fed the babies early and her parents arrived to lend their support. They would watch the children while Cash and Taiwo fetched the wagon.
"Don't take the shotgun, it'll attract attention," Papa Will said.
Cash lifted his axe from under the cabin and clasped Taiwo's hand.
"You musn't speak at all, not until you finish the task at the river," Wo-Ma said.
The couple set off with the sun on their backs. Taiwo sucked in a nervous breath as they arrived at the place where she left the wagon off-road. Two lumpy bundles rested under the blankets that had been empty before. Cash pointed toward the river and Taiwo carefully pulled the wagon handle.
What rested under the blankets squirmed and elicited throaty warbles trying to imitate the sounds of the piglets. Taiwo's hands shook once they reached the water's edge. She took a small bag of salt from the rucksack she carried and sprinkled it in a large circle around the wagon.
Cash signaled for her to step aside.
He reached down and pulled back the faded blanket.
The abomination in the wagon brought Taiwo to her knees. Even Cash retched. She vomited on the ground and held her nose, the stench so overpowering that her eyes welled up with tears. More bile rose in her throat and she nearly screamed before Cash slammed his hand over her mouth. They couldn't let on that the creatures lying in the wagon weren't their babies.
The putrid odor reminded her of rotted meat and burning sulfur. Twisted bloody flesh made a vile mockery of anything that God had created on earth. Skinless with black worm-like protrusions pulsing all over them, the offerings in the wagon in no way resembled living pigs. More like something had vaguely assembled inside-out beings from scraps of diseased tissue they thought could pass for babies. The worst part was the lifeless, silvery eyes bulging out of the sockets on stalks like slugs seeking moisture.
Taiwo shook Cash's arm and pointed into the wagon.
The creatures changed.
A slow blooming of pink skin crawled across the lumpish muscles and wiggling sinew whose foul odor lessened in the air. The transformation from bloody cryptids into sprightly piglets astonished them. Had they arrived later than they did, no one would've been able to convince them of the deceit.
Cash raised the axe and butchered them.
He hissed when a splash of fluid from a piglet dripped down his arm. It sizzled and blistered with yellow pus oozing from it, and he cried out in pain. Taiwo snatched the kerchief she wore off her head and drenched it in cool river water. She wiped down his arm, but the piglet's blood scorched down into the second layer of skin. Cash inhaled his pain and continued chopping up the bodies, careful to avoid any more pig liquid from touching him or Taiwo.
His work complete, Cash collected kindling, covering the decimated creatures. He lit a match.
The bodies blazed. Taiwo covered her nose and stood back from the dark gray smoke that turned an ominous sanguine color. The red fumes rose high and drifted across the water.
Cash pushed the wagon into the river, and its contents flowed downstream before sinking from sight.
Taiwo let out a loud gasp and moaned into Cash's chest as he held her close. The pain in his arm increased, and he grimaced. She ripped a piece of her skirt off and wrapped the wound. Afterward, she reached into her bag again and pulled out a silver dollar. She planted it in the center of the salt circle and buried it with dirt and more salt. She settled the debt to the old man for eating his watermelon. Taiwo spoke an incantation over it to seal the circle.
"Let's go home…get back to our real babies," Cash said through gritted teeth.
Life went on.
Cash's wounds never healed properly and turned into slippery black keloids that remained as a testament to the watermelon man's attempt to ruin their lives.
Elijah and Elias grew bigger, learned to crawl, and that brought on more challenges to keep up with them. Taiwo's conjuring powers and Cash's watchful eye in the world protected them.
When the twins turned a year old, a great flood swept through Clarksdale. A heavy rainstorm planted its watery arms above them and gathered the power of two mighty tributaries that swelled up the river beds and poured out onto the fertile fields. Many people drowned. The churning, muddy waters damaged homes and washed others away forever.
Taiwo and Cash barely had enough time to gather the children and her parents before the roar of water rushed through the plantation land. They used two wagons to transport people, a few chickens, and their pigs. Papa Will kept them somewhat prepared by reading the weather and water level signs early, forcing them to move inland toward higher ground when others doubted the severity of the storm.
Days later, when the waters receded, they returned to salvage what they could. Taiwo found her wooden Ibeji figures stuck in mud outside their home.
Luckily, the cabin remained despite the water damage inside. Cash figured that the trees and brush helped protect their home from being dragged into oblivion. It would need some rebuilding and fortifying, but at least they had a roof over their heads.
Taiwo gazed at the broken doorway and water-logged porch. A new coating of haint blue was needed. She clutched the Ibeji figures as the twins sat on a dry blanket covering the porch. Stroking the wood, she fretted a little. The figure representing Elias had a tiny nick on the neck. Her finger worried the marking and a sliver of wood splintered and cut her skin. She bled. Sucking on her finger, she glanced at Elias, who crawled across the porch trying to get to Cash, who checked the walls outside. Her youngest grabbed Cash's leg and pulled himself up to stand on his own feet.
Taiwo looked at the wooden figure again.
"Taiwo, hey! Taiwo! Cash!"
Mavis and her husband Roy rolled in on their creaky, mule-drawn wagon.
"We came to check on y'all," Mavis said.
Mavis held her deep brown baby girl Annie on her lap. A yellow bonnet covered the baby's curly hair, and her bright eyes were as big as her smile.
"Hey Annie, you sure is pretty," Taiwo said.
She lifted the girl from her friend's arms and carried her over to the porch where she plopped her rump on the top damp step. Mavis joined her and Elijah crawled over to Taiwo and hoisted himself up by her shoulder. He reached for Annie's bonnet and the baby girl squealed in delight.
Cash held Elias and spoke to Roy, and Taiwo chatted with Mavis. Elijah and Annie gurgled and babbled together as the sun rose higher, drying the water left on the land. Eventually Taiwo lifted the Ibeji figures and took them back inside the house, placing them above the fireplace where they belonged. She didn't bother to wipe the mud off, wanting to keep the memory of the flood on them so she would know her babies survived when some didn't.
Mavis and Roy headed out back to their place. They were part of the blessed few who still had a home to return to.
Taiwo and Cash held their children and watched their friends' wagon get pulled slowly by their stubborn mule.
A breeze blew across her hair, and the stale scent of foreboding returned. Cash bounced Elijah in his arms and Taiwo held Elias close to her bosom. A new flood would come again one day in the future. Not one made from a gathering of waters out of the river, but from a different place. It seeped into her marrow. Taunting her.
A battle was coming.
All Taiwo could do was stay vigilant and love on her babies. Lean on her husband.
She prayed that whatever wickedness came their way, God, her conjuring skills, and calls to their ancestors could withstand it.
It had to. It just had to.
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Author's Note:
1. My story title "A Gathering of Waters" is the Anishinaabeg translation for the word "Mississippi" which they named the Mississippi River after.
2. Ibeji is the term for "Divine Twins" in the Yoruba Orisha Pantheon from southwest Nigeria (Naija!). Their colors are associated with red and blue because they are said to have been born of Shango (the Orisha of thunder, lightning, and fire = red), and Yemayá (The Goddess of the primal waters, nurturing, and protective= blue.)
3. Clarksdale, Mississippi is widely known as the birthplace of the Blues and has its well-known supernatural Black American folk tales and myths about blues singer Robert Johnson and his deal with the devil at the crossroads.
4. There are real Indian mounds throughout Mississippi that are sacred to the original Indigenous Mississippians. Black folks descended from Choctaw people would be known as Chahta Lusa, Chahta = Choctaw and Lusa = Black.
5. Hoodoo (which I practice) is not the same as Voodoo (Vodun), but they both have their roots (like Santeria, Obeah, Lucumi, Candomble etc) under the umbrella of African spiritualist traditions. Enslaved Africans carried their belief systems throughout the Black diaspora. Wherever they landed, they transformed, and synthesized with other African Traditional Religions (ATR) from the other west African cultures they were forced into bondage with, often hiding their old "gods" under new names and new ways of worship. This is why Wo-Ma and Taiwo in my story can have some ancestral memories of the Ibeji passed down to them, but they use Hoodoo methods to work their conjuring after nearly two hundred years of Black people being in America.
6. The banjo is an African instrument carried over from enslavement into the Caribbean and America. Please don't think white Americans invented it. They didn't. It's used so often in country music (that Black people created too) that folks think it's a European instrument. Originally made from gourds, it has been a staple in blues music until we started using more guitars.
7. I will be writing more fics in this world. I want to get another quick one out before I see the "Sinners" movie a few days after it comes out. My fics in this new fandom will be called the "Ibeji Series".
Southern California is still on fire and it's getting worse
Due to the support I've received from my previous post, I wanted to provide more updates on the fires happening around Southern California
On 01/08/2024, LA Mayor Karen Bass returned to California after she attending the inauguration of President John Dramani Mahama in Ghana. Many Angelenos were already infuriated with the mayor after discussions about how she defunded the LA Fire Department circulated online and her not being in the state only caused their anger to grow.
Sky news reporter David Blevins confronted Mayor Bass as she was leaving the plane. As Blevins questioned the mayor, including asking her if "Do you think the people deserve an apology for being away while the fires were burning?", Mayor Karen Bass stayed frozen and silent.
At the same time, you had newly appointed District Attorney Nathan Hochman on local news outlets, condemning looters and swearing to punish any that police find. Despite the fact that police admitted that since the fires started on 01/07/2024, only two looters have been arrested. Nevertheless, DA Hochman continues to practically froth at the mouth at the thought at arresting looters, even as he stands in front of his sister's burnt down home.
Shifting to the actual issue at hand, the fires continue to burn with new ones exploding across the region. As of writing, the Palisades fire has grown from over 15,000 to over 17,000 acres. The Altadena fire has stayed at over 10,000 acres while the Hurst fire grew to over 800 acres and the Lidia fire ballooned to over 300 acres.
Residents who have evacuated from the Altadena fire (known officially as the Eaton fire) and are now in Fire Evacuated Areas in Pasadena are now facing an Unsafe Water Warning as the water and power system has been impacted by debris. They're told to only use bottled water as not even boiling water makes it safe. If you're in Southern California, please consider donating bottled water along with pillows, sleeping cots/mats/pads/and diapers to the Pasadena Red Cross located at 128 S Marengo Ave. If you would like to donate, please consider donating to the Pasadena Humane Society.
A new fire called the Sunset fire ballooned to over 50 acres in 20 minutes. As you may have guessed from the name, this fire had occurred on Sunset Boulevard, although it officially started on the Hollywood Hills. Although most of the fires affected residential areas, this was one of the first fires to hit a major metropolitan area. If the fire had spread further, it not only would have affected hundreds of people and businesses, but it would have destroyed major LA landmarks including the Hollywood Bowl and the Chinese theater.
The only good news that can be said about the situation is that the Santa Ana winds has lessened significantly. Although there is still Red Flag warnings across Socal, helicopters are now able to target the fire with water and fire retardant drops. As a result, the Sunset fire appears to still be burning, but contained, and evacuation orders have been lifted as of writing.
If you're in Southern California, please use the MALAN Fire and Wind Storm Resources to find resources in your area.
If you're able, please consider donating to the Gofundmes of Californians who have lost their homes to the fires. You can use this thread on Twitter to look for Gofundmes to donate to.
Please continue to keep Southern California in your hearts. There has been a growing sentiment online that LA deserves the fires as it's the home to some of the most rich and powerful people in the country. It's also the home of millions of working class people. People who have lived here for generations. It's also the home for disabled people and the unhoused who will be the most most affected by the flames and the smoke that has clouded my beautiful home.
As this country continues to divide us with fascist rhetoric and misinformation, we need love and community more than ever.
Summary: You and Yahya prepare for a special keepsake and new holiday memories.
Pairing: Yahya Abdul Mateen II x Black!Reader
Word Count: 3,159
Warnings: None.
Previous: NEIGHBOR’S MASTERLIST
A/N: This one is for @ghostfacekill-monger. If you're new to these characters, I'll shamelessly plug the series above. Enjoy.
If the Abdul-Mateen family was nothing else, they were a collection of Black folks with big personalities and a flair for the dramatic. Everything from how Yolanda and Senior's home was lit up with carefully placed string lights to the interior decor that Yolanda poured her heart and soul into for no other reason than to see how her grandchildren's eyes lit up when they stepped into her home. And to make their neighbors across the street, the Walters, seethe in jealousy when they step outside their home to see such an extravagant display of taste and wealth. But that was a different conversation to have over aged Cabernet after photos for the annual holiday card were wrapped and the ladies were left to their own devices while the men did whatever it was they did in Senior's parlor.
Upstairs, as bodies whizzed from room to room to meet their strict 12:30 pm call time, Yahya chased a giggling toddler version of himself down the hallway before extending his long arms to pull the little one into the air just before he could reach the stairs for the third time that half-hour.
"Damn, boy," he panted before wincing at the ache in his back as he stood up straight. "Remind me to tell your mama you need to run track in a few years. You got your daddy's speed."
Yahya, half-dressed and already sweating from the stuffy sweater and playing wrangler for his rambunctious mini-me, looked down at his son's feet and noticed that he'd forgotten to add the one part of his outfit that would keep him from moving so fast. He'd learned to toddle but hadn't quite grasped the concept of doing so in footwear.
He set off to consult the one person with supreme knowledge and authority in their shared household across town.
In a junior suite on the first floor, he listened to you hum along to Gucci Mane's Christmas album at the bedroom's threshold, out of breath and at his wit's end. He knocked twice before speaking.
"Baby, where are Nasir's shoes?"
"Next to his sweater."
"Got it," Yahya answered, eyes still blank as if you had never given him an answer. He started to walk out but doubled back. "And if I were looking for his sweater, where would that be?"
Holding a breastfeeding baby in one arm and pressing brightening concealer under tired eyes was your primary task that your man promised he wouldn't interrupt. But his oldest son was an adventurous, hard-to-wrangle rascal with all his features and a knack for wearing out even the most seasoned professional.
Peeling your eyes from your vanity mirror, you looked over at him and his worried expression to offer a bit of reassurance. "I left it on the ottoman in the sitting room so he'll be distracted during his screentime."
When it came to your boys, every detail was tediously planned from sunup to sundown. Yahya still hadn't convinced you to make schedules for any other aspect of life like grocery shopping or tax paying, but motherhood was different. Motherhood was sacred and beautiful, and everything else you didn't expect when that pregnancy test came up positive not once but twice in three years of partnership.
Yahya smiled at your thoughtfulness before answering. "Thank you, baby. I promise to leave you alone now."
"You're okay. That's why we work together. Come here." Yahya added a little spring to his step as he closed the short distance between you two, stopping just short for a silly little two-step before bending forward to meet your lips for a few quick pecks and leaving a couple for Tariq's forehead as he suckled from your breast. Your hand lingered on his cheek while you spoke. "You're a good man, Savannah. A good man."
"What's crazy is that nigga was not a good man," he laughed.
"Okay, but why did you ruin the moment?"
Yahya lifted his hands in surrender. "My fault, baby. Gas me up."
Affirmations of his worthiness as a husband and father murmured between quick kisses made Nasir giggle until both of you turned your attention to showering him in praise, too. He'd learned a few new words as the year ended. All of them expletives or some form of your shared pet names, but new words nonetheless.
While the cute family moment pulled you away from getting ready, Amir walked past the room and doubled back to stop the lollygagging at his mother's behest. He wore the mantle of enforcer with pride.
"Aye, man, y'all ain't ever heard of a call time? Don't have my mama looking for y'all. You know her sciatica actin' up."
"Her what?"
"Don't make me repeat it. You know I got a heavy tongue." You tried but failed to contain your laughter, pulling Yahya in to join as he stood to readjust Nas on his hip. Amir feigned his offense with a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, so y'all are ableists? This is crazy."
"No, you're just an idiot. I knew they adopted you," Yahya answered back, the taunting tone of a younger sibling thick in his voice and a childish grin to match.
Amir scoffed and looked in your direction. "You see what happens when a nigga gets back cool with his daddy? He start actin' entitled and whatnot. Should've never allowed y'all to reconcile. I miss emotionally charged Christmas."
Yahya's jaw hung slack while you tucked both lips into your mouth to conceal the unruly laugh deep within your soul. It didn't matter how long you were part of their family; the jokes at the other's expense would never cease to amaze you. No one could eviscerate the Abdul-Mateen clan like the members within their close-knit circle.
Though impressed with his older brother's quick wit, Yahya couldn't allow the annoyance in his expression to falter for even a moment. He pretended to laugh as he geared up for a retort that didn't quite come close to the earlier jab but fulfilled his need to feel victorious.
"That's why Hassan is getting the house in the will."
"You thought you did something. I knew that already. You just now gettin' into those rooms, my boy."
Thwarted again. Yahya looked to you for backup while you carefully helped Tariq end his feeding session and returned your breast to its rightful home. "Amir, if you keep talking to my man like that, we gon' have an issue. You know what happened last time."
"My fault, OG," he answered, tapping the space over his heart to signal his allegiance as memories of the night a few too many postpartum cocktails had you reliving the early days of your relationship with the family. "Y'all got it. I don't want no problems. You a good man, Savannah."
"That's what I said!"
A half-decade of family dinners, vacations, and game nights creating inside jokes and sharing funnies between kindred spirits was bound to result in some personality transfer. Still, Yahya could never, in a million years, predict that you and Amir would become two hosts for nearly the same brain.
Yahya looked between the both of you, confused and amused at the sheer absurdity of the unlikely moment of deja vu. "I never should've introduced y'all. Now I'm married to Amir: The Sequel."
"Oh, please," you scoffed as you turned back to the mirror. "I am way too fine to claim that position. No offense, Amir."
"I'm not gon' act like there's none taken. That hurt. Thought we were better than that, Tootie. At least I still got my nephews on my side."
"You do not," Yahya answered, playfully shielding both boys from their uncle's affection. "I'm raising my kids to dislike you. This is a family that hates before we love. If nobody else gon' keep it going, I will. You know me."
While the youngest brothers fell into their typical back-and-forth exchange of jabs covered in an unmistakable love for one another, you let the familiar chatter surround you in the kind of warmth that could only be felt in the presence of family.
To think that there was once a time when the family was split into factions too stubborn to have a civil conversation seemed like an alternate reality. You'd traversed the hardships of severed bonds to come out on the other end triumphant, with your relationship intact and growing by the minute.
As chatter grew louder, more guests seeking refuge from Yolanda's iron fist trickled into an already crowded room. Hassan rounded the corner with Lourdes and Sha'Tarra in tow, two of them holding separate glasses of spirits you could've sworn were off-limits until the evening.
Hassan chimed in, loud and gregarious, courtesy of the expensive whiskey in his half-empty glass. "Damn, we having a meeting, and nobody told us?"
"I always knew you liked Tootie more than me," Lourdes playfully accused Amir.
"You know they have a standing weekly lunch, right?" Tarra laughed as she rested against the quartz bathroom counter in her red satin dress that barely contained the seven-month pregnant belly she was starting to abhor. "Every Wednesday at Kismet downtown. Oh my God, I could go for some of their wings right now. Baby, can you order some for me? It's for AJ, and your mama is starving us."
Amir placed a chaste kiss on his wife's forehead to placate her before delivering devastating news. "I love you so much, baby. But my mama is gone be the reason AJ goes to college. We makin' money, but we ain't making Ivy League tuition money yet. Here. Chew some gum. It'll fill you up."
The room lit up with laughter except for Tarra, who screwed her face and smacked the stick of gum meant to cure her hunger out of Amir's hand. You chuckled along as you swapped children with Yahya and focused on cleaning Nasir's face for the hundredth time.
"If you want 'em, we packed some apple and carrot slices for Nas as a snack. They're in the loft and all yours."
The mention of a worthwhile snack made Tarra giddy enough to wiggle through her excitement while brandishing a manicured middle finger meant especially for her husband on her way out the door.
"Thank you, girl. At least somebody cares about me."
"You always coming to the rescue. Are you trynna steal my shine," Hassan asked with a laugh.
You shook your head. "Nah. I'm trynna steal Yahya's shine. You know he's the golden boy. I need them privileges for all my hard work keeping this family together."
"She's not wrong. Senior hasn't been this happy since…well, hell, I don't think I've ever seen your father this happy." Lourdes laughed.
"Turned him into sitcom dad in three years. You really might be a magician. You do taxes, Tootie?"
Loud laughter bounced off the bathroom walls at Amir's joke and the noticeable shift in Senior's behavior. A once hard man never known for pleasantries or extending kindness beyond his wife and grandchildren had blossomed into the quintessential loving grandfather.
A grand smile big enough to rival the sun had found a permanent home on his lips since the day Yahya met you at the end of a short backyard aisle and pledged his love to you forever and always. He was there when each of his youngest grandchildren were born, spent birthday parties dressed as a host of characters, played with action figures and dolls, and made time for weekly appointments with all of his children, natural and inherited.
Despite your humble denial that you had nothing to do with such a stark transition, you'd been credited with re-introducing the family to the best version of Senior they'd ever experienced.
Especially by Yahya, who finally got to know his father in a way he'd always desired.
"That's my baby," Yahya gushed, a silly grin gracing his face as he affectionately gripped your chin for a quick kiss. "You don't want her handling your money, though. She has no clue what a budget is."
"Why would I need a budget?"
"You sound like your mother-in-law, young lady."
A booming voice projecting beyond a ridiculous faux Santa beard came into the room shortly before Senior's physical presence joined the growing party. A glass of whiskey in his hand matched his oldest son's, making for a silent toast from across the way as they took identical sips.
He continued. "In here hiding from the lady of the house," he asked as he looked around the space at faces that gave answers that their mouths wouldn't dare utter. He took another sip and nodded. "This is a good spot. I usually do the cellar, but this works. She will find you, though."
"She always does. She is basically Detective Stabler in a pair of Dior slippers." Yahya laughed, earning a smile from his father.
An overlapping chorus of brief personal memories of being found by Yolanda amid a one-sided game of hide and seek. She always won no matter how they attempted to outsmart and evade her watchful eye.
Quickly finding his collection of older children uninteresting, Senior turned his attention to Nasir and Tariq, pulling the infant from his youngest son's arms to speak at him in a high-pitched voice.
"You win, my girl. Sorry, I ever doubted you. But using the baby is a dirty tactic."
"Who told you I played fair?"
"Touché."
Senior watched you and Amir exchange a handshake too complicated for his taste and screwed his face in growing confusion. "Win what? You two gambling again?"
"They think Tootie's your favorite now. Yahya lost his spot at the top." Hassan cut in.
The older man scoffed. "All of you are too old to be my favorite anything."
"But if you had to choose, it's Tootie, right?"
"I'm not answering that," he laughed before a quick pause to eye them all individually. He stopped at you and smiled, adding a wink before speaking again. "She isn't half bad if that's what you're asking."
Another round of laughter and collective conversation proved fatal as Yolanda marched down the hallway with Macie in tow. The soft clicking of her heels across wood floors didn't register amongst the chatter until it was too late. Your attempt to signal the others was futile. All of you were caught again.
Yolanda cleared her throat, freezing everyone in an instant. She folded her arms over her chest. "Is this what I get in return for all my hard work and planning? Are you hiding from me?" All in the room rushed to deny her accusation to no avail. She couldn't be fooled. "And then you lie to me. Am I nothing to you people?"
Her heavy dose of guilt worked how she'd intended, producing averted gazes and murmured apologies that made her bite back a triumphant smile.
"That's why I came down here, honey," Senior lied as he approached her for a kiss she didn't return. "They don't listen. I'm so glad you came to back me up. Bad, bad children the who-"
"You're laying it on thick. Stop while you're ahead."
"Yes, ma'am. Stopping now."
A tense silence hung in the room while they waited for Yolanda to unleash her wrath. You looked between everyone, your brain scrambling in a frantic search for words that could turn the snafu into more of a misunderstanding than an intentional slight.
Finally, your mind drafted an appropriate response. "We just wanted to get out of your way, Ms. Yolanda. Amir came to tell us you were almost ready for us, just like you asked, but I know you need quiet for a masterpiece. We should start outside so the folks across the street can get a reminder on who really runs Christmas around here."
The mention of the Walters family getting a glimpse of her kin all dressed in their holiday best brought back a competitive light to Yolanda's eyes as she smiled.
"You're right. I like the way you think," she started, her gaze far off for a moment while she envisioned the looks on their smug faces. She slowly refocused and waved her hands in the air. "Wrap this up and do it quickly. We have photos to take! C'mon, Senior. And take off that ridiculous beard. It's giving me "the ick," as Macie would say."
A collective sigh of relief was released as Yolanda left the room with her granddaughter hot on her heels, imitating her every move as a last-ditch effort to score the Christmas gift at the top of her list. Senior turned to the group and gestured toward you as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Now, can any of you do that?"
He didn't wait to hear an answer. As quickly as he could pass Tariq back to Yahya, he was off to comply with his wife's strict instructions.
One by one, the others trickled out, leaving behind various iterations of praise for your quick thinking and the recognition that you, in fact, had claimed the coveted throne with no worthy competitor in sight.
As the room returned to comfortable quiet, Yahya turned to you as you stood from the vanity to get a final look at your gown. He called your name softly before capturing your hand in his to pull you flush to his body.
A slow and thorough kiss connected your lips and tongues until he was confident that his actions had conveyed his point. But, just in case they didn't, he praised you with his words.
"If I was gonna give up my spot, I'm glad it's to you."
"I only wanna be queen of your heart, baby," you giggled. "The rest of this is just extra."
He chuckled at your smooth talking. "You can't finesse a finesser, baby. Who do you think talked you into all this? You ain't married with kids for no reason."
"Oh, please! Santa gave me all this. I had it on my list."
"Yeah, right."
Stolen kisses and lingering touches were cut short at a second call of their names from the hallway. Yahya reluctantly took the boys out of the bathroom's safety and into the winter chill, leaving you alone for a final moment of peace.
You took a look at your reflection, allowing a small smile to creep across your lip as your eyes swept over every change in your body since a fated meeting in your old apartment building. Formal gowns for family photos. A wedding ring that glittered in the light. A crazy bonus family that loved you dearly. Extra weight from two safe births only a few short years apart. All from a quick conversation with the guy next door.
"Thank you, Santa. This is cool or whatever."
Straightening the strap on your dress, you stood up a little straighter and laughed at yourself before flipping the light switch and joining your family. Santa had outdone himself yet again.
N'Jadaka woke up with the weight of Yani's thigh sprawled across his naked backside. The heat made him feel sticky all over but he was quite comfortable with his wife's limb keeping him close to her.
The children's voice's drifted through the open window and he heard plenty of splashing to match the exuberance of their combined laughter. He glanced at his kimoyos. The neon yellow holo alarm floated the time. It rang two hours ago and he missed it. He tried rolling over but Yani groaned and reached out to keep him in place.
"Baby, the kids are already up and outside," he whispered in her ear.
Yani squirmed and grumbled in her sleep.
One of the perks of being the king and queen of a nation was having nannies and other staff look after the children's needs before they even woke up. They'd been spoiled not having to do anything but love on their children all day without the responsibities of doing laundry, cooking, or cleaning. Because of that, they'd both slept through an alarm reminding them that they had to feed, bathe, and take care of their children while on their own. Childrearing had them both exhausted. They'd forgotten what it was like to care for three active kids all day without help or breaks. Even between the two of them, their days ended with them dropping dead on their loft bed wondering how they could keep going the next day despite all the fun they were enjoying together.
"Yani…baby…wake up. The kids are already out in the water."
Yani's eyes popped open then.
"Already in the water? Without supervision?"
She jumped off the bed nude and grabbed a fresh pair of bikini bottoms. He watched her struggle to get her bikini top on.
"C'mon, get up," she ordered, throwing a new pair of swim trunks to him.
He shuffled off the bed and pulled on the pale yellow trunks.
"We have got to do better. This is the third time we've slept through the morning forgetting about them," Yani gently scolded.
"Most people don't take their children on a honeymoon."
He rubbed on her backside and kissed her to cheek to calm her down.
"People will think we're neglectful parents. They know they're not supposed to be in the water without adults around."
He followed Yani down the stairs and out onto the back of the boat. The children climbed and bounced from a giant island inflatable attached to the portable deck they added to the back of the houseboat. The inflatable had three big sections: a slide that Joba was going down head first, a wide walkway section to dive from and that connected to a giant round rubber trampoline that Sydette jumped into the water from doing backflips and cartwheels. All three were in a child's paradise of fun. Yani couldn't keep them from all the extra water toys they had, especially the bright colorful big-wheeled water tricycles, one of which Riki pedaled around on passing the mini island. There were also hover surfboards that kept them all occupied for days on end.
None of their kids wanted to the leave the lake, completely changing the other outdoor plans she and N'Jadaka made to take them back to all the wonders they experienced on the first half of their honeymoon. The little Udaku crew was content to spend an entire two weeks on the cove, disappointing a slew of Wakandans who wanted the rare opportunity to see the royal children up close throughout Birnin D'Jata. However, N'Jadaka was insistent that they all spend their last two days in Ekuqaleniso they would know the place where their people started.
Yani had to admit, she shared the best days of her life with the children and her husband those last two weeks. A part of her wished they didn't have to go back. Time away and alone gave her perspective and time to reconnect to her babies who were becoming something else with their individual personalities and pursuits. Birnin Zana was fast-moving and organized chaos compared to life on the water.
Settling down to nothing but family and fun, she and N'Jadaka observed how much the children had changed. Not just physically with Riki and Joba about to pass Sydette up in height in another year or two, but also their speaking voices. She barely heard the familiar lilt of the island patois in Sydette or Riki anymore. Even Joba started speaking with a Wakandan inflection with her English. Most days the children spoke nothing but Wakandan amongst themselves and switched to English just for her sake. Yani learned the language better each day, but she was no match for the fluency of her kids. It saddened her a little that they were comfortably shedding their accents. The more Wakandan they became she had to learn to accept there would come a day when St. Thomas and America were foreign and not really home to them anymore.
She'd noticed it in herself and Twyla too. No one could tell her cousin she wasn't a native Wakandan. From the fashion and food she indulged in, to the way she walked and muddled through her learning of the language, Twyla was a Birnin Zana citizen down to the bone. Period. She shed ties to home easily unlike Yani. St. Thomas, Our Lady's Manor in particular, was always going to be home for her and N'Jadaka.
"Hey, you guys shouldn't be out here by yourselves," Yani called out.
Riki paddled by on the big wheel kicking up a spray of water as he passed the houseboat. Sydette climbed back onto the trampoline and Joba sat at the top of the slide staring at them.
"But Mama," Sydette said squinting from the sunlight, "we tried waking you and Baba up for over an hour. It was too hot to wait for you. I'm watching Riki and Joba. I even made them breakfast and sprayed them down with sunblock."
Yani sucked her teeth at her own self. She was trying her hardest to break Sydette from the idea of taking on a mothering role for her siblings. Her eldest had been accustomed to doing that for Riki back in St. Thomas while Yani was attending school and juggling a tight schedule and Yani pushed back on it then relying on her Auntie and Twyla to mind that gap when she wasn't around. However, Yani remembered the pressure she was put under to be a second mother for her own younger sisters by force. Her parents hoisted that job onto her little girl shoulders when she was six years old and it never let up until she fell pregnant and was thrown out of her home. From the age of six through nineteen, Yani was often in charge of her sisters and working odd jobs for days at a time as her mother dealt with an errant philandering husband who she ran after to drag home to pay for bills he neglected. When things were good between them, her parents partied and drank too much, leaving Yani to feed her sisters hoping the adults didn't kill themselves from overconsumption of alcohol. Once they cleaned up and became holy rollers in the church, a new hell was bestowed on Yani. She had to become the perfect working daughter who contributed to the family household employed under the table by Aunt Leona once she turned fourteen.
Unlike herself, she wanted her children to have real childhoods and to not be responsible for anyone other than themselves. Without even questioning the role, Sydette took on the eldest daughter syndrome behavior and didn't even blink. Yani was going to break that pattern.
"Sweet Pea, thank you for feeding and watching Riki and Joba. Me and Baba are here now. No need for you to look after them. Hear mi?"
"Yes, Mama," Sydette said. "Did I do something wrong?"
Sydette's pinched face probed Yani's expression.
"No, you did wonderful. I don't want you missing out on your fun worrying about them.'
"Oh…okay!"
"Show us how high you can jump."
Sydette wiggled her hips and bounce-walked to the center of the water trampoline and began jumping. Yani followed N'Jadaka onto the separate portable deck where lounge chairs with umbrellas and a mini fridge that held cool drinks and chilled fruit waited for their usage. N'Jadaka sat down and reached for sunblock on the side table. He sprayed himself and helped Yani by spraying on her front and back. She reached into the fridge and pulled out cold strawberry mineral water for them.
"Living good Mrs. Udaku-Stevens," N'Jadaka said.
"Yes we are."
He reached over and patted her hand.
"Don't beat yourself up. The kids are fine. Okoye and Ayo have an eye on them in the sky too."
"I don't want Sweet Pea…she's a little girl—"
"Yani…baby…I understand your concern. They will live as children for a long time unlike you and me. We both had to grow up fast and take on a lot at early ages. Relax and enjoy them, alright?"
He kissed the back of her hand and she nodded, turning her head away so he wouldn't see her eyes water up. His immediate comprehension of what she was feeling gave her comfort.
"I'll do the cooking tonight with the kids if you want to take a longer nap today.'
"Thank you."
"Relax."
"Baba! Mama! Watch!" Sydette shouted.
Their eldest jumped high in the air three times before flinging herself backward into the water. Yani and N'Jadaka clapped.
"Lemme see you fly, Joba!" N'Jadaka called out to his youngest.
Joba grinned and crossed her arms in front of her chest before leaning back on the high slide. She slid down the wet plastic launch ramp that curled at the end, shooting Joba up into the air about four feet before she splashed down into the water. They clapped for her and settled on Riki zooming past on the water big wheel chasing after water fowl that lingered to catch scraps of uneaten snacks on the sunbathing platform.
Peace settled on Yani and she indulged in the safeness of that feeling. A ticklish nudging came to the back of her mind, like she was forgetting something important in regards to their children. Her mother hen instincts prevailed and she simply loosened up her shoulders and kept a watchful eye on healthy happy little Udakus. N'Jadaka sipped on his drink and put it down. He stood and flexed his arms.
"Wait…what are you doing?!" Yani screeched.
N'Jadaka snatched her up over his shoulder and jumped into the water with her. Their children hooted and hollered. Yani wiped water from her eyes and laughed with them.
"…so I thought the logical thing to do was to invite her to our pool/slumber party in order to show her that we were regular people too," Sydette finished with a sigh in her voice.
N'Jadaka helped supervise the children chopping up vegetables for their cranberry and glazed walnut salad.
"Maybe break up a few more walnuts Lil Man," he said to Riki.
Riki nodded and reached for a bag of walnuts and used a small hammer-shaped nut cracker to break up the nuts and place them into a bowl. Joba rinsed her hands and helped N'Jadaka cut up cooked and chilled lemon chicken cutlets into cubes. Sydette stopped breaking up butter leaf lettuce by hand and studied his face.
"Baba, can I ask you something serious?" Sydette asked.
"Go ahead," he said.
Sydette waited for him to look into her eyes.
"Does everyone outside of Wakanda think you're a bad guy? Is that why they talk so much about you by spreading lies?"
"Baba is a hero," Joba said.
"We know that," Riki said tossing walnuts into the bowl near his fingers, "but those people are stupid."
N'Jadaka paused his movement.
"Where are you hearing this from?" he asked.
Sydette glanced at her hands.
"Grandpop's vid screen. We spent the night with him before we left to come here. He fell asleep on the couch and we were looking for something to watch and we go onto the outer-net and saw all these news people talking about you," Sydette said.
"I see."
"Why are they so afraid of you? One lady said you would become a tyrant. That's bad, Baba."
"When people are afraid of more powerful people doing good work in the world, it interferes with their hunger for influence and use of that same power. They'll tarnish your reputation. It's a trick to get other people not to follow your example. Other leaders will say all kinds of horrible things about me to influence how others interact with my leadership around the world. The three of you should never worry about what those outsiders say about me."
"What about the people inside?" Sydette asked.
"No country is perfect. Neither is a king, queen, or president. Everyone has their own opinions, as is their right about how I run things here."
"But everything is perfect here. Who wouldn't like you?" Joba asked with a fretful tone.
He touched the beads at the bottom of her braids.
"People here are still getting used to us…me. Some things happened in the past that many are still not over—"
"Like your Baba going against his brother? And you trying to kill Uncle T'Challa?" Sydette asked.
"Or you being king?" Riki added.
Three pairs of inquisitive eyes clocked his expression.
"Those are things you three shouldn't even know about right now, but there was no way to keep it from you. That was all my fault."
"Umama said it's always best to know the truth to keep us from repeating the past," Joba said.
"She's right. But young children shouldn't know about murder and death so soon. Especially within our family."
"How were you able to forgive Uncle T'Challa for hurting you?" Sydette said.
"He tried to save my life and show me that we didn't have to go down the same path as our fathers who lived in fear of each other. Plus I had you three in my life, and your Uncle loved you all so much. He took care of you until he and Shuri found a way to save me. So you see, we changed our behavior toward each other and used love to heal our family. Your mothers pushed me to do better when I was lost."
"Did you have to kill Uncle T'Challa when you came back here?" Joba asked.
Her dark eyes watered and her lip quivered. He put and arm around her.
"I was in a bad place when I first came here. All I had was revenge and justice on my mind. Now when I think about it…had I known I had all of you…maybe I would've acted different. There were so many secrets and lies back then. But it's over now."
Sydette stared at him. Her eyes were shiny and she wiped a lid.
"I sometimes feel sorry for Uncle T'Chaka. He was so scared of Grandpa N'Jobu that he ruined the chance to have a bigger family and more happiness in his life. He did a bad…no…he did an evil thing to our grandfather. He kept Uncle T'Challa from growing up with you. You two could've been besties like you were before he went away with Umi Disa and Baba Z and all of our family who are gone now. Why couldn't he talk to Grandpa N'Jobu instead of killing him? Why didn't he bring you here? Everyone would like you then."
Sydette burst into tears and Joba joined her. Riki tried keeping it together but tears streaked down his cheeks too.
"Hey…hey…alright you guys…let's not talk about sad things on our family trip."
Sydette whimpered and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.
"I don't want people hating you," she said.
"Me neither, Baba," Riki huffed.
N'Jadaka took a deep breath and let the children feel what they felt without pressuring them to stop crying.
"Not everyone is going to like me or what I do for this country. But it's my job to worry about that. Understand?"
They gave him dutiful nods with wet eyes.
"Look at me. Do I act like I care what haters think of me?"
"But we care," Sydette said.
"It's why we want the pool party when we get home. To show our friends that you are a good person," Joba said softly.
"Are they saying stuff to you?" he asked.
"They hear things from their parents. So I figured we'd do some PR stuff to help your reputation," Sydette said.
"You guys should have a pool party because you want to hang with your friends."
"We do want to hang with them. I just thought it could help you too," Sydette said.
N'Jadaka clapped his hands and rubbed them together.
"I tell ya what. You guys are going to have the best pool party and slumber party gathering ever. Those parents are going to pray to Bast that they always get invited to anything you three plan because they're going to be so impressed with my swag!"
Sydette giggled from the tone of his voice and her glittery eyes had a smile in them too.
"Okay Joba?" he asked patting her hair.
Joba nodded and her face became calm again. Riki's chest shuddered, but he was back to himself.
"Me and Mama will handle all the bad press fine. Remember, they're just bullies who want me to stop helping people. Now… let's put this salad together and set the dinner table outside."
He assisted three little wet faces in tossing all the ingredients into the large salad bowl, and Joba poured a light cranberry balsamic over everything and he tossed it with big wooden spoons cracking jokes and cracking smiles back on his children's faces. By the time he placed buttered slices of whole grain bread on the table, the stressful conversation had been left behind.
"Go wake Mama up," he told Riki.
Riki zipped across the platform and jumped onto the houseboat. Joba and Sydette sat in their seats and watched his face.
"We good?" he asked.
Sydette leaned forward.
"Riki wrote a song and he wants to sing it for you and Mama. But he's shy about it," Sydette said.
"Riki shy? Since when?"
"It's his first song and he wants you to like it."
"We'll like anything he sings."
"But parents always say that. For real, Baba he wants you to like it because it's good and not because he's your son."
"Have you heard it?"
The girls both nodded.
"It's good," Joba said.
"We keep telling him to sing it for you, but he ignores us. If we pressure him, he'll never sing it. But if you ask about it…"
Sydette's eyebrows danced up and down on her forehead and N'Jadaka grinned.
Yani and Riki walked toward them and his wife looked rested and relaxed.
"Everything looks so nice," Yani said.
She sat down next to him and Riki climbed onto his chair. N'Jadaka served everyone their salad and bread and they said grace together holding hands.
"This is so delicious you guys!" Yani said stuffing her mouth with diced chicken and cherry tomatoes.
N'Jadaka watched Riki interact at the table and he wondered what kind of song Riki made. Their dinner meal was slow paced and he laughed a lot at all the ways his children delighted him. In his mind he bottled up the moment to reflect on later whenever the politics at home got to him. His time with the family was more important than fretting over the world.
By nightfall they went for a night hike offshore and gazed at the stars above the trees and ancient mountain ranges that were around before Wakanda even existed. They pointed in the direction of Ekuqaleni. His children walked in awe as shooting stars zipped across the night sky and admired the magnificence of the Milky Way galaxy bathing them in starlight. He held Yani's hand and squeezed it when the children squealed at seeing a meteor shower. Riki craned his neck to study the light show and N'Jadaka rubbed his son's hair.
"Riki, how is your songwriting coming along? Do you have anything we can hear yet?" he asked.
Sydette and Joba pretended to seriously be interested in the mountains and Riki touched his cheek with nervous energy.
"Dumpling you make a song? Oh, sing it for us," Yani encouraged.
Riki rocked on his heels and thought about it for a moment. He then hummed part of the tune finding his way into his creation before his sweet clear voice sang a song about Yani and N'Jadaka and how much he loved his parents. The lyrics startled N'Jadaka. He expected some boisterous interpolation of Riki's favorite band with Pemmy Yengeni. Instead it was an earnest original song with a catchy melody. Not only did the lyrics startle the king, but his son's strong voice caught him off guard too. Riki could really sing and not in the cutesy way children sang, but with the confidence of a seasoned pro. The singing genes bypassed N'Jadaka entirely and went directly to his son. The girls sang the chorus with Riki and their voices sounded lovely blended with their brother.
When Riki finished the last note, Yani cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him all over his face.
"That was beautiful Dumping, thank you for sharing such a special song."
N'Jadaka wiped at his eyes not expecting to get emotional about his child singing to him about how much he loved him. He could only hug Riki as his daughters clapped their hands with joy. They saw something amazing in their brother and wanted them to hear it.
The king treasured the night hike with his family and braced himself for their return to Birnin Zana. His honeymoon with Yani had been another trip of a lifetime and closing it out with his little ones had been icing on the cake.
When Okoye and Ayo met the family with the Royal Talon Fighter for their return trip home, N'Jadaka finally turned his kimoyo beads on all the way in-flight. The first two calls to come through right away first was a joint call with Mpilo and Tlotliso.
"We look forward to seeing you in person Kumkani," Tlotliso said.
Mpilo looked like he was ready to burst in his excitement at seeing the king for the first time in over a month.
"I need to reschedule some things my first week back. My kids have convinced us to have a pool and slumber party at the palace."
He sent over the date he needed free.
"I will take care of that. Shall we expect you in the office on Tuesday?" Tlotliso asked.
"Late afternoon. Mpilo, how's it looking on your end?"
"No major changes thus far, kumkani. We are just really pleased to see you again," Mpilo said.
"Okay. Until Tuesday. Thank you for holding it down."
Their images winked out and he walked over to the nearest viewscreen window where Yani and the children watched the skyline of Birnin Zana come into view.
The king and queen were back.
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