[lizbehave]

SINNERS MASTERLIST

Black Rain

A gritty, Neo-noir crime drama that explores themes of morality, brotherhood, and love.

Twin brothers Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore never return to Mississippi after World War I. Instead, they make a name for themselves during the height of the Harlem Renaissance, where number slips and jazz clubs fuel dreams. But when Smoke becomes enamored by a mysterious woman from New Orleans, he decides he wants to leave the game for good.

Prologue

Chapter 1

† The Priestess

A Slow-Burn, Smoke & Annie Backstory

Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

The Mile High Club

A Modern, Alternate-Universe, Sinners Story

A unique opportunity pulls Athénaïs "Annie" Alexander, a seasoned flight attendant with a harrowing past, out of her comfort zone, and into a world of danger, intrigue, and the orbit of some notorious twins.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Netflix & Chill

Modern Smoke & Annie Smut

Smoke and Annie have been seeing each other for a few months now. They’ve kissed, even done some heavy petting. Lately they’ve been spending more time together alone, each time getting hotter and heavier. But tonight? The side effects of a little weed and liquor turn their Netflix & Chill date into something freaky.

Read Here

[vampirecorleone]

"Popularity is so much better than being a social leper. Popularity is a job, Al, not a privilege. It's nothing but work and worries. Work to get in. Work to stay in. Get a clue." Costume Design Appreciation - Christina Milian in Love Don't Cost a Thing (2003) dir. Troy Byer

[icaseybaybee]

[uptownlowdown]

you really had people saying they didn’t know annie and smoke were a thing despite the literal sex scene, smoke going to their child’s grave, and their ending scene. you had people saying they didn’t get it because she looked more like his mother (HUH?) and that he should have “at least” been with someone who looked like pearline.

while we can and should acknowledge this is blatant misogynoir and fatphobia, it is an insidious form of mammification that has been present since the early days of film where black women, especially those who were heavyset, were not allowed to be seen as desirable. they existed to support others, damn their own wants, needs and desires.

to these people, sure these black women can be in the cast… but it’s usually more palatable when they’re the funny fat friend. but even allude that they are desired and people just can’t wrap their heads around it

[lizbehave]

Yeah, this.

Still convinced half of them are white people cosplaying Black people online and the other half just hate themselves. Still a waste of a sperm and an egg either way. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[yukiizip]

Wunmi Mosaku and her radiant smile, and her cute dance.

[studentmadeofmelanin]

Me everytime @kkbeauty86 @lizbehave @shereeluvssinners @moth2flamewriting @myheartsaysyes uploads new chapters 🤣 I’m on my way to the gym but when I get baaaaacckk, baby I’m SAT!!!

[lizbehave]

💜💜💜

[kkbeauty86]

My First Love Series

Chapter 4 (pt.3)

“One Call Away”

The next evening, the dinner rush is finally winding down.

The kitchen smells of butter, grilled steak, garlic, and fresh biscuits. The constant hiss of the flat top has settled into a steady rhythm, and the printer that had been spitting tickets nonstop all night finally grows quiet.

The silver boombox sits on the prep counter.

Quiet Storm fills the kitchen.

Then Dru Hill’s “Beauty” comes on.

Smoke smiles to himself as he wipes down the stainless-steel counter.

🎵 Walks by me every day…

Her and love are the same…

The woman that’s stolen my heart…

And beauty is her name… 🎵

Right on cue…The kitchen doors swing open. Annie.

Smoke looks up instinctively.

Their eyes meet. Almost immediately.

Neither of them looks away.

🎵 I’m hoping I can make you mine…

’Fore another man steals your heart… And once your beauty is mine

I swear we will never be apart🎵

Annie walks toward the service window with her ticket in hand.

She stops in front of the line.

A small smile finds her lips.

Smoke can’t help but smile back.

For a moment…Everything else fades.

The sizzling grills. The clatter of pans.

The conversations around them.

It’s just…Her. Her smile.

Those bright eyes looking back at him.

He swears she’s like a magnet.

Every time she walks into the kitchen…His eyes find her before he even realizes he’s looking.

🎵 ’Cause my eyes have seen the glory…In the coming of your smile… 🎵

Annie feels those familiar butterflies dance in her stomach.

She knows she’s staring.

She also knows…She doesn’t want to stop.

Neither of them breaks eye contact.

It almost turns into a silent challenge.

You look away.

No… you.

Across the galley, Lindsey notices.

She pauses with a tray in her hands.

Instead of interrupting…She watches.

Curious to see just how long they’re going to keep looking at each other.

Brandon notices too. He smirks to himself.

🎵 You are so beautiful…When I'm down and out (When I'm down) I never seem to get tired... (Tired of your love, ooh, tired of your love) of your love…You’re wonderful. I'm just dying to make you see Anything you want inside your heart (You can find right here inside of me)🎵

Smoke’s lips slowly curl into a grin.

Annie’s heart flips.

“Aye…” Brandon laughs. “You gon’ plate her food or not?”

Smoke blinks, finally pulled back into the kitchen around him.

He chuckles under his breath and starts plating the order.

Annie laughs quietly to herself.

Lindsey catches the smile.

Something about the way they look at each other makes her chest tighten.

She’d worked to break his walls down and still nothing.

He’d barely spoken more than a few words to her. He barely laughed or smiled at all.

Yet with Annie…He smiled. He teased.

He laughed. Like it came naturally.

Smoke slides Annie’s plates across the window…But leaves both hands resting on the edge of them.

Annie looks down. Then back up at him. She smiles.

This time…She doesn’t even try to grab them.

“You not gon’ take yo’ food?” Smoke asks with a grin.

Annie shakes her head. “Uh-uh. Take your hands off of it.”

Smoke raises an eyebrow. “Not till I hear that magic word leave them lips.”

Annie plants a hand on her hip.

A playful smile spreads across her face. “You don’t make nobody else say please.”

Smoke chuckles. “Here you go wit that shit. I don’t care about nobody else.” His eyes stay locked on hers. “Now say it…’Fore you keep that table waitin’.”

The words hit Annie harder than he probably intended.

I don’t care about nobody else.

Heat creeps into her cheeks.

Lindsey notices. She rolls her eyes.

Annie reaches for the plates anyway.

Smoke slides them back just enough that she misses.

She busts into laughter. “Oh my God…”

She rises onto her tiptoes, trying again.

Smoke laughs and lifts the plates just a little higher.

“Elijah…” Her tone is half warning…Half amused.

He grins. “Say it.”

She folds her arms dramatically. “Please.”

A satisfied smile spreads across Smoke’s face. “There you go. See? Was that so hard?”

Annie shakes her head. “Smoke…”

A smile slips through anyway. “Give me my food before I come around there and get it myself.”

Smoke laughs. “That a promise?”

She points at him. “No. It’s a threat.”

Both of them laugh.

Lindsey finally exhales loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Can I get my food too?”

The playful moment breaks.

Smoke immediately slides Annie’s plates the rest of the way to her.

She takes them with a grin. “’Bout time, Big Head.”

She hurries back toward the dining room.

Smoke watches her disappear through the swinging doors for just a second before returning his attention to the line.

He finishes Lindsey’s order and slides it across. Silently

Lindsey takes the plate. “Thanks.”

Her tone is polite.

Smoke simply nods and goes back to wiping down his station, while Brandon watches the whole exchange with an amused shake of his head.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t have to.

Everybody on the line can already see it.

Whatever was growing between Smoke and Annie…It wasn’t hard to miss anymore.

🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇

Saturday finally rolls around.

Devin is behind the wheel of her mama’s Malibu while Ebony rides shotgun. Annie and Rhonda are in the backseat.

The car smells like vanilla body spray, cocoa butter, and Bath & Body Works lotion. Ashanti plays softly through the speakers while all four girls sing along between conversations.

Devin glances into the rearview mirror at Annie and Rhonda. “So…Did y’all tell them to bring some friends or family?”

Rhonda groans dramatically. “Yes, girl! Damn. How many times you gon’ ask?”

Annie laughs. “Devin, watch the road.”

Ebony cracks up in the passenger seat.

Rhonda shakes her head. “You ’bout to kill us ’cause you too eager to meet some niggas.”

The whole car erupts in laughter.

Tonight, every last one of them came dressed to impress. Lip gloss shining.

Fresh roller sets and wraps.

Perfume lingering in the air every time somebody moved.

They finally pull into Kemper Arena.

The parking lot is already overflowing with cars.

Music blasts from open windows.

People laugh across the lot.

Groups of friends make their way toward the entrance wearing oversized jerseys, throwback tees, fitted caps, baggy jeans, Apple Bottoms, and matching Air Force 1s.

The girls climb out.

Devin slowly scans the crowd. “Damn…This game always bring the fine niggas out.”

Rhonda nods in agreement. “Hell yeah. I’m scoutin’ tonight.”

Annie laughs. “What about Tobias?”

Rhonda waves her off. “Girl, what about him? We just talkin’. He ain’t my man.”

Ebony laughs. “You always do the most.”

Devin shrugs proudly. “I’m supposed to.”

All four girls laugh as they join the long line wrapping around the arena.

Inside…The arena is alive.

Bass rattles through the speakers.

The smell of popcorn, nachos, hot dogs, and pretzels fills the air.

Thousands of people buzz with excitement while the players warm up below.

The girls finally find their seats.

Ebony sits closest to the stairs.

Next to her is Devin. Then Rhonda.

Annie takes the seat further in the aisle.

She points toward the floor. “There go Hot Sauce!”

Rhonda practically jumps. “He fine as hell!”

Devin laughs. “I came here just for him.”

Ebony shoves her shoulder. “Shut up!”

They all busts into laughter.

Just then…Kevion and a couple of his friends walk in two rows below them.

“Kevion!” Devin yells.

He turns around instantly. “Aww shit! There go trouble!”

The two groups start yelling back and forth across the rows.

Kevion laughs before climbing the stairs with one of his boys.

They stop beside the girls, joking and catching up.

Outside…Smoke parks his truck.

He, Stack, Tobias, and Stack’s homeboy Ramon climb out.

The arena lights glow against the evening sky.

Groups of women walk toward the entrance laughing.

Stack immediately starts looking around. “Damn…I see some fine bitches already.”

Tobias sucks his teeth. “Here you go, nigga. We ain’t even got in the buildin’ yet.”

Stack grins. “Shit… You know I’m on the hunt from the car.”

Smoke just shakes his head.

The four of them head inside.

Almost immediately…Heads turn.

Women whisper to each other.

A couple openly stare.

Stack smirks. “I told y’all.”

Smoke ignores all of it.

They begin walking up the stairs toward their section.

Then…Smoke freezes.

His stomach instantly drops.

Annie.

She’s sitting with her friends. Laughing.

Two dudes are standing beside them talking. One of them says something that makes Annie throw her head back laughing.

Smoke swallows.

There goes that feeling again.

That tight feeling in his chest.

He doesn’t know why…But he doesn’t like seeing another man being the reason she’s smiling like that.

Her laugh… Her smile…Somehow they already feel special to him.

As Kevion and his friend head back down the stairs, they pass Smoke’s group.

Both groups instinctively size each other up. Quick mugs. Nothing said.

Just enough for each side to know the other noticed.

Smoke barely pays them any attention.

His eyes are already back on Annie.

Almost as if she feels him looking…

She turns her head. Their eyes meet.

Just like always. The noise around them disappears.

Annie feels her breath catch.

There he is. Standing a few steps away from her.

Looking directly at her.

Only…Something catches her attention.

Standing beside Tobias…Is another man with the exact same face as Smoke.

She blinks. Then looks back and forth between them.

Confused. Smoke notices.

A slow grin spreads across his face.

He gives her a little nod.

Annie laughs softly to herself.

He got a twin?

He never told her that.

Tobias smiles. “Sup, Rhonda.”

“Hey, Tobias.”

Devin points between all of them. “You gon’ introduce the rest of everybody?”

Tobias laughs. “Yeah.”

He points beside him. “This Stack.”

Then Ramon. “This Ramon.”

Finally… He points toward Smoke.

“And this Smoke.”

Every girl immediately looks at Annie.

Her cheeks warm.

Stack notices.

He grins to himself before looking at the girls. “What’s good? What y’all names is?”

They all introduce themselves.

Devin suddenly looks between Smoke and Stack. “Wait a minute…Y’all twins?”

Stack answers sarcastically without missing a beat. “Nah. We cousins.”

The girls busts out laughing.

“So stupid,” Ebony says.

Stack laughs too before his attention drifts to Devin.

She is gorgeous. Tall. Long legs.

Petite frame. Beautiful caramel skin.

And she’s looking right back at him.

Damn…

Stack slowly looks across the rest of the group.

Ebony. Pretty smile. Light skin. Button nose. Slanted eyes.

Rhonda. Rich chocolate complexion.

Fresh short haircut. Bright white smile.

Then…Annie.

Stack pauses.

Her skin practically glows beneath the arena lights. Her curls bounce every time she laughs.

Those bright eyes…Locked on…

Smoke.

Stack follows her gaze.

Sure enough…His brother is looking right back. Smiling. A real smile.

One Stack has almost never seen directed at a woman.

His eyebrow slowly rises.

So…This the mystery girl.

A grin spreads across his face.

Well…She off limits.

His eyes drift right back to Devin.

Who’s still looking at him. “Damn…The whole crew sexy as hell.”

The girls laugh.

Smoke cuts his eyes toward Stack.

“You done?”

Stack smirks. “I was just givin’ compliments.”

Ramon quietly smiles at Ebony.

She notices and smiles back before looking away.

Rhonda looks at Tobias. “Where y’all seats at?”

“Three rows up. “

“Oh…So y’all close.”

The lights begin to dim. The crowd erupts. The game is about to start.

Tobias nods toward the court. “We’ll see y’all after.”

“Oh, we definitely gon’ see y’all after.”

Stack says, never taking his eyes off Devin.

She bites her lip trying not to smile. “Aight then.”

The fellas turn and head toward their seats.

Smoke glances back one more time.

Annie is already looking at him.

He smiles. She smiles back.

Neither of them says a word.

They don’t have to.

Somehow…They’re already speaking the same language.

As soon as the guys disappear up the stairs, Devin turns around so fast she almost bumps into Rhonda. “Oh my God!”

She grabs both Rhonda and Annie’s arms.

“All them niggas fine as fuck, y’all!”

The girls bust into squeals and laughter, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

Devin fans herself dramatically. “I was not prepared for that.”

Ebony shakes her head, still laughing. “Me neither.” She looks over at Annie. “Girl…I understand now.”

She points toward the section where the guys disappeared. “I’d be scared too.”

Annie covers her face with her hands, laughing. “I told y’all.”

Ebony nods. “Hell yeah. I see exactly why you ain’t call him after y’all met.”

Devin turns toward Rhonda. “And Tobias fine as hell too.” She pauses, shaking her head in disbelief. “Damn. It’s crazy every last one of ’em fine.” She grins. “But I need Stack.” She presses a hand against her chest. “I’m ‘bout to be actin’ shy like you, Annie.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “You so damn annoying.”

She can’t help but laugh anyway.

Rhonda laughs with them before motioning toward the court. “Shhh. Y’all…The game.”

They all turn their attention back to the floor just as the crowd erupts and the announcer’s voice booms through Kemper Arena.

The lights dim. The music gets louder.

And for a little while…

Basketball has everyone’s attention.

Well…Almost everyone’s.

Smoke tries to focus on the game.

The squeak of sneakers echoes across the hardwood while the crowd roars every time somebody gets crossed over. The announcer’s voice booms through the Arena, mixing with the bass thumping from the arena speakers.

But no matter how hard he tries…

His eyes keep drifting to the back of Annie’s head.

He watches her clap after every big play.

She jumps to her feet. “Go Hot Sauce!”

Smoke chuckles under his breath.

She really wasn’t exaggerating in that letter.

She loves sports.

She cheers at every big play, laughs when somebody gets embarrassed, and leans so far forward in her seat it’s like she’s on the court with them. He loves that.

Another thing they have in common.

Stack stands up with the crowd after another crazy dunk. “Let’s go!”

The whole arena erupts.

Annie glances over her shoulder.

Her eyes immediately find Smoke.

He’s already looking at her.

She blushes instantly before turning back around.

Smoke can’t help but grin.

About twenty minutes later, Annie stands.

“Where you goin’?” Devin asks.

“To get some food.”

“Oh, shit. I’m goin’ too.”

She hops up and follows Annie down the stairs.

Smoke watches them disappear into the crowd.

“I’ll be back.” He says to the fellas before standing.

Stack smirks to himself.

He already knows exactly where his brother is headed.

Smoke makes his way down toward the concession stand.

The smell of buttery popcorn, nachos, hot dogs, and soft pretzels fills the air. The line snakes halfway across the concourse.

Devin looks ahead and sighs. “Shit… this line long.”

“Yeah, girl,” Annie laughs. “But I’m hungry.”

Just then…A deep voice speaks from behind her. “You gon’ get me somethin’ too?”

Annie’s stomach flutters.

She’d know that voice anywhere.

Slowly…She turns around.

Smoke.

At that exact moment, Beyoncé’s “That’s How You Like It” starts pouring through the arena speakers.

🎶 I need a thug that’ll have my back

Do-rag, Nike Airs to match…Ain't nothin' wrong with that (That's how I like it, baby)

Where my thugs at?

White T-shirt, I love that🎶

Annie’s eyes slowly travel from the top of his head…Down. This time she really looks at him in the light where she can actually see without it being dark and without anyone blocking her view.

🎶The way you talk

The way you dress

The way you smile

I like the way you are

The way you ain't

I like your honesty, integrity

It levels me, so please don't ever change🎶

Smoke went all out today.

He’s wearing a Kobe Bryant Lakers throwback jersey over a crisp white tall tee.

A matching Lakers headband hugs his perfectly laid waves.

A sweatband wraps around one forearm.

Baggy Girbaud jeans hang perfectly over a fresh pair of purple-and-gold Air Force 1s.

A Jacob watch glitters beneath the arena lights every time he moves.

Diamond studs catch another flash.

Two platinum chains rest against his jersey.

Two platinum rings decorate his fingers.

His Cartier eyeglasses somehow make him look even better.

And then…His cologne reaches her.

Warm. Clean. Masculine.

It wraps around her before he even says another word.

🎶 I like the way you brush your hair…

I like the stylish clothes you wear… It's just the real things you do. That's why I wanna stick with you🎶

Annie forgets how to speak.

Lord…

He looks…Too damn good.

Those glasses should honestly be illegal.

He really got dressed today.

🎶 I hope you like my style

The way I dress

The way I flirt

Say yes. I hope you like my mind

The things I say🎶

Smoke notices the look in her eyes immediately.

A smug smile slowly spreads across his face.

Then it’s his turn.

His eyes slowly roam over Annie.

She’s wearing a Chicago Bulls jersey dress that falls perfectly against her frame.

Fresh black and red Jordan 13s.

The front of her hair is neatly twisted back into flat twists while the rest falls into soft, bouncy curls that brush her shoulders every time she moves. Gold hoop earrings swing gently as she turns her head. Her black Dooney & Bourke shoulder bag rests comfortably beneath her arm. A gold herringbone necklace catches the light against her skin. Gold bracelets softly clink together as she shifts.

And tucked into the cartilage of her ear…

That little magnetic earring.

🎶 I know you heard I'm a gangster

They say, ‘Stay away from them gangsters.’

They never change up, or pull they pants up

Well, baby girl, put ya foot down

Don't let 'em push you around, you know what you like🎶

Smoke’s heart pounds.

She always looks beautiful.

But today…She looks damn near unreal.

Like she walked straight out of one of those music videos everybody watched after school.

Devin looks Smoke up and down too. “Damn…”

She quickly looks between him and Annie.

The chemistry between them is so thick she almost feels like she’s interrupting something.

“What you say?” Annie finally manages.

Smoke grins. “You heard me. You gon’ get me somethin’ too?”

Annie giggles. “Yeah…What you want?”

Smoke laughs. “You know I’m just playin’. What you gettin’?”

“A hot dog…I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Get whatever you want, lil’ mama.”

Annie blinks. “Huh?”

“If you can ‘huh,’ you can hear. You heard me. Get whatever you want. I got you.”

Annie smiles nervously. “Smoke…”

Smoke raises one eyebrow. “Oh… now it’s Smoke? I see you tryna act brand new in front of yo’ lil’ friend.”

Devin busts out laughing.

Annie shoots her a look before looking back at him. “Elijah…You don’t have to—”

Smoke cuts her off. “What I tell you about that?”

Annie blushes.

Smoke steps a little closer.

Just enough that only she can hear him.

He leans toward her ear.

His voice drops into that deep bass she loves.

His cologne surrounds her again.

“Annika…Stop frontin’ in here. You know me. We ain’t strangers no more.”

A chill races down Annie’s spine.

Her stomach twists into knots.

He straightens back up.

Devin watches the entire exchange with wide eyes.

Oh… they got it bad.

Smoke looks over at her. “I got you too. Get whatever you want.”

Devin points to herself. “You for real?”

Smoke chuckles while looking back at Annie. “Yeah.”

Devin laughs. “Shit…You ain’t gotta tell me twice.”

Annie starts laughing.

By the time they reach the counter, they’re still smiling.

Annie orders a hot dog…Then popcorn.

Smoke nods toward the cashier. “Add two nachos.”

Annie turns around.

Smoke smirks. “Yeah. Get you some nachos too. They good as hell.”

Annie laughs and shakes her head. “You so extra.”

Smoke reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick knot of cash.

Without hesitation, he pays for everything.

The three of them start walking back toward their section.

Smoke carries the tray with the nachos while Annie balances the drinks.

As they walk, Smoke can’t stop looking at her side profile.

The arena lights catch her skin every few steps.

Her curls bounce as she laughs with Devin.

Annie tries to act like she doesn’t feel him staring.

He smiles to himself. “I know you feel me lookin’.”

Annie immediately laughs. “Stop. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

Smoke kisses his teeth. “There you go wit that. You gon’ have to get used to me lookin’.” He smiles. “You shouldn’t be so beautiful.”

Annie feels her face grow warm all over again.

She finally looks up at him. “Thank you, Elijah.”

Smoke hums in approval. “That’s better.”

They climb back up the stairs toward their seats.

Devin smiles. “Thanks again, Smoke.”

He nods once. “No problem.”

Then his eyes drift back to Annie. “See you afterwards.”

A grin spreads across her face. “See you.”

When Annie and Devin finally make it back to their seats, they’re balancing trays loaded down with food.

Rhonda’s eyes get wide. “Damn!”

She looks between the two of them. “Y’all got hella shit.”

Ebony starts laughing. “The hell y’all buy? The whole concession stand?”

Annie and Devin crack up as they carefully pass everything around.

Devin can’t even wait.

She points at Annie. “Annie’s man bought all this for us.”

Ebony’s mouth falls open. “Smoke bought all that?”

Devin nods. “Yep. He got it bad for Annie.”

She leans in with a grin. Y’all should’ve seen them flirtin’. I swear I felt like I was interruptin’ something.”

The girls immediately start squealing.

Devin keeps going. “He was callin’ her beautiful and shit. He could not stop lookin’ at her.”

Annie hides her face behind her cup, laughing. “Shut up, Devin.”

“Nope.” Devin points at her. “I ain’t lyin’.”She shakes her head. “Girl, you definitely upgraded from that nigga Ryan.”

Rhonda sucks her teeth dramatically. “Man…I should’ve known when he followed y’all to the concession stand he was finna spend some money.” She reaches over and steals a few pieces of Annie’s popcorn. “I missed out.”

Annie laughs and nudges her shoulder. “You snooze, you lose.”

The girls bust into laughter.

Devin shakes her head, still thinking about Smoke. “Nah, for real though.” She points toward the section where the guys are sitting. “You better hold on to that nigga. That’s one of the finest niggas I ever seen.”

She starts counting on her fingers. “He can dress. He smell good. He compliment you every chance he get. And not only did he spend his money on you…”

She gestures toward all the food spread across their laps. “He bought yo friends food too.”

She leans closer with a smirk. “Keep him, girl.”

Annie feels her cheeks grow warm.

She shakes her head, trying to hide her smile. “Y’all so damn extra.” But she can’t stop laughing. Deep down…

She knows every single one of them is right.

Smoke settles back into his seat with a bottle of water in one hand.

The game is back underway.

The crowd erupts after another ankle-breaking crossover, but before he can even sit all the way down…

Stack grins. “Aight…So we just gon’ act like we ain’t see what the hell just happened?”

Smoke keeps his eyes on the court “What happened?”

Tobias laughs. “This nigga.”

Ramon shakes his head. “You know exactly what happened.”

Smoke shrugs. “I went to get some food.”

“Yeah…” Stack says, drawing the words out. “You went to get Annie some food.”

The three of them laugh.

Smoke smirks but doesn’t answer.

Stack elbows him. “You bought food for the whole damn row.”

Smoke finally looks over. “So?”

“So?” Stack repeats. “Nigga, you don’t even buy me food.”

The fellas bust out laughing.

Smoke sucks his teeth. “You got money.”

“So do she,” Stack shoots back.

More laughter.

Tobias leans forward. “I ain’t never seen this nigga chase after nobody.”

Ramon nods. “He been watchin’ her the whole game.”

Smoke cuts his eyes toward Ramon.

“I been watchin’ the game.”

Stack lets out the loudest laugh yet.

“The game? Nigga, every time I looked over, you was lookin’ at Annie. You ain’t even know who had the ball.”

Smoke shakes his head. “Y’all doin’ too fuckin’ much.”

“Nah.” Stack points toward him. “You doin’ too much.” He starts counting on his fingers. “You been staring at her all night. You followed her to the concession stand. You paid for all they food.” He pauses dramatically. “And then…This nigga walked back up here starin’ at her the whole damn time.”

Tobias laughs so hard. “I peeped that shit too.”

Smoke can’t help but grin. “Aight damn. I was lookin’.”

“Damn right you was.” Stack says. “You was lookin’ so hard I thought you was finna walk into somebody.”

The guys crack up.

Smoke laughs with them this time. “Aight, man.”

Stack folds his arms. “So…You finally gon’ admit that’s yo’ girl?”

Smoke’s smile softens. “Nah. We just gettin’ to know each other.”

Tobias nods approvingly. “I respect that. But…” He smirks. “You definitely got it bad.”

Smoke looks down toward the court for a second before glancing back toward Annie’s section.

She laughs at something Devin says.

Almost like she can feel him…

She turns around. Their eyes meet from three sections away.

She smiles.

Smoke smiles right back.

Stack watches the exchange.

Then slowly looks back at his brother.

“Aww, hell.”

Smoke raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Stack laughs and points at him. “You gone.”

The fellas laugh again.

“Gone gone.”

Tobias nods. “I ain’t never seen this nigga smile this damn much.”

Ramon chuckles. “He different.”

Stack leans back in his seat, still grinning. “Nah…This ain’t just different.” He looks over at Smoke one more time. “I think my brother done found him one.”

Smoke doesn’t answer.

He simply glances back toward Annie one more time before returning his attention to the court.

The small smile on his face says more than any words ever could.

When the game ends, the arena empties in a wave of people.

The crowd spills into the parking lot, still buzzing about the crazy crossovers and dunks they just witnessed. Car doors slam, music starts blasting from every direction, and headlights cut through the chilly fall evening.

The girls make it outside first.

Not long after, Kevion and his friends spot them. “Aye!” Kevion calls out.

The girls stop to talk.

Annie laughs at something Kevion says, the sound carrying through the parking lot.

A few minutes later, Smoke, Stack, Tobias, and Ramon step outside.

Smoke instinctively starts scanning the crowd.

His eyes land on Annie almost immediately.

There she is. Standing in a circle…

Laughing with the same dudes from inside the arena.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly.

Who the fuck are those niggas?

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he keeps walking toward his truck like it doesn’t bother him at all.

He unlocks it, climbs inside for a second, then starts it.

Chingy’s “One Call Away” comes booming through the speakers.

The bass rolls across the parking lot.

The fellas post up. Leaning against the truck, talking while the song plays.

Smoke isn’t really listening.

His eyes drift back to Annie.

Just in time to see her hug the guy she’d been talking to.

His stomach flips. He swallows hard.

He doesn’t like that feeling.

Not one bit.

A few moments later, the girls finally head their way.

Devin grins. “Hey, y’all.”

Everybody exchanges greetings.

Devin’s eyes immediately find Stack.

She gives him a slow once over.

Stack is wearing a black Tim Duncan Spurs jersey over a white tee, baggy black jeans, and black-and-white Jordan 12s. Fresh braids frame his face, platinum shining in his mouth every time he smiles. A Rolex catches the parking lot lights while thick platinum chains rest against his chest.

He notices her looking.

A grin spreads across his face. “What’s good?”

Devin smiles right back. “Nothin’. What’s poppin’ with you?”

Stack chuckles. “Come find out.”

He nods his head, motioning for her to follow.

Without hesitation…Devin does.

The two of them wander off, talking and laughing almost immediately.

Smoke shakes his head. “That nigga don’t waste no time.”

Tobias laughs before turning toward Rhonda. The two of them quickly fall into their own conversation.

That leaves…Smoke. Annie. Ebony.

And Ramon.

Smoke and Annie lock eyes.

Neither of them says anything.

Chingy continues playing from the truck.

🎶 I seen it in her eye…

Mama lookin’ like all I wanted was sex…Then moved to the next (that ain't true) But it was something about this girl's style that make me feel no regrets🎶

Smoke slowly holds his hand out. “Come here. Come talk to me for a minute.”

🎶Afraid she might think I'm in a rush to touch, crush and be up

But baby, I ain't on that stuff🎶

Annie glances over at Ebony.

Ebony smiles knowingly. “Go, girl.”

Annie smiles shyly before slipping her hand into Smoke’s.

His fingers close around hers.

Warm. Gentle.

He leads her around to the back of the truck.

Ebony stays behind, chatting with Ramon.

Smoke lowers the tailgate.

The metal thumps softly into place.

They sit side by side.

Close enough that their shoulders brush every few seconds.

🎶If you're rolling with me baby, hop in, it's enough room

We can gaze at the stars and shine like the moon

Give me a chance to show ya and a chance to know ya

Just be true and there's nothing I won't do for ya🎶

A soft breeze drifts through the parking lot.

Annie’s perfume floats toward him.

Sweet. Light. Familiar.

Smoke smiles to himself. “So…You enjoy the game?”

Annie nods. “Yeah. I did.”

Smoke chuckles. “I could tell.”

She cuts her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You was hella into it. I heard you over everybody.”

Annie throws her head back laughing.

“Oh, whatever. You could not.”

“I definitely could.”

She clicks her tongue. “You could only hear me ‘cause you was lookin’ at me all night.”

Smoke pauses. Then laughs. “Damn. You right. I couldn’t help it though.”

Annie giggles. “Here you go, Elijah Blowin’ my head up again.”

“My bad.” He shrugs. “I’m just bein’ honest. You a magnet.”

Annie smiles. “So are you.”

Smoke grins. “Thanks. I see I almost made you pass out again today.”

She tries to hold in her laugh.

Fails miserably. “Damn. Just expose me, why don’t you?”

Smoke laughs. “It’s okay…’Cause you almost made me do the same.”

Annie raises an eyebrow. “Oh, please, Big Head.”

“I’m serious. I knew you was gon’ be lookin’ good as hell today…” He slowly shakes his head. “But shit…You exceeded what I expected.”

Heat spreads across Annie’s cheeks.

“I can say the same thing about you.” She smiles. “And why ain’t you tell me you had a twin?”

Smoke exhales through his nose. “‘Cause you ain’t ask.”

Annie laughs. “Oh, okay, Elijah.” She nudges his shoulder. “So what’s it like… havin’ a twin?”

Smoke leans back a little, looking up.

“Shit…That’s a loaded answer.”

He looks out across the crowded parking lot. “Maybe one day I can really go into depth. But to sum it up…It’s different than most sibling relationships. You share everything. So sometimes you struggle to figure out who you are outside of bein’ a twin. You got this bond…No matter what happen…It don’t break.” He smiles to himself. “It’s a blessin’…And a curse.”

Silence settles between them.

Annie thinks about his words.

“I get that.” She nods slowly. “Havin’ siblings is already hard enough. So I could only imagine.” She smiles. “Y’all do seem like complete opposites though.”

Smoke chuckles. “In some ways. But deep down… We mostly the same.”

Annie smiles. “That’s actually beautiful when you think about it. Always havin’ somebody in your corner.”

Smoke hums. “Yeah.” He glances at her. “You seem to got that kinda bond wit yo’ brother too.”

Annie looks over at him. “How you know that?”

“‘Cause I watched y’all at the rink.” He smiles. “And I hear how y’all joke every time we on the phone.”

Annie’s expression softens. “Yeah…We close. He’s one of my best friends.”

“I can tell.” Smoke hesitates for a second before admitting, “I gotta confess somethin’.”

Annie raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“At first…I thought he was yo’ man at the skating rink.”

Annie’s face scrunches up instantly.

“What? Eww. No.”

Smoke laughs. “Y’all was holdin’ hands and shit. I just assumed.”

She laughs. “Well…That’s what you get for assumin’.”

Smoke smirks. “Oh…So I guess I shouldn’t assume the nigga you was just huggin’ earlier yo man either.”

Annie looks confused…Then remembers Kevion. “Oh!” She laughs. “Eww, no, Elijah. Kevion just my friend. He’s like a brother to me.”

Smoke raises an eyebrow. “Y’all women love havin’ play brothers and shit.”

Annie smiles. “I mean…Relationships between a man and woman don’t always gotta be romantic. They can be strictly platonic too.”

Smoke thinks for a moment and there’s a minute of silence.

Annie breaks it “So you don’t think it’s possible?”

Smoke shrugs. “I don’t know. I ain’t never done it. And nobody around me has either. That ain’t sayin’ it can’t happen. It’s just…Different from what I’m used to.”

Annie nods. “Well…I’m here to tell you it can.”

Smoke smiles. “Aight then. I believe you, lil’ mama.”

Comfortable silence settles over them.

The music continues playing.

People laugh nearby. Car doors slam.

Someone starts another vehicle a few rows over.

Smoke glances sideways.

She’s looking everywhere…Except at him.

A grin slowly tugs at his lips. “You still can’t look at me?”

Annie smirks. “I can.”

His voice drops lower. “Prove it…Look at me.”

Her heart immediately starts racing.

She shakes her head.

Then…Slowly…She turns toward him.

Her eyes lift to meet his. Just for a second. Before they fall again.

Smoke smiles.

He reaches over gently and tips her chin upward with his thumb and index finger. “There you go.” He holds her gaze. “I need you to get used to lookin’ at me up close. Not just when we across the room.” His voice softens. “I wanna see these pretty eyes up close. We ain’t at work…So I can get lost in ’em now.”

Annie’s throat goes dry.

Butterflies erupt inside her stomach.

She can’t think. Can’t speak.

His sleepy eyes stay locked on hers.

Finally…He smiles. “You so pretty, Annika. Don’t be afraid to let me see you.”

Annie swallows. Then gives the smallest nod.

Before she can find the words…

Stack’s voice rings out across the parking lot.

“Aye! Y’all come around here and hit this blunt!”

Smoke sighs through his nose and lets his hand fall away.

“Saved by yo brother,” Annie teases softly.

Smoke laughs. “For now.”

He stands first, then offers her his hand. She takes it.

He helps her down from the tailgate.

Together, they walk back around the truck to join everyone else.

When they make it back around the truck, everyone naturally falls into a circle while Chingy’s “Holidae Inn” is bumping through the speakers. Cars are slowly pulling out of the parking lot, headlights sweeping across the pavement as people laugh, talk, and relive their favorite plays from the game.

Stack finishes rolling the blunt and sparks it.

He takes the first hit before holding it out toward Annie. “Aye, Annie.”

Before Annie can even open her mouth to politely turn it down..Smack.

Smoke knocks Stack’s hand away.

Stack looks at him like he done lost his damn mind. “The fuck?”

Smoke shrugs like it isn’t a big deal.

“Nah.”

Annie lets out a small, nervous laugh, surprised by how quickly he reacted.

Stack studies his brother for a second before shaking his head. “Aight then.”

He turns toward Devin instead. “Here.”

Devin grins. “Shit, don’t mind if I do.”

She takes a hit before passing it to Tobias.

Tobias inhales and passes it over to Rhonda.

Rhonda takes her turn before holding it out toward Ebony.

Ebony shakes her head. “I’m good.”

Ramon takes it next.

Then…He passes it to Smoke.

Smoke brings it to his lips and takes a slow pull.

He tips his head back slightly before letting the smoke drift from his mouth up his nose.

Annie quietly watches him.

She’d had a feeling he smoked.

He hustled.

And plenty of times after lunch breaks at Red Lobster, he’d come back with the other cooks wearing that same relaxed expression and those heavy, sleepy eyes.

For some reason…Knowing she was right makes her smile to herself.

It doesn’t make her think less of him.

If anything…It reminds her that he never expected her to do something just because he did.

He could’ve easily let Stack hand it to her.

Instead…Without making a scene…

He stopped it.

Something about that small gesture makes her heart soften.

He looked out for her without trying to embarrass her. She liked that.

More than she’d probably admit.

A few minutes later, the blunt burns down to nothing.

Rhonda suddenly reaches into her purse. “Oh!” She pulls out a yellow disposable Kodak camera. “Come on, y’all. We gotta get some pictures.”

Everybody laughs.

Tobias takes the camera first.

He snaps a few pictures of the girls together.

The flash pops brightly against the night sky.

Next…Rhonda takes a picture of all the fellas standing together in front of Smoke’s truck.

After that, she looks around.

A group of girls is standing beside a nearby car.

“Excuse me. Can you take one of all of us?”

One of the girls smiles. “Yeah, I got you.”

She walks over and takes the camera.

As everyone gets into position…

Her eyes linger.

Mostly…On Smoke.

Annie notices.

A strange feeling settles in her chest.

Not anger. Not exactly.

Just…Discomfort.

She suddenly realizes something.

If things between her and Smoke keep growing…Women looking at him…

Probably won’t be a rare thing.

He was fine.

She couldn’t even blame them.

That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Everybody finds their spots.

Tobias slips an arm around Rhonda’s shoulders.

Ramon kneels down in front of Ebony with a grin.

Stack turns toward Devin.

Before she knows what’s happening…

He casually rests a hand against her ass.

Devin busts into laughter. “You bold.”

“I know.” Stack says with a smirk.

Smoke steps beside Annie.

At first, he drapes an arm across her shoulders.

Then…Almost instinctively…

His hand slides lower until it rests comfortably around her waist.

He gently guides her in front of him.

His other hand settles lightly against her stomach.

Annie’s heart pounds so loudly she’s convinced everyone can hear it.

Smoke lowers his head slightly until it rests near her shoulder.

She can feel the warmth of his breath.

The girl holding the camera notices.

Her smile fades for just a second.

She quickly snaps the picture anyway.

Flash.

The moment is frozen forever.

Everyone thanks her before breaking apart.

The conversations naturally split back up.

Stack wastes no time. “So…” He looks at Devin. “You gon’ give me yo’ number or what?”

Devin smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They exchange numbers.

Not too far away…Ramon asks Ebony for hers.

She smiles before giving it to him too.

Meanwhile…

Smoke nods toward a quieter spot.

Annie follows him a few steps away from everyone else.

Smoke slides both hands into his pockets. “I’m gon’ call you later on. That aight?”

Annie smiles. “Of course.”

He nods. “Good.” A soft smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad I got to spend some time wit you today.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between them.

Neither seems to mind it.

They simply look at one another.

Finally…Smoke clears his throat.

“Can I have a hug before you go?”

Annie smiles wider. “Yes, Elijah.”

His dimples immediately appear.

He steps closer. His arms wrap comfortably around her waist.

Annie slides hers around his neck.

The moment they touch…Something shifts.

Neither of them expected a simple hug to feel like this.

Smoke buries his face gently against the side of her neck.

She smells like brown sugar and vanilla. Warm. Sweet. Comforting.

He closes his eyes for a second.

His arms tighten just a little.

Not enough to make her uncomfortable.

Just enough to silently say…

I don’t really wanna let you go yet.

Annie smiles into his shoulder.

She doesn’t rush to pull away either.

For a few quiet seconds…

The rest of the parking lot disappears.

Devin notices first. She elbows Rhonda. The two of them start giggling.

Stack shakes his head. “Aye, nigga!” He laughs. “Let her go before you squeeze her to death.”

Smoke and Annie break apart laughing.

He reaches down and catches her hand one last time.

Giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”

Annie nods. “See you.”

She reluctantly lets go and walks back toward the girls.

Smoke stays exactly where he is.

Watching her.

She glances back once before climbing into Devin’s mom’s car.

Smoke smiles to himself.

Only after the car disappears into the stream of traffic…Does he finally climb into his truck…

🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆

The next morning, a loud knock echoes through Smoke’s small house.

He groans, rolling over to look at the clock. 9:17 a.m.

“Damn…”

Another knock follows. More impatient this time.

Smoke throws the covers back, pulls on a white T-shirt, and walks to the front door.

The moment he opens it…He sighs.

“Monica.”

She stands on the porch with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Her lips are pressed into a thin line.

“We need to talk.”

Smoke steps aside.

She walks in without waiting for an invitation.

He shuts the door behind her.

She turns to face him.

“Shatara saw you at Skateland”

Smoke’s expression doesn’t change.

“…Okay. And?”

Monica folds her arms even tighter.

“She said you was all hugged up wit some girl.”

Smoke lets out a quiet breath. “So?”

Monica’s eyebrows shoot up. “So?That’s all you gotta say?”

Smoke shrugs. “What you want me to say?”

She takes a step toward him. “Now you wanna be hugged up and kissin’ bitches, but never wanted to be seen in public wit no bitch not even me. I wanna know who she is.”

Smoke shakes his head once.

“Nah. You don’t need to know that.”

Monica scoffs. “Excuse me?”

“I said… You don’t need to know.”

Her frustration grows. “Why? What make her so special you won’t even say her name?”

Smoke leans against the wall, completely unbothered.

“‘Cause it ain’t none of yo business.”

Monica laughs in disbelief. “It is my business.”

Smoke immediately shakes his head.

“No. It ain’t.” He looks her square in the eyes. “We ain’t together. We never was. I don’t owe you or no other woman no explanations.”

His words sting.

Monica looks away for a second before looking back. “So that’s it? You just movin’ on?”

Smoke sighs. “I’m livin’ my life. I never lied to you. I never told you we was together. I never promised you nothin’.”

Monica studies his face. “You really like her.”

Smoke doesn’t answer.

The silence says enough.

Monica feels her stomach sink.

“So that’s why you won’t tell me.”

Smoke exhales. “Monica…Let it go.”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t let it go. Shatara said you couldn’t keep yo fuckin’ eyes off her.”

Smoke chuckles under his breath.

“Yo friend need to mind her fuckin’ business.”

“My point exactly.” Monica snaps. “So who is she?”

Smoke’s expression hardens. “I said leave it alone.”

She folds her arms again. “I’ma find out.”

Smoke nods slowly. “You do what you feel like you gotta do. But don’t drag somebody else into this.” His voice is calm, but firm. “She ain’t did shit to you. We not together. So whoever I spend my time wit…ain’t got nothin’ to do wit you and if I find out you did anything to her. I promise I’m gon’ make you regret that shit for as long as you live.”

Monica searches his face one last time, hoping he’ll change his mind.

He doesn’t.

Smoke opens the front door. “I ain’t got shit else to say.”

Monica walks past him, stopping on the porch.

She looks back over her shoulder.

“I’ma find out who she is.”

Smoke meets her eyes.

“Or…” He shrugs. “You could just let it go.”

She doesn’t respond.

She climbs into her car and drives away.

Smoke watches her disappear down the street before rubbing a hand over his face.

“Damn.”

He has a feeling this conversation isn’t over. Not by a long shot…

Part 1

Part 2

Y’all Smoke has it bad. I know Smoke doesn’t smile but I wanted to capture how Annie is slowly changing him. It’s a natural reflex at this point. She also got my boy feeling jealous and ready to conquer the world for her. ‘I fear’ (in my Aniyah voice) Annie really is that girl. . Also Stack just overly going. Baby mama and all. 🥴😩😂

[lizbehave]

FAAAAACK every time I read this series I be feeling like

Because the memories it brings back are crazy!! Once again, the music is on point & the description of Smoke’s clothes — WHEW! It does something to me! I also love that Stack has braids too 😫

[kkbeauty86]

My First Love Series

Chapter 4 (pt.2)

“One Call Away”

Smoke leans forward. “Listen to me.” His tone is steady now. “What he did says everything about him and nothing about you. You hear me?”

Annie nods before realizing he can’t see her. “…Yeah.”

“No.” Smoke says gently. “I need to hear you say it.”

She smiles faintly despite herself. “…I hear you.”

“Good.”

Another quiet settles over the line.

This one feels different. Not awkward.

Comfortable.

Smoke finally speaks again. “I hate that you had to go through that.” His voice is sincere. “And I hate even more that you had to carry it around by yo self all day. I want you to know…” Smoke pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I’m proud of you.”

Annie’s heart skips. “Proud?”

“Yeah.” His voice is steady. “For standin’ yo’ ground. For not lettin’ nobody guilt you into goin’ back on yo’ word.” He lets out a slow sigh. “That shit ain’t easy.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment. Smoke continues. “You way too beautiful inside and out to let a nigga disrespect you or play wit’ you.” His jaw tightens just thinking about it. “You deserve the moon, the stars, and the damn earth, Annie. If a nigga dumb enough to cheat on you…” He shakes his head. “…then he never deserved you in the first place.”

Annie feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Nobody has ever talked to her like this before. Not her parents. Not Ryan. Not anyone. Smoke isn’t just telling her what she wants to hear. He actually sounds…Upset for her.

“You need a man that’s gon’ value you. A man whose actions match the shit that come out his mouth. Cause words don’t mean nothin’ if the actions don’t line up.” He exhales. “His actions already told you everything you needed to know. That nigga ain’t value what he had.” His voice softens. “How long was y’all together?”

Annie’s stomach twists. “Ten months.” She looks down at the blanket. “…Thank you, Elijah.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Smoke nods even though she can’t see him. “I don’t ever wanna see you look like you did today.” He pauses. .”I like seein’ you smile.” A small smile spreads across his own face. “And if I can be one of the reasons behind it…” He chuckles quietly. .”I’d like that even more.”

Annie closes her eyes.

There he goes again. Saying exactly what her heart needs to hear.

She doesn’t understand how someone she’s only known a short time can make her feel so… seen.

She smiles. “Thank you. I wanna make you smile too.”

Smoke lets out a low laugh. “Shit…You already do.”

That pulls a genuine giggle from Annie. “Especially now that I know you got dimples.”

Smoke laughs. “Oh yeah?”

She smiles wider. “Yeah. You just keep gettin’ finer.”

Smoke sucks his teeth dramatically. “Here you go. Blowin my head up.”

“Mhmm.” she says while laughing

He shakes his head, smiling to himself.“It’s nice hearin’ you laugh.”

“Is it?”

“Hell yeah.” His answer comes without hesitation. “I’ma keep you laughin’.”

Annie smiles so hard her cheeks begin to ache. “Good.” She lets out a small breath. “I need to laugh.”

“I agree.”

A comfortable silence settles between them.

Smoke breaks it. . “Annie.”

“Hmm?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“If he do anything else…” His tone becomes serious again. “I need you to tell me.”

Annie nods instinctively before remembering he can’t see her. “Yeah. I will.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

Smoke smiles. “Nah. I want you to say it.”

Annie laughs softly. “I promise.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m only one call away”Smoke finally relaxes. “Well… It’s gettin’ late. I hope tomorrow go a lil better for you.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles. “Have a good night, Pretty Eyes.”

A warmth spreads through Annie’s chest. “You have a good night too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Neither of them hangs up. The line stays quiet.

Neither one wants to be the first to end the conversation.

Eventually…Smoke smiles to himself and finally presses the button.

The line goes dead.

Smoke lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

His apartment is quiet except for the hum of the box fan in the corner.

He replays everything Annie told him.

Ryan. The cheating. The disrespect.

The tears she’d been trying so hard to hide.

Smoke clenches his jaw.

He didn’t tell Annie…But he isn’t lettin’ this shit slide.

He doesn’t know who Ryan is.

But he’s gonna find out. One way or another.

And if that nigga think he can keep disrespecting Annie or playin’ games with her feelings… He got another thing comin’.

He should’ve known or at least expected some nigga still lurking around. She’s too beautiful not to.

Smoke closes his eyes. She deserves peace. Real peace.

And for some reason…He suddenly feels responsible for protecting it.

That thought catches him off guard.

He frowns at the ceiling.

Since when did he start thinkin’ like this?

He’s never been the type to get wrapped up in one woman.

Hell…He never wanted to.

Never committed to anyone.

No feelings. No attachment. No problem.

But Annie…She isn’t like anybody else he’s ever dealt with.

The thought of another man hurting her makes something ugly twist inside his chest.

And the thought of someone else making her smile…He doesn’t even like that.

Smoke lets out a quiet laugh at himself. “Damn…” He rubs a hand down his face. “What the hell she doin’ to me?”

For the first time in his life…

The idea of holding onto one woman doesn’t feel like a burden.

It feels like a possibility.

🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆

The next day, Smoke is behind the wheel of his truck, headed to work.

The windows are cracked just enough to let the early fall air roll through as he cruises down the street.

His mind keeps drifting back to everything Annie told him the night before.

Ryan.

Smoke reaches for his Nokia and scrolls through his contacts.

He finds his cousin Nate’s number and hits call.

After a couple rings— “What’s poppin’?”

“Shit, mobbin’,” Smoke replies. “Aye…You know a nigga named Ryan that’s on the football team up at yo school?”

“Fasho. Everybody know that nigga. What’s good?”

Smoke’s grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel. “Shit… I got some static wit’ that nigga, and I need to handle that shit ASAP.”

“Damn. Y’all fonkin’?”

“Shit, hell yeah. I don’t even know that nigga…But it seem like he want it wit’ me. And you know me… I ain’t hidin’. I’m gon’ give him what he lookin’ for.”

Nate lets out a low chuckle. “Shit, I hear that. What you need?”

“I need you to point that nigga out to me.” Smoke glances in the rearview mirror before changing lanes. “I’m gon’ pop up in a few days when y’all get out. We gon’ post up… And you gon’ show me who he is.”

“Say no more. I got you.”

“Bet.”

“One.”

“One.”

The call ends.

Smoke tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and keeps driving.

His jaw stays set. He isn’t looking for trouble.

But if Ryan insists on bringing trouble to Annie…Smoke plans on making sure that shit ends.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

It’s 2:50 p.m., and the kitchen is already coming alive.

The grills hiss as fresh burgers hit the flat top, grease popping against the hot steel. The smell of onions, garlic butter, and seasoning hangs thick in the air while tickets steadily begin feeding through the printer.

Smoke is setting up his station for the dinner rush.

A battered silver boombox sits on the prep table, blasting a G-Unit CD loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear.

“Wanna Get to Know You” fades out as Brandon stands beside him chopping tomatoes, rapping every word like he’s in the studio recording it.

Smoke just shakes his head with a grin while seasoning steaks.

Brandon glances over. “So…”

Smoke doesn’t look up. “So what?”

Brandon smirks. “What’s up wit you and Annie?”

Smoke’s hand pauses for the smallest second. “What?”

Brandon laughs. “Nigga, you heard me.”

He points the knife at Smoke.

“Don’t think we don’t be noticin’ yo’ ass back here.”

Smoke fights the smile trying to spread across his face.

He focuses on arranging chicken breasts on the grill instead. “Nothin’, nigga.” He waves him off. “Damn. Maybe if y’all stop watchin’ me and cook, we can get this food out faster.”

Jesse, working the fryers, laughs without even looking up.

Brandon sucks his teeth.

“Nigga, I’m fast.” He points at everybody. “Y’all can’t keep up.”

Smoke snorts. “Yeah aight.”

Just then…The back door swings open.

Smoke doesn’t even realize he’s looking until he’s already looking. Annie.

She steps inside wearing her server uniform, carrying her apron over one shoulder.

She hangs her jacket on the hook near the office before turning toward the line.

Her eyes immediately find Smoke.

Neither of them smiles right away.

She simply mouths…”Hello.”

Smoke can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

He mouths back…”What’s up?”

She smiles to herself before disappearing into the dining room.

Brandon catches every bit of it. “Ohhh…”

Smoke ignores him. He keeps thinking about the way she just smiled at him.

About twenty minutes later…

Annie walks back into the kitchen to pick up one of her tables’ orders.

She waits patiently at the service line while Smoke works through the tickets.

Right then, the music changes.

The opening beat of G-Unit’s “Smile” fills the kitchen.

Smoke unconsciously starts nodding his head while calling out orders.

🎵 I wanna be the reason you smile…🎵

Brandon notices the timing and starts laughing under his breath.

Smoke ignores him.

Annie glances up. Their eyes meet.

Everything around them seems to quiet for just a second.

The printer still spits out tickets.

The fryer timer still beeps.

Servers still weave in and out of the kitchen.

But neither of them notices.

🎵 After you wipe away your tears and dry your eyes… 🎵

The lyrics hit differently after their conversation the night before.

Smoke finds himself wondering if she’s doing a little better today.

Annie smiles first.

Not the shy little smile she usually gives him. A real one. Warm.

Without thinking, Smoke smiles back.

His golds catch the fluorescent lights overhead.

🎵 Whenever I’m not around and you feelin’ down…Let the thought of me be… the reason you smile… 🎵

Annie’s stomach squeezes.

🎵 I don't wanna see you frown, like them kids watch a clown

I wanna bring you joy and be (be the reason you smile)

Baby, you know my style, you know how I get down

I provide by any means to be (be the reason you smile)🎵

Lord…Why he gotta smile like that?

Brandon looks between the two of them before letting out an exaggerated, “Mhmmm.”

The whole line hears him.

Smoke cuts his eyes sideways.

Brandon just keeps laughing.

Smoke shakes his head and goes back to plating Annie’s order.

He slides the finished plate through the service window…But doesn’t let go.

Annie reaches for it.

The second her fingers touch the edge…Smoke slowly slides it back toward himself.

A teasing grin spreads across his face.

Annie looks up at him.

Then she starts laughing. “What?”

Smoke leans against the line. “Say please.”

Annie blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs. “Say it. Or I ain’t givin’ it to you.”

Annie clicks her tongue, trying to look annoyed. It doesn’t work.

Her smile is way too big.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“Pleeease…” She pauses just long enough to make him wait. “…Elijah.”

The second his real name leaves her mouth… Smoke’s chest tightens.

Damn. He likes hearing her say it way more than he should.

Trying not to smile too hard, he finally slides the plate back toward her.

Annie grabs it. She turns to leave.

Smoke calls after her. “No thank you?”

She glances back over her shoulder with that same mischievous grin.

“Uh-uh.” Then she walks away laughing.

Smoke watches her disappear through the swinging doors.

He shakes his head, chuckling quietly to himself.

Brandon immediately starts clowning.

“Ohhh…” He points toward the dining room. “So she can call you Elijah now?”

Jesse busts out laughing. “So that’s what we doin’?”

The entire line joins in.

Smoke just keeps smiling to himself while wiping down the counter. “Y’all worry ’bout these damn tickets.”

Brandon laughs even harder. “Nigga…You ain’t deny it.”

Smoke doesn’t answer.

He simply looks toward the swinging doors one more time, hoping Annie comes back through.

Standing a few feet away, Megan quietly watches the entire exchange while stocking salads.

She notices the smiles. The teasing.

The way Smoke’s whole demeanor changes whenever Annie walks into the kitchen.

A small smile tugs at her lips.

Well… That explains a lot.

Without saying a word, she grabs another tray and heads back to work, deciding she’d rather watch this play out than ask any questions.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Later that night, Smoke is stretched across his bed with one arm behind his head.

He stares at the ceiling for a minute before reaching over to the nightstand.

His hand wraps around the cordless house phone.

Without thinking, he dials Annie’s number. It’s crazy.

He’s only called it a few times

And somehow he already knows every digit by heart.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

Across town, Annie has just stepped out of the shower.

The scent of cocoa butter fills her room as she towels off her damp curls.

She walks into her room and her cell phone rings on the bed.

She frowns. She doesn’t recognize the number. Her stomach knots. Ryan?

Surely…He ain’t that crazy.

She hesitates before finally answering. “Hello?” A pause. “Who is this?”

Smoke chuckles. “It’s me, Pretty Eyes.”

Annie’s eyebrows lift. “Oh.”

Smoke grins. “My bad. This my house phone. Save it in yo phone too.”

She smiles. “I will.”

“So…” Smoke settles deeper into his pillow. “What you doin’?”

“Just got out the shower.”

Smoke swallows. His mind immediately paints a picture he has no business picturing.

He clears his throat. “I see. So…Was yo day better today?”

Annie smiles. “Yeah… for the most part. How was yours?”

“Shit… My day was good.” He pauses.

“Especially ’cause I got to see you.”

Heat rushes into Annie’s cheeks.

“Elijah…” She laughs softly. “Stop playin’ with me.”

Smoke smiles to himself. “I’m not playin’.”

She bites her lip. “Do you talk to every girl like this?”

Smoke’s smile fades. “Nah. I don’t.”

Annie clicks her tongue. “Whatever, Elijah. I don’t believe that.”

Smoke lets out a quiet grunt. “One thing about me…I don’t lie. So when I say somethin’…I mean it.”

Annie hums softly.

But she doesn’t answer.

Smoke already knows why. “You don’t believe me… Do you?”

Annie sighs. “I don’t know. You seem too good to be true.”

Smoke smiles. “I’ll take that. But the same can be said about you.”

Annie shakes her head. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

His voice grows more serious. “Annika.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop doin’ that.”.

“Stop doin’ what?”

“Downplayin’ yo self. You say all these good things about everybody else..But when it come to you…You act like you don’t deserve none of it.”

His words catch Annie off guard.

She isn’t used to someone paying attention to the way she talks about herself. “Okay…”

She smiles. “But can I ask you somethin’?”

“Anything.”

She hesitates. “Why do you say all these nice things to me…And nobody else?”

Smoke is quiet for a moment.

Long enough to really think about it.

“The truth is…I don’t know.” He laughs softly. “It’s just… Somethin’ about you… You make me want to. I’m really just sayin’ how I feel.” He smiles. “I get happy when I talk to you…When I see you.”

Annie can’t stop smiling.

That answer feels…Real.

“I got another question.”

Smoke laughs. “I see you full of ’em today.”

She giggles. “I don’t have any girls I need to worry about… Right? No recent ex-girlfriends?”

Smoke grows thoughtful.

He knows this answer matters.

“No. I ain’t got no ex-girlfriends. I ain’t really done relationships as a grown man. I didn’t do ’em in high school neither.” He exhales. “Now… Do I mess around? The truth is…Yeah. I ain’t tied down to nobody. And I haven’t been.”

The smile slowly fades from Annie’s face.

Part of her is relieved. Another part…

Feels uneasy.

“Why haven’t you done a relationship? You a player or somethin’?”

Smoke laughs. A genuine laugh. “Nah. A playa lies. I don’t.” He shrugs. “Relationships just ain’t been my focus. I got dreams I’m chasin’. I got work. I got hustles. I always told women exactly what it was.”

Annie goes quiet. “…Oh.”

That’s it. Just… “Oh.”

Smoke immediately notices.

The warmth that had been in her voice moments ago…Is gone.

His stomach sinks.

Damn. I scared her.

“That’s it? No more questions?”

“No.”

He smiles to himself. “Don’t lie to me. If there’s somethin’ you wanna know…Ask.”

“I…”She stops herself.

Smoke closes his eyes.

He already knows. “You scared I just want one thing from you…Ain’t you?”

Silence.

Annie swallows. “…Yeah Smoke”

She notices she called him Smoke instead of Elijah. She hadn’t even realized it.

Smoke notices too.

And the distance in it makes something tighten in his chest.

Annie finally lets everything out.

“Growing up…My dad always told me a lotta men play games. They only want one thing.” She sighs. “Fine niggas like you… They always got a lotta women. That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t wanna be in the mix. I’m not that type of girl.”

Smoke shakes his head. “I know you ain’t.” His voice is gentle. “The only thing I want from you… Is to get to know you. I wanna see where this goes. You got my attention. Ain’t nobody else got it.” He pauses. “Right now…My life consist of work…Hustlin’… Chasin’ a dream and when I get done wit all that…” He smirks. “I come home… And call you.”

Annie feels her chest loosen.

“I hope me bein’ honest ain’t scare you. I just wanted to answer yo questions truthfully.”

A slow smile returns to Annie’s face. “Okay.”

“You good?”

“Yeah.” She laughs softly. “I’m good.”

Smoke finally exhales. “Good. ‘Cause I would’ve hated to mess this up.”

Annie’s heart melts a little. “You didn’t.”

He smiles. “Now…My turn.”

She giggles dramatically. “Oh Lord. What you wanna know?”

“Yo parents still together?”

“Mhmm.”

“How many siblings you got?”

“I got six.”

Smoke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Six?”

She laughs. “Yep.”

“Who the oldest?”

“Me.”

“Damn, Shorty. So you basically helpin’ raise all them.”

She laughs. “Unfortunately. I love ’em…But they bad as hell. What about you?”

“I got one brother.”

“Oh.”

Just then—Knock. Knock. “Hold on.”

She lays the phone on the bed.

Smoke listens without even pretending not to.

He hears Annie greet her mother.

Then hears every word about helping with her little sister’s hair. Helping her dad.

Her mom leaving for two weeks.

Helping Edward with the younger kids.

By the time the bedroom door closes again…

Smoke understands.

No wonder she always seems tired.

No wonder she carries herself the way she does. She’s been carrying everybody else for a long time.

Annie picks the phone back up. “Hello?”

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

She laughs. “You was eavesdroppin’?”

“Damn right.”

Annie busts into laughter. She covers her mouth. “Elijah…You a mess.”

“I know.” He grins. “You do a lot, huh?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I do. But enough about me.” She smiles. “Did Tobias ask you about the And1 game next weekend?”

“He did. We already got our tickets.”

His eyebrows lift. “What? You goin’ too?”

“Of course. I’ve been the last two years.”

Smoke laughs. “Damn. Me too. I’m surprised I ain’t never seen you.”

“I know, right?”

He smiles. “Well…I hope I see you this time.”

Annie grins. “You will.”

Smoke’s heart skips. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.” She smiles to herself. “Just don’t be starin’ at me the whole time.”

Smoke laughs. “Shit… I ain’t makin’ no promises.”

Annie shakes her head, smiling. “I knew you was gon’ say that. And I already know you gon’ catch me lookin’ at you too.” She goes quiet for a second. “…Maybe.”

Smoke grins. “I’ll take a maybe.”

Another comfortable silence settles between them. Neither of them rushes to fill it.

Neither of them wants to hang up.

Smoke smiles into the receiver. “Guess I’ma have to give you another reason to smile tomorrow.”

Annie bites her lip. “I guess we’ll see.”

“You will.”

His confidence makes her laugh again.

“There go that laugh.” Smoke says softly. “Told you I was gon’ keep you laughin’.”

Annie smiles into the phone. “Good night, Elijah.”

His chest warms. “Good night, Pretty Eyes.”

This time…Neither of them hangs up right away. They simply stay on the line…

Smiling…

Listening to each other’s breathing…

Until one of them finally finds the strength to hang up.

🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇

It’s Wednesday evening of the following week

Smoke pulls into the parking lot at Hickman Mills just as football practice is letting out.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Players spill out of the field house laughing, helmets tucked beneath their arms, shoulder pads still strapped on.

Smoke leans against the side of his truck with his arms folded across his chest.

His cousin had pointed Ryan out on Monday.

So today…There wouldn’t be any guessing.

A few minutes later, Ryan walks out in his practice uniform with Dana beside him.

Smoke pushes himself off the truck.

His expression never changes.

He walks straight toward them.

Ryan notices him first.

His conversation trails off.

Smoke sizes him up from head to toe.

Light-skinned. Lanky build. Fresh fade.

Handsome. He doesn’t look intimidating.

Dana’s eyes drift over Smoke for a second longer than she intends. He’s easily one of the finest men she’s ever seen.

Smoke stops a few feet away. “Aye…You Ryan?”

Ryan looks confused. “…Yeah. Why?”

Smoke nods once. “I heard you was lookin’ for me.”

Ryan frowns. “I don’t even know you.”

“You right. You don’t.” Smoke’s eyes harden. “But I heard you wanted to fight the nigga that kissed Annie.” He points to himself. “That’s me. Smoke” A moment passes. “So… What’s up? I’m here.”

Ryan blinks. His eyes flick toward Dana before landing back on Smoke.

Dana folds her arms. “What the hell he talkin’ about?”

Ryan shakes his head a little too quickly.

“I don’t know.”

Smoke lets out a humorless laugh. “Nah. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You wrote Annie that disrespectful ass letter. Cryin’ like a bitch ‘cause you finally realized she wasn’t comin’ back. And at the end of it…You said you wanted to fight me.”Smoke shrugs. “So I figured I’d save you the trouble of wonderin’ where to find me. I’m here to see if you really about what you said in that letter. Nigga you know we from the show me state. I don’t play around wit threats. I really will take it how far you wanna go.”

Ryan’s face tightens. “She lyin’.”

Smoke stares at him.

Expressionless. “Oh…So now she lyin’.” He tilts his head. “So you ain’t spray paint ‘hoe’ on her locker either?”

Ryan’s eyes dart away for the briefest second.

Dana notices. Her eyebrows knit together. “Wait…That was you?”

Ryan looks at her immediately. “Nah. It wasn’t me.”

Dana doesn’t look convinced.

Smoke shakes his head slowly. “I figured this was how it was gon’ go. I knew you was gon’ bitch up.” He steps a little closer. Not aggressively. Just enough that Ryan has to look at him. “You real loud when it’s a woman. But when it’s time to stand on what you said…when it comes to a man, you real quiet.”

He lets the sentence hang.

Ryan swallows.

Smoke steps directly into his face.

Damn near nose to nose.

Smoke’s voice stays calm. Almost too calm.“Listen to me. Leave Annie the fuck alone. No more letters. No more calls. No more embarrassin’ her. No more games. She’s made it clear she’s done…if she tells me you’ve done any of the sort…Then I’m makin’ a trip back up here and we gon’ make them words you put in that letter come to fruition my nigga.”

Ryan doesn’t answer. He can’t.

The confidence he’d carried walking out of practice is completely gone.

He never expected the guy Annie kissed to actually show up.

Much less stand in front of him this calmly.

Or make it this clear that Annie wasn’t dealing with everything by herself anymore.

Smoke holds his gaze for another long moment.

He sees nothing but fear in his eyes.

Ryan can’t meet his eyes for more than a second before looking away.

Smoke gives a small shake of his head.

“That’s what I thought.”

He turns and walks back toward his truck without another word.

Dana watches him leave before slowly looking back at Ryan.

Disappointment is written all over her face.

Ryan remains rooted to the pavement.

His heart still racing.

For the first time…It really sinks in.

Annie had really moved on.

And whoever “Smoke” was…

He wasn’t a man Ryan was eager to cross again.

✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚

The next day after school, Annie is in the newspaper room with Ebony, putting the finishing touches on an article before the next edition goes to print.

The room is quiet except for the tapping of keyboards and the hum of the computers.

Annie rereads her last paragraph, making a few edits before saving her work.

Ebony suddenly leans over. “Girl…Guess what?”

Annie glances up from the screen. “What?”

Ebony grins. “I heard yo’ nigga Smoke came up here yesterday and checked the fuck outta Ryan.”

Annie’s fingers freeze on the keyboard.

Her stomach drops. “What?”

“Mhmm.” Ebony nods enthusiastically.

“Girl, had that nigga shook.”

Annie blinks a few times, trying to process what she just heard. “How you find this out?”

“Shit,” Ebony says with a laugh. “Dana was there and you know she went and told her little friends. They couldn’t hold water if they was a bucket.”

Annie leans back in her chair.

Her mind immediately starts racing.

Elijah…He actually came up here?

A part of her is shocked.

Another part…Can’t stop thinking about the promise he’d made over the phone. “If he do anything else… I need you to tell me.”

He’d never told her what he planned to do with that information.

She isn’t sure whether she should be flattered…Or upset.

She’s never had a man stand up for her like that before.

Usually, people expected her to deal with everything herself.

To ignore it. To move on.

Instead…Smoke had listened.

And then he did something about it.

Ebony snaps her out of her thoughts.

“You knew he was comin’ up here?”

Annie quickly shakes her head. “No, girl. As a matter of fact, I told him I ain’t want no problems.” She pauses before asking, “Do you know what he said to Ryan?”

Ebony nods. “Apparently he told him to leave you alone…And if he didn’t stop…He was gon’ come back up here and beat his ass.” She shrugs. “In so many words.”

Annie lowers her eyes to the desk.

Before she can stop it…A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

Ebony catches it immediately.

She points at her. “Hold up. You actually like that shit?”

Annie tries to hide it. She can’t.

A laugh slips out instead.

“Actually…” She smiles. “I do.”

She shrugs. “I mean…Ryan disrespectful as hell. What he did was bullshit.” Her smile softens. “I just…” She exhales. “I hope he finally leaves me alone now.”

Ebony nods slowly. “I guess.”

Annie’s smile fades. She turns fully toward her. “Ebony…I don’t know what the fuck yo’ problem is. Ever since me and Ryan broke up, you been on some weird shit whenever Smoke come up.”

She shakes her head. “As my friend You supposed to be on my side.” Her voice isn’t loud. But it’s firm. “Ryan the one who hurt me. Not the other way around.”

Ebony immediately drops her eyes.

She sighs. “You right. My bad.”

She rubs the back of her neck.

“I am on your side. I just…” She shakes her head. “I really loved y’all together. I guess I kept hopin’ he’d get his shit together.” She looks back at Annie. “But he didn’t. And that ain’t fair to you. I’m sorry. I have been trippin’. I promise I’ma do better. I’ma support you.”

Annie studies her friend’s face for a long moment.

She can hear the sincerity in her voice. Slowly… She nods. “Okay.”

She decides to believe her.

Still…As she turns back toward her computer, her thoughts drift to Smoke.

She can almost picture him standing outside the school, calm as ever, confronting Ryan without ever telling her beforehand.

Part of her wants to fuss at him for taking matters into his own hands.

The other part…The part she’d never admit out loud…Feels something warm bloom inside her chest.

For the first time in her life…

She knows what it feels like to have someone stand beside her instead of expecting her to stand alone.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Later that night, Smoke and Annie are on the phone again.

At this point, it’s become a routine.

Every night around the same time, Smoke calls her.

Neither one says it out loud…

But both of them look forward to it all day.

Smoke is lying across his bed with one arm behind his head, absently spinning a pen between his fingers.

Annie is curled up beneath her comforter, her homework already finished.

The conversation slows for a moment. “Elijah?”

Smoke immediately smirks. “Uh-oh. What’s up? I know that tone.”

Annie giggles. “Mhmm…” She lets the silence build for another second. “Did you come up to my school to check Ryan?”

Smoke stills. His pen stops spinning.

So the bitch-ass nigga snitched.

He lets out a quiet breath. “Yeah. I did.”

Annie groans dramatically. “Elijah…I said I ain’t want any problems.”

“I know.” His voice stays calm. “And neither did I. That’s exactly why I went up there. I needed to make sure he ain’t have a problem wit’ me…” He pauses. “Or you… And he don’t. He ain’t gon’ bother you no more.”

Annie shakes her head even though he can’t see it. A smile slowly spreads across her face.

She honestly doesn’t know what to do with this man.

He hears one thing…Then goes and handles it.

“You somethin’ else.” She laughs. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Smoke chuckles. “Say thank you.”

Annie’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“You heard me, Shorty.”

She laughs harder. “Uh-uh, Big Head. I’m not.”

Smoke sucks his teeth. “Oh yeah? Aight. See if I do anything else for you.”

Annie clicks her tongue. “You will.”

Smoke laughs. “Oh yeah?”

“I love yo confidence.” He smiles to himself. “That’s the Annie I love to see.”

His words hit her square in the chest.

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until her cheeks start hurting.

All she can do is let out a little sigh.

Smoke smiles, hearing it through the phone. “I wish you worked today.”

Annie raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“’Cause…I miss seein’ that pretty ass smile. And them bright eyes.” He pauses. “I wish you worked every day, truthfully.”

Annie laughs. “Oh…So you want me to be a slave?”

Smoke laughs with her. “Nah. Never that. I just need you to bless my eyes.”

Annie shakes her head, smiling.

“Elijah…There’s plenty of other women in there to do that.”

Smoke laughs. A real laugh.

The kind that comes from his stomach. “You funny as hell. I like that.”

Now Annie’s laughing too. “What? What’s funny?”

“Yo ass.”

She smiles. “I was serious.”

“Nah. You wasn’t. You know better.”

She narrows her eyes. “What do I know?”

Smoke grins. “You know I ain’t even know no other women worked there besides you.”

Annie’s cheeks instantly warm. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah. That’s news to me. I’m just findin’ that out right now.”

Annie throws her head back laughing.

“Well played, Smoke.”

Smoke points toward the phone like she can see him. “It’s Elijah to you. Watch it.”

Annie bites her lip to stop another smile.

“Oh…My bad… Elijah.”

“There you go.” Smoke nods proudly. “That’s better…Annika. So…You got yo fit for Saturday?”

“Of course.”

Smoke hums in approval. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Is that right?”

“Fasho. I love the way you dress.”

Annie blinks. “You do?”

“Most definitely. I love seein’ you outside them work clothes. I ain’t gon’ lie…You got style lil mama.”

Annie laughs softly. “Elijah…See? You be talkin’ about I be blowin’ yo head up. You blow mine up.”

Smoke lets out a chortle. “I’m just speakin’ the truth.”

“If you say so.” She smiles to herself. “Truth is…I love the way you dress too. I be speechless every time I see you.”

Smoke smirks. “I can tell.”

Annie clicks her tongue. “How?”

“I see the way you be lookin’.” He laughs. “You be lookin’ like you wanna pass out.”

Annie cackles so hard she has to pull the phone away from her ear.”Oh, whatever, Big Head.”

Smoke laughs right along with her.

“I ain’t lyin’. You just don’t realize yo face be tellin’ on you.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

She smiles. “Agree to disagree.”

Smoke grins. “I’ma let you have this one.”

Just then, there’s a knock at Annie’s bedroom door before it slowly opens.

Edward sticks his head inside.

“Damn. You still on the phone?”

Annie nods. “Mhmm.”

Edward notices the smile stretched across her face. A slow grin spreads across his own. “Yeah…I can tell.”

Annie immediately rolls her eyes. “Boy, what?”

Edward folds his arms.

“Ain’t never seen you smile this damn much.” He glances at the phone. “That’s Smoke, ain’t it?”

Annie’s cheeks instantly turn pink. “Mind yo business.”

Edward laughs. “Nah. I’m just sayin’…My sister over here cheesin’ hard as hell. I know it’s serious.”

Annie throws a pillow at him. “Get out!”

Edward catches it, laughing.

“Aight, aight.” He points toward the phone.

“Tell Romeo I said what’s up.”

Annie groans. “Oh my God…Ed!”

He laughs all the way down the hallway.

Smoke heard every bit of it. He can’t stop smiling. “So…” He chuckles. “Romeo, huh?”

Annie buries her face in her pillow. “Don’t start.”

Smoke laughs. I ain’t say nothin’.”

“You was finna.”

“I was thinkin’ about it.”

She shakes her head. “You terrible.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll let you get back to yo family. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow too.”

“Goodnight, Pretty Eyes.” His voice softens just enough to make her stomach flutter. “

Goodnight…” She smiles. “Elijah.”

Neither of them says anything for another second.

Neither of them wants to hang up.

Finally…

Smoke smiles to himself. “Sweet dreams, Annika.”

Annie’s heart does that little flip it always does when he says her name. “You too.”

Click.

Even after the line goes dead…

Both of them are still smiling.

Part 3

[kkbeauty86]

My First Love series

Chapter 4( pt.1)

“One Call Away”

It’s Sunday morning.

The house phone rings, breaking the silence.

Smoke groans and rolls over, blindly reaching across the nightstand until his hand finds the receiver.

He answers without even opening his eyes. “What it is?”

Stack’s voice comes through the other end. “Aye, me and Tobias finna pull up. Roll up.”

Smoke lets out a tired groan. He hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. “Aight, bro.”

“Bet.”

The line goes dead.

Smoke tosses the phone back onto the cradle before dragging himself out of bed.

He walks into the living room, unlocks the front door, then grabs his rolling tray off the coffee table.

The TV flickers on as he settles onto the couch. He starts breaking the weed down, expertly rolling a blunt.

A few minutes later, Stack and Tobias walk right in like they own the place.

Tobias drops onto the couch. “What’s good, bro?”

Smoke doesn’t even look up. “Nothin’. Just woke up.”

Stack pulls a blunt from behind his ear, sparks it, and takes a long pull. “Nigga… I barely see yo’ ass anymore.”

Smoke chuckles. “Nigga, you know where I live. You should’ve been pulled up.”

Stack laughs. “Nigga, you just had to fuck shit up wit Monica. Now you can’t even come chill wit yo own bro.”

Smoke sucks his teeth. “I ain’t fuck shit up. She the one trippin’. I just been on some chill shit.”

Stack grins like he already knows better. “Nigga, no you haven’t.”

Smoke finally looks up.

Stack points the blunt toward him. “Monica came home yesterday yellin’ talkin’ ‘bout Shatara seen you at Skateland skatin’ wit some bitch… and y’all was kissin’ and shit.”

Smoke’s stomach instantly drops.

Damn. This is the last thing he needs.

He already knows exactly where this is headed. It isn’t even about the fact that he was with somebody else. It’s the fact that he hasn’t really been fucking with Monica lately.

And now she knows he was out in public with another woman. Kissing her.

Smoke rarely took women out.

If he dealt with somebody, he either pulled up to her place or she came to his. Between hustling and work, he never really cared about going on dates.

So why the hell did he kiss Annie in the middle of a skating rink? In front of everybody. That wasn’t even him.

But…He doesn’t regret it. Not even a little bit. If somebody gave him the chance to do it all over again…He’d kiss her the exact same way.

He still can’t get the feeling of her lips out of his mind.

Tobias laughs.

Smoke cuts his eyes at him before looking back at Stack. “Damn… people nosey as fuck.”

Stack passes the blunt to Tobias. “Man, you was out in public wit the shit. What you expect?”

“I expect people to mind they fuckin’ business. I don’t owe nobody shit.”

Tobias nods in agreement before passing the blunt to Smoke.

Smoke takes a slow pull.

“You know how girls be,” Tobias says. “Soon as you give ‘em some dick or some money, they think they own yo’ ass.”

Stack busts out laughing. “Facts. They don’t listen for shit.” He shakes his head. “I gotta admit though, bro… when Monica said you was kissin’ her in public…” He points at Smoke. “I ain’t believe that shit.”

Smoke simply stares back. Silent.

Stack’s grin slowly disappears. “Damn…” He leans forward. “You really was?”

Smoke shrugs. “Do it matter?”

“Nigga, hell yeah it matter!”

Stack throws both hands up.

“You ain’t never did no shit like that.”

He laughs. “This bitch must be cold.”

Smoke’s jaw immediately tightens.

“She not a bitch.” His voice comes out lower than before. “Watch yo’ mouth.”

Both Stack and Tobias look at him.

Stack’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nigga… what?” He points the blunt at Smoke. “Now you standin’ up for her too?” He laughs louder. “Her pussy must be gold.”

“Stack,” Tobias cuts in, “shut the fuck up.”

Stack looks over at him.

Tobias shrugs. “She is fine as fuck though.” He looks back at Smoke. “Leave the nigga alone.”

Now Smoke’s looking at Tobias sideways. Confused. Not just because Tobias defended him…But because he called Annie fine. Something about hearing another man say it rubs him the wrong way.

Tobias notices the look immediately. He laughs. “Don’t look at me like that, nigga.” He raises both hands. “I ain’t mean shit by it.”

Stack notices everything. “Ohhh…” He points back and forth between Smoke and Tobias. “Nah…”

He starts laughing even harder. “Whoever this girl is… “He points at Smoke. “She got you trippin’ already.”

Smoke rolls his eyes. “I ain’t trippin’.”

“The fuck you ain’t.” Stack grins. “And Tobias… Shatara said you was caked up wit her friend too.”

Tobias clicks his tongue. “Yeah… and?” I don’t owe nobody shit either.”

Stack throws his hands in the air. “Damn! So y’all just left a nigga out?” He starts laughing. “I know they got some more friends.” He points at Smoke. “Hook me up.”

Smoke shakes his head immediately. “Man, hell nah.” He laughs. “Don’t nobody wanna be caught up in yo’ drama.”

“Whatever.” Stack smirks. “Look like you in some drama now.”

“I ain’t into shit.” Smoke leans back on the couch. “Monica ain’t my baby mama or my girl.”

Stack nods slowly. “Yeah…” A grin creeps across his face. “Tell her that.”

Smoke sighs. The other women he’s dealt with never acted like this.

They understood exactly what it was.

If they saw him, they saw him. If they didn’t…They kept living.

But Monica…Somewhere along the line she’d started feeling entitled to him.

Maybe because he’d spent a little more time around her. Maybe because she lived with Stack. Either way…Smoke hated it.

He didn’t want any woman feeling like she had a claim on him.

Well…Almost none.

His thoughts drift back to Annie.

Oddly enough…If Annie ever acted a little jealous over him…He doesn’t think he’d mind. Matter of fact…He thinks he’d actually like it.

Smoke catches himself and quietly chuckles. “Damn…”

Stack immediately looks over. “What’s so funny?” He reaches toward Smoke. “And nigga… pass the blunt.”

Smoke hands it over. “Nothin’, nigga. Damn.”

Stack takes the blunt, side-eyeing him the whole time.

A slow grin spreads across his face.

“Nah…” He points at Smoke. “You smiling too much.”

Smoke frowns. “I always smile.”

“The fuck you do.” Stack laughs. “Nigga… you got that look.”

“What look?”

“The look a nigga get when he really fuck wit somebody.”

Smoke immediately shakes his head. “You sound dumb as hell.”

Stack and Tobias exchange a glance before busting into laughter.

Smoke just sucks his teeth and leans back into the couch. He can deny it all he wants.

But judging by the way his mind keeps drifting back to Annie…

Even he’s starting to wonder if his brother might be onto something.

🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇

Out south at Annie’s house, the cool Sunday morning breeze drifts through the open bedroom window, making the white curtains sway gently.

Bobby Jones Gospel plays quietly on BET in the background while the smell of breakfast floats through the house.

Annie sits cross legged on her bed while Rhonda and Devin lounge across it, making themselves right at home.

Devin grins. “So I hear y’all had a ball Friday with them fine ass niggas y’all met at the mall.” She points at Annie. “And I heard you was kissin’ Smoke and gave him yo’ number.”

Annie’s eyes immediately cut to Rhonda.

Rhonda busts out laughing. “My bad, Annie. It was too good not to tell. I had to.”

Annie sucks her teeth. “Damn. I can’t even tell my own business.”

“Nope,” Rhonda says with a shrug.

Devin leans in, smiling. “So… how was the kiss, Annie?”

Annie instantly blushes

Devin’s eyes get wide. “Damn… it was that good?”

Annie laughs and throws a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

Rhonda intercepts and catches the pillow before it hits Devin. “Uh-uh. Don’t avoid the question, Annie.” She points at her. “I wanna know too.”

Annie rolls her eyes before letting out a small sigh. “Truth is…” A smile slowly spreads across her face. “It was so damn good.” She shakes her head, almost laughing at herself. “Like… I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Rhonda and Devin let out matching squeals.

“I know that’s right!” Devin says.

“Shit, I wouldn’t be able to either if I was you,” Rhonda adds. “Y’all was all into it too. I thought y’all was finna crash into somebody out there.”

Annie laughs. “I mean…” She shrugs. “I was a little lost in it. Not gonna lie.” She bites her lip for a second. “His lips are so soft.”

Rhonda dramatically fans herself. “Look at you bein’ fast.”

“Mhmm,” Devin agrees, laughing.

Annie shakes her head. “He kissed me first. I was not expectin’ that.”

Rhonda smirks. “So? You liked it.” She nudges Annie’s knee. “You just as guilty as him.” She tilts her head. “Now… has he called you yet?”

Annie sighs. “No… not yet.” She looks down at her hands. “And I’m so nervous, y’all.”

Devin furrows her brows. “Why? Y’all already broke the ice with the letters.”

“I know…” Annie smiles nervously. “But that don’t make me any less nervous.”

Devin laughs. “I gotta see this nigga.” She points between Annie and Rhonda. “He must be fine as hell for you to still be nervous.”

Rhonda doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, he is.” She nods confidently. “He fine as hell.” She looks at Devin. “Wait ’til you see him.”

Annie slowly turns and side eyes Rhonda. “Aye…” She points at her. “Watch it now.”

The words come out jokingly…But Annie feels a tiny pinch in her chest. It surprises her. Rhonda isn’t lying.

Smoke is fine. More than fine actually.

So why did hearing another woman say it bother her?

Rhonda notices Annie’s expression and laughs. “What, Annie? I ain’t blind.” She shrugs. “Tobias fine as hell too, though.”

Devin snaps her fingers. “I know that’s right.” Then she looks at Annie with a grin. “Claim yo’ man.”

Annie’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s not my man.”

Devin laughs. “Shit… he might as well be.” She throws her hands up. “Y’all kissin’ and shit.”

“Shut up.” Annie throws another pillow, making all three of them bust into laughter.

After everyone settles down, Devin grins again. “Anyway…” She points between Annie and Rhonda. “When am I gon’ get to meet them? And when y’all gon’ hook me up with a brother or cousin or somethin’?”

Rhonda laughs. “Damn, girl. We still tryna get to know them ourselves.”

Annie cracks up.

Rhonda suddenly snaps her fingers. “Ooh! I wanna go to the And1 game at Kemper.” She points at Annie. “I’ma tell Tobias he and Smoke should go.” Then she smiles. “And Annie… you comin’.”

Annie shakes her head, already laughing. “You always plotting’.”

“Somebody gotta help y’all,” Rhonda says proudly.

Devin folds her arms. “Well damn. I don’t get no invite?”

Rhonda clicks her tongue. “You and Ebony can come too.”

Devin grins. “Oh, I’m comin’.”

She points at Rhonda. “And tell them to bring a brother or a friend.”

Rhonda nods. “Got you.”

Annie just shakes her head, smiling to herself.

She tries to act like all of Rhonda’s plotting is ridiculous…But deep down…She hopes Smoke says yes.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

8:30 p.m. rolls around, and Smoke is just getting home from trapping.

He’s calling it an early night because he has plans.

He’s finally gonna call Annie.

He knows he can’t call her too late since she’s still in school and has to be up early in the morning. The thought makes him chuckle to himself.

He would’ve called her yesterday, but work kept him late. Brandon called out, leaving Smoke stuck breaking down the grill by himself before closing.

By the time he got home, it was too late.

Annie had been off yesterday anyway.

After taking a hot shower, he throws on a white T-shirt and a pair of gray basketball shorts before flopping onto his bed.

He reaches over to his nightstand, grabs his Nokia, and stares at it for a second.

A smile creeps onto his face.

Instead of calling right away, he decides to give her a heads up.

His thumbs move across the keypad.

Hey, it’s me, Smoke. I’m gettin’ ready to call.

He hits send.

Out south…

Annie is lying on her stomach across her bed, one foot kicking lazily in the air while she finishes her homework.

Her bedroom is quiet except for the soft hum of her ceiling fan and the scratch of her pencil across the paper.

Her Nokia suddenly vibrates against her comforter.

She reaches for it absentmindedly.

The second she reads the screen…

Her heart skips. Smoke.

A smile instantly spreads across her face.

Yes…She saved his number the very night he asked for hers.

Even though she’d never worked up the courage to call him herself.

Butterflies explode in her stomach.

He’s about to call. Her palms suddenly feel warm. She’s so nervous she almost feels sick.

Taking a deep breath, she types back carefully.

Okay. Call in ten minutes. My minutes are free.

She smiles to herself after pressing send.

One more minute and she would’ve been paying for that call.

Smoke’s phone buzzes almost immediately.

He reads her message and laughs, shaking his head.

He forgot all about free nights starting at nine.

He quickly replies.

Got you.

Then he sets his phone on the nightstand and glances at the clock.

Eight fifty. Only ten more minutes.

For some reason…

Those ten minutes suddenly feel like they’re taking forever.

Annie watches the clock on her nightstand. 8:58…8:59…9:00.

Her stomach twists into knots.

She wipes her sweaty palms against her pajama shorts.

Please don’t ring yet…

A second later… Her Nokia lights up and begins to ring. 9:01.

Her heart immediately starts pounding.

She stares at the screen for a moment. Smoke

She inhales slowly.

Okay, Annie… answer the phone.

She presses the button. “Hello?”

The second Smoke hears her voice, a smile spreads across his face.

Damn…She sounds even sweeter over the phone.

His heart gives a little flutter he wasn’t expecting. “Sup, Pretty Eyes?” he says with a grin. “Thought you wasn’t gon’ answer.”

Annie’s stomach flips all over again.

Lord…His voice sounds even better over the phone. Deep. Smooth.

She can practically hear the smile in it.

A nervous giggle slips out before she can stop it.

The sound pulls at something in Smoke’s chest.

He already likes making her laugh.

“Why you call me that?” she asks softly.

Smoke smiles. “Call you what?”

She smiles too. “Pretty Eyes.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles through the phone. “I call you that ‘cause yo’ eyes big and beautiful.” He pauses for a second. “Ain’t nobody ever told you that before?”

Annie feels warmth rush into her cheeks.

Thankfully…He can’t see her blushing.

She smiles to herself. “Not really.”

Smoke shakes his head. “Well…I’m tellin’ you now. And I’m gon’ keep tellin’ you.”

Annie bites the inside of her cheek to hide another smile. “Thank you.”

Smoke chuckles. “Ain’t no need to thank me. I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

Another soft giggle escapes her.

Smoke smiles to himself.

He could get used to hearing that.

“So…” He shifts against his headboard. “What you doin’?”

“I just finished doin’ some homework.”

Smoke lets out an amused laugh. “Oh… It’s been a minute since I heard somebody say that.”

Annie raises an eyebrow even though he can’t see it. “Oh?” She smiles. “Is that a bad thing?”

Smoke sucks his teeth. “Man, nah.” He laughs. “At least you actually do yo’ homework.”

That earns another laugh from Annie.

“Well, yeah. Of course. I’m not on the principal’s honor roll for nothin’.”

Smoke blinks. “Damn. So that mean you make straight A’s?”

A shy smile spreads across Annie’s face. “Mhmm.”

Smoke leans back against the headboard.

He honestly doesn’t know what to say for a second. Every time he learns something new about her… She impresses him even more. She isn’t just beautiful. She has goals. She works. She stays out of trouble.

And now…She makes straight A’s.

He shakes his head with a smile. “That’s dope, Annie.” His voice softens. “The more you tell me about yo self…The more I wanna know.”

“Thank you.” Annie smiles to herself before asking, “What school you graduate from?”

“I graduated from Central.”

“Oh.” She nods even though he can’t see her. “I got a couple cousins that go there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. One’s a senior and one’s a sophomore.”

“That’s what’s up.” Smoke shifts against his headboard. “So what school you go to?”

“I go to Hickman Mills.” She pauses. “You know where that’s at?”

Smoke lets out a quiet laugh. “Of course. I know Kansas City like the back of my hand.”

Annie smiles to herself, feeling a little silly.

Of course he knew. She should’ve known better than to ask. “My bad,” she says with a little laugh. “Guess I ain’t think about that.”

Smoke chuckles. “What you apologizin’ for? You ain’t assume nothin’.” He pauses. “I like that.”

Annie’s cheeks warm.

She isn’t exactly sure how to respond to that.

The silence isn’t awkward anymore.

It’s… comfortable.

Smoke fills it without missing a beat.

“So you stay closer to Raytown?”

“Yeah. Off 87th.” She smiles. “Right across the street is considered Raytown.”

“Oh, I know exactly where that’s at.”

“Mhmm.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So you stay in the city?”

“Yeah…”He laughs. “Somewhat.”

Annie grins. “Somewhat? What that mean?”

“I stay off Eastwood Trafficway.” He shrugs even though she can’t see him. “It ain’t deep in the city. It’s right off seventy one highway.”

“Ohhh. I get it.” She nods. “You grow up there?”

“Nah. I grew up in the Thirties.” He pauses. “You know where that’s at?”

“Nah.” She laughs softly. “I ain’t never been to the Thirties.”

Smoke raises an eyebrow. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Do you come to the city at all?”

“Not really.” She starts counting on her fingers. “Just to visit family… The Plaza… Crown Center… And Ward Parkway.”

Smoke laughs. A real laugh.

Annie smiles. “What?” She laughs too. “What’s funny?”

“My bad, lil’ mama.” Smoke shakes his head. “I don’t really consider none of that the city.” He grins. “I’m gon’ have to take you around and show you the city for real.”

Butterflies instantly fill Annie’s stomach. She can’t stop herself from smiling. “For real?” She leans back against her pillows.“Like where?”

Smoke starts naming places without even thinking. “Troost…Prospect…The Fifties… The Thirties…The West Bottoms….Parker Square…Wayne Minor.” He chuckles. “Both of them the projects, but they be lit in the daytime…And the food over there…” He kisses his teeth. “Man…It’s some good ass food in the city.”

“Oh yeah?” Annie asks. “Like where?”

“Humdingers.” He answers immediately. “Go Chicken Go.”

“I’ve had Go Chicken Go once…I liked it.”

Smoke laughs. “Yeah. They gizzards good as hell.”

“They are.” Annie laughs. “But we got good food out here too.”

“Oh yeah?” Smoke smiles. “Like what?”

“We got Godfather’s Pizza…Big T’s and Fish City.” She grins. “Godfather’s got the best pizza ever.”

Smoke nods. “I’ll give you Fish City. I ain’t never had Godfather’s though.”

Annie gasps dramatically. “You’ve never had Godfather’s?”

“Nah.”

“They really good. We eat it all the time.”

Smoke hums. “Hmm… I still think Santora’s got the best pizza around here.” He pauses just long enough for Annie to wonder where he’s going with it. “But…” His voice softens. “Maybe we can hit up Godfather’s one day…You can make a believer outta me.”

Annie’s heart skips. He’s already making plans. Not someday in theory.

One day. With her.

She smiles so hard her cheeks begin to hurt. “Okay.” It comes out barely above a whisper.

There’s a brief silence.

Not an awkward one.

Just long enough for Smoke to hear the hesitation in her voice.

He smiles to himself. “Annie.”

“Hmm?”

“You still scared of me?”

Annie opens her mouth.

Nothing comes out. She bites her lip instead.

Smoke chuckles softly. “It’s okay.” His voice is calm. “Be honest wit’ me.”

Annie lets out a quiet sigh. “…Yeah.” She closes her eyes. “I’m still very nervous.”

Smoke grunts. “Why?”

Annie fiddles with her comforter

“I told you.” She laughs nervously. “’Cause you look too good, Smoke…And you older.” She pauses. “I mean… Why me?”

Smoke shifts again against his headboard and chuckles. “Damn, Shorty. If you call me fine one more time, my head gon’ get big.”

That pulls a genuine laugh out of Annie. “Oh, please, Elijah.” She smiles. “Don’t act like women ain’t never called you fine.”

“I mean…”Smoke shrugs. “Yeah, they do. But…” His voice softens. “None of ’em ever made me feel like you do when they say it.”

Annie’s stomach flips so hard she has to press a hand against it.

She doesn’t know what to do with that.

Smoke continues before she can overthink it. “Stop askin’ why you, Annie.” He pauses. “Why not you?”

Another quiet silence settles between them. “I’m the one who’s nervous as hell.” He laughs at himself. “And I’m happy you even gave me the time of day.” His tone grows more sincere. “You different….You so pretty to me.” He smiles. “You one of the most beautiful women I ever laid my eyes on.” He pauses for a moment. “I know niggas tell you that shit all the time…Don’t they?”

Annie can’t stop smiling now. Her cheeks hurt. She can’t believe this man is really saying all of this to her.

Especially over the phone.

She lets out a shy laugh. “Um…I mean…Yeah.” She shrugs even though he can’t see it. “Dudes holler at me.They call me sexy. But…” She smiles to herself. “You know how high school boys are. They don’t compliment girls like that. They too busy tryna be hard and impress they friends.”

Smoke nods. “Yeah…But I’m a grown ass man, Annie. I’m not scared to say how I feel. I’m not ashamed to tell you how beautiful I think you are.” His voice remains steady. Honest. “And I ain’t tryna rush to take you out. I know we gotta take our time to get there.” He smiles. “But… Just so you know eventually…I wanna get to that point.”

Annie’s heart melts. Oh my God…

He’s saying all the right things.

She smiles into her pillow. “I know and I do too.”

Smoke smiles so hard his cheeks start hurting. “I’m gon’ be patient wit’ you…I promise.”

Another piece of Annie’s nervousness melts away. “Okay.”

Smoke can hear the difference in her voice now. She’s smiling.

“You feel a little better?”

Annie giggles. “Yeah. I do. Thank you.”

Smoke grins. “You welcome…” He pauses just long enough to tease her. “Annika.”

Annie’s mouth falls open. She starts laughing. “You really sayin’ my real name right now?”

“Hell yeah.”Smoke laughs with her. “You been usin’ mine.” He shrugs. “It’s only fair, right?”

Annie shakes her head, smiling so hard her cheeks ache. “Yes…” She laughs again. “Elijah.”

The way she says his name has him swooning. He doesn’t know why.

He just knows…He hopes she never stops saying it. “Good.”

Smoke glances at the clock on his nightstand. “Well… it’s gettin’ late. “I know you got school tomorrow…And work.”

Annie laughs. “How you know I got work tomorrow?”

Smoke grins. “Come on now.”

That answer makes Annie laugh even harder. The conversation has gone by so fast she hadn’t even realized what time it was. Truth be told…She doesn’t want it to end.

And if Smoke is being honest with himself…Neither does he.

A comfortable silence settles between them. Neither one feels the need to rush and fill it anymore.

Smoke breaks it first. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

The words come out before he can overthink them.

Annie smiles into her pillow. “I can’t wait to see you either.”

Smoke grins. “Good. Make sure you act like it too.”

Annie laughs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it mean.” He chuckles. “When you see me, you can at least speak to me.”

Annie shakes her head even though he can’t see her. “I mean…” She smiles. “You can speak too. Instead of just starin’.”

Smoke laughs. “I do be tryin’ to speak….You just be too busy lookin’ away from me…” He pauses. “You don’t even look at me long enough.”

Annie clicks her tongue. “I do look at you long enough.”

“Nah.” He laughs. “Not really, not as long as I want you to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah.”

She smiles, ready to argue back. “Don’t even try it, Elijah. You break eye contact first a lot of the time.” She laughs. “Admit it.”

Smoke lets out a chortle. “Aight…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… sometimes I do.” He pauses. “But that’s ’cause you got the type of eyes a nigga can get lost in.” His voice softens. “And I be tryna work. I can’t afford to get lost in ’em while we at work.” He smiles. “Now outside of work…That’s a different story. I got all the time in the world then.”

Annie presses her face into her pillow to hide the smile spreading across it.

Lord…She wishes there was some way to record this conversation so she could play it back whenever she wanted.

The amount of times he’d made her blush… Laugh… Smile… All in one phone call… She’d lost count. “Whatever, Elijah.”

Smoke’s smile drops “I’m serious though.”His voice grows quieter.

“So am I.” Annie answers softly.

Another comfortable silence falls between them.

Neither of them wants to be the one to say goodbye.

Finally…Smoke speaks. “Well, Pretty Eyes…I hope you have a good night.”

Annie smiles. “I hope you do too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

For a second…Neither of them hangs up.

Almost like they’re both waiting on the other person to do it first.

Then…Click.

The line goes dead.

Smoke lays back against his pillow with a smile he can’t seem to wipe off his face. He hardly ever smiled before her but now it’s something he seems to do all of the time.

That conversation couldn’t have gone any better.

It started off with nervous laughs and awkward pauses…

But somewhere in the middle…

Everything just flowed.

Every time he made Annie laugh, something in his chest lit up.

He could practically picture her smiling on the other end of the phone.

He knew she was still nervous.

But by the end of the call…

He could hear her relaxing.

She wasn’t overthinking every word anymore.

She was simply…Talking to him.

He smiles to himself.

Annie is humble to a fault.

As beautiful as she is, she still questions why he’d want her.

He hates that.

Because if anybody deserves to know how special they are…It’s her.

He wants her to see herself the way he already does.

And if it’s up to him…

He’s gonna spend however long it takes showing her.

He laughs at himself again, he can’t believe he was already making plans to take her out. Smoke didn’t mean to scare her, it’s like he couldn’t help himself the words just tumbled out of his mouth so naturally, which is crazy because he didn’t even go out on dates but yet there he was jumping the gun and already telling her about places he wanted to go. For some reason she just had that effect on him.

Still smiling, Smoke closes his eyes.

For the first time in a long time…

He falls asleep thinking about one person.

Across the city, Annie lies on her stomach, hugging her pillow close to her chest.

The room is quiet now.

Only the soft hum of the ceiling fan fills the air.

She stares at the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling, replaying every part of their conversation. It wasn’t scary at all.

Not like she’d convinced herself it would be.

Instead…He made her feel comfortable. Safe. Like she didn’t have to pretend to be anybody but herself.

Every compliment he’d given her…

Every joke…

Every time he’d called her “Pretty Eyes…”

Every time he’d said her name…

She remembers all of it.

A smile slowly spreads across her face.

She’s already looking forward to talking to him again.

And maybe…Just maybe…He was right.

She needed to stop asking herself…

Why me? Maybe it was finally time to start believing she was enough.

With that thought warming her heart, Annie snuggles deeper beneath her blankets.

Still smiling…She slowly drifts off to sleep, wondering what tomorrow will bring.

✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️

The next morning at school, the hallways are already packed.

Lockers slam shut. Teachers stand in their doorways greeting students while conversations bounce off the cinderblock walls. The smell of cafeteria breakfast lingers in the air as students rush to beat the first bell.

Annie and Devin step through the front doors together.

Before they’ve even made it halfway down the hall, Devin nudges Annie with her elbow. “So…”

Annie already knows where this is going. She laughs. “Damn, Devin. We just stepped in the building. No time to waste, huh?”

“Girl, no. I’ve been waiting on this. Did he call you?”

Annie smiles to herself. “Yeah, girl… we talked.”

Devin squeals loud enough to make a few students turn around. “I knew it! So how’d it go?”

Annie can’t hide her smile. “It went really good.” She looks down for a second, remembering the night before. “I didn’t even wanna get off the phone.”

Devin grins. “Oooooh.”

“Mhmm” Annie grins “He said all the right things.”

Devin grabs Annie’s arm dramatically.

“You gon’ have to give me every single detail.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “I guess.”

“Don’t be like that, Annie.”

“Whatever.”

Still laughing, they stop in front of Annie’s locker.

She spins the combination and pulls the metal door open.

The moment it swings wide…

A folded piece of paper flutters to the floor. Annie’s smile disappears. Her stomach twists.

Devin looks down. “Oh hell…”

She already knows. “Don’t tell me Ryan wrote you another damn letter.”

Annie bends down and picks it up.

She doesn’t even have to unfold it.

She recognizes the handwriting immediately.

She sighs. “Yeah, girl.”

Devin throws her head back. “Oh my God. He is not giving up. I wish he would.”

“So do I.”

Annie stuffs the letter into her purse without opening it.

She slams her locker shut. “Come on.”

The two continue walking toward class.

By lunchtime, the cafeteria is buzzing.

Music leaks from somebody’s headphones.

A group of boys is arguing over basketball while someone nearby laughs so hard they nearly choke on their fries.

Annie sits down with Rhonda, Ebony, and Devin.

She hasn’t even opened her milk before Devin speaks. “So…”

Annie sighs. “What?”

“What’s the letter say?”

Ebony looks up. “What letter?”

Rhonda glances between them.

“From Smoke?”

Devin shakes her head. “Nah. Ryan’s weird ass.”

Rhonda immediately sucks her teeth.

“Oh, hell no.”

Ebony leans forward. “What’d he say?”

Annie shrugs. “I don’t know. I ain’t read it.”

Ebony blinks. “What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t care.”

Devin laughs. “Where the letter at? We reading it right now.”

Annie sighs dramatically. “I knew y’all wasn’t gon’ leave me alone.”

She reaches into her purse and hands it over.

Devin unfolds the paper.

She clears her throat dramatically. “Ahem.”

The girls laugh.

Then she begins reading.

Ann,

Skip all the formalities. What’s this shit I hear about you being at the skating rink with another dude? They said you was kissing him and everything. What the fuck is that? Ain’t no way you moved on that quick. That means he been around this whole time.

I ain’t dumb, and yet you mad at me about Dana while you was cheating the whole time? You a hypocrite.

Who he is, Ann? I wanna know.

It’s funny how all of a sudden you can get out the house for him but couldn’t make time for me.

What school the nigga go to?

When I find out who he is, it’s like that for him. We scrapping, and you better not get in the way.

—Ryan

Devin slowly folds the letter.

The table is quiet for exactly three seconds.

Then— “I know his light-skinned ass was red as hell while writing this.”

The whole table busts into laughter.

Rhonda wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. “He’s crazy”

Devin shakes her head. “He probably pressed so hard the pen almost ripped through the paper.”

More laughter.

Rhonda catches her breath.”Ryan really think he tough.”

Devin snorts. “He fake tough. He ain’t fighting shit.”

Rhonda grins. “Especially not Smoke.” She laughs. “He talmbout, ‘What school the nigga go to? If only he knew.”

The girls laugh all over again.

Annie shakes her head. “I swear…”

Once everyone settles down, Devin looks at Annie. “So how you feel?”

Annie sighs. “Honestly…” She shrugs. “I’m just annoyed. Why are people even telling him my business?”

As she says it, Ebony looks down at her tray. She suddenly becomes very interested in her fries. Guilt flashes across her face. Rhonda notices. She doesn’t say anything… But she definitely notices.

Ebony clears her throat. “So…You gonna write him back?”

Annie looks at her like she’s lost her mind “Hell no.”

“Why not?” Ebony asks. “He still fighting for you.”

Before Annie can answer, Rhonda jumps in. “I thought we already discussed this shit, Ebony.” She points across the table. “Annie got a real man now. He older. He make his own money. He got his own car. And he fine as hell.” She laughs. “No offense, Annie…But Ryan can’t compete with that.”

Ebony clicks her tongue. “I guess.”

Annie finally looks directly at her. Her expression hardens. “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t give a damn what you think or say about Ryan anymore. I’m done.” The words come out calm…But firm.

Ebony slowly raises her hands. “Okay, girl.”

The conversation moves on.

But Rhonda quietly studies Ebony from across the table.

Something about the way she’d defended Ryan…Again…Didn’t sit right with her.

A little while later…

The final bell rings.

Lockers slam shut all around the hallway as students flood toward the exits, laughing, talking, making plans.

Annie weaves through the crowd toward her locker. She’s already thinking about work. She still has to hurry home, change clothes, and make it to Red Lobster on time.

As she gets closer, something catches her eye. She slows. Then stops completely. Her stomach drops. Spray painted across the front of her locker in thick black letters is one word.

HOE

For a second…She can’t move.

She just stares.

Her throat tightens as she swallows hard.

“No…” She whispers.

Her eyes dart up and down the hallway. Students continue walking by. Nobody says anything. A few glance over. Some look away quickly. Others stare a little longer than they should.

Heat rushes into Annie’s face.

She already knows who did it—Ryan.

Who else would? Her jaw clenches.

Anger surges through her so fast it almost takes her breath away.

Are you serious?

She balls her hands into fists.

Part of her wants to march straight through the school and find him.

She wants to cuss him out.

Demand to know what gives him the right to humiliate her like this.

But she doesn’t have time. She has to be at work.

Instead, she steps closer to the locker.

Maybe… she can wipe it off.

She rubs at the paint with the sleeve of her jacket. Nothing.

She tries harder. The black paint only smears a little. It isn’t coming off.

Her heart sinks. “No… no…”

Students continue passing.

One boy nudges his friend and quietly points.

A couple of girls whisper to each other as they walk by.

Annie lowers her head. Her cheeks burn. Tears sting her eyes before she can stop them.

Not because she believes the word.

But because everyone else can see it.

Because now people are looking.

Wondering. Talking.

She blinks rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

“Don’t cry.”

“Don’t give anybody the satisfaction.”

She takes a shaky breath. Her mind races. Maybe the janitor can clean it tomorrow… No. Tomorrow is too late.

She can’t leave it there overnight.

She can’t come back in the morning and let the whole school see it.

That means…She’s going to be late for work.

The thought only frustrates her more.

Ryan didn’t just vandalize her locker.

He stole her time. Embarrassed her.

Made her day harder.

All because she refused to take him back. Annie closes her eyes for a second and exhales slowly.

Then squares her shoulders.

There’s only one thing she can do.

She turns away from the locker and starts walking toward the principal’s office. Her footsteps are quick.

Determined.

But each one feels heavier than the last.

Behind her…The word is still there.

Waiting. Mocking her.

And all Annie can think is…

Why won’t he just leave me alone?

🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀🦞🦀

It’s 4:00 p.m., and the dinner prep is in full swing at Red Lobster.

The kitchen hums with controlled chaos. Oil crackles in the fryers.

Steaks hiss as they hit the grill.

Someone calls out for more biscuits while another cook slides a rack of shrimp into the broiler.

Smoke works the line like he always does. Quick. Precise. Focused.

Or at least…He’s trying to be.

Every few minutes, his eyes drift toward the swinging kitchen doors.

Each time they push open, he instinctively looks up.

Every time…It’s somebody else.

A server. A busser. A manager.

Not Annie.

He checks the clock mounted above the ticket machine. 4:00.

His brow furrows.

She was supposed to be here at three.

Annie wasn’t the type to be late.

If anything, she usually showed up early.

He plates another order, but his mind isn’t on the food.mWhere the hell is she?

His thoughts start running.

Did I keep her up too late on the phone?

He immediately dismisses it.

Nah…They hadn’t even talked that long.

Maybe she didn’t go to school today.

Or maybe…Something happened.

That thought settles in his chest like a brick.

Without realizing it, he reaches into his pocket where his cell phone rests.

For a brief second…He thinks about calling her. Just one quick call.

Just to make sure she’s alright.

His thumb brushes the phone.

Then he stops himself.

Man… what are you doing?

He shakes his head. That’d be doing too much. They’d just started talking.

He had no right to be checking on her whereabouts. Still…The feeling wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t explain it.

He’d never found himself worrying over a woman like this before.

Especially one he’d only known for a little while.

He grabs another plate and slides vegetables into place.

The kitchen doors swing open again.

His eyes lift automatically.

This time…It’s her.

Relief washes over him so fast he almost laughs. There you are.

A smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.

Then…He really looks at her.

The smile disappears.

Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

She isn’t smiling.

She isn’t bouncing through the kitchen with that quiet little energy she always carries.

Her shoulders are slumped.

Her eyes stay fixed on the floor.

She doesn’t greet anyone.

Doesn’t glance toward the line.

Doesn’t even look his way.

She quietly hangs her jacket on the hook. Grabs her server book.

Then heads straight back onto the floor.

Smoke watches her until the kitchen doors close again.

His chest burns. She hadn’t even looked at him.

His mind immediately starts replaying the night before.

Did I say something wrong?

Did I move too fast?

Did I scare her off?

They’d left each other smiling.

Everything had been good.

So…What happened between last night and today?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Smoke wipes his hands on a towel and steps away from the line.

One of the cooks looks over.

“Where you goin’?”

“I’ll be back.”

Smoke pushes through the kitchen doors into the dining room.

He scans the restaurant.

Near the front entrance, he spots Annie.

She’s standing with her back to him, talking to Michelle.

Smoke slows his steps.

He isn’t trying to eavesdrop.

But Annie’s voice carries.

“…I’m so sorry I’m late.”

She sounds tired. “I had something bad happen at school, and I had to stay and take care of it.”

Smoke’s shoulders loosen just a little.

At least…It wasn’t because of him.

Michelle’s expression softens.

“It’s okay, Annie. Bryan already told me what happened. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Smoke’s ears perk up immediately.

His jaw tightens.

Something happened?

Michelle continues.

“You’re never late, so you’re good.”

Annie nods. “Thank you so much, Michelle.”

Michelle hesitates before asking,

“Do you know who did it?”

Annie lets out a quiet breath.

“Yeah. I do. I reported it to the principal.”

Michelle nods firmly. “Good.I hope whoever did it gets exactly the punishment they deserve.”

Smoke’s stomach knots.

So somebody really did hurt her.

His hands slowly curl into fists at his sides.

He doesn’t know what happened.

He doesn’t know who did it.

But just hearing that someone had done something to make Annie walk in looking that defeated…It makes something hot settle in his chest.

He turns without saying a word and heads back toward the kitchen.

The sizzling grills and shouted ticket times fade into the background.

His mind is somewhere else now.

Whoever did this…

His jaw flexes.

I need to find out what happened.

Because one thing is becoming painfully clear to him—When it came to Annie… He was already more protective than he probably had any business being.

A little while later, Annie pushes through the kitchen doors to pick up another order.

The kitchen is still loud.

The fryers hiss.

The grill crackles.

Cooks call out ticket times over one another while servers weave in and out of the narrow galley.

Normally, Annie would be smiling.

Tonight…She’s quiet.

She steps up to the window and waits for her food.

Smoke looks up from the line.

His eyes immediately find her.

She looks exhausted.

The brightness she usually carries is gone. Even her shoulders seem heavier.

He gives her a small nod.

Annie notices and quietly nods back.

No smile. No shy giggle.

No blushing before looking away.

Just…A nod.

Smoke’s chest tightens.

He catches her eyes for only a second, but that’s all he needs.

The hurt is still there.

Those big, pretty doe eyes that usually sparkled looked dull tonight.

He hates seeing them like that.

For a split second, he thinks about saying something. You alright?

What happened? Who did it?

Anything. But the words never leave his mouth.

The kitchen isn’t the place. They’re both working. People are everywhere.

So instead…He slides her plate through the window.

She quietly mouths, “Thank you.”

Smoke nods once. “You welcome.”

She picks up the plate and disappears back onto the floor.

His eyes follow the swinging kitchen doors long after she’s gone.

The rest of the night feels different.

Every now and then, Annie comes back into the kitchen.

Every now and then…Their eyes meet.

Just like always.

Only tonight…She never smiles.

She doesn’t laugh with Megan.

She doesn’t tease anybody.

She simply does her job.

Smoke notices every bit of it.

Each glance worries him a little more.

Whatever happened at school…It really got to her.

And not knowing what it was…

Is starting to bother him.

Closing time finally arrives.

The restaurant slowly empties.

Servers finish their side work while the kitchen begins breaking everything down.

Smoke is still in the back, scrubbing down the line.

The smell of bleach mixes with grilled seafood and grease as everyone gets ready to head home.

Out in the dining room, Annie quietly unties her apron.

Megan notices the expression on her face. “Girl…” She gently takes the silverware bucket from Annie.

“I’ll roll these.”

Annie looks surprised. “You sure?”

“Mhmm. You’ve helped me enough.”

She smiles warmly. “I got you tonight.”

Annie’s shoulders finally relax a little.

“Thank you.”

“Go home and get some rest.”

Annie smiles—a tiny one this time.

“Thanks, Megan.”

The two had become friends over the last few weeks.

Always helping each other when one needed it.

Tonight…Annie was the one who needed it.

She grabs her things and quietly leaves for the night.

About twenty minutes later…

Smoke finishes cleaning his station.

He washes his hands. Grabs his keys.

Then walks out into the dining room.

Almost instinctively…His eyes start searching. Near the hostess stand.

Nothing. Near the computers.

Nothing. The front windows.

Megan notices immediately.

A grin spreads across her face.

“Looking for Annie?”

Smoke slowly looks over at her.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t deny it either.

Megan laughs. “She already left.”

She gestures toward the bucket beside her. “I’m rolling her silverware.”

Smoke glances down at the bucket.

His stomach flutters. He’d missed her.

He didn’t even get to tell her goodnight.

Didn’t get to ask if she was okay.

Didn’t even get one of those quiet little smiles she always gave him before leaving.

He nods once. “Aight.”

Then he turns and heads for the door.

The drive home is quieter than usual.

The radio is on…But Smoke isn’t listening.

Streetlights blur past his windshield as he drives through the City.

His hands rest loosely on the steering wheel.

His mind…Is somewhere else.

All he can see is Annie’s face.

The way she’d walked into work.

Head down. Eyes tired. Not herself.

He thinks about what Annie said.

“Something bad happened at school.”

Then… “Do you know who did it?”

Somebody hurt her.

He just doesn’t know how.

Or why.

His jaw tightens. He wishes he’d asked. Wishes he’d found a moment to pull her aside.

Even if it was just for thirty seconds.

Instead…He let her go home carrying whatever was weighing on her.

Smoke sighs. “This shit ain’t sittin’ right wit me.” He mumbles

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

Normally he’d tell himself to mind his business. Normally he’d wait until tomorrow.

Normally…He wouldn’t be this worried about somebody he’d only known a short time.

But Annie wasn’t “normally.”

She’d become the first person he looked for when he walked into work.

The first person he noticed when she smiled. The first person he thought about when he woke up .

And apparently…The first person whose sadness followed him home.

By the time he pulls into his driveway…

He’s already made up his mind.

He cuts the engine.

Sits there for a second.

Then reaches for his phone.

He glances at the clock.

It’s late. Too late by most people’s standards.

He doesn’t care. If she’s asleep…She won’t answer.

If she’s awake…He wants to hear her voice.

He wants to know she’s alright.

He wants to know what happened.

Smoke finds Annie’s name.

His thumb hovers over the call button for only a second. Then he presses it.

He isn’t calling because he’s nosy.

He isn’t calling because he’s trying to be controlling.

He’s calling because all night…

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl who always made everyone else’s day a little brighter…

Needed somebody to check on hers…

Annie is lying across her bed in an oversized T-shirt, the see through corded house phone tucked between her shoulder and ear.

She’s on three way with Rhonda and Devin.

The bedroom is dark except for the glow of her bedside lamp. Every now and then, she absentmindedly traces circles on her comforter as they talk.

Rhonda lets out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry he did that shit, Annie.”

Devin clicks her tongue. “Yeah, that’s messed up.” She pauses before adding, “He a hoe for that. The nigga literally wrote exactly what he is on your locker.”

That earns a small laugh from Annie.

She shakes her head. “Ugh… I don’t even know what I was thinking ever being in a relationship with him.”

“Girl,” Rhonda says, “we live and learn. He just bitter. He so used to girls kissing his ass that he can’t handle somebody finally telling him no.”

Devin jumps in. “And you actually moved on.”

She laughs. “Meanwhile Dana’s desperate ass still over there with him…”

“…even though she got all them letters he been writing you.”

Annie sighs. “I know.”

She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. “I just don’t know who he thinks I am.”

Devin sucks her teeth “He really thought spray-painting your locker was gon’ make you come back.”

Rhonda scoffs. “That shit don’t even make sense.”

Devin’s voice softens.

“So… what’d the principal say?”

Before Annie can answer—

Her cell phone lights up on the nightstand.

It begins to ring. Annie glances over.

Then her eyes go wide.

She sits straight up in bed. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Rhonda asks.

Annie grabs the phone. “It’s Smoke.”

Both girls squeal at the same time.

“Answer it!” Rhonda blurts out.

“Girl, hurry!” Devin says.

Annie laughs nervously. “My heart beating so fast.”

“Quit talking to us!” Rhonda laughs.

“Go answer the phone!”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Devin says.

Annie smiles. “Okay. Bye, y’all.”

She quickly hangs up the house phone and reaches for her cell.

Her fingers fumble as she goes to answer

The ringing stops. She freezes.

The screen goes dark.

“…No.”

She stares at it for another second.

“He hung up.”

On the other side of the city…

Smoke sits quietly in his truck, his phone still in his hand.

He looks at the screen for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.

“Maybe she sleep.”

He leans his head back against the seat.

“I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Smoke climbs out of his truck and starts toward his apartment.

The night air is cool, carrying the distant hum of traffic and music from somebody’s car down the block. His phone rests loosely in his hand as he climbs the stairs.

Meanwhile, Annie sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her cell.

Her thumb hovers over the call button.

She debates it for a few seconds.

Maybe he really thought she was asleep.

Maybe he only called to say goodnight.

Maybe calling back would make her look too eager.

Then she thinks about how disappointed she felt when the ringing stopped.

Annie takes a breath and presses call before she can change her mind.

Smoke’s phone rings just as he slides his key into the lock.

He glances down at the glowing screen.

Annie.

A slow smirk pulls at his mouth.

She called back. So she wasn’t asleep.

Smoke answers as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“Sup, pretty eyes?”

Annie’s stomach flips. “Hello, Elijah.”

His heart skips at the sound of his real name leaving her mouth. Soft. Sweet.

Like she’s already claimed the right to use it.

“I’m glad you called me back,” he says, locking the door. “My bad for calling this late. I really just wanted to talk to you.”

“It’s okay. I was on the phone anyway.”

Smoke’s ears perk up. His mind immediately takes him somewhere it has no business going.

Who the hell was she talking to this late?

Another dude?

The thought irritates him before he can stop it.

He pushes it away just as quickly.

“Oh.” He walks toward his bedroom. “I ain’t mean to cut yo conversation short.”

“No, it’s okay. It was just my friends. I talk to them all day, every day. I’ll see them at school tomorrow anyway.”

The tension leaves Smoke’s shoulders.

He nods to himself as if she can see him.

“Aight.” He enters his bedroom, kicks off his shoes, and stretches across the bed. “So…”

He settles the phone against his ear.

“How are you?”

“I’m…okay.”

Smoke’s brow furrows. There she goes.

Trying to be brave.

Trying to make everything sound fine when it clearly isn’t.

“Annika?”

Annie’s stomach tightens at the sound of her full name coming from him again.

“Hm?”

“You not okay.” His voice softens. “And I can tell.”

Annie doesn’t respond.

Smoke stares at the ceiling. “I don’t wanna pressure you into telling me what’s wrong. But I want you to know I’m here to listen.”

His thumb brushes slowly against the side of the phone. “I’m not gon judge you. I want you to feel like you can open up to me, even though we just gettin’ to know each other.”

Annie closes her eyes.

The sincerity in his voice makes her chest ache.

Most men didn’t want to hear women’s problems. They wanted the fun parts.

The smiles. The flirting. Not the hurt.

Not the messy parts.

But Smoke sounds like he really wants to know.

Annie exhales slowly. “No…” She swallows. “I’m not okay.”

Smoke sits up against the headboard. “Okay.” His voice remains calm. “Now we gettin’ somewhere. Talk to me.”

Silence settles over the line.

Smoke can hear her breathing.

He senses the hesitation immediately.

“Tell me what happened.” He pauses.

“Did somebody do somethin’ to you?”

“Yeah…”Annie’s voice is quiet “Somebody did.”

Smoke’s jaw tightens. “Okay. Who?”

Annie stares at the pattern on her comforter. “You sure you wanna know?”

Smoke chuckles softly, but there’s no humor in it. “Hell yeah.” His voice drops lower. “I wanna know everything when it comes to you.”

Annie’s heart flutters. She decides to be honest.

If they were trying to build something, she needed to feel comfortable opening up to him.

She just hadn’t expected drama to find them this soon. “You remember when I wrote you that poem and said the last guy I was with hurt me?”

Smoke’s expression hardens. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Annie pulls her knees to her chest.

“It was him.”

Smoke runs a hand down his face.

“Aight.” He forces himself to stay calm.

“What he do to you?”

Annie swallows hard. “When we were together, he cheated on me.”

Smoke says nothing, letting her continue.

“He’s a football player, and she’s a cheerleader. They kissed at camp.” Her voice grows tighter. “So I broke up with him.”

“Good,” Smoke says quietly.

Annie pauses. “But ever since I ended it, he refuses to let me move on.”

Smoke’s brows pull together.

“Even though he’s with the girl he cheated on me with.”

Smoke cuts in. “When you say he refuses to let you move on, what you mean?” His tone sharpens. “What’s he doin’?”

“He used to call me back-to-back.”

Annie looks toward her bedroom door, lowering her voice even though it’s closed. “The house phone and my cell. But he knows I won’t answer anymore, so he started slipping letters into my locker, begging me to take him back.”

Smoke’s grip tightens around the phone.

“I wrote him back one time and told him to stop. I told him I was done.”

“And he ain’t listen.” It isn’t a question.

“No.” Annie sighs. “At the last football game I went to, he begged me again. I refused, and I gave his girlfriend all the letters he’d written me.”

Smoke’s mouth twitches slightly.

He likes that. She stood on her decision.

“He stopped writing after that, but…”

Her voice trails off.

Smoke feels his agitation beginning to rise. One thing he couldn’t stand was a man refusing to respect a woman’s choice.

“But what?” He keeps his voice steady for her. “You doin’ good. I’m listenin’” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You can tell me. What else did he do?”

“So…” Annie hesitates. “Somebody saw us at Skateland.”

Smoke’s jaw flexes.

He already knows where this is headed. He’s dealing with his own version of the same bullshit.

“They knew him,” Annie continues, “and went back and told him I was skating with you and that we were kissing.”

Smoke’s eyes narrow.

“So he wrote me this rude ass letter.”

“What he say?”

“He called me a hypocrite. Said I must’ve been cheating on him with you the whole time we were together.”

Smoke shakes his head slowly.

“He said I was no better than him.”

“That don’t even make sense.”

“I know.”

Annie’s voice trembles with frustration. “Then he started asking who you were and what school you went to.”

Smoke almost laughs. “What school I go to?”

“Yeah.”

Despite everything, Annie lets out a tiny laugh. “He said when he finds out who you are, he’s gonna fight you.”

Smoke leans back against the headboard.

A quiet hum leaves his chest.

Not because it’s funny.

But because the idea of some high school football player putting fear in him is ridiculous.

Smoke had been fighting his entire life.

He’d had to. Growing up where he did, weakness made you a target. Everybody in his neighborhood knew better than to try him or Stack.

Still, he doesn’t brag. Doesn’t laugh.

He knows Annie is upset, and the last thing she needs is him making light of it.

“Hm.” He keeps his voice calm. “What else he say?”

“That was the end of the letter.”

Smoke goes silent for a moment. Then asks, “That all that happened?”

Annie doesn’t answer.

Smoke’s eyes narrow.

He recognizes the silence now.

She’s holding something back.

And he knows for a fact there’s more.

He heard what Annie and Michelle said earlier.

Whatever kept her at school wasn’t just some letter.

“Annie.”

She closes her eyes.

Smoke’s tone softens, but there’s firmness underneath it. “Come on, lil mama.” He lowers his voice. “Don’t hide nothing from me.”

Annie’s fingers tighten around the phone.

“Don’t give me half truths. I know something else happened.” He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to settle. “Spill it.”

Annie lets out a slow breath. “So…” She stares down at the comforter beneath her fingers. “When I went to my locker after school…”

Her voice grows quieter. “…somebody had spray painted hoe across it. Big black letters.”

Smoke goes completely still.

“I tried to wipe it off…” She swallows hard. “It wouldn’t come off.” A lump forms in her throat. “I know it was him.” She shakes her head even though he can’t see her. “I ain’t got no enemies.”

For a split second…Smoke doesn’t say anything. Then he sits upright so fast the mattress creaks beneath him. “He did what?”

His voice is low. Controlled.

But there’s an edge to it Annie hasn’t heard before.

“He… spray painted hoe on my locker.”

Smoke’s free hand curls into a fist so tight his knuckles damn near turn white.

A hot wave of anger rolls through him.

So that’s why she’d walked into work looking like the light had been taken out of her.

That’s why she hadn’t smiled.

Why she barely spoke.

His chest tightens.

She had every right to feel hurt.

Humiliated.

Some coward ass nigga had publicly tried to shame her because she wouldn’t take him back.

Smoke slowly exhales through his nose.

He’d never understood niggas who couldn’t accept rejection.

If a woman said she was done…She was done.

That was it. Harassing her. Following her. Trying to embarrass her.

That shit wasn’t love. That was ego.

And it made his blood boil.

His voice stays calm. Too calm. “What’s his name?”

Annie’s eyebrows knit together. “…Ryan.” A moment passes. .”Why?”

Smoke stares at the wall. “What he look like?”

Annie’s stomach drops.

Now she understands where his questions are headed.

She sits up. “No, Elijah.”

Her voice is gentle but firm. “I don’t want any problems.”

Smoke rubs his jaw. “Oh, there ain’t no problems.”

The way he says it doesn’t reassure her. If anything…It worries her more.

Silence stretches between them.

Finally Annie speaks again.

“…Are you mad?”

Smoke lets out a humorless chuckle. “Truthfully?” He pauses. Nah…”

His jaw flexes. “I’m pissed.”

Annie’s heart flutters. Not because he’s angry. Because she can hear it.

Not anger directed at her…Anger for her.

Nobody had ever sounded protective over her like that before.

She lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Smoke answers immediately.

“Nah.” His voice softens. “It ain’t you. Don’t apologize. You ain’t the one who did something wrong.”

Annie closes her eyes. “Okay.”

@lilbitt @lizbehave @myheartsaysyes @viciously-divine @girlmath101 @bananajoeclone @waitingtobreatheagain @xeebop @zunibugsiren @pastelprintessa

Part 2

[lizbehave]

I agree! Stack gotta get some deets lol, I’m pretty sure he knows Annie is still pure & that’s gonna make him even more curious 🧐

Oh, he definitely sniffed her out day one! And he gotta know what about her got his brother acting so different 😂😂

[lizbehave]

“Im gonna take good care of you” 😫 my heart! I’m all caught up! Could I be tagged plz. I hope is Elijah is soft/sweet with our girl at 1st, then goes in for the kill 😏 I just know Elias nosy ass gonna want some details 🤣

😫😫😫 Yes I'll add you to my taglist right now! You know Elias gon' definitely want ALL the details with his nosy self. 😂😂

Elijah will definitely be soft with her.............at first. But once she starts grabbing on that neck and speaking a different language to him? It's a wrap 😂😂😂

[lizbehave]

† The Priestess

Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.

Chapter 9 Desire—A Night-Blooming Flower

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

-

<- Chapter 8

-> Masterlist

*Song by Bud Spires

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!

@myheartsaysyes @nika324 @brownsugarcoffy @soufcakmistress @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dealore @thedutifulone @lilbitt @kkbeauty86 @nyifly22 @brownskincheyenne @atpeaceinthestars @explodesallovertheplace @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @margepimpson @sweetarchivistsiege @zunibugsiren @blue4everrsworld @xeebop @hdfen2474 @girlmath101 @sintizc @chromexbarbie @theogbadbitch @shereeluvssinners @anniensmoke3 @og-goddesstrill @thebumblebeesworld @merrymaryfebruary @partylikemajima @numb1smokeanniestan @shamansha @nicanotnika @hotebonynearby @dollys-world224 @waitingtobreatheagain @theegoldenchild @swuchiwa @bananajoeclone

[kkbeauty86]

Annie baby. I’m gon need you to go ahead and stretch. Smoke gon take you through there my baby. Bro been waiting patiently for my girl. 😩😭 I know it’s gon be slow and sweet. I’m so excited. I fear (in my Aniyah voice) Annie’s friends are as messy as me. 🥴😂

[lizbehave]

She don't even know what's coming. Poor thing 😂

[lizbehave]

We’re all ready for Elijah to lay pipe into Annie, I just hope Elias ass don’t interrupt again 🤣

Shit I been ready since Chapter 1 😫 I can't wait to share it!

And trust, Elijah will make SURE Elias don't interrupt them again cuz he was pissed. 😂😂😂 Had him like "wtf you doin' here?"

[theethighpriestess]

Little Miss Innocent

A/N: Let me start by thanking the lovely @rollingmyeyesatyou for submitting this request and for being the epitome of patience while waiting for me to get my shit together and write it. You're a gem & I hope I did your request justice.

Pairing: Smoke x Stack x OC (Candace “Candi” Reed)

Premise: Smoke & Stack are obsessed with the thought of turning out their “innocent” classmate. Little do they know, she’s more experienced than she leads on.

Warning(s): 18+, MDNI, Cursing, Smut, MMF Threesome, Piercing Kink, Teasing, BDSM Elements, Domme!OCxSub Smokestack Twins, Supernatural elements (Because I can't help myself)

Word Count: 3.6K

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Candace “Candi” Reed was a lot of things. Genius-level smart, whimsical, occasional pothead, and was the owner of the juiciest pussy in all of California (according to a few particularly generous subscribers to her Sweet Like Candi website).

What she wasn’t was late.

Ever.

Deadlines could be finessed, and content could be scheduled in advance, but showing up late to class legitimately made her skin crawl.

“Fuck.”

She should’ve never accepted the custom request. Well.. That wasn’t entirely true. Two thousand dollars was two thousand dollars, and it wasn’t like it had been anything complicated. Her favorite regular, BlackMamba69, had paid double for an uncensored body piercing tour, which he wanted done while she had her vibrating anal plug in. She’d shown off her butterfly nipple rings and matching belly ring, her back dermals, and her newest edition, her Christina. Filming had stretched well past 4 am, and somewhere between editing, exporting, and uploading it to her site, she’d mistakenly silenced all of her morning alarms.

Now, here she was sprinting across campus in a too tight, too short yellow mini sundress that had all of her upper body piercings on full display. To make matters worse, she’d forgotten to remove the plug before sprinting out of her campus apartment, a fact that became more evident with each hurried stride she took. And unbeknownst to her, the remote to it had been tossed into her bag along with her vlogging camera and mic.

“Ancestors, if y’all love me, this man will still have the door open and still be taking attendance,” she prayed silently as the door to her Abnormal Psychology class came into view.

Per usual, her request was granted.

Candi slipped inside as quietly as she could, taking her usual seat at the front of the class.

“Cutting it pretty close there, Ms. Reed,” Dr. Jordan remarked, bourbon and honey coating the lustful baritone of his voice.

“I know, and I sincerely apologize, Dr. Jordan,” Candi cooed sweetly as she walked to her seat. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again,” a teasing voice called from the back of the classroom. Elias Moore. Senior psychology major, basketball phenom, and one half of the duo that had been the muses to some of Candi’s most powerful orgasms to date. And sitting next to him was his twin, Elijah. The Smokestack Twins, as they’d become known around campus, transferred from Clarksdale, Mississippi, and had taken the West Coast by storm. All the girls wanted them and all the guys simultaneously wanted to be them. Candi just wanted to fuck them. At the same time. On camera.

“Shut up, Stack,” she replied with a playful eye roll before turning her attention to his twin.

“You in my seat, Elijah.”

“My lap’s available,” he returned with a sly grin. 

“Nah,” she purred, eyes flicking down for a split second to entertain the seat in question. “I’m cool.”

“Lying ass,” he mumbled under his breath before sliding over one seat.

“That’s a cute dress,” Stack admitted, dragging his eyes lustfully up and down her frame. “You should let me take it off you after class.”

“Careful, boy. You gone bite off more than you can chew.”

“I’m a big boy,” he boasted. “I’m more than capable of cleaning my plate.”

Candi bit her lip discreetly, clenching her thighs at the thought of him giving her back shots over the desk while his twin fucked her face. She shook the thought from her mind before taking the vacant seat between them.

As the rest of the class filed in and got settled, Dr. Jordan began the lecture.

“Today’s lecture subject is paraphilic disorders. By definition, paraphilic disorders are recurrent, intense, sexually arousing fantasies, urges, or behaviors that are distressing or disabling and involve inanimate objects, children, or nonconsenting adults, or suffering or humiliation of the person or a partner, with the potential to cause harm. According to the DSM-5, there are eight paraphilias that most commonly evolve into paraphilic disorders. The paraphilias are: voyeuristic disorder, exhibitionistic disorder, frotteuristic disorder, sexual masochism disorder, sexual sadism disorder, pedophilic disorder, fetishistic disorder, and transvestic disorder. While we’ll be covering all eight over the course of these next two weeks, today, we’ll be focusing on sexual sadism and sexual masochism.”

Candi leaned down to grab a notebook and pen from her bag. As she slid the notebook out, the remote to her vibrator clattered to the floor. 

“Now how did that—,” she wondered aloud as she bent down to pick it up.

“Hmm, what’s this?” Stack murmured with a raised eyebrow, snatching it from her hands.

“Give it back, Stack!” she whispered aggressively.

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll consider it,” he teased, holding it away from her.

“It’s the remote to my—my camera,” she lied.

“Camera, huh?” Smoke inquired. “Let me see that, Stack.”

He took the remote from his brother, twirling it between his thick fingers as he looked it over. He noted the buttons on the top and shot Candi a knowing glance.

“You sure this goes to your camera, Candace?”

The emphasis on her name made her insides quiver.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered.

“So you telling me, if I click this button,” he gestured to the plus sign at the top of the camera, “that it’ll activate ya lil camera?”

Candi’s eyes widened as his thick thumb clicked the button. The vibration sent a shockwave through her entire body, causing her to clench both sides of the desk to keep from screaming out loud. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, and although she wanted to delve into the habit of pushing them back up, she couldn’t. Her hands were occupied with the thick wood of the desk. Her ankles shook beneath her, and her breath hitched in audible arousal that she struggled to keep at bay in a classroom full of students. 

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way,” Stack’s deep baritone whispered from beside her. “Little Miss Innocent, Know-it-All got a vibrator in during class. You a filthy lil’ thing, ain’t you?”

“Turn it off,” she whimpered, looking up at Smoke with needy, pleading eyes.

“Absolutely not,” Smoke teased. “We just found out you be doing more than vlogging with that lil camera. We about to make some content, baby.” 

Somewhere between the definition of autoerotic asphyxiation and the treatment of sexual sadism, Stack’s fingers had found Candi’s clit and were rubbing slow circles on it while Smoke controlled the vibrator in her ass. They were both amazed at how well she’d been able to contain her moans, but it was obvious that she was close to coming undone. It was even more amazing to them that she’d indulged them by setting up her camera to record it all.

“You coming back to the room with us after class?” Stack purrs in her ear, slipping a finger into her dripping entrance. 

“Yeessss,” she hisses softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against her temple before pulling his hand away. Candi whined softly at the loss of contact, looking to Smoke for some type of reprieve. Out of her peripheral, as her body tried to come back down to earth, she noticed Stack licking his fingers discreetly. He hummed with a deep, primal baritone that sent a shiver up her spine. 

“Later, lil bit. Need you hot and ready when we leave here.”

This was unfair. A mutiny even. Candace was used to being the one in control and telling men what to do, yet here she was being brought to her knees by two Mississippi transplants. She had to get them back. She had to show them who was the true puppet master around here.

After an excruciatingly torturous hour and fifty minutes, the students gathered their belongings and started filing out of the classroom. Candace and the twins remained seated as they brought her close to the edge for the 5th time before pulling back.

“C-Can I have my remote back now? I have another class,” she whined.

“Aww, but we’re having so much fun, lil bit,” Stack taunted, slowly dragging his middle finger up her slick. “You sure you don’t wanna skip?”

“I can’t. I have a p–presentation.”

“Mmm, beauty and brains,” Smoke growled, increasing the intensity of the vibrator once more before shutting it off completely. “Go be great, lil fairy. We’ll catch up with you after practice.” He handed the remote back to her, and Candi watched in lustful awe as the twins made their way towards the gymnasium. 

The Moore twins had gotten entirely too comfortable thinking they could fluster her, and in public, no less. Somewhere between Elias' cocky grin and Elijah's maddeningly calm stare, they'd started believing they had the upper hand. Cute. Let them enjoy the illusion while it lasted. Candace Reed had built an entire career on reading men, finding their weaknesses, and making them fold with nothing more than an angelic smile. If the Smokestack Twins wanted to play games, she'd happily deal the first hand. They just didn't know they'd already sat down at her table.

Candace spent the rest of the afternoon planning and calculating. In between flashbacks of nearly cumming during her Abnormal Psychology lecture, she imagined all of the ways she’d have the twins all but drinking her bathwater once she was done with them. Under her innocent, good girl demeanor was a pleasure domme with an insatiable appetite for male tears. It made her chest swell with pride watching the biggest, toughest men turn into putty in her hands, oftentimes with little to no coercion. One of her favorite memories was with Keith Jones, the star quarterback. What had begun as an innocent study session on Sigmund Freud’s five stages of psychosexual development turned into Keith being cuffed to her bed with her pussy on his face and a vibrating dildo in his ass. She still couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to stimulate his prostate, but chunked it up to him being masochistic. Keith looooooved pain and bruising, and frequently visited her after winning games to boost his high. And each time, Candi happily obliged.

“I wonder if they’re into butt stuff,” she mused to herself as she made her way across the campus green to her apartment. Once inside, she lit her favorite vanilla shea candle and turned on her Bondage Sex & Cheerios playlist to set the mood.

“See, I just want your hands around my throoooat,” she harmonized with Ari Lennox as she made her way to the bathroom to shower. She lathered her skin with her homemade strawberry peach body wash before rinsing the day away beneath the steaming water. Once she’d finished, she moisturized from head to toe, spritzed herself with Good Girl Blush by Carolina Herrera, and slipped into a white button-up blouse tucked neatly into a black pleated mini skirt. She rolled a pair of black fishnet stockings over her chocolate legs before slipping on a pair of black patent So Kate Louboutin pumps. A gold rosary settled perfectly between her supple breasts, the cross stopping at the base of her black lace bra, while a few layered gold rings and tiny gold hoops completed the look.

Looking the picture of innocence, she allowed her mind to fantasize about the morning’s events. She closed her eyes and imagined Stack’s thick fingers pumping deep inside of her sex as Smoke toyed with the speed and intensity of the anal vibe. She remembered the delicious torture of each orgasm she was denied, mentally tallying the number she’d set for the two of them when the time came. A sinful grin spread across her face as she imagined Smoke on his knees worshipping her body like the fairy goddess she was. After a final once-over, Candi grabbed her tote bag and left her apartment.

The smell of strawberries and bad decisions trailed behind her as she climbed the steps to the second floor, the clink of her So Kates echoing through the breezeway. She adjusted the strap of the tote, her mind still replaying flashbacks of the morning. The teasing. The way they’d somehow exposed the crack in her armor. Stack’s charisma living in his mouth and Smoke’s gaze steady enough to make you submit without a second thought. 

She remembered how her eyes dropped to their laps. Two heavy, unmistakable ridges stretching the fabric of their joggers. But it was the unique blunt bulges that weren’t as identical as their faces. The bulges didn’t just point; there was a thick, curved silhouette that suggested a dick designed to specifically arc into the deepest, most sensitive parts of a pussy. All Candi could recall through the haze of her edging torture was the thought of what it would feel like to be stretched by those curves. To have them both so deep she couldn’t form thoughts.

It still irritated her. She was determined to make the Mississippi boys regret ever toying with her. By the time she reached apartment 2B, the corners of her mouth had curled into a devilish smile. Whatever they thought was about to happen when she knocked on that door, she intended to make sure they were wrong. Candace raised her hand and knocked three times, the sharp raps carrying through the apartment before she folded her arms and waited.

Smoke answered the door shirtless, the diamonds in his Cuban link choker catching the porch light just enough to make Candace pause for a second. He exhaled slowly through his nose, filling the space between them briefly with weed smoke. He didn’t hide the way his eyes hungrily drug across her frame, lingering a moment too long on the rosary before letting them drift back to her face.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he stared down at her.

“Toys. Wanna play with me?” she purred as she pushed past him and into the apartment. Her eyes found Stack manspreading on the couch with a blunt hanging from his lips. He was also shirtless, his chain nestled between his pecs. Candi mentally drooled. 

“So you came into the tiger’s den dressed like prey?” he growled, his thick Mississippi drawl amplified by the weed smoke.

“Is that what I did?” Candi asked, feigning ignorance. “And here I was thinking I just looked cute.”

“Cute ain’t the right word. Immaculate is more like it,” Smoke’s deep baritone called from behind her, caging her in between him and his brother.

“I asked a question that neither of you answered,” Candi noted, slipping from their clutches to place her tote on the coffee table.

“What kind of game did you have in mind?” Stack inquired, attempting to peek in the tote.

“The kind where the two of you bend to my every command,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elias threw his head back, the roar of his laugh echoing off the walls while Elijah tried his hardest to contain his dimpled smirk. Candace didn’t see the joke. In fact, it only fueled her lustful wrath.

“C’mon guys, it’ll be fun,” she pressed, rubbing a gentle hand down Smoke’s chest.

“Aight, sweet cheeks,” he purred softly in her ear. “I’ll indulge. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Candace slid her hand up his torso, stopping at the base of his throat. She squeezed ever so slightly before leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“On your knees,” she cooed, feeling the reservation in his body.

“Nah, I prefer to stand,” he challenged, carefully placing her arm back to her side. Candace only chuckled before pushing him down on the couch, the heel of her So Kate digging into his chest before he could process the action. Smoke’s lips curled into a dangerous snarl as he stared down at her foot, then back to her face. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn she heard a faint whimper escape the back of his throat.

Got him.

“Choose your next move carefully, lil bit,” Smoke warned as his dick strained against the fabric of his pajama pants.

“Ain’t nobody worried about you or your lookalike, Mr. Moore.”

“You sure about that?” Stack called from behind her. “You playing a dangerous game right now, ma.”

“I know,” she giggled softly. “But unlike the two of you, I’m going to win.” She drove her heel deeper into Smoke’s chest, watching the ragged breaths escape him in waves. He was ready to pounce, and she knew it.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you, Elijah?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” he corrected.

“You are,” she agreed. “But first, I want to have some fun.”

Candace’s heels clicked loudly against the hardwood as she disappeared into the dining room. Both twins’ heads snapped up when the scrape of furniture echoed from the darkness.

“Fuck she doing?” Stack muttered.

“Hell if I know,” Smoke answered, eyes narrowing as the scraping sound grew closer. The little fairy appeared moments later, dragging two wooden chairs behind her with surprising ease. She positioned them in the middle of the living room, nudging and positioning them until they sat perfectly back to back. Once the task was complete, she turned back towards the two confused men, an impish grin spreading across her innocent face.

“How do y’all feel about rope?”

Her fingers snapped before either of them could process what had happened. Not only were they both seated in the chairs, but their hands were tied behind their backs and to one another. Instinctively, they each tested the restraints, growing annoyed when the realization hit that they were moving in tandem.

“How the fuck you do that?” Stack growled, tugging harder at his restraints.

“Just a little fairy magic,” Candace replied with a nod. “Now be still before you give the both of you rope burn.”

As Stack glared at her lustfully, Smoke’s expression remained stoic. Though he was horny as fuck, there was no way he was about to be caught slipping twice in one night… Or so he thought.

2 hours and five delayed orgasms later, Smoke was about to burst. He stared up at Candace with awestruck eyes as she rode him like the mechanical bull at the county fair. He desperately wanted to touch her, to lock his hands around her waist and bounce her until they both exploded, but he couldn’t. She relished every second of it, alternating between fast-paced bounces and gentle slow grinds. Smoke was in heaven. Her walls hugged him like they were made for his curve, her slick coating his shaft in the warmest river of pleasure. She slid a delicate hand up his chest, stopping once again at the base of his throat.

“Papa,” she purred sweetly.

“Yeh baby?”

“What would happen if I did this?” His eyes widened as she gripped his chain, twisting so that it choked him ever so slightly. His hips bucked up into her, pulling a deep, guttural moan from the back of her throat.

“Mmm, I like that,” she cooed, twisting tighter.

“Candiiiiii,” Stack hissed, not sure if he would be able to hold back being brought to the edge for a sixth time. While Smoke had been buried deep inside of Candi’s sugar walls, Stack had been blindfolded and forced to listen to it all. His imagination ran wild with images of what could possibly be happening just behind him. 

While Smoke’s right-curving dick stroked deep into the back of her pussy, Candace ogled Stack’s neglected dick. That made her pussy clamp tighter around Smoke, causing him to groan. Both of them were almost as wide as her wrist, mapped with thick, throbbing veins that coiled around the girth like vines. Stack leaked pre cum while Smoke tried to maneuver his hips to thrust up, but Candace’s downward bounce left him immobile. She felt so powerful and sensual all at once. 

“Aww, both of the babies are on edge,” she taunted. “That’s cute.” She slowed her hips in Smoke’s lap before standing up completely, the loss of contact making him groan in defeat. “Good boys…now, just breathe. Stay hard for me. I want you to remember that I’m the one who decides when you get to cum.” 

“Look, we’re sorry for earlier,” Stack pleaded. “We was just fuckin’ around. Please just let a nigga bust.”

“And you promise you’ll never do that to me again?”

“We promise,” they replied in unison.

Candi giggled softly as she snapped her fingers again, removing their restraints. Smoke instantly reached out and grabbed her, positioning her back on his leaking tip while Stack settled in the back of her throat. He gripped her locs and fucked her face relentlessly while his twin rocked into her like a fuck doll. Candace was in sexual bliss. She’d never expected her fantasy to play out like this, and she also wasn’t mad at it. 

“Look at you,” Stack admired, stroking her cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You throating that dick like you wanna own it. You claimin’ my shit, Candi?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as Smoke’s curve drummed her g-spot with expert precision. Stack smacked her face lightly to bring her back to reality.

“I asked you a question, Candi. You tryna make this your dick?”

She looked up at him with those big doe eyes, and for a second, his resolve slipped. Candace noticed, reaching up to wrap her hand around the base of his shaft. She stroked and sucked his dick to the pace that Smoke set beneath her, causing Stack to go wild.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he roared, thrusting his length deeper down her throat.

Candi pulled off with an audible pop, still stroking his length slowly.

“You close, Stack?”

“So fucking close, Candi,” he panted.

She turned her gaze to Smoke, whose bottom lip was swollen and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it.

“You too?”

“I hope ya IUD workin’ otherwise, you bouta have a Moore baby,” was all he said before a final thrust released his seed deep into her walls. The motion sparked a domino effect, with Candi squirting all over Smoke’s lower half while Stack’s unborn seed painted her esophagus. She swallowed it all, staring up at him with the most innocent, angelic expression.

“You dangerous, ma,” he chuckled, rubbing his tip back and forth across her lips.

“Just the way y’all like it.”

Tags: @blackpantherismyish @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theegoldenchild @imagining-greatness @soufcakmistress @lizbehave @myheartsaysyes @chromexbarbie @moundbayou @dashhoney25 @theogbadbitch @xeebop @tatelangdonsweater @aretasreads @omgffs @thickemadame @melodyofmbaku @adultinginheels @brownsuugahh @brownsugarcoffy @aizawash0e @blktinkerbell @tatelangdonsweater @thedutifulone @empressdede @midnightmemoirsofher

[devotedlydarkstrawberry]

I'll See You Next Lifetime

Part I

Ruby sat with her back against the windowsill. It was hot as hell in Chicago this summer and it only seemed to get hotter with each passing day. Her sister Lettie had returned from a trip to their brother's home with their childhood friend Tic. Ruby knew she would be back. Lettie could never sit still in one place for too long. Plus she knew her brother wouldn't exactly welcome her with open arms since Lettie had missed their mother's funeral. Their brother was known to hold a mean grudge and he was mad as hell when Lettie wasn't there. Although Ruby couldn't completely fault her.

They each had a complicated relationship with their mother. She would often leave her children at home as she traveled and entertained. Her friends and parties took a substantial amount of her attention. Leaving little time to her children.

Ruby and Lettie's mother was a stunning woman with warm skin and expressive eyes. A Creole woman by way of Louisiana, it was rumored that they came from a long line of hoodoo workers and voodoo priestesses. Ruby really didn't know because they never had much contact with their mother's family. It was as if she wanted to erase her past.

Disappearing into Chicago from down South, she used her beauty to gain favor with the elite of Chicago. Their mother was never without a suitor. Wealthy businessmen from the north side of Chicago often would darken her doorstep under the cover of night. They gifted her with the finest perfumes, furs and gems. They would give her anything her heart desired. Well anything but to openly be seen with a Creole woman.

It was rumored that Lettie was actually the daughter of one of those wealthy businessmen. Their mother never confirmed or denied the truth of this statement. Her sister's light creamy skin and silkier hair set her apart from her sister. Ruby did not hate her sister but she often wondered what life would be like with the privilege of lighter skin.

Ring. Ring.

Ruby was jarred from her thoughts. She let out a breath as she pick up the phone with her hand. Placing it to her ear, she said, "Hello."

"Is this Ruby?," drawled the speaker.

"Yes it is."

"This is Stack. I was wondering if I could see you tonight."

"Listen Stack. You may be a nice man but..."

"But...what?"

"I don't wanna waste your time..."

"You don't want to waste my time? Listen baby you'll never waste my time. Matter of fact I have all of eternity."

Ruby let out a low breath. Stack was charming she had to admit to herself.

"So what do you say? I can get us a table at Club DeLisa. They play jazz and tonight is special. Preacherboy will be playing the blues."

Ruby thought for a moment. She loved the blues. It reminded her of the few happy memories she had with her family. Her mama would put on a blues record and she would dance in circles in the living room of the two bedroom apartment with her sister as their giggles filled the air. Their mother would gyrate her hips as her pearly white teeth shined and her eyes sparkled. Their brother would strum his guitar to the music. Yeah those were happy memories.

"So...what do you say?"

"Uhm...yes. I would love to go to listen to the blues with you."

"Well it's gonna be a real ring a ding ding. I'll be there as soon as the sun sets to take you."

[lizbehave]

So good! Love this crossover.

[devotedlydarkstrawberry]

I'll See You Next Lifetime

His breath caught in his throat. Or as much breath as the undead could have. There she stood before him...Annie...but that was impossible because Annie was gone. Long gone like his...He couldn't bring himself to say it.

With a hand on her hip and a snap of her finger he was entranced. The royal blue of her dress flowed against her rich skin. Her red lips and bright smile made his feet feel like cement. He wanted to bask in her presence. She reminded himself of what he was missing...home...The Delta.

He hadn't returned in years since that night. He had followed his little cousin Sammie to Chicago. He had made his brother a promise. A promise he would keep until the end. Watch after Sammie. Let him live his life.

He was always there. In the shadows watching over him. That's what led him here to her. Sammie was set to play later tonight and he wanted to see him perform.

She belted. "Come on over baaaabay. Cooooome on over..." Stack's attention was brought back to the present. To her. She swayed back and forth on stage with a woman singing. Together they looked like swirls of caramel and chocolate. A flurry of red and blue with shining eyes and beautiful smiles.

He had to speak to her. He made his way to the stage as she exited along the stairs with the woman from earlier. There appeared to a tense exchange between the two. Stack could sense the familiarity between the two but also the disconnect. The other woman walked past himself without so much as a glance. He moved into the path of Annie...

"Shit," he thought. He knew her name wasn't Annie but fuck if she didn't remind him of her. She looked at him with big doe eyes and an arched brow.

"Can I help you?" She firmly stated and tensed her body as if preparing to defend herself. She was obviously was still tense from her previous conversation.

His mind went completely blank. He stuttered. Stack never stammered. He always had a slick word. But he was speechless.

"Uh...hmm...I mean my name is Stack."

"Okay...Stack can I help you or...?" Her impatience with him taking up her time emphasized as the or rolled off her tongue. She had an important thing to prepare for. She was finally going to the department store to apply.

"I just wanted to introduce myself." He ran a hand down his face and shuffled from side to side. He collected his thoughts and gave a bright smile. The twinkle of his gold tooth bounced against the city lights.

"You sang mighty fine up there."

"Mighty fine? You must not be from here." Ruby quickly picked up on the southern drawl of his voice. It was slow and sweet like molasses. "Hmmm," she thought, "these country men keep coming up to Chicago hoping and praying for a better life. Chicago the same as Mississippi. Just with tall buildings."

"Well thank you," she said. "I must get going. I have something important to do." Stack moved his feet as Ruby attempted to move around him. Slightly disconcerted, Ruby lifted her eyes to meet him.

"I was just wondering if I could call on you some time?"

"Call on me? Yeah you are definitely not from here. Listen I don't have much time and I have places to be. Now could you kindly move."

Stack felt the slight sting of rejection but refused to allow that to deter him.

He said, "Yes call on you. You look like a proper lady. I would never want to disrespect you or your time. I just want a few moments with ya."

Ruby knew he wouldn't let up until she agreed so she huffed, "Fine."

Stack grinned even brighter placing a tooth pick in his mouth.

[lizbehave]

† The Priestess

Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.

Chapter 9 Desire—A Night-Blooming Flower

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

-

<- Chapter 8

-> Masterlist

*Song by Bud Spires

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!

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