Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language. TW: Scenes focused on abortion. Drunk diving. Some mild violence.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
FYI: Yes, I'm aware of the drama going on IRL involving this man. However, I plan on finishing this story 'cause way too much of my time has been invested and I'm leaving here with something. I do understand if y'all no longer what to finish this with me ♡
Chapter 8: Some Unholy War
...back at Jey & Tutor's house
The low hum of the vacuum cleaner dragged across the floor in steady lines, mixing with Tutor’s soft humming as she moved from one corner of the living room to the next. It was a sound Jey had grown used to, something that once brought a strange sense of order to his life, but today it grated against him in a way he couldn’t explain.
His leg bounced up and down where he sat on the couch, jaw tight as he tried to keep whatever was building in his chest from spilling out.
Tutor was doing what she always did. Sundays were for deep cleaning. She moved through the house like it was second nature, making sure everything was in its place, everything spotless.
At one point, he had loved that about her. She handled his home the way he thought a woman should which was quietly, consistently, and without complaint.
But somewhere along the way, something had shifted. Now every little thing she did rubbed him the wrong way.
She cooked his favorite meals, but they didn’t hit the same anymore. She ironed his clothes, but he found himself thinking the cleaners could’ve done it better. Even the way she kissed him had changed in his mind, like the feeling behind it just wasn’t enough.
Nights were the worst. Lying next to her felt like an obligation instead of comfort.
The truth was out in the open if Tutor knew it or not. She was competing with something she couldn’t see just yet, a ghost from his past that refused to stay buried. And she was losing.
“Aye!”
His voice cut through the room sharper than he intended.
Tutor turned quickly, startled, the vacuum still humming in her hand before she switched it off.
Jey shook his head almost immediately, running a hand over his face.
“Yes, babe?” she asked, cautious but gentle.
His eyes moved around the room like he was looking for something to ground him before finally settling on her small frame.
“I ain’t mean to shout at you, mamas,” he said. “I just need to holla at you for a minute about something.”
Tutor nodded and walked over, setting the vacuum aside before sitting next to him on the couch. She turned her body toward him, giving him her full attention, waiting.
Something in his chest tightened when he looked at her. For a split second, he almost reconsidered. But the words had already been sitting on his tongue too long.
He cleared his throat. “Shit in the streets getting worse. I ain’t really sure how it’s gon’ play out, so I need something from you.”
Tutor didn’t interrupt. She just listened, her hand resting lightly against his leg.
“I’ma go stay at the spot in the South for a while till things cool off,” he continued. “I need you to hold down the house while I’m gone. I’ll still slide through; check on you like I always do. I just can’t lay my head here for a minute.”
The explanation came out smooth, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold her gaze while he said it. It wasn’t a complete lie. Things in the streets had been tense. But that wasn’t the real reason he needed distance.
Tutor’s hand moved gently over his leg, slow and reassuring. “It’s really gotten that bad, huh?” she asked quietly.
Then she nodded to herself. “Okay. I trust you know what you know best. Just remember to check in on me when you get some time.”
Jey’s chest ached.
Tutor was being understanding, steady, giving him no pushback. And there he was, feeding her half-truths because he couldn’t be honest about where his mind really was. About whom it kept going back to.
“I appreciate you, baby,” he said, voice lower now. “You the best. Drive the Lexus. Use the money in the safe when you need it. And be careful when you out.”
He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before standing up to pack a bag. But before he could take more than a step, Tutor was already moving.
“I got it,” she said softly.
She moved toward the bedroom without hesitation, already thinking ahead, already taking care of him the way she always did. Jey stood there for a second, watching her go, something heavy settling deeper in his chest.
What was he doing?
He dropped back onto the couch, rubbing at his temples as he listened to her moving around in the bedroom, gathering his things. The house was quiet now, the vacuum gone, replaced with the soft rustle of clothes being folded and drawers opening and closing.
In the middle of everything going wrong in his world, he knew one thing for sure; he had it good here. Everything a man like him who did what he did needed when he took a break from the streets.
But none of that mattered. Because his heart kept pulling him in the same direction it always had.
Back to her. Back to Nyeya.
And the more he tried to ignore it, the clearer it became that wanting her wasn’t something he was willing to let go of.
Not this time.
Not at all.
06|11|2002
Tuesday started off like any other day for me. I woke up late after a night at the club, my body still sore in that way it always was after hours of dancing. It had been a little over a week since I moved into my place, and I had finally settled into a routine. I’d come home, shower, eat, and lay down. After a nap, I’d get up, count my money, and stash it away. And that was how my days went until it was time to go to work again.
I sat on the living room floor with my duffle bag open beside me, pulling out stacks of bills and straightening them one by one before stacking them neat. All My Children played low on the TV, the voices rising and falling in the background, catching my attention here and there but not enough to pull me in. I was halfway through a stack when my phone rang.
I reached over, picking it up when I saw Natasha’s name. “Hey, boo.”
“Hey,” she answered.
Something in her voice made me pause. It wasn’t her usual tone. It was off like something was weighing on her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up a little straighter.
Natasha sighed before speaking again. “It’s Taya. She really don’t want me to say it over the phone, but she need you to meet us somewhere later. She got an appointment. An important one. And she want us all there.”
I nodded slowly even though she couldn’t see me, not fully understanding what she was trying to say but already knowing it wasn’t small. My mind tried to piece it together anyway. Maybe a doctor’s appointment. Maybe something with the baby. That made the most sense.
“Aight,” I said. “Just tell me the address and the time. I’ll be there.”
She gave me both before we hung up.
I sat there for a second after the call ended, staring down at the money in my hands before I went back to counting like nothing had shifted. When I finished, I slid some into my purse like I always did and stashed the rest away.
The appointment wasn’t until two, so I had time. I spent it moving between the couch and the laundry, trying not to think too hard about the what was to come.
By the time I left the house, it was around 1:30. The drive over to the west side was an uneventful one. Until I pulled into the lot.
The building itself didn’t look like much, tucked between a couple smaller nondescript medical buildings. But the sign over the building I was supposed to meet everybody at was clear as day.
Planned Parenthood.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
That conversation from one our their nights out came rushing back from when Tasha reminded Taya of she could do since she wasn't ready for motherhood. My chest tightened as everything started falling in place.
“Nah,” I muttered to myself, gripping the steering wheel. “That ain’t it. They do other stuff too.”
I sat there for a moment, trying to steady my breathing, trying to convince myself I was jumping to something that wasn’t there. But the longer I stared at that sign, the harder it was to ignore.
Kiyah’s car pulled up beside mine, snapping me out of it.
I got out, meeting her as she leaned against her car, confusion written all over her face.
“Girl, why are we here?” she asked. “Taya got money for a real doctor.”
I looked at her for a second before answering, my voice quieter than I expected. “Why else do people come here?”
Kiyah took a pull from her blunt, blowing the smoke out slowly as she looked at me. It took a second, but I saw it click.
Her eyes widened. “You really think she about to go through with it?”
I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t know but because saying it out loud made it real. So, I just looked off toward the building, my chest feeling tighter the longer we stood there.
It wasn’t long before Tasha’s Benz pulled into the lot, Taya sitting in the passenger seat. And just like that whatever the reason was, it was about to happen.
The look on Taya’s face said everything before a word could be spoken. And when she all but collapsed into my arms, I knew. I didn’t ask no questions.
I just held her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head while the other rubbed slow circles along her back, trying to steady something that wasn’t steady at all.
Inside, the building felt like any other doctor’s office. The staff were polite, welcoming even, but none of that settled what sat heavy on my shoulders. Taya’s soft sniffles filled the space between us while I kept my arms wrapped around her. Tasha took over without being told, stepping up to the front desk and handling the paperwork for her sister like any sibling would do in a situation like this.
We weren’t the only ones there. Another couple sat off to the side, speaking in low voices, and a girl who looked about our age sat by herself, staring straight ahead like she was trying to focus on anything, but where she was. It made everything feel real in a way I wasn’t ready for.
After Tasha turned the papers in, it wasn’t long before a nurse called Taya back. Just for vitals and routine stuff, she said. I watched Taya walk off, her shoulders small, like she was trying to take up less space than she already did.
Time dragged after that.
When she came back, her eyes were red, cheeks damp. I stood up without thinking and pulled her right back into me, holding her just as tight as before. Nobody said much. There wasn’t much to say. We just sat there waiting again, the clock on the wall ticking louder than it should’ve been.
Then her name got called again.
This time was for the actual procedure. We all stood. Kiyah, Tasha, and me. We wrapped Taya up in a group hug, and I leaned down just enough to whisper a small prayer against her temple, my words quiet but my hope was that they brought her peace.
When the nurse guided her back, something in my heart broke for her.
Kiyah and Tasha stepped outside not long after, saying they needed some air. I stayed. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. I just sat there in that waiting room, hands folded tight in my lap, staring at nothing while my mind tried not to wander too far into what was happening behind those doors.
I didn’t know exactly what was going on back there.
But I knew enough.
Kiyah and Tasha came back a few minutes later, both of them sitting close on each side of me. The silence didn’t last long.
“This for the best,” Tasha said, her voice low but firm. “Jimmy trapped Taya into having another baby before she was ready. This her chance to do what’s best for her since he ain’t care.”
It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
Kiyah shook her head slightly. “When y’all gon’ tell Jimmy? That fool still gon’ think she pregnant, especially since she ain’t staying with him right now.”
I glanced between them, wondering the same thing.
Tasha looked at us both. “For now, she not telling him. I told her to wait until she ready. It ain’t like she going home anytime soon.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, my jaw tightening. All I could think about was Jimmy finding out. The way he’d react. Just the thought alone had my stomach doing flips.
“Well, whenever he do find out,” Kiyah muttered. “We gon’ be there. ‘Cause you already know he gon’ act an ass.”
She wasn’t wrong. And as much as I didn’t want to think about it, I knew that day was coming. And when it did we’d have to deal with the fallout.
A nurse finally came out, calling our attention. She told us Taya was in recovery and that only one person could come back to sit with her while they monitored her. Tasha didn’t even hesitate. She stood up and followed the nurse, leaving me and Kiyah behind.
Kiyah reached over and grabbed my hand, and I squeezed hers back. We sat there like that in silence.
We were grown. But this type of thing felt too grown. Like something we shouldn’t have had to deal with yet or at all.
Time ticked away slowly. It was another thirty minutes before Tasha came back out with Taya. Both me and Kiyah stood up at the same time. Taya looked fragile. Like if you touched her she might fall apart completely. Tasha handled the rest of the details at the front desk while Taya just stood there, looking off in the distant, like she wasn’t fully present anymore.
Once everything was done, we walked out together. It was already understood we were going back to Tasha’s place.
My ride over there was quiet. I hadn’t even turned on the radio. My mind heavy with thoughts I couldn’t quite sort through. I didn’t even know how to feel. However, I knew whatever I thought I should be feeling didn’t even scratch the surface of what Taya was going through.
At the apartment, we all moved like we were on autopilot. Tasha went straight to the room to fix up the bed Taya had been sleeping in. Kiyah moved into the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans to cook so Tasha didn’t have to. And I was the one who stayed with Taya.
We sat on the couch, and I kept her tucked into my side, my arm wrapped around her like if I let go she might slip through the cracks. Everything felt delicate. Like one wrong word could break what little was holding her together.
She didn’t touch the food Kiyah made.
Her tears came quiet, uninterrupted. The kind that didn’t need sound to let you know how deep the pain ran. And I knew food wasn’t fixing that. Nothing we had in that moment could.
“Come on,” I whispered softly, helping her up. “Let’s lay down for a minute.”
I was guiding her to the bedroom to the bed when her eyes flicked to a picture of her and Jimmy which sat on the nightstand.
And that’s when she broke.
“I— I killed my baby,” she cried out, her voice cracking open the room. “I killed my baby. Our baby. God I'm sorry!”
She dropped to the floor like her body couldn’t hold her up anymore.
I was right there, dropping down with her, pulling her into me before she could fold in on herself completely. I didn’t know that kind of pain. I couldn’t pretend to. But I felt it in the way she shook against me, in the way her hands clutched at my shirt like she was trying to hold onto something.
Kiyah and Tasha rushed in instantly, both of them dropping down beside us without hesitation. Nobody really knew what to say to ease her pain. There weren’t any right words for something like that.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, rocking her gently. “It’s alright. God forgives, Taya.”
I didn’t know if that was enough. But it was all I could count on to be true because God did understand even if we didn’t.
We stayed there on the floor, the four of us wrapped up together, holding onto Taya while she grieved. Time passed without any of us noticing, the room filled with nothing but quiet voices, soft reassurances, and the sound of a heart trying to piece itself back together.
…hours later
I sat at the vanity in the locker room surrounded by the chatter of women getting ready for the night shift at Sugah’s, and all I could think was that I should’ve stayed home after I left Tasha’s. But being alone wasn’t something I wanted to do. Not after everything that had transpired earlier.
Living by myself at a time like such made me miss being at home with my family in a way I hadn’t let myself sit with until then.
So, there I was, four shots of Hennessy in, doing everything I could not to look too hard at myself in the mirror while I got ready to go out there and dance. By then I had gotten used to numbing instead of confronting. Tonight wasn’t no different. All those feelings inside my head could stay tangled up a little longer because I wasn’t ready to unravel none of it yet.
The pain I felt for Taya gnawed at me. It sat low in my stomach and twisted every time I thought too hard about the decision she had to make on her own. She’d have to live with that guilt alone as well.
I couldn’t sit with that, so I decided I was going to work. Dance till my feet hurt if I had to. Let the music do what it always did for me. Let the attention and praise from whoever I came across that night lift my spirits, even if I knew that kind of high never lasted long.
As I rubbed scented body oil down my thighs, a tear slipped out before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly, almost irritated with myself, and picked up my pace. The sooner I got out there, the sooner I could leave my emotions behind.
So that’s what I did. I walked through the locker room with my head low but my stride steady, like I wasn’t holding anything at all.
“Hot Boyz” by Missy started catching my hips before I even made it all the way up the stage steps. The lights shifted into dark purple and pink, flashing over my skin and making everything look softer than it really was.
Once I was on that stage, my body took over. I dropped, rolled, bent, and worked that pole like I had been born for it. Money started fluttering down around me while I slid across the stage, making eye contact with the people crowded around it, all of them locked into what I was giving them.
And when the DJ spun Missy into some funky remix of Janet Jackson’s “I Get Lonely,” I really put on a show. My hands ran slowly over my own skin. My eyes teased. My hips moved to that beat in a way that had people reaching deeper into their pockets.
I was gone by then. Not physically, but mentally. Completely checked out while my body kept doing exactly what it knew how to do.
When my set ended, Sugah was there clapping for me with that pleased look he got whenever one of his girls did what needed to be done.
“Girl, I ain’t seen nobody who could sell a dream so good in a minute. You keep that up and Sugah Bear gon’ make sure you reap all the sweets.”
That made me smile for real, especially with that black trash bag of money in my hand proving he wasn’t just hyping me up. The things he was promising were coming to fruition right before my eyes.
Back in the locker room, the girls hyped me up the second I came through the door, and I let myself enjoy it for what it was.
After I stashed my money away in my duffle, I freshened up and changed clothes. It didn’t take long for Sugah to pop his head back in and let me know I had somebody waiting for me in VIP. I nodded, rubbing on more body oil before slipping my heels back on. One more look in the mirror to make sure everything was in place and I was out the door.
When I saw Andrzej, I smiled without even trying. He was always a good distraction. He sat there dressed down in Ralph Lauren from the shirt to the duck boots on his feet, Cartier glasses catching the light every time he moved.
I took my time walking over because I could feel his eyes on me, roaming all over my body, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like being the center of his attention. Soon as I got close enough, he pulled me into his lap. I didn’t mind that at all.
For a while, we sat there drinking the bottle of Courvoisier he already had waiting, not saying much, just being in each other’s space. By then my head was already in the clouds. The liquor had softened everything, knocked the sharpest edges off the night.
One of Andrzej’s fingers grazed my thigh while he looked me dead in my eyes.
“You one of the most beautiful things I done laid my eyes on in a while.”
I giggled, feeling shy all of a sudden. “There’s a lot of beautiful women walking around. I’m sure I’m not the only one.”
He licked his lips before saying something I wasn’t ready for. “Maybe so, but none of them make scars look so good. You carry your pain well.”
I stiffened the second his hand moved over the healed wound on my side. I knew my scars were there. Knew people saw them. But nobody had ever said nothing about them out loud, not like that. I ain’t even know what to say, but he must’ve felt me tense because he spoke again.
“Relax, baby. I got a few scars of my own. We here though. And that’s all that matters, right?”
I sat with that for a second before nodding. Because I had made it. Even though I probably shouldn’t have, I did. We didn’t get to stay in that moment long though because his phone rang. He sighed without even looking at it, like he already knew who it was.
Then he gave me this pensive look that made me pout a little.
“You gotta leave me. I understand, boo”
He smiled at that. I slid off his lap so he could reach beside him and grab the stacks of money he always kept for me. I hadn’t even dance for him and he was still just as generous.
Andrzej didn’t say nothing else. He just pulled me into a hug and placed a kiss on my temple before leaving. That was new, but I couldn’t even lie, I ain’t feel no way about it like I probably would have if it was anybody else.
Once he was gone, I plopped back onto the little couch, my head swimming from the alcohol. For a second I thought about going home. But home meant being alone, and being alone still wasn’t something I was looking forward to.
So, I told myself one more stage set and then I’d call it a night. I gathered my cash from Andrzej into my arms and headed back to the locker room for one more outfit change.
It seemed like all that alcohol I had been drinking hit me the second I sat down at the vanity back in the locker room. I dropped my head into my hands and just sat there feeling the weight of it. It was hard to even open my eyes.
“Here, boo. Take this to feel better.”
I lifted my head a little and saw Mocha standing there holding out a BC powder and a bottle of water. I smiled and thanked her before tearing the packet open. That nasty stuff hit my tongue and had me making a face before I chased it quickly with the water.
Relief would come soon. That little combination always did what it needed to do when I got myself in a state like such.
I turned my attention to Mocha once I got myself together enough to sit up straight. She had taken the seat next to me and was counting out a thick stack of cash sitting in front of her.
“You did good tonight, huh? Money must still be out there,” I said.
Mocha grinned and waved me off. “Girl, that money left the building. My best customer dropped in and blessed my game though. I wouldn’t have made nothing serious if it wasn’t for him.”
I nodded because I knew exactly what that meant. I knew she had a trick, even though I had never seen him. She talked about him often enough though to know he was basically what Andrzej was to me.
The kind of man that spent on you in the club and outside of it too if that was your thing. Every dancer needed one of those, especially on a slow night. Back at my old club, I had a few as well.
Mocha and I kept talking until I decided I felt good enough to go back out on the floor and see if there was still something to be made.
Mocha stayed behind with some wings Ms. Tina had made. Ms. Tina was the other house mom at Sugah’s besides Mrs. Deb, and between the two of them, somebody was always around to make sure we had something to eat.
When I stepped back into the main part of the club, my eyes moved over the room automatically, taking in who was left. It had to be almost one in the morning. A few dancers, a few customers, not much else. The crowd had mostly died down.
So, I headed to the bar.
Malik was bartending that night since Tommie only worked weekends. I sat there talking with him for a while, throwing back a couple more shots even though I knew better. I really did. But knowing better and doing better wasn’t always the same thing with me.
I knew I had messed up the second I tried to stand and the whole world shifted sideways.
“Damn,” I muttered.
“You gon’ be good to drive?”
That voice made my heart drop straight into my stomach.
I turned quick and there was Solo, smirking at me like he had been standing there the whole time. My mind started running immediately.
Where had he come from? How long had he been there?
And there I was barely covered in that mesh dress with that little bikini underneath doing more showing than covering. I tried to pull at it without making it obvious.
“What business do the Prada Bois have in a booty club?” I asked, already annoyed.
Questions started piling up in my head right behind that one. Had Jey told them I worked there? Had he sent Solo? I slid back into my seat, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence in a way that irritated me more because I couldn’t hide it.
Solo leaned against the bar, one hand around a glass with something brown in it. “I mean, there’s a few reasons we’d be up in here. But if it make anything better, I ain’t know you’d be up in here.”
I cut my eyes at him.
He wasn’t even looking at me like that. His eyes kept shifting away like he was trying to be respectful, which somehow made me feel even more flustered.
“So, Jey didn’t send you here?”
That made his face twist up like he ain’t even like the question. “Nah. Why would he?”
I shrugged. It was clear then that Jey hadn’t told them. I didn’t know exactly how I felt about that, so I just sighed and propped my head up on my arm, looking at Solo openly. After a second, he looked back at me.
I wasn’t ashamed of dancing. Not really. But something about him seeing me in there felt strange.
“How long you been here?” I asked.
He looked away, but I caught the smirk he tried to hide. Then he cleared his throat. “Long enough to know you know what you doing.”
My mouth fell open.
Had he really seen that much?
I covered my face with my hands because suddenly I felt hot all over, shy in a way I really ain’t like feeling. Then I heard him laugh. Not a little chuckle either. He was really laughing.
So, I reached over and swatted at him. “That shit ain’t funny.”
But once I said it, I realized how silly it was to even be mad. The city wasn’t as big as it felt when I was younger. People were bound to find out sooner or later, especially if Sugah had plans on making me one of the main attractions.
Solo’s voice softened after that. “Look, your secret safe with me. You ain’t gotta worry.”
I looked him over then.
Solo was grown now. He was only a few years older than me and my friends, but sitting there looking at him, I could see his brothers in him and still know he was different. He had always been the quiet one. But since being back, I was learning there was more to him than just being Jey and Jimmy’s little brother.
I held my pinky out toward him. “Promise?”
He looked down at it, then back at me, and smiled. He had a pretty smile. It made me smile too.
He hooked his pinky with mine.
“On Prada.”
After me and Solo made that promise, we ain’t really say much else to each other. I mostly talked to Malik instead. But when I tried to stand up again, my balance still wasn’t right, and Solo’s hands came to my waist like they belonged there.
“Just making sure you good,” he said.
I looked away instead of at him, not trying to make this moment anything other than what it was. I mumbled a thanks, then stepped away from the bar and headed back to the locker room.
By the time I got back there, the room was starting to empty out since it was close to closing. Girls were changing, packing up, counting money, getting ready to go. I changed clothes too, sliding into a mini dress and some sandals. I had just pulled my hoodie on when Mocha pinched my side.
“Did he give you some money?” she asked, smiling.
I gave her a look as I tugged my hoodie down. “Who?”
“Solo, girl. I saw you at the bar with him. Y’know his pockets deep.”
That’s when it clicked. Solo was Mocha’s trick. Something about that made me feel a way for a second, but I pushed it down quickly. It wasn’t my business.
“Un uh, girl. That’s all you. I know him from back in the day though. Nothing more.”
That was the easiest way to put it. It was a little more complicated than that, but there wasn’t any reason to get into all that with her.
Mocha bounced on her heels. “Girl, you so real for that because these other heifa’s would’ve tried to pull him up from under me. I knew that’s why I liked you.”
I laughed because she wasn’t lying. I had seen girls fall out over that very reason a time too many. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to worry about that with me. Solo was off limits for a few reasons.
We hugged, and I finished getting my things together. I tipped out, said my goodbyes, and headed toward the exit. Gee was there like always, making sure me and the other girls got out to our cars safely. He leaned in low and told me somebody looked like they were waiting on me, then asked if I needed him to walk me over to my car. I already had a feeling I knew who it was, so I told him it wasn’t necessary.
And I was right. Solo was lingering by his car which wasn’t parked far from mine. When he saw me coming, he pushed off of it and started walking over. I took my time putting my duffle in my car, giving him enough time to reach me before I turned around.
“Yes?” I asked.
He rubbed his hands together and looked around before answering. “I think you need some food on ya stomach before you drive home. Don’t you?”
I gave him a look. Was he asking me out for food? Like a date?
I had every intention of stopping somewhere to eat, but I hadn’t planned on having company.
“I mean you ain’t gotta accept,” he added. “I just wanna make sure you good.”
He sounded sincere. And again, it was just food with somebody I knew.
“Okay. Waffle House sound good to you?”
He nodded, and the two of us left Sugah’s in our own cars. Waffle House was about three miles down the highway. I was still intoxicated, so I drove slower than usual, and Solo stayed right behind me, keeping the same speed the whole way. I didn’t let that go unnoticed.
We parked right next to each other. The Waffle House was mostly empty, just one waitress moving between the few people in there. We got seated quickly at one of them booths that looked clean but still felt sticky.
I ordered the All-Star Special, and Solo got steak and eggs. When the food came, we ate mostly in silence. It wasn’t awkward, just what it was.
His phone rang. He ignored it. Then it rang again.
“It might be important,” I said with a little smirk.
Solo chuckled. “I don’t think nothing more important than this.”
That sat with me a second longer than it should have. He finally put the phone on silent when it kept going off, and after that the conversation picked up when he asked how long I had been dancing, which led into him asking about school.
“College was cool for what it was. I had one goal, which was to pass so I could graduate. And I did despite everything.”
My voice cracked a little at the end, and I hated that it did. Still, it was true. Graduating without getting caught up the way I’d seen so many other girls do was something I was grateful for.
“Shit, I’m proud of you,” Solo said. “You got goals outside of the fast life when many don’t. I respect it.”
That made me smile. More than that, it made me feel good, and after the kind of day I had just had, I needed that. My mind flicked to Taya for a second, but I shook it off. I just hoped she could find something to feel good about soon.
“So, this why you ain’t answering the damn phone? What kind of shit you on, uce?”
Jey’s voice cut through that quiet restaurant so loud it made me flinch. I hadn’t even noticed him come in. When I looked up, his face was tight with anger. Tama stood beside him with one eyebrow raised, and behind Tama was Tonga looking curious like he was trying to piece together what he had just walked into.
Solo glanced at Jey for a second before looking back at me.
“You good?”
I ain’t even know what to do. Four sets of eyes were on me now, and Jey’s felt like they were burning a hole in the side of my face.
“I-I’m good. Yeah, I’m straight.”
Jey pushed his way into the booth on my side, basically shoving me over till I was pinned against the wall. Just like that, I was stuck, and that alone had me irritated. Then his cologne hit me. He always smelled good. Too bad his attitude never matched.
“You gon’ answer me or not, uce?” Jey snapped, staring straight at Solo. “How the fuck this shit happen?”
Solo stayed cool, calm, and collected. He even rolled his eyes. Jey’s intimidation wasn’t doing nothing to him, and that only made Jey madder. When Jey slammed his hand down on the table, I jumped and looked at him like he had lost his mind.
“Aye, y’all gotta take that shit outside before we have to call the laws,” the cook yelled from the grill.
Jey sucked his teeth, then turned to me.
“Bring yo’ ass, girl.”
That’s when I looked at him crazy for real. Who did he think he was?
I shoved him. “Stop talking to me like I’m your fucking kid.”
Everything shifted after that. Solo stood up quick. Tama raised his arm to hold him back like he knew what was about to come next. Jey got up too, standing face to face with his little brother, and Tonga put his arm out in front of Jey.
It was a standoff built off male ego, and I wanted no parts of it. I took the chance to grab my purse and scoot out the booth, but as I tried to leave, Jey grabbed my hoodie and pulled me back.
“Don’t go too far!”
I yanked away from him and headed straight for the register. The few people in the restaurant were watching now, waiting to see what would happen. I pulled money out to pay for the food, but Solo was right there beside me.
“Don’t worry about it. I got it,” he said, sliding a hundred toward the woman at the register.
I mumbled a thank you and turned to walk out. I couldn’t even make it to my car good enough before Jey was right there in my face again.
“First Damian, now my brother. You like pissing me off, little girl.”
Jey really knew how to get under my skin. That little girl comment did it. I started to swing on him, but Solo beat me to it.
He punched Jey, and Jey stumbled back looking shocked. After that, it all went left. Tama and Tonga tried to get between them, but it was too late. Nothing was stopping them from putting hands on each other at that point. Punches flew, and before I knew it, the two of them were fighting like strangers instead of brothers.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
Tama and Tonga were struggling to contain them, so I jumped in too, grabbing at Solo, trying to get him to at least let Jey’s shirt go.
“Solo, stop! It’s not worth it!” I screamed.
I don’t know if it was what I said or how I said it, but he hesitated. Then he shoved Jey away from him and stood up, fixing his clothes. A bruise was already coming up under Solo’s eye. Jey’s nose and lip were bleeding. Jey was still cussing Solo out, but Tama had him then.
“I’ma see you, uce. This shit ain’t over,” Jey threatened.
I ignored him and bent down to pick up Solo’s things that had fallen out of his pockets, his phone and his keys. Solo couldn’t even thank me because Jey was already shouting again.
“And I’m definitely gon’ see yo’ little ass. Just wait on it.”
Jey and I locked eyes. I just looked at him for a second, then turned away. He was always hot and cold, always too much, and I had grown to hate that about him. Yeah, we’d probably see each other again. But as far as I was concerned, Jey was dead to me.
AN: It's been a minute but I'm here. I showed up at strange time but I won't let that stop me. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. And I appreciate your support ❤︎
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 7: Open Wounds
05/30/2002
My days and nights started blurring together after Saturday night. One day slid into the next without much difference between them. I found myself drinking more and sleeping less, letting the club swallow up most of my time.
Something about that encounter with Jey had knocked something loose inside me. I wouldn’t call it spiraling because I refused to label it that, but I couldn’t deny the way everything shifted. Sugah’s became the easiest place to hide.
Between the glitter, the music, and the attention, it was easy to pretend nothing had gotten under my skin.
It wasn’t until the Thursday before my scheduled moving day that the haze finally started to lift. I laid there for a few minutes after waking up, staring at the ceiling while the quiet of the room settled around me. That night would be my last shift before I took time off to settle into my new apartment.
The thought alone forced me back into reality. I couldn’t keep drifting the way I had been.
I rolled out of bed just around ten and stretched, my body protesting the movement. Night after night in the club was never good on the body. My hips ached, my calves tight, and my shoulders felt like they had been carrying something heavy for days.
But it was the only way I knew how to cope. Staying distracted enough that my thoughts couldn’t drift to things I didn’t want them to.
But the agenda for the day was simple, I needed furniture. I had put it off long enough.
After a hot shower, I sat down on the edge of my bed with my diary in my hands. It had been neglected since I came back home. The cover felt unfamiliar in a way that made me pause for a second before opening it.
I flipped to a blank page and stared at it quietly, gathering my thoughts before finally putting pen to paper.
I been spending more time at the club ‘cause it’s the only way to distract myself from the situation. Finding peace amongst the glitter, alcohol, and surface level adoration because in all honesty that’s patching up the wounds that refuse to heal.
I’m questioning why I’m still stuck on him after all this time. Why one touch from him has me reconsidering? That man tried to break me. He wanted me to be someone I’m not. I won’t hold my tongue. I won’t agree blindly. I ain’t standing in the shadows when I know I’m worthy of being front and center.
I refuse to give up my freedom. So, I gotta figure this shit out, gotta get my mind right. I deserve the very best even when my heart longs for things I’ve outgrown.
I sat there for a moment after writing, reading over my own words like they belonged to somebody else. The truth of it sat heavy in my chest.
Eventually, I closed the diary and packed it away with the rest of my things. My room was already filled with boxes stacked along the walls, everything ready to be loaded into the U-Haul that would take me to my new place.
I was in the middle of packing up another pile of clothes when my phone rang.
Damian.
He had called a few times over the past couple days, but I hadn’t answered. I’d been too deep in running away from my own problems to talk to anybody who might ask real questions.
Still, this time I answered.
“Hi.”
He greeted me warmly, and I could hear the smile in his voice immediately. Damian didn’t ask where I’d been or why I hadn’t answered his calls. He didn’t push. That was one thing about him, he never came at me like he was owed an explanation.
“When can I see you, mami? It’s been a while.”
I paused for a second, thinking about it. The idea of seeing him didn’t feel heavy the way everything else had been feeling lately. A small smile tugged at my lips before I even realized it.
“I’m about to go to the furniture store to look for stuff for my apartment,” I told him. “You wanna come along?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah. I know a place actually,” he said quickly. “They got good furniture and I know the owner. I can get you a good price.”
That made me smile a little more. I liked to spend money that much was true, but I liked saving it just as much.
We agreed to meet at a store downtown called Krazy Bob’s.
After we hung up, I got dressed, pulling on a Tommy Hilfiger tank dress and my white Keds. Nothing fancy, but it still looked put together. I grabbed my purse and headed out; the drive downtown came without the usual stop and go traffic.
Krazy Bob’s sat tucked between a row of storefronts along a busy one-way street. Parking was across the street in a garage, so I pulled in there and made my way down to the sidewalk. I scanned the area for Damian but didn’t see him anywhere. I’d probably beat him there.
So, I stepped inside the store to look around while I waited.
Krazy Bob’s was an experience all by itself. Furniture filled nearly every inch of the place. Sofas stacked beside recliners, dining tables lined up in rows, big screen TVs mounted along the walls. Even washers and dryers sat toward the back. Everything one could need to furnish a house was crammed into every nook and cranny.
I wandered slowly through the aisles, touching fabrics, sitting briefly on a couch, opening a cabinet door here and there.
I was in the middle of examining a sectional when arms suddenly wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a warm chest. I didn’t jump this time. I actually leaned into him. His scent hit me before anything else.
Damian pressed a kiss against the side of my head, holding me there a moment longer than usual.
“Te extraño, nena,” he whispered.
I smiled softly and turned around to face him.
The first thing I noticed was the bruise under his eye. It had already started fading, the color shifting into that yellow-purple stage of healing. My hand moved before I could stop it, my thumb brushing lightly against the edge of it.
“What happened?”
The question slipped out before I decided if I really wanted to know the answer.
“It’s nothing, bonita,” he said gently. “I’m fine.”
I held his gaze for a second longer, knowing there was more behind it. There was always more behind things like that. But I let it go. Damian seemed grateful for that because he quickly asked if I’d seen anything I liked yet.
And I had.
I pointed out a sofa set first, then a bedroom set not too far from it. There was also a dining room set I’d noticed earlier that would look perfect in my new place. Damian nodded along as I showed him, listening while I explained why I liked each one.
That’s when the owner walked over. He introduced himself as Bob.
He was an older white man with gold teeth, which tickled me more than it probably should have. Damian greeted him like they’d known each other for years, the two of them slipping into easy conversation while I wandered toward the appliances like the washer and dryer combo that seemed to be on sale.
My eyes drifted toward a big screen TV mounted nearby, then to a stereo system sitting beneath it. I started crunching numbers in my head automatically, calculating how much everything would come out to if I bought it all at once.
Inside my purse, I had stacks of bills ready to spend. At that point, I just needed to see if Bob was about to give me the kind of deal Damian promised. Damian came back to my side a few minutes later, slipping through the maze of couches and dining tables like he belonged there.
The store buzzed with quiet activity around us; salesmen talking to couples, somebody testing a recliner that squeaked every time it leaned back, the faint hum of televisions mounted high along the wall.
“B said he can give you a good deal since you with me,” Damian said, leaning slightly closer so his voice didn’t get swallowed by the noise.
I liked the sound of that. My eyes drifted back over the pieces I’d already picked out. The gray sectional that looked soft enough to sink into after long nights at the club. The bedroom set that had the dark wood frame that made it look like it belonged in a hotel. The dining table big enough that if I ever had people over, nobody would be squeezed together.
“I want all of it,” I said finally, nodding toward the pieces one by one. “The sofa set, the bedroom set, and the dining table set. Plus, that tv along with the washer and dryer as well. Oh, those two rugs over there to.”
Damian followed my finger as I pointed things out, nodding like he was committing it all to memory.
“Aight,” he said. “Let me go grab B.”
I watched him disappear again down the aisle toward the front counter while I wandered back toward the appliances again. Rows of washers and dryers sat side by side like soldiers lined up for inspection, their white metal bodies gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
I ran my fingers across the lid of one of them, imagining what my new place would look like once everything was in it. The thought made something warm settle in my chest.
Behind me I heard footsteps approach.
I turned, expecting Damian.
Instead, Bob himself stood there, smiling wide enough that the row of gold teeth in his mouth flashed under the lights. It caught me off guard so much I almost laughed.
He stuck his hand out toward me.
“So, when you want everything delivered?” he asked cheerfully. “And where we taking it?”
I blinked at him.
For a moment my brain didn’t catch up to what he was saying. I’d expected him to start throwing numbers at me. Maybe slide some paperwork towards me or scribble something down on a piece of paper.
“Uh…” I started.
That’s when Damian slid up beside him, that quiet grin already sitting on his face like he’d been waiting for me to figure it out.
And just like that, it clicked.
“Damian, you didn’t!” I said, turning toward him once Bob stepped out of earshot. “I could have paid for my stuff.”
He looked completely unbothered by my protest. If anything, his smile deepened as he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
“Consider this a housewarming gift,” he said.
I studied him carefully.
For the past three years I’d taken care of myself. Paid my own way. Handled my own problems. I hadn’t depended on nobody especially not a man to take care of anything for me. Standing there while someone casually bought thousands of dollars’ worth of furniture for me felt unfamiliar.
My silence must’ve said more than I realized because Damian lifted both hands and pressed his thumbs lightly against my forehead, rubbing the space between my creased brows like he was smoothing out the thoughts he could see forming there.
“Stop thinking so hard, mami,” he murmured. “Allow me to do this.”
His voice softened slightly.
“I owe you.”
That word hung in the air.
I looked up at him more closely now. “What you mean you owe me?”
Damian let out a slow breath and shook his head, his eyes drifting away for a moment before coming back to mine.
“I didn’t try hard enough to stop that party from happening,” he said quietly. “I should’ve done more to protect you. We failed. I failed. And because of that I lost you for three years.”
His words hit somewhere deep in my chest.
Before I could even think about what I was doing, my hand reached up and pulled his face toward mine. My lips met his in a soft kiss, quick but full of something I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge before. For a second he stayed completely still, like he needed a moment to process it.
My eyes opened before his did.
When his lashes finally lifted, the smile that spread across his face was slow and warm.
“Still as sweet as I remember,” he said with a quiet laugh.
I couldn’t help laughing with him. A line had been crossed between us. I knew it. But strangely enough, I didn’t feel guilty about it.
After that everything with Krazy Bob moved smoothly. Damian and I walked back over to him and went through the details like any other customers. I signed the paperwork and gave Bob my new address, watching him scribble everything down on a yellow delivery form.
“Most of your furniture we can bring Saturday,” Bob said. “Dining set and rugs might take a few extra days.”
“That’s fine,” I replied.
Honestly, as long as I had a couch and a bed, I’d be perfectly happy.
Damian walked me out to the parking garage when we finished. The sound of cars echoed through the concrete structure, the air cooler than it had been outside. We stopped beside my car and leaned against it, neither of us rushing to leave just yet.
“Can I help you move in?” he asked.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him. “You really want to help? Reggie, Michael, and probably Reggie’s brother Mark gon' be around helping me with everything.”
“That’s fine,” Damian said. “Extra hands never hurt nobody.”
I thought about it for a moment.
Damian was still a Prada Boi. I hadn’t really inquired about how my family felt about any of the others outside of Jey. Michael was the only one who made his opinion of them known.
I could already imagine the looks if he showed up to help move my things.
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said finally. “But if I need you, I’ll call you.”
Damian nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips like he already knew how that would turn out.
We stood there a second longer before he pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped around me warm and steady, and he pressed a soft kiss against my forehead before letting go. I’d come to enjoy those.
“Remember to call me if you need me, bonita,” he said as he walked toward his car.
“I will,” I shouted back.
Once I slid into my own car, I sat there for a moment and let out a breath before doing a little shimmy in my seat. Everything finally felt like it was lining up the way it was supposed to. My apartment was coming together. The furniture was handled.
And for that, I was grateful.
05/31/2002
By the time the sun started dropping lower in the sky, everything I planned to take with me was finally packed. Boxes sat taped shut all around my room, stacked against the walls and tucked into corners like little towers waiting to be moved.
I stretched out across the bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling while the quiet settled around me. My muscles ached in that dull way that only came after a long day of moving around too much.
Between packing all morning, dancing the night before, and running to different stores to make sure I had the essentials, my body was reminding me I wasn’t built to run nonstop.
I yawned wide and rubbed my eyes before rolling onto my side. For a second I considered closing them and taking a quick nap. That idea died the moment my stomach growled loud enough to echo in the empty room.
Immediately my mind went to those good ole burgers from the corner store. From the thick greasy patties, shredded lettuce spilling out the sides, and fries cooked in straight lard that soaked through the bottom of the paper bag before you even made it home.
I hadn’t had one in a minute and my stomach growling again settled it.
I pushed myself up and shuffled down the hallway, peeking my head into Michael’s room. The TV casted a bluish glow across the walls while he leaned back in his chair scrolling through channels. I paused a second, surprised he was actually home instead of somewhere outside doing whatever it was he did most nights.
“You wanna ride to the store for a burger basket?” I asked.
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Hell yeah.”
Before I could say anything else he sat up straighter and started rattling off his order like he’d been rehearsing it.
“I’ma need a double cheeseburger deluxe, large fry with extra seasonings, and a large Kool-Aid with light ice, bro.”
I sucked my teeth instantly.
“You got deluxe basket money?” I asked as we headed out the front door.
Michael climbed into the passenger seat like the question didn’t even apply to him.
“This not about me,” he said. “This about you. You invited me so you paying, girl.”
That kicked off an argument that lasted the entire ride to the store. Back and forth the whole way there, me telling him he needed to start spending that money I knew he had and him insisting it was my responsibility to pay since I invited him.
By the time we pulled into the small lot beside the corner store, I already knew how things were going to end.
Fifteen minutes later I walked back out carrying two greasy paper bags and two drinks.
Michael looked at me with a smug little grin.
“Exactly,” he said.
We didn’t bother going back home. Instead, we sat right there outside the store on one of the concrete barricades that separated the lot from the street.
The asphalt still held heat from the afternoon sun and the smell of grease drifted through the air every time someone opened the store door. A couple older men stood nearby talking loud over a game of dominoes while cars rolled slowly down the block.
For a while we just ate. No talking, just the sound of wrappers crinkling and the occasional comment when someone we knew walked past.
I wiped my hands with a napkin and glanced over at Michael while he demolished the last of his fries.
“You remember Damian, right?” I asked.
He nodded without looking up, still chewing. That was all the opening I needed to see something.
“How you feel about him?”
Michael swallowed his food and reached for his drink, taking a long pull before answering.
“He aight,” he said finally. “Solid dude despite how he get down.”
He wiped his fingers on a napkin and leaned back slightly.
“He came around after you left to check on us. Made sure we was good. Not too many people move like that these days.”
My mouth fell open before I could stop it.
Nobody had told me that. Our granny had mentioned Jey coming around once or twice after I left. But she told me he stopped once he realized nobody was going to tell him where I was or if I was coming back.
“Word?” I said, leaning forward. “I ain’t know that. How did Ma and Reggie feel about that?”
Michael shrugged.
“At first Ma wasn’t really feeling none of they asses,” he said. “Even though most of them showed up to see you at the hospital at least once before you came to.”
He took another sip of his drink.
“But Damian stayed consistent long after you were gone. Eventually Ma and him came to some sort of understanding. I feel like she could tell he was sincere, so I don’t think she got no problem with him.”
He looked over at me now.
“Damian always been like that though. That’s just him. But don’t get it twisted that don’t mean he ain’t just as bad as the rest of them niggas if not worse. Street angel who can turn into a demon real quick.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Why you asking though?”
I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“He said he wanted to help y’all move my stuff tomorrow,” I said. “I ain’t know how y’all felt about him so I wanted to check before I gave him an answer.”
Michael looked me up and down slowly before a smirk crept across his face.
“Man, I knew yo’ ass was cheating on Jey with his big ass back then.”
My hand flew straight to my chest.
“Boy!” I snapped. “Wasn’t nobody cheating. He was my friend before I even knew that dude. Don’t play with my name like that.”
Michael laughed.
“Whatever you say,” he said. “But if I’m being honest… you probably should’ve chosen him.”
My eyes widened slightly. That was the second time someone had said that to me. First Kiyah. Now Michael. The thought stuck in my head well after we got back home and slid into the bed.
06/01/2002
Saturday morning arrived loud and bright like it was owed some money. Sunlight beamed through my window way earlier than I wanted it to, and I tried pulling the covers over my head before the door suddenly swung open.
“Girl, get yo’ ass up!” Michael shouted. “This shit not gon’ move itself.”
I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath while dragging myself out of bed. It was only nine in the morning, but the heat had already settled into the house. By the time I finished getting dressed, Reggie was pulling up outside with the U-Haul.
And just like that, the work started.
Box by box my room emptied while the truck filled. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck while we carried things in and out of the house. I was ready to call it quits halfway through, but there was too much left to do.
Eventually I pulled my phone out and called Damian.
When he showed up, my mama greeted him like he was just another set of hands there to help. Reggie and Mark nodded at him while Michael dapped him up like they’d already expected him to come through.
I stood there watching it for a second, a little surprised by how normal it all looked. Yeah, he was a Prada Boi. But in that moment he was just Damian who was grabbing boxes, lifting furniture, moving through the house like everyone else.
He kept his distance from me while we worked, though I caught his eyes following me a few times.
Before long the truck was packed. My car was filled. Reggie’s truck had boxes stacked in the back and Damian’s truck had a few too. Turns out I had more stuff than I thought.
We all drove over to the complex where I’d be living next. My new place was a two-story duplex, which meant some boxes had to go upstairs and others downstairs. I stopped by the rent office to grab my key before unlocking the front door so everyone could start bringing things in.
The unloading moved faster than the loading. Everyone grabbed something every trip, moving through the doorway in a steady rhythm. By the time we were almost finished, the furniture truck pulled up outside.
The rest of the afternoon turned into a blur of boxes sliding across floors, furniture being carried through doorways, and people coming in and out of the house.
By three o’clock everything was finally done. The couch sat in the living room along with the tv, the bed sat in the bedroom awaiting sheets, and the washer and dryer sat in the laundry room.
I dropped onto the couch with a bottle of water in my hand, my entire body heavy with exhaustion. But my heart felt full. For the first time in a long time, I had something that belonged to me and only me.
By the time the last box was carried inside and the furniture people finished setting everything up, the house finally went quiet. Reggie, my mama, Michael, and Mark had taken off not too long after everything was in place, leaving the duplex wrapped in that tired silence that comes after a long day of moving.
The evening light stretched through the windows, painting the living room in warm gold. For the first time all day, I could actually hear myself think.
Damian lingered.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, one elbow resting on the surface while he slowly sipped from a bottle of water. The house still smelled like fresh furniture and cardboard, mixed with the faint scent of sweat from everybody carrying boxes all afternoon. I walked into the kitchen and slid up to the opposite side of the counter, resting my hands against the cool surface.
“Thank you again,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
Damian looked up at me and smiled before nodding his head slightly.
“Thank you for letting me help,” he replied. “This meant a lot to me, mami.”
Something about the sincerity in his voice made me bite down lightly on my lip. A rush of emotion hit me before I could brace for it.
Damian was… something. Something steady. Something genuine. And it was becoming more obvious to me with every moment we spent together that I wanted to see where this thing between us could go.
Before I could say anything else, his phone rang.
The sound cut sharply through the quiet house. Damian pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen. A small sigh escaped him before he answered.
“Uce, where the fuck you been?” the voice barked through the phone loud enough for me to hear every word. “You ain’t been answering yo’ phone. What you on, uce?”
My stomach twisted immediately.
Damian didn’t have the phone on speaker, but Jey’s voice carried through it like he was standing in the room. I watched Damian’s demeanor change almost instantly. The relaxed look he’d had a moment earlier disappeared. His jaw tightened slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I had shit to do,” he said calmly.
He didn’t explain anything else. Just stood there leaning against the counter while Jey kept talking on the other end. Every now and then his eyes flicked toward me, like he knew I could hear the conversation whether I wanted to or not. It didn’t last long though. Whatever Jey needed clearly wasn’t something Damian could ignore.
When he hung up, he looked back at me.
“I gotta go, princesa.”
I gave him a small smile, even though something in my chest tightened. The streets always came first. That was the reality of men like him. I would come second until he was out, and getting out usually only happened one way.
When he pulled me into a hug, I wrapped my arms around him tighter than I meant to. Reality settled over me in that moment. His chest was warm against mine and neither one of us moved right away. The hug lasted longer than usual, but in that moment it felt necessary.
“Be safe, Damian,” I told him quietly.
He kissed my temple before pulling away. After one last look at me, he slipped out the front door. I stood there for a moment after he left, my mind crowded with thoughts that all seemed to show up at once.
Eventually I shook it off and got the bed ready. Clean sheets stretched across the mattress along with the matching pillowcases and comforter. After a hot shower, I slid into the bed and sleep grabbed hold of me almost immediately.
The sound of my phone ringing dragged me out of that sleep.
I answered it with a groggy voice. “Hello?”
“I know you not sleep, heifa. It’s only seven!” Kiyah snapped.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and squinted at it before bringing it back. “Kiyah, I’m tired. We been moving stuff all day. I need rest.”
“I’m sure you is,” she replied quickly, “but get up. We going out tonight. Meet us at Southern.”
I stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t going anywhere but back to sleep.
“Kiyah, I ain’t coming nowhere. Did you not hear me? I’m tired, girl.”
She sighed loudly before jumping straight into peer pressure. She reminded me I’d been gone for three years and that we had a lot of catching up to do.
According to her logic, I owed them a night out so we could make up for lost time. The argument was annoyingly convincing, and before I realized it, I was crawling out of bed.
I pulled on a pair of low-rise denim shorts and a red shirt, sliding my red Converse onto my feet. My hair got curled and pinned into a messy updo before I finished the look with my gold jewelry and a layer of glitter-scented lotion.
Southern Skates was only about fifteen minutes from my new place. When I pulled into the parking lot, it was already packed. Saturdays were adults-only after nine, and clearly everybody in the city had the same idea.
Inside the rink the energy was alive. Strobe lights flashed across the floor while people crowded the skate line and the food court. The DJ was spinning the newest R&B and hip-hop records, and I had to admit it felt good being somewhere that wasn’t the club.
The energy felt lighter.
I bobbed my head to the beat while standing in line for skates. Once I got them, I moved deeper into the building looking for my girls. I spotted them sitting around a table laughing about something and made my way over.
“Hey y’all.”
They jumped up immediately, pulling me into hugs. Nataya looked happier than the last time I saw her, and I noticed the bracelet Jimmy gave her was still missing.
Natasha proudly showed off a new tattoo, a rose blooming along the inside of her wrist, while Kiyah was showing more skin than usual, which told me something was going on with Jacob.
We talked and caught up until the building cleared out and it was adults only. Nataya and I laced up our skates first. After tossing our things into lockers, the four of us rolled out onto the floor.
The DJ blended one record into another, and when “Gimme the Light” by Sean Paul dropped the lights pulsed harder and so did my hips. Singles and couples glided across the rink, everybody moving to the rhythm.
After the fifth song I needed a break. I skated back toward our table and leaned against it, my arms resting across the surface while I caught my breath.
“Girl, there his fine ass go,” a woman’s voice said from the table behind me. “I want him so bad. I just know that bitch he with can’t put it down like me.”
I glanced slightly in their direction, amused. Whoever they were talking about had them worked up. I wasn’t curious enough to turn around though.
Then one of them called out.
“Hey, Jey!”
My head almost snapped clean off my shoulders.
There he was. Standing in front of them in a black and red Miami Heat jersey and denim jeans, his tattooed arms on full display and those gold grills flashing when he smiled.
I turned right back around, trying to blend into the scenery.
But even with the music blasting through the speakers, I could still hear everything they were saying.
“So, when you throwing another party?” one of the women asked. “We tryna slide through.”
Jey chuckled. “Gimmie ya number and I’ll hit you up when I do.”
My eyes narrowed while I stared straight ahead. What was he on? It shouldn’t have mattered. But in that moment it did.
More voices joined the conversation; ones I recognized immediately. Tama. Tonga. The three of them stood there talking with the women practically melting over them. I rolled my eyes and stayed facing forward, waiting for them to move so I could quietly skate off.
But the conversation kept going.
“What the hell y’all doing here?”
Kiyah’s voice cut straight through the music, and I silently cussed under my breath. From where I was sitting only the back of my head was visible, and up until that moment it didn’t seem like they realized it was me.
But now that Kiyah had rolled up, that little bit of anonymity was about to disappear. I slid my hands along the edge of the table and started to stand, planning to skate off toward the bathroom before things got messy.
“Girl, mind yo’ damn business. We can go wherever,” Jey replied.
I was already halfway up when Kiyah made it worse.
“Nah,” she snapped. “I think you stalking Nye and that shit ain’t cool.”
Every pair of eyes swung toward me at once including the two women who had been flirting with them earlier. My stomach dropped straight through the floor. For a second I just stood there like somebody had pressed pause on the room, unsure what to do with all that attention suddenly on me.
Finally, I lifted my hand and waved it.
“Aye, this ain’t got nothing to do with me,” I said quickly. “Leave me outta this.”
Before anybody could say anything else I pushed off and skated toward the food court. The smell of greasy pizza and fountain drinks filled the air while people crowded around the counter.
I ordered a drink and two slices of pizza, figuring food might distract me from the tight knot twisting in my stomach. Nataya rolled up a minute later and slid into the booth across from me, giving me that soft sympathetic look that immediately annoyed me.
“I’m fine, Taya,” I told her.
She nodded slowly. When the pizza came, I passed one slice across the table and took the other for myself. Not long after that Kiyah and Natasha joined us, both of them still heated about the situation.
“I really think he stalking you ‘cause what the fuck is going on here,” Kiyah muttered as she dropped into the booth. “I planned a cute night out and here they asses come. We can’t have nothing without them niggas butting in.”
Natasha leaned forward immediately. “I don’t even think he came for Nye. That fool came here to find a easy hoe to cheat with along with them other two.”
That made me glance up from my plate. Jey, a cheater? I couldn’t picture it. For everything he was, that had never crossed my mind.
“I knew his ass was cheating,” Natasha continued like she was for sure now. “Most of them do. Especially Tama and Talla. Why you think they here instead of doing something useful?”
Taya shot her twin a look. “You really think that, Tasha? Jey don’t give cheater to me.”
Kiyah scoffed. “Taya, get serious. Them niggas be cheating. Not mines though ‘cause he know I’ll beat his ass.”
That broke the tension enough for all of us to laugh, and the conversation drifted away from Jey into gossip about people we knew around us. Still, something felt off. It was that uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
When we got back on the rink to skate, it didn’t take long to realize why. Jey stood leaning against the banister that overlooked the floor, arms resting along the rail. He hadn’t even bothered putting skates on.
People circled the rink while the lights flashed and the DJ kept the music rolling, but his eyes stayed on me. Tama and Tonga were busy entertaining the women hanging around them, laughing and flirting, but Jey wasn’t paying them any attention.
He was watching me.
Not casually either. It was like he was studying me.
The longer I skated, the heavier that gaze felt. Eventually it started crawling under my skin, stirring up that same restless pull in my chest I’d been trying to ignore all week. By the time the next song ended, I was over it.
I rolled off the rink and headed toward the lockers. It was time to go.
I sat down at the metal bench and started unlacing my skates. The laces were halfway undone when someone dropped into the seat across from me.
“You ready to talk now?”
I didn’t bother looking up.
“We ain’t got nothing to talk about,” I muttered while pulling the lace loose and sliding my foot free.
“We do,” Jey said evenly. “And we gon’ have this conversation whether you want to or not, Nyeya.”
That irritation flared up instantly. He had always been like that deciding what was going to happen whether anyone agreed with him or not.
Damian never did that.
I finally looked up at him.
“That’s your problem,” I said as I stood and slipped my Converse back on. “You think you run everything and everybody. But you don’t. Especially not me.”
Jey frowned, and I smirked a little because I knew he hated that feeling; the one that told him he wasn’t in control anymore. Experiencing it reminded me exactly why I had walked away in the first place.
He was still the same man which meant I had made the right decision in moving on.
I grabbed my purse and walked away without saying another word. I’d apologize to the girls later for leaving without saying anything again. Right now, I just needed to get out of there. I turned my skates in and headed toward the exit without looking back.
I should have.
Jey was already outside waiting.
I sucked my teeth and walked straight past him toward my car. He didn’t stop me right away, just followed behind like we had arrived together. I had just reached for my door handle when his hand caught my elbow and pulled me back.
“You owe me an explanation for leaving,” he said.
A bitter laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. “I owe you? See that’s always been your problem. You think somebody owe you something. I owe you nothing, Jey. Nothing.”
My voice cracked slightly, and I hated that he heard it.
He stepped closer. “Baby, please—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “Don’t!”
The tears came whether I wanted them to or not. “I’m nothing to you,” I said. “Like you nothing to me.”
My guard slipped just long enough for him to pull me into his arms. His embrace wrapped around me tightly, like he needed it more than I did.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered into my hair. “We can fix this shit. You just gotta talk to me.”
My knees weakened for a moment. His hold was unraveling years of tangled feelings all at once. But the truth sat right there waiting. He always did this. Always knew exactly how to pull me in just enough to tie me up again.
I pushed away from him, my face wet with tears.
“Go home to Tutor, Jey,” I said quietly. “She is everything I am not and everything I refuse to be.”
He looked at me for a long moment before answering.
“She ain’t you. Going home hard ‘cause I ain’t coming home to you.”
My breath caught in my chest. Every word he said sounded exactly like the things I used to wish he’d say.
But I knew better now.
So, I didn’t answer. I just got into my car and started the engine. Jey didn’t try to stop me this time. He stepped back and watched while I pulled out of the lot.
As I drove away, my chest ached with a truth I hated admitting. He was still the one person who could hurt me the deepest.
And somehow… still the one who knew exactly how to ease that pain too.
Damian is working hard to be Mr. Right. You think he got a true chance after everything so far?
Jey taking numbers at the skating rink. You think he cheating on Tutor 'cause she not Nyeya?
And that ending. Jey seems to be trying even if it comes off rough and aggressive at times. Would you fold? Should Nye fold this soon?
Edwin Grande had always thought of airports as places where lives quietly intersected—where people arrived with hopes, left with regrets, or stood in between, waiting for something that felt just out of reach. On a humid spring morning, he sat in a narrow seat on a plane bound for Atlanta, Georgia, staring out the window as clouds stretched endlessly beneath him like an ocean of cotton.
He was flying out to see a girl named Aaliyah.
They’d met online months ago in a music forum, trading playlists, inside jokes, and eventually long late-night calls that drifted from music into dreams, fears, and everything in between. She lived in Atlanta, and he lived hundreds of miles away. At first, it had felt like just another internet connection—fun, fleeting, something that would fade. But it hadn’t. Instead, it had grown into something that tugged at him every time his phone lit up with her name.
When she finally said, “You should come visit. I’ll show you my city,” he booked the flight without giving himself time to overthink it.
Now, as the plane descended, his stomach fluttered with nerves. He wondered what she’d be like in person. Would her laugh sound the same? Would the connection feel real outside of screens and headphones? With his Busy schedule could he keep up?
Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport buzzed with energy—people rushing past, overhead announcements echoing, the faint smell of coffee and jet fuel hanging in the air. Bronco walked through the terminal with a backpack slung over one shoulder, scanning the crowd.
Then he saw her.
Aaliyah stood near the arrivals gate, leaning against a pillar, wearing a loose white hoodie and ripped jeans, her hair pulled back in a curly ponytail. She held a cardboard sign that said “BRONCO NIMA – ATL WELCOME COMMITTEE” with a doodle of a tiny horse wearing sunglasses.
He laughed out loud.
She noticed him and broke into a grin that was somehow brighter than the airport lights. “You’re taller than I imagined,” she said, stepping forward.
“You’re… real,” he replied, feeling stupid immediately.
She laughed, that same laugh he’d heard through his headphones a hundred times. They hugged, and for a moment he felt the awkwardness of strangers, then the comfort of people who already knew each other’s voices by heart.
“Ready to see Atlanta?” she asked.
“Lead the way.”
First they started with breakfast at a small café in Midtown, where sunlight poured through tall windows and indie music played softly in the background. Bronco ordered waffles; Aaliyah got avocado toast and a huge iced coffee.
They sat by the window, watching people walk by.
“So,” she said, smiling over her cup, “does it feel weird being here?”
“Yeah. And not weird. It’s like… I’ve known you for months, but this feels like a whole different level.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Definitely good.”
She relaxed a little at that. They talked about the flight, about his hometown, about music they wanted to make someday. Every few minutes, one of them would catch the other staring and quickly look away, smiling.
After breakfast, they walked through Piedmont Park. The air was warm, and the trees were starting to bloom. People were jogging, walking dogs, playing frisbee. Aaliyah pointed out the skyline and told him stories about growing up in the city—how she used to come here after school, how the park felt like a pause button in the middle of all the noise.
Bronco listened, thinking about how different her world was from his, and how lucky he felt to be standing in it for even a day.
Next, they rented scooters and rode along the Atlanta BeltLine, laughing as they tried not to crash into pedestrians or each other. They stopped at murals, took photos, and argued over who had the better music taste (they both knew Aaliyah secretly did).
At one point, they sat on a bench, sharing earbuds, listening to a song they’d both loved for years.
“This hits different here,” Ed said.
“Everything hits different when you’re actually with someone,” she replied quietly.
He glanced at her, but she was staring at the skyline, pretending not to notice his reaction.
They went and grabbed lunch at a food hall, trying different stalls—fried chicken, Korean BBQ, fresh lemonade. They sat at a long communal table, legs tangled under the bench.
“So what made you come all the way here?” Aaliyah asked.
He hesitated, then decided to be honest. “I wanted to see if what we have online is real. And because… I really like you.”
She didn’t look surprised. She looked thoughtful, then smiled softly. “I really like you too. That’s why I invited you.”
They didn’t define anything beyond that. They didn’t need to. The day was enough.
Aaliyah & Ed spent the afternoon wandering through Little Five Points, browsing vintage stores, record shops, and bookstores. Aaliyah bought him a vinyl record from a band they both loved. He insisted on paying for it, calling it a souvenir from their first day.
Later, they visited the Atlanta Botanical Garden. They walked through the greenhouse, surrounded by towering plants and warm mist. Ed joked that it felt like a movie scene, and Aaliyah said, “Then act like it.”
He took her hand.
She squeezed his fingers, neither of them letting go.
As the sun started to set, they drove up to a small overlook with a view of the city. The skyline glowed orange and pink, cars streaming below like lines of light.
They sat on the hood of her car, sharing a bag of chips and listening to music from her phone speaker.
“I wish today could slow down,” Aaliyah said.
“Or repeat,” he added.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. He felt the weight of it, warm and real, and wondered how something that started as messages on a screen had led to this exact moment.
They ended the night at a small rooftop bar with live music. They didn’t drink much—just soda and mocktails—but they watched the band, swayed to the music, and laughed at inside jokes no one else would understand.
Later, they walked through the city lights, talking about the future. Nothing dramatic—just ideas. Visiting again. Maybe she’d come see his city next. Maybe they’d collaborate on music. Maybe they’d just keep talking and see where it led.
When they reached her apartment, they sat on the steps outside.
“I’m really glad you came,” she said.
“Me too. I was nervous, but this… this was perfect.”
She smiled, then hugged him again, longer this time. “Text me when you get to your hotel, okay?”
“Always.”
Back in his hotel room, Bronco lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day. It hadn’t been a movie ending with dramatic confessions or perfect answers. It had been something better—real, simple, and full of possibility.
He texted Aaliyah: “Today was unforgettable. Thanks for showing me your city.”
She replied almost instantly: “Anytime. Atlanta’s always open for you.”
He smiled, closed his eyes, and felt like, for the first time in a long while, he was exactly where he was supposed to be—even if it was only for a day.
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 6: Stitch Me Up
05|24|2002
After that whole debacle at the club, I pulled back from my friends and zoned in on work. I don’t even think I meant to, but it just happened naturally. One missed call turned into two. Texts were seen but not replied to. It was like I unconsciously stopped putting myself in positions where I had to pretend everything was still normal when it wasn’t.
Sugah’s became my routine. Night after night, I showed up, did my hair and makeup in the mirror like muscle memory, and stepped out under them lights like nothing else existed outside them walls.
The music would hit your chest before it hit your ears, and once I was on stage, it was easy to forget everything else. Easy to let the night carry me wherever it wanted.
The money helped too. It always did.
Counting it at the end of the night gave me something real to focus on. Like the future I had imagined for myself when I no longer had to dance in order to maintain my independence.
I’d spent at least two nights in the VIP rooms with Andrzej. He’d ask for me by name soon as he walked in, like he wasn’t interested in nobody else. He was quiet for the most part. Didn’t ask too many questions. Didn’t try to act familiar like he knew me outside that room.
He’d just sit there, watching me like he had nowhere else to be, like whatever time he spent with me was already blocked out on his schedule just for me. And he always made it worth my time.
I couldn’t say I learned more about him, and I didn’t try to. Men like him didn’t come there to be known. They came there to escape whatever waited on them outside. But I did enjoy him becoming a regular of mine. It gave me something to look forward to.
It was Friday when Kiyah finally convinced me to come to Jacob’s son Maleak’s birthday party. She’d been on me about it for days, telling me I needed to get out of the house, do something other than just working.
I wasn’t feeling it at all, but Kiyah had a way of making things sound simple when they wasn’t.
“Everybody gon’ be on they best behavior, Nye. There won’t be no drama since it’s a kid party. Just stop by for a little bit before you go home to get ready for the club,” she told me.
And that was exactly what I planned on doing. I wasn’t trying to hang around long enough for old feelings to start resurfacing. I was just going to drop off Maleak’s gift, eat some cake, and bounce.
I had just got back home from buying his toy when Michael popped out of his room.
I saw him from the corner of my eye while I was sitting on my bed with the gift bag between my legs, folding the top of the wrapping paper down so it sat right.
I expected him to walk past my door like he usually did. But he stopped. Just stood there in the doorway, peeking in like he was debating if he should say something.
I looked up at him, giving him my full attention.
He didn’t say anything right away. But he cleared his throat first, eyes moving around my room before they finally landed on me.
“I forgot to thank you for them chips you got me last week,” he said.
I nodded, a small smile forming without me meaning for it to. “You ain’t got to thank me.”
He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it clearly was. “You ain’t got to but I was wondering could you take me to the rec center in a little bit.”
“Yeah,” I said without hesitation. “Let me finish wrapping this and I’ll take you.”
He nodded once and walked off, disappearing back into his room like that was all he came for.
When I finished, I grabbed my keys and knocked on his door. He didn’t answer, but a second later, I heard movement on the other side.
By the time he came out, I was already in the car. He stepped onto the porch and slid into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. I backed out slowly, the radio playing low in the background.
Neither one of us said nothing at first. He just looked out the window while houses passed by, and I kept my hands steady on the wheel. I’d been thinking about what to say since he asked me for the ride. It sat in my chest the whole time.
“So, remember what you said to me that night,” I started, glancing at him.
He nodded, still looking ahead.
“You were right. My friends are still heavily involved in that life even if I didn’t or refused to see it at first. I love my friends, but I do realize I have to pull back on being around them like that in order to make sure I’m good.”
He didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, taking it in. The car filled with the sound of the tires on the road and whatever song was playing through the speakers.
“I ain’t mean to come at you like that,” he said after a second. “But all I was trying to say was that if something happen to you; your absence would be felt. I know them your friends but just be mindful of what’s going on around you. Second chances don’t come around too often, bro.”
I nodded. I understood exactly what he meant. I pulled into the rec center parking lot and put the car in park. Kids were outside near the entrance, running back and forth like they had nowhere else to be.
I looked over at him.
“Mike, I love you. And I’m sorry for the scare I gave you when all that went down. You were right back then, and you were right now.” I paused. “But the only promise I can make to you right now is that I promise to do better. I promise to stick around ‘cause who gon’ buy you hot Cheetos if I’m not here.”
He snorted, finally looking at me. He shoved my shoulder lightly before leaning over and placing a kiss on my forehead.
“I love you, too,” he said. “But if you really loved me, you’d go buy them J’s that just dropped for me.”
I laughed and pulled him into a headlock, squeezing just enough to annoy him. He tried to fight his way out, laughing too. And just like that, we were good.
He hopped out of the car and shut the door behind him. “I’ma get a ride home from one of my bros,” he said.
“Aight,” I replied.
I watched him walk toward the entrance, not turning away until he was inside. Then I pulled off with Maleak’s gift still sitting in the backseat, waiting for me to show up somewhere I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be.
I was halfway home when my cellphone rang. I glanced down at it while slowing at a stop sign, already having a feeling about who it was. I answered and tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, keeping my hands on the wheel.
“Hello,” I said.
“Where you at, mami?” he asked, his voice smooth like he’d already been thinking about me.
“I’m on my way home,” I replied.
He paused for a second, then asked, “Stop by this mechanic shop I’m at.”
I looked ahead at the road. It was still early. The sun sat high in the sky, and I didn’t have to be at Sugah’s for hours.
“Where it’s at?” I asked.
He gave me the directions, and I told him I was on my way.
The mechanic shop wasn’t nothing special when I pulled up. Just a small building with faded paint and cars lined up everywhere. Some had their hoods popped open, others sat tilted on jacks, waiting their turn.
The air smelled like oil and hot metal, and I could hear tools clanking before I even cut my engine. I pulled into an empty spot and grabbed my purse.
By the time I stepped out of the car, Damian was already walking toward me.
He didn’t say nothing at first. He just wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him like it was instinct. His hold was firm and familiar.
I let myself relax into it, breathing him in. He smelled clean, like soap and cologne layered together. It did something to me every time.
After a few seconds, he let me go.
“So, you getting your car worked on?” I asked, folding my arms loosely.
“Something like that,” he said. “One of my cars needed body work.”
I nodded, waiting.
“A few bullet holes needed to be covered up,” he added casually.
That pulled me out of whatever soft place I’d drifted into. Reality had a way of slipping back in when it came to him. I didn’t like thinking too hard about that part of his life. It made my chest feel tight.
So, I moved on.
“You needed me here for what exactly?” I asked.
He smiled and reached up, brushing a piece of hair out of my face that the wind had blown loose. The gesture was simple, but it made my heart skip anyway.
“You told me you wanted to meet somewhere new so here we are,” he said.
I giggled and punched his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he said, laughing softly. “I’m joking. I just wanted to see you. Lay my eyes on you.”
That made me feel good. I couldn’t lie about that. Things between us felt easy. Natural. Like we were building something without forcing it.
We stood there talking about nothing and everything. He told me about the Yankees game the night before, going on about a play like he’d been on the field himself. I listened, watching the way his face lit up when he talked.
Then he asked about my nails, taking my hand into his like it belonged there.
“I need them redone actually,” I admitted. “My toes too.”
He ran his thumb over my fingers, slow, thoughtful. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out a wad of bills thick enough to make me raise an eyebrow.
“Here,” he said, holding it out to me. “Go get your hands and toes done after you leave here.”
I blinked up at him, batting my lashes before taking the money and sliding it into my bra like it was second nature.
“Thank you,” I said, leaning up on my toes to kiss his cheek.
Before I could pull away, he caught my chin gently between his fingers. He looked down at me, really looked at me, like he was memorizing something. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. My stomach tightened, waiting.
But he didn’t.
He just held my face there a moment longer before letting me go. We’d get there one day. I wasn’t rushing it. I liked the way he moved with me.
In a slow, intentional way.
We stayed there together until one of the guys called out to say that his car was ready. Damian glanced over, then back at me.
“I’ma call you later,” he said.
“Fine with me,” I replied.
He pulled me into another hug before we separated. I got back in my car and sat there for a second, my fingers resting over the money tucked safely away, before finally pulling off.
I did exactly what he told me to do.
Pretty Nails was moderately crowded when I walked in. The familiar smell of acetone and nail polish hit me immediately. Women filled the chairs, talking and laughing while dryers hummed in the background. I spotted Xi across the room, working on somebody’s feet, her head bent low in concentration.
I signed in and sat down to wait. I didn’t let nobody else do my nails. Xi had been doing mine long enough to know exactly how I liked them.
I picked up a Vibe magazine off the table and flipped through it, not really reading nothing, just passing the time. Every now and then, I glanced up to see how much longer she’d be.
Finally, she looked up and smiled. “Nye,” she called.
I got up and moved over to the pedicure chair, sliding into it and letting her get started on my feet. The warm water helped loosen something in me I didn’t realize had been tight.
“Work been busy?” she asked in her thick accent.
“Always,” I replied, smiling faintly.
We talked here and there while she worked. Nothing serious. Just enough.
“Hey, girl, hey, Xi.”
The voice cut through the air, high and familiar.
I looked up. Tutor was being seated right next to me. My stomach dropped, but I forced myself to smile back at her.
“Thank you girl for the recommendation. Xi has been a life saver,” she said.
“You welcome,” I replied quietly.
I kept my eyes forward, hoping that’d be the end of it. But of course, it wasn’t. As soon as someone started working on her feet, she turned her body towards me.
“So, what’s your name?” she asked.
I bit the inside of my cheek. This was too much, too soon.
“I’m Nyeya,” I said, forcing a polite tone. “And you are?”
Of course, I played crazy like I didn’t know more than just her name.
“Oh, your name is cute. I’m Tutor,” she replied, holding her hand out.
I stared at it for a second before shaking it. Her grip was soft. But I didn’t let our hands stay entwined long, I pulled my hand back quicker than I should’ve.
It felt weird. Even though me and Jey were done, standing there talking to his girl like this didn’t sit right in my spirit. I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew where he’d been. If she knew how close he’d stood in front of me that night. If she knew anything at all.
Her phone rang before she could say anything else, and I silently thanked God for it.
Xi finished my feet, and I moved over to the nail station on the other side almost too fast.
I just needed space.
I sat there while Xi worked on my hands, watching the shape come back to life. My nerves slowly settled, but not all the way. Tutor had to wait until Xi finished with me before she could come over, which gave me enough distance to breathe.
An hour later, Xi was done. I paid her, tipped her, and grabbed my purse, ready to leave.
“Bye Nyeya. See you around girl,” Tutor called out.
I waved without turning fully around. “Bye.”
I pushed through the door and walked straight to my car. Once I got inside and shut the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
I sat there for a second, staring straight ahead.
I knew why that interaction bothered me. I just wasn’t ready to say it out loud. So, I didn’t. I started my car and drove off, leaving it buried exactly where it belonged.
05|25|2002
I rolled over in the bed at the Days Inn, my body heavy in that familiar way it always was after a long night at Sugah’s. My muscles ached, and my feet throbbed faintly every time I shifted under the covers.
I’d gone to work knowing it would help keep my mind off what happened at the nail salon.
I didn’t want to sit still long enough to think about Tutor or the way seeing her had made something twist inside my chest. Dancing gave me somewhere to put it. Somewhere to burn it off.
For a few hours, I didn’t have to be nobody but the girl on stage collecting her money.
When I finally reached for my phone on the nightstand, it was 10:30. Later than I thought. I let out a quiet breath and pushed myself up, sitting on the edge of the bed while the room slowly came back into focus.
My bag sat open on the chair where I’d left it, and I packed my things without rushing. Checkout was a breeze like it always was. The lady behind the counter didn’t look at me long enough to remember my face, and I liked it that way.
The ride home was quiet. The streets moved past me in a blur of sunlight and stop signs, and I drove with one hand on the wheel, already planning out the rest of my day.
Once I got home, I was going to eat, shower, and take another nap before Maleak’s party. That was the only way I was going to have the energy to deal with being around everybody.
And that was exactly what I did. Mama had left food on the stove, and I fixed a plate before heading to the bathroom. The hot shower loosened something in me, the water running down my back while the steam filled the room. By the time I laid down, sleep came easy.
I woke up to Johnnie Taylor crooning “Cheaper to Keep Her” through the house and loud laughter coming from the living room. His voice carried through the walls smooth and steady, mixing with the sound of Mama and them talking like they ain’t have a care in the world.
I laid there for a second, letting it pull me fully awake, before sitting up and getting ready. I moved around my room slowly, humming along to the music as it thumped through the house.
My outfit was simple. Denim shorts and a tank top. My white Forces were crisp and clean. They set everything off just right. It was too hot outside to be doing the most, so I left my hair up in the messy bun it’d been in since work. I didn’t feel like fighting with it.
Mark and his wife Diane were in the living room with Mama, drinks in their hands while they laughed and talked. Mark was Reggie’s younger brother, and he smiled when he saw me.
“Well, look at you,” he said.
I smiled and hugged him, then Diane, then Mama, letting myself exist in that moment for what it was. Reggie was outside on the grill. I stepped out to him, the smell of BBQ thick in the air, and wrapped my arms around him in a quick hug before telling him I was heading out.
“You be safe,” he said, focused on the grill.
I got in my car and made my way to the park.
The parking lot was already full by the time I got there. Cars lined every space, and I had to circle once before finding somewhere to park. When I stepped out, I could see Jacob had gone all out.
Bounce houses filled one side of the park, bright and loud with kids jumping and screaming inside them. There were farm animals fenced off nearby, and a line of kids waited patiently to get their faces painted.
The smell of BBQ floated through the air, mixing with music blasting from the DJ booth. Food sat on tables covered in foil trays, and I could already tell it was about to be good.
I grabbed Maleak’s gift and walked over to the gift table, setting it down carefully.
Kiyah spotted me immediately and hurried over, relief written all over her face.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “I needed somebody to keep me calm. Walk with me as I smoke this.”
She lifted her blunt, and I snickered, falling into step beside her as we walked.
Music thumped around us, bass vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. One thing the Prada Bois knew how to do was throw a party.
Kiyah started telling me about Marcy and whatever drama she’d been stirring up, her voice tight with irritation.
“Today is about Maleak,” I said, cutting her off gently. “Y’all just need to focus on him and nothing else. Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she causing friction.”
Kiyah nodded, blowing smoke into the air as her phone rang. She answered it and told me Natasha and Sami had arrived, and we made our way back toward the main area.
That’s when I noticed Marcy standing off to the side. She was pretty, but there was something stiff about her. Watchful. Maleak ran past her laughing with his siblings and cousins, completely unaware of whatever tension existed behind him.
Natasha and Sami approached, and I hugged them both. Natasha held me tight, and Sami gave me that same mellow look he always did.
Nataya lingered behind them, quiet in a way that didn’t sit right with me.
I pulled her into my arms and held her longer than I normally would, and she leaned into it like she needed it.
People kept arriving. Tonga and Tama showed up with their younger brother Talla who from what I heard had just got out of prison. Bronson sat at a table with his wife and kids, smiling like he was exactly where he belonged. Solo lingered near the grill talking to some guy with long hair I couldn’t name.
I grabbed a plate and fixed me something to eat, settling down at one of the picnic tables. I wasn’t in a drinking mood, but I still poured me a cup of Jungle Juice. Chunks of fruit floated at the top, and it tasted sweet going down.
Kiyah ended up with Jacob, laughing with family. Natasha and Sami sat at their own table, wrapped up in each other like nobody else existed. Nataya eventually came and sat beside me with her own plate. We ate quietly for a while, and that’s when I noticed it.
Her bracelet was gone.
“You took it off?” I asked, nodding toward her wrist.
She gave me a small smile. “I did. I moved out the house and left it behind.”
I smiled back and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” I told her softly. “Just take it one day at a time.”
I meant it. But I also knew better than anyone that leaving wasn’t the same as being free. It didn’t work like that with men like Jimmy. It didn’t work like that with men like Jey.
Still, leaving was the first step. And for now, that was enough.
Things at the party were going well. No drama popped off pulling attention away from the reason everybody was there.
Kiyah and Marcy kept their distance like they understood today wasn’t the day for whatever tension lived between them. I didn’t mind staying longer than I planned. I was actually having a good time.
I ended up at a picnic table with Tama and Bronson, playing Spades with Sami as my partner. The cards slapped against the table in quick rhythm, laughter and trash talk floating between us.
“Yea, take that,” I goaded, slapping my card down harder than necessary.
Sami leaned back in his chair with a grin, and we slapped fives, both of us knowing we were winning. Bronson shook his head, muttering under his breath while Tama just laughed like he’d already accepted defeat.
The game went on a few more hands, but eventually I pushed my chair back, needing to move around. Sitting still too long made me restless.
I found myself lingering near the cake table. Kiyah had said they’d be cutting it soon, and I already knew I wanted an end piece because something about the extra icing made it worth waiting for.
I was standing there, scanning the table, when someone cleared their throat behind me.
I turned around and found Jimmy standing there. He looked different than he normally did. His face serious in a way I wasn’t used to seeing.
“Aye, Nyeya,” he started. “Um… I just wanted to apologize for that night at the club. I ain’t mean no harm.”
I raised a brow, surprised. I hadn’t been expecting that. We’d all been drunk, emotions running high, and things got out of hand. That was just the truth of it.
But I could appreciate him saying something.
“You good with me,” I replied easily. “I apologize as well for popping you in your shit.”
A grin pulled at my mouth.
Jimmy chuckled and stepped forward, pulling me into a hug. I hugged him back without hesitation. There wasn’t any tension there. Not anymore. When he pulled away, everything between us felt settled.
Soon enough, people started gathering around the cake table. Jacob stood holding Maleak in his arms while everybody crowded in close. Kiyah stood on one side of him, Marcy on the other.
I watched as Kiyah reached down and held one of Jacob’s daughters’ hands while she smiled at Maleak, her whole face soft as he giggled at all the attention on him.
It made me proud of the woman she was becoming. Kiyah could be a lot of things, but when it came to Jacob and his kids, she showed up.
Everybody sang Happy Birthday, their voices uneven but loud. Maleak blew out his candles with Jacob’s help, and people clapped and cheered like it was the best thing they’d seen all day. The cake got cut, and I waited just long enough to get what I came for.
My end piece.
I took my plate and walked off, wanting to enjoy it without nobody hovering around me. The icing was thick, sweet the way I liked it. I was halfway through it when Solo slid up beside me like he’d been there the whole time.
“That cake must be good,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.
I nodded, already scooping up another bite.
“You want some?” I offered, holding the plate slightly toward him.
He paused like he was considering it, then shook his head. “I’m good.”
I shrugged and ate it myself.
We stood there in comfortable silence, leaning against the railing by the lake. The water moved slowly, reflecting the late afternoon sun. I could feel Solo glance at me every now and then, but he didn’t say nothing right away.
“You came over here for a reason,” I said finally. “What was it?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “You right. I came to check on you. But judging by how you getting down on that cake, I see you good.”
I snickered, because he wasn’t wrong. That cake didn’t stand a chance once I got my hands on it.
I hadn’t really spent time with Solo when I was with Jey. He’d always been around, but not like this. Not one-on-one. Standing next to him now, I realized how easy he was to be around. Calm. Cool. Funny in a quiet way.
We talked a little longer before he told me he had to head out. I nodded and watched him walk off before finishing the last bite of my cake. I stayed there a moment longer, enjoying the quiet before heading back toward the area everyone was.
That’s when I saw them.
Jey and Tutor.
They stood off to the side near Jacob, laughing and smiling. Jey’s arm was wrapped around shoulders.
I froze.
For a second, I couldn’t even move. Couldn’t even process it fully. My chest tightened before I could stop it.
“You okay?” Kiyah’s voice came beside me.
I let out a breath and nodded, even though I wasn’t sure if I meant it. She studied my face like she didn’t believe me.
“Come on,” I said, forcing a smile. “I want some more cake and Jungle Juice.”
Kiyah laughed and looped her arm through mine, and we walked toward the tables. It didn’t take long before Jey looked up and our eyes met.
I sucked my teeth softly and looked away first. I needed his attention to stay on the woman beside him, not me.
With more Jungle Juice in my system, the night felt easier to sit with the circumstances I found myself in. The tightness that’d followed me around all day loosened enough for me to breathe without thinking about it.
I chose not to run off just because Jey was there. I’d done enough running. I was actually having a good time, and I wanted to let myself enjoy it.
So, when I saw the face painter sitting there without nobody in her chair, I walked over and sat down, letting her drape the cape around my shoulders.
Nataya came over while the painter worked, her presence quiet but welcome.
We talked while the brush moved across my skin, her voice low and steady beside me. I watched the painter’s hand in the mirror, the careful strokes turning into something delicate.
When she finished, I leaned forward slightly, studying the butterfly stretching along the left side of my face, flowers curling around its wings. It was cute.
I smiled faintly at myself, but my eyes shifted in the mirror when I noticed movement behind us.
Jimmy stood a few feet back, his arms relaxed at his sides, but his eyes locked on Nataya. He wasn’t smiling. Just watching her. She didn’t notice. She sat there talking to the painter like she wasn’t being watched.
From what I knew, they hadn’t really spoken since she left him. Not really. And seeing him there like that, silent and still, made something uneasy stir in my chest. It felt like standing too close to something fragile. Like if anybody breathed wrong, it would crack.
I looked away, hoping whatever lived between them stayed quiet for tonight.
The music picked up again soon after, louder now that the sun was slipping lower. The sky softened into gold and orange, and the party shifted with it. Natasha grabbed my hand and pulled me into the dance circle before I could think too hard about it.
We kept it light, laughing while kids ran around us, the adults careful not to let the music pull them too far.
And then Tweet came on. The first notes of “Oops (Oh My)” slid into the air, and my body reacted before I could stop it. That song lived somewhere in my muscles. Sugah’s had burned it into me.
I smiled, dropping into the rhythm without hesitation.
“Drop it, bring back it up,” Kiyah hyped behind me.
I giggled, doing exactly that, letting my hips roll slowly before bringing myself back up. For those few seconds, it wasn’t about nobody watching. It was just me and the music.
But when I straightened, my eyes lifted on instinct.
And there he was. Jey stood off to the side, his eyes fixed on me like he hadn’t looked away once.
Tutor stood beside him talking to Marcy, her hand resting lightly against his arm, completely unaware that his attention wasn’t on her. His face was neutral, but his eyes gave off something else, something heavier. Something unfinished.
I held his gaze for a second longer than I meant to, then smirked faintly to myself and looked away.
I stepped out of the circle after that, my chest rising while I caught my breath. I sat at an empty table, watching everybody else continue dancing.
Sami tried his best to keep up with Natasha, his movements stiff while she laughed and whined her hips to the beat. Kiyah and Bronson’s wife danced together nearby, their laughter loud and careless.
I let myself sit there and take it in. Let myself exist without thinking too far ahead. For once, nothing felt like it was about to fall apart.
But the Jungle Juice caught up with me. I had to pee bad enough that I couldn’t ignore it no more. I stood and made my way toward the bathroom inside the brick building, the sound of the party fading behind me as soon as I stepped inside.
The air was cooler in there. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead while I handled my business, the normalcy of it grounding me. When I finished, I stood at the sink and washed my hands slowly, watching the water run over my fingers.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The butterfly was still perfect against my skin. My eyes looked brighter than they had earlier. I could admit I had a buzz. Not enough to lose control. Just enough to soften everything.
That’s when I saw him.
He stood behind me in the mirror, leaning against one of the stall doors like he’d been there waiting. My stomach tightened before I could stop it.
“You in the wrong bathroom,” I said coldly, not turning around.
He said nothing, eyes appraising me.
I dried my hands carefully, refusing to give him the reaction my body wanted to give.
I turned and walked toward the door, ready to leave him standing there with whatever he thought he had to say.
But his hand closed around my arm, gentle but firm enough to stop me.
“Don’t touch me, dude,” I warned, my voice low and steady.
He smiled slightly, the bottom row of his gold grills catching the light.
“Let me talk to you real quick.”
I cut my eyes at him. “No.”
I tried to step around him, but he shifted, blocking my path with his body.
“Why you being weird with me, Nyeya?” he asked. “Like I did something to you.”
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. He smirked like my silence proved his point.
“You came back like it was nothing,” he continued. “Coming back around my people like it’s good. It’s not. You ain’t for Prada so why you still coming around?”
My brows pulled together, anger rising fast and clean. How dare he question me. How dare he stand there like he had the right.
“I came to support my friend,” I shot back. “You can get out my face with that other shit. You might be the leader of the Prada Bois but you ain’t nothing to me. I can do as I please.”
His jaw tightened. And for a second, I thought he’d move.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pulled me closer.
Our faces were inches apart. Close enough that I could see the glassiness in his eyes. Close enough to smell the liquor on his breath.
His hand slid along my side, and his fingers found the dip in my skin where the muscle was never the same. The place where one bullet had taken something permanent.
I froze.
His expression changed the second he realized what he was touching. The arrogance fell off his face like it’d never been there. His thumb moved slowly over the scar, gentle. Careful.
Like he was trying to soothe something that couldn’t be undone.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Nye… shit, I’m so sorry.”
My throat tightened. His other hand found the other healed wound on my arm without him even looking. His fingers rested there like he remembered exactly where it lived. Like he’d never forgotten.
Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked hard, refusing to let them fall.
“Let me go,” I whispered.
He shook his head, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to.”
Something in me fell apart.
The tears came before I could stop them, sliding down my face in quiet betrayal. His eyes filled too, his face crumbling in a way I’d never seen before.
He reached for me like he wanted to pull me into him, like he wanted to fix something that had already been destroyed.
My knees weakened.
For so many nights, I’d cried wishing I could be in his arms again. Wishing he’d choose me the way I chose him. But standing there now, I understood exactly how dangerous that place was.
“No,” I cried, my voice shaking. “No. Let me go. Let me go.”
I pushed against him harder that time, breaking free from his grip. I stumbled backward, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears.
I didn’t look at him again.
I couldn’t.
I turned and ran out of the bathroom, the cool air outside hitting my face but doing nothing to steady me.
I walked straight to my car without saying goodbye to nobody. Without looking back. My hands trembled as I unlocked the door, and the second I got inside, the tears came harder.
I drove home crying, the road blurring in front of me. Because when nothing should’ve mattered anymore… everything still did.
And the wall I’d spent years building had finally cracked.
Questions 4 Y'all
How y'all feel about Tutor? She seems nice.
Damian is something. If you were Nye, would you keep entertaining him knowing what you know?
Jey has his moments. How did the scene in the bathroom make you feel? (I lowkey cried writing that part LOL)
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language. Mild violence.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 5: Ego
05|14|2002
From Sunday to Tuesday, I worked. Each night at Sugah’s folded into the next in a way that made time feel less like something fixed and more like something I stepped in and out of. The music, the lights, the heat of eyes on my skin just became apart of my nightly routine.
I learned when to make my rounds, when to stay still and let customers come to me, when to step fully into Noir and let her do what she was good at doing. The money stayed consistent which made it easier to grind every night.
When my nights ended, I didn’t go home. Instead, I checked into the Days Inn right off the highway. I’d shower, sleep until checkout time, and start my day from there. It wasn’t something I planned. It just seemed like the easier thing to do.
“You know you can come home whenever you leave that place. No need to be staying at the hotel, Nye.”
Mama’s voice cut through the quiet Tuesday morning as we sat across from each other at the kitchen table.
I nodded, chewing through a strawberry Pop-Tart, the sweetness almost too much on my tongue. She already knew about Sugah’s. I had kept it to myself at first, not because I was ashamed, but because I knew that’s not the life she wanted for me.
But keeping it from her started to feel childish, and I wasn’t a child anymore. Being grown meant standing on every decision you made weather good or bad.
“Ma, I know,” I said after swallowing. “But I don’t wanna be coming in at that time of the morning waking y’all up.”
She watched me closely, not judging, just taking me in. When I first told her, she hadn’t liked it. I could see it in the tightness around her mouth; in the way she chose her words carefully. But she also knew me. Toy knew once I decided something, I wasn’t backing down. I was her child after all.
But as long as I stayed honest, stayed careful, and stayed on track with finishing school, she gave me what she could which was her support, even when it scared her.
“You might as well come on home,” she said after a moment. “Mike run in and out of this house at all hours of the night, so you might as well.”
My fingers stilled against the foil wrapper in my hand. Just hearing his name made something in my chest tighten before I could stop it.
We still hadn’t talked since that night in my room. I knew we needed to because the silence sitting between us wasn’t doing either of us any favors. But I didn’t know what to say yet. I wasn’t trying to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. So, until I could, I’d just let him be.
Mama stood after a while, grabbing her purse as Reggie called from the living room that it was time for them to go.
She leaned down and kissed the top of my head before heading out, leaving the house quiet behind her. I stayed at the table a little longer, staring at nothing in particular, before pushing my chair back and moving through the rest of my day.
I washed some clothes first, the steady hum of the machine filling the hallway. Then I cleaned my room, folding things, organizing the pieces of my life that would soon be packed into boxes again. Later, I managed to start packing the few boxes I had set up for things I didn’t need at the time.
By the time the afternoon slipped into evening, I turned my attention to getting ready. The agenda for the night was different. Tonight was for me and my girls to just hang and chill, which made me happy.
Around six, I stood in front of my mirror, fixing my hair that was pulled into long ponytail that trailed down my back. I slipped into a beige romper that hugged my curves just right and stepped into my Tom Ford heels, watching the way they changed my posture without trying. I kept my makeup simple; just some mascara and clear gloss.
Downtown was alive by the time I pulled up to the Vine. The building sat tucked between others that glowed under streetlights, its windows casting warm light onto the sidewalk. Inside, the air was thick with music and conversation, the kind of energy that wrapped around you the second you walked in.
My girls were already there.
“’Bout time yo’ ass got here,” Kiyah fussed the moment she saw me. “How you let Tasha slow ass beat you here?”
I laughed, waving her off as I leaned down to hug her, then Natasha and Nataya. Being around them felt easy in a way nothing else did.
“Y’all act like I’m late late,” I said, sliding into my seat.
The waitress came by not long after, and we ordered drinks and appetizers without hesitation. Conversation picked up quickly, overlapping in the way it always did when we hadn’t been together in too long.
Natasha spoke first, her voice tight with frustration. “I’m just over it, you know. Like they too old for this shit. How long does he expect me to sit here while he out here dodging bullets from who knows who.”
She had just found out about Sami and Solo being in a shootout at a gas station a few weeks ago. Not because he told her but because she overheard him talking about it like it was nothing.
We all understood what came with loving men like them. Violence wasn’t something that surprised you. It was something you learned to live amongst, even when you hated it.
The food and drinks came not long after that, covering the table in plates and glasses that made it feel like we’d ordered too much even though we hadn’t.
Kiyah didn’t waste no time digging in, already mid-rant like she’d been waiting all day to say it out loud about Marcy telling Jacob she wanted none of his people at their son’s party which meant Kiyah if we were calling it like it was.
“Like I told him, don’t pay for shit and watch her broke ass be crying ’cause the baby ain’t gon’ have nothing. You can’t run shit when you ain’t got shit. I’m so tired of her ass.”
I smirked, dragging my straw between my lips as I listened.
Marcy had always been bold in ways that didn’t make sense, like she thought making things harder would somehow make her matter more from what I was learning.
Their son’s birthday party was supposed to be next week. One way or another, I hope they got things figured out for the baby’s sake. He didn’t deserve to go without because they couldn’t come to a resolution.
Kiyah slapped Nataya lightly on the arm. “Well spill it. What has Jimmy big head ass done now?”
That’s when I realized how quiet Taya had been. She wasn’t even eating for real, just pushing her food around like she forgot it was there. And that wasn’t like her at all.
She took a sip of her Sprite before clearing her throat.
“I—he’s just a lot at times. I know he means well but sometimes it’s too much. I’m only 21 and he’s expecting so much from me. I ain’t ready for all that.”
My eyes dropped to the bracelet on her wrist without me thinking about it. The gold caught the light every time she moved. Jimmy had given it to her around the time Jey had given me mines. It had different words than mine had, but it looked like it carried the same weight.
Natasha didn’t hesitate. “I told you what to do before you run out of time, Taya. If you ain’t ready for it, do something about it.”
Taya’s head snapped toward her twin. “I can’t do that, Tasha. Mama didn’t raise us to believe in things like that.”
Natasha shrugged like it was simple. “She didn’t raise us to date street niggas either but here we are. Mines is just white. So, what’s stopping you from doing what’s best for you?”
The table went quiet after that. I could see it all over Taya’s face. The fear. The confusion. The weight of something bigger than what she’d said out loud.
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Whatever you decide to do, Taya. We’ll be there for you. Ain’t no judgement here.”
She looked at me then, her fingers squeezing mine back before she nodded.
Kiyah leaned back in her seat like she’d said enough about that. “Yea, we’ll be here. But for now, let’s talk about you and Jey.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing a mozzarella stick off the plate.
“There’s nothing to talk about. He pulled up on me on some bullshit. Like we not cool so I was confused he tried to take it there.”
They all looked at me, waiting. It was only fair. Everybody else had aired their business out.
“He followed me from Sugah’s,” I said finally. “Someone must’ve told him I was there.”
Kiyah’s brows furrowed like she was about to ask something, but I spoke again before she could.
“I work at Sugah’s, y’all.”
Their mouths fell open all at once. Nataya’s hand even flew up to cover hers.
“Doing what though?” Tasha asked.
I took a breath. The time to tell them was now before word got around.
“I’m a dancer. It’s nothing new. I started up North and it helped me pay for school.”
I watched their faces, waiting to see if anything changed. It didn’t.
Kiyah leaned forward, squinting at my legs. “So that’s why them legs of yours look strong as hell. Yo’ ass been twirling on poles every night.”
We all busted out laughing, and just like that, the tension was gone. My shoulders loosened without me realizing how tight they’d been.
They started asking questions after that. Taya asked how my mama felt about it. Kiyah asked if I had to get fully naked, which I didn’t but some girls did. Natasha just wanted to know how everything worked.
I answered truthfully, telling them about my time at Desires, about Sugah’s, about how things ran.
“I’m still learning how things go at Sugah’s,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “But so far I’m happy there. The money I’m seeing definitely setting me up to not have to take out loans for school in the Fall.”
They nodded. They knew how serious I was about that.
“So, when Jey got out the car, what did he say?” Taya asked.
My jaw tightened just thinking about it. “He basically called me a hoe for dancing. Said women like me shouldn’t be doing shit like that.”
Kiyah snorted. “So, what does that make his ghetto Rapunzel he keeps locked away? Does she not lay on her back for whatever scraps he throws her way?”
“Kiyah!” Taya said, covering her mouth.
Kiyah just shrugged like she hadn’t said nothing wrong.
I shook my head, fighting a smile. Kiyah had never been one to hold her tongue.
After that, the conversation drifted into other things like plans for us to go out on Thursday night to a new club Tasha had heard about along with more food and drinks.
By the time we were done, my stomach was full and my heart felt lighter than it had in days.
Outside, we hugged and said our goodbyes before heading to our cars. I sat behind the wheel for a second before starting it, letting the quiet settle around me. Being with them always did me some good.
05|15|2002
Wednesday night, I choose to stay home for the night. I spent my time doing domestic stuff like washing clothes. Mama had a client that afternoon, so I helped her finish braiding the last few rows, passing her grease and rubber bands while she worked.
The smell of hair oil and braiding spray clung to everything. It reminded me of being younger, sitting between her knees while she braided mine.
By the time the last braid was dipped and wrapped, both of us were tired. We settled on the couch, the TV playing something neither of us was really watching.
I had a taste for sour gummies that wouldn’t leave me alone, and I was going to get them no matter how late it was.
“You want something from the store, mama?” I asked.
“Nah, I don’t want nothing but the bed,” she replied, already sounding like sleep was calling her name. “But grab Reggie a honeybun so when he gets home he can have that for dessert.”
I nodded, got up, and headed to my room to slide my slippers on and grab my purse. There wasn’t no need for a whole production; just keys, purse, and out the door.
During the car ride, I jammed to Jagged Edge, bouncing my shoulders along the way like I didn’t have a care in the world. I pulled up to the nearest gas station. It was rather empty at that one, so I hopped out without a second thought, walking inside like it was any other quick run.
I took my time once in there, grabbing my sour gummies, Reggie’s honeybun, and a bag of Hot Cheetos for Michael. I figured I’d leave them on his bed as a small ice breaker. I didn’t know if he’d take it or ignore it, but it felt better than doing nothing.
Just as I reached for a SoBe in one of the coolers, somebody grabbed ahold of my waist.
My whole body jolted upright. I spun around fast, breath catching, and there was Damian standing there with that smirk on his face like he’d been waiting to see my reaction.
“You scared the shit outta me. Don’t play like that,” I fussed, still trying to get my heart to calm down.
Damian only chuckled, leaning up against the cooler next to the one I had opened like he was posted there.
“My bad, bonita. I just had to do it,” he said, smiling.
And without me even meaning to, I found myself smiling right along with him.
He had on a black shirt and jeans, and when my eyes dropped to his feet, I paused. He had on the matching black cowboy boots.
I gave him a look.
“You just left the Tejano club or what?”
Damian snorted. “No, but I’ll take you if you wanna go.”
That took me out. We both laughed, one of those real, hearty laughs that made the moment feel lighter than it had any business being. With Damian, it was easy. He never took himself too seriously, and I’d grown to appreciate that more than I used to.
I grabbed my drink and took off down one aisle, and Damian fell right in step behind me like it was natural. I could feel his eyes on me, steady on my back, on my hips, on the way I moved. And I didn’t hate it. Truth was, I liked it.
At the counter, Damian insisted on paying for my things since he was getting gas anyway. I stood off to the side while he did his thing, watching him hand over the money like it was nothing.
And in the middle of it, my mind drifted for a second, wondering where he’d been. We really hadn’t spoken since that night at the sports bar. He hadn’t even called me. I hadn’t reached out either, but still—he’d been the one moving like he was trying to court me, so where was that energy now.
Damian handing me the bag, brought me back to the present. We walked out together, the night air wrapping around us as the door shut behind us. His car was parked across from mine.
“I’m about to put my stuff in the car and I’ll be right back,” I told him, because I did want to see what was going on with him.
He nodded, heading to the pump.
I quickly dropped my bag in my car and walked back over. Damian was pumping his gas when I popped up beside him, leaning on the cab of the truck he was in. The Prada Bois always had an influx of cars, so it didn’t even surprise me that he was in something different yet again.
“So, where you been?” I inquired.
Damian looked at me for a second, thoughtful. “Around.”
Then his mouth tipped like he was holding back a laugh. “What about you? Where you been besides arguing in Waffle House parking lots?”
I could hear the teasing in his tone. I bit my lip as I smiled. “How you know about that?”
Damian shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. He put the nozzle back in the pump, then stepped closer, close enough that our bodies almost touched.
“I got my ways,” he said. “You gonna tell me about it. I’d rather hear it from you.”
I wanted whatever was brewing between me and him to be built on honesty, so I told him the truth about why Jey and I were arguing that night. I left out the part about me working at Sugah’s. I’d leave that for another day.
Damian didn’t interrupt. He just listened, nodding every now and then until I was done.
“So yeah, that’s what happened,” I finished. “He still thinks he has a say in what I do.”
“Does he?” Damian asked.
It was simple, but it made me pause. I thought on it, really letting the question sit before answering. After a few seconds, I lifted my chin.
“As much as he think he does, he don’t,” I asserted. “When I left back then, that was the end of him having access to me.”
Damian nodded once. We stood there in silence for a few moments, the hum of the station and the quiet night filling in the space between us.
Then he turned fully toward me and rubbed his calloused hands down my exposed arms, slow and sure like he wasn’t asking permission with his mouth, but he was with everything else.
He looked at me openly, like he wasn’t trying to hide nothing, and it kicked up butterflies in my stomach I wasn’t prepared for. Damian had this way of making you feel like you were the only thing that mattered.
“Good,” he hummed. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear from you.”
I couldn’t even process what he meant by that before his lips were planted on my forehead. Soft. Intentional. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. It sparked something between us so quick it felt like a fuse getting lit.
I looked up at him, biting my lip. He licked his in response, and for a second I felt myself wanting to throw caution to the wind just to see what would happen if I did.
“Call me soon, okay,” I said, voice lower than I meant it to be. “Let’s meet up somewhere other than gas stations and sports bars.”
Damian grinned, finally releasing his hold on me. We said goodbye, and he told me to pick up when he called. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked back to my car. I didn’t look back. I didn’t have to.
I drove off with a smile on my lips, realizing crossing lines made me feel alive. And crossing that line with Damian was something I was edging closer to doing.
05|16|2002
Escapade was alive in a way that made your chest vibrate the second you stepped through the doors. A mixture of heat, noise, sweat, smoke was what we were met with upon entering. It wrapped around Kiyah and I like it had been waiting on us specifically.
Bodies were packed tight on the dance floor, moving like one organism, hips rolling, hands in the air. Weed smoke curled through the air, mixing with the artificial fog pouring off the stage while strobe lights bounced off the walls and caught on jewelry, teeth, eyes.
Everything flickered. Everything pulsed.
I’d dressed for it too. My Roberto Cavalli tiger jeans hugged my hips just right, the denim soft from wear but still fitted enough to turn heads. The small orange tank top showed off my stomach every time I moved, catching flashes of light. I felt good, ready for whatever the night had to offer.
Kiyah was already puffing on a blunt she’d lifted from somebody between the door and the bar like it was her God-given right. She exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded, before passing it back without even asking who it belonged to. I didn’t smoke, never had, but I didn’t mind the smell. I also didn’t mind the way it softened the edges of everything.
We slid up to the bar, elbows finding space between strangers while we waited on Tasha. She’d told us she was running behind, telling us she had to do her mama’s hair first.
The twins mama hadn’t been too enthused with the choices her daughters made in men, but they loved her anyway. Keeping that relationship was still important and I respected it.
“Aye, we about to have a time,” Kiyah shouted over the music, her voice already thick with excitement.
I just nodded, my hips swaying where I stood, body picking up the beat without permission.
The bartender didn’t even ask. He just slid two shots of Patron across the counter like he already knew what we needed. I grabbed mine, the glass cold against my fingers, and tossed it back.
The burn slid down my throat fast and mean, settling warm in my chest. Beside me, Kiyah made a face, her whole body recoiling before she sucked her teeth.
“Shit never get easier,” she coughed.
Khia’s “My Neck, My Back” had the whole place losing its mind when I saw them. Tasha first, pushing through the crowd like she owned it. And behind her—
Nataya.
I blinked, thinking maybe the liquor was playing tricks on me. Last I heard, Jimmy had told her she couldn’t come. His word was apparently law. But there she was, in a skintight mini dress that rode up her thighs every time she stepped, her hair pulled into a messy updo that made her look soft and grown at the same time.
Kiyah saw her too and hollered. “Okay, bitch! I see you,” she shouted, popping Taya on the butt.
Nataya laughed, that quiet little laugh of hers, before asking the bartender for cranberry juice.
When she got it, we leaned in together, four heads close, glasses raised.
“To the best summer of our lives,” Natasha cheered.
We clinked glasses and drank.
After that, it was inevitable. The dance floor called to us, and we answered. The DJ bounced from one hit to the next, hip-hop bleeding into pop, bass rattling through the soles of my feet.
I danced with Kiyah first, our movements easy, familiar. Then some guy slid up behind me, polite enough to ask, hands hovering until I nodded.
He smelled like cologne and smoke. We danced for a few songs, letting myself get lost in the rhythm, in the simplicity of being wanted without history attached to it.
By the time I broke away, my skin was damp, my breathing heavier. He’d sent drinks over from the bar for all of us while we danced, and the alcohol was settling into my system proper now. Everything felt slower when I stopped moving. Heavier. The room hazy around the edges.
I leaned against the bar, closing my eyes for just a second, trying to steady myself. My fingers curled against the sticky surface while the bass thumped through my spine.
That’s when I heard it.
“Who the fuck is this? Taya, stop fucking playing in my face!”
My eyes snapped open.
Jimmy.
I knew that voice like I knew my own heartbeat.
I pushed off the bar, my vision still catching up with my body as I searched the crowd. It didn’t take long to find him. He was right there in the middle of everything, in Nataya’s face, his posture aggressive, his energy wrong.
And next to her stood the guy she’d been dancing with, his jaw tight, shoulders squared.
Everything happened fast after that. Too fast.
Jimmy swung first.
Bodies collided, fists flying, the two of them crashing to the floor as people scattered or surged closer, depending on what they came for. Nataya was screaming, her hands reaching, grabbing, useless against the violence unfolding in front of her.
My chest tightened. Adrenaline slammed into my bloodstream, sharp and immediate. I pushed forward, forcing my way through bodies, my only thought getting to her. But I didn’t make it far.
Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, strong and unyielding, pulling me backward.
“Stop fighting me, girl. Nyeya, chill.”
My stomach dropped.
Jey.
Even before I saw him, I knew. His grip tightened when I struggled, lifting me clean off my feet like I weighed nothing. The room spun, lights blurring into streaks of white and color as he carried me toward the exit.
“Jey, let go. The fuck. Move,” I ordered, pushing against his arms.
He didn’t answer nor loosen his hold on me.
By the time we made it outside, the cool air hit my skin, sharp enough to bring me back into myself. He finally set me down on the hood of a car, his hands lingering at my waist a second longer than necessary.
I looked up at him. His brown eyes were already on me.
And then—
“Taya- Jimmy get the fuck off her before I whoop yo’ drunk ass!”
Natasha.
We both turned towards the commotion. She was in Jimmy’s face now, her finger pressed into his chest while Nataya stood off to the side, crying, her hands trembling.
When Jimmy grabbed Natasha’s arm, rough and careless, something inside me snapped clean in half.
I slid off the hood before I even realized I was moving.
“Boy, don’t yank on her like that,” I shouted.
Jimmy’s head turned toward me slowly, his eyes glassy, unfocused.
“The fuck you gon’ do, Nyeya? Fight me?” he slurred, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth.
I didn’t waste time replying. My fist connected with the edge of his face, as he tried to drunkenly dodge me.
He stumbled back, shock flashing across his face before it twisted into something uglier.
“Oh my God, guys stop it,” Nataya cried.
Jimmy laughed, low and mean, stepping toward me like he meant to finish something. He didn’t get the chance to lunge at me like he wanted to.
Jey’s arm shot out, yanking me behind him, his body stepping between mine and Jimmy’s like a wall.
He stopped in his tracks when Jey stepped in front of me, his eyes dragging slowly over his brother like he was measuring him. Then he laughed, bitterly, like none of this meant anything.
“I’ll go through you, uce. If she want fight, let her ass fight,” Jimmy seethed.
Behind Jey, I was already trying to move around him. My body buzzed hot and restless, the alcohol turning every emotion up too loud. I paced behind him like a lion in a cage, my hands flexing at my sides, waiting for an opening.
“Uce, get yo’ drunk ass in the car,” Jey said, calm but firm. “If you think about to let you touch her, you must be crazy.”
He shifted every time I shifted, blocking me without even looking back. While Jimmy stayed focused on him, he didn’t even see Natasha rushing up behind him.
She jumped on his back, fists flying, screaming at him, and all hell broke loose again.
Jimmy staggered, trying to shake her off. People shouted. Some backed away. Others leaned in closer, hungry for the show. I saw my opening when Jey turned his head toward them, and I took off toward Jimmy.
But before I could reach him, somebody stepped directly in my path.
Solo.
“I can’t let you do that,” he said.
He didn’t raise his voice nor touch me. He just stood there, solid and immovable. I pouted, frustrated, trying to step around him, but he was too big. There was no getting through him unless he allowed it, and he wasn’t about to.
Behind him, Jimmy finally slung Natasha off his back. She stumbled, but Kiyah was right there, swinging on him, screaming for him to run up.
“Yea, what’s up bitch. Let’s go,” Kiyah spat.
That’s when it all made sense. Kiyah hadn’t got lost in the crowd; she’d called Jacob. And Jacob had brought along Solo.
“Kiyah, turn him loose!” Jacob yelled, grabbing her, trying to pry her fingers from Jimmy’s hair.
That’s when I saw Nataya crumpled on the ground, shoulders shuddering from crying so loudly. All this was too much for her. Taya never did drama like us; she was emotionally sensitive.
I slipped past Solo while he was distracted and rushed to her, dropping beside her and pulling her into my arms.
“Taya, it’s okay,” I whispered, rocking her gently. “Everybody okay.”
She clung to me, trembling. Around us, the chaos started slowing down. Jimmy ended up on the ground. Jacob dragged Kiyah away from him. Jey held Natasha back, trying to calm her down.
Sirens echoed in the distance, and people started scrambling toward their cars.
“Aye, we gotta go. Bring her with you,” Solo called to me.
I nodded, helping Nataya to her feet. She leaned heavily against me as we shuffled to Solo’s car. He opened the door, and I eased her inside before climbing in beside her. Solo pulled off without hesitation.
“I’ma take y’all up the street until things cool off. I’ll take you back to your car afterwards,” he said.
I nodded, holding Nataya close as she cried softly into my shoulder. The alcohol was wearing off now, leaving behind a dull ache behind my eyes and exhaustion in my bones.
We pulled into an empty shopping plaza and parked. Not long after, Jey pulled in behind us in an SUV. I helped Nataya out of the car, her fingers still gripping my arm like she needed the contact to stay upright.
“Ba—Baby, I’m sorry. Come here,” Jimmy slurred, stumbling toward her.
I stepped in front of her without thinking.
“Jimmy, move,” I said sharply. “Don’t come over here after you done showed yo’ drunk ass.”
He stopped, outstretched hands falling to his sides. I could tell he was starting to sober up.
Natasha tried to rush him again, but Jey caught her before she could reach him.
“Chill the fuck out, aight!” he snapped. “It’s over. Let’s just wait until we can go back to the club.”
Natasha mumbled under her breath but walked off. The parking lot went quiet except for Nataya’s sniffles.
Solo came over then, looking between us.
“You aight? She aight?” he asked.
I blinked, surprised to hear him speak so much. Solo had always been the quiet type.
“We good,” I said.
He nodded and gave me a small smile. Behind him, Jey cleared his throat. My expression hardened immediately. I didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want him anywhere near me.
We waited another twenty minutes before heading back to the club. Tasha, Nataya, and I rode with Solo. The parking lot still had cars, but the police were nowhere in sight.
Nataya told Natasha quietly that she was going home with her. Jimmy looked like it hurt him, but he didn’t say anything. Jacob said he’d take Kiyah home in her car. That left me walking toward mine alone after making sure Nataya was steady.
“Aye, you good to drive?” Solo asked.
I turned toward him to answer, but Jey cut in.
“Why you asking, Uce? She grown. I’m sure she do that shit all the time,” he scoffed.
I looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Shut yo’ bitch ass up. Solo was talking to me. He ain’t say shit to you.”
Solo tried to hide it, but I caught the smirk tugging at his mouth.
“I’m good, boo,” I told him. “Thank you for being a gentleman.”
I shot Jey one last heated look before turning away.
Once I got inside my car, I sat there for a second, rubbing my temples. The quiet felt heavy after all that noise. How could a night that started off so good turn into something like this?
Michael’s words replayed in my head the whole drive home. They weren't just warnings. They felt like truth.
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language. Mild violence.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 3: Truth Is
At the red brick house on Darby Ln...
“Baby… babe?”
Jey dragged his hands down his face, palms pressing into his eyes until colored sparks burst behind his lids. He heard Tutor’s voice drifting in from somewhere behind him, soft and familiar, but he didn’t have it in him to answer.
He sat sunk deep into the leather recliner inside his man cave, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed like the weight of his thoughts had finally caught up to him.
Nyeya.
She’d walked back into all their lives like she never left. Like three years hadn’t passed. Like she hadn’t cracked something in him that never quite settled back right.
He’d spent that entire time convincing himself he was good, that he’d moved on, that what they had was just something short and reckless. Then he saw her again. Saw her laughing. Saw her leaning into Damian like it was nothing.
His jaw tightened.
No. He couldn’t have that. Not from Damian. Not from anybody.
“Babe, you ain’t hear me?”
Tutor’s voice came closer this time, cutting through the hum of the television playing low in the background. Jey squeezed his eyes shut once more before finally turning his head toward the doorway.
Tutor stood there with one hand braced against the frame, lips glossed, hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves tipped with red that caught the overhead light. She looked patient. She always looked patient.
“Nah, baby, I didn’t,” he lied easily, voice smoothing over the tension he refused to show. “What you need?”
Tutor launched into conversation about needing to go to the grocery store, her words tumbling over each other as she listed ingredients for his favorite meal like she’d rehearsed it in her head before coming to him. Her voice was light, hopeful in a way that sat heavy in his chest.
That’s when it hit him.
Here he was, tangled up in ghosts, when the life he was supposed to be building sat right in front of him asking for permission to take the car.
Tutor was a good woman. She cooked without being asked. Kept his house together like it was her job to hold the seams tight. She never questioned the late nights or the men who came and went through his doors. She knew what kind of life he lived and stayed anyway. Tutor held him down without pushing for more than he offered.
Everything he said he wanted from Nyeya. Everything Nyeya refused to give him.
“Come here,” Jey called, patting his thigh.
Tutor didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room and settled into his lap like she belonged there, arms looping loosely around his shoulders. Up close, she was beautiful. Five-six, smooth tawny skin, hazel eyes dusted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her auburn hair, tipped red to match his, brushed his forearm as she adjusted herself comfortably against him.
A trophy, if he was being honest with himself. One he’d shown off proudly for a while.
And for a time, she really had been all he needed.
But something in the air had shifted. He felt it every time Nyeya’s name surfaced, every time he caught whispers of her being back home, every time his boys mentioned running into her like she was just another face in the city.
“Why you looking at me like that?” Tutor asked, brows knitting together as she studied him.
Jey shook his head slowly, pushing the thought back down where it belonged. The truth pressed hard behind his ribs, cold and unavoidable.
Tutor wasn’t her.
“Just admiring you, mamas,” he drawled, forcing a crooked smile. “Take the Benz and do what you need to do. Be careful though.”
Tutor’s face softened instantly. She leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before sliding off his lap and disappearing down the hallway, keys already jingling in her hand. A moment later, the distant rumble of the garage door echoed through the house before fading into silence.
Jey leaned back into the recliner, staring at nothing.
He scrubbed a hand over his face again, exhaling sharp through his nose like he could force the past out of his system if he tried hard enough.
His phone rang before he could sink back into his thoughts.
He grabbed it off the armrest without checking the screen.
“State yo’ business.”
Music blasted through the other end of the line, bass heavy and chaotic, voices overlapping in the background. The caller’s voice cut through it anyway, sharp and excited.
“You ain’t gon’ believe this shit, uce. Meet me at the sweet spot in the North.”
Jey’s eyes narrowed slightly, instinct settling in before curiosity could.
“On my way.”
He ended the call, already moving. He crossed the room, pulling on a shirt and grabbing his keys off the table by the door. The house felt too quiet as he stepped out, the echo of Tutor’s presence still lingering in the air behind him.
By the time he slid into his car and pulled out of the driveway, he didn’t know what waited for him up North.
And nothing in him was prepared for what he was about to see.
05|18|2002
Sugah’s was packed wall to wall by the time I pulled into the lot Saturday night. The neon sign buzzing above the entrance flickered pink against the dark sky and just seeing the line wrapped around the building had me smiling to myself. My first night had been good, really good.
Night two was already looking like it might top it, and I hadn’t even stepped inside yet.
The bass from inside the club pulsed through the pavement as I walked toward the back entrance, duffle bag hanging from my shoulder, nerves humming in that familiar way that let me know Noir was already waking up inside me.
“Hey sexy!”
Tommie’s voice rang out from behind the bar as soon as I stepped onto the floor. The club smelled like perfume, liquor, sweat, and money; a scent I was used to.
Tommie was the main weekend bartender at Sugah’s, and we’d clicked instantly the night before. She had sharp eyes, a sharper mouth, and she’d already put me up on game enough to let me know she was somebody to attach myself to.
I threw her a wink and a wave before heading toward the locker room.
The room buzzed with energy. Women of every shape, shade, and size moved around in different stages of getting ready. Glitter floated through the air like dust under the vanity lights.
One thing about Sugah is that he made sure every man who stepped through them doors had options. He didn’t believe in one type of woman, and judging by the crowd outside, that philosophy worked just fine.
I spoke to whoever spoke to me as I found a spot along the long vanity pressed against the wall.
“You good, baby?”
Miss Deb appeared beside me like she did the night before, her presence steady and calming. She stayed watching over everything from her corner setup that looked like a beauty supply, kitchen, and emergency station all rolled into one.
“I’m good,” I told her, smiling. “But I’m definitely gon’ need some of them wings later.”
She laughed, waving me off like she already planned on it.
I settled into my routine, letting muscle memory take over. Foundation, lashes, gloss. I rubbed some peach scented body butter into my skin until it shimmered under the light, the glitter catching every movement.
Inside one of the stalls, I slipped into my blue two-piece altered mesh top and matching shorts that hugged every curve like they were supposed to be there. Clear pleasers finished the look.
In the mirror, I tilted my head side to side, making sure every strand of hair laid exactly how I wanted before stepping out to work the floor.
The bar was my first stop. It always would be. A drink loosened nerves and gave me a chance to study the room. Tommie already had a shot of Hennessy waiting for me before I even made it halfway down the counter.
“Get your mind right,” she said, sliding it toward me.
I tipped it back slowly, letting the burn settle warm in my chest as my eyes moved across the club. Girls worked every corner, every stage, every pole. On the main stage, a dancer named Beauty commanded the room like she owned it.
She was thick in all the right places, slim waist, full thighs, slanted eyes that looked like they were permanently half-lidded in confidence. I found myself watching her like everybody else was, completely pulled into the way she moved like gravity worked differently for her.
By the time Beauty finished, applause and dollars followed her off stage. I was still watching when a voice pulled me back.
“Mind if I ask for some of your time?”
I turned to find a guy about my age, maybe a little older, already halfway into my space with a confident smile.
“Depends,” I said, arching a brow.
“Andrzej,” he introduced, holding out his hand.
He was fine and put together in a way that hinted at money. From his starched down Ralph Lauren fit, to the low-cut hair that showed off his waves. The Cartier glasses he wore just set everything off.
I let him lead me toward one of the secluded booths. At first, he just talked. I listened, nodding in the right places, waiting for the part where this turned into business. Right when I was about to steer the conversation there, he dropped a thick stack of bills onto the table like a punctuation.
My posture straightened instantly.
Easy money.
Some men came to Sugah’s for fantasy. Some came to feel wanted. Andrzej just needed somebody to listen. He told me he was twenty-two. Only said enough about his life for me to understand he moved in the streets without actually saying it. The more he talked; the more money hit the table like clockwork.
At that point, I was perfectly fine sitting there with him all night.
But Deb popped up beside the booth, tapping my shoulder.
“Sugah want you on stage, baby.”
I glanced at Andrzej, a small pout on my face as I told him I had to leave. He only smiled at me.
“I’ll still be here when you done.”
Luck was definitely on my side tonight. I just hoped none of them heifas in the back tried to poach him while I worked.
Backstage, I switched outfits, refreshed my perfume, and stepped toward the curtain as the DJ queued up my song.
Anywhere by 112 slid through the speakers. Noir came alive.
I stepped onto the stage slowly, hands gliding across my skin as I made my way toward the pole, hips rolling with every beat. The rhythm carried me through spins and dips, the crowd around the stage growing bigger with every move.
By the time I dropped low into my signature crawl toward the edge, the stage was already covered in singles.
Andrzej stood front and center, eyes locked on me like the rest of the room didn’t exist. When the track blended into 112’s Peaches & Cream, I moved closer, body brushing just enough to blur lines without crossing them. His breath caught when I leaned in, then pulled away, dropping onto my stomach and glancing back over my shoulder.
Bills fluttered down around me like confetti.
The smell of money. The sound of it hitting the stage. The feel of it sticking to my skin. That rush never got old.
When the set ended, I winked at the crowd and strutted backstage, pulse still racing.
Sugah waited off to the side of the stage, clapping slowly.
“That’s what I like to see,” he said, nodding with approval. “Keep doing that right there and Sugah gon’ make sure you a star.”
I laughed, soaking up the praise as sweepers handed me bags stuffed with my earnings. After tipping them out, I floated back into the locker room still riding the high.
Deb complimented me. A few other girls chimed in. Beauty walked over last, offering me a grin that felt genuine.
We talked while I wiped down and changed outfits. She’d been dancing at Sugah’s for two years, twenty-six, from a small town east of ours. We found common ground easy, the kind that made time pass quickly. By the time we stepped back onto the floor together, I realized I actually liked her. She seemed to feel the same.
Andrzej was exactly where I left him.
He smiled as I slid beside him, already flagging a waitress over so I could order more Hennessy shots for us. Once the drink landed in my hand, we fell back into conversation like there hadn’t been an interruption at all.
Up close, he was even cuter under the flashing lights, his watch catching reflections every time he moved. He didn’t come off dangerous, but I knew enough to understand what street life looked like when it dressed itself up nice.
The money kept stacking. He waved off other dancers who tried approaching, earning me annoyed looks from across the floor. I wasn’t complaining though. By the time the clock edged toward three in the morning, Andrzej finally stood to leave.
He left with my number and a promise to come back which was exactly what I wanted.
After he disappeared into the crowd, I stretched, exhaustion and adrenaline mixing in my chest. I did one more stage dance before I gathered my things, already planning how Sunday night would go for me.
If this weekend was any indication of how my time at Sugah’s would be I was down to do this every weekend and sometimes during the week.
---
It was pushing five in the morning when I finally stepped out of Sugah’s and headed toward my car. The cool air hit my damp skin and raised goosebumps across my arms and legs. I shifted my duffle bag higher on my shoulder, heels clicking against the pavement while the bass from inside the club faded behind me.
I had already tipped everybody I needed to — the house, Deb, the DJ, and the waitress who kept Andrzej’s drinks coming while he kept stacking money in front of me. I even slid Tommie her cut before leaving the bar. I hadn’t counted my money yet, but I already knew I cleared my goal for the night, even after tipping out.
“Aye, you need me to walk you to your car?”
Gee, one of the bouncers, called out as he held the back door open for another dancer leaving. I threw him a tired smile and adjusted my bag again.
“I’m good, Gee. I ain’t parked too far.”
He nodded, watching until I stepped off the curb before turning back toward the door. By the time I reached my car, my whole body was screaming. I slid into the leather seat and let out a slow breath, relief washing over me almost instantly.
My feet throbbed, my thighs burned from gripping the pole and moving under those hot stage lights, and glitter still dotted my brown skin, catching the faint glow from the parking lot lamps every time I shifted. I leaned my head back against the seat for a moment and just sat there, letting the quiet settle around me.
I wasn’t walking into my mama house at that time of morning, so I would check into a hotel to catch some sleep before heading home. So, I cranked the engine and pulled out of the lot with a different destination in mind.
Waffle House.
I needed an All-Star Special with an extra waffle and a side of crispy hashbrowns. It would hit the spot for me every time.
By the time I pulled into the Waffle House parking lot, the place was jumping. Clubs had just closed, which meant everybody who wasn’t ready to go home yet was crammed inside or hovering around waiting for food. People stood shoulder to shoulder near the counter.
Conversations overlapped. Silverware clanged against plates. Somebody laughed too loud in the corner like they forgot where they were.
I squeezed inside long enough to place my order to go. No way I was trying to sit down in that chaos. The smell of syrup, bacon grease, and coffee hung thick in the air, making my stomach growl louder than it already had.
It didn’t take long before they called my name. I slid through the crowd, grabbed my bag, and made my way back outside. The parking lot felt almost peaceful compared to inside. Just the hum of passing cars and voices muffled through the restaurant windows. I shuffled toward my car, food in hand, already thinking about how good that first bite was about to taste.
I climbed in, setting the bag carefully on the passenger seat, then started the engine and reached to throw the car in reverse. Headlights flashed across my rearview mirror. A black Nissan Altima rolled in behind me and stopped close enough to block me in.
I froze, staring through the mirror.
“Shit… I hope this ain’t nobody from the club,” I muttered to myself.
Usually, I was mindful of my surroundings. Making sure I paid attention to who was coming or going to make sure shit like this didn’t happen. Apparently tonight I got too comfortable.
I sat there for a moment, hoping whoever it was, would realize I was trying to back out and leave. Instead, the driver’s door swung open. I caught a glimpse through my side mirror and rolled my eyes.
Jey.
He had basketball shorts on with a white wife beater. The socks on his feet were adorned with Nike flip flops. And from the look on his face, he was pissed. He stalked toward my driver’s side door like he owned the pavement beneath his feet.
“Get the fuck out the car, Nyeya,” he barked.
I almost laughed. I stared straight ahead, pretending like I didn’t hear him. That lasted all of three seconds before he started beating on my window.
“Get out the car!”
His fist slammed against the glass hard enough to make me jump. He kept hitting it, over and over, like he was trying to shatter it. I quickly unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping out before he actually broke something.
“Nigga, stop beating on my shit like that! The hell is wrong with you?” I yelled.
He stood there breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast, eyes wild like he’d been running or fighting or both.
“Why the fuck you shaking ass at Sugah’s?” he snapped. “That’s what type of shit you on? So, you a hoe a now?”
The word hit me like a splash of cold water. So, I slapped him. My hand cracked across his face before I even thought about the repercussions.
“Don’t you ever in yo’ life call me no hoe again,” I shot back, my chest heaving. “I don’t know what you do with ole girl, but you must’ve forgot I’ve never been the one to play with like that.”
Jey held his cheek, staring at me like he couldn’t decide if he was shocked or hurt.
A few people scattered around the parking lot slowed down, watching like they just got front row seats to something they didn’t understand. I didn’t even care.
“Move that raggedy shit so I can leave,” I snapped, pointing toward his car. “We ain’t got shit else to say to each other unless you want my hands to do the talking.”
He reached for my arm, but I jerked back before he could touch me.
“Ba—”
He stopped himself, jaw tightening before he tried again.
“Nye… look, I ain’t mean to call you that. Aight. I’m just tryna understand why you out here like that. That ain’t meant for women like you.”
I held my hand up, cutting him off. “I’m grown. I can do what I want, when I want. That’s my business. So don’t worry about me, Jey.”
I pointed between us with narrowed eyes. “We… this is over. Stay where you been at for the last two years. Focus on what you got going instead of keeping up with me.”
I saw the hurt flash in his eyes, and it stirred something in my chest, but I shoved it down. Jey and I were over. And it was gonna to stay that way.
Jey rubbed his hands down his face before letting out a short, humorless laugh.
“Aight, Nyeya. You got it. And you right, I do need to stay where I’m at. At least with her, I ain’t gotta put up with bullshit like this. I ain’t gotta deal with the childish ass shit you be on.”
That hit exactly how he meant for it to.
Jey always knew where to aim when he wanted to hurt me, and the worst part was I knew how to do the same to him.
My throat tightened, tears burning behind my eyes, but I blinked them back fast. I refused to let them fall in front of him. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he’d cut me deep.
I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked back toward my car. My legs felt stiff, like they forgot how to move right, but I kept going.
Once I climbed inside, I gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, breathing slow and steady like I was trying to hold myself together with it.
I didn’t know when Jey finally pulled off. I didn’t watch him leave. I just sat there until the sound of his engine disappeared and the space behind me felt empty again.
After that, everything moved like it was on autopilot. I backed out of the parking spot, pulled onto the road, and headed toward the Days Inn without really thinking about it. The bright yellow sign glowed against the early morning dark as I pulled into the lot and parked.
Inside, the lobby smelled like cheap air freshener and stale coffee. The clerk barely looked up as I paid, handed me a keycard, and pointed me toward the stairwell.
The room was quiet and clean. I dropped my bag by the bed and headed straight for the shower. The hot water hit my shoulders, washing glitter and sweat down the drain, but it didn’t wash away the mess in my head.
Thoughts of the past circled like they had nowhere else to go. Being home was harder than I thought it would be. Making peace with everything felt even harder especially when a part of me wasn’t ready to let go of what I was supposed to be making peace with.
When I finally stepped out, my skin warmed from the heat of the water, I wrapped myself in a towel, grabbed my food, and heated it in the microwave.
I ate sitting on the edge of the bed, the room silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and plastic fork scraping against the container.
I didn’t bother counting my money. The duffle bag stayed zipped and untouched on the floor. I was too tired to deal with numbers, thoughts, or anything that required more energy than chewing and swallowing.
By the time I crawled under the covers, sleep pulled me under quick, heavy and dreamless, even though it felt like there was still too much left unsaid sitting on my chest.
05|19|2002
It was sometime around ten when I finally woke up. Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, hitting the wall across from the bed. Checkout was at eleven, so I rolled out of bed and started gathering my things. I was halfway through stuffing my shoes back into my duffle bag when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Why was yo’ ass at the Waffle House fighting with Jey at six in the morning?” Kiyah asked without missing a beat.
I closed my eyes and sucked my teeth. Of course, them nosey ass people at the Waffle House had already spread that around town. I shoved another shoe into my bag, irritation creeping back up from where I buried it the night before.
“He pulled up on me on some bullshit,” I said finally. “You know I wasn’t letting him do me nothing without reacting.”
I didn’t explain how he knew where I was or why he showed up. I had my reasons for keeping that to myself. I wanted to tell my girls about me dancing on my own time, but it was starting to feel like that time might be coming sooner than I planned.
Who knew when or if Jey would run his mouth to Jimmy. And we all knew Jimmy couldn’t hold water.
“That’s wild considering that girl was probably at home thinking he out handling business when the business was him being in yours,” Kiyah said.
Kiyah wasn’t wrong. While Tutor was probably at home thinking Jey was out doing whatever he told her he was doing, he was pulling up on me in parking lots to call me out about how I’m living.
I didn’t know how I felt about that, and honestly, I didn’t have the energy to unpack it.
We kept talking while I grabbed the rest of my stuff and headed toward the front desk. The lobby looked exactly like how I left it; quiet, dim, and smelling like it needed fresh air.
“We need to go out for drinks this week,” Kiyah said. “I think we all can use some girl time.”
“I’m down,” I replied, sliding the keycard across the counter. “Just let me know when.”
“I’ma talk to the twins and call you back later,” she replied.
We said our goodbyes just as I walked out of the lobby and back into the late morning sun. I headed straight home. It was Sunday, so the house was empty like I expected. Mama and Reggie were at church, and it looked like Michael was gone too.
I didn’t mind the quiet. I made myself some breakfast, took another shower, and finally sat down on my bed to count the money from the night before.
Andrzej had been very generous. After tipping everybody out, I still counted nine hundred dollars. I smiled to myself, already thinking about the next time I’d see him. He was looking like a goldmine.
And I wasn’t about to let Jey knowing where I worked mess that up. I had an apartment to furnish, and my taste leaned toward the finer things. That kind of lifestyle cost money, and right then, money was exactly what I planned to focus on.
After sliding the cash into the shoebox I kept tucked in my closet, I stretched out across my bed and turned cartoons on low. The familiar noise filled the room while exhaustion crept back over me. I didn’t even realize when my eyes closed. Sleep just took me again like it was waiting for its turn.
Back at that brick house on Darby Ln...
Photos were scattered across the bed; memories Jey should have packed away years ago but never could bring himself to. One rested between his fingers, the glossy surface slightly bent from how tightly he held it.
It was a picture from Tama’s birthday party. Nyeya sat in his lap laughing while feeding him a piece of cake, frosting smudged at the corner of his mouth.
They both looked younger, lighter, happy in a way that felt almost unfamiliar now. He set that photo down and picked up another. In this one, his tattooed arms were wrapped tightly around her waist as they leaned against the hood of his black BMW.
The summer sun bounced off the paint and caught the gold bracelet around Nyeya’s wrist, making it shine almost as bright as her smile. That bracelet had meant something once. It was supposed to mean forever.
Jey didn’t realize he was crying until a tear slipped down his cheek and landed directly onto the photograph.
The drop blurred Nyeya’s face for a second before he cursed under his breath and wiped it away with the heel of his palm. He had promised himself he was done crying over her. Done crying over them.
But the promises to himself never held weight when the wound never fully closed.
When Nyeya disappeared in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye, Jey cried like a man who had been stripped of something vital.
For a year he waited for her to come back through the door like nothing had happened. For a year he tried to become the man he swore he would be for her. He found a therapist and sat through sessions he barely spoke during. He went to church a few times, sitting in the back pew staring at stained glass windows while pastors preached about forgiveness and redemption.
He told himself he was doing it for her, doing it so when she came back he would be someone worthy of keeping her.
Time turned waiting into bitterness. Each month that passed without her chipped something away from him until grief hardened into anger and anger settled into something colder. She had left him, and that betrayal cut deeper than any street war ever could.
So, he buried himself in the only place that still made sense to him — the streets. He became everything he used to hold back from being when she was around. Ruthless. Reckless. Mercy became a foreign language to him. Bodies dropped for disrespect that once would have earned warnings. The monster he kept chained for Nyeya’s sake finally walked free, and he stopped pretending he cared.
Tutor came along during that darkness.
She didn’t challenge him or ask him to change. She offered quiet instead of chaos. She cooked, cleaned, and stayed loyal in ways that didn’t require effort from him. She became a soft place to land when the world outside demanded blood and steel.
For a while she was enough. More than enough, he convinced himself. But the life he built with Tutor started cracking the moment Nyeya stepped back into the picture like she never left.
And Nyeya didn’t just come back. She came back different. Rougher around the edges. Stronger in ways he wasn’t prepared for. Seeing her at Sugah’s, watching her command that stage, watching strangers throw money and admiration at her feet while she moved like she owned every pair of eyes in the room twisted something deep inside him.
It wasn’t just jealousy. It was disorientation. The version of Nyeya he kept frozen in memory didn’t match the woman standing under those lights, unapologetic and untouchable. The truth he kept trying to outrun stayed close enough to breathe down his neck.
She still had his heart, and he hated that fact almost as much as he needed it to be a lie.
The front door opened downstairs, the sound snapping him back to the present. Jey moved quickly, gathering the photographs into a stack with hands that weren’t quite steady before shoving them back into the shoebox he kept hidden under the bed, sliding it deep enough so it wouldn’t be seen without someone deliberately looking for it.
“Hey, baby,” Tutor called, stepping into the room moments later.
Just as Jey had kicked the box out of sight. Tutor’s eyes softened the moment they landed on his face. She stepped closer, reaching up to cup his cheek gently.
“What’s wrong? You been crying, baby?”
Jey leaned back slightly, easing her hands away with careful fingers. “I’m straight,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Just tired.”
Tutor accepted the answer without pushing, nodding as she smoothed her hands down the front of his shirt like she always did when she was checking on him.
She trusted him enough not to dig deeper, and that trust stabbed him with guilt sharper than any accusation could have.
He watched her move around the room, talking softly about her errands she had taken care of and dinner plans, about the small domestic things that should have grounded him in the life he built with her.
Instead, they made him feel guilty, because the truth he refused to say out loud sat heavy in his chest pressing against every breath he took.
He was tired.
Tired of pretending he didn’t want Nyeya back when wanting her was the only thing that was on his mind these days.
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 3: No Apologiez
05|13|2002
Sugah’s sat on the North side of town, right on the edge of a neighboring county, tucked between a row of warehouses like it was trying not to be seen. During the day, it wasn’t much to look at. Just a plain building, faded sign but I could tell it came alive at night. That was part of the appeal.
I came prepared, duffle bag in hand with an outfit and shoes just in case they were hiring and wanted to see what I could do on the spot.
Inside, the lights were low, casting purple and pink hues across the sections and tables. The carpet was black with glow-in-the-dark stars etched into it, the kind that popped once your eyes adjusted.
A big stage sat in the center of the club, with several smaller stages spaced around it, each with a pole. Toward the back left, a sign marked the VIP rooms. The bar lined one side, plush seating pulled up close like it was meant for lingering. I took a seat at one of the tables still dusted with glitter, the remnants of last night clinging to everything.
It didn’t take long for an older woman around mid-forties to approach me, her eyes sharp but not unkind.
“What can I help you with, baby?”
“I wanted to see if y’all were hiring,” I told her. “I dance.”
She gave me a slow once-over, nodding slightly. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later she returned with an older man, late fifties if I had to guess. He stepped forward and shook my hand. His grip was soft but cold, a detail I noticed immediately.
“They call me Sugah Bear,” he said. “This my place.”
I smiled, turning on the charm without even thinking about it. He complimented my look, then got straight to the point.
“So, what you trying to do?”
“I’m tryna dance,” I responded.
He exchanged a look with the woman who I would come to know as Deb.
“Show me see what you got. You got ID?”
I handed it over, then asked where I could change. Deb motioned for me to follow her. She was the house mom, the one who made sure the dancers were good. We ended up in the back where the locker room glowed purple and silver.
I quickly changed, slipping on my clear six-inch pleasers like muscle memory took over.
Deb leaned in. “Any song you want the DJ to play?”
“Anywhere by 112,” I said without hesitation.
When the opening notes came through the speakers, I stepped out from behind the curtain, hips swaying to the beat. Noir came to life. That name, my middle name, had always felt right on stage. I found it sexy, mysterious, unique.
As the song flowed, I did too, moving with confidence I’d earned over the last year, finding my way to the center of the stage like I belonged there.
My hands traced my skin with intention, every movement controlled. I kept my eyes on Sugah Bear as I dropped low, spread my legs, then crawled toward the edge of the stage before rising and making my way to the pole.
The tricks came easy. From the spins, the holds, to the showing off of the strength I’d built without realizing how much it would change me. When the song ended, I tossed him a wink and walked off like I owned the place.
By the time I got back to the locker room, I was buzzing. Being on stage did something to me, something I never would’ve imagined when I first started. I was getting dressed when Deb came in, smiling.
“You got the gig,” she smiled. “But Sugah wanna talk to you first before you go.”
I did a little shimmy before thanking her and heading back out. Sugah clapped when he saw me.
“Been a minute since I seen somebody work a stage like that,” he complimented, nodding. “You a natural.”
I soaked it up, but his tone shifted quickly. He laid out the rules of the house which involved tipping the house, the house mom, the DJs and sweepers. Bartenders weren’t mandatory, but looking out for them meant they’d look out for you.
When he finished, he asked when I could start.
“As soon as you say the word,” I replied.
He smiled, appreciating the eagerness, then shook his head.
“You gotta get your license first, babydoll. I know a spot that can get you straight same day. You do that, you can start this weekend.”
That was exactly what I wanted to hear. I took the card he handed me and headed straight there. The place was a shabby little office in a strip mall, nothing special, but I shrugged and went in anyway. The process took a little over two hours as I sat around with other women who were there for the same thing.
When I walked back out, license in hand, it felt official. It was official.
The sun was still high in the sky by the time I finished handling my business. I sat in the car outside the licensing place for a while, engine off, hands resting in my lap, staring straight ahead as if the answer to my next move might appear on the windshield.
I wasn’t ready to go back home just yet. I considered riding around, letting the day stretch a little longer before folding back into routine. Until it dawned on me that I could do some shopping.
The job was mines. So, a few new outfits and shoes were necessary. I pulled off, heading toward a store that sold clothes specifically for dancers; a place I’d scoped out not long after coming back home, for future needs.
On the ride over there my head was full of thoughts of who I’d become at Sugah’s. At Desires, I’d been a vixen. So, at Sugah’s, I needed something different. A minx, maybe. Whatever I chose to go with was guaranteed to bring in the money.
Still, I knew better than to confuse the stage with real life. Dancing wasn’t forever. It was a means to an end. The plan was to dance through the summer, then enroll in school in the fall. Once classes started, the club would take a backseat. I’d dance on weekends only.
The fast life had a way of chewing you up and spitting you out if you let it. And I knew better than that.
The store was small, tucked between wholesale shops selling things in bulk for cheap. Inside, gear lined the walls from ceiling to the baseboards; outfits, shoes, accessories, everything a dancer could need.
I bounced through the aisles, eyes wide, pulling pieces that matched the vibe I wanted to give.
The owner was a nice older man, who checked on me every now and then. Between trying on different pleasers and holding outfits up to myself as I looked in the mirror, the vision was becoming quite clear.
Once I settled on the last pair of shoes, I made my way to the counter, bracing myself for the damage I’d done.
My phone rang as the owner rang me up.
“Hello,” I said, balancing the phone while digging through my purse for my wallet.
“What you doing, bonita?”
Damian’s voice came through smooth and familiar, pulling a smile out of me without effort.
“I’m out shopping,” I told him.
I thanked the owner and stepped outside, phone still pressed to my ear, bags in hand.
The conversation shifted to Damian mentioning an upcoming baseball game he was excited about. I wasn’t much of a fan, but I was a fan of him sharing the things he loved with me. I found it sweet in a way.
Sitting in my car, I listened, already feeling like there was a reason for the call beyond small talk.
“I was wondering if you’d wanna watch the game with me,” he admitted finally.
I hummed, thinking it over. My first instinct was to say yes. I wanted to. But I hesitated.
Was I really ready to take it there?
I stalled, asking where we’d be watching it. He told me about a sports bar with big screens, food, and drinks. It would be his treat.
I mulled it over. Free food and drinks were always a plus. However, I needed something to keep it from feeling too intimate. Keep things from going too far.
“Can my girls come?” I asked.
I already knew he wasn’t feeling that. He wanted me to himself. Still, he agreed. We’d meet up at the bar on Wednesday night for the game.
The call ended on a good note, but the feeling that settled in my chest afterward wasn’t excitement. It was anxiety. Normally, I would’ve pushed it down, ignored it like I always did.
But this time, I didn’t. I let myself sit in it as I drove home. This was happening. Shit was getting real. And whether I liked it or not, the only way through it was straight ahead.
The past couldn’t keep sitting in the driver’s seat. I had a life to live.
Back at home, I put my new clothes and shoes away before taking a hot bath. The steam wrapped around me, loosening my muscles, calming my thoughts just enough to still me.
Mama had cooked while I was out, so I ate while talking on the phone with Kiyah and the twins about Wednesday. None of them ever turned down a good time, so it was a date, sort of. Their voices filled the kitchen, laughter bouncing through the line, grounding me in something familiar.
After I hung up and set my plate in the sink, I retreated to my room. I laid across the bed in my robe with the TV on but not really being watched. My mind wandered until a round of knocks pulled me back.
“Come in,” I shouted.
It wasn’t Mama like usual. It was Michael.
I rolled onto my stomach, propping myself up on one elbow as he slinked into the room and shut the door behind him.
“What you need?” I asked, eyeing him.
Michael didn’t answer right away. He moved around my room, picking up my perfume bottles, touching picture frames, before finally parking himself beside my dresser.
I narrowed my eyes, really looking at him.
He was seventeen now, tattoos traveling down his forearms, a mustache sitting on his lip. Not the fourteen-year-old I left behind three years ago. Things had changed but he was still my little brother.
He cleared his throat. “Why you got on that big ass robe?”
I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes. “I know you didn’t come in here just to play with me?”
Michael only smirked, sitting down on the corner of my bed.
“I’m just saying that shit kind of thick around the neck. That’s some shit Granny be wearing.”
I grabbed a pillow and swatted at him, but he dodged it just in time. We both laughed, falling into a comfortable silence afterward. The TV murmured in the background, the moment just there.
I could tell something was on his mind though.
“You might as well say what you gon’ say since you in here,” I prodded.
Michael’s eyes met mine. He shrugged something imaginary off his shoulders before speaking.
“Word is you was at that party Saturday. That true?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I hated how word got around. One thing I didn’t miss about this city was how shit never stayed quiet for long. I let out a small sigh and told him the truth. There was no point in lying to him.
He gave me a look of disapproval. I tried to soften it, telling him it was cool, that there was no drama. It didn’t help.
“So, this what you on? You don’t give a damn about the consequences, huh?”
He sounded frustrated, but worse than that I could hear the hurt in his voice. And that cut me deeper than it should’ve.
I rubbed my temples, trying to find the right words.
“Michael, look, I know what it look like, but I’m not even on that type of time. I went to hang out with my friends. That’s it, that’s all.”
He was already shaking his head.
“Bullshit. You back running with they asses knowing damn well they still in deep with them niggas. One time gon’ turn to two ‘cause they asses ain’t straying too far. And yo’ ass know that.”
He wasn’t wrong. Being around my friends meant being around their men, and everybody knew they problems followed them wherever they went.
The tears started before I realized what was happening.
Michael was on his feet now, eyes glazed over, stiff in the shoulders.
How was I supposed to navigate this? Was I supposed to turn my back on the friends I’d known my whole life?
“I—”
But I was cut off before I could even get the words out.
“Man, I don’t even wanna hear it. You grown, huh? You got it all figured out. But keep fucking with them reckless niggas while they in the middle of a war and you gon’ find yourself the trouble you obviously looking for.”
I flinched when he slammed the door behind him.
Guilt washed over me because I knew the pain that night had caused my family. My mama getting a phone call in the wee hours of the morning telling her I’d been shot twice and things were looking bad.
Michael refusing to leave my side even after I was stable. He had every right to be mad at the situation, scared of the consequences, frustrated that I’d willingly put myself into the line of fire again.
But what was I supposed to do?
The tears kept coming as the truth was making itself known. And I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t.
The days leading up to Wednesday moved slower than normal, like time was dragging its feet on purpose. Michael had barely been home, and when he was, he stayed to himself. No lingering, no conversations, no second glances. Mama noticed but she said nothing probably hoping we’d figure it out.
I told myself I’d fix it soon. Michael could get on my nerves like any sibling could, but his heart was always in the right place. Us being good mattered, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get us back there. I just needed time.
05|15|2002
Wednesday finally came with good news. I’d been approved for my apartment, and my move-in date was only weeks away. That alone made the day feel lighter, like I had something good to look forward to.
By four, I was dressed in a cut-off graphic tee and low-rise blue jeans, with white Converse on my feet. Mama had done my hair the night before; long braids with wavy ends hanging down my back.
I’d kept everything simple on purpose. This wasn’t supposed to feel like a big deal, even if part of me knew it was.
The drive to the sports bar was quiet. Michael’s words crept in anyway. He’d been right about Jey back in ’98, and I hadn’t listened. I refused to let him be right again.
Being around the Prada Bois wasn’t something I planned on doing often, even if that meant whatever was trying to blossom between Damian and I had to die.
I told myself that as I pulled into the parking lot, like saying it out loud might make it stick.
Chico’s sat between a thrift store and a Rent-A-Center, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. Inside was different. A long bar stretched across the room, TVs lining the walls with one big projection screen in the middle blasting sports commentary. The place smelled like fried food and beer, voices layered over each other, pool balls cracking in the back.
I was the last one to arrive. Jacob and Kiyah were already at the bar; wings spread between them. Sami and Natasha were shooting pool, laughing loud enough to turn heads. Jimmy and Nataya sat tucked into their own world, Jimmy nursing a beer while Taya leaned into him like she belonged there.
I didn’t even get a chance to look for Damian.
His warm calloused hands found my waist from behind, warm and sure, pulling me back into him. That warmth registered first before the noise, before the crowd. For a split second, everything narrowed down to just that. Then someone cleared their throat nearby, and the bar rushed back in.
I smiled and slipped out of his hold.
“Hey y’all,” I drawled, moving through the space, hugging my girls, dapping up their significant others.
When Kiyah wrapped me in a hug, she leaned in close. “I mean y’all cute, but bitch be easy.”
I laughed, pinching her side, and for the first time that night, my shoulders loosened.
The tension faded little by little. Shots made their rounds as the game kicked off. Music played low under the commentary. At some point, Jimmy challenged me to Hoop Fever, and once he started losing, he refused to quit. Each loss made him louder.
After the fourth one, it was obvious he wasn’t winning.
“Man, that shit rigged. I would’ve whooped yo’ ass anywhere else,” he argued, while Nataya laughed and held him back.
I waved him off, everyone cracking up because Jimmy had always been a sore loser.
More people filed in as the night went on, the bar filling up fast. It gave me room to breathe. The night was actually going well, better than I expected. A few times, I caught myself comparing the past with the present but would stop myself.
I didn’t want to live there tonight.
Damian stayed close without hovering. He didn’t compete for attention or try to dominate the space. He let me talk, let me laugh, let me exist in the way I chose to. He seemed content just being near me, like that was enough. That stood out more than anything else.
Every now and then, the bar erupted over the game. I didn’t understand half of what was happening, but Damian would lean in to explain, his voice low, his cologne cutting through the air. Each time he did, my knees slightly buckled.
He looked good in his jeans, Yankees jersey, with his pretty hair pulled back into a ponytail the way I always liked it. It gave sexy, grown, comfortable in his skin. I was caught several times watching him from afar.
“So, this been a date the whole damn time?” Natasha asked, sipping her drink.
I sighed, already knowing where this was going. I glanced at Kiyah, Natasha, Nataya, then over at Damian laughing with Jacob.
“I wouldn’t call it that,” I corrected. “But let’s just say it was. Would I be wrong?”
Kiyah didn’t hesitate. “Hell nah. The Boricua came first so technically Jey lame ass was the rebound. Fair game in my opinion.”
I nodded as she did have a point. The one-night stand that happened between Damian and I did take place before I even knew who Jey was. Jey wasn’t a rebound, but he definitely wasn’t on my radar.
“How would that work though? Like they’re best friends so would Jey even go for that?” Nataya wondered aloud.
Inwardly, I frowned because I was already tired of hearing about what Jey thought. My business was my business.
“Girl, ain’t nobody worried about no damn Jey,” Natasha scoffed. “He can’t stop shit if that’s what they wanna do.”
Tasha was right but deep down I felt differently. I knew differently. Still, I let myself wonder just a little if maybe things would be different now. Time tended to change things.
“Aye, nothing might not even come of this,” I noted. “Like whatever this is between Damian and me. We might just be better off as friends.”
“Well, that ain’t no fun,” Kiyah muttered.
I chuckled, letting it go. I wasn’t sure how I felt yet, but I knew I was done letting the past make decisions for me.
Jacob bought another round for us, and by then the liquor had caught up. I was good and tipsy. I drifted over to The Simpsons pinball machine in the corner, dancing a little while I played with quarters pulled from the bottom of my purse.
The game continued on in the background, the bar packed but still roomy where I stood.
“The game boring to you, mami?” Damian asked, sliding up behind me.
His breath brushed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I looked back at him over my shoulder.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say all that.”
He smirked, his chest close to my back. With the crowd around us, no one paid us no mind. Feeling bold, I leaned back into him. He caught me by the waist like it was second nature, chuckling under his breath.
I turned slowly, looking up at him. We didn’t say anything. His hand tightened just slightly at my waist. And honestly, I let myself relax. I allowed myself to get lost in the moment wherever it took us.
And then Damian leaned in; whether to say something or kiss me, I didn’t know. Either way, the butterflies in my stomach made their presence known.
Truthfully, being bad felt good.
“Damian!”
We both looked up.
Jey stood a few feet away, eyes hard, locked on us.
I sucked my teeth loudly and rolled my eyes. It was always something, always him.
My intention wasn’t to push Damian away, but I did as I stepped past him, cutting my eyes at Jey as I walked off.
I practically stomped through the crowd toward the bathroom, my chest tight, my patience gone. The music thumped behind me, laughter spilling through the bar like nothing had happened, like my night hadn’t just flipped on its head.
Inside the bathroom, I leaned over the sink, gripping the porcelain as frustration burned through me.
“Shit! Nye, you okay?” Kiyah’s voice boomed as she came through the door, the twins right behind her.
I lifted my head slowly, our eyes meeting through the mirror. A bitter chuckle slipped out before I could stop it.
“You know for half a second,” I said, shaking my head, “I let myself believe he’d let me be.”
Another short, humorless laugh followed.
“How did he even know where we’d be?” I questioned.
Silence answered me.
All eyes landed on Nataya. She shrank back, shoulders folding in.
“I—”
“Taya,” Natasha cut in sharp, “You telling him was telling Jey. Jimmy can’t hold water with his loud mouth having ass.”
Nataya dropped her gaze to the floor, hands twisting together.
“Nye, I didn’t think he’d say anything,” she rushed. “Him and Jey not even seeing eye to eye right now, so I didn’t think he’d do that. I swear.”
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Jey was there now, and that was enough.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said flatly. “I’ll leave.”
Kiyah grabbed my arm before I could move. She told me I shouldn’t leave early because of him, that I couldn’t keep letting him dictate how I spent my time.
But my mind was already made up.
“I’m out,” I declared. “It’s cool. I’ma go grab my things and talk to y’all later.”
I didn’t wait for them to argue.
I pushed out of the restroom, my pulse loud in my ears. Damian stood on the other side of the door. Our eyes met, and I could tell he was just as upset as I was, jaw tight, shoulders stiff like he was holding himself back.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered, handing me my purse.
I lifted my hand, resting it lightly against his chest.
“Nah, I’m good,” I began. “I got it. I’m parked right out front. Enjoy the rest of the game. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”
He nodded, but I could tell he wanted to persist. Before he could, I rose onto my toes and kissed his cheek.
“Tell the guys bye for me, y’all,” I added, looking back at my friends.
They only nodded in agreement. I made my way through the crowd, irritation buzzing under my skin.
Outside, the warm night air hit me in the face, snapping everything into focus. All I wanted was to get home.
But that’s when I saw him. Jey leaned against my car like he owned it.
My eyes narrowed.
“Can you get off my shit?” I snapped.
He didn’t move.
I folded my arms across my chest. For a second, I thought about throwing my purse or my keys at him, but what would that solve? He was standing there for a reason.
He just looked at me. Like he was studying me. Like he was trying to figure me out. Something about that pissed me off.
“Look,” I started, stepping closer, “Just move out my way, okay?”
He shifted to the side, finally giving me space. I side-eyed him as I reached for my door to unlock it, and that’s when I realized he wasn’t being a gentleman at all.
When I tried to open it, he held it shut.
“I don’t know what type of shit you on, Nyeya,” he spat. “But you better get ya mind right before I do it for you.”
I cocked my head, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
“Jey, get out my face before you really piss me off,” I sneered.
He had to be crazy if he thought he still had that kind of control over me. I yanked at the door again. He didn’t let it open.
He leaned in close instead, his voice dropping even lower.
“This my city. I run this shit. Yo' ass left and must’ve forgot who the fuck I am, but I’m here to remind yo’ little ass.”
His hand left the door and closed around my arm. His grip firm enough to make wince.
“Dead that shit with Damian,” he demanded. “’Cause if you don’t, we gon’ have problems, girl.”
I jerked my arm away, staring at him with my face twisted in disbelief.
He gave me one last look before turning and walking off.
I didn’t hesitate as I jumped into my car and locked the doors, hands shaking so badly I almost missed the button. I sucked in a breath, then another, my chest rising too fast.
The truth sat heavy and undeniable. Jey wasn’t letting me go peacefully.
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 2: Pick Up Your Feelings
05|10|2002
Friday came whether I felt ready for it or not. I wasn’t sure at that point. Still, I had a standing appointment to look at an apartment in a newer complex, and backing out felt like letting fear win. I got ready with the local R&B station playing low in the background. It helped keep the mood light when shit felt heavy.
Truth was that my whole world felt upside down. Seeing Jey cracked something open that I was sure I’d buried years ago. I thought I was prepared to face whatever came with coming home, but maybe I wasn’t. And that realization didn’t sit right with me at all.
There was a knock at my door, followed by my mama’s voice. “You ready, pooh? I’ll be in the living room waiting for you.”
“I’m almost done,” I called back, forcing brightness into my tone.
Mama was riding with me to see the place. I’d never minded spending time with her, but I already knew she was the type to see straight through me and whatever walls I tried to put up.
I gave myself one last look in the mirror before grabbing my purse and heading out. The car ride over was quiet, just a few scattered words exchanged between us, the kind that didn’t fill the silence so much as sit inside it.
The complex was beautiful. We both said it at the same time. It was new, clean, far enough from the projects that I could breathe easier, but close enough to everyone I still wanted in my life.
A lady named Denise met us out front, warm smile, and a familiar face. She was a friend of Mama’s and worked as the leasing agent. She led us to a two-bedroom, two-bath unit similar to the one I’d be renting.
“Oh wow, this shit is nice,” I said as soon as I stepped inside.
And it really was. Plush grey carpet under my feet, a kitchen with a bar area that felt grown, a spacious living room that already felt like it could hold memories. The bedrooms were big, the bathrooms even bigger. I could see myself there.
Denise excused herself, leaving us alone while she went back to the office to grab brochures and more details about the leasing process.
I leaned against the kitchen bar, letting my eyes wander.
“You don’t seem as happy as I thought you would be,” Mama said gently.
I sighed. She always knew. Standing there, surrounded by something new and promising, I decided not to lie. Maybe she could offer some wisdom I didn’t have for myself.
“I knew coming home was gonna be hard in some ways,” I started. “Like, I knew I’d probably have to face the music one day.”
She moved closer, her hand warm on my back, steadying.
“Ma… I saw Jey the other night,” I admitted. “And for some reason, it’s fucking with me.”
The tears came quicker than I wanted them to. I was tired of crying, especially over something I felt like I should’ve been passed by now.
“Closure,” Mama said softly. “You didn’t get the closure you needed to heal properly. So that wound is still bleeding, baby.”
I folded into her arms, letting it go. She was right. I just didn’t know how to fix it. I asked her that, my voice small against her chest.
“You tend to the wound,” she said simply. “That’s how it heals. You make peace with the past so it can stop hurting you.”
By the time Denise came back, my tears were dried. The three of us talked through the details, laughed a little, and moved through the apartment again like it already belonged to me.
“I’ll take it, Ms. Denise,” I said. “I love it.”
It was settled. I went back to the office to fill out paperwork. Denise worked with me, willing to help me get approved despite my occupation. Having enough money saved to cover the deposit and a year’s worth of rent didn’t hurt either. That part made things easier.
After everything was handled, Mama and I went to lunch. We talked about small things, normal things, but one sentence she said stayed with me long after we made it back home.
“Letting go is hard, baby,” she told me, squeezing my hand. “But being free is beautiful.”
And I wanted that. Even if I didn’t know yet what it would cost.
05|11|2002
My eyes popped open to the sound of my phone ringing. I didn’t rush to answer it. I lay there staring at the ceiling until it stopped, then started again. I sighed and picked it up, barely getting a word out before Kiyah’s voice took over.
“I know you not still sleep, cow. The day almost over with.”
I could hear Natasha in the background agreeing enthusiastically. That alone told me something was off. I groaned, rolling onto my side and pulling the comforter tighter around me.
“My beauty sleep is important,” I said. “I have no intention of leaving this bed.”
“Girl, get up,” Kiyah snapped. “Get dressed.”
Before I could argue, she cut me off.
“Meet us at China Garden, hoe. And don’t take all day.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone for a second, already knowing I’d lost. I knew they were up to something, but there was no turning down China Garden. Best Chinese food in the city. That alone was reason enough.
I dragged myself out of bed, singing along softly to Brandy’s Almost Doesn’t Count as I moved around my room, the music filling the space.
“Maybe you’ll be sorry, and maybe you’ll be cold…Maybe you’ll come runnin’ back, babe…
From the cruel, cruel world…”
I caught my reflection in the mirror, singing like the song was meant just for me. I pulled my hair into a low bun with a swoop bang, did light makeup, and finished it off with clear gloss. A baby pink maxi dress and matching sandals felt right for the day; soft, easy, light.
I was out the house and on the way to China Garden in no time. The girls were already seated when I pulled up.
“Damn, it took you long enough,” Kiyah teased as I slid into the booth.
I rolled my eyes, settling in. Natasha and Nataya sat next to each other, their faces mirroring one another the way twins always did. The conversation flowed like it always did.
Natasha talked about enrolling in beauty school in the fall, how Sami was footing the bill. Nataya barely spoke, too busy stuffing her face. Kiyah ranted about an argument she’d had with Jacob the night before.
I listened more than I talked, holding onto something I knew I needed to say.
“So, tell us about the apartment, Nye,” Nataya said, smiling. “Does it have a big kitchen so you can cook for us?”
“Damn, big mama,” Kiyah sucked her teeth. “How you eating and still thinking about food?”
Everyone laughed, including Nataya.
“Y’all know how I get down,” she said, unbothered.
I told them about the apartment; the space, the kitchen, the feel of it. We ate, laughed, joked. It felt like the old days, only now we were grown, carrying different kinds of weight.
“So that party start at nine,” Natasha said casually, eyeing me. “It’s three-thirty, which mean you still got time to decide if you gon’ go, Miss Thang.”
My brows knitted. There it was. The real reason they’d dragged me out of the house. I didn’t know why they kept pushing it, but more than that, it gave me the opening I needed.
“Look,” I said slowly. “I saw Jey… and I’m assuming Tutor… the other night.”
The table went still.
“And if I’m being honest,” I continued, “that shit knocked me off my square. Like I had a whole life up there. I dated. I found myself again; the version of me I actually recognize. But seeing him like that? It got under my skin. I just can’t right now. I ain’t ready.”
Saying it out loud lifted something off my chest. I could breathe again. These were my girls, and it felt good to express what I was going through. I knew they’d understand even if they didn’t agree.
Nataya reached across the table and grabbed my hand. Natasha’s eyes glistened. Kiyah leaned in close. It felt like a deleted scene from Waiting to Exhale.
“I get it, Nye,” Kiyah said softly. “That shit was gon' be hard either way. Yeah, you moved on, but I get why it still feel fresh when it’s in your face.”
She lifted my chin gently, forcing me to look at her. My brown eyes met her hazel ones.
“But we need you to remember who you are. You came home to live, not hide. And we not gon’ let you hide. This your city too. The best way to move on is to move forward, babe.”
Her words hit deep. I nodded, letting them settle.
“I agree,” Natasha added. “We not letting you go out like that. He doing him so you do you. Don’t let whatever y’all had keep you in a place you’ve outgrown.”
Kiyah and Nataya nodded along. I took it all in.
How long was I planning on running? Ducking? Dodging from something that already knew where to find me?
By the time we went our separate ways, I had my answer.
Nyeya Noir Green was done running.
The orange velour mini skirt sat low on my waist, clinging to my curves and making them look more dangerous than usual. The matching jacket stopped right above my belly button, just enough to show a sliver of brown shimmering skin and the diamond Playboy bunny piercing that gleamed when the light hit it just right.
I checked myself in the mirror one more time, making sure my makeup was flawless and my hair fell exactly where it was supposed to.
India Arie’s Video played through the stereo, and the song made the moment feel intentional, like I was choosing myself on purpose. I sang along softly as I finished getting dressed, feeling every word.
Club Paradise was the destination. I slid into my car, the dashboard lighting up as the engine turned over. It was ten o’clock. I’d be there by ten-thirty at the latest; fashionably late of course.
Funny thing was, this was usually the hour I’d be heading into the club to dance, not just to party. The club was fairly new, tucked away from the main road but nice according to Reggie, who said he was cordial with the owners. That alone made me feel a little safer, like I wasn’t walking in there blind.
My stilettos clicked against the concrete as I crossed the parking lot. It felt like the whole city had shown up to celebrate Tonga, because I had to park farther away than I should've. Bouncers stood heavy at the door, and I wasn’t expecting that, but they waved me through with nothing more than a quick pass of the metal detector.
Inside, the club was already jumping. Strobe lights flashed through smoke, bodies packed the dance floor, and Chingy’s Right Thurr blasted through the speakers. My body responded before my mind could catch up. My hips moved naturally, like muscle memory had been waiting on this moment.
I didn’t even worry about finding my girls. I just wanted to dance. In the crowd, I popped, dropped, and rolled my hips like it was nothing because it wasn’t.
Up North, I worked at a club called Desires. On the stage, I went by Noir. I’d been one of the most requested dancers up in there, the one they asked for by name, the one who made people stop and watch and come up off major money.
What I was giving at the moment was light work but the crowd opened around me as the DJ mixed tracks, and when Fat Joe and Ashanti’s What’s Luv? came on, the energy shifted. People hyped me up as I did what I did best, using what God gave me to mesmerize and entice without saying a word.
“You better drop it, bitch!”
I knew that voice from anywhere. Kiyah slid right into the circle with me, dropping it low and matching my energy in low rise jeans and bandeau top. We sang along, bodies whining, laughing, vibing with no cares in the world at least for the moment. Natasha joined soon after, and for a while we were just in it, together, letting the music carry us.
By the fifth song, sweat was starting to form on my forehead, which meant it was time to cool off. We moved off the dance floor toward the bar, breathless and glowing.
“Can I get a Henny pineapple?” I asked the bartender, fanning myself while my girls ordered their drinks.
“Damn, mamas! You came back acting up. I missed you so much.”
Bronson’s wife pulled me into her arms, and I hugged her back tight. I loved her. She’d always been kind, genuine, even sent love through my girls to me over the years just to remind me I was missed.
“I love you more,” I whispered in her ear.
The drinks came, and we lifted our cups—Nataya included with her Coke.
“To a summer we’ll never forget,” Natasha said.
Plastic cups clinked, drinks tossed back.
Kiyah leaned in close. “I’m so glad you came, heifa. It feel good, don’t it?”
All I could do was smile. It did feel good. Standing at the bar gave me time to cool off and take everything in. It also gave everybody a chance to speak: Jimmy, Sami, Jacob, Tama, Tonga the birthday boy, Bronson. Hugs. Welcome-backs. Smiles that made me feel seen. I hadn’t planned on being around them like this, but I couldn’t deny it; the Prada Bois knew how to party.
After a few more drinks, I was ready for the floor again. And when Eve’s Who’s That Girl came on, I knew it was time to drop it low one more time.
Because for the first time since coming home, I wasn’t hiding.
I was living.
The birthday boy joined me on the dance floor, laughing as I danced circles around him. Tonga wore the biggest, cheesiest grin, trying his best to keep up, arms flailing, energy high. The vibe was right, the music loud, and for that moment, I was in paradise. My body felt loose, unburdened, like it remembered how to exist without fear.
After a few more songs, I found myself at a table sipping my drink, grateful for the break. The crowd had thinned some, giving me room to really see what was happening around me.
Sami and Natasha were slow dancing to Keith Sweat, bodies close, foreheads nearly touching. Jacob stood at the bar with Kiyah; his arm draped comfortably around her neck while she laughed at something he said. At another table, Jimmy sat watching Taya sway her hips in front of him, his eyes full of pure adoration. It was love in all its different forms, no matter the seen and unseen cracks.
“I heard you been getting more attention than the birthday boy, princesa?”
Damian’s voice came from behind me, deep and smooth. I smiled before I even turned around. The drinks had taken the edge off, leaving me less shy, a little bolder.
“What can I say?” I replied, my tone playful. “A girl likes to have a good time.”
He hovered close, his aftershave filling my senses, and for once, I didn’t check myself. I didn’t remind myself where I was or who might be watching. I let the moment be mine. Damian eventually slid into the chair next to me, pulling it close enough that his knees brushed mine. I didn’t move away.
We talked about nothing important; him telling me about baseball season, me telling him about the apartment I’d just secured. Just light conversation, nothing heavy.
It felt like old times, before Jey entered the picture and complicated everything. Damian had always been different. He liked rock music and mosh pits, baseball games and shooting pool. He was calm, steady, welcoming, even knowing the things I knew about him. Even knowing there was blood on his hands.
“The fuck going on over here?” Kiyah called out, laughing. “You just can’t hem her up like that, Boricua.”
They went back and forth, trading jokes and jabs until my cheeks hurt from laughing. When they finally called a truce, I excused myself from the table.
My destination was the bathroom where I handled my business, checked my makeup, reapplied lip gloss, and took a breath before heading back out. People were still dancing, eating cake, talking loudly, and the party refusing to die.
When I got back to the table, Damian was gone. Kiyah stood with Natasha nearby, talking. There was no clock in sight, but it had to be close to two. My feet ached, and the idea of a hot bath sounded better than anything else. I decided to make my rounds and head out.
That’s when I saw them.
I approached Nataya and Jimmy’s table and realized they weren’t alone anymore. Jey sat there, wide-eyed, with Tutor smiling comfortably in his lap. The sight knocked the breath from my lungs. Judging by the way Jimmy and Taya looked back and forth between us, they were just as uncomfortable.
Nataya jumped up immediately, pulling me into a hug, whispering close to my ear. “We didn’t know where you went to tell you.”
I heard the concern in her voice, and it made me feel fragile when I didn’t want to be.
“It’s okay,” I whispered back. “I’m about to leave anyway.”
We hugged again, and she released me slowly. Jey was still watching me, a slight frown pulling at his face. I noticed it, even if no one else did.
“I just came to say bye, y’all,” I said evenly. “I’m out.”
Jimmy dapped me up. The other couple stayed quiet. As I turned to leave, a familiar voice stopped me.
“Oh, I knew you looked familiar,” Tutor said brightly. “I saw you at Eckerd’s one night.”
I raised a brow, offered a small smile, and nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Tutor smiled wider, almost beaming, while Jey sat there silently, studying me.
“You need me to walk you to your car, Nyeya?”
Damian’s voice again. His hand settled at the small of my bare back. Instinctively, I glanced at Jey. He didn’t look pleased at all but there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.
“Yea,” I said, turning fully toward Damian.
After a quick peck on Taya’s cheek, I let Damian lead me outside. The warm breeze hit my skin, and I relaxed. I was proud of myself. I handled it better than I expected. I handled it like a grown woman. And that mattered.
He leaned against my car once we reached it. “So… you mind if I get your number?”
I smiled and rattled it off without thinking about consequences. They didn’t apply to me anymore.
“Goodnight, Damian,” I said, stepping in close for a hug.
He pulled me close, tighter than before, and when his hand brushed over the scar on my side, his grip tightened even more. No words were needed. We both knew what that wound meant. He kissed my forehead before opening my car door for me, that familiarity paired with public affection sending butterflies through my stomach.
As I sat there, watching him for just a moment longer, a thought crossed my mind, uninvited but honest.
Perhaps he was the better choice.
And maybe now was the time to find out.
Omnipresent
Damian stood in the same spot long after Nyeya pulled off, his eyes following her car until the red glow of her taillights disappeared into the night.
Quiet as it was kept, when word reached him that she had come back home, he’d hoped for this exact moment. A second chance. An opening to do things differently. To finally step up for the woman he’d always believed was the one that got away.
Consequences had crossed his mind, sure but not enough to stop him this time.
He lingered a beat longer, then turned back toward the building. The party still pulsed inside, bass thumping through the walls, but his attention was caught by a figure leaning against the side of the club.
Jey stood there alone, a bottle of Heineken dangling from his hand, a blunt tucked behind his ear. His eyes weren’t on Damian. They were fixed on the ground. Still, Damian knew exactly what this was about.
So, he stopped. Hand resting lightly on the door handle, Damian broke the silence.
“You good, uce?”
Jey turned his head just enough to acknowledge him, but nothing more.
“Always, uce.”
The pause that followed said otherwise.
“There’s a whole lot of shit you could be doing,” Jey said finally, his voice calm but edged. “But that’s what you chose to do.”
Damian smirked, unfazed.
“There’s a whole lot of shit you could be doing too,” he replied. “But watching me is what you chose to do.”
Jey lifted his head then, eyes locking with Damian’s. Years of history passed between them in that quiet stare—loyalty tested, lines respected, things left unsaid. Crossing lines was rare between them. But something had shifted. Someone was ready to cross.
And it wasn’t Jey.
Before anything could ignite, the door creaked open.
“B-baby?” Tutor’s voice slipped out as she stepped halfway outside. “Oh… my bad. I was just checking on you.”
Her eyes bounced between the two men, sensing something she didn’t have the words for. Damian didn’t move.
“You good, uce?” he asked again.
Jey took a slow sip of his beer, his gaze flicking briefly to Tutor before settling back on Damian.
“Always, uce.”
It was a truce. Quiet. Temporary. The kind you buried for the moment, knowing full well you’d dig up the bones later.
And somewhere down the road, things were going to come to blows.
Back in ’98, Nyeya Noir Green learned that her Prada priced dreams came at a huge cost. At a cost so high she couldn’t take the risk of staying in the city any longer. In the middle of the night, she fled and found a safe place to get her life back on track.
Things were good. Nyeya was even able to afford her own Prada by way of dancing. Like Cher said, she was the rich man.
But home still had her heart. And when her mother marries her long-time boyfriend, it provides the opportunity to come home… for good.
However, her quiet homecoming isn’t the new beginning she was hoping for. The streets still aren’t safe. The people she knew had changed. And the wounds she thought healed, bust wide open.
Now 21, Nyeya feels grown and in control. She returns thinking she can keep her distance, but she quickly realizes it’s impossible to outrun the past especially when it still holds a piece of her heart.
Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya Noir Green (OC)
Author's Note: This story is happening in alternative universe. It features the former members of the Bloodline and the new members of MFT. The characters are themselves but some things are switched around for the story's sake. If you haven't read Prada You, click here to read.
Warnings: May contain strong/harsh language.
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Chapter 1: Triggered
05|04|2002
Saturday's used to sound like cards slapping plastic tables and somebody accusing somebody else of cheating. That’s how I knew I was really home.
The garage smelled like gasoline, cigarette smoke, and a Bernice’s manly cologne. A single light hung overhead, throwing light just bright enough to see the cards in our hands. Michael sat across from me, hunched forward like the game personally offended him. Granny and Bernice sat across from each other. Bernice leaning slightly forward with a cigarette behind her ear and Granny leaning back, looking down at her cards.
“I really think y’all cheating,” Michael yelled across the card table.
I dropped my head, biting my lip to hide the smirk tugging at my lips. I felt like they were cheating too. Granny and Bernice were always partners, and every time they teamed up, somebody accused them of it. But proving it was another story.
“Just say you tired of losing, boy,” Bernice rasped, flicking a card onto the table. “We ain’t gotta cheat. Ain’t that right, G?”
Granny didn’t even look at Michael. She just grinned and nodded, gold fronts flashing as she leaned back in her chair. “Mmhmm.”
Michael’s jaw tightened. Granny and Bernice high-fived, slow and deliberate, like they knew exactly what they were doing. Granny kept talking trash while Michael sat there stewing, and I just shook my head, amused. Being home felt good. I had missed this, missed them, something bad.
Bernice slapped down the last card, sealing the fate of the game. They won. Again.
Michael didn’t say a word. He tossed his cards onto the table and scooted his chair back hard enough for it to scrape against the concrete. He stormed into the house, shoulders tight, pride bruised.
“That’s right, you ole sour puss,” Granny called after him, animated and loud. “You was talkin’ all that shit just to lose.”
I stayed at the table a little longer, genuinely tickled. My chest felt light in a way it hadn’t in a long time.
“Glad to have you back, baby,” Granny said, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. Her grip was warm and familiar. “We missed you real bad 'round here.”
I smiled and let out a short breath before telling her I missed them too. I hadn’t told them about me crying a month straight at Aunt Darlene’s after I left. It really didn’t seem necessary to do so now. I was home for good, so the past was the past.
“You know Aunt Darlene can burn in the kitchen,” I said, “but she ain’t better than you.”
Granny smiled wider, gold fronts catching the light. “You ain’t gotta tell me. I know. Darlene always thought she was some great cook, but she been up North too long. She done lost her way. She cooked some fish one time she came down here and that shit damn near killed us, didn’t it, Bernice?”
Bernice nodded without hesitation. “Shit was so salty I felt my blood pressure go up.”
I cackled. The kind of laugh that comes from deep in your belly, the kind that leaves you breathless.
We stayed there a while longer, taking shots at Aunt Darlene’s cooking until the sky darkened and the night settled in. Eventually, they headed out. Michael had already taken off to his girlfriend’s house, leaving just me, Mama, and Reggie at home.
We sat in the living room with the lights low, some movie playing on HBO that I hadn’t seen before. I was stretched out on the loveseat while Mama and Reggie sat together on the sofa. Our usual on most nights as Michael preferred to spend more time with his girlfriend and friends.
I had been home three weeks after being gone three years. Mama and Reggie had gotten married—that was the official reason I came back.
“I’m craving something sweet,” Reggie said suddenly. “What’s in there to snack on, Toy?”
“Nothing,” Mama replied without missing a beat. “You know sweets don’t last in here with the both of them home.”
She cut her eyes at me.
My hand flew to my chest. “Now wait—how I get in it?”
They both laughed. Mama started listing off everything she’d bought that mysteriously disappeared. Cookies. Ice cream. Candy. I sat there, offended.
“You keeping inventory now?” I asked.
“You force me to,” she said, still smiling.
“You know what,” I said, pushing myself up dramatically, “let me leave ‘cause ain’t no way y’all doing me like this.”
Mama waved me off.
“How about this? I drive up to Sonic and get us some shakes. On me,” I offered.
They agreed quickly, but I noticed Mama tense at the thought of me leaving. She did that every time. I kissed her forehead as I walked past toward my room. It was the only thing I could do to reassure her I’d walk back through that door. Words just didn’t hold the same weight as they once did though.
In my room, I changed into some outdoor clothes—blue jean shorts, a white tank top, and white Converse. I left my hair in the leaning top bun it was already in. I wasn’t trying to impress nobody.
I grabbed my purse, ran through Mama and Reggie’s orders one more time, and headed out.
The crickets were loud now, filling the dark. I unlocked my car and slid inside. Getting into my car always felt good. A baby blue BMW M3, paid for in cash. The dash lit up, the radio already playing something I could sing along to.
The ride to Sonic was short as there was only one in the city. I pulled in, ordered, and waited. While I sat there, I texted Kiyah back, caught up in whatever nonsense she was saying. I didn’t see the carhop until he knocked on my window.
I jumped.
Rolling it down, I laughed when the male carhop apologized, hands up. “No, it’s okay,” I said. “That’s my fault for not paying attention. How much I owe you, sir?”
He smiled, then dropped a bomb.
“Your order already been paid for, ma'am"
My smile faded. “Um… do you know who did that?”
He pointed four stalls down. A black Escalade.
My heart started pounding. The windows were tinted dark. I couldn’t see who was inside. Before I could process it, he was handing me one of the shakes. I wanted to tell him to keep them. To cancel the whole thing and pull off. But I took them anyway. Once the last shake was secure, I thanked him and told him to thank the driver for me.
He nodded and walked off.
Curiosity tried to grab hold of me, but I put the car in reverse and left. I checked my rearview mirror more than once, half-expecting the Escalade to follow.
It didn’t. But something else went wrong. The gas light popped on.
“I know you fucking lying,” I muttered.
I wouldn’t make it home. Mama and Reggie didn’t live in the projects no more. I still had miles to go. The choice was made for me.
I pulled into the nearest gas station.
My nerves were already shot by the time I climbed out of the car. The gas station was bright and loud in that artificial way. A few people lingered inside and outside but none I recognized which I was thankful for. I moved fast, paid for the gas, and headed straight back out; keys already threaded between my fingers out of habit.
I had never considered myself lucky, and moments like this were always proof. The black Escalade was parked directly behind my car.
I silently cussed myself out. I really needed to do better about keeping my tank full.
For three weeks, I hadn’t really run into anybody I didn’t care to see. Not one uncomfortable moment, not one reminder. And now here I was, heart kicking up in my chest, because depending on who was behind those tinted windows, this could go left real quick.
The lights of the gas station were bright, but the windows were still too dark. I couldn’t even make out a silhouette. I slinked back to my car, trying hard not to look while absolutely looking.
The pump had just started when the Escalade’s door opened. All I saw at first were the Jordans out the corner of my eye. That didn’t help me with identifying who it was. Everybody wore Jordans.
“You could’ve thanked me yourself, you know,” a deep voice called out.
I exhaled before I even realized I’d been holding my breath. Damian.
A smile spread across my face without my permission as I lifted my eyes to him. He stood there by the open door, relaxed, watching me like time hadn’t passed at all. Except it had. And somehow, he still looked the same; still looked good.
“My bad,” I said finally, biting my bottom lip. “If I could’ve seen who was in the car, I would’ve thanked you.”
He closed the door and walked closer, unhurried. His eyes traveled from the top of my head down to my feet, slow enough that I suddenly felt shy under his gaze. The closer he got, the more his cologne settled around me. Kenneth Cole. A scent that was familiar in a way that made my stomach flip.
The pump clicked as he reached the back of my car. I went to grab the nozzle, but he was faster, easing it out of my hand like it belonged to him.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling despite myself. “For that. And the shakes.”
He waved it off; eyes still locked on me. Up close, he looked even better.
“Time away did you good, Nyeya,” he said.
I kept my response cool, casual, but inside I was bugging. We talked about easy things, you know. Nothing important, nothing heavy as he leaned against my car like he had nowhere else to be. Under his attention, I felt something click. And acknowledgment of something I’d buried.
“I should get home,” I said eventually. “You know… the shakes before they melt completely.”
He nodded, still studying me like he was committing details to memory. And before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and reached for a hug. He hadn’t done anything wrong. What was the harm?
It hit me the second his body met mine. His body was warm and solid. I damn near melted into him as his arms pulled me in. Now the hug lasted longer than it should have. I was the one who pulled back, clearing my throat, grounding myself.
“Don’t be a stranger, mami,” he said quietly. “I’m here if you need me.”
I gave him a small smile and slid back into my car. My palms were sweaty as I sat there for a second longer than necessary, staring straight ahead.
“You too grown to be acting like this,” I muttered to myself. “Get yourself together, homegirl.”
Then I pulled off.
Once I got back home, I didn’t stay in the living room to sip on my shake with Mama and Reggie. I grabbed mine, gave them a quick goodnight, and went straight to my room. The room they made sure the new house had, just in case I ever came home.
Just knowing they thought of me in the process of buying a home made me appreciate them more. They never forgot me, not once, and that kind of love felt good to have access to.
Mama had made sure to bring everything I left behind. My whole childhood was packed into boxes stacked neatly in the closet, still unopened. I turned on the stereo sitting on top of my dresser, kicked off my shoes, and pulled the first box down. Music filled the room softly as I started going through it.
Inside one box I found photo albums, old diaries, stuffed teddy bears with worn fur and stitched smiles. It was when I reached in to grab another bear that something shiny flew out with it, clinking softly against the floor.
My breath caught. I didn’t rush to pick it up. I just stared at the gold bracelet.
The one Jey gave me. Gold, heavy, etched with words I knew by heart. Belongs to a Prada Boi.
Memories hit all at once, hard and unforgiving. I was just a baby when I accepted that bracelet from him. Too young to understand what it really meant, too naive to question it.
Tears pressed at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill, but my phone rang. I blinked hard, shoved the emotion down, and grabbed it off the bed.
Kiyah didn’t even let me finish saying hello.
“Girl, do I have some news for yo’ ass. Wait—what’s wrong? Why you sound like that, Nye?”
“I saw Damian tonight,” I said, giving her the partial truth.
I heard her sigh on the other end.
“You okay? What he say?”
“Just asked me how I was. Told me time away looked good on me.”
It was true. Damian handled me carefully, like he knew I was still fragile after all this time.
“I can at least vouch for him by saying he did ask about you while you were away,” Kiyah said. “He seemed really tore up after you left. I’m starting to think you chose the wrong Prada Boi, Nye.”
I gasped. “Did you just say that?”
“You heard me,” she replied, blunt as ever. “Damian always been genuine when it came to you. Killing that dude who knocked you to the ground that night. Warning you about that party. He ain’t never hid his hands where you was concerned. I know y’all had that one night stand before you and Jey made it official, but maybe you should’ve given him a real shot. That’s all I’m saying.”
I let her words sit. I couldn’t deny there was a time when I felt the same way. But that time had passed. I deserved better than what the past had to offer.
“That’s the past,” I said quietly. “It’s too late now.”
Then I shifted the conversation. “Enough about all that. What you call to tell me?”
She launched into gossip like she always did, rambling about who was beefing with who, who got locked up, who was sleeping with who. Toward the end, her voice dropped just slightly.
“So, you know Tonga having a party next Saturday. You should come.”
I was already shaking my head. “Nah. I’m good. I’m not doing nothing even remotely Prada Boi adjacent.”
“Nye, everybody still fuck with you,” she pressed. “And his ass won’t even be there ‘cause that lima bean head ass girl he with don’t fool with us like that.”
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. Even Kiyah went quiet.
“Damn,” she said finally. “The twins gon’ be mad at me, but I guess it’s better you know now than later.”
I almost told her to stop. Almost. But I didn’t.
“Jey been fucking with this chick named Tutor for the last two years,” Kiyah went on. “Playing house with her and shit. None of us really mess with her like that, but she let him do whatever, whenever so he keep her around.”
My mind drifted somewhere between Kiyah calling Tutor a pushover and the realization that he was with her because she allowed him to be exactly who he was without much fuss.
The bracelet caught my eye again.
Without thinking, I picked it up, tracing the words with my thumb. Belongs to a Prada Boi.
“Kiyah, it’s fine,” I cut in. “I’m glad he got somebody. That means he’ll let me move on in peace. It’s whatever.”
“You sure? That’s why we ain’t mention it sooner. We didn’t want to lay that on you.”
“I’m sure,” I said, even as something ached in my chest that I refused to name.
We hung up after promising to link up during the week, maybe do some shopping at the mall. When the call ended, the room felt quiet again.
The bracelet was still in my hand.
“Now everybody know who you belong to.”
Jey’s voice echoed in my head like he’d just said it.
I shook my head. “Better her than me,” I murmured. “I ain’t carrying that weight.”
I dropped the bracelet back into the box, pushed it down beneath everything else, and closed the lid. Wherever it landed, it could stay there.
05|08|2002
By Wednesday, the heat had settled in heavy, clinging to everything, and with it came another opportunity for my friends mainly Kiyah to try and convince me to come to that party on Saturday. I still didn’t have an answer, even though no was the one I'd give.
We were in the food court after hitting most of the stores in the mall, bags tucked under the table, trays littered with fries and wrappers. It felt like old times; me, Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya running around, talking loudly, laughing harder, shopping without a real plan. The only real differences were our ages, our money, and the fact that Taya was pregnant again.
That part still caught me off guard. Coming home and finding out she was expecting hadn’t been on my bingo card, especially knowing how adamant she’d been about not wanting to go through that again so soon after losing their first baby back in ’98.
There was a story there, I could feel it, but I didn’t push. Truth had a way of revealing itself when it was ready.
“I mean, Kiyah’s right,” Taya said through a bite of fries. “He don’t really come around like that now since he realized she wasn’t comfortable around us.”
“Y’all not looking at the bigger picture,” Natasha cut in. “Nye don’t wanna be around they asses like that, especially when she ain’t tied to them like us. There’s plenty of parties and clubs we can hit this summer that got nothing to do with them.” She paused, then added, “I mean for us three. Not you,” shooting her twin a look.
I caught the brief flicker of something crossing Taya’s face before she smoothed it over, and despite that, I was grateful at least one of them saw it the way I did.
I didn’t have anything against the Prada Bois, but I wasn’t trying to get tangled back up in their mess either. Especially not now. Word around town was that a street war was heating up just as I came back, a new gang known as "The Hittas" was interfering in everything the Prada Bois had controlled for years.
And it was getting ugly. That alone was reason enough to stay out the way.
“You get it, Tasha,” I said. “I got no issues with them, but I ain’t trying to be mixed up with them again either. I told y’all what my plans were which is to get me a place and eventually go back to school to get my bachelor’s. I ain’t trying to do much else.”
The twins nodded. Kiyah rolled her eyes. I knew she’d hoped we’d run the streets like old times, but things were different now. Some scars didn’t fade; they changed you. I had another plan too; one I was keeping to myself for now. Dancing. I’d find a club soon enough, but until then, I had enough money saved to chill.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kiyah said, nudging me. “That don’t mean you gotta turn into an old maid, heifa. We twenty-one now. We can finally drink and party in them dope ass clubs.”
I smirked, but my mind was already made up.
Natasha was about to say something when Nataya cut her off. “Wow. I didn’t expect to see her here.”
We all followed her gaze to two women entering the food court, one was short with braids, the other with a pixie cut and hazel eyes just like Kiyah’s. I didn’t recognize either of them.
“That hoe ain’t got no money,” Kiyah snorted, “so she must be here applying for a job.” The sharpness in her tone made me turn toward her.
“You know them?”
That opened the floodgates. The woman with the hazel eyes was Marcy—Jacob’s last baby mama, the one who came out of nowhere but got confirmed by a DNA test. Mother of his seventh child, a son named Malek. I’d heard plenty about her.
Kiyah was on the verge of leaving Jacob every other week because of Marcy’s shenanigans but seeing her in person was different. I watched her openly as Kiyah vented. They looked similar; same build, same eyes, same energy which meant Jacob definitely had a type. I was sure that pissed Kiyah off more.
“She just can’t believe he don’t want shit to do with her outside of their son,” Kiyah snapped. “Like girl, scram. You was just a one-night stand gone wrong.”
I held back a laugh as I sipped my soda. It was becoming clear those two women would never coexist peacefully, and something told me I’d be seeing more of Marcy than I wanted.
“You know she keep trying you ‘cause it causes problems between y’all,” Natasha added. “She ain’t slick. Her ditzy ass want to see you and Jacob break up.”
“He didn’t want her before me and he won’t want her after me,” Kiyah shot back. “And I don’t mind beating her ass every time she try.”
I just shook my head. Kiyah was gon’ do what she wanted.
The conversation carried on long after Marcy and her friend disappeared from the food court without incident. By the time we headed back to our cars, the sun was dipping low.
“Just think about it some more though, Nye,” Kiyah said. “It’ll be fun to party like we used to.”
I smiled but still didn’t give her an answer. As I slid into my car, something slipped out before I could stop it. “Does he know I’m home?”
Kiyah raised a brow. “He should. You coming back was the talk of the town. But like Tasha said, we only see him when he ain’t gotta babysit that girl feelings.”
I nodded slowly, unsure how I felt about that, but something loosened in my chest all the same. Relief came with the truth. The city was small so eventually I’d run into him but at least it wouldn’t catch either of us off guard.
I made one more stop before heading home. Eckerd’s. I needed allergy medicine, nothing major, but it felt good to move with a purpose instead of sitting with my thoughts. I parked right in front of the store and went inside, the automatic doors sliding open with that familiar hiss.
I grabbed what I came for, then lingered a little, browsing, tossing a few extra things into my basket that I didn’t really need but convinced myself I might.
It was in the makeup aisle that I ran into another woman.
“Oh, girl! Your nails are bomb. You get them done around here?” she asked, eyes locked on my hands.
I smiled at her. She was very pretty; long hair falling past her shoulders with the tips dyed red, light tawny brown skin sprinkled with freckles that softened her face even more.
“Thank you, boo,” I replied. “Yeah, my girl Xi does them. She work at Pretty Nails off Main, right in the shopping center.”
She thanked me, laughing about how hard it was to find somebody who did good nails in town. I told her it was nothing, that Xi would hook her up for a good price, and after that small, easy interaction, we went our separate ways.
I paid for my things, nodded back at the cashier when he told me to have a good night, and walked out feeling lighter than I had all day.
There was another car parked a few spaces over from mine, but I didn’t pay it any attention. I was too busy digging through my purse for my keys. I should’ve looked up sooner. I didn’t—until I did.
And my heart skipped a beat.
Leaning against the hood of a black BMW I knew too well was a man I hadn’t laid eyes on in years. Jey. In denim shorts, white tee and Air Jordan 9’s. Same posture. Same presence. Just a little older but still handsome.
We froze at the same time.
Our eyes met. No words. No movement. Just the past standing between us, loud and uninvited. What felt like hours was really only minutes before I found the strength to move. There was nothing to say. Even if there was, I wasn’t ready to say it. I dropped my gaze and headed straight for my car.
Before I could get inside, the woman from the aisle stepped out of the store.
“Baby? My bad,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to take that long.”
Everything clicked as I slid into my seat without looking up. That woman was Tutor. Jey’s girlfriend.
I swallowed hard, forcing everything down as I put the car in reverse and pulled off. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. By the time I made it into the driveway, the tears came anyway. Silent at first, then heavier.
How did he still have that kind of hold on me after all this time? I sat there for a while, keys still in the ignition, trying to get myself together.
The past I thought I buried wasn’t resting anymore. It was being dug up piece by piece, moment by moment. And this time, there was no place left to run.
I've missed y'all something bad. And I'm coming to y'all to update you about Prada You 2.
I've taken it down as I'm not truly proud of what I created. I feel like I can do better. I know I can do better. You all deserve the best version of this story.
Please know I didn't make this decision lightly. I know y'all love these characters just as much as I do. So I'm asking for another chance to do this right, to do right by them.
Prada You 2 (The Redo) is being written as we speak. The cast of characters are still the same but the story is being switched up for the better. If you no longer want to be on the taglist for the new version of the story, let me know. I understand completely but I hope you'll stick around.
Summary: Noelle Ellis wanted to be more than a friendly face to the man in booth six—she wanted to be unforgettable. A whispered name, a secret potion, and suddenly the man of her dreams couldn’t look away. But when love comes easy, it rarely leaves quietly. And some obsessions don’t need magic to hold you hostage.
Pairing: Noelle ‘Noe’ Ellis (Black OC) x Jey Uso
AN: Ha! I’m back on my spooky shit. This is another AU joint with wrestling as the background. This short story is based off of the episode called “The Chaser” from the show “The Twilight Zone." A remake of sorts seen through a modern lens if you will. I hope I do it justice. #MakingRodSterlingProud LOL
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Act Ⅱ: The Obsession Part 4
A month in, mornings with Jey had a rhythm.
By the time Noe opened her eyes, the curtains were already pulled back just enough to let in the light. The diffuser hummed lavender into the air. And beside her on the nightstand: a mug of black coffee, already poured.
“Medium roast. No cream. You said you like how it hits your chest first thing,” Jey would say, brushing hair off her face like he’d been up for hours watching her sleep.
She never remembered turning off her alarm. He started waking her up before it buzzed. Gently. Kisses first. Coffee second.
The house always smelled like something warm—toast, rosemary, sage sausage. Jey cooked like it relaxed him. He folded her clothes without asking. He ordered her skincare products before she noticed she was running out.
He paid attention in ways that no one else had ever bothered to like the little things. Like her chain getting tangled when she rushed, so he left her a new one in the glovebox—14k gold, small, delicate.
“For that little collarbone I keep staring at,” he said, looping it around her neck in a gas station parking lot.
Sometimes she just stood in the hallway looking at the house.
It was beautiful. Quiet. Clean.
And every inch of it had started to feel… his.
Not in a bad way. Not exactly. Just full. Full of his energy. His music. His timing. His presence. And at first, Noe liked that. She liked not having to think. Not having to ask.
But some nights—especially when the TV was on and the conversation got soft—she’d feel the weight of something unsaid.
Like that night.
They were on the couch watching a reality show. Jey had the remote. She was curled into his side; legs tossed over his lap.
She glanced down at her phone.
“Tasha just texted,” she said. “Reggie’s birthday’s coming up.”
He didn’t look over. “You still talk to them like that?”
She blinked. “They’re my friends.”
He nodded slowly, setting the remote on the cushion beside him.
“You miss that place?” he asked.
“What place?”
“The Waffle House.”
She laughed. “Sometimes. I don’t know. It’s familiar. Messy in a good way.”
He turned toward her, draping his arm across her waist.
“What’s the point of being mine,” he said softly, “if you’re not with me?”
Noe frowned, confused. “I am with you.”
Jey brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I mean really with me. Not one foot still back there.”
“I’m not—”
He leaned in, kissing her slowly. Thoughtfully. Like he was taming her with patience.
“You don’t need to keep working, baby,” he whispered. “You don’t need to serve coffee to strangers when you could be out on the road with me. Every day. Every night.”
She sat back slightly. “I mean, I like working.”
“You liked working,” he said, smiling now. “Before you had something better.”
She didn’t answer.
“I want you with me. Always,” he said. “What’s mine is yours. And you? You’re mine.”
It didn’t sound possessive.
Not at first.
It sounded like devotion.
Like gravity dressed up as romance.
----
Noe stepped into the Waffle House like she was walking into an old movie she forgot how to act in.
Same smell: butter, bleach, and slightly burnt coffee.
Same people: Reggie behind the grill, flipping hash browns with his usual irritated grace. Tasha at the register, gum snapping between bites of a breakfast sandwich. Miss Bernice in her corner booth doing crosswords with a red pen like it was religion.
Everything exactly where she left it.
Only now, it felt like a set.
She walked in wearing jeans and a soft knit cardigan Jey had ordered for her from some boutique in Miami. It still had the tag tucked in the side seam. Her ring caught the overhead light when she waved.
Tasha saw it first.
“Damn,” she said, dragging the word out. “You went and married that man for real?”
Noe smiled, unsure what else to do. “I did.”
Reggie didn’t look up. “She gone Hollywood on us now.”
Noe forced a laugh and tucked her hands in her pockets.
Her manager, Mr. Lyle, was already walking over from the back, eyebrows raised.
“You here to pick up shifts or shut the door, baby girl?”
She pulled the folded paper from her back pocket—her resignation, scribbled last night when Jey was in the shower.
“Shuttin’ the door.”
Mr. Lyle looked at her for a long moment. “We figured. Just hoped we were wrong.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t guilt her. Just took the paper, read it with a tired sigh, and nodded.
“You sure?”
Noe opened her mouth. Closed it. Then she nodded again.
“We got a lotta regulars who’ll miss you.”
She shrugged. “They’ll be alright.”
“Not the point,” he said quietly.
They stood there for a second too long. Then he clapped her shoulder and turned away.
Tasha came around the counter with her arms crossed.
“So that’s it?” she asked. “You gonna vanish into luxury and leave us to the grease gods?”
Noe smiled, softer now. “It’s not like that.”
Tasha tilted her head. “Then what’s it like?”
Noe hesitated.
“It’s… good. He takes care of me.”
Tasha arched one brow. “You sayin’ that like it’s a full sentence.”
Before Noe could reply, someone called out for more coffee. Tasha turned without another word. She made her way to the back, grabbed her old apron off the hook. It still had her name tag. It still smelled like syrup and sanitizer.
She held it for a long time before folding it into a neat square and setting it on the counter.
Booth Six was empty.
It had been all day.
Noe stood in front of it anyway. Ran her hand along the edge of the table. Counted the sugar packets like she used to when she was bored.
She used to dream here.
Now it felt like a place she’d snuck into by mistake.
Outside, the sun was already dropping behind the laundromat. A man stood under the awning holding a to-go cup and talking to himself.
Noe walked past the window without looking back.
She had everything she wanted now.
Didn’t she?
----
Atlanta looked like a postcard from the inside of the penthouse.
The skyline cut sharp through the floor-to-ceiling windows, all glass and steel in the dusk. Inside, the suite glowed golden—marble counters, rainfall shower, plush hotel robes with the initials of a place she couldn’t pronounce.
Noe stood barefoot on the polished wood floor, brushing lotion into her arms, still in awe that her name was on the room’s guest list.
Jey came up behind her, looping both arms around her waist.
“You ready, Noe-Bird?”
She smiled. “Do I look ready?”
He leaned into her neck. “You look like you belong in a painting.”
They were headed to a live event. Jey wasn’t wrestling that night, but he still made his presence known—backstage handshakes, camera flashes, a sea of dark suits and wrestlers in sweats and chains. Noe walked next to him in heels she didn’t pick, in a dress he had shipped express from a designer she’d never heard of.
“You sure about this one?” she had asked, holding the hanger the night before.
He nodded. “Makes you look untouchable.”
The arena buzzed with crowd noise even from the private suite. People greeted Jey like he was royalty. Some looked at Noe and smiled politely. Few asked her name.
He always kept his hand on her. Her back. Her waist. The bend of her elbow. Always. When she stepped away to use the restroom, she caught his eyes following her the entire way down the hall. Still smiling.
Still watching.
Later that night in the car, she made a joke about getting lost in the arena.
Jey didn’t laugh.
“I would’ve found you,” he said flatly.
Noe looked over.
He softened again. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
He took her hand and kissed the back of it, eyes still on the road.
“I just like knowing where you are.”
That night, back in the suite, she got a text from her cousin inviting her to a birthday dinner the following weekend.
She mentioned it casually while brushing her teeth.
Jey, already under the covers, asked, “You going by yourself?”
“I figured,” she said. “It’s just family. A little barbecue thing.”
He tilted his head. “Text me the pin when you get there.”
She looked at him through the mirror. “You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do,” he said, smiling. “I just like knowing you’re safe.”
Noe smiled back.
But the toothpaste suddenly tasted too sweet.
And in her phone’s settings, she found a new shared location tag already active.
“JEY – always.”
She didn’t remember accepting it. She just stared at it for a minute. Then closed the screen.
----
They were back at home, and the house felt quieter than usual. Noe had left the windows cracked, hoping the breeze would cut the late-summer heat. But the air was still and heavy, clinging to her arms like a second skin.
She stood in the kitchen barefoot, sipping mango juice straight from the bottle, wearing one of Jey’s long tees and nothing else. He liked her that way. Said it made her look like she belonged there. Not visiting. Not playing house. His.
He was on the couch, feet propped up, scrolling through photos from the Atlanta event. Every now and then, he’d turn the phone toward her and say something like, “Look at you here—ain’t nobody seeing me with that glow but you.”
She laughed. She meant it. Mostly.
“Come over here,” he said.
She padded across the floor and dropped onto the couch next to him. He pulled her legs over his lap, fingers tracing lazy circles along her shin.
“Hey,” he said, not looking up. “You ever think about kids?”
The question hit softly. No warning. Just slipped in like part of the evening.
“Kids?” she echoed, surprised.
“Yeah. Us. You ever thought about it?”
She shrugged. “I mean, sure. I guess. Someday.”
He finally looked at her, eyes warm. Serious.
“I think about it.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “You’d be a good mom. You got that calm energy. You got a good heart.”
She smiled, flattered, but uneasy. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
Jey brushed her ankle with the back of his hand. “I’m serious. I see it. I think we should try.”
Her brow furrowed. “Try?”
“You know. See what happens. I’m not saying tomorrow. Just…” He paused. “Let it be natural.”
Something tensed in her chest. She shifted slightly.
“I’m still on birth control,” she said, careful.
Jey’s hand stopped.
He blinked. “You are?”
“I mean… yeah. I just never stopped. Habit, I guess.”
His silence wasn’t loud—but it was present. A stillness like when someone walks into a room with bad news but hasn’t said it yet.
Then: “Why?”
His voice was soft. But not gentle.
“I didn’t think we were rushing into all that,” she said. “I figured we’d talk about it more. Y’know, time it right.”
He nodded slowly. “But we married, right?”
“Yes.”
“We together, right?”
“Yes…”
He leaned forward, cupping her face in one hand.
“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m just saying—it’s us now. You don’t need all that. Not anymore.”
Noe didn’t speak.
He kissed her. Light, delicate, on the corner of her mouth. Then her cheek. Then her neck.
“I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “You know that?”
She nodded.
“You love me?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
That night, he made love to her like she was something rare. Something borrowed and returned. No rush. No roughness. Just long, slow touches and eyes that didn’t close.
Not once.
She didn’t say no.
But she didn’t say yes, either.
----
The morning after, Noe woke to birdsong piped in through the Sonos speakers—Jey’s idea of natural ambience.
The curtains were open just enough to let in that dreamy coastal light. Her side of the bed was still warm. Jey had left a note on the pillow this time, scribbled in black ink with his signature looping too big to fit the card.
“Back soon. Don’t get too gorgeous without me.”
—J
She sat up slowly, stretched, and looked around the bedroom like it was someone else’s hotel room.
It was all still perfect.
Flawless.
Sterile.
The robe on the chair. The slippers lined up by the door. Her phone on the nightstand already charged.
She padded into the bathroom and turned on the tap. Cold water. Palmfuls to the face. Like that would shake off the feeling. When she looked up, her eyes met her own in the mirror—and for a split second, she saw someone she used to be. Just a flicker.
Her lips still full, her skin still smooth, her hair still wrapped in the silk scarf from the night before. But the look in her eyes wasn’t hers.
It belonged to someone quiet.
Someone careful.
She pulled open the drawer where she kept her skincare, toothbrush, earrings—and paused. At the back of the drawer, tucked between a velvet pouch and an old receipt from a sushi spot, lay the empty vial Hart had given her.
It was so small. Empty glass with a faint cloudiness at the base. The cork top still a little stained from where the potion had clung to it.
Noe picked it up like it might burn her. She turned it in the light. It shimmered, catching the reflection of her ring. That vial had changed everything. Maybe. Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe this was always in him. Maybe love just strips the paint off fast.
She didn’t know anymore.
She closed her hand around the glass and whispered without thinking, “Was this love, or did I summon it?”
Then she set it gently back in the drawer and closed it.
Later, she started to call her mom. She pulled up the number, stared at it, thumb hovering. But didn’t dial.
She texted Tasha instead:
You ever feel like you got exactly what you wanted, and it still feels off?
Tasha wrote back ten minutes later:
Girl that’s called Wednesday.
Noe laughed—just once, sharp and sudden—and tossed the phone on the bed. From the hallway, the Sonos birds chirped a little louder.
Outside, the sun was climbing. Another beautiful day in the house she thought was her future.
And somewhere in her chest, something tapped. Quiet and patient.
It was a Wednesday. Not that it mattered. Ever since India started being a social media influencer full time, the days just seemed to blur together.
Every morning, her manager and close friend, Karli, would send her a checklist of tasks that she needed to complete for the day. Whether it was streaming on Twitch, posting flicks for insta, or doing ad promos.
Ever since she started streaming on Twitch, her following had boosted in just a couple of days. She grew to really like it, and loved talking to all the people who supported her.
Even though most people thought she was a beautiful girl, she was single. She hadn’t been in a relationship for years, having got her heart broken bad.
She swore she would never let that happen again.
So, most of her interactions with men have been a meaningless DM, her texting them back, and the conversation going nowhere.
And India has talked to every type of man imaginable, from pro basketball/football players to even doctors and lawyers. But none of them actually drew her in enough.
So here she was, on FaceTime with her sister, Ivy, while she went through her notifications on Instagram, responding back to sweet comments and reposting people’s stories if they took pics with her when they met her.
“Mhm, girl. Mikey talkin’ bout he wanna go see them people wrestle this weekend in Florida.” Her sister’s son, her cute little nephew, was obsessed with wrestling and was always asking to go to a show.
“Aww, Ivy take my nephew so he can be happy!” India laughed and went back to the FaceTime camera so she wouldn’t be on pause on her sister’s end.
Ivy rolled her eyes and kept snacking on some chocolate-covered strawberries while she contemplated taking her son, looking mindlessly out the window.
“You think the tickets are expensive? Girl Imma be lost at the show. I don’t know no wrestlers.” Ivy asked before grabbing her laptop that was out of the frame and looking up the prices of the tickets.
“It’s probably like a concert, the closer you sit, the more expensive it’s gon’ be.” India reasoned. “And girl, you know at least one! Ain’t The Rock a wrestler?”
In the background of her sister’s camera frame, she saw her nephew walk closer to the phone. “Hi Auntie Indie!” He smiled and waved at the camera.
“Hi my bookie butt! I miss you!” India blew him a kiss through the phone.
“I miss you too…Are you gonna go with us to go see my favorite wrestler??” He put his little hands together like he was praying she would say yes.
India pouted at her nephew, she almost folded and said yes. “I don’t know Mikey, if it’s in Florida, I don’t think I can make it…”
“Mikey where you wanna sit at?” Ivy asked her son, pointing at her laptop screen with all the seat options. Ivy grabbed her phone and flipped the camera to show India as well.
“Girl! $800 to sit right by the ring?!” India just laughed at her sister’s reaction. She always was on the cheap side.
But $800 was a bit crazy though.
“But mom!! We’ll be really close. Please, please?” Mikey was jumping up and down, his curls flying in his face.
Ivy shook her head and grabbed her purse that had her wallet in it, and Mikey knew that was a yes.
“Yay! Thank you mommy! I love you!” He hugged Ivy and smothered her face in kisses, making her laugh and India smile adoringly.
Sometimes India wished that she had a little angel baby of her own to take care of, but the thought never lingered in her mind for too long.
By the sound of another happy scream from her nephew, she assumed that Ivy had secured two tickets for the upcoming show in Florida.
“Okay Mikey, now mommy has to get us a hotel and a flight. Go brush your teeth because we got errands to run after.”
“Okay! Bye Auntie Indie. We get to see Jey Uso!” Mikey kissed the camera before he ran away happily to his room.
India took a sip of her iced coffee that she had fixed earlier. “Jey Uso? That’s his favorite wrestler?”
“Girl yes. I can never remember his name. All I know is Mikey love doin’ that damn dance he does when he come out.” Ivy mimicked it, making India almost spit out her coffee.
“No way that’s what he does.” India asked.
“Look it up then.”
India did indeed look him up on Google and boom, there he was. The most recent pictures were of him in a wife beater, chains on, belt on, with his grillz and shades on. She saw his tatted up arms and instantly thought he was fine.
“Oouu Ivy, this guy is foineee.” She spoke out, still scrolling and looking at more pictures of the wrestler. She sees the link to his Instagram and clicks on it, thinking there would be better pictures of him on there.
As her phone switched to his account on Instagram, her eyes immediately snapped to that blue button that said “Follow Back”. Her eyes bulged a little.
She saw that he had 2 million followers but he only followed a handful of people, probably his family and friends.
“Ivy. Tell me why this nigga follows me on Insta.” She tells her sister, still scrolling through his page. It was mostly just promos for WWE, ads, and workout videos.
“Who?”
“This Jey guy!”
Ivy’s facial expression changed to surprise then playful dread. “Oh girl, don’t let Mikey hear. Then he gon’ be hounding you like he do to me.”
“Shut uppp. No but forreal, that’s crazy. Should I follow him back?” India’s thumb hovered over the blue button.
“Hell yea girl, that’s cool. It’s just a follow, no harm done.” Ivy convinced her sister to click that button.
“Okay Miss A-lister. I gotta go run some errands with Mikey. Call me tonight?” India clicked back on the camera just in time to see Ivy gathering her purse and wallet so they could be out the door soon.
“You so funny. And yes, we’ll talk later. Love you sissy.”
“Love you more.”
Not soon after, India received a text from Karli with a last-minute ad that a brand wanted her to do. It was a company that made stylish eyeglass frames. Karli basically told her that she would be getting a package today with different cute eyeglass frames and she just had to make a TikTok trying them on and reviewing them. All she had to do was post on TikTok and Instagram Stories.
She remembered that she never posted her flicks she took the other night when she was just chilling in bed.
After staring at the pictures for too long, she quickly pressed 'Post' before she changed her mind, and the likes and comments quickly began coming in within seconds.
liked by ft.gioo, uceyjucey, and 984 others
indialove late night flicks...
view all 460 comments
ft.gioo ho ur perfect😍
scamlikelybabyy india somebody needa wife u up
uceyjucey Damn mama. So beautiful.
thottiewottie ik damn well jey uso ain't in my girl comments
wwe.guy45 REF DO SOMETHINGGG
She always put her phone on do not disturb after making a post just because she hated watching the comments happen in real time for some reason.
She went about her day, keeping an eye and an ear out for her package that was supposed to be delivered today. It was eventually delivered, and she was really excited to try on the glasses. She took her hair down from the claw clip it was in and ran a brush through it to look presentable before recording the review and posting it on Insta and TikTok.
Not feeling like getting out in the city and driving today, she decided to UberEats her order for dinner from In-N-Out, a double-double meal with a strawberry shake.
It was 7:09 p.m. when the delivery girl knocked on her door after taking the confirmation picture. India quickly thanked her, locking her door back so she could dig in to the food.
"Oh thank God it's still warm." She said to herself as she took the contents out of the seal proof bag. She always drank the shake first before actually eating the food, which her sister always thought was weird.
She decided that she wanted to watch her show while she ate, How to Get Away with Murder. She had just started watching it last week and was already on season 3.
While the show was on a commercial break, India decided to check on her post she made earlier. She had gotten more likes in the time frame from when she first posted it to now. Now, the post had 101K likes and 1,209 comments.
All her social media friends commented and supported as usual. She loved reading the comments, the good and bad honestly.
"Somebody said I know damn well Jey Uso ain't in my girl com-" She gasped, putting the french fry that was on its way to her mouth down.
"You're lying." She said out loud to herself, scrolling fast and trying to find his so-called comment.
And there it was.
uceyjucey Damn mama. So beautiful.
She tapped on his username and it damn sure was him.
She gazed at her phone screen for a second, not sure how to react. She found that he commented that 8 hours ago which was around the time she first made the post.
"Oh my Goddd. This nigga liked it right when I posted it..."
As she was sitting in her bed, still thinking about the whole situation, she gets a DM notification from him.
[uceyjucey]: Anybody ever spoiled you the right way mama?
India took her glasses off and brought the phone closer to her face, as if she was hallucinating. Ain't no way in hell this fine ass wrestler was talking to her right now.
She decided to respond back after a few minutes, trying to be cool about it.
[indialove]: that depends. what is the right way?
Her message said 'Seen' instantly and those three little dots appeared on the screen.
[uceyjucey]: I'm tryna wine and dine you. You deserve it.
This made India smack her teeth. Even though she was popular on social media, she had only ever went on dates with her now ex-boyfriend and he always pitched a fit whenever she suggested that they go somewhere nice. In reality, she was actually very curious what it would be like to eat in a fancy restaurant with someone.
[uceyjucey]: You gonna be in Florida this week?
Another message came through from him.
Not even thinking about how fast she was responding to him, she texted back.
[indialove]: no i won't
A lot more time went by after he saw her message. She thought that would be the end of the conversation since they clearly weren't in the same area.
[uceyjucey]: We gon' talk more tomorrow mama. Here's my number. Goodnight pretty
India sat up in her bed in shock. No way this man just-
She didn't wanna admit it but this interaction had her geeked. The more she looked at pictures and videos of him in the ring or giving interviews, the more attractive he was to her.
It was something about him, and she was finna find out what it was whether she liked it or not.
Summary: Noelle Ellis wanted to be more than a friendly face to the man in booth six—she wanted to be unforgettable. A whispered name, a secret potion, and suddenly the man of her dreams couldn’t look away. But when love comes easy, it rarely leaves quietly. And some obsessions don’t need magic to hold you hostage.
Pairing: Noelle ‘Noe’ Ellis (Black OC) x Jey Uso
AN: Ha! I’m back on my spooky shit. This is another AU joint with wrestling as the background. This short story is based off of the episode called “The Chaser” from the show “The Twilight Zone." A remake of sorts seen through a modern lens if you will. I hope I do it justice. #MakingRodSterlingProud LOL
Warnings: Mild SMUT
Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.
Act Ⅰ: The Desire Part 3
He came back the next day.
Noe was wiping down the pie case, half-distracted by a podcast playing in one earbud, when the bell above the door gave its usual cheerful jingle. She didn’t even look up—until she heard his voice.
“Hey, Noe-Bird,” he said, sliding onto a stool at the counter.
“You again,” she said, trying to sound annoyed. She wasn’t.
“I forgot to ask for your number last time,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “Mind if I fix that?”
She blinked. “You… want my number?”
He grinned like she was being coy. “Unless you’re planning to stay Waffle House exclusive.”
Noe let the rag fall back onto the counter and tried to smile like this was normal.
“Alright,” she said, rattling off the digits.
He punched it in, then sent her a message immediately. A soft buzz lit up in her apron pocket.
Jey: Now you’ve got mine. Don’t lose it.
She raised an eyebrow. “That your line?”
“That one’s just for you,” he said.
He stayed just long enough to order a biscuit. Just long enough to make her heart skip. Then he was gone again.
By the time her shift ended, he’d texted her.
Jey: What you doing?
Jey: You miss me yet…
Jey: 👀
She waited twenty minutes before responding. Make him sweat a little. After that, it was constant.
Messages. Phone calls. Pictures from his day. A selfie of him holding a “Welcome to Mobile” sign with the caption, “Not as good as with you.”
He told her he’d cleared his schedule. Said he’d been “burning out,” needed a reset. Jey claimed the higher ups were glad he was taking time off.
“I don’t usually get a break this long,” he said one night over the phone. “But I’m not trying to waste it.”
She asked what he was trying to do.
He said, “This.”
And suddenly he was everywhere.
He’d wait outside the Waffle House after her shift ended, leaned against his car like a movie scene. They’d sit and talk for hours or grab drive-thru fries and park by the water. He never seemed rushed. Never checked his phone when she talked.
He sent her flowers at work—lilies and calla stems with a note that just read: I see you.
Tasha raised an eyebrow when she saw the delivery. “Damn, girl. You’re dating for real now?”
Reggie muttered, “Better hope he’s not married.”
Noe rolled her eyes. “He’s not.”
But she said it a little too fast.
Jey took her to dinner three times in five days. Nice places—steakhouses with white tablecloths and crab-stuffed sides, places where you order wine with the kind of name you can’t pronounce. He always ordered for her. She didn’t mind.
And always, he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room.
---
On the seventh day, after a long, lazy dinner where they laughed too much and drank just enough, Jey leaned in across the table, twirling a straw wrapper between his fingers.
“You trust me?”
Noe blinked. “I think so.”
“You think?”
She smiled. “I don’t trust easily.”
He nodded, like that made her more interesting.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
He grinned. “Somewhere quiet. Just us. You’ll like it.”
She hesitated.
“You scared?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
And maybe that was true. But in her pocket, she still carried the receipt with his note. The one that said he was seeing her clearer. She hadn’t shown it to anyone. Not even herself, really.
He smiled again. That grin that always made her lean forward instead of back.
“Pack a bag,” he said. “We leave tomorrow.”
---
The flight was first class—leather seats, champagne on takeoff, and windows that glowed like softened gold against the fading daylight. Noe had never flown this way. She didn’t know airplanes could whisper. The hum was so smooth it barely felt like motion.
Jey sat beside her, legs stretched out, glass in hand, like he did this all the time. Maybe he did.
“You good?” he asked, touching her knee lightly.
Noe looked around the cabin, wide-eyed. “I didn’t even know people like me were allowed up here.”
He smirked. “People like you?”
“You know. People who keep syrup packets in their purse.”
Jey laughed low in his throat. “Girl, you think I don’t have hot sauce in my gym bag?”
They landed just after sunset. The lights of Las Vegas blinked up from below like a second sky—neon constellations of sin and possibility.
A black SUV was waiting at the terminal—driver in a cap, no questions asked. The ride was quiet except for Jey’s hand brushing hers in the middle seat.
The hotel wasn’t on the Strip, but just off it—one of those private towers with tinted windows and velvet-doored elevators. The suite was huge: marble floors, sunken tub, floor-to-ceiling views of the skyline, and a king bed dressed in high-thread-count everything.
There was fruit waiting on a glass table and champagne already chilling in a silver bucket.
Noe stood at the window for a long time, just staring.
“Damn,” she whispered.
Jey came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
“This ain’t even the honeymoon suite,” he murmured, mouth brushing her ear. “Just wait.”
And he kissed her—slow, deep, like the plane hadn’t landed yet.
They stayed in that suite for two days. Slept late. Drank early. He spoiled her with room service and silk robes and impromptu foot rubs. He didn’t check his phone once.
She posted a photo of her feet on the balcony, captioned “finally breathing.”
The comments came fast.
Where you at? Who you with? Tasha texted six exclamation points and nothing else.
---
On the third morning, they wandered through downtown, hand in hand. Noe wore a dress Jey had bought her the day before—plum colored, off the shoulder. He kept telling her how good she looked in it, how he could barely keep his eyes off her.
They passed a little wedding chapel—polished chrome trim, neon roses pulsing against the dusk.
Jey stopped. Looked at it. Then looked at her.
“You ever just know?” he asked.
Noe blinked. “Know what?”
“That something’s right. That waiting doesn’t make it better—it just makes it later.”
She laughed once. “Wait—are you serious?”
He nodded.
“I’m serious as hell.”
She blinked. “Jey, we’ve only—”
“I don’t care. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. Ever.”
He squeezed her hand.
“Let’s do it. Right now. Just you and me. No fans, no media, no drama. Just… us.”
And when he said it like that, when the lights from the sign flickered across his face like stars, it felt less like a proposal and more like an inevitability.
She hesitated.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“Okay.”
---
They found the chapel by accident, or so Jey said.
But when they stepped inside, it didn’t feel accidental at all.
The walls were lined in red velvet. The carpet was gold flecked. The ceiling fan hummed above a podium where a tired man in a powder-blue tux stood waiting, as if this kind of thing happened every fifteen minutes.
Noe barely remembered what name she gave. Her voice shook as she said it. But Jey squeezed her hand—firm, steady, grounding.
He looked at her like there was no one else in the room. And for a moment, there wasn’t.
“You sure?” the officiant asked, holding the thin black binder like it might bite him.
Jey didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. We’re sure.”
They stood beneath a blinking plastic arch. There were no witnesses. Just silk flowers and a woman in the corner pressing “play” on a Bluetooth speaker that sputtered out instrumental Elvis.
“Repeat after me…”
The vows were short. The exchange simple.
But when Jey said, “I do,” he didn’t just say it—he claimed it.
And when Noe said it back, something in her chest trembled—not with fear, but with finality.
The rings slid on easily.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Jey didn’t hesitate.
And the moment their lips touched—under buzzing neon, between strangers, in a room that smelled faintly of Febreze and static—it felt both impossible and exactly right.
They walked back to the hotel in silence, his hand warm around hers, the marriage certificate rolled under his arm.
He carried her over the threshold of the suite without asking. That night, when he touched her, it wasn’t like claiming anymore. It was sealing.
---
The honeymoon suite smelled like rose petals and oranges—because Jey asked for both.
The concierge delivered them in crystal bowls. He tipped without blinking. A bottle of Veuve Clicquot waited in the ice bucket, two flutes catching the light from the chandelier. The bed had been remade with new linen before they’d even returned from the courthouse. Everything moved for him.
Everything bent.
Noe walked barefoot on the soft carpet, hands trailing over marble counters and mirrored walls, still wearing the ring they’d picked from the velvet tray just hours earlier. It was simple. Elegant. A diamond small enough to feel real but bright enough to catch her breath.
She posted a photo of their hands in front of a velvet curtain: his thumb, her ring.
Caption: What happens in Vegas…
Her phone exploded almost immediately.
Tasha: BITCH
Her manager at Waffle House: You gettin’ married on your off day??
Three missed calls from her mom.
She turned the phone over. Let it buzz into silence.
Jey didn’t ask who it was. He was too busy ordering dinner—room service again: seafood risotto, lamb lollipops, chocolate lava cake he insisted they wouldn’t finish but absolutely would. They ate sitting cross-legged on the floor, laughing as champagne bubbled out of their flutes.
He kissed her between bites. Touched her shoulder, her knee, her ankle. Always casually. Always constantly.
“You happy?” he asked, somewhere between dessert and the fourth glass.
Noe nodded, head resting on his chest. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“You sure?”
She looked up.
“I’m sure.”
He stared at her like she’d just confirmed something sacred. Like she’d passed a test he hadn’t told her she was taking.
“Good,” he said.
“Why?” she teased. “You scared I’d change my mind?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Not scared,” he murmured. “Just... don’t think I’d handle it well.”
She laughed. Light. Easy.
But he didn’t.
That night, they soaked in the tub together. He washed her shoulders with careful hands. Dried her hair with a towel like it was delicate silk. Carried her back to bed without asking if she wanted to walk.
When she lay back against the pillows, he stood at the foot of the bed for a moment just watching her—like he didn’t quite believe she was there.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, in a voice lower than before, he said, “You look like something I used to dream about. But I couldn’t hold onto it. I’d wake up, and it’d be gone.”
She swallowed. “Well… I’m here now.”
“Yeah,” he said, crawling onto the bed. “You are.”
The first kiss was slow. The second, deeper. His hands mapped her like a man with time, like nothing existed outside this suite. No hurry. No distraction. Just her. Only her.
He moved like worship. Touched like memory. And when he whispered her name, it wasn’t “Noe-Bird.”
His hands roamed her body, firm and possessive, gripping her hips, squeezing her breasts, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He kissed her deeply, his lips claiming hers, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that left her breathless.
He bit her lower lip, pulling it gently between his teeth, his eyes locked onto hers, a dark, intense gaze that promised so much more.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice a low, demanding rumble. "I need it from the back."
She complied, turning onto her hands and knees, presenting herself to him. He groaned, his hands immediately going to her hips, pulling her against him, his erection pressing against her entrance.
Jey leaned down, his teeth grazing her neck, his hands gripping her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to him. His other hand snaked around to her front, his fingers finding her clit, circling it with a skilled, relentless pressure.
"So, fucking beautiful," he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl. "And all mine."
He entered her slowly from behind, his hands on her hips, his body covering hers, his teeth still grazing her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her ear.
He started to move, his thrusts slow and deep, his body pressing against hers, his hands roaming her body, gripping her breasts, her hips, her ass, his touch dominating, possessing.
He reached around, his fingers finding her clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, building her pleasure with a ruthless efficiency.
Noe moaned, her body arching into his, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles tight. "Jey... oh God, baby..."
He pulled out, flipping her onto her back, a wicked smile on his lips. "I ain’t done yet, baby," he said, his voice a low promise. He lifted her legs, placing them on his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh.
He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a hungry, desperate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lips.
He entered her again, his thrusts deep and powerful, his body slamming into hers, the sound of their flesh meeting filling the room, a symphony of their raw, unbridled desire.
He reached down, his hand gripping her throat, his thumb pressing against her pulse, feeling her heartbeat, feeling her life force beneath his touch. His other hand snaked down to where they were joined, his fingers finding her clit like it was his favorite thing to play with, rubbing it with a fierce intensity.
Noe cried out, her body arching off the bed, her hands gripping his arms, her nails digging into his flesh, urging him deeper, harder, faster. "Don't stop, baby. Please, don't stop."
He complied, his body moving with a feral intensity, his eyes locked onto hers, his hands gripping her thighs, his fingers leaving bruises on her soft skin.
He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a hungry, desperate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lips, his hands tangling in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to him.
He trailed kisses down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, his hands gripping her throat, his thumb pressing against her pulse, feeling her heartbeat, feeling her life force beneath his touch. He sat back, his hands on her hips, his body still moving, still thrusting, still dominating.
He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him, her body impaled on his, her hands on his chest, her nails digging into his flesh.
Noe rode him, her body moving with a wild, untamed rhythm, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples hard and begging for his touch.
Jey leaned up, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting gently, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.
"Let go for me," he growled against her skin, his voice a low, demanding command. “Let Daddy feel what I do for you.”
His words sent her over the edge, her body convulsing, her inner muscles clenching around him, milking him for all he was worth. She screamed his name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into his back, leaving marks of their passion.
With a final, powerful thrust, he joined her, his body shaking, a low groan escaping his lips as he found his release, her name a low, desperate cry on his lips. "Noe... fuck, Noe..."
They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in sync, their breaths coming in ragged, satisfied gasps. He pulled her into his arms, his lips pressing a soft, tender kiss to her forehead, his voice a low, content rumble.
"Shit, you something else, Noe-bird."
She smiled, her body sated, her mind blissfully empty, her voice a soft, tired whisper. "Only with you, Jey. Only with you."
---
They touched down back home just after noon.
The Florida sun felt duller somehow. Or maybe it was the memory of neon still clinging to Noe’s skin, a little louder, a little sweeter than the light outside the airport’s automatic doors. She wore sunglasses and a Waffle House hoodie. Jey wore black on black, his wedding ring catching the sun whenever he shifted his grip on her suitcase.
“You sure you don’t wanna go to your house?” Noe asked as they walked to the car.
He looked at her like she’d asked if the sky was real.
“No. I’m taking you home first.”
She almost laughed but didn’t.
Jey had a Mercedes waiting in the lot. Black. Clean. Air already cold. Noe didn’t ask whose name it was under.
They pulled into her mother’s driveway thirty minutes later. The porch light was still on, even in daylight. A small hedge leaned just slightly over the walkway. Everything looked exactly the same—except her.
Her mother opened the door before they could knock. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at Jey, then at the suitcase, then at Noe’s hand.
The ring sparkled like it had been waiting to make its entrance.
Her mom’s voice was low. Flat. Controlled.
“So… this how you tell me?”
Noe winced. “I wanted to tell you face to face.”
Her mom looked at Jey, who offered a smile—charming, neutral, practiced.
“Ms. Ellis,” he said, hand outstretched. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She didn’t shake it. Just nodded once, eyes sharp as glass.
Noe said, “We eloped. In Vegas.”
“You don’t say.”
“Mama—”
“You sure this is real?”
“She’s my wife,” Jey said.
The words dropped heavy.
Noe didn’t remember getting past her Mama, but somehow they were inside. Her mother didn’t follow them beyond the threshold.
Jey carried her bag through the hallway like he’d walked it a hundred times. When he passed the photos on the wall—baby pictures, church portraits, Noe’s high school graduation—he barely glanced at them.
“Grab everything you need,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve got your space ready.”
She blinked. “What?”
“At my place,” he said. “You’re not staying here. You’re coming home—with me.”
Noe’s heart did a strange little stutter.
“You didn’t think I was flying you out, marrying you, and dropping you back at your momma’s, did you?”
His voice was still soft. Still smiling. But something in it didn’t feel like a joke. She didn’t argue. Not out loud.
In the car, she texted Tasha: Back in town. It happened.
Tasha: You crazy bitch. I love it.
Noe: I'm moving in with him.
Tasha: Damn. Already?
She didn’t respond.
Jey’s house was in the suburbs. Gated. Quiet. Modern and white with floor-to-ceiling windows and furniture that looked like it had been chosen by a stylist, not a person.
Inside, it smelled like eucalyptus and citrus.
“You good?” he asked, watching her drop her purse by the door.
Noe nodded. “Yeah. Just… adjusting.”
He smiled, then stepped closer. Touched her hair. Brushed it behind her ear with two fingers.
“You all mine now,” he said.
And the way he said it—soft, certain, proud—should’ve sounded romantic.
But it didn’t.
It sounded like dominion.
---
Their first night in the house was too quiet.
Noe had never slept in a place with such thick walls. No traffic. No neighbor’s dog. Just the whisper of central air and the soft tick of the thermostat resetting. She kept expecting the world to make noise. It didn’t.
Dinner was waiting when she got out of the shower—salmon, couscous, a glass of white already poured.
“You didn’t have to—” she started.
“I wanted to,” Jey said, taking her plate and setting it just so. “You’re home now. I take care of mine.”
He lit a candle in the middle of the table.
She laughed gently. “You’re really doing all this?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
She sat, tucking her feet under the chair.
He talked while they ate—about the house, about which room would be hers to decorate, about the home gym she’d never use. He smiled every time she nodded. Touched her wrist every time she reached for her fork.
“I’m not used to all this,” she said quietly.
“Get used to it,” he said, without missing a beat.
After dinner, they curled up on the couch. She scrolled Instagram with the sound off while Jey massaged her calves.
He noticed every micro-expression. Every breath.
“You okay?” he asked every few minutes.
“Yeah,” she’d say.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
And every time, his hand would rest a little firmer on her thigh. Like reassurance had to come with pressure.
When they finally went to bed, she changed into one of his shirts. He watched her from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest like she was a painting he hadn’t decided whether to frame or hide.
“You look good here,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied.
“No, I mean… right. Like this is where you’re supposed to be.”
He climbed into bed, pulled the covers up around her like tucking in a child.
“You know you’re not leaving me, right?”
She blinked. “What?”
He smiled—soft, slow. But his hand didn’t stop holding her arm.
“You won’t ever leave me. Not really.”
Noe tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat.
“Why would I?” she said lightly.
Jey didn’t laugh back.
He just pulled her closer, laid his head against hers, and whispered, “That’s right.”
And even after he fell asleep, even after his breathing evened out, she felt his fingers still curled around her wrist.
Warnings: None really for now just pure fluff and a lil flirting ;)
wc:2.6k
Summary: After a long day at work, Ivory retreats to her favorite quiet bookstore—her sanctuary, tucked away on a quiet street just outside her office building. But tonight, the familiar comfort shifts when she finds that Mrs. Fatu was replaced by her very charming, very handsome grandson. What began as a chanced encounter—a fluffy pastry and literary debates turns into hours of effortless conversation. As weeks pass, their bond deepens through shared silences, lingering glances, and the stories they find between the shelves—and each other.
The rain came down in sheets as you left work, cursing yourself slightly for not grabbing your umbrella this morning. You yanked open the familiar handle before stumbling inside the library. Thank god it was Monday—not a soul in sight.
You'd come custom to stopping by this library after work. When you first started working at the office you used to go straight home, but one day you spotted this tucked, out the way library, with the biggest stained glass widows in the back. It was beautiful, it allowed you to escape and unwind.
You and the older women that owned the tiny library became close friends as well, every time you stopped by you'd bring her a new pastry to try from the bakery next door.
Older brown and black women always knew how to touch the emptiness in your soul.
You rounded the corner after you'd shaken off your drenched coat, hanging it on the rack, fully expecting two see who you always did.
"Mrs. Fatuuu guess what I got youuu."
You sang out to the older women. You always greeted her like that and she would always reply with "I hope it's something as sweet as youuu."
But she didn't, not today, you were met with silence. A pang of worry hit your chest, because she always sat in the front, not a day has gone by that's h wasn't here. As you continued walking who you saw was almost slightly familiar but it wasn't Mrs. Fatu.
He had a curly mullet, soft brown eyes that sat behind big golden frames, that complemented him perfectly. He had the same nose and skin complexion and Mrs. Fatu, so much so it was almost uncanny.
He was grinning slightly as you approached the counter, your face slightly pink.
"Hey Im Josh, my Grandma went out with the ladies from the church today."
You smiled back "I was just thinking y'all look a lot alike, sorry to barge in like that she's always here."
He laughed, "Yea you must be Ivory, she talks about you like you family." You nodded, extending your hand. He took it without hesitation, eyes locked onto yours. Your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink.
"Well I just know she'd hate for whatever you brought her go to waste." Letting your hand go after way too long.
Your smile reached your eyes, "no she wouldn't she's a sucker for the bakery right next door."
"She told our whole family about that place, I think I done tried everything on the menu...twice."
You laughed as you rounded the library counter sitting at the small nook against the wall.
"Well today they've got something new, you want to split it with me?"
You raised an eyebrow to the empty chair across from you, he obliged immediately. If he was anything like his grandmother he wouldn't have turned down food for nothing. Nothing.
"So miss Ivory, why you been bothering my nana all this while."
You rolled your eyes as you settled, opening the desert.
"I am not bothering her she loves me, plus she says y'all don't come see her enough."
You nodded at him knowingly.
"Yea we all been out doing our own thing, starting careers, and just livin'."
"I can't be mad at that, but come check up on here every once and a while, I don't know how many more cookout and family stories I can sit through."
His shoulders shook as he laughed, the sound filling the small library. The way his smile reached every part of his face, and the way the corners of his mouth crinkled as he laughed made your stomach flip.
He was quite handsome.
"Man that old lady be telling you about our cookouts?"
"Mcht don't call her old, and like I said if y'all come and visit more often I wouldn't know all yalls business."
Grabbing a fork he took a bite of the small pastry that sat between the two of you.
He spoke with his mouth full, making you giggle at the sight.
"Man what buisiness you know?"
"You said your Joshua right ?"
He nodded, not thinking his grandmother would out him the way she did.
'When you was 15 you and your twin brother drank y'all mommas entire bottle of rum one night, and not only did she find y'all OUTSIDE, y'all was covered in throw up, probably piss too."
You were laughing as you told the story, but Joshua howled with laughter, his voice booming off the walls.
"MAN AINT NO WAY SHE TOLD YALL THAT."
"Boy swallow that food before you choke."
That carried voice definitely ran in their family.
Wiping the invisible tear from his eyes, he finished chewing, a ghost of a smile still in his eyes as he spoke.
-
The rain came down in sheets in the late afternoon, enveloping the two of you in your own space of serenity.
Pastry long gone, the two of you found yourselves dwelling in stories of his family. He spoke of his grandmother and how she and her late husband built this library from the ground up 30 years ago, and they've been running it ever since, blessed to say it was their main source of income.
"That's incredible, she cares for this place like its alive."
"If you ask her, Ivory she might just tell you it is."
The two of you chuckled lightly, letting a beat of silence wash over. You found yourself gazing at the stained glass along the back wall. Josh must've seen your gaze.
"I actually made those."
You snapped your head back towards him.
"Your kidding, they are incredible Josh how long did that take you."
He sighed knowingly, "years, it was a gift to her, the panels tell a story."
You grinned ear to ear, having noticed that small detail, the man across you seemed to perk up as well.
"I could tell, its from my favorite book."
The way he perked up even more was the most precious thing ever.
"See I know the book and movie are very popular, but not many people understand the story behind that song."
But you did, it was one of the first book series you picked up and watched blossom into a movie series.
The panel basically played out the scenes of the song 'The Hanging Tree', from the movie 'The Hunger Games.' It was a creepy ass song with a dark meaning, but it was beautiful even so. Especially the way Josh had painted it. He captured the meaning of the song within the movie, through a painting, that was talent.
"The song meant that sometimes surviving isn't worth it, sometimes it's better for you and your love to die rather than continue living. Which is why it's featured so prominently in Mockingjay, as it's katniss's primary mentality throughout the book. She'd rather Peeta had died than fall into the hands of the capital. She's prepared to kill him rather than let his hijacking take over and let him do something the sane peeta would regret. She'd rather kill Gale than let him fall into the hands of the capital. (But in reality she's not prepared to do any of these things). She rather she had died than been picked up by district 13 while peeta was captured."
He listened to you carefully, amusingly. He knew the movie and the book like the back of his hands, he was the one that had gotten his grandmother so hooked in the first place, but he didn't have the heart to interrupt you. So he sat and listened to you yap about the book he's read 550 times, only because that meant watching the way you eyes sparkled as you got excited.
Your face reddened slightly, after you finished talking, realizing you had been yapping about a painting he drew.
You palmed your face lightly.
"Im sorry, you probably know more than me."
He waved you off, a grin on his face.
"I could listen to you talk all day."
Your heart skipped a beat, where his eyes always this pretty?
You cleared your throat, the both of you finding anything to look at but each other. The air becoming a bit too thick for your liking.
"So you in school or you work over here or sum, why you bothering my granny everyday."
You rolled your eyes at him.
"They might get stuck you keep fucking around."
You snorted, allowing yourself to laugh in front of him.
" I done told you already that women is lonely, y'all really ought to spend more time with her."
He waved his arms around, indicating he was in fact 'here'.
"Mcht ion mean come back when she needs something, come back because you want to, Im sure it would put a smile on her face."
He smiled softly, nodding—clearly stuck in though his eyes wandered just behind you, trying to grasp onto the right words.
"Im in school upstate—Ive been studying anything from world history to psychology, in the end it all ties together really."
You held your hand up slightly chuckling before he could continue, his mouth slightly open.
"Uh uhhh see I hang around too many English majors and world history sounds too much like it, and hunny don't get me started on them psychology majors, honestly I don't even know how the hell they've made careers with that shit."
He snorted, his eyes raking over you, wanting to take in every inch, but he tried not to—respecting you.
"How many conversations done turned into full blown debates in yo friend group."
"Too damn many." You leaned back in the chair, recalling many, many debates.
"Well I shall not traumatize you any further."
"Id appreciate it pretty boy."
You froze.
The words slipped out before you could stop them—you couldn't tell who's face was redder his or yours. He was quite amused, but the tips of his ears were a crimson red.
Your face was burning, but nonetheless you played it off pretty smoothly.
Something flickered across his face, too quick to catch.
The corner of his mouth was twitched up in a poor attempt to hide his composure, you giggled cause it was cute, it really was.
"You ain't too bad yourself miss Ivory."
His words rolled off his tongue like water on suede. He might've had that cute boy act down packed, but after that comment he didn't fool you, he knew what he was doing.
The way he cocked his head slightly, catching your eye, or the way his knee would brush against yours in the shared, tiny space under the table.
"Well you on break ? How'd you have the time to come help her out today."
He nodded eagerly. He was becoming more and more like his grandmother with every topic—he listened and completely immersed himself into the conversation no matter how small. He was easy to talk to.
It was even easier to get lost in his eyes, they sparkled slightly every-time he spoke, stomach a fluttery mess.
"Yes and no, something happened with the pipes under the school, and we had to all leave the campus, so basically a break, Ill take it though, I had Calculus all this week, sick of that shit man for real."
He had a way of bringing out laughs from deep within, his tone sounded genuinely over it.
"Yo ass laughing and Im so serious right now, Id rather eat the calculator than use it like fuckk."
"Eat the calc is nuts Joshua omg."
"Listen if you seen them equations you would too, I be ready to walk out the class like I ain't pay to be there, its blasphemous honestly."
Your sides were hurting from laughing, he was really a trip.
"I can't believe you think Im being funny, and I'm out here fighting for my life over some dam numbers."
Straightening up, you wiped an actual tear that fell. You'd been with him a few hours and he some how laughed you to tears.
"Nah I know you being for real that's what's funny, like boy please."
His smile stretched ear to ear as he sat across from you, shaking his head slightly.
-
You found your eyes drifting back to the painting on the back wall.
"Oh shit it got dark."
You jumped up gathering your things.
"Im sorry I just hate walking home in the dark, it was really nice meeting you Joshua, will you be here tomorrow ?"
"Woah woah slow down Ivory, let me walk you home, cant have your pretty self out in these streets like that."
He was grabbing his keys as he said that last part not thinking you heard him, ohh but you did. A stupid ditzy grin on your face.
"Its about time to lock up anyways, its been raining all day, ain't nobody coming in-
He deadpanned toward you
"Well except yo ass."
"If you don't come on, I got a hot shower and a glass of wine waiting on me."
He let out a breathy laugh through his nose, canines shining in the dark.
He finished locking the outside of the library, pulling the gate down, he locked that too. You watched him out of your peripheral. The way his muscles moved against the button down was delicious, moving like a silent storm.
"Why do you walk to and from work anyways."
He asked standing as you lead the way.
"You see that brick building down the street ?"
He nodded.
"That's me."
"Oh shit you work and live on the same block that's pretty cool."
"Until your me and have to walk home in the dark."
He frowned pondering the question for a second.
"Did something happen?"
"Nothing too too crazy but this guy followed me from the library back to my place after I declined giving him my number. He didn't do anything just walked past me. I just hate my slow ass didn't notice him until I reached my building."
"So he knows you stay there."
"Yea unfortunately, I called the cops though the same night and gave a description, but thankfully this street is pretty uneventful."
He held the umbrella up for the two of you as the rain poured around y'all, a curtain of safety.
He was quite taller than you even slowing his strides so you wouldn't come from under the umbrella.
" I'll tell you what as long as Im here you fasho not walking by yourself, you basically been family the way you been checking in on our granny."
"That's sweet Josh, but you really don't have to, its literally right here."
And just like that the two of you were in front of your building, standing in between cars parked on the side of the street.
"Im assuming my nana makes you leave when its still light outside, so if you gon come yap my damn ear off again, shed kill me if I didn't make sure you got hime safe."
You swatted his chest playfully.
"You enjoyed my yapping and you know it."
"I did."
"And you only walking me home cause yo granny would be mad not because you want to and im not going to make you do that."
"Nah...I want to."
His eyes were locked onto yours, despite the warm summer rain a chill went up your spine.
He moved slowly, like he was asking for permission at first. His fingers went to your locs, tucking a few of them behind your ear.
Face on fire, mouth parted open, you didnt know what to say or how to make your legs move.
He chuckled deeply, eventually reaching for your hand. He lifted a perfectly pedicured hand to his lips, brushing across your knuckles like a cloud.
His eyes did not leave yours, bearing holes into your soul.
All breath gone from yours lungs.
"Is it ok if I get your number miss Ivory."
He had way too much control, had you out in between these peoples cars floating on could 9 because of this man, and that sexy ass half smirk he keeps doing.
Snatching his phone put his pocket, you quickly turned it to his face to unlock it, punching in your number, you tucked it back in his pocket.
He had froze the second you took it out.
Got his ass.
Brushing your lips against his cheek you made your way to the entrance, an extra sway in your hips.
"Damn"
Was all he whispered under his breathe, you didn't turn around not once, hips moving to their own rhythm.
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