Archen

24 F and BL Lover/ Fanfic Writer/ Black is Beautiful😔💕

[sgecat]

This is why we create black spaces. It’s not to be weird or shady; it’s because we genuinely don’t know who’s in our corner or rather taking advantage of our creativity and profiting from it.

This is my very important reminder to PLEASE support our black writers. We’ve been marginalized enough. We love to share with the world, but it’s hard when writers like these take from us without giving any kind of consideration and recognition.

That is all we ask.

[blkkbratt]

SHE WASN’T BLACK?!?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

👀👀 ☕️

[zunibugsiren]

Just so y’all know I AM A BLACK WOMAN! BLACK! I’m over here seeing so called BLACK authors cosplay as black and I’m so scared omfg why?!!!PEOPLE ARE SO WEIRD😭

[unusual-suspects]

x

[achillesinhighheels]

[achillesinhighheels]

[lovergirlcinema]

currently working on a new John Wick x black!reader story, and it’s looking good so far. Based on a request! Let’s just say, she’s a dancer and John likes what he sees😏…

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[othermotherchild-deactivated202]

|MR. PRESIDENT| - 3

Annie Moore x Elijah “Smoke” Moore

She never thought she’d see him again… He never forgot she was his. From heartbreak to heartbreak, Annie Moore has survived it all. Until the man she once loved returns—older, darker, untouchable. And now, he rules the country. He wants her safe. He wants her to be obedient. And she? She wants him to fight for her—without losing herself in his fire. Desire, danger, and power collide in a game neither of them can walk away from.

Content Warning: Dark romance, powerplay, brat Annie, dom/sub dynamics, violence, obsession.

Annie stared at Stack like she was still trying to make sense of him standing there.

Out here. Of all places.

Her body stayed tense, ready to bolt if she had to, but Stack didn’t move closer. He didn’t crowd her space. He stayed where he was, hands still in his pockets, posture easy like he wasn’t here to drag her back or lecture her.

“Relax,” he said quietly. “I ain’t here to grab you up.”

Annie let out a sharp breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Then what you doin’ here, Stack?”

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. Not judgmental. Just… thoughtful. “Honestly? I wanted to make sure you was good.”

She scoffed, looking away toward the dark swings. “I’m sittin’ on a playground bench in the middle of the night after sneakin’ out the White House. You tell me.”

A corner of Stack’s mouth lifted, but it faded just as quick. He stepped closer this time, slow, and sat on the opposite end of the bench, leaving space between them. “You always been stubborn,” he said. “Still don’t know when to sit your ass still.”

Annie shot him a look. “And you always been nosy.”

He chuckled softly. “Fair.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds, thick but not uncomfortable. Then Stack sighed, elbows resting on his knees. “You probably think I’m about to hold this over your head. Use it to scare you back.”

Annie didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it either.

“I ain’t doin’ that,” he continued. “Your family. Always been.”

Her jaw tightened at that. “Family don’t lock you in gilded cages.”

Stack nodded slowly. “You right.”

That surprised her enough that she looked back at him. He met her eyes without flinching. “You got every right to be mad, Annie. Every right to feel like you ain’t got a choice right now. ‘Cause truth is… you don’t. Not yet.”

Her chest tightened. “That’s the part everybody keep skippin’ over.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

He leaned back against the bench, eyes lifting toward the sky. “But I need you to hear me on somethin’. Over the last eight years, I been with Smoke every day. I seen him when nobody else around. I seen him when he was breakin’. I seen him when he was tryin’ to be better.”

Annie laughed, sharp and humorless. “Better for who?”

“For you,” Stack said immediately. “Always been for you.”

She shook her head. “If that was true, he wouldn’t have left the way he did. Wouldn’t have came back like this. Wouldn’t be makin’ decisions for me instead of with me.”

Stack turned to her then, really looked at her. “You think he don’t know he fucked up?”

“That don’t fix nothin’,” Annie snapped.

“No,” Stack agreed. “But it explain why he ain’t bowin’ anymore.”

She frowned. “What that supposed to mean?”

Stack’s voice dropped. “The Smoke you remember? The one who would’ve licked the ground you walked on if you asked?” He shook his head. “That man died a long time ago.”

Annie’s throat went tight.

“This Smoke?” Stack continued. “He learned real quick that bein’ soft get shit taken from you. Before all this politics mess—before the suits and speeches—he was deep in underground work. Way deeper than you ever knew. He did things he can’t undo. Made choices that hardened him.”

He looked back at her. “And now you testin’ that man.”

Annie stiffened. “By wantin’ to breathe?”

“By sneakin’ out the White House,” Stack corrected gently. “By slappin’ him. By challengin’ him when he already feel like the world tryna take you from him.”

She swallowed. “So what, I’m just supposed to submit?”

“No,” Stack said firmly. “You supposed to choose.”

She laughed bitterly. “Sure don’t feel like one.”

He leaned closer, voice low but steady. “I ain’t snitchin’ on you. I won’t tell him you got out. This between me and you.”

That made her pause.

“But hear me,” Stack said. “This Smoke? He don’t chase the same way. He don’t beg. And he damn sure don’t let go.”

Annie stared at the ground, emotions twisting in her chest. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted quietly. “Not like this.”

Stack nodded. “Then don’t decide tonight.”

He stood, brushing off his jacket. “Just know whatever you do next? Do it with your eyes open. ‘Cause this man ain’t the one you left behind.”

He looked down at her one last time. “Choose wisely, Annie.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone on that bench—free for the moment, but standing at the edge of something far more dangerous than she’d ever escaped from before.

Annie slipped back into the White House the same way she left it—quiet, careful, heart still thudding in her ears. The halls were empty, lights low, everything too still. She moved fast, memory guiding her feet, until she finally reached her door.

Once inside, she closed it softly and leaned against it, letting out a heavy sigh. Her shoulders sagged like the night finally caught up to her. For a second, she allowed herself to breathe.

Then she turned.

Her heart jumped straight into her throat.

Elijah sat in the armchair near the window.

Leaning back.

Comfortable.

His thick legs were spread wide, one ankle hooked slightly back like he’d been there a while. A cigar burned slow between his fingers, smoke curling lazily through the dim room. In his other hand was a glass of whiskey, amber catching the light. His eyes—hard, dark, unreadable—never left her face.

“Lock the door,” he said calmly.

Annie didn’t move.

“Elijah—”

“Lock. The door.”

Something in his tone stopped her cold. Not loud. Not angry. Just final. She swallowed and did as she was told, the soft click echoing louder than it should have.

When she turned back, he was still watching her. Studying her. Like he was deciding something.

“You enjoy your walk?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened. “I needed air.”

He took a slow drag of his cigar, exhaled through his nose. “Funny place to get it.”

She crossed her arms. “You followed me?”

“No,” he said evenly. “I waited.”

That sent a shiver through her.

He set the whiskey down on the side table but didn’t stand. Didn’t rush. His patience felt deliberate—dangerous. “You ever notice,” he said, “how you only run when you think you won’t get caught?”

Annie bristled. “I’m not a child.”

His eyes darkened at that. “Tonight,” he said quietly, “you acted like one.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

“You slapped me,” Elijah continued. “You disappeared from a secured building. You had people scrambling, guards panicking, Stack lying for you.” His jaw tightened. “And you think I wasn’t gonna address that?”

Her voice shook, but she held his gaze. “You don’t get to control me.”

Slowly—finally—he stood.

The room felt smaller instantly.

“I don’t control you,” he said, taking a step closer. “But don’t confuse that with me letting things slide.”

He stopped a few feet away, towering now, presence filling every corner of the room. “This ain’t about desire,” he said. “This about respect. And consequences.”

Annie’s breath came shallow. “You’ve never—”

“I know,” he cut in. “And that’s why you’re standing right there instead of already apologizing.”

He tilted his head, eyes burning into hers. “You testing me, Annie. And tonight, I’m drawing a line.”

He glanced toward the bed. Then back to her.

“Come here,” he said.

Not raised. Not rushed.

But unmistakable.

Her feet carried her forward, but her pulse hammered unevenly, a staccato rhythm against her ribs. The air between them felt charged, thick with the scent of his cigar and the warmth of whiskey lingering between them. Elijah didn’t move, didn’t blink—just watched her approach with that same unnerving stillness, like a predator waiting for prey to step into range.

When she stopped in front of him, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, he exhaled slowly.

“You ever think,” he murmured, voice low enough to raise goosebumps along her arms, “about what happens when you push me too far?” His fingers brushed her hip, feather-light, yet it sent a shudder through her. Not fear. Anticipation.

Annie refused to look him in the eyes, staring instead at the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat steady—too steady for the storm she knew was coming. His hand slid up, calloused fingers rough against her skin as they curled around her jaw.

“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.” The command was velvet-wrapped steel. She lifted her chin, defiant even as his grip tightened just shy of pain.

She tried to twist away, shoulders tensing, but Elijah merely shifted his stance, his other arm hooking behind her waist and hauling her flush against him. The sudden press of his body—unyielding, warm, all hard muscle and restrained power—made her breath hitch.

“That attitude used to get you kissed,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Tonight, it gets corrected.”

Then, with a grip that brooked no argument, he turned her around, hands guiding her hips forward until the edge of the bed pressed into her thighs. She stiffened, fingers digging into the mattress as his palm settled firmly between her shoulder blades. “Bend,” he ordered, and when she hesitated, he applied just enough pressure to send her torso lowering—slow, deliberate, her breath coming faster with every inch she descended.

The air shifted behind her, fabric rustling before the sharp, unmistakable sound of his belt buckle being undone sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants, dragging them down in one smooth motion—revealing the red lace beneath, delicate against the flush of her skin. The sight made him exhale sharply, cigar smoke curling from his lips as he growled low in his throat.

“This what you wore when you snuck out?” His voice was rough, knuckles skimming the lace, pressing just hard enough for her to feel the heat of his touch through the thin material.

Then—his palm traced the curve of her ass, slow, deliberate, savoring the way her breath hitched at the contact. His fingers flexed, gripping the soft flesh almost possessively before pulling back. The smack landed sharp and sudden, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot. Annie’s voice hitched, a startled gasp punched from her lungs as heat bloomed across her skin.

“Smoke,” she breathed, surprised—the scent of his cigar suddenly thick in her nose, mingling with the sting radiating through her.

Then he did it again. This time on the other side. Harder. The impact jolted her forward, her palms sliding against the sheets as her knees dug into the mattress. The second strike burned brighter, deeper, the ache settling low in her belly, twisting something tight inside her. Elijah exhaled roughly behind her, his hand lingering—pressing into the warmth he’d left behind, fingers tracing the edges of the sting.

“Count,” he ordered, voice gravel-dark.

She clenched her jaw. “One.”

The next strike landed higher, just below the curve of her waistband, the sharp slap echoing off the walls. Heat flared instantly, radiating outward in waves that made her thighs tense. The scent of his cigar clung to her skin now, mingling with the sharp tang of her own sweat—punishment and arousal twisted together in the thick air. “Two,” she gritted out, voice wavering as his fingertips brushed the blooming redness, assessing, possessive.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t speak. Just let the silence stretch, heavy with the weight of her disobedience and his resolve. When his palm connected again—lower this time, right where thigh met ass—the sound was wetter, sharper. Annie gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as the pain licked up her spine, molten and undeniable. Smoke curled past her shoulder as Elijah leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “Three,” he prompted, low and rough, like the numbers themselves were a lesson.

The room was too small suddenly, the walls pressing in, the air thick with whiskey and sweat and the heady musk of his cologne. Annie’s chest tightened, lungs burning as she fought to steady her breathing. Every inhale carried the scent of him—tobacco, leather, something darker beneath—until it was all she could taste. His fingers flexed against her skin, possessive and punishing, and she realized with a jolt that she was arching into it, her body betraying her even as her pride bristled.

She told herself she was angry. That she was justified. But underneath it was something colder—realization. She had crossed a line without knowing where it was. And he had known exactly where it stood the whole time. Annie swallowed hard, realizing she wasn’t just upset about being confined, or lied to, or watched. She was shaken because he wasn’t bending. Not even a little.

Elijah’s next hit landed harder—too hard—the crack of his palm against her skin sharp enough to make her cry out. The sting radiated outward, turning her legs weak, but she held firm, fingers digging deeper into the sheets.

"Every move you made tonight," he growled, his voice rough with something that wasn’t just anger. "I already replayed it." His fingers traced the outline of his handprint, pressing just enough to draw a whimper from her throat.

"Every lie. Every smirk. Every goddamn step you took thinking you wouldn’t get caught."

His breath hitched—almost imperceptibly—when her body arched into his touch, her silence louder than any protest.

"You knew the rules," he murmured, fingers tightening against the heated skin. "You knew the risks." His thumb dragged down the curve of her ass, slow and deliberate, before his palm cracked down again.

"And you still did it." The sound of his belt sliding free filled the room, leather whispering against fabric before the cold metal of the buckle grazed her thigh.

"I expected better judgment from my wife."

She flinched at the title—his wife—spoken like a challenge, like a promise. The belt folded in his grip, his knuckles brushing the small of her back as he stepped away, just far enough to survey his work. The flush blooming across her skin mirrored the storm in his chest, the way she trembled—not from fear, but from the same current of tension that had his jaw clenched tight. He inhaled sharply, the scent of her arousal mingling with leather and smoke.

"I warned you," he reminded her, voice low and rough, "that disrespect has consequences."

The first strike landed with a crack that sent her lurching forward, the burn igniting instantly. Annie gasped, fingers scrabbling against the sheets, her body bolting upright—instinct screaming at her to run. Elijah's hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck with a growl. "Ah-ah," he murmured, pressing her down again with effortless strength, her spine arching under his palm. "Lay that ass back down." The command brooked no argument, his fingers flexing against her nape just shy of pain.

She tensed—not to escape, but to brace, her breath hitching when his belt whispered against her skin again. "You wanted to feel in control," he mused, voice dark with amusement as the leather traced the curve of her thigh, "now you gonna sit there and take it?" The question hung between them, loaded. The second strike landed lower, harder, the impact shuddering through her with a sharp cry torn from her lips. His fingers tightened in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to catch the flush creeping down her neck.

She wanted to snap back—wanted to twist away and spit defiance even as her skin burned where he'd marked her. But the urge coiled tighter in her gut, twisting into something hotter when his thumb brushed the dampness at her temple.

"That's it," he murmured, pressing the belt flat against the throbbing heat of her ass, savoring her flinch. "Let it out." The third strike cracked across both cheeks, the pain blooming so deep she sobbed into the sheets, fingers twisting tight enough to tear fabric.

Elijah's breath was ragged now, the scent of her arousal thick between them, undeniable. He dragged the belt slowly down the backs of her thighs, watching the way her muscles trembled, how her hips twitched—not away, but deeper into the sting. "Four," he prompted, voice wrecked. When she choked it out, he exhaled sharply, tossing the belt aside with a clatter that made her flinch. His palm replaced it instantly, kneading the abused flesh with a roughness that wrenched another gasp from her lips.

"God, look at you," he growled, fingers digging in just to feel her shudder.

Then he gave three back to back—hard, fast, ruthless. The first smack jerked her forward with a cry, the second made her knees buckle, the third had her arching off the bed with a sob. "Fuck—smoke," Annie whined out, the words broken, her face pressed into the sheets where his cigar had left its scent.

Her thighs clenched, slickness undeniable now, her body trembling not from pain but from the way his fingers traced each welt, possessive and hungry. Elijah groaned low in his throat, his own control fraying at the edges as he dragged his knuckles down the crease of her ass, slow and deliberate.

And with one final hit—sharp, measured, lingering—he released her. The tension shattered like glass. Annie collapsed forward, gasping, the sheets damp beneath her cheek where sweat and tears had pooled. Elijah exhaled sharply, tossing the belt aside with a clatter that echoed in the sudden quiet.

The room stayed still for a moment after. Not heavy—just quiet. His fingers flexed once, twice, as if shaking off the last remnants of restraint. Then, with a rough sound in his throat, he flipped her around, hauling her upright by the hips until she was eye-level with his belt buckle, her knees sinking into the mattress. Her breath hitched—expectant, defiant, her lashes damp with tears she refused to let fall.

Elijah cupped her chin, tilting her face up until she couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, rough against her split lip where she’d bitten down too hard. “You alright?” The question wasn’t soft. Wasn’t gentle. Just raw—honest in a way that scraped against her skin like gravel. A pause. “I ain’t askin’ to hear what I wanna hear.” His grip tightened, just enough to make her gasp. “I’m askin’ for real.”

She swallowed. Nodded.

Elijah's fingers tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who was holding who. "Words, Mama," he repeated, voice rough, dark eyes pinning her in place. His thumb pressed into the hinge of her jaw, forcing her mouth open just enough to feel the ghost of his cigar lingering between them. "Say it."

She sucked in a breath—sharp, ragged—before forcing the words past her lips. "I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter, sticking to her tongue like ash. She could feel it then—how carefully he was watching her now, studying the way her pulse fluttered against his fingertips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the rumpled fabric of her shirt. His gaze traced every twitch, every flicker of defiance and exhaustion warring behind her eyes.

"Next time you wanna run," he said, voice low but calm, "you come to me first, even if you mad." The words weren't a plea—they were an order, wrapped in smoke and whiskey, rough enough to make her shiver. His thumb dragged across her lower lip, pressing just enough to feel the tremor she couldn't hide.

"Even if you hate me. Even if you think I ain't gonna listen." His grip shifted, fingers sliding into her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back further. "You come to me."

She swallowed hard, the taste of salt and iron still clinging to her tongue. His palm cradled the back of her head now, firm but not harsh—anchoring, like he knew her knees were shaking even if she refused to admit it. "I ain't lettin' you fall apart alone. Not ever." The promise hit harder than the belt had, knocking the breath from her lungs. Elijah never made promises lightly.

Annie woke up slow, the kind of slow where her body registered everything before her mind caught up. The sheets were too soft, the room too quiet. Then the soreness hit her all at once, low and undeniable, pulling a groan from deep in her chest as she shifted.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered to herself, dropping her face back into the pillow.

She rolled onto her side—and froze.

Tina stood near the window, clipboard tucked neatly under her arm. Elise was beside her, hands folded, posture polite and unreadable. Both of them already dressed, already prepared, already ahead of her.

Annie groaned again. “Here we go,” she said under her breath.

Tina turned at the sound, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes lingered just a second too long on Annie’s face. It was that look—measured, assessing—that made Annie squint back at her.

“What?” Annie asked, eyebrow lifting. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

Tina cleared her throat lightly. “Mr. Moore left instructions this morning.”

That alone was enough to make Annie sit up straighter, ignoring the protest from her body. “Of course he did.”

Tina didn’t rise to the tone. “You are no longer confined to the White House,” she said evenly. “Effective immediately.”

Annie blinked. Once. Twice. “Say that again.”

“You are free to leave the grounds today,” Tina repeated. Then, with a slight shift of her clipboard, she added, “Mr. Moore has instructed that you take a self-care day.”

That stopped Annie cold.

“A… what?”

“A full day,” Tina continued, professional as ever, “beginning with a private appointment at the Élysian Spa. Massage, soak, facial—the full treatment. Afterward, a curated shopping experience has been arranged. Discrete locations. Secure transport.”

Elise smiled softly at that, like she already knew exactly what that day would look like.

Annie leaned back against the headboard, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “So,” she said slowly, “he locks me down,… then sends me to a spa?”

Tina allowed herself the smallest hint of a smile. “Mr. Moore believes in… balance.”

Annie huffed. “That man is unbelievable.”

But even as she said it, part of her chest loosened. The tight coil she’d been carrying since the night before eased just a little. Not because she forgave him. Not because everything was fine.

But because—damn it—he saw her.

Elise stepped forward gently. “Shall I prepare your bath, Mrs. Moore?” she asked. “Something warm. Relaxing.”

Annie closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “That sounds real good right now.”

Annie stepped out of her room pulling the door shut behind her, already halfway annoyed.

She was clean, dressed, hair done just enough to pass, body still sore in places she didn’t feel like thinkin’ about. The bath helped some, but it didn’t fix shit. She just wanted out. A few hours where nobody was watchin’ her breathe.

She walked down the hall with purpose.

That’s when she clocked it.

Footsteps behind her. More than one.

She didn’t stop, just sighed. “Don’t tell me y’all finna do this all day.”

Tina’s voice came calm and measured from behind. “Mrs. Moore—”

“I’m goin’ to the spa,” Annie cut in. “Not runnin’ for my life.”

Still, she felt them close in. Suits. Presence. That quiet pressure she was starting to hate.

By the time she reached the doors, her jaw was tight.

Then she saw him.

Sammie stood outside like he’d been there all morning. Hands loose at his sides, weight on one leg, eyes already on her. When their gazes met, his face softened just a little.

“There you is, ma,” he said.

Her shoulders dropped before she could stop it. “Boy,” she muttered, walking straight toward him. “You just be poppin’ up wherever now.”

He smiled, small and familiar. “Kinda my job.”

She hooked her arm through his like she’d done a hundred times before, grounding herself. “You knew I was finna lose my damn mind if they kept hoverin’.”

Sammie glanced past her at the guards. His voice didn’t change, but the tone did. “I got her.”

No arguing. No looks. Just a salute and they peeled off.

Annie watched them go, then shook her head. “Since when folks listen to you like that?”

He shrugged. “Since they had to.”

They started walking.

Annie kept her eyes ahead. “So what, you babysittin’ me now?”

He snorted. “You ain’t never been the type to sit still long enough for that.”

She looked up at him. “Then what is this, Sammie?”

He slowed just a bit. “I’m head of security.”

“For the White House,” she said flatly.

“For you,” he corrected.

She stopped walking.

Turned to him slowly. “You serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

She studied his face. No jokes. No teasing. Just truth. “So Smoke really did all this.”

Sammie didn’t answer right away. “He did what he thought was necessary.”

Annie huffed. “That sounds like his favorite excuse.”

Sammie met her eyes. “Ma… I know you mad. I know you hurt. But don’t make today harder than it already is.”

She held his gaze a second longer, then nodded once. “Fine. But I ain’t disappearin’ into this life like I don’t exist.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” he said quietly.

That did it.

She tightened her arm around his and started walking again. “Alright then. Take me to this fancy-ass spa.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

body was loose, skin glowing, mind quieter than it had been in days. The tension didn’t disappear completely—it never did—but it softened enough that she could stand up straight without feeling like she was bracing for something. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and took a slow breath.

Then she looked up.

The mall was empty.

No shoppers. No noise. No wandering kids or chatter bouncing off the high ceilings. Just polished floors, storefront lights glowing, and silence so clean it almost echoed.

Annie slowed. “Uh,” she said, turning toward Sammie. “Why it look like we broke in here?”

Sammie didn’t look surprised. Not even a little. “Smoke had it cleared for the day.”

She blinked. “The whole mall?”

“Yes, ma.”

Annie let out a short breath through her nose and nodded once, like she didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction of reacting. “Of course he did.”

They started walking again, her heels tapping softly against the floor. She took a few steps before her phone buzzed in her hand.

Annie froze.

She glanced down at the screen.

Smoke.

For a second, she just stared at his name. Then she unlocked the phone.

You good? Eat somethin’. Don’t skip meals.

Her chest tightened in a way she didn’t ask for.

She didn’t smile—but something in her eased. Just for a moment. Like muscle memory kicking in before she could stop it.

She typed back.

I’m fine. At the mall.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

I know.

She shook her head softly, half-annoyed, half… something else.

You didn’t have to clear the whole place, she sent.

This time, the response took longer.

I wanted you to breathe.

Annie stared at the screen longer than she meant to.

Then she locked the phone and slipped it back into her bag. “Alright,” she muttered to herself. “Let’s get this over with.”

She squared her shoulders and stepped toward the first store, confidence settling back into her walk. Sammie stayed close but not hovering, letting her move at her own pace.

And as Annie disappeared into racks of fabric and quiet luxury, one thing was clear—

Even when she tried to push him away, Smoke was still right there. Watching. Waiting.

The mall cafeteria was just as empty as the rest of the place.

Lights hummed softly overhead, chairs still pushed neatly under tables, the smell of food lingering without the noise that usually came with it. Annie sat at one of the small round tables near the window, a tray in front of her she’d barely touched. Sammie sat across from her, elbows resting easy, posture relaxed but alert like it always was.

Tina stood a few steps off to the side, giving them space without ever really leaving. Clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes moving now and then, but she didn’t interrupt.

For a moment, Annie just stared at her food.

“You gon’ eat that?” Sammie asked lightly.

She huffed a small laugh. “Eventually.”

He shook his head. “You always say that.”

“Because you always rush me,” she shot back, finally picking up her fork.

They ate in silence for a few beats. Not awkward. Just familiar. The kind that didn’t need fillin’.

Annie glanced up at him. “So… how long you been head of security?”

Sammie leaned back in his chair. “Officially? Few months. Unofficially?” He shrugged. “Feels like forever.”

She nodded slowly. “You growin’ up on me.”

He smiled at that. “Somebody had to.”

Her expression softened, just a little. “You ain’t have to carry all this though.”

Sammie’s smile faded, replaced by something steadier. “I wanted to.”

That sat between them for a moment.

Annie poked at her food again. “I don’t like how all this happened,” she said quietly. “Feels like my life got picked up and dropped somewhere else without askin’ me.”

“I know,” he said. No arguing. No correcting.

She looked up, surprised. “You do?”

“I seen you these last eight years,” Sammie said. “I know how hard you worked to get your peace back. Ain’t nobody blind to that.”

Her throat tightened. She swallowed. “Then why it feel like everybody expect me to just fall in line?”

Sammie leaned forward. “They don’t know you like I do.”

Tina shifted slightly but stayed silent.

Annie sighed. “Smoke thinkin’ he do.”

Sammie didn’t respond right away. He studied her face, like he was choosing his words careful. “He different now, ma,” he said finally. “But that don’t mean you wrong for feelin’ how you feel.”

She met his eyes. “You ain’t gon’ tell him everything I say, right?”

He shook his head immediately. “I ain’t his mouthpiece.”

That eased her some.

She sat back, crossing her arms. “I just need time.”

“I know,” Sammie said. Then softer, “Just don’t disappear again.”

Her gaze flicked to his. “You sayin’ that as security or family?”

He held her eyes. “Both.”

Annie nodded once. “Alright.”

She finally took a real bite of her food, chewing slow. Outside the window, sunlight spilled across the empty walkway.

For the first time since all this started, Annie didn’t feel like she was bein’ watched.

She felt… heard.

Meanwhile, deep underground, the city didn’t exist.

Concrete walls pressed in on all sides, thick and damp, carrying the hum of generators and the echo of old footsteps. Smoke stood near the crate, jacket off now, sleeves rolled. His posture was loose, but his eyes stayed sharp. Stack paced beside him, restless as ever, knuckles cracking out of habit.

Footsteps hit the floor—steady, familiar.

Bo Chow came through the shadows like he always had. No rush. No hesitation. Same man who ran the streets with them when they were boys, just dressed better now. His button-down was open at the collar, chain catching the light.

“Damn,” Stack said, grinning wide. “Look at you. Still walk like you own the ground.”

Bo smirked. “Somebody gotta.”

Smoke stepped forward, and they met in the middle—no words, just a solid, chest-to-chest hug. Arms locked tight, brief but heavy. The kind of hug that said we made it without ever saying it out loud.

“Been a minute, Smoke,” Bo said. “Thought power might slow you down.”

Smoke scoffed. “Nah. Just made me smarter.”

Bo’s laugh was quiet. “Same here.”

Two men set the crate down and stepped back. Stack wasted no time, popping it open.

The shine hit his face.

“Shiiit,” Stack muttered, low and impressed. He lifted one of the guns, weighing it. “This ain’t street. This grown-man business.”

Bo chuckled. “You always did like nice things.”

Stack tilted his head. “You always did deliver.”

They moved to the table. Bo pulled his shirt off like it was nothing, tossing it aside. Ink covered his arms—old tattoos, layered over time. Nothing flashy. Everything earned.

Smoke’s eyes flicked over them once. “You still collectin’ stories on your skin.”

Bo shrugged. “Better than collectin’ scars.”

They cracked open beers and sat.

Stack leaned back, bottle resting on his chest. “Crazy how we started with nothin’. Sleeping in basements. Running packs we couldn’t even afford to lose.”

Bo nodded. “We learned early. Trust was currency.”

Smoke took a slow drink. “And weakness got you buried.”

Silence fell for a beat—not awkward, just real.

“You remember that dock job?” Bo said. “Thought we wasn’t walkin’ outta that one.”

Stack laughed. “Man, you froze up.”

Bo shot him a look. “I ain’t freeze. I calculated.”

Smoke smirked. “You always did think slower than you fought.”

Bo leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Yeah. But I’m still here.”

That sat heavy between them.

Three boys who survived long enough to become men nobody touched without permission.

Bo reached for another bottle, sliding it across the table. “Aight,” he said, voice low, familiar. “Enough talk.”

He lifted his beer.

“Let’s drink.”

Bo leaned back in his chair, beer untouched now, forearms resting on the table. The ink on his arms looked darker under the lights, older somehow. When he spoke, his voice slowed, thickened—not louder, just heavier, like every word had already been tested in his head.

“World different now,” Bo said. “Not just louder. Different. When we was boys, we ran underground because we had to. Now? Underground run because it want permission.”

Stack scoffed under his breath, shifting in his seat. “Permission from who?”

Bo glanced at him. “From you,” he said simply. Then his eyes slid back to Smoke. “From him.”

Smoke didn’t react. He didn’t need to.

Bo continued, warming into it. “You sittin’ in a chair people been killin’ for generations. That change how business breathe. Borders ain’t just lines no more—they contracts. Laws ain’t walls, they tools. Everybody lookin’ for angles they can’t buy.”

He took a slow drink, then set the bottle down. “I ain’t here bringin’ you product. I’m bringin’ you insulation.”

Stack leaned forward, grin sharp. “Man, I don’t want insulation. I want leverage.”

Bo smiled faintly. “That is leverage.”

He tapped the table once, steady. “You don’t move loud no more. You move legal. Charities. Clinics. Infrastructure. Things that make senators feel clean when they shake your hand. You don’t stop the underground—you redirect it.”

Stack shook his head. “That sound like dressin’ shit up.”

“It is,” Bo said calmly. “That’s how you win.”

He turned fully toward Smoke now, voice lower. “Old crews don’t know how to deal with that. They understand fear. They don’t understand policy. You let me be the bridge. I keep the dirt where it belong. You keep your hands clean.”

Stack laughed, restless. “And what if somebody don’t wanna play government?”

Bo’s smile disappeared. “Then you let them remind everybody else why this deal exist.”

Smoke finally moved, folding his hands together, eyes unreadable.

Bo finished quietly, deliberate. “This ain’t about survival anymore. This about control without noise. History without fingerprints. You already President. I’m just makin’ sure the world underneath fall in line.”

The room went still.

Stack cracked his neck, half-smiling, half-hungry. “Say less. Just tell me when.”

Bo reached for the beer again, lifting it slightly toward them. “First,” he said, voice easing just a notch, “we drink.”

They lifted their bottles at the same time and took a slow sip. Glass touched lips. Beer went down easy. For a moment, it felt almost like old times—three men sharing a quiet pause before the next move.

Then Bo’s expression shifted.

It was subtle, just a slight narrowing of his eyes, the corner of his mouth tightening like a thought finally deciding to speak. He lowered his bottle and looked straight at Smoke, studying him the way he always had—like he was reading past the suit, past the title, straight into the boy he grew up with.

“So,” Bo said casually, like it was nothing, “how Annie handlin’ her new position?”

Stack lost it instantly. He barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “Nah—nah, you wild for that,” he said, wiping his mouth. “That’s how you openin’ that conversation?”

Smoke’s head snapped up.

His glare hit Stack first—sharp, warning, absolute. The room shifted with it. Stack’s grin faltered just enough to show he knew he’d crossed something real.

Bo didn’t laugh.

He stayed calm, eyes still on Smoke, unbothered by the tension blooming at the table. He’d seen that look before. Knew what it meant. Knew when to push and when to stand still.

Stack leaned back slowly, hands lifting in mock surrender. “Aight, aight,” he said, tone lighter but cautious now. “I’m just sayin’. Man asked a question.”

Smoke didn’t respond right away. He set his bottle down carefully, jaw tight, silence stretching heavy between them. The underground hummed around them, concrete holding its breath.

Bo finally leaned back, breaking eye contact, voice even. “Just curious,” he said. “No disrespect.”

The laughter was gone. The warmth with it.

Smoke didn’t look away this time.

He leaned back in his chair, shoulders settling, voice low and honest in a way he rarely allowed. “She’s handlin’ it,” he said. “Ain’t easy. Pressure’s different when everybody watchin’, when every move gotta mean somethin’. But she steady. Smarter than folks give her credit for.”

Bo listened without interrupting, head slightly tilted, eyes calm. No judgment. Just taking it in.

“I heard,” Bo said after a beat, nodding slowly, “she got herself a clinic.”

Stack’s brows shot up. “See?” he said, pointing between them. “This what I’m talkin’ about. How everybody know everybody business but me?”

Bo ignored him. “Clinic’s a good start,” he went on, tone thoughtful. “Means she thinkin’ long-term. Means she want roots, not headlines.”

Smoke’s jaw tightened just a touch. He didn’t deny it.

Bo rolled the bottle between his hands, eyes drifting to the concrete floor like he was already mapping something bigger. “If she that homesick,” he said casually, “just buy her a hospital.”

The words landed heavy.

Smoke went still.

Not angry. Not defensive. Thinking. His gaze dropped, unfocused now, mind clearly somewhere else—numbers, logistics, possibilities clicking into place whether he wanted them to or not.

Stack stared at both of them like they’d lost their damn minds. “Hold up,” he said, looking from Smoke to Bo and back again. “Y’all hear yourselves? A hospital? Like we talkin’ ‘bout shoes?”

Bo glanced at him, unfazed. “Same principle. Bigger building.”

Stack laughed, sharp and incredulous. “Man, y’all different now. Dangerous type of different.”

Smoke didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He just lifted his bottle again and took another slow sip, eyes distant, already weighing the cost—and knowing damn well he could afford it.

Bo watched him quietly, saying nothing more.

Some ideas didn’t need pushing.

They just needed time to grow.

@lizbehave @hdfen2474 @brownskincheyenne @blackgirlsrock444@fortheyearnerrss @underated345-blog @theegyal @caramelplug@mmbee675 @shamansha @summrsovrinterludede @bananajoeclone @solunaseira @ayishia101 @pastelprintessa @thedondada05 @mspenpushaa7 @thebumblebeesworld @lestatthelioncourt @katezy @og-goddesstrill @storiesbyasl @xeebop @margepimpson @jaeflair @katezy2x @imperoyalblue @thegreatlibraryofalex @andacouldneversilenceme @endlesslychaoticmantis @theogbadbitch @issfaith

[brownskincheyenne]

Thissssssssss is the smoke that’s showing up in this fic !! I ain’t know I needed this smoke !! When he told Annie to lock the door !! I damn near jumped out my drawls 😭😭😭… but annie ain’t wrong make him sweat & give him hell !!! Yall got to come read this neowwwwww and show love to the author @othermotherchild frennnnnnn is feeding us so well and doing the biggest one !! Thank you

[brownskincheyenne]

I don’t know what happened to this author but I miss her stories so much !!

[aidashakur]

[kkbeauty86]

New Series Alert!🚨

I wanted to write about a younger Annie and slightly older Smoke. I wanted to capture the experience of finding your first true love as an adult. I am pulling from my own experience as well as a lot of my friends. We had so much fun back in the day. 🥴😂😭 Whew! A time was definitely had.

The title of the series is called

My first Love

Inspired by the remake that Avant and Keke made.

Slightly Older Smoke

Younger Annie

Virgin Annie!

Nostalgia

Early 2000’s

Chapter 1

“Come & Talk To Me”

It’s August of 2004 in South Kansas City, Missouri.

Annie is starting her first job at Red Lobster.

She’s a senior in high school, freshly eighteen years old. Her mom and dad made it clear that if she wanted senior pictures, prom, graduation fees, class dues, yearbooks, and all the other expenses that came with being a senior, she would have to pay for them herself.

There were too many kids in the house.

Money had to stretch.

Growing up between Grandview and Raytown, Annie had lived a sheltered life. She rarely spent time in the inner city. Her dad kept her busy with school, church, chores, and helping raise her younger siblings. Most weekends were spent babysitting or cleaning instead of hanging out with friends.

At eighteen, she was still a virgin while most of her friends had already crossed that bridge years ago.

Now that she was officially an adult, her father had finally loosened the ropes a little.

Not much. Just enough.

As Annie walks through the front doors of Red Lobster, her stomach twisted with nerves and excitement.

The blast of cold air conditioning immediately hits her face.

The restaurant smells like cheddar bay biscuits, fried shrimp, butter, lemon, and seafood. A large lobster tank filled with lobsters sits in the lobby.

Glasses clink. Silverware rattles.

Servers hurry through the dining room carrying trays balance high on their shoulders.

Customers laugh from booths.

A baby cries somewhere near the front windows.

Everything feels loud.

Fast. Alive.

Annie smooths her uniform shirt and wraps her blue apron around her waist.

Her fresh wrap hangs past her shoulders, bouncing when she moves. Her lips are coated in clear gloss and her chocolate skin glows beneath the bright restaurant lights.

She was finally making her own money.

That thought alone makes her smile.

Near the host stand stands two girls wearing the same uniform.

Both blonde.

Both looking just as nervous.

One smiles.

“You starting today too?”

“Mhmm,” Annie replies.

The girl extends her hand.

“My name is Lindsey and this is Melissa.”

“My name is Annie.”

Before they can say much else, a voice calls out behind them.

“Alright ladies.”

They turn.

Standing there is a middle-aged, skinny pale woman with tired eyes and smoker’s wrinkles around her mouth.

She looks like she drank every weekend and maybe a few weekdays too.

“I’m Michelle,” she says. “Let me show you around and introduce you to everybody. Follow me.”

The girls fall in line behind her.

Michelle leads them through the dining room.

As they walk, she introduces managers, hosts, bartenders, and bus boys.

“That’s Tony.”

“That’s Chris.”

“That’s Mike.”

Everyone nods or waves.

The farther they walk, the louder things become.

Then they reach the kitchen.

The moment Annie steps through the swinging doors she nearly stops in her tracks.

The heat hits her instantly.

Steam rises from pots.

Fryers hiss.

The smell of grease and seasoning fill the air.

Orders are being shouted from every direction.

The galley sits in the middle of it all.

One side belongs to the servers and food dressers.

The other belongs to the cooks.

A narrow window separates them where finished plates slide through.

Four cooks stand on the line.

All young. All Black. All handsome.

But one stands out immediately.

He has good height.

Around six feet.

Broad shoulders.

Muscles stretching beneath his black t-shirt.

Coffee-brown skin.

Thick lips.

Sharp jawline.

Low cut with deep waves.

Looked to be twenty one or twenty two.

He’s talking to another cook when he turns his head.

The second he does, his eyes land on Annie.

His entire expression changes.

His eyes light up.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Like something had caught his attention.

Then he checks it.

Goes right back to whatever conversation he was having.

Annie notices.

And for some reason, her stomach flips.

Before she can think too much about it Michelle calls out.

“Fellas! We got some new servers starting today!”

The cooks look up.

Michelle points down the line.

“This one here is Jesse. He works the fryers.”

Jesse grins. Light skinned.

Curly hair—a product of when races mix.

Looking every bit of nineteen.

“Hello ladies.”

All three girls greet him back.

Michelle continues.

“This is Brandon. He’s one of our grill cooks.”

Brandon nods.

“Sup.”

He’s slightly chubby with a perfectly trimmed beard, cornrows.

His lips are dark from years of smoking blunts.

Still handsome though.

The way Brandon looks at the new girls makes it obvious he considers them fresh fish.

Michelle moves on.

“This is Jessie and he garnishes all the food.”

The girls laugh

“Your name Jessie too?”

He smirks.

“Yeah, but I’m the better one.”

This Jessie is dark skinned and shorter than the rest.

The entire line laughs—except Smoke.

Finally Michelle points to the last cook.

“This one here is Elijah. He can do it all. Grill, fryers, whatever’s needed.”

The cook immediately corrects her.

“Smoke.”

Michelle rolls her eyes.

“My name is Smoke.”

Michelle sighs.

“Sorry. He goes by Smoke. Which I really don’t want us calling out in the kitchen, but whatever.”

Everybody laughs

Including Annie.

Smoke doesn’t.

He just looks directly at her.

Holds her stare.

Annie’s breath catches.

The boldness of it nearly makes her look away immediately.

But she can’t.

For several seconds they simply stare at each other.

The noise of the kitchen fading.

The voices. The fryers. Everything.

Then Smoke finally breaks eye contact.

And Annie finds herself breathing again.

After introductions Michelle brings the girls back into the galley.

They are paired with veteran servers.

Annie ends up with a girl named Meagan.

Meagan couldn’t have been more than twenty.

Petite. Brown skin. Pretty face.

A short ponytail swinging behind her head.

Small but loud. Very loud.

“Come on,” Meagan says immediately.

“We moving fast around here.”

Annie hurries after her.

Meagan walks so quickly Annie almost has to jog.

“This where you get your salads.”

She points.

“This where the biscuits go.”

Points again.

“This the drink station. We get free drinks.”

Another point.

Annie blinks.

“Wait.”

Meagan laughs.

“You already lost?”

“A little.”

“Girl, don’t worry. Everybody lost their first day.”

As they walk she continues talking.

“If somebody asks you for ranch, bring two. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

“If somebody asks for extra biscuits, bring six.”

“Six?”

“Yes six. White folks love these damn biscuits.”

Annie laughs.

Meagan grins.

“And stay out the managers’ faces.”

“Why?”

“Because they crazy.”

Annie laughs harder.

By the time they return to the kitchen, Meagan has already shifted gears.

Completely.

She grabs a plate from the window.

“Aye! Where the fuck is my steak?!”

The entire kitchen looks up.

“I already got fucking fries on this plate getting cold! Hurry the fuck up!”

Brandon sucks his teeth.

“Shut the fuck up! It says well done on the ticket! You’ll get it when it’s done!”

He points toward the fryer.

“Blame Jessie ass for dropping the fries too early!”

They immediately start arguing.

Back and forth. Like siblings.

Annie stands there watching in disbelief.

She glances toward Smoke.

He’s reading tickets hanging above the line.

Calling out orders.

“Two salmon.”

“One shrimp linguine.”

“Need a medium ribeye.”

Then his eyes flicker toward her.

Again.

The look wasn’t accidental.

Annie immediately looks away.

Heat rising in her cheeks.

As Meagan loads food onto her tray she smirks.

“Don’t think I don’t see you.”

Annie freezes.

“Huh?”

Meagan laughs.

“Girl please.”

Annie looks down.

“I’m not—”

“Mhmm.”

Meagan lifts her tray.

“Come on.”

Then immediately yells—

“Move the fuck out my way!”

Annie nearly jumps and everyone in the galley parts.

Once they hit the dining room though…

Everything changes.

Meagan smiles.

Laughs.

Plays peek-a-boo with babies.

Calls elderly couples sweetheart.

Asks people about birthdays.

It’s like watching two completely different people.

When they return to the kitchen Annie finally says it.

“Wow.”

Meagan looks over.

“What?”

“I just saw a different person out there.”

Meagan clicks her tongue.

“I do what I need to do for money.”

She points toward the biscuit station.

“Now go get me some biscuits.”

The day flies by.

The dinner rush hits.

And suddenly hours disappear.

The restaurant grows louder.

Hotter. Busier.

The cooks move like machines.

Servers dart around each other.

Managers yell table numbers.

By closing time Annie’s feet hurt.

Her back hurt.

But she’s smiling.

At the end of the night she and Meagan sit rolling silverware.

“You gotta roll it tight like this.”

Meagan demonstrates.

“Or they’ll complain.”

“Okay.”

“And always tip out the bar.”

“How much?”

“Ten percent.”

“And the bus boys?”

“Whatever you wanna give.”

They roll two entire tubs.

When they finish, Meagan shoves forty dollars toward Annie.

Annie stares.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Girl take it.”

“No seriously—”

“Take it.”

Annie smiles and stuffs it into her apron.

Forty dollars.

For one day.

She can’t believe it.

Outside, she pulls out her Nokia phone to call her dad.

Meagan stays behind talking to a male server named Saul.

A few minutes later the front doors open.

Smoke steps outside.

Saul immediately calls out.

“Aye bro. I need that good shit from you. I know you got some.”

Smoke nods.

“I’m gettin’ ready to bring my truck up.”

“Bet that.”

Smoke glances toward Annie.

Slowly looking her up.

Then down.

Then back up.

A chill crawls down her spine.

He walks away.

Annie looks down.

Trying to act unaffected.

Failing miserably.

There was something about him.

Something dangerous.

Like he works a regular job but belongs somewhere else after hours.

The streets. The city.

Places Annie had only heard stories about.

She was intrigued despite herself.

Eventually she gets bored waiting.

She starts playing the Snake game on her phone.

Then she hears music.

Loud music.

She looks up.

A dark blue candy-painted 1988 Chevy Silverado rolls toward them.

Chrome twenty-fours gleam beneath the lights.

Tint too dark to see through.

Bass rattles the pavement.

The truck looks expensive.

Custom.

Attention grabbing.

It pulls directly in front of the restaurant.

Smoke climbs out.

Looking straight at Annie.

Like he wants her to notice.

Like he knows she’s watching.

His non-slip shoes are gone.

Jordan’s now.

White tee.

Baggy jeans.

Confidence dripping off him.

Annie swallows hard.

Smoke finally looks away and walks over to Saul.

Leaving the truck door wide open.

Annie can’t help herself.

She peeks inside.

Leather seats painted Superman colors.

Red. Blue. Yellow.

A giant S stitched into the center.

TV screens built into the headrests.

J-Kwon’s “Hood Hop” blasts from expensive speakers.

The truck looks like something straight out of a music video.

She watches Smoke hand Saul something.

The two talk quietly.

Then Smoke turns.

Starts walking back toward his truck.

Slowly.

His eyes never leaving Annie.

Not once.

Not until he climbs inside.

He shuts the door.

Starts the engine.

Then nods at her.

Annie nods back.

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

Then he pulls away.

Fast.

The engine roars.

Annie jumps.

Lindsey and Melissa busts out laughing behind her.

“He so damn sexy,” Lindsey said.

Melissa nods immediately.

“Mhmm. I was making sure I kept my eyes on him all day.”

“Sameeeee.”

Lindsey laughs.

“Now that I seen his car, I gotta try and talk to him.”

Melissa smirks.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m sure he can teach me.”

The girls laughs.

Annie smiles and shakes her head.

“How was your first day?” Melissa asks.

Annie shrugs.

“It was cool I guess.”

“Girl I made good money. Keisha gave me a hundred dollars.”

Lindsey’s mouth drops open.

“What?!”

Melissa laughs.

“Cortez ain’t give me nothing.”

Just then Annie’s dad pulls into the parking lot.

“See y’all later.”

They wave.

By the time Annie gets home, her siblings were asleep.

The house is quiet.

She showers.

Pulls on a t-shirt.

Then climbs into bed.

She slips her Nivea CD into her Walkman.

“25 Reasons” fills her headphones.

The room glows softly from the moonlight coming through the blinds.

Annie stares at the ceiling.

And thinks about Smoke.

The way he looked at her.

The way he held eye contact.

The confidence.

The truck.

The mystery.

Everything about him felt different from the boys she’d grown up around in South Kansas City.

He unnerved her.

Made her curious.

Made her nervous.

Made her want to know more.

Her heart skips just thinking about the way he’d stared a hole through her before leaving.

Eventually her eyes grow heavy.

The music plays softly.

And somewhere between thoughts of Smoke and dreams of tomorrow, Annie finally drifts off to sleep.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Smoke rides through Kansas City with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console.

Rich The Factor thumps through the speakers.

Streetlights blur across his windshield as he cuts through the city.

Normally he doesn’t think about work once he’s off the clock.

Once he’s done cooking, he’s done.

But tonight his mind won’t stay where it’s supposed to.

It keeps drifting back to the same person.

The new girl.

Annie.

He shakes his head.

“Damn.”

The truck rolls through Prospect.

Then toward 39th.

Then back out south.

Making stops.

Dropping off what his customers need.

Collecting money.

Conducting business.

The usual.

But every time he finds himself alone again, his mind circles right back to her.

He sees her standing in the kitchen.

Fresh wrap, hair bouncing whenever she moved.

Glossy lips.

Big brown eyes.

Chocolate skin glowing under those fluorescent lights.

Shy. Quiet.

Completely out of place.

And that’s exactly what caught his attention.

Most girls would’ve been giggling.

Showing off, like the other two who started with her.

Trying to get noticed.

Not her.

She barely looked anybody in the eye.

When Michelle introduced them, Smoke noticed the way Annie stood with her hands folded in front of her.

Almost nervous. Almost innocent.

Like she wasn’t used to being around people like him.

And she definitely wasn’t.

Smoke knew the difference immediately.

He’d met girls from every part of Kansas City.

The hood.

The suburbs.

The projects.

Annie wasn’t from his world.

He could tell.

The way she talked.

The way she carried herself.

The way she blushed when he looked at her.

The girl was green. Fresh.

And Lord help him…

That made her ass even prettier.

Smoke pulls into a gas station on Troost.

One of his regular customers walks out.

Money exchanges hands.

Business gets handled.

A few words are spoken.

Then he’s back on the road.

The city glows around him.

Neon signs. Liquor stores.

Corner stores.

People hanging outside apartment buildings.

Cars rolling through intersections.

Kansas City at night.

His city.

His phone rings.

It’s Brandon.

Smoke answers.

“What’s up?”

“You hittin the club tonight?”

“Nah.”

“Damn. Why?”

“Ain’t really feelin it.”

Brandon laughs.

“Bullshit.”

“What fool?”

“You thinkin’ about that new girl.”

Smoke chuckles.

“I don’t know what the hell you talkin about.”

“Man please.”

Smoke hears Brandon sparking a blunt.

“You ain’t slick. The whole line saw you starin’ at her ass.”

Smoke shakes his head.

“Tskk Whatever nigga.”

“Nah. Whatever my ass. You was looking at her like she was the last biscuit in that muthafucka.”

Smoke laughs despite himself.

“Nigga shut the fuck up.”

“And she was lookin’ at yo ass too.”

Smoke doesn’t answer.

Because she had been.

Every time he looked up.

She was looking.

Then she’d immediately look away.

Like she’d gotten caught.

The memory makes him smirk

“See.”

Brandon starts laughing.

“You smiling right now ain’t you?”

“Man get the fuck off my phone.”

“You got it bad already my nigga.”

Smoke hangs up.

Still smirking

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

The truth is…

He doesn’t get nervous around women.

Never has.

Women usually come easy.

But there was something different about Annie.

She didn’t seem impressed by his truck.

Didn’t know about his reputation

Or the fact that half the city knew his name.

Hell, she seemed like she barely talked.

But every time she’d looked at him today, Smoke felt something strange settle in his chest.

Something he couldn’t quite explain.

The truck slows at a red light.

Smoke glances at the passenger seat.

Empty.

Then he thinks about Annie sitting there.

Looking around.

Asking questions.

Laughing.

The image appears so clearly that it catches him off guard.

“Damn.”

The light turns green.

Smoke pulls off.

For the first time all night, he realizes he’s smiling like a fool and he hardly ever smiles.

One day.

That’s all it took.

One day.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of business.

More stops.

More conversations.

More money.

Eventually he pulls into his apartment complex sometime after midnight.

The city finally quiet.

He kills the engine.

The music dies.

For a moment he just sits there.

Looking through the windshield.

Thinking.

Annie.

Her smile.

Her eyes.

The way her eyes got wide every time he caught her staring.

Then he remembers the way she nodded back when he pulled off.

A simple little nod.

Nothing special.

Yet it’s the thing he remembers most.

Smoke climbs out and locks the truck.

As he heads toward his apartment he laughs softly to himself.

Because for the first time in a long time…

He’s actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow.

And he already knows exactly why.

📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️

The next day at school, Annie is sitting in the cafeteria at lunch with her best friends Ebony, Devin, and Rhonda.

The cafeteria is loud as always.

Trays slam against tables.

Kids yell across the room.

A group of football players are crowded around two tables arguing about who won a game of Madden the night before.

The smell of pizza, french fries, and cafeteria tacos hangs in the air.

A teacher blows a whistle somewhere near the vending machines.

Annie picks at her fries while her friends crowd around the table.

Ebony turns toward her.

“So how was your first day of work?”

Annie shrugs.

“It was okay. It’s fast paced but I can handle it.”

Devin immediately perks up.

“Shit, I can’t wait until you in there good. I need the hook up, girl.”

Annie shakes her head.

“Here you go. Stay tryin’ to get free food. We don’t even get free food. We only get half off.”

“Oh wow,” Devin says. “They can’t even give y’all free food?”

“Uh no. We get free drinks though.”

Rhonda cuts in.

“What good is that?”

“Shit, I’d take that. Free is free,” Ebony says.

Then she leans forward.

“Anyway, we goin to Bannister Mall Saturday or what?”

Rhonda immediately shakes her head.

“Nah. Let’s go to The Landing Mall. That’s where all the fine niggas at. Don’t nobody wanna see the same niggas we see at school every day.”

Devin points across the table.

“Yo fast ass always tryna go down in the city.”

“So?” Rhonda shoots back. “Them niggas ain’t boring. I love ridin wit em while they buss serves.”

The girls busts out laughing.

Annie shakes her head.

“I can’t. I gotta babysit and I haven’t even gotten paid yet.”

Devin groans dramatically.

“You always gotta watch them damn crumb snatchers.”

“Yeah,” Rhonda adds. “They bad as hell.”

“I know y’all,” Annie says. “Butttt what can I do? They my siblings.”

Ebony shakes her head.

“You better than me.”

“Whatever.”

Annie tries to laugh it off, but the familiar frustration creeps in.

Because the truth is…

She doesn’t want to babysit.

Not every weekend.

Not every Friday night.

Not every time her friends are doing something fun.

She loves her brothers and sisters.

Would do anything for them.

But sometimes it feels like she’s helping raise them instead of just being their sister.

Meanwhile everybody else gets to be teenagers.

Everybody else gets to go to the movies.

Go to parties.

Hang out at the mall.

Ride around.

Have fun.

Annie feels like she’s constantly missing something.

She stares down at her tray.

Ready for the day she can finally get away from home.

Ready for the day she doesn’t have to ask permission for every little thing.

At this rate she doesn’t even want kids.

Ebony pulls her from her thoughts.

“Ryan was looking for you earlier.”

Annie immediately rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know why. That’s been over.”

“I don’t know,” Ebony says. “He told me to give you this letter.”

She slides the folded paper across the table.

“Don’t do him like that. Y’all was so cute together.” Devin says

Annie groans.

Ryan was Annie’s ex-boyfriend.

If that’s what you wanted to call him.

Most of their relationship happened at school.

The rest happened through whispered late-night phone calls that Annie had to sneak to make.

At first she liked him.

Thought he was sweet.

Then she found out he loved attention way more than he loved her.

Especially attention from girls.

When he got caught kissing another girl on a football trip, Annie was devastated.

Not because she lost Ryan.

But because she trusted him.

Then when she confronted him, he tried to make it her fault.

Told her she didn’t spend enough time with him.

Told her she cared more about following her parents’ rules than being his girlfriend.

Annie broke that shit off immediately.

Ryan never got over it.

Even though he was talking to another girl now—the same girl he was caught kissing.

It was like he couldn’t handle the fact that Annie left him first.

And everybody at school knew it.

Annie stuffs the letter into her pocket.

Rhonda grins.

“That little long paragraph he wrote on your guestbook on BlackPlanet was too cute.”

Annie sucks her teeth.

“It was not. I cussed him out too because who does that? You just supposed to put your name in there. Not write whole paragraphs for the whole world to see.”

Devin laughs.

“He loves you girl.”

Annie waves her off.

“Ryan don’t know shit about love. I blame Kevion for setting me up with his ass.”

Ebony points.

“That’s who you should’ve gotten wit.”

Annie immediately knits her brows.

“Hell no. That’s like my brother. He’s annoying as hell. I don’t see how any girl can put up wit him.”

“You can,” Devin says.

Annie throws a fry at her.

“Anywayyyy let’s change the subject.”

The girls crack up.

The bell rings moments later.

Everybody starts standing.

Chairs scrape across the floor.

Backpacks zip.

Teachers begin ushering students toward class.

The four girls gather their things and head toward the hallway laughing.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

A little later, Annie is sitting in her last period.

The teacher is at the front of the room droning on about something written across the chalkboard.

Most of the students aren’t paying attention.

A few are passing notes.

Some are sleeping.

Others are listening to CDs through headphones hidden beneath their hoodies.

Sunlight streams through the classroom windows.

Annie reaches into her pocket and pulls out Ryan’s letter.

She unfolds it carefully beneath her desk.

Immediately she recognizes his handwriting.

Messy. Slanted.

Trying too hard to be cool.

She starts reading.

’Sup,

Nothin much this way just chillin like a muthafuckin villain.’

Annie rolls her eyes so hard they almost hurt.

“Boy…”

She shakes her head and keeps reading.

‘Anyway, you really not returning my calls? That shit crazy. I told you I ain’t mean for it to happen. I know you probably heard about me and Dana but she don’t mean shit to me. She ain’t you. I’m only wit her now cause you won’t take me back. I miss you and I know I blamed you for yo parents being so strict but it ain’t yo fault and that’s my bad. If you can meet me at my locker at the end of the day. Just give me another chance Annie. Please. I hope to see you later.’

This is my sorry for 2004...

Peace,

Ryan

Annie stares at the paper for a few seconds after she finishes. She holds in a laugh at the song reference.

She folds it back up.

Then unfolds it again.

Her jaw tightens.

The nerve.

The absolute nerve.

Ryan really had some audacity.

Dana don’t mean shit to you?

Then why was your tongue in her mouth?

Annie immediately feels her blood pressure rise.

The memory comes back clear as day.

Her friend’s phone call.

The embarrassment.

The disbelief.

Then Ryan standing in front of her trying to explain it away.

Trying to make her feel guilty.

Trying to convince her that somehow his cheating was connected to her parents being strict.

That part probably irritated her more than the actual kiss.

Because Ryan knew her situation.

He knew how hard it was for her to do anything.

He knew she couldn’t just leave whenever she wanted.

Knew she had younger siblings to help with.

Knew her father wasn’t playing that sneaking out shit.

Yet somehow he still tried to make her feel responsible for his choices.

Annie sucks her teeth quietly.

“Whatever.”

The girl beside her glances over.

Annie immediately looks back toward the board.

But her mind keeps drifting.

A small part of her wonders if she should meet him.

Just hear him out.

Maybe he really was sorry.

Maybe he meant what he wrote.

Maybe—

She cuts the thought off immediately.

No.

Because if he was really sorry, he wouldn’t have done it.

And even if she forgave him…

What would change?

Ryan still liked attention.

Still flirted too much.

Still thought apologies fixed everything.

The truth was she didn’t trust him anymore.

And once trust was gone…

What was left?

Annie folds the letter one final time.

Smaller this time.

Until it’s just a tiny square.

Then she shoves it into her backpack.

Decision made.

She isn’t meeting him after school.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

Ryan had his chance.

He chose Dana.

Now he could go be with Dana.

The final bell eventually rings.

Students immediately jump up from their desks.

Books slam shut.

Chairs scrape across the floor.

The hallway fills with noise.

Annie gathers her things and heads toward the door.

As she walks down the hallway, she spots Ryan leaning against his locker exactly where he said he’d be.

Looking around.

Waiting.

Searching every face that passes by.

Waiting for her.

Annie slows for half a second.

Just long enough to see the hopeful look on his face.

Then she keeps walking.

Straight past him.

Without stopping.

Without speaking.

Without even turning her head.

A few moments later she hears him call her name.

“Annie!”

She keeps walking.

“Annie!”

Her grip tightens around her backpack strap.

But she never looks back.

Eventually his voice disappears behind her.

And for the first time since they broke up…

She feels completely sure she made the right decision.

By the time she reaches the parking lot, Ryan is already fading into the background.

And strangely enough…

The person occupying her thoughts isn’t him at all.

It’s a quiet cook from Red Lobster who hadn’t even said one word to her.

A man named Smoke.

And that realization makes Annie shake her head at herself.

Because she doesn’t even know that man.

Yet somehow she’s smiling on the ride home.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

When Annie makes it home, the house is quiet for all of five minutes before the phone rings.

The loud ring echoes through the house.

Annie drops her backpack by the couch and picks up the cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby,” her mother says.

Annie smiles automatically.

“Hey Mama.”

“I need you to feed your siblings before you go to work.”

Annie’s shoulders immediately slump.

“But Mama…” she groans. “I don’t have much time. Where’s Edward at? He can feed them.”

“Annie, don’t question me.”

Her mother’s tone isn’t harsh, but it leaves little room for debate.

“He’s at theater practice.”

Annie sighs.

Of course he is.

Edward was the second oldest—16, but he was hardly ever home.

Between theater, choir, band, and whatever school activity he had signed up for that month, he managed to stay busy.

Meanwhile Annie somehow always ended up being the one available.

“Your dad will be home shortly to take you to work. Watch your baby sister closely. She had to stay home from daycare today. Your auntie just dropped her off, so make sure her pull up is dry please.”

Annie glances at the clock.

She really doesn’t have much time.

Still…

“Okay.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome.”

After hanging up, Annie drops the phone back onto its charger and heads into the kitchen.

The house smells faintly like laundry detergent and whatever cleaning products her mother used that morning.

Her six year old twin siblings are somewhere throughout the house.

The twelve and fourteen year old are watching 106th and Park.

The youngest who is two years old is playing with toys on the floor.

Nobody seems remotely concerned about dinner.

Annie rolls her eyes.

“Y’all know y’all gotta eat, right?”

A chorus of the twelve and fourteen year old groans follows.

“We tryna go outside and hoop in a minute.”

She ignores them.

Opening the freezer, she pulls out french fries.

Then grabs the ground beef from the refrigerator.

Before long the smell of sloppy joes fills the kitchen.

The meat sizzles in the skillet.

The fries crisp up in the oven.

The twins and the two year old begin wandering into the kitchen one by one, drawn by the smell.

“Is it done yet?”

“No.”

Five minutes later.

“Is it done now?”

“No.”

Another five minutes.

“What about now?”

Annie points toward the living room.

“If y’all don’t get out this kitchen.”

The kids scatter, laughing.

Eventually dinner is ready.

Annie fixes everyone’s plates and lines them up on the table.

“Sit down.”

Nobody moves fast enough.

She snaps her fingers.

“Now.”

Chairs scrape against the floor.

The kids finally sit.

Annie watches them start eating before grabbing her own plate.

For a few minutes the only sounds are kids smacking and the television playing in the next room.

Then, as soon as they’re done, Annie starts gathering homework folders.

The complaints begin immediately.

“Aww man.”

“I already did mine.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Bring it here then.”

The child suddenly grows quiet.

Exactly.

Annie shakes her head.

Sometimes she felt more like a third parent than a big sister.

She sits at the table helping one sibling with spelling words while another struggles through multiplication.

She holds her baby sister in her lap.

Outside, she hears her father’s truck pull into the driveway.

Relief instantly washes over her.

Because as much as she loved her family…

She was more than ready to get out of the house and head to work.

Even if it was only for a few hours.

It was the one place lately that felt like it belonged to her….

Part 2

[myheartsaysyes]

Ooh this is sooo good! So nostalgic and brings back so many memories!! LOVE!

[kkbeauty86]

New Series Alert!🚨

I wanted to write about a younger Annie and slightly older Smoke. I wanted to capture the experience of finding your first true love as an adult. I am pulling from my own experience as well as a lot of my friends. We had so much fun back in the day. 🥴😂😭 Whew! A time was definitely had.

The title of the series is called

My first Love

Inspired by the remake that Avant and Keke made.

Slightly Older Smoke

Younger Annie

Virgin Annie!

Nostalgia

Early 2000’s

Chapter 1

“Come & Talk To Me”

It’s August of 2004 in South Kansas City, Missouri.

Annie is starting her first job at Red Lobster.

She’s a senior in high school, freshly eighteen years old. Her mom and dad made it clear that if she wanted senior pictures, prom, graduation fees, class dues, yearbooks, and all the other expenses that came with being a senior, she would have to pay for them herself.

There were too many kids in the house.

Money had to stretch.

Growing up between Grandview and Raytown, Annie had lived a sheltered life. She rarely spent time in the inner city. Her dad kept her busy with school, church, chores, and helping raise her younger siblings. Most weekends were spent babysitting or cleaning instead of hanging out with friends.

At eighteen, she was still a virgin while most of her friends had already crossed that bridge years ago.

Now that she was officially an adult, her father had finally loosened the ropes a little.

Not much. Just enough.

As Annie walks through the front doors of Red Lobster, her stomach twisted with nerves and excitement.

The blast of cold air conditioning immediately hits her face.

The restaurant smells like cheddar bay biscuits, fried shrimp, butter, lemon, and seafood. A large lobster tank filled with lobsters sits in the lobby.

Glasses clink. Silverware rattles.

Servers hurry through the dining room carrying trays balance high on their shoulders.

Customers laugh from booths.

A baby cries somewhere near the front windows.

Everything feels loud.

Fast. Alive.

Annie smooths her uniform shirt and wraps her blue apron around her waist.

Her fresh wrap hangs past her shoulders, bouncing when she moves. Her lips are coated in clear gloss and her chocolate skin glows beneath the bright restaurant lights.

She was finally making her own money.

That thought alone makes her smile.

Near the host stand stands two girls wearing the same uniform.

Both blonde.

Both looking just as nervous.

One smiles.

“You starting today too?”

“Mhmm,” Annie replies.

The girl extends her hand.

“My name is Lindsey and this is Melissa.”

“My name is Annie.”

Before they can say much else, a voice calls out behind them.

“Alright ladies.”

They turn.

Standing there is a middle-aged, skinny pale woman with tired eyes and smoker’s wrinkles around her mouth.

She looks like she drank every weekend and maybe a few weekdays too.

“I’m Michelle,” she says. “Let me show you around and introduce you to everybody. Follow me.”

The girls fall in line behind her.

Michelle leads them through the dining room.

As they walk, she introduces managers, hosts, bartenders, and bus boys.

“That’s Tony.”

“That’s Chris.”

“That’s Mike.”

Everyone nods or waves.

The farther they walk, the louder things become.

Then they reach the kitchen.

The moment Annie steps through the swinging doors she nearly stops in her tracks.

The heat hits her instantly.

Steam rises from pots.

Fryers hiss.

The smell of grease and seasoning fill the air.

Orders are being shouted from every direction.

The galley sits in the middle of it all.

One side belongs to the servers and food dressers.

The other belongs to the cooks.

A narrow window separates them where finished plates slide through.

Four cooks stand on the line.

All young. All Black. All handsome.

But one stands out immediately.

He has good height.

Around six feet.

Broad shoulders.

Muscles stretching beneath his black t-shirt.

Coffee-brown skin.

Thick lips.

Sharp jawline.

Low cut with deep waves.

Looked to be twenty one or twenty two.

He’s talking to another cook when he turns his head.

The second he does, his eyes land on Annie.

His entire expression changes.

His eyes light up.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Like something had caught his attention.

Then he checks it.

Goes right back to whatever conversation he was having.

Annie notices.

And for some reason, her stomach flips.

Before she can think too much about it Michelle calls out.

“Fellas! We got some new servers starting today!”

The cooks look up.

Michelle points down the line.

“This one here is Jesse. He works the fryers.”

Jesse grins. Light skinned.

Curly hair—a product of when races mix.

Looking every bit of nineteen.

“Hello ladies.”

All three girls greet him back.

Michelle continues.

“This is Brandon. He’s one of our grill cooks.”

Brandon nods.

“Sup.”

He’s slightly chubby with a perfectly trimmed beard, cornrows.

His lips are dark from years of smoking blunts.

Still handsome though.

The way Brandon looks at the new girls makes it obvious he considers them fresh fish.

Michelle moves on.

“This is Jessie and he garnishes all the food.”

The girls laugh

“Your name Jessie too?”

He smirks.

“Yeah, but I’m the better one.”

This Jessie is dark skinned and shorter than the rest.

The entire line laughs—except Smoke.

Finally Michelle points to the last cook.

“This one here is Elijah. He can do it all. Grill, fryers, whatever’s needed.”

The cook immediately corrects her.

“Smoke.”

Michelle rolls her eyes.

“My name is Smoke.”

Michelle sighs.

“Sorry. He goes by Smoke. Which I really don’t want us calling out in the kitchen, but whatever.”

Everybody laughs

Including Annie.

Smoke doesn’t.

He just looks directly at her.

Holds her stare.

Annie’s breath catches.

The boldness of it nearly makes her look away immediately.

But she can’t.

For several seconds they simply stare at each other.

The noise of the kitchen fading.

The voices. The fryers. Everything.

Then Smoke finally breaks eye contact.

And Annie finds herself breathing again.

After introductions Michelle brings the girls back into the galley.

They are paired with veteran servers.

Annie ends up with a girl named Meagan.

Meagan couldn’t have been more than twenty.

Petite. Brown skin. Pretty face.

A short ponytail swinging behind her head.

Small but loud. Very loud.

“Come on,” Meagan says immediately.

“We moving fast around here.”

Annie hurries after her.

Meagan walks so quickly Annie almost has to jog.

“This where you get your salads.”

She points.

“This where the biscuits go.”

Points again.

“This the drink station. We get free drinks.”

Another point.

Annie blinks.

“Wait.”

Meagan laughs.

“You already lost?”

“A little.”

“Girl, don’t worry. Everybody lost their first day.”

As they walk she continues talking.

“If somebody asks you for ranch, bring two. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

“If somebody asks for extra biscuits, bring six.”

“Six?”

“Yes six. White folks love these damn biscuits.”

Annie laughs.

Meagan grins.

“And stay out the managers’ faces.”

“Why?”

“Because they crazy.”

Annie laughs harder.

By the time they return to the kitchen, Meagan has already shifted gears.

Completely.

She grabs a plate from the window.

“Aye! Where the fuck is my steak?!”

The entire kitchen looks up.

“I already got fucking fries on this plate getting cold! Hurry the fuck up!”

Brandon sucks his teeth.

“Shut the fuck up! It says well done on the ticket! You’ll get it when it’s done!”

He points toward the fryer.

“Blame Jessie ass for dropping the fries too early!”

They immediately start arguing.

Back and forth. Like siblings.

Annie stands there watching in disbelief.

She glances toward Smoke.

He’s reading tickets hanging above the line.

Calling out orders.

“Two salmon.”

“One shrimp linguine.”

“Need a medium ribeye.”

Then his eyes flicker toward her.

Again.

The look wasn’t accidental.

Annie immediately looks away.

Heat rising in her cheeks.

As Meagan loads food onto her tray she smirks.

“Don’t think I don’t see you.”

Annie freezes.

“Huh?”

Meagan laughs.

“Girl please.”

Annie looks down.

“I’m not—”

“Mhmm.”

Meagan lifts her tray.

“Come on.”

Then immediately yells—

“Move the fuck out my way!”

Annie nearly jumps and everyone in the galley parts.

Once they hit the dining room though…

Everything changes.

Meagan smiles.

Laughs.

Plays peek-a-boo with babies.

Calls elderly couples sweetheart.

Asks people about birthdays.

It’s like watching two completely different people.

When they return to the kitchen Annie finally says it.

“Wow.”

Meagan looks over.

“What?”

“I just saw a different person out there.”

Meagan clicks her tongue.

“I do what I need to do for money.”

She points toward the biscuit station.

“Now go get me some biscuits.”

The day flies by.

The dinner rush hits.

And suddenly hours disappear.

The restaurant grows louder.

Hotter. Busier.

The cooks move like machines.

Servers dart around each other.

Managers yell table numbers.

By closing time Annie’s feet hurt.

Her back hurt.

But she’s smiling.

At the end of the night she and Meagan sit rolling silverware.

“You gotta roll it tight like this.”

Meagan demonstrates.

“Or they’ll complain.”

“Okay.”

“And always tip out the bar.”

“How much?”

“Ten percent.”

“And the bus boys?”

“Whatever you wanna give.”

They roll two entire tubs.

When they finish, Meagan shoves forty dollars toward Annie.

Annie stares.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Girl take it.”

“No seriously—”

“Take it.”

Annie smiles and stuffs it into her apron.

Forty dollars.

For one day.

She can’t believe it.

Outside, she pulls out her Nokia phone to call her dad.

Meagan stays behind talking to a male server named Saul.

A few minutes later the front doors open.

Smoke steps outside.

Saul immediately calls out.

“Aye bro. I need that good shit from you. I know you got some.”

Smoke nods.

“I’m gettin’ ready to bring my truck up.”

“Bet that.”

Smoke glances toward Annie.

Slowly looking her up.

Then down.

Then back up.

A chill crawls down her spine.

He walks away.

Annie looks down.

Trying to act unaffected.

Failing miserably.

There was something about him.

Something dangerous.

Like he works a regular job but belongs somewhere else after hours.

The streets. The city.

Places Annie had only heard stories about.

She was intrigued despite herself.

Eventually she gets bored waiting.

She starts playing the Snake game on her phone.

Then she hears music.

Loud music.

She looks up.

A dark blue candy-painted 1988 Chevy Silverado rolls toward them.

Chrome twenty-fours gleam beneath the lights.

Tint too dark to see through.

Bass rattles the pavement.

The truck looks expensive.

Custom.

Attention grabbing.

It pulls directly in front of the restaurant.

Smoke climbs out.

Looking straight at Annie.

Like he wants her to notice.

Like he knows she’s watching.

His non-slip shoes are gone.

Jordan’s now.

White tee.

Baggy jeans.

Confidence dripping off him.

Annie swallows hard.

Smoke finally looks away and walks over to Saul.

Leaving the truck door wide open.

Annie can’t help herself.

She peeks inside.

Leather seats painted Superman colors.

Red. Blue. Yellow.

A giant S stitched into the center.

TV screens built into the headrests.

J-Kwon’s “Hood Hop” blasts from expensive speakers.

The truck looks like something straight out of a music video.

She watches Smoke hand Saul something.

The two talk quietly.

Then Smoke turns.

Starts walking back toward his truck.

Slowly.

His eyes never leaving Annie.

Not once.

Not until he climbs inside.

He shuts the door.

Starts the engine.

Then nods at her.

Annie nods back.

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

Then he pulls away.

Fast.

The engine roars.

Annie jumps.

Lindsey and Melissa busts out laughing behind her.

“He so damn sexy,” Lindsey said.

Melissa nods immediately.

“Mhmm. I was making sure I kept my eyes on him all day.”

“Sameeeee.”

Lindsey laughs.

“Now that I seen his car, I gotta try and talk to him.”

Melissa smirks.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m sure he can teach me.”

The girls laughs.

Annie smiles and shakes her head.

“How was your first day?” Melissa asks.

Annie shrugs.

“It was cool I guess.”

“Girl I made good money. Keisha gave me a hundred dollars.”

Lindsey’s mouth drops open.

“What?!”

Melissa laughs.

“Cortez ain’t give me nothing.”

Just then Annie’s dad pulls into the parking lot.

“See y’all later.”

They wave.

By the time Annie gets home, her siblings were asleep.

The house is quiet.

She showers.

Pulls on a t-shirt.

Then climbs into bed.

She slips her Nivea CD into her Walkman.

“25 Reasons” fills her headphones.

The room glows softly from the moonlight coming through the blinds.

Annie stares at the ceiling.

And thinks about Smoke.

The way he looked at her.

The way he held eye contact.

The confidence.

The truck.

The mystery.

Everything about him felt different from the boys she’d grown up around in South Kansas City.

He unnerved her.

Made her curious.

Made her nervous.

Made her want to know more.

Her heart skips just thinking about the way he’d stared a hole through her before leaving.

Eventually her eyes grow heavy.

The music plays softly.

And somewhere between thoughts of Smoke and dreams of tomorrow, Annie finally drifts off to sleep.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Smoke rides through Kansas City with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console.

Rich The Factor thumps through the speakers.

Streetlights blur across his windshield as he cuts through the city.

Normally he doesn’t think about work once he’s off the clock.

Once he’s done cooking, he’s done.

But tonight his mind won’t stay where it’s supposed to.

It keeps drifting back to the same person.

The new girl.

Annie.

He shakes his head.

“Damn.”

The truck rolls through Prospect.

Then toward 39th.

Then back out south.

Making stops.

Dropping off what his customers need.

Collecting money.

Conducting business.

The usual.

But every time he finds himself alone again, his mind circles right back to her.

He sees her standing in the kitchen.

Fresh wrap, hair bouncing whenever she moved.

Glossy lips.

Big brown eyes.

Chocolate skin glowing under those fluorescent lights.

Shy. Quiet.

Completely out of place.

And that’s exactly what caught his attention.

Most girls would’ve been giggling.

Showing off, like the other two who started with her.

Trying to get noticed.

Not her.

She barely looked anybody in the eye.

When Michelle introduced them, Smoke noticed the way Annie stood with her hands folded in front of her.

Almost nervous. Almost innocent.

Like she wasn’t used to being around people like him.

And she definitely wasn’t.

Smoke knew the difference immediately.

He’d met girls from every part of Kansas City.

The hood.

The suburbs.

The projects.

Annie wasn’t from his world.

He could tell.

The way she talked.

The way she carried herself.

The way she blushed when he looked at her.

The girl was green. Fresh.

And Lord help him…

That made her ass even prettier.

Smoke pulls into a gas station on Troost.

One of his regular customers walks out.

Money exchanges hands.

Business gets handled.

A few words are spoken.

Then he’s back on the road.

The city glows around him.

Neon signs. Liquor stores.

Corner stores.

People hanging outside apartment buildings.

Cars rolling through intersections.

Kansas City at night.

His city.

His phone rings.

It’s Brandon.

Smoke answers.

“What’s up?”

“You hittin the club tonight?”

“Nah.”

“Damn. Why?”

“Ain’t really feelin it.”

Brandon laughs.

“Bullshit.”

“What fool?”

“You thinkin’ about that new girl.”

Smoke chuckles.

“I don’t know what the hell you talkin about.”

“Man please.”

Smoke hears Brandon sparking a blunt.

“You ain’t slick. The whole line saw you starin’ at her ass.”

Smoke shakes his head.

“Tskk Whatever nigga.”

“Nah. Whatever my ass. You was looking at her like she was the last biscuit in that muthafucka.”

Smoke laughs despite himself.

“Nigga shut the fuck up.”

“And she was lookin’ at yo ass too.”

Smoke doesn’t answer.

Because she had been.

Every time he looked up.

She was looking.

Then she’d immediately look away.

Like she’d gotten caught.

The memory makes him smirk

“See.”

Brandon starts laughing.

“You smiling right now ain’t you?”

“Man get the fuck off my phone.”

“You got it bad already my nigga.”

Smoke hangs up.

Still smirking

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

The truth is…

He doesn’t get nervous around women.

Never has.

Women usually come easy.

But there was something different about Annie.

She didn’t seem impressed by his truck.

Didn’t know about his reputation

Or the fact that half the city knew his name.

Hell, she seemed like she barely talked.

But every time she’d looked at him today, Smoke felt something strange settle in his chest.

Something he couldn’t quite explain.

The truck slows at a red light.

Smoke glances at the passenger seat.

Empty.

Then he thinks about Annie sitting there.

Looking around.

Asking questions.

Laughing.

The image appears so clearly that it catches him off guard.

“Damn.”

The light turns green.

Smoke pulls off.

For the first time all night, he realizes he’s smiling like a fool and he hardly ever smiles.

One day.

That’s all it took.

One day.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of business.

More stops.

More conversations.

More money.

Eventually he pulls into his apartment complex sometime after midnight.

The city finally quiet.

He kills the engine.

The music dies.

For a moment he just sits there.

Looking through the windshield.

Thinking.

Annie.

Her smile.

Her eyes.

The way her eyes got wide every time he caught her staring.

Then he remembers the way she nodded back when he pulled off.

A simple little nod.

Nothing special.

Yet it’s the thing he remembers most.

Smoke climbs out and locks the truck.

As he heads toward his apartment he laughs softly to himself.

Because for the first time in a long time…

He’s actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow.

And he already knows exactly why.

📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️📚✏️

The next day at school, Annie is sitting in the cafeteria at lunch with her best friends Ebony, Devin, and Rhonda.

The cafeteria is loud as always.

Trays slam against tables.

Kids yell across the room.

A group of football players are crowded around two tables arguing about who won a game of Madden the night before.

The smell of pizza, french fries, and cafeteria tacos hangs in the air.

A teacher blows a whistle somewhere near the vending machines.

Annie picks at her fries while her friends crowd around the table.

Ebony turns toward her.

“So how was your first day of work?”

Annie shrugs.

“It was okay. It’s fast paced but I can handle it.”

Devin immediately perks up.

“Shit, I can’t wait until you in there good. I need the hook up, girl.”

Annie shakes her head.

“Here you go. Stay tryin’ to get free food. We don’t even get free food. We only get half off.”

“Oh wow,” Devin says. “They can’t even give y’all free food?”

“Uh no. We get free drinks though.”

Rhonda cuts in.

“What good is that?”

“Shit, I’d take that. Free is free,” Ebony says.

Then she leans forward.

“Anyway, we goin to Bannister Mall Saturday or what?”

Rhonda immediately shakes her head.

“Nah. Let’s go to The Landing Mall. That’s where all the fine niggas at. Don’t nobody wanna see the same niggas we see at school every day.”

Devin points across the table.

“Yo fast ass always tryna go down in the city.”

“So?” Rhonda shoots back. “Them niggas ain’t boring. I love ridin wit em while they buss serves.”

The girls busts out laughing.

Annie shakes her head.

“I can’t. I gotta babysit and I haven’t even gotten paid yet.”

Devin groans dramatically.

“You always gotta watch them damn crumb snatchers.”

“Yeah,” Rhonda adds. “They bad as hell.”

“I know y’all,” Annie says. “Butttt what can I do? They my siblings.”

Ebony shakes her head.

“You better than me.”

“Whatever.”

Annie tries to laugh it off, but the familiar frustration creeps in.

Because the truth is…

She doesn’t want to babysit.

Not every weekend.

Not every Friday night.

Not every time her friends are doing something fun.

She loves her brothers and sisters.

Would do anything for them.

But sometimes it feels like she’s helping raise them instead of just being their sister.

Meanwhile everybody else gets to be teenagers.

Everybody else gets to go to the movies.

Go to parties.

Hang out at the mall.

Ride around.

Have fun.

Annie feels like she’s constantly missing something.

She stares down at her tray.

Ready for the day she can finally get away from home.

Ready for the day she doesn’t have to ask permission for every little thing.

At this rate she doesn’t even want kids.

Ebony pulls her from her thoughts.

“Ryan was looking for you earlier.”

Annie immediately rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know why. That’s been over.”

“I don’t know,” Ebony says. “He told me to give you this letter.”

She slides the folded paper across the table.

“Don’t do him like that. Y’all was so cute together.” Devin says

Annie groans.

Ryan was Annie’s ex-boyfriend.

If that’s what you wanted to call him.

Most of their relationship happened at school.

The rest happened through whispered late-night phone calls that Annie had to sneak to make.

At first she liked him.

Thought he was sweet.

Then she found out he loved attention way more than he loved her.

Especially attention from girls.

When he got caught kissing another girl on a football trip, Annie was devastated.

Not because she lost Ryan.

But because she trusted him.

Then when she confronted him, he tried to make it her fault.

Told her she didn’t spend enough time with him.

Told her she cared more about following her parents’ rules than being his girlfriend.

Annie broke that shit off immediately.

Ryan never got over it.

Even though he was talking to another girl now—the same girl he was caught kissing.

It was like he couldn’t handle the fact that Annie left him first.

And everybody at school knew it.

Annie stuffs the letter into her pocket.

Rhonda grins.

“That little long paragraph he wrote on your guestbook on BlackPlanet was too cute.”

Annie sucks her teeth.

“It was not. I cussed him out too because who does that? You just supposed to put your name in there. Not write whole paragraphs for the whole world to see.”

Devin laughs.

“He loves you girl.”

Annie waves her off.

“Ryan don’t know shit about love. I blame Kevion for setting me up with his ass.”

Ebony points.

“That’s who you should’ve gotten wit.”

Annie immediately knits her brows.

“Hell no. That’s like my brother. He’s annoying as hell. I don’t see how any girl can put up wit him.”

“You can,” Devin says.

Annie throws a fry at her.

“Anywayyyy let’s change the subject.”

The girls crack up.

The bell rings moments later.

Everybody starts standing.

Chairs scrape across the floor.

Backpacks zip.

Teachers begin ushering students toward class.

The four girls gather their things and head toward the hallway laughing.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

A little later, Annie is sitting in her last period.

The teacher is at the front of the room droning on about something written across the chalkboard.

Most of the students aren’t paying attention.

A few are passing notes.

Some are sleeping.

Others are listening to CDs through one headphones hidden beneath their hoodies.

Sunlight streams through the classroom windows.

Annie reaches into her pocket and pulls out Ryan’s letter.

She unfolds it carefully beneath her desk.

Immediately she recognizes his handwriting.

Messy. Slanted.

Trying too hard to be cool.

She starts reading.

’Sup,

Nothin much this way just chillin like a muthafuckin villain.’

Annie rolls her eyes so hard they almost hurt.

“Boy…”

She shakes her head and keeps reading.

‘Anyway, you really not returning my calls? That shit crazy. I told you I ain’t mean for it to happen. I know you probably heard about me and Dana but she don’t mean shit to me. She ain’t you. I’m only wit her now cause you won’t take me back. I miss you and I know I blamed you for yo parents being so strict but it ain’t yo fault and that’s my bad. If you can meet me at my locker at the end of the day. Just give me another chance Annie. Please. I hope to see you later.’

This is my sorry for 2004...

Peace,

Ryan

Annie stares at the paper for a few seconds after she finishes. She holds in a laugh at the song reference.

She folds it back up.

Then unfolds it again.

Her jaw tightens.

The nerve.

The absolute nerve.

Ryan really had some audacity.

Dana don’t mean shit to you?

Then why was your tongue in her mouth?

Annie immediately feels her blood pressure rise.

The memory comes back clear as day.

Her friend’s phone call.

The embarrassment.

The disbelief.

Then Ryan standing in front of her trying to explain it away.

Trying to make her feel guilty.

Trying to convince her that somehow his cheating was connected to her parents being strict.

That part probably irritated her more than the actual kiss.

Because Ryan knew her situation.

He knew how hard it was for her to do anything.

He knew she couldn’t just leave whenever she wanted.

Knew she had younger siblings to help with.

Knew her father wasn’t playing that sneaking out shit.

Yet somehow he still tried to make her feel responsible for his choices.

Annie sucks her teeth quietly.

“Whatever.”

The girl beside her glances over.

Annie immediately looks back toward the board.

But her mind keeps drifting.

A small part of her wonders if she should meet him.

Just hear him out.

Maybe he really was sorry.

Maybe he meant what he wrote.

Maybe—

She cuts the thought off immediately.

No.

Because if he was really sorry, he wouldn’t have done it.

And even if she forgave him…

What would change?

Ryan still liked attention.

Still flirted too much.

Still thought apologies fixed everything.

The truth was she didn’t trust him anymore.

And once trust was gone…

What was left?

Annie folds the letter one final time.

Smaller this time.

Until it’s just a tiny square.

Then she shoves it into her backpack.

Decision made.

She isn’t meeting him after school.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

Ryan had his chance.

He chose Dana.

Now he could go be with Dana.

The final bell eventually rings.

Students immediately jump up from their desks.

Books slam shut.

Chairs scrape across the floor.

The hallway fills with noise.

Annie gathers her things and heads toward the door.

As she walks down the hallway, she spots Ryan leaning against his locker exactly where he said he’d be.

Looking around.

Waiting.

Searching every face that passes by.

Waiting for her.

Annie slows for half a second.

Just long enough to see the hopeful look on his face.

Then she keeps walking.

Straight past him.

Without stopping.

Without speaking.

Without even turning her head.

A few moments later she hears him call her name.

“Annie!”

She keeps walking.

“Annie!”

Her grip tightens around her backpack strap.

But she never looks back.

Eventually his voice disappears behind her.

And for the first time since they broke up…

She feels completely sure she made the right decision.

By the time she reaches the parking lot, Ryan is already fading into the background.

And strangely enough…

The person occupying her thoughts isn’t him at all.

It’s a quiet cook from Red Lobster who hadn’t even said one word to her.

A man named Smoke.

And that realization makes Annie shake her head at herself.

Because she doesn’t even know that man.

Yet somehow she’s smiling on the ride home.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

When Annie makes it home, the house is quiet for all of five minutes before the phone rings.

The loud ring echoes through the house.

Annie drops her backpack by the couch and picks up the cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby,” her mother says.

Annie smiles automatically.

“Hey Mama.”

“I need you to feed your siblings before you go to work.”

Annie’s shoulders immediately slump.

“But Mama…” she groans. “I don’t have much time. Where’s Edward at? He can feed them.”

“Annie, don’t question me.”

Her mother’s tone isn’t harsh, but it leaves little room for debate.

“He’s at theater practice.”

Annie sighs.

Of course he is.

Edward was the second oldest—16, but he was hardly ever home.

Between theater, choir, band, and whatever school activity he had signed up for that month, he managed to stay busy.

Meanwhile Annie somehow always ended up being the one available.

“Your dad will be home shortly to take you to work. Watch your baby sister closely. She had to stay home from daycare today. Your auntie just dropped her off, so make sure her pull up is dry please.”

Annie glances at the clock.

She really doesn’t have much time.

Still…

“Okay.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome.”

After hanging up, Annie drops the phone back onto its charger and heads into the kitchen.

The house smells faintly like laundry detergent and whatever cleaning products her mother used that morning.

Her six year old twin siblings are somewhere throughout the house.

The twelve and fourteen year old are watching 106th and Park.

The youngest who is two years old is playing with toys on the floor.

Nobody seems remotely concerned about dinner.

Annie rolls her eyes.

“Y’all know y’all gotta eat, right?”

A chorus of the twelve and fourteen year old groans follows.

“We tryna go outside and hoop in a minute.”

She ignores them.

Opening the freezer, she pulls out french fries.

Then grabs the ground beef from the refrigerator.

Before long the smell of sloppy joes fills the kitchen.

The meat sizzles in the skillet.

The fries crisp up in the oven.

The twins and the two year old begin wandering into the kitchen one by one, drawn by the smell.

“Is it done yet?”

“No.”

Five minutes later.

“Is it done now?”

“No.”

Another five minutes.

“What about now?”

Annie points toward the living room.

“If y’all don’t get out this kitchen.”

The kids scatter, laughing.

Eventually dinner is ready.

Annie fixes everyone’s plates and lines them up on the table.

“Sit down.”

Nobody moves fast enough.

She snaps her fingers.

“Now.”

Chairs scrape against the floor.

The kids finally sit.

Annie watches them start eating before grabbing her own plate.

For a few minutes the only sounds are kids smacking and the television playing in the next room.

Then, as soon as they’re done, Annie starts gathering homework folders.

The complaints begin immediately.

“Aww man.”

“I already did mine.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Bring it here then.”

The child suddenly grows quiet.

Exactly.

Annie shakes her head.

Sometimes she felt more like a third parent than a big sister.

She sits at the table helping one sibling with spelling words while another struggles through multiplication.

She holds her baby sister in her lap.

Outside, she hears her father’s truck pull into the driveway.

Relief instantly washes over her.

Because as much as she loved her family…

She was more than ready to get out of the house and head to work.

Even if it was only for a few hours.

It was the one place lately that felt like it belonged to her….

Part 2

[longnuts]

Does anyone know what to do

[princecarlton]

[unreadable]

[bideogaymes]

they just sentenced this boy 35 years. wow.

[bideogaymes]

seeing that Karmelo Anthony’s own “friend”, Eddie Parra, testified as a witness against him when he was the one who called Karmelo over to his team’s tent in the first place to chop it up. He recanted his original statement claiming he recorded the altercation & said he no longer or didn’t have the footage. 🥴

according to his testimony, Austin’s brother was the one to bring attention to Karmelo being over there too.

yeah this why i dont believe in being the only Black person in nonblack spaces and groups, PERIOD. yall fold on us and leave us out to dry every time blood.

it’s deadass a matter of personal safety and security for us to have other Black ppl with us.

[aretasreads]

The first trailer for Aaron Sorkin’s ‘THE SOCIAL RECKONING’ has been released.

In theaters October 9.

Featuring Academy Award Nominee Wunmi Mosaku

[oggeminivenus]

[myheartsaysyes]

Is the next chapter of the mixtape the mixtape ready?

Almost! 🤞🏾It’s in the hands of my beta reader now! Might be posting it tonight depending on how many changes or updates I need to make.

But ya’ll be gentle with me in the comments when I post! 🫣

[zunibugsiren]