Hey idk who needs this but helpful reminder that "virgin blood" in any witchcraft shit that requires that means "virgin" in the same sense as "virgin hair" means hair that hasn't been dyed or processed in any way, natural in the default sense. So no, "virgin blood" doesn't mean blood from a virgin, just blood that hasn't been used for any other kind of witchy shit earlier.
Whether nor not someone has fucked before is completely irrelevant. Any act of fucking doesn't instantly make someone contaminated or un-magic any of their shit. You're just not supposed to re-use blood for blood magic. That's just not. Just do not. Like that's just weird who does that.
Ray Bradbury’s short story “There Will Come Soft Rains” that was written in 1950 is set on the day of August 4th, 2026 (tomorrow)!! Now’s your chance to read it around the time it’s based in!
Audio: A recording of Leonard Nimoy reading it on Internet Archive.
Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.
Chapter 9
Desire—A Night-Blooming Flower
“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.”
Perfume - Patrick Süskind
Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.
“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”
“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.
Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.”
Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”
Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm.
“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.
Annie turned her head to Pearline.
“Uhh, I-I think so.”
“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.
“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.
“I am sure.”
The answer settled into the room.
“You scared?” The question came from Verity.
A beat.
“Yeah.”
“Of what?”
Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?”
Annie hummed in thought.
“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.”
She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?”
She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.
Verity spoke up.
“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Mhmm.”
“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.
Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”
“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”
“None.”
Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”
She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.
The next day…
A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.
Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye.
“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration.
She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”
“Mrrp,” he meowed.
Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”
“Mrrrrrrrrp.”
“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”
Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.
“Le pauvre,” she teased.
He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.
“What you do?”
“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.
“Felix.”
“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”
“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”
“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.”
“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”
Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.
“Delilah!” Loretta squealed.
“Loretta!”
They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.
Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen.
“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”
Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?”
“You got a letter back.”
Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin.
“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”
Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled.
“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her.
“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.
Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.
Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it.
Blue lobelias.
They were her favorite.
It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child.
Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.
Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again.
The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.”
Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.
“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.
“Mrrow,” he purred.
“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room.
“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.”
“Thank you again,” Annie said.
Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word.
For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it.
Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.
“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.
“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.”
She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.
The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t.
The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal.
Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.
Annie was in her head.
Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood.
She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.
Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.
Annie smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?”
“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest.
Better now, she thought to herself.
The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.
Smoke noticed it all.
The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her.
The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there.
The way her breath hitched.
The way she tried to hide it all.
That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions.
Then she did something unexpected.
Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.
“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”
Stack.
He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.
But neither of them seemed to care.
They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.
Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder.
Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove.
His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.
So he took a chance.
He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.
“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.
Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”
“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”
“It looks ready.”
“I mean during supper. At the table.”
“I just wanna taste.”
Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”
Stack reached again.
“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.
Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.
“Girl!”
“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”
Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”
“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin.
“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time.
Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”
Stack smirked.
Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.
“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.
Smoke finally moved.
“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.
Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry.
“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.
Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.
“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”
Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her.
Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine.
The twins walked in last.
Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.
Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.
He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table.
The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.
Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.
“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.
“Was waitin’ for you.”
“You ain’t gotta do that.”
He grabbed her hands. “I do.”
Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.”
“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”
Annie giggled softly.
“Whatchu want?”
“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”
Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”
Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank.
Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t.
Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.
By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered.
It wasn’t from the food.
Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows.
Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.
She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt.
Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something.
Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.
But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away.
She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed.
She didn’t hesitate.
The kiss started softly.
The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields.
They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.
Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.
Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night.
Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air.
Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.
Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there.
His blood sparked hot.
His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.
“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.
Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.
He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.
“Why’d you stop?”
The question cut through the silence.
Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.
The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze.
And she felt the same way.
Famished.
Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.
“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat.
She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.
Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.
He looked away.
He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.
Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her.
But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.
She’d never been touched.
Not like this.
And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.
Guilt.
It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did.
“I know,” Smoke said finally.
Annie looked away.
“Look at me.”
She couldn’t look at him at that moment.
Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes.
Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.”
The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them.
Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You ‘sho?”
For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.
“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt.
The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.
“You mine?”
Annie grinned, nodding once.
“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”
She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”
“Creole?”
“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.
Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.
“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold.
“Ou m’ap pèm?”
“What’s that?”
“You mine too?”
“Teach me how to say it back.”
“Mwen se ou.”
“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.
“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up.
Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”
“Mwen se tout ou.”
“That too,” he grunted.
Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”
“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”
He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.
“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.
Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?”
“To tell you.”
“That you a virgin?”
Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.
“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?”
Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”
Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment.
“I’m scared,” she said quietly.
“Scared of what?”
Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm.
“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”
“What you think?”
Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”
Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.
“How you want it to be?”
Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.
“Don’t be scared.”
Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.
Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.
He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”
The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs.
Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.
She could hear the promise beneath the words.
And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.
“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”
Lie.
Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”
Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching.
“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”
She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him.
The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.
“What you was thinkin’?”
Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.
“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing.
“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.”
“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.
Annie fidgeted nervously.
“I don’t remember.”
Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?”
She hesitated.
“‘Cause….”
“‘Cause what?”
“How I felt.”
“How you feel?”
The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now.
“Full.”
The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper.
Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks.
This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.
“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”
Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound.
“You scared of Aunt Della?”
“Yes.”
Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside.
The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream.
Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.
The end.
The signatures.
She read it with shaky hands.
All our love,
Papa & Maman
Nana
Junior
Vernon
Leroy
Raymond
Maurice
They were all there.
Except one.
Uriah.
He was her closest brother.
Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.
She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home.
She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul.
Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless.
She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood.
She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.
Salt for protection and peace of mind.
A pinch of soil.
A Mississippi river rock.
His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her.
A half-burned taper candle.
Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.
Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.
She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.
“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room.
“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.”
She paused, taking a shaky breath.
Then she laid her offering.
“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.”
The candle flickered violently.
“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.”
Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.
She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp.
Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie.
After a while, she spoke again.
“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.”
The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it.
Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”
The flame finally settled into itself.
Only then did she blow it out.
The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.
“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen.
She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.
“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.
Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie.
“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”
Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused.
“Dressed for what?”
“Your fittin’ today!”
“Oh my Lord!”
Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.
“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”
“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”
“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk.
Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You welcome.”
Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper.
Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”
Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”
The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford.
“Pearline?” He called after his wife.
She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”
“Six o’clock.”
“Alright.”
The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.
The Harvest Party.
LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS
“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie.
Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins.
Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown.
Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor.
Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive.
Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed.
Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.
Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?”
Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.
Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.
“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe.
It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke.
Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.
Polite.
But barely there.
They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.
“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.
Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.”
“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table.
“Every single day?” Pearline asked.
“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”
Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them.
She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.
“I can’t touch ‘em?”
Annie shook her head no.
Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?”
“Cuz they blessed.”
Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”
Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”
“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones.
“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.”
Pearline’s eyes softened.
“Told me never to take ‘em off.”
“Have you?”
“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.”
She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”
Pearline smiled.
Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.
Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”
Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”
She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options.
“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.
“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.
The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them.
The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.
Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.
Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world.
The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop.
The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through.
They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice.
They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.
🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine
I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine
'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵
Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.
The memory hit like a freight train.
Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.
She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.
She instantly got chills.
“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”
The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom.
Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.
She could tell she was only halfway present.
She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin.
“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted.
“Why not?”
Pearline sighed. “My husband.”
Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line.
Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County.
He was protective over Pearline when it mattered.
She found it sweet at first. Endearing.
But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.
And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water.
Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip.
“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.
Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.
“You happy?”
Pearline took a full minute to answer.
“Yeah.”
“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”
Pearline gave her a weak smile.
A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi
Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.
He didn’t like any of it.
Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.
He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.
The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right.
They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons.
A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.
Door 14. The Roulette Room.
Laughter slipped out the open door.
The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork.
A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space.
The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either.
And most people present weren’t there to play.
Not really.
Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.
Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.
It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable.
And that was just from a distance.
Smoke’s lip curled up instantly.
Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face.
“Chill out, nigga.”
Smoke grunted.
When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.
They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right.
It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war.
They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to.
They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons.
Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.
Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.
When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them.
“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.”
“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said.
He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.
“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?”
Stack answered. “We been up North.”
“Where to?”
“Harlem.”
“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”
Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.”
“I know,” Jim replied.
“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.
Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”
“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added.
Both twins looked at Jim.
Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul.
Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.
Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface.
The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees.
Jim and his posse were long gone by now.
Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs.
Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago.
Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.
Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor.
“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.
Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”
“Big Jim.”
“I ain’t.”
Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.
Stack grumbled under his breath.
“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted.
“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”
Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”
Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about.
The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out.
Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm.
He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was.
He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull.
“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….”
Big Jim’s words echoed in his head.
And Stack’s.
He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam.
And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him.
But this one—
“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs.
A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.
“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”
Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.
His thoughts turned to Annie instead.
To the confession she made.
The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges.
Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way.
But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.
I ain’t never…
She looked vulnerable. Timid almost.
His chest tightened at the thought.
Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared.
It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.
It was deeper than that.
It was fear.
Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her.
He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard.
She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see.
She gave that to him.
And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.
Smoke’s jaw clenched.
He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again.
Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now.
Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.
It felt like Annie.
Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.
The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around.
Night-blooming jasmine.
That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces.
That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.
It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat.
Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.
Annie was the opposite of all of that.
While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.
Then another one.
He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.
“Got somewhere I wanna take you.”
Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road.
The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.
“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.
Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”
“Everybody doin’ good.”
“Good.”
Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully.
Smoke noticed and started probing.
“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”
“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.
“How your brothers be?”
Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.
“Hmm. And what they do?”
She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him.
Annie was her parent’s seventh child.
He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.
“What was his name?” he asked.
Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material.
Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks.
Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.
The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”
Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”
“The war.”
“I’m sorry.”
Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”
“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”
“The closest.”
Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.
The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water.
The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees.
On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island.
A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.
It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water.
A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother.
The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.
Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.
The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand.
His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.
Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.
The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows.
Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.
“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.
She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.
“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed.
But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.
He couldn’t stop looking at her.
The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.
“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.
Smoke smirked.
“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”
Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”
“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.”
“Why, thank you.”
Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice.
“What?”
Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.
“You hungry?” he asked.
Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar.
“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”
Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”
Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.
Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”
Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.
Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”
Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”
“Here.”
She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves.
Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”
“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.
Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.
“Trouble.”
“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”
The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.
“You come out here often?” she asked.
Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”
“For what?”
Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.
“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”
Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.
“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”
She leaned in and he met her halfway.
The front room was dim.
Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.
Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers.
“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”
“A cow,” Smoke said easily.
“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”
“What? Lemme see that…”
Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.
“It's a dog.”
“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”
Annie swatted him with the newspaper.
“What was that for?”
“For bein' a smart ass.”
Annie set the newspaper down.
“Givin' up already?”
She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.
Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”
“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.
Smoke sat back.
Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.
Not because he was scared.
He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.
But because he cared.
He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive.
And Annie loved it.
She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.
She melted into him.
He kissed the back of her shoulders first.
Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.
His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.
And Annie could feel everything.
His kisses became closer together.
Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her.
She finally let out a word that wrecked him.
“Elijah,” she gasped.
Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.
A sharp, sudden intake of breath.
It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.
It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.
She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.
Their faces met first.
They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses.
“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”
He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.
Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.
They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.
Almost.
But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.
Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.
The rumble of an engine.
Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.
Stack.
Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.
“He's back.”
Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.
Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.
He rubbed a hand down his face.
He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway.
Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.
Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.
He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.
He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face.
“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.
Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.
Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch.
“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”
Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “Leavin’ so soon?”
He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke.
“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm.
“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her.
“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner.
Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.
Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe.
The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.
“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.
“You did?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good,” he said quietly.
The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them.
-
-
<- Chapter 8
-> Masterlist
*Song by Bud Spires
Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!
Annie baby. I’m gon need you to go ahead and stretch. Smoke gon take you through there my baby. Bro been waiting patiently for my girl. 😩😭 I know it’s gon be slow and sweet. I’m so excited. I fear (in my Aniyah voice) Annie’s friends are as messy as me. 🥴😂
The next evening, the dinner rush is finally winding down.
The kitchen smells of butter, grilled steak, garlic, and fresh biscuits. The constant hiss of the flat top has settled into a steady rhythm, and the printer that had been spitting tickets nonstop all night finally grows quiet.
The silver boombox sits on the prep counter.
Quiet Storm fills the kitchen.
Then Dru Hill’s “Beauty” comes on.
Smoke smiles to himself as he wipes down the stainless-steel counter.
🎵 Walks by me every day…
Her and love are the same…
The woman that’s stolen my heart…
And beauty is her name… 🎵
Right on cue…The kitchen doors swing open. Annie.
Smoke looks up instinctively.
Their eyes meet. Almost immediately.
Neither of them looks away.
🎵 I’m hoping I can make you mine…
’Fore another man steals your heart… And once your beauty is mine
I swear we will never be apart🎵
Annie walks toward the service window with her ticket in hand.
She stops in front of the line.
A small smile finds her lips.
Smoke can’t help but smile back.
For a moment…Everything else fades.
The sizzling grills. The clatter of pans.
The conversations around them.
It’s just…Her. Her smile.
Those bright eyes looking back at him.
He swears she’s like a magnet.
Every time she walks into the kitchen…His eyes find her before he even realizes he’s looking.
🎵 ’Cause my eyes have seen the glory…In the coming of your smile… 🎵
Annie feels those familiar butterflies dance in her stomach.
She knows she’s staring.
She also knows…She doesn’t want to stop.
Neither of them breaks eye contact.
It almost turns into a silent challenge.
You look away.
No… you.
Across the galley, Lindsey notices.
She pauses with a tray in her hands.
Instead of interrupting…She watches.
Curious to see just how long they’re going to keep looking at each other.
Brandon notices too. He smirks to himself.
🎵 You are so beautiful…When I'm down and out (When I'm down) I never seem to get tired... (Tired of your love, ooh, tired of your love) of your love…You’re wonderful. I'm just dying to make you see Anything you want inside your heart (You can find right here inside of me)🎵
Smoke’s lips slowly curl into a grin.
Annie’s heart flips.
“Aye…” Brandon laughs. “You gon’ plate her food or not?”
Smoke blinks, finally pulled back into the kitchen around him.
He chuckles under his breath and starts plating the order.
Annie laughs quietly to herself.
Lindsey catches the smile.
Something about the way they look at each other makes her chest tighten.
She’d worked to break his walls down and still nothing.
He’d barely spoken more than a few words to her. He barely laughed or smiled at all.
Yet with Annie…He smiled. He teased.
He laughed. Like it came naturally.
Smoke slides Annie’s plates across the window…But leaves both hands resting on the edge of them.
Annie looks down. Then back up at him. She smiles.
This time…She doesn’t even try to grab them.
“You not gon’ take yo’ food?” Smoke asks with a grin.
Annie shakes her head. “Uh-uh. Take your hands off of it.”
Smoke raises an eyebrow. “Not till I hear that magic word leave them lips.”
Annie plants a hand on her hip.
A playful smile spreads across her face. “You don’t make nobody else say please.”
Smoke chuckles. “Here you go wit that shit. I don’t care about nobody else.” His eyes stay locked on hers. “Now say it…’Fore you keep that table waitin’.”
The words hit Annie harder than he probably intended.
I don’t care about nobody else.
Heat creeps into her cheeks.
Lindsey notices. She rolls her eyes.
Annie reaches for the plates anyway.
Smoke slides them back just enough that she misses.
She busts into laughter. “Oh my God…”
She rises onto her tiptoes, trying again.
Smoke laughs and lifts the plates just a little higher.
“Elijah…” Her tone is half warning…Half amused.
He grins. “Say it.”
She folds her arms dramatically. “Please.”
A satisfied smile spreads across Smoke’s face. “There you go. See? Was that so hard?”
Annie shakes her head. “Smoke…”
A smile slips through anyway. “Give me my food before I come around there and get it myself.”
Smoke laughs. “That a promise?”
She points at him. “No. It’s a threat.”
Both of them laugh.
Lindsey finally exhales loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Can I get my food too?”
The playful moment breaks.
Smoke immediately slides Annie’s plates the rest of the way to her.
She takes them with a grin. “’Bout time, Big Head.”
She hurries back toward the dining room.
Smoke watches her disappear through the swinging doors for just a second before returning his attention to the line.
He finishes Lindsey’s order and slides it across. Silently
Lindsey takes the plate. “Thanks.”
Her tone is polite.
Smoke simply nods and goes back to wiping down his station, while Brandon watches the whole exchange with an amused shake of his head.
He doesn’t say a word.
He doesn’t have to.
Everybody on the line can already see it.
Whatever was growing between Smoke and Annie…It wasn’t hard to miss anymore.
🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇🌇
Saturday finally rolls around.
Devin is behind the wheel of her mama’s Malibu while Ebony rides shotgun. Annie and Rhonda are in the backseat.
The car smells like vanilla body spray, cocoa butter, and Bath & Body Works lotion. Ashanti plays softly through the speakers while all four girls sing along between conversations.
Devin glances into the rearview mirror at Annie and Rhonda. “So…Did y’all tell them to bring some friends or family?”
Rhonda groans dramatically. “Yes, girl! Damn. How many times you gon’ ask?”
Annie laughs. “Devin, watch the road.”
Ebony cracks up in the passenger seat.
Rhonda shakes her head. “You ’bout to kill us ’cause you too eager to meet some niggas.”
The whole car erupts in laughter.
Tonight, every last one of them came dressed to impress. Lip gloss shining.
Fresh roller sets and wraps.
Perfume lingering in the air every time somebody moved.
They finally pull into Kemper Arena.
The parking lot is already overflowing with cars.
Music blasts from open windows.
People laugh across the lot.
Groups of friends make their way toward the entrance wearing oversized jerseys, throwback tees, fitted caps, baggy jeans, Apple Bottoms, and matching Air Force 1s.
The girls climb out.
Devin slowly scans the crowd. “Damn…This game always bring the fine niggas out.”
Rhonda nods in agreement. “Hell yeah. I’m scoutin’ tonight.”
Annie laughs. “What about Tobias?”
Rhonda waves her off. “Girl, what about him? We just talkin’. He ain’t my man.”
Ebony laughs. “You always do the most.”
Devin shrugs proudly. “I’m supposed to.”
All four girls laugh as they join the long line wrapping around the arena.
Inside…The arena is alive.
Bass rattles through the speakers.
The smell of popcorn, nachos, hot dogs, and pretzels fills the air.
Thousands of people buzz with excitement while the players warm up below.
The girls finally find their seats.
Ebony sits closest to the stairs.
Next to her is Devin. Then Rhonda.
Annie takes the seat further in the aisle.
She points toward the floor. “There go Hot Sauce!”
Rhonda practically jumps. “He fine as hell!”
Devin laughs. “I came here just for him.”
Ebony shoves her shoulder. “Shut up!”
They all busts into laughter.
Just then…Kevion and a couple of his friends walk in two rows below them.
“Kevion!” Devin yells.
He turns around instantly. “Aww shit! There go trouble!”
The two groups start yelling back and forth across the rows.
Kevion laughs before climbing the stairs with one of his boys.
They stop beside the girls, joking and catching up.
Outside…Smoke parks his truck.
He, Stack, Tobias, and Stack’s homeboy Ramon climb out.
The arena lights glow against the evening sky.
Groups of women walk toward the entrance laughing.
Stack immediately starts looking around. “Damn…I see some fine bitches already.”
Tobias sucks his teeth. “Here you go, nigga. We ain’t even got in the buildin’ yet.”
Stack grins. “Shit… You know I’m on the hunt from the car.”
Smoke just shakes his head.
The four of them head inside.
Almost immediately…Heads turn.
Women whisper to each other.
A couple openly stare.
Stack smirks. “I told y’all.”
Smoke ignores all of it.
They begin walking up the stairs toward their section.
Then…Smoke freezes.
His stomach instantly drops.
Annie.
She’s sitting with her friends. Laughing.
Two dudes are standing beside them talking. One of them says something that makes Annie throw her head back laughing.
Smoke swallows.
There goes that feeling again.
That tight feeling in his chest.
He doesn’t know why…But he doesn’t like seeing another man being the reason she’s smiling like that.
Her laugh… Her smile…Somehow they already feel special to him.
As Kevion and his friend head back down the stairs, they pass Smoke’s group.
Both groups instinctively size each other up. Quick mugs. Nothing said.
Just enough for each side to know the other noticed.
Smoke barely pays them any attention.
His eyes are already back on Annie.
Almost as if she feels him looking…
She turns her head. Their eyes meet.
Just like always. The noise around them disappears.
Annie feels her breath catch.
There he is. Standing a few steps away from her.
Looking directly at her.
Only…Something catches her attention.
Standing beside Tobias…Is another man with the exact same face as Smoke.
She blinks. Then looks back and forth between them.
Confused. Smoke notices.
A slow grin spreads across his face.
He gives her a little nod.
Annie laughs softly to herself.
He got a twin?
He never told her that.
Tobias smiles. “Sup, Rhonda.”
“Hey, Tobias.”
Devin points between all of them. “You gon’ introduce the rest of everybody?”
Tobias laughs. “Yeah.”
He points beside him. “This Stack.”
Then Ramon. “This Ramon.”
Finally… He points toward Smoke.
“And this Smoke.”
Every girl immediately looks at Annie.
Her cheeks warm.
Stack notices.
He grins to himself before looking at the girls. “What’s good? What y’all names is?”
They all introduce themselves.
Devin suddenly looks between Smoke and Stack. “Wait a minute…Y’all twins?”
Stack answers sarcastically without missing a beat. “Nah. We cousins.”
The girls busts out laughing.
“So stupid,” Ebony says.
Stack laughs too before his attention drifts to Devin.
Her skin practically glows beneath the arena lights. Her curls bounce every time she laughs.
Those bright eyes…Locked on…
Smoke.
Stack follows her gaze.
Sure enough…His brother is looking right back. Smiling. A real smile.
One Stack has almost never seen directed at a woman.
His eyebrow slowly rises.
So…This the mystery girl.
A grin spreads across his face.
Well…She off limits.
His eyes drift right back to Devin.
Who’s still looking at him. “Damn…The whole crew sexy as hell.”
The girls laugh.
Smoke cuts his eyes toward Stack.
“You done?”
Stack smirks. “I was just givin’ compliments.”
Ramon quietly smiles at Ebony.
She notices and smiles back before looking away.
Rhonda looks at Tobias. “Where y’all seats at?”
“Three rows up. “
“Oh…So y’all close.”
The lights begin to dim. The crowd erupts. The game is about to start.
Tobias nods toward the court. “We’ll see y’all after.”
“Oh, we definitely gon’ see y’all after.”
Stack says, never taking his eyes off Devin.
She bites her lip trying not to smile. “Aight then.”
The fellas turn and head toward their seats.
Smoke glances back one more time.
Annie is already looking at him.
He smiles. She smiles back.
Neither of them says a word.
They don’t have to.
Somehow…They’re already speaking the same language.
As soon as the guys disappear up the stairs, Devin turns around so fast she almost bumps into Rhonda. “Oh my God!”
She grabs both Rhonda and Annie’s arms.
“All them niggas fine as fuck, y’all!”
The girls bust into squeals and laughter, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.
Devin fans herself dramatically. “I was not prepared for that.”
Ebony shakes her head, still laughing. “Me neither.” She looks over at Annie. “Girl…I understand now.”
She points toward the section where the guys disappeared. “I’d be scared too.”
Annie covers her face with her hands, laughing. “I told y’all.”
Ebony nods. “Hell yeah. I see exactly why you ain’t call him after y’all met.”
Devin turns toward Rhonda. “And Tobias fine as hell too.” She pauses, shaking her head in disbelief. “Damn. It’s crazy every last one of ’em fine.” She grins. “But I need Stack.” She presses a hand against her chest. “I’m ‘bout to be actin’ shy like you, Annie.”
Annie rolls her eyes. “You so damn annoying.”
She can’t help but laugh anyway.
Rhonda laughs with them before motioning toward the court. “Shhh. Y’all…The game.”
They all turn their attention back to the floor just as the crowd erupts and the announcer’s voice booms through Kemper Arena.
The lights dim. The music gets louder.
And for a little while…
Basketball has everyone’s attention.
Well…Almost everyone’s.
Smoke tries to focus on the game.
The squeak of sneakers echoes across the hardwood while the crowd roars every time somebody gets crossed over. The announcer’s voice booms through the Arena, mixing with the bass thumping from the arena speakers.
But no matter how hard he tries…
His eyes keep drifting to the back of Annie’s head.
He watches her clap after every big play.
She jumps to her feet. “Go Hot Sauce!”
Smoke chuckles under his breath.
She really wasn’t exaggerating in that letter.
She loves sports.
She cheers at every big play, laughs when somebody gets embarrassed, and leans so far forward in her seat it’s like she’s on the court with them. He loves that.
Another thing they have in common.
Stack stands up with the crowd after another crazy dunk. “Let’s go!”
The whole arena erupts.
Annie glances over her shoulder.
Her eyes immediately find Smoke.
He’s already looking at her.
She blushes instantly before turning back around.
Smoke can’t help but grin.
About twenty minutes later, Annie stands.
“Where you goin’?” Devin asks.
“To get some food.”
“Oh, shit. I’m goin’ too.”
She hops up and follows Annie down the stairs.
Smoke watches them disappear into the crowd.
“I’ll be back.” He says to the fellas before standing.
Stack smirks to himself.
He already knows exactly where his brother is headed.
Smoke makes his way down toward the concession stand.
The smell of buttery popcorn, nachos, hot dogs, and soft pretzels fills the air. The line snakes halfway across the concourse.
Devin looks ahead and sighs. “Shit… this line long.”
“Yeah, girl,” Annie laughs. “But I’m hungry.”
Just then…A deep voice speaks from behind her. “You gon’ get me somethin’ too?”
Annie’s stomach flutters.
She’d know that voice anywhere.
Slowly…She turns around.
Smoke.
At that exact moment, Beyoncé’s “That’s How You Like It” starts pouring through the arena speakers.
🎶 I need a thug that’ll have my back
Do-rag, Nike Airs to match…Ain't nothin' wrong with that (That's how I like it, baby)
Where my thugs at?
White T-shirt, I love that🎶
Annie’s eyes slowly travel from the top of his head…Down. This time she really looks at him in the light where she can actually see without it being dark and without anyone blocking her view.
🎶The way you talk
The way you dress
The way you smile
I like the way you are
The way you ain't
I like your honesty, integrity
It levels me, so please don't ever change🎶
Smoke went all out today.
He’s wearing a Kobe Bryant Lakers throwback jersey over a crisp white tall tee.
A matching Lakers headband hugs his perfectly laid waves.
A sweatband wraps around one forearm.
Baggy Girbaud jeans hang perfectly over a fresh pair of purple-and-gold Air Force 1s.
A Jacob watch glitters beneath the arena lights every time he moves.
Diamond studs catch another flash.
Two platinum chains rest against his jersey.
Two platinum rings decorate his fingers.
His Cartier eyeglasses somehow make him look even better.
And then…His cologne reaches her.
Warm. Clean. Masculine.
It wraps around her before he even says another word.
🎶 I like the way you brush your hair…
I like the stylish clothes you wear… It's just the real things you do. That's why I wanna stick with you🎶
Annie forgets how to speak.
Lord…
He looks…Too damn good.
Those glasses should honestly be illegal.
He really got dressed today.
🎶 I hope you like my style
The way I dress
The way I flirt
Say yes. I hope you like my mind
The things I say🎶
Smoke notices the look in her eyes immediately.
A smug smile slowly spreads across his face.
Then it’s his turn.
His eyes slowly roam over Annie.
She’s wearing a Chicago Bulls jersey dress that falls perfectly against her frame.
Fresh black and red Jordan 13s.
The front of her hair is neatly twisted back into flat twists while the rest falls into soft, bouncy curls that brush her shoulders every time she moves. Gold hoop earrings swing gently as she turns her head. Her black Dooney & Bourke shoulder bag rests comfortably beneath her arm. A gold herringbone necklace catches the light against her skin. Gold bracelets softly clink together as she shifts.
And tucked into the cartilage of her ear…
That little magnetic earring.
🎶 I know you heard I'm a gangster
They say, ‘Stay away from them gangsters.’
They never change up, or pull they pants up
Well, baby girl, put ya foot down
Don't let 'em push you around, you know what you like🎶
Smoke’s heart pounds.
She always looks beautiful.
But today…She looks damn near unreal.
Like she walked straight out of one of those music videos everybody watched after school.
Devin looks Smoke up and down too. “Damn…”
She quickly looks between him and Annie.
The chemistry between them is so thick she almost feels like she’s interrupting something.
“What you say?” Annie finally manages.
Smoke grins. “You heard me. You gon’ get me somethin’ too?”
Annie giggles. “Yeah…What you want?”
Smoke laughs. “You know I’m just playin’. What you gettin’?”
“A hot dog…I guess.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“Mhm.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Get whatever you want, lil’ mama.”
Annie blinks. “Huh?”
“If you can ‘huh,’ you can hear. You heard me. Get whatever you want. I got you.”
Annie smiles nervously. “Smoke…”
Smoke raises one eyebrow. “Oh… now it’s Smoke? I see you tryna act brand new in front of yo’ lil’ friend.”
Devin busts out laughing.
Annie shoots her a look before looking back at him. “Elijah…You don’t have to—”
Smoke cuts her off. “What I tell you about that?”
Annie blushes.
Smoke steps a little closer.
Just enough that only she can hear him.
He leans toward her ear.
His voice drops into that deep bass she loves.
His cologne surrounds her again.
“Annika…Stop frontin’ in here. You know me. We ain’t strangers no more.”
A chill races down Annie’s spine.
Her stomach twists into knots.
He straightens back up.
Devin watches the entire exchange with wide eyes.
Oh… they got it bad.
Smoke looks over at her. “I got you too. Get whatever you want.”
Devin points to herself. “You for real?”
Smoke chuckles while looking back at Annie. “Yeah.”
Devin laughs. “Shit…You ain’t gotta tell me twice.”
Annie starts laughing.
By the time they reach the counter, they’re still smiling.
Annie orders a hot dog…Then popcorn.
Smoke nods toward the cashier. “Add two nachos.”
Annie turns around.
Smoke smirks. “Yeah. Get you some nachos too. They good as hell.”
Annie laughs and shakes her head. “You so extra.”
Smoke reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick knot of cash.
Without hesitation, he pays for everything.
The three of them start walking back toward their section.
Smoke carries the tray with the nachos while Annie balances the drinks.
As they walk, Smoke can’t stop looking at her side profile.
The arena lights catch her skin every few steps.
Her curls bounce as she laughs with Devin.
Annie tries to act like she doesn’t feel him staring.
He smiles to himself. “I know you feel me lookin’.”
Annie immediately laughs. “Stop. You’re makin’ me nervous.”
Smoke kisses his teeth. “There you go wit that. You gon’ have to get used to me lookin’.” He smiles. “You shouldn’t be so beautiful.”
Annie feels her face grow warm all over again.
She finally looks up at him. “Thank you, Elijah.”
Smoke hums in approval. “That’s better.”
They climb back up the stairs toward their seats.
Devin smiles. “Thanks again, Smoke.”
He nods once. “No problem.”
Then his eyes drift back to Annie. “See you afterwards.”
A grin spreads across her face. “See you.”
When Annie and Devin finally make it back to their seats, they’re balancing trays loaded down with food.
Rhonda’s eyes get wide. “Damn!”
She looks between the two of them. “Y’all got hella shit.”
Ebony starts laughing. “The hell y’all buy? The whole concession stand?”
Annie and Devin crack up as they carefully pass everything around.
Devin can’t even wait.
She points at Annie. “Annie’s man bought all this for us.”
Ebony’s mouth falls open. “Smoke bought all that?”
Devin nods. “Yep. He got it bad for Annie.”
She leans in with a grin. Y’all should’ve seen them flirtin’. I swear I felt like I was interruptin’ something.”
The girls immediately start squealing.
Devin keeps going. “He was callin’ her beautiful and shit. He could not stop lookin’ at her.”
Annie hides her face behind her cup, laughing. “Shut up, Devin.”
“Nope.” Devin points at her. “I ain’t lyin’.”She shakes her head. “Girl, you definitely upgraded from that nigga Ryan.”
Rhonda sucks her teeth dramatically. “Man…I should’ve known when he followed y’all to the concession stand he was finna spend some money.” She reaches over and steals a few pieces of Annie’s popcorn. “I missed out.”
Annie laughs and nudges her shoulder. “You snooze, you lose.”
The girls bust into laughter.
Devin shakes her head, still thinking about Smoke. “Nah, for real though.” She points toward the section where the guys are sitting. “You better hold on to that nigga. That’s one of the finest niggas I ever seen.”
She starts counting on her fingers. “He can dress. He smell good. He compliment you every chance he get. And not only did he spend his money on you…”
She gestures toward all the food spread across their laps. “He bought yo friends food too.”
She leans closer with a smirk. “Keep him, girl.”
Annie feels her cheeks grow warm.
She shakes her head, trying to hide her smile. “Y’all so damn extra.” But she can’t stop laughing. Deep down…
She knows every single one of them is right.
Smoke settles back into his seat with a bottle of water in one hand.
The game is back underway.
The crowd erupts after another ankle-breaking crossover, but before he can even sit all the way down…
Stack grins. “Aight…So we just gon’ act like we ain’t see what the hell just happened?”
Smoke keeps his eyes on the court “What happened?”
Tobias laughs. “This nigga.”
Ramon shakes his head. “You know exactly what happened.”
Smoke shrugs. “I went to get some food.”
“Yeah…” Stack says, drawing the words out. “You went to get Annie some food.”
The three of them laugh.
Smoke smirks but doesn’t answer.
Stack elbows him. “You bought food for the whole damn row.”
Smoke finally looks over. “So?”
“So?” Stack repeats. “Nigga, you don’t even buy me food.”
The fellas bust out laughing.
Smoke sucks his teeth. “You got money.”
“So do she,” Stack shoots back.
More laughter.
Tobias leans forward. “I ain’t never seen this nigga chase after nobody.”
Ramon nods. “He been watchin’ her the whole game.”
Smoke cuts his eyes toward Ramon.
“I been watchin’ the game.”
Stack lets out the loudest laugh yet.
“The game? Nigga, every time I looked over, you was lookin’ at Annie. You ain’t even know who had the ball.”
Smoke shakes his head. “Y’all doin’ too fuckin’ much.”
“Nah.” Stack points toward him. “You doin’ too much.” He starts counting on his fingers. “You been staring at her all night. You followed her to the concession stand. You paid for all they food.” He pauses dramatically. “And then…This nigga walked back up here starin’ at her the whole damn time.”
Tobias laughs so hard. “I peeped that shit too.”
Smoke can’t help but grin. “Aight damn. I was lookin’.”
“Damn right you was.” Stack says. “You was lookin’ so hard I thought you was finna walk into somebody.”
Smoke’s smile softens. “Nah. We just gettin’ to know each other.”
Tobias nods approvingly. “I respect that. But…” He smirks. “You definitely got it bad.”
Smoke looks down toward the court for a second before glancing back toward Annie’s section.
She laughs at something Devin says.
Almost like she can feel him…
She turns around. Their eyes meet from three sections away.
She smiles.
Smoke smiles right back.
Stack watches the exchange.
Then slowly looks back at his brother.
“Aww, hell.”
Smoke raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Stack laughs and points at him. “You gone.”
The fellas laugh again.
“Gone gone.”
Tobias nods. “I ain’t never seen this nigga smile this damn much.”
Ramon chuckles. “He different.”
Stack leans back in his seat, still grinning. “Nah…This ain’t just different.” He looks over at Smoke one more time. “I think my brother done found him one.”
Smoke doesn’t answer.
He simply glances back toward Annie one more time before returning his attention to the court.
The small smile on his face says more than any words ever could.
When the game ends, the arena empties in a wave of people.
The crowd spills into the parking lot, still buzzing about the crazy crossovers and dunks they just witnessed. Car doors slam, music starts blasting from every direction, and headlights cut through the chilly fall evening.
The girls make it outside first.
Not long after, Kevion and his friends spot them. “Aye!” Kevion calls out.
The girls stop to talk.
Annie laughs at something Kevion says, the sound carrying through the parking lot.
A few minutes later, Smoke, Stack, Tobias, and Ramon step outside.
Smoke instinctively starts scanning the crowd.
His eyes land on Annie almost immediately.
There she is. Standing in a circle…
Laughing with the same dudes from inside the arena.
His jaw tightens ever so slightly.
Who the fuck are those niggas?
He doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he keeps walking toward his truck like it doesn’t bother him at all.
He unlocks it, climbs inside for a second, then starts it.
Chingy’s “One Call Away” comes booming through the speakers.
The bass rolls across the parking lot.
The fellas post up. Leaning against the truck, talking while the song plays.
Smoke isn’t really listening.
His eyes drift back to Annie.
Just in time to see her hug the guy she’d been talking to.
His stomach flips. He swallows hard.
He doesn’t like that feeling.
Not one bit.
A few moments later, the girls finally head their way.
Devin grins. “Hey, y’all.”
Everybody exchanges greetings.
Devin’s eyes immediately find Stack.
She gives him a slow once over.
Stack is wearing a black Tim Duncan Spurs jersey over a white tee, baggy black jeans, and black-and-white Jordan 12s. Fresh braids frame his face, platinum shining in his mouth every time he smiles. A Rolex catches the parking lot lights while thick platinum chains rest against his chest.
He notices her looking.
A grin spreads across his face. “What’s good?”
Devin smiles right back. “Nothin’. What’s poppin’ with you?”
Stack chuckles. “Come find out.”
He nods his head, motioning for her to follow.
Without hesitation…Devin does.
The two of them wander off, talking and laughing almost immediately.
Smoke shakes his head. “That nigga don’t waste no time.”
Tobias laughs before turning toward Rhonda. The two of them quickly fall into their own conversation.
That leaves…Smoke. Annie. Ebony.
And Ramon.
Smoke and Annie lock eyes.
Neither of them says anything.
Chingy continues playing from the truck.
🎶 I seen it in her eye…
Mama lookin’ like all I wanted was sex…Then moved to the next (that ain't true) But it was something about this girl's style that make me feel no regrets🎶
Smoke slowly holds his hand out. “Come here. Come talk to me for a minute.”
🎶Afraid she might think I'm in a rush to touch, crush and be up
But baby, I ain't on that stuff🎶
Annie glances over at Ebony.
Ebony smiles knowingly. “Go, girl.”
Annie smiles shyly before slipping her hand into Smoke’s.
His fingers close around hers.
Warm. Gentle.
He leads her around to the back of the truck.
Ebony stays behind, chatting with Ramon.
Smoke lowers the tailgate.
The metal thumps softly into place.
They sit side by side.
Close enough that their shoulders brush every few seconds.
🎶If you're rolling with me baby, hop in, it's enough room
We can gaze at the stars and shine like the moon
Give me a chance to show ya and a chance to know ya
Just be true and there's nothing I won't do for ya🎶
A soft breeze drifts through the parking lot.
Annie’s perfume floats toward him.
Sweet. Light. Familiar.
Smoke smiles to himself. “So…You enjoy the game?”
Annie nods. “Yeah. I did.”
Smoke chuckles. “I could tell.”
She cuts her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You was hella into it. I heard you over everybody.”
Annie throws her head back laughing.
“Oh, whatever. You could not.”
“I definitely could.”
She clicks her tongue. “You could only hear me ‘cause you was lookin’ at me all night.”
Smoke pauses. Then laughs. “Damn. You right. I couldn’t help it though.”
Annie giggles. “Here you go, Elijah Blowin’ my head up again.”
“My bad.” He shrugs. “I’m just bein’ honest. You a magnet.”
Annie smiles. “So are you.”
Smoke grins. “Thanks. I see I almost made you pass out again today.”
She tries to hold in her laugh.
Fails miserably. “Damn. Just expose me, why don’t you?”
Smoke laughs. “It’s okay…’Cause you almost made me do the same.”
Annie raises an eyebrow. “Oh, please, Big Head.”
“I’m serious. I knew you was gon’ be lookin’ good as hell today…” He slowly shakes his head. “But shit…You exceeded what I expected.”
Heat spreads across Annie’s cheeks.
“I can say the same thing about you.” She smiles. “And why ain’t you tell me you had a twin?”
Smoke exhales through his nose. “‘Cause you ain’t ask.”
Annie laughs. “Oh, okay, Elijah.” She nudges his shoulder. “So what’s it like… havin’ a twin?”
Smoke leans back a little, looking up.
“Shit…That’s a loaded answer.”
He looks out across the crowded parking lot. “Maybe one day I can really go into depth. But to sum it up…It’s different than most sibling relationships. You share everything. So sometimes you struggle to figure out who you are outside of bein’ a twin. You got this bond…No matter what happen…It don’t break.” He smiles to himself. “It’s a blessin’…And a curse.”
Silence settles between them.
Annie thinks about his words.
“I get that.” She nods slowly. “Havin’ siblings is already hard enough. So I could only imagine.” She smiles. “Y’all do seem like complete opposites though.”
Smoke chuckles. “In some ways. But deep down… We mostly the same.”
Annie smiles. “That’s actually beautiful when you think about it. Always havin’ somebody in your corner.”
Smoke hums. “Yeah.” He glances at her. “You seem to got that kinda bond wit yo’ brother too.”
Annie looks over at him. “How you know that?”
“‘Cause I watched y’all at the rink.” He smiles. “And I hear how y’all joke every time we on the phone.”
Annie’s expression softens. “Yeah…We close. He’s one of my best friends.”
“I can tell.” Smoke hesitates for a second before admitting, “I gotta confess somethin’.”
Annie raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“At first…I thought he was yo’ man at the skating rink.”
Annie’s face scrunches up instantly.
“What? Eww. No.”
Smoke laughs. “Y’all was holdin’ hands and shit. I just assumed.”
She laughs. “Well…That’s what you get for assumin’.”
Smoke smirks. “Oh…So I guess I shouldn’t assume the nigga you was just huggin’ earlier yo man either.”
Annie looks confused…Then remembers Kevion. “Oh!” She laughs. “Eww, no, Elijah. Kevion just my friend. He’s like a brother to me.”
Smoke raises an eyebrow. “Y’all women love havin’ play brothers and shit.”
Annie smiles. “I mean…Relationships between a man and woman don’t always gotta be romantic. They can be strictly platonic too.”
Smoke thinks for a moment and there’s a minute of silence.
Annie breaks it “So you don’t think it’s possible?”
Smoke shrugs. “I don’t know. I ain’t never done it. And nobody around me has either. That ain’t sayin’ it can’t happen. It’s just…Different from what I’m used to.”
Annie nods. “Well…I’m here to tell you it can.”
Smoke smiles. “Aight then. I believe you, lil’ mama.”
Comfortable silence settles over them.
The music continues playing.
People laugh nearby. Car doors slam.
Someone starts another vehicle a few rows over.
Smoke glances sideways.
She’s looking everywhere…Except at him.
A grin slowly tugs at his lips. “You still can’t look at me?”
Annie smirks. “I can.”
His voice drops lower. “Prove it…Look at me.”
Her heart immediately starts racing.
She shakes her head.
Then…Slowly…She turns toward him.
Her eyes lift to meet his. Just for a second. Before they fall again.
Smoke smiles.
He reaches over gently and tips her chin upward with his thumb and index finger. “There you go.” He holds her gaze. “I need you to get used to lookin’ at me up close. Not just when we across the room.” His voice softens. “I wanna see these pretty eyes up close. We ain’t at work…So I can get lost in ’em now.”
Annie’s throat goes dry.
Butterflies erupt inside her stomach.
She can’t think. Can’t speak.
His sleepy eyes stay locked on hers.
Finally…He smiles. “You so pretty, Annika. Don’t be afraid to let me see you.”
Annie swallows. Then gives the smallest nod.
Before she can find the words…
Stack’s voice rings out across the parking lot.
“Aye! Y’all come around here and hit this blunt!”
Smoke sighs through his nose and lets his hand fall away.
“Saved by yo brother,” Annie teases softly.
Smoke laughs. “For now.”
He stands first, then offers her his hand. She takes it.
He helps her down from the tailgate.
Together, they walk back around the truck to join everyone else.
When they make it back around the truck, everyone naturally falls into a circle while Chingy’s “Holidae Inn” is bumping through the speakers. Cars are slowly pulling out of the parking lot, headlights sweeping across the pavement as people laugh, talk, and relive their favorite plays from the game.
Stack finishes rolling the blunt and sparks it.
He takes the first hit before holding it out toward Annie. “Aye, Annie.”
Before Annie can even open her mouth to politely turn it down..Smack.
Smoke knocks Stack’s hand away.
Stack looks at him like he done lost his damn mind. “The fuck?”
Smoke shrugs like it isn’t a big deal.
“Nah.”
Annie lets out a small, nervous laugh, surprised by how quickly he reacted.
Stack studies his brother for a second before shaking his head. “Aight then.”
He turns toward Devin instead. “Here.”
Devin grins. “Shit, don’t mind if I do.”
She takes a hit before passing it to Tobias.
Tobias inhales and passes it over to Rhonda.
Rhonda takes her turn before holding it out toward Ebony.
Ebony shakes her head. “I’m good.”
Ramon takes it next.
Then…He passes it to Smoke.
Smoke brings it to his lips and takes a slow pull.
He tips his head back slightly before letting the smoke drift from his mouth up his nose.
Annie quietly watches him.
She’d had a feeling he smoked.
He hustled.
And plenty of times after lunch breaks at Red Lobster, he’d come back with the other cooks wearing that same relaxed expression and those heavy, sleepy eyes.
For some reason…Knowing she was right makes her smile to herself.
It doesn’t make her think less of him.
If anything…It reminds her that he never expected her to do something just because he did.
He could’ve easily let Stack hand it to her.
Instead…Without making a scene…
He stopped it.
Something about that small gesture makes her heart soften.
He looked out for her without trying to embarrass her. She liked that.
More than she’d probably admit.
A few minutes later, the blunt burns down to nothing.
Rhonda suddenly reaches into her purse. “Oh!” She pulls out a yellow disposable Kodak camera. “Come on, y’all. We gotta get some pictures.”
Everybody laughs.
Tobias takes the camera first.
He snaps a few pictures of the girls together.
The flash pops brightly against the night sky.
Next…Rhonda takes a picture of all the fellas standing together in front of Smoke’s truck.
After that, she looks around.
A group of girls is standing beside a nearby car.
“Excuse me. Can you take one of all of us?”
One of the girls smiles. “Yeah, I got you.”
She walks over and takes the camera.
As everyone gets into position…
Her eyes linger.
Mostly…On Smoke.
Annie notices.
A strange feeling settles in her chest.
Not anger. Not exactly.
Just…Discomfort.
She suddenly realizes something.
If things between her and Smoke keep growing…Women looking at him…
Probably won’t be a rare thing.
He was fine.
She couldn’t even blame them.
That didn’t mean she had to like it.
Everybody finds their spots.
Tobias slips an arm around Rhonda’s shoulders.
Ramon kneels down in front of Ebony with a grin.
Stack turns toward Devin.
Before she knows what’s happening…
He casually rests a hand against her ass.
Devin busts into laughter. “You bold.”
“I know.” Stack says with a smirk.
Smoke steps beside Annie.
At first, he drapes an arm across her shoulders.
Then…Almost instinctively…
His hand slides lower until it rests comfortably around her waist.
He gently guides her in front of him.
His other hand settles lightly against her stomach.
Annie’s heart pounds so loudly she’s convinced everyone can hear it.
Smoke lowers his head slightly until it rests near her shoulder.
She can feel the warmth of his breath.
The girl holding the camera notices.
Her smile fades for just a second.
She quickly snaps the picture anyway.
Flash.
The moment is frozen forever.
Everyone thanks her before breaking apart.
The conversations naturally split back up.
Stack wastes no time. “So…” He looks at Devin. “You gon’ give me yo’ number or what?”
Devin smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They exchange numbers.
Not too far away…Ramon asks Ebony for hers.
She smiles before giving it to him too.
Meanwhile…
Smoke nods toward a quieter spot.
Annie follows him a few steps away from everyone else.
Smoke slides both hands into his pockets. “I’m gon’ call you later on. That aight?”
Annie smiles. “Of course.”
He nods. “Good.” A soft smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad I got to spend some time wit you today.”
“Me too.”
Silence settles between them.
Neither seems to mind it.
They simply look at one another.
Finally…Smoke clears his throat.
“Can I have a hug before you go?”
Annie smiles wider. “Yes, Elijah.”
His dimples immediately appear.
He steps closer. His arms wrap comfortably around her waist.
Annie slides hers around his neck.
The moment they touch…Something shifts.
Neither of them expected a simple hug to feel like this.
Smoke buries his face gently against the side of her neck.
She smells like brown sugar and vanilla. Warm. Sweet. Comforting.
He closes his eyes for a second.
His arms tighten just a little.
Not enough to make her uncomfortable.
Just enough to silently say…
I don’t really wanna let you go yet.
Annie smiles into his shoulder.
She doesn’t rush to pull away either.
For a few quiet seconds…
The rest of the parking lot disappears.
Devin notices first. She elbows Rhonda. The two of them start giggling.
Stack shakes his head. “Aye, nigga!” He laughs. “Let her go before you squeeze her to death.”
Smoke and Annie break apart laughing.
He reaches down and catches her hand one last time.
Giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
Annie nods. “See you.”
She reluctantly lets go and walks back toward the girls.
Smoke stays exactly where he is.
Watching her.
She glances back once before climbing into Devin’s mom’s car.
Smoke smiles to himself.
Only after the car disappears into the stream of traffic…Does he finally climb into his truck…
🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆🌆
The next morning, a loud knock echoes through Smoke’s small house.
He groans, rolling over to look at the clock. 9:17 a.m.
“Damn…”
Another knock follows. More impatient this time.
Smoke throws the covers back, pulls on a white T-shirt, and walks to the front door.
The moment he opens it…He sighs.
“Monica.”
She stands on the porch with her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Her lips are pressed into a thin line.
“We need to talk.”
Smoke steps aside.
She walks in without waiting for an invitation.
He shuts the door behind her.
She turns to face him.
“Shatara saw you at Skateland”
Smoke’s expression doesn’t change.
“…Okay. And?”
Monica folds her arms even tighter.
“She said you was all hugged up wit some girl.”
Smoke lets out a quiet breath. “So?”
Monica’s eyebrows shoot up. “So?That’s all you gotta say?”
Smoke shrugs. “What you want me to say?”
She takes a step toward him. “Now you wanna be hugged up and kissin’ bitches, but never wanted to be seen in public wit no bitch not even me. I wanna know who she is.”
Smoke shakes his head once.
“Nah. You don’t need to know that.”
Monica scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“I said… You don’t need to know.”
Her frustration grows. “Why? What make her so special you won’t even say her name?”
Smoke leans against the wall, completely unbothered.
“‘Cause it ain’t none of yo business.”
Monica laughs in disbelief. “It is my business.”
Smoke immediately shakes his head.
“No. It ain’t.” He looks her square in the eyes. “We ain’t together. We never was. I don’t owe you or no other woman no explanations.”
His words sting.
Monica looks away for a second before looking back. “So that’s it? You just movin’ on?”
Smoke sighs. “I’m livin’ my life. I never lied to you. I never told you we was together. I never promised you nothin’.”
Monica studies his face. “You really like her.”
Smoke doesn’t answer.
The silence says enough.
Monica feels her stomach sink.
“So that’s why you won’t tell me.”
Smoke exhales. “Monica…Let it go.”
She shakes her head.
“I can’t let it go. Shatara said you couldn’t keep yo fuckin’ eyes off her.”
Smoke chuckles under his breath.
“Yo friend need to mind her fuckin’ business.”
“My point exactly.” Monica snaps. “So who is she?”
Smoke’s expression hardens. “I said leave it alone.”
She folds her arms again. “I’ma find out.”
Smoke nods slowly. “You do what you feel like you gotta do. But don’t drag somebody else into this.” His voice is calm, but firm. “She ain’t did shit to you. We not together. So whoever I spend my time wit…ain’t got nothin’ to do wit you and if I find out you did anything to her. I promise I’m gon’ make you regret that shit for as long as you live.”
Monica searches his face one last time, hoping he’ll change his mind.
He doesn’t.
Smoke opens the front door. “I ain’t got shit else to say.”
Monica walks past him, stopping on the porch.
She looks back over her shoulder.
“I’ma find out who she is.”
Smoke meets her eyes.
“Or…” He shrugs. “You could just let it go.”
She doesn’t respond.
She climbs into her car and drives away.
Smoke watches her disappear down the street before rubbing a hand over his face.
“Damn.”
He has a feeling this conversation isn’t over. Not by a long shot…
Part 1
Part 2
Y’all Smoke has it bad. I know Smoke doesn’t smile but I wanted to capture how Annie is slowly changing him. It’s a natural reflex at this point. She also got my boy feeling jealous and ready to conquer the world for her. ‘I fear’ (in my Aniyah voice) Annie really is that girl. . Also Stack just overly going. Baby mama and all. 🥴😩😂
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.
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😭
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😏…
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.
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
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….
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….
gamechangershow
titsay
2087
snowghoul
stormborns
