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Here is some of the alternate version of the abandoned fic. In this one, the ages are still the same but the circumstances of the arrangement are different. Annie's daddy loses the deed when he was gambling and promises Annie to Smoke in exchange for the deed back. Big Mama in this version is softer to Smoke--Marcy isn't. Aunt Helen also doesn't exist in this version.
May 26, 1954
The gray clouds gathered in the sky as the wind whistled through tin roofs in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Annie ran from her granny’s shack with bottles of herbs, oils, and tinctures rolling together in her bundled skirts. A streak of light scattered across the sky followed by a deafening BOOM that shook the ground and made Annie stumble a bit. She picked up the pace and ran into the front door of her Big Mama’s house. Inside, she carefully rolled the bottles into the basket she previously forgot to take with her.
She walked into the kitchen with the basket and placed it on the small wooden table next to the back door. Outside the window, the sky had grown darker and the wind whipped furiously. A loud crack of thunder rattled the windows and seemed to make the house jump in fright. Annie leaned against the tabletop gripping the edge to calm her racing heart and stop her hands from shaking. If that thunder had a face, she would’ve ran her blade across it. Her breath came slower and slower as she pictured the warm sun illuminating the greenery of the unending fields and a clear sky running across her small corner of the world. May storms were as brutal as they were loud; dropping large hail and tornadoes wherever they saw fit. This year no mercy had been spared as hundreds lost their homes to the angry air.
“Annie! Make sure ain’t nothing plugged in down there!” She heard Big Mama yell from upstairs, likely in her bedroom.
Immediately, Annie ran through the den to check the few electronic things they had: the t.v., radio, and lamp had already been unplugged. All the lights had been turned off and a row of candles stood on the mantle of the fireplace. She heard the stairs creak under Big Mama’s footsteps as the older woman made her way down to the lower level.
“I think this one got more bark than anything,” she observed standing in front of the mesh screen door. Her feet were slightly apart and her hands were clasped behind her back. All sixty-three years of wisdom showed in her gray hair as her deep brown face had so few wrinkles, people often thought she was lying about her age. “Just God puttin’ on a show.”
Annie joined her at the door and looked out into the horizon where lightning danced in the sky. “You sho he ain’t tryna take nobody up there with him?” She couldn’t trust those low-hanging clouds not to start spinning at any moment.
Big Mama grabbed Annie’s hand and held it up to the mesh on the screen door. “What’cha feel there?”
The wind cooled Annie’s hand where it whistled through the tiny squares on the mesh. “It’s just the wind blowing hard.” She wanted to trust her grandma but her eyes saw danger so what did it matter what she felt through this damn door?
“Uh-uh, that ain’t all. What else ya feel?” Big Mama squeezed her wrist once encouraging her to close her eyes.
With her eyes closed, Annie felt the wind pushing against her hand with its might. It was strong but it was also consistent, not jumpy. “It ain’t moving around, it’s just goin one way. It’s stable.” She opened her eyes and looked at Big Mama who had a knowing smirk on her face. “Might could change its mind though.” She crossed her arms in front of her.
Big Mama shrugged. “Could. Seem to know where it need to be though. Ain’t here for too much longer.” She walked away, her posture slightly bent from all the years of tending to crops, raising her children and grandchildren, and praying protection over each of them. “Ya mama ain’t never believe me either at first. But I bet she at home right now sitting on the porch. If y’all ain’t the same.” A chuckle left her slight frame.
Annie trailed behind her all too used to being compared to her mama. “What you want to eat tonight, Big Mama? There’s still some greens in the icebox I can warm up for ya. I’ll make some cornbread and I can fry up the rest of that fish J.J. sent.”
Her grandma waved her off as she walked into the den. “Come on sit down. We’ll worry about that later. Just let the Lord work.” She nodded towards the window as heavy rain fell down, soaking the Earth.
There was still enough light in the sky that filtered through the small window to make the big pieces of furniture visible to the two women. Big Mama sat on the couch letting out that sigh that older people do when they’ve said enough, saw enough, and heard enough for the day. Annie laid down beside her and put her head in her lap. Big Mama would never say she had a favorite child or grandchild but as she stroked Annie’s coily hair and hummed a gospel melody, it would be clear to anyone that walked in who she prayed and hoped for the most.
Annie joined her in humming but quickly drifted off to sleep with dreams of walking through smoke-filled streets in a place she’d never seen in real life.
****
When she woke, Annie was shrouded in darkness but heard the sounds of her grandma moving around in the kitchen. She shot up and rushed to where Big Mama was. “Why you doin that?” Annie moved to stop her grandma. The heat from the wood-burning stove smothered the kitchen.
The older woman was adding coated fish to a skillet of bubbling grease. “Girl, don’t worry ‘bout me. You gone start the cornbread mix.” She went back to frying the fish.
Gritting her teeth, Annie pulled out the canisters that held the cornmeal and flour and a glass bowl from under the cabinet. A few eggs from their hens sat out on the counter. Over the sound of the popping grease, she heard the wood from the screen door rattle. The storm had passed so it couldn’t be the wind. She peaked down the dark hall and saw a dark figure shaking the door to get in.
“Mama! Annie! Open the door!” It was the stressed voice of Annie’s mama, Marceline.
Dashing to the door, Annie unlatched it and was immediately bombarded with her mama’s heavy purse being pushed into her stomach. The wind in her body escaped her. She drew it back in while dropping the purse to the floor. “Mama, damn, what’s wrong?” Looking her over for signs of injury, she noticed that she was in her night coat.
Her mother glared at her with a severe look for the profanity but instantly broke into tears. “Your damn daddy! Even in death the bastard still ain’ no good. I looked the other way with the women and the drinkin. Long as you and Jeanie had what y’all needed from him, wasn’t no problem. But—” She covered her mouth as tears fell down her face.
Big Mama had joined them, no doubt removing the pot from the eye before rushing in to see her eldest daughter break down. She wrapped her arms around Marcy’s shoulders and guided her into the den with Annie following behind. “What’s goin on wit’cha, Marcy?” They both sat on the couch as Annie plugged in the lamp that covered everything in a dim glow.
Marcy wiped her nose with a wrinkled handkerchief. “Robert—ain’ no way God ‘low a man like that to walk past the Pearly Gates, Mama. I know you don’t like ugly talk ‘bout the dead but I bet the devil got a new friend when that last drink took Robert away.” She broke into sobs again.
Annie sat beside her rubbing her back. She was no stranger to her father’s philandering ways but she never seen her mama this torn up about him. For most of her life, her mama was apathetic and sometimes cold to him but she never shed a tear for him, not even when he died almost a year ago. A lump formed in her throat hearing her mama cry. “What Daddy do from the grave, Mama?” She looked closely at her mama, wondering if some kind of spirit got a hold of her.
Marcy turned to her youngest daughter and grabbed her hands. “I ain’t givin’ you up, Annie. No matter what yo lyin ass daddy did.”
Her eyebrow raised in confusion. “What’chu mean, mama? What did daddy do?”
Marcy breathed in deeply like she was trying to summon all the courage within her. “Last March, when he went to Chicago to visit his brother, he turned up at one of the twins’ gamblin’ houses up there.”
“The twins?” Annie tried to recall the names of any twins she might’ve known in Chicago and the only ones that came to mind were— “The TWINS!” Her heart pounded like she had just heard another crash of thunder. The Moore twins—Smoke and Stack.
They had a reputation that spanned from Louisiana all the way to Chicago and probably some places overseas since they served during the second Great War. They were called up for duty just one week after their drunkard daddy went missing. The brothers never bothered answering questions about him and after a while, folks stopped asking in fear they’d disappear too. When they returned from war, they opened some juke joints on either side of the Delta in Arkansas and Mississippi. The gambling rooms became a major source of interest for men who had worked in fields and factories all day and wanted to take a chance on winning big.
In the Delta though, men racked up way more debts than they could pay. Very few of them had much money or land to put on the line so the twins closed the joints and went North for some real money. Word spread down the river that they opened a few in Chicago and they were making money like nobody’s business. And they knew how to deal with the folks with large debts. The twins always made sure to collect.
“I always kept the deed to the land under the mattress. It’s been there almost long as you been alive, Annie.” Marcy paused again to suck in a breath.
Big Mama stood up, her small form more intimidating than anyone Annie had ever seen. “If that nigga done gambled away my granddaddy land, I’m diggin him up and killin him again, Marcy.” It sounded like eight voices wrapped in one when she spoke.
Marcy shook her head. “When he couldn’t pay his debts, the twins’ goons pulled him into the back and shook him down. Found the deed in his pocket.”
The rage inside Annie heated her face as she listened to her mother.
“I got got a letter today.” This brought back heaving sobs. “Sendin’ condolences and sayin’ that Robert’s death didn’t change the deal they made with him. The mean one, Smoke, he wrote they’ll give the deed back when he marry you.” She looked down, ashamed that the words had left her lips. “I’ll kill him myself if I have to, but he ain’t takin’ you from me.” She threw her arms around her daughter and cried into her shoulder.
Annie’ was reeling at her mother’s words. Marry Smoke Moore? She started laughing, her body shaking and tears at the corners of her eyes. “Mama, you sho this ain’ one of Sissy’s jokes? She really do make herself sound believable! ‘Member she had Tiny thinkin’ she won a prize out that magazine she wrote in for? Anyway, what Smoke Moore gone want with a country Delta girl when he a Northern man?” She gestured to her body whose frame held wide hips, buxom chest, and a slight pudge on her belly. “And a big girl at that! Sissy a fool sometimes.” She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the rocking chair next to the fireplace like she just solved all of their issues.
Her mama pulled an envelope out of her pocket and walked it over to Annie. “This one came for you.” She carefully placed it in her hand like she was scared it would explode.
Annie stared down at the already open envelope addressed to her. She pulled out the letter and scanned it. The letter wasn’t long. It was mostly Smoke introducing himself and how he was able to provide a good life for her. He ended with stating that he would be in Clarksdale to meet her on May 27th and wanted to take some time getting to know her before they were married and returned to Chicago by early September.
Yours Truly, Elijah Moore
She sat in silence for a moment. She could feel the only life she’d known being ripped away. But what was the alternative? Let two thugs just take her family’s land because her daddy wasn’t worth the dirt on the bottom of her boots? Without giving it more thought, she turned to Big Mama and Marcy and said, “He’ll be here tomorrow. I need my hair to look nice.”
Marcy ripped the letter out of her hand and threw it on the ground. “No! I will see him dead before he even thinks about seein you! He can join ya stupid ass daddy!”
Looking over to Big Mama, Annie tried to read her. Her face had showed no emotion other than general concern. Her hands rested in her lap as she made eye-contact with her granddaughter. “This Annie road now, Marceline. You gotta let her walk it like I let you walk yours.” She stood up and walked over to Annie to gently grab her face. “This ain’t on you to walk alone, Annie. It ain’t on you to save what yo daddy threw away. I won’t love you no different.”
Taking her grandma’s hand in hers, Annie looked deep into her eyes which were like her own. “I want curls in my hair and I’m gonna wear that blue dress you made me.”
One lone tear dripped down Big Mama’s smooth face and she fell to her knees. “I been prayin for you everyday since you was born and they said you was too small to make it. I been askin God and anyone that’ll listen to give ya a good heart and make it strong. I been burnin sage and incense to keep folk an’ spirits that’ll harm ya away from you. An’ I know all that ain’t been fa nothin cuz I got ya worryin’ over me everyday when you can be out shamin’ ya family an’ bringin in a bunch of babies from whoever. I got ya here bein strong with yo lot when you can be runnin away.”
Annie got down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her grandma. She inhaled her sweet honey scent, committing it to memory. A warmth spread through her as she started humming Big Mama’s favorite gospel tune.
********
The moment arrived quicker than Annie expected it to. She could only focus on the details of her grandma’s finely decorated living room. There were two large windows that allowed the sun to light up the space, highlighting the elegant floral furniture that Big Mama had brought down from up North. Tassels hung from the lampshades, making Annie feel like she was in a fine living magazine. The red carpet was as pristine as the day it was put in, a testament to how often folks were allowed in here.
Heavy footsteps treaded closer, not ones she was used to. She sat up straight, attempting to exude bravery but her rapid heartbeat and sweaty palms betrayed her. She bolted up right as a male figure walked through the doorway. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress and she took a step back at who stood before her. Smoke Moore.
Her eyes scanned him all over. He had on a dark three-piece tweed suit that looked like it was made to take on this Mississippi heat. Under the vest was a light blue collared shirt that matched Annie’s dress perfectly. She also noted the golf hat that paired well with everything else he had on but what stole her breath away was his face. A slight scowl made itself home there but it wasn’t out of anger—well not completely. To Annie, it looked like that is just how it was made and it worked for him.
“You Miss Annie?” He had surveyed her, just as she did him. Something that looked like a smile briefly flashed across his face allowing Annie a glimpse at his dimples. He held up a bouquet of flowers wrapped in fine tissue paper. “I got these for you. Think you might like this sort of thing.”
Annie raised an eyebrow, looking critically at the flowers. “What sort of thing, Mr. Moore?” She made no move to accept them.
The confusion was etched on his handsome face. He cleared his throat. “Well, I—uh, I figured you like a man bringin you flowers. Makin’ things look pretty.”
She put her hand on her hip, a little surprised at how nervous he seemed. “Things don’t look pretty enough for you right now, Mr. Moore?”
“Now that’s not what I said. I just meant—” He pulled at his collar, struggling to find words to explain himself correctly.
She reached out to take the flowers from him. “I’m just havin’ you on, Mr. Moore. Ain’ no man ever give me flowers like this. Thank you.” She gave him a nervous smile afraid she might’ve upset him.
Relief flooded his features as a real smile broke out across his face. “You had me sweatin’! Thought I did some wrong.” The walked over and took a seat on the big couch.
A pang shot through her heart as she remembered why they were here. “Mr. Moore, you ain’ gotta pretend to wanna court me. We know why you here and why I’m here too.” She chose to avoid looking directly at him for fear she’d break out in tears.
“I know I ain’ what you was ‘spectin when you thought ‘bout settlin’ down. I—I think we can make it work though.” His clenched fists sat on his lap as he stumbled through his words.
It caught Annie’s attention but she didn’t say anything. He fought his way through life and maybe that’s what he was doing here, fighting his way through with his fists balled up and a frown on his face. Annie didn’t know how to respond, so she simply looked down at her lap.
Smoke reached into his jacket pocket and held up a small box. “Girl like you deserve a fella willin’ to get down on one knee.” He moved to kneel in front of her, grabbing her left hand.
A jolt ran through her when their hands touched. It was unfamiliar but not wholly unpleasant, causing her to sit straight up and her heart to beat like she had just finished running in from the fields. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she looked at the man before her on one knee. Beyond his hard eyes was almost a softness that made Annie curious.
“Miss Annie Love, you may heard a lot about me. Lot of it ain’t good and a lot of it true, but I’m gonna keep ya safe and I’ll take care of ya if you agree to be my wife.” He opened the box and nestled between soft velvet was a diamond ring nicer than any piece of jewelry Annie ever seen up close and she had a pretty decent collection of her own jewelry that was passed down to her.
The size of it shook her so, she jumped to her feet, nearly knocking Smoke down in the process. “What you go out and buy this for? That ain’t fit to be wearin’ out in no fields or when we down at the slaughter house. You ain’t gotta spoil me, Mr. Moore, you already got me.” Her hand was still in his like there was something keeping her from pulling away.
“I want my woman to have what’s best. You ain’t gotta be out in the fields or slaughter house with me.” There was a hard edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Maybe it was meant to scare Annie a little bit but it just frustrated her.
She huffed in annoyance at his claim on her. “I ain’t yo woman just yet Mr. Moore. Not until the preacher man say so.”
Chuckling under his breath, he pulled the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. “Ain’t you? You said I already got ya, so I reckon you my woman and everybody gone know it, right?” His eyes bore into hers like he was staring into the deepest parts of her soul.
Not wanting to reveal just how much his words made her stomach flutter, she nodded in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Moore.” Why was she feeling this? She didn’t know this man from Adam and here he was claiming her—a prize he won in a card game—and she felt none of the hatred or fear she did this morning. The ring felt heavy on her finger as she inspected the way it looked on her hand. Goodness, she’d have to carry the pistol her granddaddy bought her to keep folks away from this when she went into town. And he’d even gotten the right size. “How you get the fit so right?” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
He stood up and held his hands in front of him. “Now, this was my doin’ so you gone take it out on somebody, take it out on me.” Guilt briefly flashed in his eyes. “I looked ya sister, Jeanie, up in Chicago had her help me and made her promise to not say nothin’ ‘bout it.”
A lump formed in her throat. “Jeanie?” Her older sister, her best friend besides Pearline. They told each other everything and kept each other’s secrets. Like the time Jeanie snuck out of the house to sing at a juke joint with Pearline. Annie pretended to have a nightmare so she could sleep in their mama’s bed and be held all night so Marcy would have no need to come into their room at night to check on her. When Jeanie caught Annie being felt up by the Jones boy behind the Ellis General Store when Annie was sixteen, she never told a soul, not even Pearline.
Annie’s first heartbreak was when Jeanie moved north to Chicago after marrying Frank Billings. They wrote each other almost every week and they talked on the phone at least once a month but Jeanie knew how to send a telegram if it was really important. Like when she found out she was pregnant a few months ago. Wouldn’t a gangster coming down to collect his winning warrant a telegram?
She sat down and felt Smoke sit beside her. The tears she’d been holding back burst free. Now it was less about the fact that her sister didn’t tell her and more about her absence at this moment. She could be angry at Jeanie later, but for now, she just wanted her here.
Not really knowing how to comfort his tearful fiancee, Smoke pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her. “She wanted to say somethin but I didn’t want her to. Didn’t wanna scare you off.” He took her hand in his again, finding his own comfort in her soft skin.
She snatched her hand back after soaking the handkerchief with hear tears. “My sister ain’t never kept nothin from me and you come along! You ain’t have no right meddlin’ like that, Mr. Moore. I’on scare easy ‘specially when it come to my family.” She pointed a finger at him feeling much older than her 20 years. “We gon’ do this thing but don’t you think you run my family. You only get me.”
He nodded in understanding, keeping the smile that threatened to break through at bay. “Yes, ma’am. I ain’t mean no harm but I understand not wantin folk to come between you and ya family.” He didn’t use Stack’s name but his meaning was clear. He didn’t try to reach out to her again, not liking the way it felt when she pulled away from him. “We got some months ’til we married. I wanna know you better, if that’s all right.”
She sniffled, feeling childish for her response. “’S’alright, Mr. Moore.” What say did she really have here? She just needed to see that deed back in her Big Mama’s hands so she’d endure what she had to with Smoke.
“You wanna clean up before we go back out to tell everybody?” He took a risk by using his thumb to catch a stray tear that was falling from her eye. There was that jolt again.
The gesture caught her off-guard and made her gasp though not in fear which confused her even more. She thanked him quietly and went to the downstairs washroom to clean her face.
In the mirror, she hardly recognized herself even though everything was the same as it was this morning besides the puffiness of her eyes. She soaked a clean washcloth and placed it over her eyes, hoping the coolness would hide the fact that she had cried in front of Smoke when she wasn’t supposed to show much emotion at all. Now he probably thinks she’s some weak little girl he can pull one over on.
She let the cloth sit for a few minutes while she twisted the heavy ring around on her finger, wondering how she’d get used to the weight of it. Her eyes had mostly returned to normal after she lifted the cloth. There was still some redness but no one would know unless they looked close enough. She pulled out the jar of petroleum jelly from the medicine cabinet and rubbed some on her face to hide the evidence of tear marks and went to rejoin her new fiancé.
Sorry I kept y'all waiting! Work, work, work, life, Love Island, a building evacuation, and all that. Now I have made it home and in my own bed. This chapter is shorter because I felt it would better to cut it off before Smoke arrived in the Delta to propose to Annie.
Chapter 4
WC: 3.6K
Sobs shook Marcy’s body and echoed off the metal walls of her daddy’s old work shed. Her little Annie would be marrying the son of that evil Adam Moore. No prayer, spell, ritual, or poison could keep that man from getting her back like he said he would. Even from the grave. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “Not my baby, not my baby, not my, baby,” Marcy chanted over and over again just like she did when Annie was born sick. Her pain reached the depth of her bloodline—past when her people were stolen from their homeland in chains.
The more the tears flowed, the more she felt separated from the power that she used to rely on. Nothing answered back. She dropped to her knees and changed her prayer. “Protect her, please.”
Something moved under her, not enough to be seen but enough to be felt. That was all the confirmation she needed that she had been heard. The sweltering heat inside the shed now wrapped around her, drenching her in sweat. She ran to open the door and breathe in the fresh air and jumped back when she noticed her sister was standing there. “Helen! Why you gotta sneak up on folks like that?”
“I called your name, Marcy.” She zeroed in on Marcy’s tear-filled eyes and puffy face. “He ain’t like Adam.”
“Then why the hell he look so much like him?! Why would he have his eyes, his face—nothing of her. Nothing. Even the way he walk is just like his daddy! And you didn’t tell me that he had been seein’ my baby!” The betrayal she felt from her sister cut deeper than anything else.
Helen kept her cool demeanor and shrugged. “This somethin’ bigger than us, Marcy and you know I don’t get in the way of what need to be done. That girl in that house knowin’ her life about to change and you and Mama actin’ like fools.”
“She don’t know what she doin! She don’t know how dangerous a man like that is! She don’t know how he can drag her down.” Marcy pulled at her hair. “I don’t want to watch her fall in love with him just to find out too late he ain’t worth nothin.”
Shifting her eyes to the sky, Helen pursed her lips. “She ain’t Lettie, Marcy. She ain’t. She in that house right now probably hurtin’ and scared because how you actin. Annie think she doin’ the right thing for the family and you out here chasin’ ghosts.”
Rolling her eyes, Marcy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. With a deep inhale, she felt comforted by the sensation of the nicotine. “Well, everybody can’t be like you, Helen. I like to feel stuff sometimes. I wasn’t never gonna be happy about my baby marryin’ somebody like that.”
Something in her sister’s tone caused Helen to stand up straighter. “Well, it ain’t about you, it’s about Annie. Either you can help her through this or you can keep actin’ like the world is against you.”
Marcy looked past her sister allowing the silence to answer for her as she took another drag on the cigarette.
Casting one last pitying look at her sister, Helen turned and went on about her day.
**********
There was a lot of chatter around town about Smoke Moore returning to the Delta without his brother. DeLaurine didn’t want to engage but decided it would be better if she could plant a few seeds. No one needed to know Annie was marrying Smoke for the deed but she couldn’t hide their whole marriage when it happened.
“Wonder what kind of scheming he comin’ down here to do, you think?” MaryLou, one of Delaurine’s oldest friend asked. “Don’t know if it’ll be better or worse without his brother with him.”
Shrugging, DeLaurine organized the cards in her hand. “Heard him and his brother doin’ good with them music clubs up north. Ain’t doin’ all that gamblin’ like they used to.”
“Hm.” MaryLou frowned, no doubt hoping to gossip about the Moore boys like she had done so many times with DeLaurine. She decided to try another way in. “I heard them boys that go up North, come back down here to find them a wife. Say the Northern women don’t half know how to cook. You think that’s what he comin’ back to do? He don’t seem like he change women like his brother.”
“If he is, I know it ain’t me he tryna take as a wife,” DeLaurine sighed and moved her cards around again. “I bet a lot of girls down here gon’ jump at the chance to be with him. Ain’t like he comin’ down here empty-handed like a lot of them boys.”
MaryLou tossed a card down. “Well, all mine married already so I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it.” She eyed DeLaurine, curious about her old friend’s change of tone when it came to the Moore twins.
“I ain’t worried about it either.” She tossed a card on top of MaryLou’s and grinned. “You up to owin’ me fifty-cent. You sure you wanna keep goin?”
She threw her hand down. “Naw, I lose anymore, me and Edward likely ain’t eatin’ nothin but cabbage for the week.” She pulled the money out of her coin purse and placed it in her friend’s hand. “Annie and Christopher ain’t been around town together in a while. They done with each other?”
Lips pursed, DeLaurine resisted the urge to roll her eyes at MaryLou. “Done as a holiday hen. She ain’t like him that much. She’ll find her way.”
“You ain’t got nobody in mind? You did pretty good with Mamie and the Doctor, and Jeanie and Frank, and Marcy and Robert. Got somebody in mind for Annie?”
“Annie got a good head on her shoulders. I’ll see what she decide to do. I need to go make sure the truck picked up the meat from the slaughter house.” She was done with this conversation and didn’t plan to say anymore right now.
******************************
A few weeks after they had returned from Chicago, Annie woke from a dream coughing uncontrollably. She gasped for air and rolled over in bed to sit up. The coughs continued to choke her until she felt light-headed.
The door to her room opened. Big Mama, Marcy, and Helen rushed in. “Annie, breathe!”
“Don’t you think she would’a done that if she could, Mama?” Marcy scoffed and went to sit by Annie on the bed and tapped her on the back, just like she did when her daughter was younger. “Come on, baby. It’s okay it was just a dream. It’s okay.”
“Smoke,” Annie choked out. “Too much smoke.” The coughing had calmed down and she was finally able to draw in a clean breath.
Marcy threw a knowing look at Helen. “What you mean by that, baby?”
Big Mama sat on the other side of Annie. “What you see, Annie?”
“Smoke everywhere. All over. In the trees.” Annie hung her head and drew in some deep breaths like it was her first time feeling air in her lungs. “I’m all right.” Her dreams had been more vivid lately and she wasn’t stupid enough to act like they didn’t have something to do with the man making his way down to the Delta to propose to her. She just couldn’t say for sure what they meant. Glancing at her worried family, she waved them off. “Y’all can go back to bed. I’m fine now.”
“It’s 9 o’clock in the morning, Lil Annie,” Helen laughed. “I think it’s time for you to get out of the bed. Come on, we got some work to do around here before any guests show up.”
“Helen, give her a minute,” Big Mama insisted wrapping her arm around Annie. “You too, Marcy. Let her catch her breath good.”
Marcy wanted to protest but seeing the serious look on her mama’s face, she gave Annie’s hand a gentle squeeze and stood up to follow her younger sister out the room.
Annie wanted nothing more than to tell Marcy to stay and sing to her like she used to when Annie was a little girl. She wanted to beg her mama to sit with her and let her know that everything would be all right after she said yes to Smoke Moore. She wanted to just talk to her about anything that could be said but if this situation showed her anything it was that she couldn’t be that little girl crying for her mama to kiss her pain away. This was something Annie would have to do on her own, no matter how much it scared her. So she said nothing as her mother walked out the door.
Once the door was closed, Big Mama turned and took Annie’s hands in hers. “Yo dreams been like that since Chicago?” She knew her granddaughter used to have night terrors that caused her to thrash and scream in her sleep when she was younger but the way she described this dream was different.
Shaking her head, Annie plucked at her nightgown. “Since before then. The woods get real smoky and I can’t see to get out, usually. This time I couldn’t breathe. The smoke was thicker than before.” Unlike the night terrors that Annie couldn’t remember when she woke up, these dreams were burned into her mind long after she’d open her eyes.
“You think it got somethin to do with…him?” DeLaurine had not accepted the idea of Elijah Moore marrying Annie but she was willing to tone down her dislike of him for the sake of her grandchild.
Shrugging, Annie yawned deeply before wiping the sleep from her eyes. “I think so but can’t say for sure what it mean. Probably don’t mean nothin’ though.”
“It mean somethin. You ain’t been in them woods, have you?”
“No ma’am. Ain’t got no reason to. In my dream, it wasn’t them woods anyway. It was the ones in the north east where the stream is.
Then, Big Mama stood quicker than Annie had ever seen in her life. “We gon’ talk about this later.” She was out the door before Annie could even ask where she was going.
************************
The day of Smoke’s arrival, Annie’s stomach was in knots. For the first time since she had come back from Chicago, little threads of doubt started to creep in. She couldn’t say how she imagined being married but agreeing to get married in exchange for her family’s land would’ve never crossed her mind. She knew plenty of girls who had to marry the man their folks chose for them and suspected that’s what would happen to her eventually but this was much different. Her family would rather her marry a duck in the pond than to ever be near Smoke Moore again.
Their words tossed in her head. What if this was the wrong thing to do? What if she does end up getting hurt? And if he wanted to take her back up to Chicago? Her stomach twisted more at the thought of being away from her family home causing her to squirm the chair as Fran curled her hair.
“Be still, lil Annie or you’ll get burned again,” Fran warned. Her hands weren’t as careful as Jeanie’s when it came to doing Annie’s hair but she was trying her best after Marcy refused to lift a finger preparing for Smoke’s arrival. “You scared about today?”
Biting her lip, Annie nodded slightly. “Only a little. My mama and Big Mama ain’t said much today. They ain’t talkin’ to each other and my mama ain’t hardly talked to me since she found out.” Tears clouded her eyes. “What if he wanna get married next week or somethin’ and go back to Chicago? I don’t know if I wanna go up there to live, Franny, and leave everybody here.”
Putting down the curling iron, Fran walked around the chair until she was in front of her cousin. She kneeled down and put her hands on her cousin’s knees. “Annie, you grown so Imma be honest with you. This family got a lot of shit they ain’t figured out. I spent my life watching Big Mama and aunt Marcy bein tore up about somethin all the time. The way they feel about the Moores is somethin’ deep that happened before me or you was born. They carried that even after Adam Moore died. You ain’t gotta carry it.” She handed Annie a piece of cloth to wipe her eyes with.
“You know what happened?” Annie sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “Why they act like Smoke and Stack is devils?” Her time with Smoke in Chicago came back to her. While his exterior was still rough, he didn’t cross any lines or do anything to make her question the good in him. She mostly wondered why her family couldn’t see what she saw.
“I don’t know much except Adam Moore wanted to marry aunt Marcy and she not only said no, she said hell no. He was a music man and he liked to drink. Yo mama would’ve walked the whole country to find somebody to marry before she married Adam Moore—that’s what Nadine said anyway. And you know what they said happened to him before the twins joined the army.” Once Annie stopped crying, Fran stood up and went back to curling her hair. “And you ain’t gotta worry too much about him just takin’ you back to Chicago when you got him chasin’ you down to the Delta to ask for your hand. Tell him what you want, you ain’t gotta let him control everything. You like him, don’t you?”
Annie hadn’t considered that she had choices in this matter too and so far, Smoke hadn’t forced her to make any decisions yet. “I think so. I know he see things different than I do sometimes but life ain’t been the same for him like its been for me. My mama and Big Mama don’t really see that.”
“Chile, don’t try to get through this life worryin’ about what DeLaurine and Marceline don’t see clear enough. Save ya’self some trouble. Save the stressin’ for that man that’s about to ask you to marry him.” She finished curling Annie’s hair and started to pin it up in the back.
“Is that what you do?” Annie always admired how her cousin seemed unbothered by the things that had the other women in the family so unsettled. Fran hardly kept what was happening between her and Stack a secret. Big Mama was mostly mad that Fran treated it like no big thing than she was that Fran was fooling around with somebody she wasn’t married to.
“Yes, ma’am. I figured out early one day Big Mama gon’ be gone and so will Marcy and Nadine and I don’t plan on carrying they troubles with me. Life ain’t that long, lil Annie.”
“You think that’s why aunt Margaret don’t come around no more?”
“Not at all. That man she married really ain’t good enough to wipe the shit off her shoe. She the youngest so she just hardheaded. She’ll be back at that door fo’ too long. Last I heard, they stayin’ with one of his cousins and he don’t half show up to work. Got the cousin wantin’ to put ‘em out. They can say what they want about Smoke Moore but that man know how to make a way and he gon’ always be workin.”
Annie felt comforted by her cousin’s words but she was still worried about her grandma and mama.
**********
Not long before Smoke was set to arrive that evening, Marcy was nowhere to be found and Big Mama was yelling out orders to get the food ready and on the table. Junior dragged himself from his room looking a pitiful sight.
“Pullin’ out all the stops for the new man of the house, I see,” he said bitterly to Helen who was arranging the silverware on the table.
“Well maybe if we impress him enough, he won’t give away our land to somebody we don’t know,” Helen quipped. “You got a lot of nerve actin’ like you bein’ done wrong when Annie only agreein’ to do this because of your mistake. You oughta be thankin’ her.”
Junior walked towards the stairs and looked up. “Thank you, Annie! Thank you for sacrificin’ all the comforts of being a Love woman so that you can enjoy all the comforts of being Smoke Moore’s wife so we can keep our land! I am truly sorry I put you in such a terrible position to be a kept woman for the rest of your life!”
Upstairs a door opened and careful footsteps moved closer to the top of the stairs until Annie appeared. She wore one of the many dresses her mama had made for her—a baby blue color that stood out against her dark skin. Her hair made her look less like a young woman and more like someone who knew something about life. She held a tube of lipstick in her hand though her face was tear-stained and her eyes were red. “Aunt Helen, can you help me put this on right? I don’t know how to do it like my mama.”
Seeing her niece in distress had Helen moving quickly past her brother who she shoved on her way up the stairs. “Here I come, Annie.” They walked back to Annie’s room which was a wreck. All the dresses that Annie decided not to wear were strewn about the space—the bed, the chair, the dresser, and the floor. “Did a tornado come and only visit your room?”
Sitting down in front of her vanity, Annie’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll get it all picked up. I just didn’t know what I wanted to wear. Thought about askin’ my mama for help but—” She dabbed at her eyes with an already wet handkerchief. “She won’t even look at me. I just wanna talk to her and she won’t—” She threw up her hands. “I could be goin to Chicago next week and she won’t say nothin’ to me. She done with me?”
Helen took the lipstick from her niece. “You know me and ya mama don’t see eye to eye on this situation but I know she ain’t done with you.” She paused wondering how to continue. “Ever since we was little Marcy always thought it was her job to make sure we ain’t get hurt. Ain’t nobody told Marcy that hurt gon’ happen no matter how much you try to stop it. She got real hard on herself when one of us got hurt. When she had Jeanie and then you, she promised not to ever let y’all get in any trouble she couldn’t get you out of.” A humorless laugh left Helen’s lips. “When you got hurt that time, she was barely herself for a long time after. I think she started feelin’ like everybody was gettin’ hurt because of her. She ain’t done with you, she just feelin’ sorry for herself.”
Maybe her aunt Helen thought telling her this would make her feel better but after hearing that all she felt was anger. “I’m sorry Aunt Helen. I gotta go do something.” She grabbed the lipstick back and moved quickly out the door and down the stairs. Stepping outside on the front porch, Finny ran up to her and barked, his big ears flopping. She didn’t need to guess where her mama was, she already knew. She made her way down the dirt trail that led to the back of the property. Dust coated the bottom of her dress as she walked with purpose. She stopped at the small tin shed and pushed the door open.
Marcy sat on an old wooden stool—that had been there since before either of them were born—with a cigarette in her hand. “Y’all done with supper already?”
“Come put this lipstick on me.” Annie held up the tube.
Annie’s tone caught her off guard. She never spoke to anyone that way, certainly not Marcy. “Wait. You ain’t just gonna—”
“Yes I am, mama, because I want this to look right and you the only one that do it how I like it.” She tapped her foot impatiently waiting for her mama to move off the stool. “If I’m gone by next week, just remember, this is what you wanted to do instead of helpin’ me.”
“How I’m supposed to help you, Annie? That man has our future in his hand and you the only one who can stop it but you wanna be with him anyway, don’t ya? I don’t know how to help you cuz none of this should’a happened.”
“I don’t know if I wanna be with him! I just don’t think he evil like you say. I don’t think he mean to hurt me. And if marryin’ him will get that deed back, Imma do it! I wanted to talk to you because I don’t know nothin’ about bein’ married and I don’t wanna leave you and Big Mama and Aunt Helen and Fran and Mamie but you won’t tell me everything gon’ be fine. You won’t tell me how I’m supposed to do this without you! You just hidin’ cuz you feelin’ sorry for yourself like my whole life ain’t about to change! Whether things go good with Elijah or not, I gotta know that you ain’t gon’ give up on me just because you don’t like him.” She held up the lipstick again. “Come put it on me, please.”
Nodding, Marcy wiped her eyes and dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. She took the lipstick to open it and examine the deep red pigment. “This gon’ be a pretty color on you.”
Almost collapsing in relief, Annie wrapped her arms around her mama and held her tight.
MAJOR MOORE
PT.1 PT.2 PT.3
WC : 6.4k(don’t ask🌚)
Summary: Two weeks of trying to get back into the rhythm of civilian life, Elijah 'smoke' Moore was finally back in uniform, back in the corps. Back to being a Major.
CW: none, just fluff and a cute date and maybe a little bit of kissing and stack being chaotic as ever!
A/N: finally got this out! WOO, ENJOYY!
(This also took so long to come out cause I kept rewriting scenes, they just wasn't to my liking🤍)
10 : 45 on Monday night.
:
:
Elijah finally settled down for the night after making sure the other boys and Tiger were really asleep. Sighing softly, he lies down staring at the ceiling as he thinks about her.
“I wonder what Annie's doing?..” he muttered to himself with a thoughtful expression as his head tilted to the side of the pillow. His mind drifts towards her like it usually does when he starts to wonder about her.
A faint grin grows on his face as he thinks about the date they set for Friday.
Elijah starts to fall asleep, his eyelids slowly falling, for the first time in Elijah's life, sleep finally comes to him easily tonight.
That's new for him.
Five hours later.
Elijah woke up suddenly to a noise downstairs, and he glanced at the clock seeing it was three in the morning. Sighing he got up, thinking it's Tiger probably getting some water like he usually does.
He slowly heads downstairs, making sure not to be too loud so he won't scare Tiger. Elijah tends to do it by accident because of how quietly he moves.
He rounds the corner and pauses as he sees a tall body instead of the short and adorable body he was expecting.
Elijah minds rushing to figure out if it's one of the other boys or an actual intruder.
“Hm, he's been eating good yo.” an almost familiar voice muttered underneath their breath as they reached for Smoke's good cheese and salami. They chuckled.
Elijah's eyes narrowed in confusion before grumbling under his breath as he realized who it was.
He moves slowly up to them before quickly moving his arm around their neck, quickly putting them in a headlock.
“Whoa!” They blurted out while Elijah turned on the light.
“What the hell are you doing, Stack?!” He asked firmly with a huff as he kept his hold around his brother's neck tight.
“How did you know it was me?” Elias immediately asks as he struggles against his hold.
“There's only one person in this world that messes with my food and it's you, fool.” He huffed out, letting him go with irritation written all over his face.
“Messing with my good cheese and meat, that's for my lunch.” Elijah sighed deeply as he moved to put away his sandwich ingredients.
“Well now, I ain't know it was for your precious lunch,” Eilas said as he moved to take a seat, rolling his eyes at Elijah's words. While he watches his brother grumble to himself as he grabs eggs deciding to make Elias something to eat anyway.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Elias speaks up.
“So..how you been?” He asked softly with a faint smile as Elijah placed the plate in front of him. “I've been fine, you?..” he responded with a sigh as he took a seat across from him.
“Well I've been better, Mary ain't talking to me and I ain't got no place.” He sighed as he bit into the egg sandwich. “You are the only one who knows how to make an egg sandwich right, I swear,” Eilas said softly with a chuckle as he looked at his twin.
Elijah shook his head and smiled faintly as he slowly got over his irritation. “It’s nice to see you too, Stack.” he said with a warm tone.
Elias smiled softly and nodded slightly as he resumed eating the egg sandwich. “ You think I could stay here?” he asked after a moment. “Just until I find something for myself of course Don't wanna get you in trouble.” He added shortly after he wiped crumbs away.
Elijah hesitated for a moment, he didn't want to get in trouble with the school but then he remembered who ran it which helped him get over his hesitation rather quickly. “Of course you can stay, I ain't got no problem with that,” he said with a firm nod as he stood up “just don't cause too much trouble, you do have my face remember?” He teased as he shook Elias' head slightly, knowing his brother couldn't stay out of trouble even if he tried..
“Now why would I cause trouble? I'm an innocent man,” he said loud enough for him to hear as Elijah headed back upstairs, shaking his head in amusement.
“Sure, sure.” He muttered with a huff as he leaned against the railing, a chuckle escaping him.
“There's a spare bedroom down here on the right by my office and extra covers in the closet if I'm not mistaken,” he mentions as he watches his brother for a moment.
Elias hummed quietly as he enjoyed his egg sandwich. Elijah wasn't good at cooking many things, but an egg sandwich was the one thing he could make right.
“Try not to stay up too late, and make sure to clean up when you're done,” he called out softly as he continued up the steps.
“Thanks again Elijah!” he quickly responded.
“Don't mention it.” He said over his shoulder before re-entering his room.
—
11:34 in the morning.
Tiger wakes up and smells pancakes and bacon, he quickly gets out of bed, noticing the other boys heading inside the house. He beats them to the kitchen before pausing, something off.
“Damn, y'all look hungry,” Eilas said with surprise as he chuckled at them, he could see that they felt something was off so he decided to play into it.
He placed pancakes on plates. “Y'all gonna eat or what?” He asked sarcastically.
“This gotta be a trick,” Dwight muttered to the other boys.
“He's..happy?..” Alex soon spoke as they all took a seat, a bit cautious.
Eilas's head turned into a smirk as he heard their words, “This is gonna be fun” he thought to himself.
–
Meanwhile, outside.
“What the hell is taking them so long?” Elijah muttered to himself with a deep sigh as he glanced at his watch, they were supposed to be training by now.
He glanced at the barracks before seeing something move out of the corner of his eye immediately recognizing who it was.
“Miss Richard's, what a surprise,” he said with a hum as he tilted his head as he watched her walk towards him.
“You're still surprised by me showing up?” She said with a chuckle as she adjusted her grip on her briefcase.
“Well no, just like saying that I suppose,” Elijah muttered with a faint smile as he glanced at her outfit. “You look very nice today.” Her light yellow dress complements the deepness of her skin tone.
Annie held back a smirk as she watched his eyes linger a bit on her body before finally traveling back to her eyes. “Thank you, you don't look bad yourself. Major.” She spoke softly as she chuckled.
“Ah, it took me forever to pick out this outfit,” Elijah said with a bit of sarcasm as he adjusted his collar.
Annie giggles softly at his words, shaking with amusement. He watched her, his smile growing to a full-blown grin.
She glanced around the field. “Where are the boys, Ain't y'all supposed to be training?..” she asked softly as she tilted her head, resting her hand on her hip.
He sighed deeply and nodded."We were, yes. I don't know what's taking them so long, they should've gotten Tiger by now.” He answered as he glanced at the house before it finally clicked for it.
“Damnit.” he sighed before starting to walk back to the house.
Annie looked at him confused before slowly catching up with him.
—
“Well major, I didn't know you knew how to cook.”Dwight expresses disbelief while chewing his pancakes as the other boys nod in agreement.
“Eh, I cook here and there when I feel like it.” Elias says as he sips his coffee having to stop himself from gagging at the taste “How does my brother drink this shit?” He muttered to himself with a hint of disgust and irritation, hating how he was taking his role of pretending to be his brother too seriously now.
Tiger watches him closely, sensing something isn't right he just can't place what it is yet.
–
Elijah sighed deeply as he opened the door, he let Annie go first before entering behind her, moving towards the kitchen.
His eyes landed on the breakfast and then soon his brother who was clearly messing with the boys.
“What's got you so-” Annie starts saying before going quiet as she sees a man with the same face as the major, and soon disbelief grows on her face.
“There are two of you?!” She blurted out without thinking, and the boys quickly turned to look at her before surprise grew on their faces as well, quickly glancing between both men.
“Whoa..” Tiger muttered with curiosity and slight awe at the fact that there are two of the Major now.
Elias pauses as his eyes land on her, a smirk growing on his face as he's back in his element.
“Well, who is she?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes traveling along her curves with curiosity and a hint of something else.
Elijah sighs deeply as he glances at everyone else before looking back at his brother.
“Pretending to be me again, huh?” He said with a huff as he noticed the uniform on his brother.
“Well, who else besides me, hm?” He responded with a smirk as he leaned back in the chair, resting his hands behind his head.
“You still didn't answer my question, Smoke,” he said with a hum as he stood up and basically glided towards Annie.
“Who is this beautiful woman?” He asked again with a certain charm in his voice as he smiled, gently grabbing her hand to press a faint kiss towards her knuckles.
Elijah rolled his eyes hard at his brother's antics.
The boys watch with curiosity and amusement as they glance at both brothers.
Annie stared at him in disbelief, having to make sure she ain't dreaming by pitching Elijah.
“Really?” He grunted softly as he looked at her before looking at Stack, who was still staring at Annie with a look he had no business giving her.
He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what he did to deserve this before clearing his thoughts and moving Stack from Annie. “Everyone, this is my brother Elias..” He answered the question that was on their faces.
“Stack, this is Annie. She's one of the school counselors here, she helps me with the boys from time to time.” He sighed as he finally answered Stack’s question.
“Annie,hm.” He mumbled under his breath as he tilted his head.
Annie lets out a soft huff as she looks between the two of them again, just to make sure she's seeing correctly.
“You didn't think to tell me you had a twin?” She expresses crossing her arms, stack eyes immediately traveling there unable to stop the freak in him.
Smoke's eyes do glance there but his gaze doesn't linger long like his brother's , he refocuses on her eyes after smacking stack on the back of his head.
“Why you did that?!” Stack huffed out as he rubbed his head, glaring at the smoke.
“Huh, that's why he smacks us on the head,” Dwight muttered to Alex under his breath before continuing to watch the twins.
Smoke immediately glares right back. Stack rolled his eyes and shook his head as he looked back at Annie.
“Well, I was gonna tell you on Friday. As a conversation starter.” He said gently with a soft gaze he genuinely did mean to tell her.
It's not like he expected his brother to show up unannounced.
Stack looks between both of them, starting to realize what's happening. He crosses his arms, smirking to himself.
—
“I still can't believe you're a twin,” Annie uttered softly, still in disbelief at there being two of him.
Elijah chuckled faintly, finding her reaction a bit amusing even though he won't admit it.
“You still finding that hard to beli-” he started
“I’m the better twin of course.” A voice suddenly spoke up behind them, spooking them.
Elijah had quickly turned around to punch whomever it was before realizing it was his brother. “Damnit, stack..” Elijah muttered with irritation, feeling a headache come on already and his brother has only been here for a damn day and he's already getting on his last nerve.
“Whoa, man! Chill with all that.” Stack huffed as he used his hands to block his face. “This is the Second time he has done that, you know.” He says to Annie as he steps up to her, smirking trying to use his charms on her.
Annie chuckles faintly at Stack’s antics, tilting her head slightly, humoring him a bit. “Is that so?..” looking between both of them.
Elijah watched his brother through narrowed eyes, he's this close to choking him. He glanced at Annie, pausing as he noticed the look she was giving his brother and now he's ten times more annoyed.
Is he being a little irrational? Yes, yes he is..
Does he care though? No, no he does not.
“I gotta go..” he muttered to them before walking away, heading back to the training field.
—
Annie started to say see you later but smoke was already gone before she could get the words out.
“Ah don't mind him,” Stack spoke up beside her, dismissively waving his hand watching his brother walk for a moment before turning to face her.
His gaze traveled along her body, unable to stop himself as he started to circle her.
“That's a mighty fine dress you got on.” He said teasingly, voice a bit deep as he flashed a smile at her, a hint of his top grill showing a bit.
She let out a soft amused huff and tilted her head, resting a hand on her hip as he stopped in front of her.
“Mhm, thank you.” She responded with a faint chuckle, fixing her head to look at him fully.
Stack’s smile grew bigger, his dimples getting deeper.
That usually gets them.
“So, what's up with you and my brother, hm?..” he asked softly with a raised eyebrow placing his hands behind his back, stepping closer to her.
Annie paused a bit, surprised by his direct question.“Excuse you?..”
He chuckled, rubbing his mustache.“What's going on with you and my brother?..” he asked again, even more directly if that's possible.
“Nothing is going on with Elijah and me," Annie said simply with a sigh as she crossed her arms. “We're just friends.”
Stack stared at her for a moment, observing her expression before laughing.
“You is funny, Annie.” He said in between laughter as he wiped away fake tears, a smirk on his face.
Annie blinked in surprise at the sudden laughter. “What's funny?..”
“That you think nothing's going on with you and him.”
“Nothing is.”
Stack pauses and tilts his head before chuckling, sighing gently as he looks her in the eyes.
“And you really believe that?”
She freezes before huffing softly, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.
“Yes, I actually do believe that.” She says firmly with a sigh.
“So what's happening on Friday?..” he asked simply, raising an eyebrow, chuckling as he saw her taken aback.
Clapping his hands, he steps back. “you know what? I'mma just leave that alone..” He said softly.
Annie sighed and adjusted her bag. “Just be gentle with him, he got bad nerves!.” Stack called out watching her walk away.
–
Elijah hums quietly to himself as he walks around the grocery store, grabbing a few things. “So you and Annie have a date on Friday?” Stack asked out of nowhere
“Jesus Christ,stack!” Elijah said as he turned to face him. “Stop sneaking up on me or next time I'm shooting your ass.” He grumbled with a huff ,turning back to the cart.
Stack chuckled as he moved to the side of him. “Oh please, like you would ever do that,” he said while putting his things in the cart.
Elijah glares at him and if looks could kill Stack would be six feet into the ground about now.
“Okay maybe you will.” He muttered to himself as he smirked at him.
“Still ain't answer my question.” He said simply as he crossed his arms as they reached the check out counter.
“You're really testing me” He said back as he glanced at stack.
“You know I ain't trying to take your girl right?.” Stack says with a small smirk as he knows exactly how his brother is going to react.
“She ain't my girl,”
“She ain't my girl.”
they both said, Elijah immediately turned to face stack.
“Stop that.”
“Stop that.
Elijah paused, glaring at him before speaking again.
“Stack, stop.”
“Stack, stop.”
Elijah takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose , knowing his brother wasn't going to stop.
“We just friends.” Stack says immediately with him.
“You know, she said the same thing.” He hummed as he rubbed his chin, watching Smoke before chuckling softly, shaking his head as he focused on the things getting scanned by the cashier.
Smoke took in his words, Annie said the same thing? He leaves his thoughts as Stack starts up again.
“So what's happening on Friday?” He questioned again a bit more seriously now.“Because you and your woman are dodging my questions.”
Elijah sighed deeply, this close to throwing him through a window.
“You've only been here for a day and you already tap dancing on my last nerve.” He muttered underneath his breath with a huff.
"Dinner,just dinner. That's what's happening on Friday.” he sighed, eventually giving into his brother's persistent questioning.
“Only dinner?..” Stack challenged with a raised eyebrow, tilting his head.
“Yes, only dinner,” he started, paying for his and stack’s things. “And she ain't my woman, she's my friend. There's a big difference.”
Stack narrowed his eyes before smacking his lips as he grabbed his bag. “big difference my ass, that's yo woman, rather you want to admit it or not.” he uttered sarcastically.
“She's not my woman.” He muttered with a sigh, watching stack leave the store before following suit.
-
Thursday 2 :30 pm
Three days..
It's been three days and his brother has already caused some mess.
Stack being the man that he is, has flirted with every female teacher he sets his eyes on which has caused problems for Elijah because they all think he's him when they see him.
“Hey, you think Miss James is married?..” Stack asks as he jogs by smoke.
“Stack..I don't even know a Miss James." He sighed deeply as he glanced at him before focusing back on the jog.
“Really?” He muttered with a huff, "I thought you being here for six months, you've known everyone by no–” he gets cut off as smoke starts to jog faster.
“Now I know y'all can move faster than that, come on!” He said as he started jogging backwards to look at the boys.
Stack sighed deeply and narrowed his eyes before catching up with him.
“Is it because of her, that you haven't learned every woman's name at that school?.” he asked bluntly, sugarring coating nothing as he looked at his brother.
Smoke sighed deeply and faced forward.
“Who exactly is this ‘her’,you speak of?..” he asked, he knew exactly who he was talking about because she's been the only thing he can think about..
Besides other things..
Stack rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Now you know damn well.” he smacks his teeth,looking at smoke.
Elijah held back a smirk before clearing his throat. “Gonna have to finish this conversation a different time, little brother.”
“Bruh! I'm your little brother by three minutes!..” Stack huffed as he started chasing smoke.
Later that day
You remember Miss James? Yeah, here she comes.
“Elijah, you didn't forget our date on friday?” she spoke up softly, standing in front of the lunch table he's sitting at.
Elijah pauses, blinking blankly at his sandwich he was about to tear up in a moment. “Ain't you married?” he asked bluntly, looking at her with a bit of irritation.
“I ain't married.” she scoffed, crossing her arms.
He looked at her hands , searching for a ring or any indication she might be married. “Well you’re talking to the wrong twin.” He said after a moment, not finding anything that gave off married from here.
Now it was her turn to look at him like he was crazy. “The hell do you mean ‘wrong twin’?..” she narrowed her eyes.
Of course stack forgot to mention that important detail.
He sighed deeply and rubbed his nose, he just wanted to enjoy his sandwich.
–
5:20 pm, Elijah’s office.
“So, what are you going to wear on your date?,” stack questioned with raised eyebrows.” Cause I can't have you going on that date looking crazy, you are a reflection of me.” He added shortly after with a nod.
Smoke looked up from the papers and stared at stack blankly.
“It's not a damn date.” He corrected it for the millionth time. “It's dinner.”
“Fine, not a ‘date’..” stack reluctantly muttered with air quotes. “Still, what are you going to wear, bruh?..” he asked again.
“Alright, what's with this?” Smoke gesturing towards his brother doing air quotes, irritation entering his body, Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You know exactly what this is.” stack muttered underneath his breath as he avoided smoke's gaze, knowing he probably glaring a hole into his face.
“And I don't know, I'm just gonna wear my whites.” Smoke added reluctantly, he sighed before going back to reading papers while keeping an eye on stack as he walked around the office.
“Your whites?..hm."Stack muttered to himself as he rubbed his chin in thought.
“Miss Annie does seem like the type of woman to like a man in a uniform..” he muttered to no one in particular.. “big bro! You might get some Friday!."Stack exclaimed with a smirk as he walked up to him.
“Stack, what the hell are you talking about?..” he sighed deeply as stack pulled him up.
“My boy, you're getting some tomorrow night, and I'm gonna make sure of it.” stack expresses with a chuckle.
Elijah stared at him with a blank expression, watching him circle him like he was a model.
“You gon need a haircut, definitely a shave around that beard..” stack muttered to himself , tilting his head as he stopped back in front of him.
Smoke raised an eyebrow at his brother's words before walking over to the mirror. “What's wrong with my beard? I like it.” He said with a huff as he glanced at himself,tilting his head side to side.
“Well of course you like it, you don't care about your appearance as much as i do.”he said with an eye roll as he stepped to the side of him.
“You wanna look good for Annie, yes?..”stack asked with a raised eyebrow.
Smoke glanced at his brother before looking away , sighing gently. He did want to look good for her, it's hard not to try to look good for a woman like that.
“Fine.”he uttered after a moment.
“Just don't cut too much off, please,” he quickly said as stack went to grab his clippers, stack never goes anywhere without them damn clippers. “I worked hard to grow this beard.” He added quietly to himself as he turned his gaze back to the mirror.
–
5:55 pm Annie's home
Annie was cleaning up in the kitchen, keeping her hands busy.
Her thoughts went to the date dinner that Elijah and her were having tomorrow. She honestly doesn't know what it means.
Two adults can go have dinner and not have it be a date..
Right?..
“Ann, why you moving around like a busybee?” A soft rusty voice spoke from the living room.
Theodore, her grandfather, had been watching his shows when he noticed how fidgety his Lil Ann was.
“Huh papa?..” She muttered softly, getting out of her head as she looked over her shoulder through the kitchen opening.
Theo let out a soft huff and shook his head. “I said why you moving around like a busybee,chère?..” he repeated, still keeping the soft tone.
Oh..
Annie lets out a small sigh and gives a small nod. “Just trying to keep busy papa.” She says gently with a soft gaze before turning back to the dishes.
He watched her with a raised eyebrow “Right..” he muttered with a small sigh before focusing back on the tv..well tired too.
–
Friday 8:00 pm
It was finally time for their date..
Elijah stood anxiously outside her door, he glanced around the house seeing the modest yet warm feel it had , he could also tell she didn't live alone.
He turned his gaze to the flowers. “You can't go wrong with roses, Smoke. Women love them.” Elijah recalled what his brother said.
He didn't really think Annie liked roses but he wasn't gonna show up empty handed either.
“He cut too much of my mustache, man.” He muttered as he noticed himself in the window reflection, sighing deeply Elijah rubbed the bridge of his nose counting to ten in his head.
He paused before finally knocking on the door, he had stood out there for a good five minutes, his nerves getting the best of him.
–
Theodore watched his granddaughter with a soft and warm gaze.
“you remind me of how your grandmother looked on our first date.” He spoke up softly with a small smile.
Annie beams at his words, smiling gently as she smooths out her dress once more.
“Thank you papa, you never fail to remind me.” She kissed his cheek softly.
Theodore, usually the stoic man that he is, couldn't help the full grin that started to grow on his face, he’ll proudly admit to his other grandchildren that Annie is his favorite grandbaby and he has no shame in it.
“So..you still aint tell me nothing about your date, all i know is he took that job to work with that military unit at your school.” he spoke softly as he watched her head down the hallway to grab something.
“His name is Elijah and he's around the same age as me papa.” She says over her shoulder she grabs her earrings off the nightstand and starts to put them on.
She didn't tell him that Elijah served in the military because he always told her to never marry one, ironically considering he served in the army.
“Elijah? Sounds respectable enough.” he thought to himself as he glanced at the tv before hearing the knocking at the door.
“Ah, right on time.” He says to himself he stands up and answers the door, he moves quite fast for his age.
“Wait pap-” she started to speak
–
Theodore stood tall as he looked the man in his eyes, giving a once over.
Noting the dress whites, he raised an eyebrow, his Annie forgot to mention that the man was also a military man as well.
“You must be Elijah, I'm assuming?..” he asked simply. Holding eye contact with him.
Elijah paused.
He gotta deal with her father now? His nerves are gonna be all over the place now.
“Yes sir, I'm Elijah. Elijah Moore." He spoke with a nod as he extended his hand, fighting back the trembles.
Thedore noticed the trembles.
He knows exactly what they mean because he gets them from time to time. This man fought in the war, his expression softened up a little but not by much, didn't want Elijah getting too comfortable just yet.
He gave him a firm handshake, nodding as he
acknowledged the simple respect.
Most of Annie's dates in the past always gave half-assed handshakes and he never liked them simply because it showed they would half-assed love his grandbaby and he wasn’t gonna let them do that to his Lil Annie.
“Come on in,son” he opened the door up, making room for Elijah to come in.
‘Guess the old man doesn’t hate me yet.’ he thought as he stepped through the threshold.
“You must be her father,sir?” he questioned with a curious gaze as he glanced around the home.
Theodore stops in his tracks to look at Elijah before laughing right in his face.
“Son, I am not that young.” he chuckled as he patted him on the back while heading back to his favorite chair. “I’m her grandfather.” he added with a hum,relaxing into the chair.
‘That's even worse.’ Elijah thought cause now he really gotta prove himself to this man. A man that came from a generation where men paid for everything without complaining.
He gotta step his game up.
“So what are your intentions with my granddaughter?”
–
Annie sighed deeply as she hid in the room for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous and she usually doesn’t, what has Elijah done to her?
“Girl calm down, it's not that serious.” she muttered to herself as she looked in the mirror , putting one more pin in her hair. “It's just dinner,nothing too serious.” she thought with a small nod before grabbing her clutch.
–
“Well me and her are just friends sir.” Elijah said to him, fidgeting with the flowers as he looked at the man.
“Right..friends.” Theodore says simply, not believing it one bit.
She stepped out of the room and headed to the living room where Theodore and Elijah were talking before the conversion went quiet as she entered the room
Elijah sat there starstruck, words stuck in his throat as his gaze traveled along her curves.
Theodore watched him with a small smirk, exactly how he was with her grandmother.
“This might just work out.” He thought to himself as he watched Elijah stand up clearly going to approach her but his feet just won't cooperate at this very moment.
“Y-you look incredible, ann..” Elijah finally got out as he met her gaze, his grip on the flowers so tight that they're starting to shake.
Annie smiled softly at his words and that almost sent him into a coma.
Theodore watched silently, letting out a small chuckle. “Son, you're supposed to give her the flowers.” He spoke up softly,lightly pushing him towards her.
Elijah glanced at the older man before looking back at Annie. “I ain't know which flowers you would've liked, so I went with roses.” he says with a small nod, rubbing the back of his head while giving her the flowers.
He ain't ever been shy like this before but this got him acting like a teenager with their first crush.
“These are pretty, Elijah." She beamed.” Imma put these in some water and then we can go, okay?..” she says softly and he gives a small nod.
He watched her head to the kitchen and his gaze linger a bit too long for grandpa's liking.
Theodore cleared his throat very loudly, the way it sounded like a duck quaking.
Elijah sighed deeply realizing he just got caught staring by this woman's grandfather.
He turned to face him slowly, giving a tight lip smile.
“Watch them eyes, son.” Theodore said simply but the threat was very much clear.
He responded with a small nod.
—
At the restaurant.
“You don’t really talk that much about yourself do ya?.” she said softly with a faint smile as she looked at Elijah, tilting her head slightly.
Elijah looked up from his food, having been focused on her talking. “I like to listen more than I speak.” He sighed as he gave a small nod.
She observed him as he returned back to eating. “Aren’t you a military kid?” She asked softly , taking a bite of her steak.
“It’s obvious..huh?..” he said softly with a faint smile as he wiped his mouth.
She gives a small nod.
“Well,me and my brother have been military kids all our life really, been all over the place.” He said with a nod as he adjusted in his seat. “My father was a hard ass but he installed some great values into me and my brother.” He sighed.
“I just don’t know how much stayed with stack, though.” He muttered softly with a chuckle as he tilted his head, matching hers subconsciously.
Annie chuckled softly , giving a soft smile as she looked at him. “Sounds like your father was an okay man..” she spoke gently with a hum.
Elijah's smile faded a little . “Yeah, I guess he was.” He muttered thoughtfully before switching the subject.
“So Ann, why did you become a teacher?..” he asked softly as he sat up straighter, genuinely curious.
She tilted her head and smiled faintly, catching onto the nickname. “Well, I suppose I became a teacher because my grandma was one,”she started off. “She was no nonsense type of teacher but her students loved her to death.” She says with a warm tone , a hint of nostalgia entering her voice.
Elijah listened intently to her, saving the information for later.
But for a small moment his gaze traveled along her face , watching the way she always has a hint of a smile on her face or the way she tilts her head when she notices something.
Or the way her eyes- “Elijah?” Finally reaching his ears, he snapped out of it, clearing his throat as he met her gaze.
“Did you hear a word I said?..” she asks with a teasing tone, taking a sip of water as she stared at him with a knowing look.
He stared back at her , a faint smile growing on his face.
She caught him and he..likes that.
“I absolutely did hear everything you said.” He finally speaks, matching her tilted head.
She bites back a smile. “Then what was I just saying?”
Elijah raises an eyebrow at her, sitting up straight.
“You were just talking about what has pushed you towards becoming a teacher,” he began with a hum. “And how your grandmother is your motivation and inspiration for yourself, you take pride in that.” He finished off, his gaze softening as he watched hers do the same.
“Anything else you would like to test me on?” He teased, feeling a bit more out of his shell around her.
Annie lets out a soft giggle, glancing away for a moment.
He smiled at that, biting the inside of his cheek before returning back to eating.
—
9:20 pm on the way to Annie’s house.
They sit in comfortable silence as Elijah drives her home, the radio playing Marvin Gaye quietly.
He hums along as he hears ‘I want you’ start playing.
“I want you , the right way” he starts singing quietly to himself , tapping his fingers against the stirring wheel.
Annie glances at Elijah as she hears him singing , smiling faintly as he keeps going.
“But I want you to want me too.”
“I want you to want me, baby.” She starts singing along and Elijah immediately looks at her, chuckling softly.
“What you know about this song?..” he teased, smiling softly.
She giggles at him , turning towards him. “What I know about this song? Baby ,this my favorite song.” She responded back with a small smirk on her face.
He chuckles softly as he shakes his slightly “thought I was the only that listens to this album.” He exclaims with a warm tone, glancing at her as she sings.
“Well you thought wrong.” She teased,smiling as she resumed her singing.
“Oh, I give you all the love I want in return, sweet darling”
“I guess I did..” he muttered to himself as he watched her for a moment , his feelings for her getting dangerously serious.
But they’re just friends..right?
Right.
—
“I had a good time tonight, Eli.” Annie says with a soft smile as he walks her up to her door.
Elijah chuckles and gives a small nod. “I did too, glad I found someone who also listens to Marvin Gaye.” He says with a smile matching hers as he steps up the stairs with her.
“Thought I was the only one..” he mumbled as he looked at her.
“Well you ain’t anymore.” She says back with a hum as she pulls out her key.
He watched her quietly, his gaze traveling along the side of her face, a tenderness passing through them as he noticed the faint dimple she has.
He leans against the door frame, paying attention to how he puts the key in the lock but doesn’t turn it.
“Elijah..” she started , pausing as she turned to him.
“Yes, Annie?..” he whispered softly, his voice getting a little raspy without him realizing it.
“I-..I would like to do this again some time.” She whispered back, matching his tone.
(Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?🌚)
“Me too.” He hummed as his gaze landed on her plump lips,the amount times he thought about them is down right crazy.
They stare at each other's lips for an eternity before Elijah finally gives in and presses his lips against hers,sighing into the kiss as it starts off soft but quickly turned heated.
He cups her face in his hands, tilting his head slightly as their tongues brushed against each other. He pulls back slightly for air before his mouth is on her neck, leaving wet kisses there.
Annie lets out a quiet moan. “E-Elijah.”
He pulls back thinking he did something wrong before meeting her gaze and seeing the quite opposite, he pulls her closer resuming his kisses on her neck, grunting quietly as he feels her hand on his belt.
Before it can go further there’s a knock on the window.
They immediately pulled away and turned to face the window, seeing Theodore standing there with raised eyebrows and a small smirk.
Annie immediately hides her face against Elijah's chest, he chuckles nervously and gives a small wave to her grandfather before turning to her.
“Well, um..” he tries to say anything but he’s stuck on that kiss they were lost in. “Well we just got caught..”he finally gets out with a chuckle and, rubbing her back as she finally opens the door.
“See you at school, ann..” he muttered with a small smirk as he looks at her.
“See you at school, Eli..” she muttered back with a small smile before closing the door.
Elijah chuckles as he walks down the steps towards his car.
“I want you , baby.” He sang quietly to himself with a warm smile opening the car door.
—
Welp..what yall think?😗✌️ first time writing a kiss ya girl was nervous LOL
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Posting chapter 4 after I get done with work tonight! Also I’ll post the alternate version (because what is a story if you haven’t written it 5 different ways??)
Karaoke got wild last night—I fell singing “Superwoman” by Karyn White. I did a lot of 20 year old stuff in my 34 year old body and then stayed up late to watch a movie. And I had to be in sessions early this morning. 😪
Chapter 5 will also be delayed a day because I’m traveling home tomorrow.
Universal Pictures Presents "The Odyssey" Paris Photocall
PARIS, FRANCE - JULY 07: Lupita Nyong'o attends Universal Pictures THE ODYSSEY Paris Photocall at Trocadero Square on July 07, 2026 in Paris, France. (Photo by Pierre Mouton/Getty Images for Universal Pictures)
DUFF - Designated Ugly Fat Friend, English Slang (UK)
Summary : College years are not easy for everyone, especially not for a scholarship awarded international student. Diatah chose to swallow everything — discrimination, bullying,pain, fake friendships, awful jobs. She was ready for all, except him. That cocky man from Louisiana.
Pairing : Stack x Diatah (OC)
Genre : College AU
Music : People help people, Birdy, Wanna be, Megan Thee Stallion, Kissin on my tattoos, August Alsina
University of East London. Three years ago Diatah had been awarded a scholarship to study in this prestigious institution. For a young woman like her, who’d spent her teenage years in a country where everyone praised the occidental lifestyle, she had been more than thrilled to experience it. Until she landed.
The africanophobia was not the worst of it, racism she’d cruelly learned to swallow, however their mistreatment was something Diatah didn’t prepare herself for.
They were also black. Weren’t they? Certainly not the same features as her, more occidentalized — still, what about those who came from the same land as her? They accommodated and it was now legitimate to treat her like a nuisance?
Diatah. The one resembling a lioness
Her father sure gave her quite a name !
Misfortune she’d thought came to an end when she’d encountered Nimue and Shantal during her sophomore year — both women came mid-semester from an international exchange program.
Texas, Nimue had proudly clarified.
They were different.
Never did they shamed Diatah for her complexion. Neither for her African origins.
Those petty bullying were not their cup of tea.
Nimue and Shantal aimed higher.
They accepted Diatah in their group, loved and appreciated her. Then started sending her to some ridiculous errands.
A coffee to fetch.
Homework to do additionally to her own.
Conversations she wasn’t invited to participate in.
Bags to carry because Nimue just did her manicure and couldn’t hold her own purse.
Money lent and never returned, because friends always got the back of each others.
Little innocent remarks on her body, because they want her to be a baddie too.
Diatah was sure. It was all good. They were simply looking after her.
Well, that Saturday, after the Junior Ball game, she started doubting of their good intentions.
“Every group needs a duff. And I’m so happy to have Diatah with us.” Nimue had expressed, glossing her lips.
“Don’t get her wrong Tah. We love how strong you are. Thanks God you here to put these lame ass away.” Shantal had added.
Diatah had laughed bitterly, realizing that finally no friendship came without a price.
Yet, wasn’t it better to be a Designated Ugly Fat Friend than the poor African immigrant who doesn’t know how to fit?
The first semester end gracefully for Diatah, despite everything she scored higher than average and kept the scholarship.
Summer arrived merciless, she spent it plainly between part-time jobs, moving out into a new apartment, taking time to send money home in Ghana. In short, the joy of being an international African student abroad.
Laying down in her bed, she scrolled through Nimue and Shantal Snapchat stories — the girls were constantly out : parties, picnic at places Diatah had shown them, beach activities…
They didn’t invite her to none of it.
“It’s alright. I rather stay home anyway. It would have been awkward if I was there…” Diatah mumbled to herself, zapping the TV.
Later that day, her phone buzzed — while she was busy preparing for her part-time job.
Nimue: hey girl, wyd? My hg make a party tonight I was wondering if you in?
Diatah widened her eyes, reading the text over and over again to find the trick.
Perhaps did she meant to send it to Shantal?
Nimue:???
Back to earth, she hurried to reply.
Diatah: yes, tell me the hour and adress
Nimue: 9PM. Can me and Shantal come to your place to get ready? Our dorm room too small and yk how the supervisors are…
Ha. Here was the trick after all.
She already gave her word. It would be troublesome to say no now.
Diatah : alright.
After hitting sent, Diatah hurried to catch the next bus. Being late to noon shift at Burger King was criminal.
Anyway — she arrived five minutes late. Be assured that her manager will make sure to cut it off her salary.
She left the restaurant at seven and arrived home at seven and forty. Fifteen minutes later Shantal and Nimue were calling her apartment’s number.
Towel wrapped around her water-dripping body, Diatah answered the call and heard their footsteps climbing the stairs already.
“Hey girl.” Shantal voice interrupted behind the screen door.
Diatah inhaled sharply and opened her entry, a convenient smile plastered on her face.
They made themselves at home, a bit too much to be exact — monopolizing the bathroom that even the rightful tenant had to use a small mirror sitting in the living room to put her makeup on.
Shantal and Nimue left the bathroom gorgeous, bold and beautiful. One had a tank top and jeans with red heels on, the other a micro laced dress with platform shoes.
“Di…Diatah?” Nimue stuttered, grazing her friend up and down.
She heard Shantal swallowing by her side.
The woman before their eyes was different from the gloomy nerd they used to see wandering around the faculty’s hallways.
“Ah excuse me. Is that too much?” Diatah asked genuinely, taking in her micro-skirt and low-cleavage flared blouse — with care she’d oil up her deep brown skin, glistening every strikes mapped on her hips, stomach, high-thighs and top breasts.
It was her first girl’s night out, so she might have overdone the glam? Her face was sculpted, baked and glossed with a brown-cream combo — Hair slicked with bold aesthetic edges. Cherry on top, she wore her nipples heart-shaped piercings — outlined under the white blouse —, bohemian wooden bracelets, rose gold bellybutton’s jewelry that glint slightly when she swayed her hips.
And, at the bottom of her outfit sat a pair of mid-length open-heels, pretty match for her white painted toes.
“You’re so pretty Tah, that’s—” Shantal began, truly mesmerized.
“That’s too much…yeah.” Nimue cut, frowning and dusting invisible dust off her lace dress. “I mean— you gorg’ babe, but it’s just a small party no need for allat. And…” She burnt a hole on Diatah’s plushy stomach. “I think a mid-length dress can suit you better. I love when you put dresses on!”
Hesitant, Diatah sighed silently and turned on her heels, searching through her closet. She was not an idiot — but refused to admit that Nimue of all women, the same Nimue prettiest of prettiest, could possibly see her as a threat. And to be fair, she’d said small party. Maybe Diatah had just overdone it.
She got a hold on a cheetah dress, mid-thighs, then grimaced.
“This one a bit…” she murmured to herself, biting her lower lip.
No judgment. Diatah had been shopping clothes for years now, swearing each time to start investing in her nightlife.
It was cricket until today, of course.
“We down, hurry up a bit” threw Shantal, shutting the door behind them, purse in hand.
“Oh yes. Give me just five minutes.”
Diatah pressed her lips together and stepped into the dress, tugging the fabric up over her generous hips, adjusting the thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders. The cheetah print stretched across her voluptuous chest, nipped at her waist, stopped mid-thigh. She smoothed a hand down her round stomach once and behind, on her backside.
As time was running against her, she picked the first mule — a pair made of the same cheetah print and Marabout feather fanning across the toe strap.
She crossed to the small living room mirror — the same one she’d done her full face in while Nimue and Shantal had monopolized the bathroom to themselves —
“Wipe a bit here…” she smooched her lips and remove a bit of gloss that was spoiling her brown combo. “Yeah more like it…”
Music was blazing from the two stories house when Shantal parked her BMW across the street.
Diatah had a knot in her stomach, she never been comfortable around a crowd.
She breath in and out, wearing her same poker face, laying flat her edges staring at the small mirror she brought.
“Nimue !” A group of guys came over as soon Nimue stepped out the engine. She was followed by Shantal who slightly turned around to lock the car and Diatah who was now finding the hem of her dress too high on her curves.
A tall, mahogany complexion and goat trimmed-bear guy leaned down to kiss the two girls on the cheeks, “sup’ girls?”.
Shantal whimpered amused with all teeth out. The guy arrived at Diatah’s stance — poor girl didn’t know how to act. Whether to lean in to receive a smooch or stay put — and tapped on her shoulder, “it’s cool seeing ya’ll there.”
Diatah clocked the attitude. She didn’t mention it though. It wasn’t unusual. She stood behind the two girls, clutching her purse under her arm, fingers tight on her hem, ankles jewelry clicking to the rhythm of her heartbeat.
The group moved toward the entrance talking over each other — she fell in step behind them, pulling her phone out, feigning to scroll on Instagram.
This party will be long.
“Hey Tah ! Come on, don’t stay behind like that girl.” Nimue said over her shoulder laughing, the same guy holding her waist. “We having fun tonight, don’t be weird honey.”
“I brought a book for her in case” Shantal added, walking backwards to Diatah. “Come on you all better pour a strong shot for my girl.”
Who read a fucking book at party?
What was her problem?
Diatah put on a convenient smile, struggling to hide her annoyance.
They get it. I’m your pushover, let it rest now. She thought, walking inside the booming house.
The group of boys steered them through the packed group of people toward a sofa near the staircase — fluff, animal printed pillows, already warm from whoever had been sitting there before. Nimue dropped into it first, crossing her legs, her phone out before she even settled. Shantal squeezed in beside her, angling her body, chin down, and they fell into it naturally — snapping pictures, checking, reshooting, laughing at notifications on the screen between them.
Diatah sat at the edge of the cushion, eyes moving across the room. She wasn’t told to join, so she stayed still, already imagining how to get out of this mess.
The guy who tapped on her shoulder earlier offered a playfully restrained grin, looking at her up and down.
She was fine. And she knew it — from head to toes. Still, his gaze made her uncomfortable. It was full of something, a flicker of attraction maybe, she wasn’t sure…until he lowkey named it.
“Y’all three from East London Uni?” He asked dampening his lower lip.
“Yeah and no. We from Texas just there only for the two semesters hopefully.” Shantal responded, making herself comfortable in the sofa.
“And Diatah is a Ghanaian immigrant here so, prolly getting back soon?” Nimue added, turning head to her direction.
Diatah bit her tongue. “Hopefully so.” She answered.
“Oh. You African?” The guy mentioned with a lower, more plain tone.
“Yes.” She shot back, — invisible brow lifted — with more irritation she should have.
“That’s cool. My mom Sierra Leone and my dad from Brazil. We settled here years ago.” He said cheerily.
For a moment, Diatah’s guards fell down. She smiled back at him — in corner.
The tension didn’t escaped Nimue radars.
“Come on nigga, we thirsty.” She interrupted. standing up.
“Oh— right, what you girls wanna drink? I’m goin to make it. Tell me”
“Henny and coke, no ice.” Nimue uttered, scanning the space over his shoulder.
“Make it two.” Shantal added, singing some verses of Ciara’s song that was bleeding through.
He turned to Diatah last, smirking and waiting.
Before she got a word out, Nimue’s hand landed briefly on his arm — “Tah not picky, something sweet will do.”
Diatah rolled her eyes. She wasn’t having it this time. “Actually I’ll have some rum and lemon please.” She crossed her calves, making her jewelries sing. “Ton of ices too.” She laughed.
Shantal clocked the whole exchange — Diatah’s eye roll,Nimue’s dumbfounded face after — and bit the inside of her cheek, swinging her gaze deliberately toward the dancefloor.
“Yo Jay, Smoke not coming, I prolly—”
Halfway to the bar, Jay turned his attention to the stairs.
“What? Stack you leaving?”
The whole party went silent. Or at least that’s how Stack felt it when his eyes fell on Diatah — taking in her rich deep brown oiled complexion, her white painted toes brushed by the fanning Marabout feathers’ shoes. He slowed up, looking at the luxurious gold ankles contrasting her skintone, the way her cheetah dress molded her curves — glancing at her stomach, he peeped a bellybutton jewel’s shape.
Mesmerized, he — unwillingly — rushed his eyes all up her face.
She bad. Like real bad.
He couldn’t read much into it. She was keeping him captive.
“Huh-huh. Just tellin’ you Smoke won’t be there tonight.”
Diatah held his gaze a moment then traveled her eyes all over him — a tall, lean figure man with pecan colored skin. His almond shaped eyes lighted with deep brown irises ; he wore a goatee beard cleanly trimmed on his flexed jaws.
Diatah squinted her eyes, grazing across his features — a sharp fade tapered clean to his temples, hairline crisp against his smooth golden skin. His nose was long and flat at the bridge, lips full and resting easy. He wasn’t smiling, not quiet, instead he was throwing at her an interesting grin.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, though she let nothing appeared on her face.
It was the first time a man of his caliber stared at her with such intensity.
Well, she couldn’t have possibly experienced it since she never let any men come close to her. She had her share of cruel, painful heartbreak — weaving between unrequited love, being hide and dumped.
Stack’s brows sat low over his eyes that hadn’t shifted off her once since he’d stopped walking.
His outfit was casual : two earrings on ear ear. A chain against his collarbone, short enough to sit flat on his chest. Black tee that matched black jeans, silver bracelet on his wrist.
Diatah pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her eyes somewhere else.
He was hot. A damn fine mess.
Handsome was an understatement and she wouldn’t sit there and let him catch her agreeing with it.
“Hey.” He finally broke the ice, addressing the group of girls.
Nimue and Shantal didn’t hide their spark of interest. Though Shantal laid low, playing hard to get, Nimue — who was already up —, padded few feet toward his direction.
“Hey, I’m Nimue. We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”
Catchy. Could’ve do better.
Diatah hated.
“Stack.” He drank from his cup. “I don’t know where we probably met, I would have remembered.” He sneered, glint in his eyes.
“Hmm. For sure you would.” She replied, honeying the edges of her voice. “This is Shantal.” Nimue pointed to her bestfriend’s spot.
“Evening.” Shantal replied simply.
Stack nodded then backed his attention to Diatah, whose face was turned ahead to the party booming around them. “And you are—?”
He didn’t bother misplacing his interest. Through the way he was drinking in her body, her attitude, her strict pretty face.
She was the one he wanted to find about — her name, where she from, her favorite color, her hobbies, what she doing there, is she a good kisser? — with scrumptious lips like hers, the answer was evident — how she moved in bed?
“You’re staring.” Diatah finally spoke, swaying her hips on the cushions — her gaze shooting fire.
“Oh. Do I ?”
Nimue cleared her throat. Not oblivious to the bubbling, electric tension.
“Aww Tah come on don’t be weird.” she walked back to the sofa, settled in middle of Diatah and Shantal then grabbed Diatah’s thigh, tapping atop of it. “She’s shy, excuse her. Tah don’t really do parties but we dragged her out tonight, she not used to this kind of vibe. She’s more of a stay home type.”
“You better not be calculating how fast you can get back home right now, Tah” Shantal laughed cozily playful. “better be here than KFC, don’t you think.”
Stack didn’t laugh. Didn’t react the way Shantal’s tone was fishing for. He didn’t understand the KFC line. And it wasn’t that important.
Diatah flicked her eyes to Shantal who was brushing Nimue’s forearm, laughing genuinely.
Mentioning KFC because she was fat. Of course nobody would try digging if she was a regular customer or simply worked there. First option always fit best their perception of fat bodies, anyway.
All that circus for a man. What a waste.
Shantal was right on something though : she was definitely calculating how she could get the fuck out of this party.
“Here you go girls.” Jay’s voice cut across the room. “Two Henny and coke and a lemon rum.”
“Thank you Jay.” Shantal cheered, picking the two henny drinks.
Diatah leaned over and took hers. “Diatah, by the way.” She said, glancing at Stack. “My name.”
“Nice to me meet you Diatah.” He smiled.
After trying too many times to hit on Stack, Nimue seemingly gave up and dragged Shantal somewhere else in the house to dance, leaving Stack and Diatah alone.
“You keep staring, you’ll lose your sight.” She said, putting her cup down on the coffee table.
“Don’t show up delicious next time and I won’t.”
Diatah frowned for seconds, grazing him up and down.
There would never be another party.
He chuckled, showing off his dimples. “And clearly you could use a friend right now.” He laughed. “Yours kinda shit.”
A man like him always came up with a price and truthfully she was too broke to afford it. Or at least she thought so.
“Answer by yes or no.” Diatah uncrossed her glazed thighs. “You got a fetish?”
Stack widened his eyes, blown away by her question and the seriousness on her tone when she asked it.
“I love pretty women, that’s it.” He bite inside of his mouth. “And right now… there’s nothing about you that doesn't turn me on.”
Stack caught her off guard.
Suddenly drown by waves of nervousness, Diatah’s fingers twitched on the hem of her cheetah dress.
In films, books and even the pieces she read online on blogs — men wasn’t usually bold at first meeting.
She rubbed her thighs shyly yet still suck her tongue. “That wasn’t a yes or no.”
“Let me get you out of there and I’ll tell you.”
Diatah pushed herself up from the cushion, her curves jigging with the motion — hips swaying out, tits bouncing and filling out her cleavage, the dress riding a half inch higher on her thighs before she tugged it down once and reached for her purse.
She walked toward the exit without a word, mules clicking a path through the crowd and out the front door.
Stack’s jaw tightened.
He fell in behind her, eyes dropping the second she turned her back — locked on the roll of her voluptuous curves under the dress, the way they wiggled with each step, her deep brown oiled skin catching every light she passed under.
Her aphrodisiac perfume threaded back and wrapped around him before he could breathe around it : myrrh with undertones of cinnamon and orange.
He liked it.
Outside, the night’s cold wind hit them both. “I’m parked over there.” He lifted his chin toward the direction.
She crossed the street behind him, arms folded against the cold biting at her bare shoulders. Of course Diatah was reluctant to get in a stranger’s car. Still, it seemed better than the alternative of being Shantal and Nimue’s punching ball for the rest of the night.
His car was a cherry red ford, crouched low at the kerb. He swung his side open and gave her a look over the roof.
She let herself in, sat straight, and arranged the hem across her lap with two fingers.
As soon as Stack got inside,he turned the engine over with a low rumble and pulled from the kerb without rush, one hand resting at the bottom of the wheel.
“And where are we going?” He asked.
“Just drive me somewhere.” She replied, short.
She cut him a look without elaborating. The streets outside were still lit — off-licences glowing orange, a night bus pulling heavily from its stop ahead of them. He signaled right and let a cab pass before easing through.
“Why are you even hanging with these girls?”
Diatah pressed her lips together and sucked her teeth, clearly embarrassed. “They’re not that annoying. Just…they just got a certain type of humor that’s all.”
“The type of making fun you ‘cause you’re prettier than them?”
She chortled. “You think I’m pretty ?” She arched a brow.
“I do.”
She shook her head, amused and unconvinced then drifted her eyes to a chicken shop pass on her side, yellow sign buzzing, two guys leaned against the wall outside in puffer jackets with their hands buried in their pockets.
They reached a traffic light at red and Stack stopped the car, fingers tapping once on the wheel then going still.
Diatah studied his profile from the corner of her eye. The jaw, the clean line of his fade catching the red glow, earring glinting at his ears.
This man had an attitude — unbothered, calm, playful? All at once?
Her heart started drumming. Inaudibly at first then loudly. So loud she feared he would hear it.
“You definitely got a fetish.” She mumbled, deflecting.
Stack scoffed. “That what you want to believe?”
Diatah didn’t answer. She folded her arms on her chest and exhaled : “London is beautiful at night.”
Stack sighed, returning his gaze on the road ahead. “Yeah.”
Four blocks away, he turned off the main road without signaling, parking in front of a convenience store — who apparently was going to close. Diatah grabbed the door handle on instinct, ready to step out, thinking he decided to drop her off here.
“Wait. Give me a minute.” He brushed the top of her hand a second before walking into the store.
She watched him through the lit glass — the store nearly empty at this hour, one bored attendant at the till, Stack moving down an aisle with a rushing expression on his face, hands in his pockets.
Diatah exhaled through her nose and sank back against the seat. “What am I doing here…?”
She didn’t know this man. Didn’t know where he lived, what he did or if Stack was even his real name.
She doubted it.
He reappeared at the till, set a few things on the counter. The attendant bagged , he tapped his card and was back outside.
He sat into the driver’s seat and tucked the bag behind her headrest without a word.
“What did you buy.”
“Curious, ain’t we?” He cocked a smirk, squinting his almond brown eyes.
“Do what you want.” She turned her head, skimming the rain drops that wee now weeping from the sky.
Stack drove back and merged into the thin late traffic, rain pouring hard and relentless, fogging the road, thickening against the windshield. He flicked the wipers up a notch without looking away from ahead.
“You gon’ tell me where we’re headed or I gotta guess.” Diatah crossed her thick leg over the other, angling herself toward the window, though her eyes kept cutting back to him every few seconds.
He glanced at her quickly, then back on the cars in front of him. “You always this impatient or is it just me?”
“It’s you.” She retorted flat, fighting a grin.
He laughed, grumbling in his chest and took left after a roundabout, the tires hissing against wet tarmac as the shopfronts and their lights gave way to hedgerows dripping under the weather, gates set back off the road with intercoms rusted at the posts.
Diatah sat up a little straighter, unfolded her arms, taking in the change of landscape.
“Is this where you kill all your victims?” She kept her tone light, teasing, but her fingers pressed tightly the seam of her dress against her thigh.
“Only the cute ones.” He picked the grocery bag on backseats without breaking his line on the road.
“You’re an ass.” She giggled nervously.
“So I’ve been told.” He eased off the accelerator.
Diatah leaned toward her window, staring at a streaming water that pulled into view — a lake, maybe a reservoir, she couldn’t tell with this little light, but it stretched far enough that the far bank sat swallowed in mist and shadow.
Rain dimpled the surface in a thousand places at once, each ripple swallowing the last before it had time to spread.
Stack slowed the car to a crawl along a gravel track running parallel to the bank and parked beneath a tree wide enough to keep most of the rain off the windscreen.
He cut the engine off and looked at her. “How you feel?” He lowered the window of his side.
“Cold.” Diatah rubbed her palms down her bare arms, the heater ticking as it cooled with the engine off. “If I knew it would rain, I would’ve thought twice before running off with you.”
“Running off?” Stack repeated it amused and turned his gaze toward her direction. “You walked out first, if I’m remembering right.” He opened the bags in his lap.
“Details.” She waved it off, watching him pull out two chicken cheese sandwiches and pass it over. “You picked a chilly park. Coulda taken me anywhere and you chose here.” She kept complaining, rubbing her thighs together, the breeze caressing her skin.
“You said somewhere.” He shrugged, tearing his own wrapper open. “This is somewhere.”
“That’s a cop-out answer.”
“It’s an honest one.” He took a bite, chewing as his eyes traveled to the water, rain still needling the surface in restless little circles.
Diatah unwrapped hers slower, taking in his sudden distant tone. “Still…I’m surprised.”
“Hm?”
“You don’t strike me as a romantic type. One that drives girls out to a lake.” She bite her sandwich.
“Maybe you don’t know what type I am.”
Diatah chuckled, uncrossing her legs. “Maybe.” She gave up on the idea of scrolling the hem of her dress down. “Or maybe you just didn’t want to take me home.”
She internally cursed at her own stupidity as soon as the words spilled from her lips.
Diatah already came to accept the fact that she would never be the kind of girls guys hook up with or publicly flirt with or sort of any social interaction in the genre.
She was fine having a medium sexual life with average looking men — she was not even attract too — that hid her like cholera. And moreover, this one, Stack was just being nice and friendly. And it was okay.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean—”
“Not yet.” He licked the cheese off the tips of his fingers and grazed his eyes over Diatah’s voluptuous body from her face — clinging to her lush breasts, skimming her glossy thighs — to her painted toes, on which his irises dilated hungrily. “I thought after this terrible party you might want to chill. Sorry I didn’t expect the rain. We could’ve sat closer to the lake.”
Diatah’s breath hitched. She cleared her throat and busied her hands with the sandwich, folding the wrapper back over the half she hadn’t touched.
“Rain’s not so bad.” She mumbled shyly. “I don’t melt.”
“Didn’t expect you to.” Stack laughed pleasurably entertained. He cracked the seal of his bottle of water. “You always this hard on yourself?”
“I’m not hard on myself.” She frowned, totally defensive.
“You apologized for a sentence you ain’t even finish saying.” He tipped the bottle back, drank, staring at her over the rim of it.
Diatah opened her mouth, closed it twice in row, and backed down, focusing her attention on the bucolic landscape instead, watching a duck she hadn’t noticed before paddle out from the reeds along the near bank, cutting a slow path through the rain-pocked water.
“Guess I’m used to people finishing my sentences for me.” She explained it to the window glass rather than to him. “Usually not kindly.”
“I’m not people.” Stack set the bottle back in the cupholder. “And even if I was fixing to finish it for you, wasn’t gon’ be cruel about it.”
She glanced at him sideways, gauging whether he was lying or saying the truth, but found nothing except that same playful, easy expression.
“My mother would hate this.” He chuckled.
“What?”
“Sitting in a car,feeding a girl junk food from a corner shop instead of taking her to eat a proper meal.”
“Running a strict program?” Diatah asked, finally relaxing.
“And do.” He held her gaze for a moment before releasing it. “She’s a doctor. She worked in humanitarian field to be exact.”
“Ah.” Diatah breathed, slightly annoyed.
Humanitarian huh. The ones that help the poor African get access to health?
She clacked her tongue inaudibly, rolling her eyes.
“I’m stopping you there ma’am, fix your face. She’s not doing white people fetish porn about saving the poor African babies. That’s some white people shit. Fuck them and their hero syndrome” He raised his finger clearly offended and Diatah cupped her face, bursting in laugh.
“Moreover she had more mission in East Europe, Orient and in the US.” His eyes turned sad. “I spent half my childhood watching her patch people up in places most folks wouldn’t send a postcard from.”
Instinctively Diatah rest his palm atop of his, warm and reassuring.
“She would have had something to say about wasting a night at park instead of doing something useful with my hands.”
“Useful like what.”
“Studying. Volunteering. Anything that wasn’t sitting still.” He rubbed his thumb along hers. “We moved around a lot chasing her work. I stopped counting the schools after the fourth one.”
“Sounds exhausting.” She retrieved her hand in her lap.
“It was. I missed Louisiana sometimes.”
“Louisiana?”
“Yes ma’am. That’s where I’m from. My mom is from Nola and my dad is a northerner, Chicago.”
Poor Diatah, she aggressively struggled to tell him how bad she was at geography.
“You can’t place them right?” He laughed mockingly.
“Shut up.” She murmured, flustered.
Stack lit his phone and tapped on iPhone map.
He leaned over, crowding her body with his — almost cheeks to cheeks, breathing hot against her lips.
“Here.” He first showed his home address, then New Orleans and a random place in Chicago. “My bad for showing a coffee shop in Chicago. I don’t know the exact place where my dad from.”
He returned to his seat, leaving Diatah’s heart beating abnormally.
“Well. It doesn’t matter now. With my parents and brother we settled in London. Mama reconvert into a simple doctor. Should’ve done that when we were young but anyway.” He spoke lightly but Diatah caught on the sad undertone.
“Accra.” She said. “That’s where I’m from. Well my grandma’s place at least, and I mostly grew up at her house, so…” She beamed reminiscing. “My parents’ place had very authoritative rules. So I loved to run away from it.”
She flattened her head against the window. “My mémé had a goat that ate my school shoes once and nobody even got mad about it. I remember my mother came and with her mom they just laughed at my expense.”
Diatah turned her head and caught Stack pressing his lips, eyes laughing. “Don’t. Stack don’t you dare—”
“HAHAHAHAHA— eurgh”
“…laughing.”
“A goat ate your shoes?”
“Brand new ones. Stop laughing it was traumatic.”
“Alright…okay…PFFT HAHAHA.” He caught his breath. “Did he chew even?”
“Go fuck yourself.” She exhaled.
“Do it for me.” He slurred.
Diatah’s mouth fell open scandalized and she shoved his shoulder, laughing despite herself. “You’re vile.”
“You started it.” Stack caught her wrist before she could pull it back, holding it there loose against his chest, thumb tracing slow along the inside of it. “You told me to fuck myself. I’m just offering better options.”
“Let go of my hand.” She whispered uncertain, her heart skipping a beat, betraying.
“You want me to?” He didn’t let go, drinking in her face, his smirk fading the longer she remained silent.
Diatah’s breath went shallow, the rain poured wildly against the roof, windows fogged thick, hiding the lake behind grey glass — leaving just the two of them and the small space between their seats.
“If I give in to my desires, I'll have to deal with the consequences of their actions.” She hushed, chest warm and heart kicking out its cage.
“Then, let me own those desires for you tonight.”
Stack’s thumb stilled against her pulse point. He glided his eyes to her lusciously glossed lips then leaned in slow, giving her every chance to pull back if she wanted to, his breath lukewarm against her cheek before capturing her lips.
He held her chin, fluttering, grazing long up to her jaw carefully, like she might change her mind if he rushed the moment.
Diatah’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt, steadying herself onto him.
He kissed her feverishly, caressing her lips patiently, softly and she melted into it despite her nerves and each cell of her body telling her to stop. That he would go back to his life after undoing her, this late night in front seat of that cherry red Ford.
Despite all, she whimpered, abandoning herself to his loving caresses, consuming years of loneliness on his lips.
When Stack pulled back, his forehead came to rest against hers, both of them panting in the small fogged-up space.
“Yeah.” He grunted softly. “Figured you’d taste like that.”
“What—what are you saying now...” Diatah’s fingers stayed knotted in his shirt, her chest rising fast against his, — nipples jewelries chafing against the fabric of her cheetah dress — and before she continued deflecting, Stack dipped back into it again, crashing his lips against her, passionately biting her bottom lip between his own.
His grunts muffled with Diatah’s whines as she slightly arched her spine off the seat, one knee lifting to press against the console as his palm slid from her jaw down the column of her throat, thumb dragging along her collarbone where the cheetah print had slipped a half inch.
He groaned low against her mouth, losing his hand in the curve of her waist, gripping her softness like he meant to pull her fully across the console into his lap.
Then out of blue his phone rang, the vibration rattling the cup holder’s plastic loud enough to cut straight through the haze they’d built between them.
“Course now.” He retreated back from her, and snatched the phone up with a scowl.
He unlocked it. “Yeah.” His jaw ticked, eyes cutting to the roof of the car. “Yeah I know…I’ll explain when I’m home. I’m out right now…yeah.” He suck his teeth and hung up. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his fingers. “It was my brother.”
Diatah scooted back into her own seat, tugging the hem of her dress straight over her thighs. She dragged her eyes everywhere except on his face. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Don’t worry.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry I’ll have to drive you home, my brother is—”
“Don’t worry. You can drop me the nearest bus station. It’s emergency I understand.”
“There’s no way I’m dropping you alone at this time. What’s your address.” He brought the engine to life, rounded the tree and made his way back on road.
“I really don’t want to bother, I got a peeper spray on me, I can—”
“Diatah look at me when I’m speaking to you.” He rasped. “Please.”
She sighed and turned her head.
“Good.” He clenched his fingers tight on the wheel. “You’re funny. Stunning. Smart.”
“You don’t know me enough to say all of that.”
“Touché. I do know enough to say that you kiss like a Goddess though.”
“What are you—” she began, embarrassed.
“What I mean is. Don’t be your own enemy, don’t let your own mind screw up your self-esteem. And dump those mean girls. They don’t deserve your friendship and you know it.”
“Just a kiss and you turned into a philosopher?” She teased, smirking. “I’m wondering what the kitty can do.”
“Wanna find out?” He stopped the car midway, unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned closer, studying every feature of her face. He could hear her heart pounding, drumming one beat after the other. “You trying to get a man in trouble talking like that?”
“Never told you to behave.”
She shifted in her seat, angling her body toward him, cleavage sagging down and loose over her swaying breasts. Her nipples jewelries scraped off the fabric with each inhales and her perfume flew over Stack nose, overwhelming the confined space.
She shuffled — the hem of her dress hiking high up her thigh — and stared at him through half-lidded eyes, her glossy lips parting slightly.
“You seem uncomfortable down there. Is everything cool?”
Stack shut his eyes and cleared his throat before backing away.
He lost at his own game.
“So. Your address?”
Diatah laughed, honest and free.
“Thank you for the advice.” She drew circles on the window’s glass. “I know, they’re not good friends. It’s just…at least they’re there.”
A heavy silence fell in the car.
She tapped her address on the GPS and they drove quietly to her neighborhood.
She climbed off the car and he caught her wrist. “My name is Elias. Friends call me Stack so you can keep doing it if you want.”
“Alright. Stack.”
“Can I have your number?”
“Why are you asking for something that’s already in your phone?” She winked at him and set her wrist free, disappearing inside her building.
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Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore & Marmalade (the cat from hell)
Summary: Elijah has built his life around discipline, routine, and absolute control. Then his great-aunt asks him for one impossible favor: take in her elderly orange tabby while she moves into assisted living. Marmalade is loud, manipulative, judgmental, and seemingly dedicated to dismantling every carefully constructed piece of Elijah’s life, one broken whiskey glass, stolen catfish, and public humiliation at a time. Somewhere between emergency vet visits, dramatic escape attempts, sabotaged dates, and falling asleep with twenty pounds of orange fur on his chest, the man who swore he would never own a pet discovers that love sometimes arrives with claws, attitude, and an alarming talent for opening refrigerators. The cat may have been inherited unwillingly, but becoming a cat dad? That part happens completely by accident.
Warnings: Fluff, comedy, slow-burn emotional attachment, reluctant pet ownership, orange cat behavior, excessive cat-induced property damage, cat sabotage, soft Smoke, protective Smoke, eventual Cat Dad, lots of purring, and one orange menace who wins every argument
The Unwanted Inheritance
Elijah's apartment in Jackson was his sanctuary of order. Every surface gleamed, every book was arranged by color and height, and the faint scent of leather and wood hung in the air like a promise of control. His life was meticulously curated chaos, the kind only he understood, and only he could manage.
The phone buzzed on his granite countertop, vibrating against the marble like an unwelcome intrusion. Elijah wiped his hands on a dishtowel and glanced at the caller ID.
Great-Aunt Maeve.
"Hey, Aunt Mae," he answered, his voice smooth as Mississippi mud. "How you feeling?"
"Boy, don't 'how you feeling' me," she shot back, her voice raspy from seventy-six years of living. "I'm moving to that home tomorrow, and you know what that means."
Elijah leaned against his kitchen island, already feeling the headache coming. "Means you're finally getting someone to cook for you every night instead of burning water like you been doing since Uncle Ray passed."
"Don't get smart with me, Smoke. You always was the smart one. That's why I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, Aunt Mae. You know that."
"I need you to take Marmalade."
Elijah straightened up so fast his back cracked. "Hell no."
"Now listen here—"
"No, you listen." Elijah started pacing his living room, hand running over his close-cut fade. "I don't do pets. I don't do hair. I don't do unexpected messes. You know this about me."
"Marmalade ain't just a pet. He's family."
"He's a cat, Aunt Mae. A cat that's probably older than me and twice as stubborn."
"That's why he can't come to the home. They got rules about animals. Plus—" She lowered her voice conspiratorially—"he's got too much devil in him for them folks at the home. Last week, he knocked over Mrs. Henderson's walker just to watch her scramble."
Despite himself, Elijah smiled. "Sounds like he got good taste."
"Don't you start. I need you to take him. Just until I get settled and figure out what to do."
"Can't Elias take him?"
"Elias?" Aunt Mae laughed like she'd just heard the funniest joke in Greenwood. "That boy'd probably teach him how to roll blunts. You know he can't keep nothing alive but a good time and a hard dick."
Elijah rubbed his temples. "Aunt Mae, with all due respect, my life ain't set up for no animal. I travel. I work long hours. I like my shit how I like it."
"Blood means something, Smoke. That cat's blood to us now. Ray found him behind the garage when he was just a kitten, eyes still closed. Fed him with an eyedropper. You remember how Ray was about that cat."
Elijah did remember. His uncle had been a man's man—hardworking, quiet, with hands calloused from fixing everything in Greenwood that broke. But he'd loved that orange cat like it was his own child, carrying it around like a baby, talking to it in that low rumble that made everyone lean in to listen.
"Uncle Ray been gone three years now," Elijah said softly. "Time to let that cat go."
"Some things you don't let go of. Some things you carry with you." Aunt Mae's voice thickened with emotion. "Please, Elijah. For me. For Ray."
Elijah closed his eyes, already knowing he'd lost. "Fine. But I'm finding him a new home soon as I can."
"Thank you, baby. I'll have cousin Andre bring him over tomorrow."
The next day, Elijah was knee-deep in contracts when his doorbell rang. He ignored it—probably another delivery he hadn't ordered—but the ringing persisted, growing more insistent. Finally, he yanked open the door to find his cousin Andre standing there with a cat carrier that looked like it had survived a natural disaster.
"Where you want this thing?" DeAndre asked, already backing away like the carrier contained explosives.
"I didn't know you were coming today," Elijah said, stepping aside. "Come on in."
"Nah, man, I ain't staying. Aunt Mae said drop and run." Andre shoved the carrier into Elijah's hands. "Good luck with that devil cat. He bit my girl when we tried to get him in the carrier."
Before Elijah could respond, Andre was jogging down the hall, disappearing around the corner like the hounds of hell were after him.
Elijah stared at the carrier, then at his pristine apartment, and sighed. "Well, ain't this some shit."
He set the carrier down in the middle of his living room and unlatched the door. Nothing happened. He waited. Still nothing. Finally, he crouched down and peered inside.
Two golden eyes stared back at him, narrowed with what looked like pure contempt. The cat was indeed orange—deep, marmalade-colored with white patches on his chest and paws. He was chunky, with a belly that swayed when he finally stood up, and one ear was torn at the tip, giving him a permanent roguish look.
"Come on out," Elijah said, his voice softening despite himself. "I ain't gonna hurt you."
The cat took his sweet time, stepping out with grace despite his bulk. He shook himself, sending a cloud of orange fur into Elijah's carefully maintained air, then looked around the apartment like he was inspecting troops.
"Name's Marmalade, huh?" Elijah murmured. "Can't say I'm feeling it."
The cat ignored him, trotting directly to the kitchen and, with surprising agility, leaping onto Elijah's pristine white countertop. He then proceeded to knock over the glass of expensive whiskey Elijah's been sipping on, watching it shatter with what looked like satisfaction.
Elijah's carefully constructed calm cracked. "Lord have mercy, what the hell is wrong wit'chu?"
The cat blinked slowly, then started licking his paw like nothing had happened.
That night, Elijah established the rules. "You sleep in the living room," he said, pointing to the expensive cat bed he'd bought on his way home from work. "Not in my room. Not on my bed. We clear?"
Marmalade responded by jumping onto the back of the sofa and staring at him with unblinking eyes.
Three times that night, Elijah carried the cat from his bedroom back to the living room. Three times, Marmalade returned, finally settling on Elijah's face like it was his personal throne, purring like a motorboat with a bad muffler.
Elijah woke up suffocating in orange fur and cat breath, pushing the cat off only to have him return with what sounded like judgmental purring. "This ain't gonna work," Elijah muttered, stumbling to the kitchen for coffee.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The refrigerator door stood slightly ajar, and inside, the container of leftover catfish from last night's dinner was tipped over, empty except for a few bones and a puddle of fish juice.
Elijah stared at the mess, then at the cat, who was now washing his face with meticulous care. "How?" was all he could manage.
The cat looked up, meowed once—a sound suspiciously like a laugh, and then returned to his grooming.
As Elijah cleaned up the mess, he found himself smiling despite the disruption and the mess and the audacity of this five-pound orange creature who had invaded his perfectly ordered life. There was something about the cat's nerve, his complete disregard for Elijah's carefully constructed boundaries, that reminded Elijah of his brother Elias, and maybe, just maybe, of a part of himself he kept buried under all that control.
"Alright, Marmalade," Elijah said, scooping the cat up despite his half-hearted protests. "We'll try this for a week. But you gotta learn some manners, boy."
The cat responded by draping himself over Elijah's shoulders like a stole, purring.
Elijah sighed, but didn't put him down. "Yeah, yeah. You got me. But don't think this means you run things around here."
Marmalade purred louder, clearly calling his bluff.
—
The Great Escape
Two weeks into his unexpected tenure as a cat owner, Elijah had developed what he called "The Marmalade Protocol." It was a simple, three-point system designed to maintain order in his life: 1) All food containers were now cat-proof; 2) No surface was left unattended for more than five minutes; and 3) All windows remained closed at all times.
But on a sweltering Tuesday in May, Elijah made a fatal error. He'd been cooking, something he rarely did anymore since Marmalade had developed an uncanny ability to appear whenever food was present, and his apartment smelled like garlic and butter. Taking out the trash, he cracked the kitchen window just an inch, thinking, "What's the harm? He's asleep on the couch."
The harm, as it turned out, was substantial.
Elijah returned from the dumpster to silence. Not the usual silence of his orderly apartment, but an empty, heavy silence that made the hairs on his arms stand up.
"Marmalade?" he called, his voice casual. "Come get your treat."
Nothing.
He checked the usual hiding spot, under the bed, behind the sofa, inside the closet he'd left slightly ajar that morning. Still nothing.
A knot formed in Elijah's stomach. "Marmalade!" he called again, louder this time. "This ain't funny, boy. Come on out."
The apartment remained stubbornly, terrifyingly empty.
Elijah's search became methodical at first. Room by room, he checked every possible hiding place, moving furniture, opening cabinets, calling the cat's name with increasing urgency. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The knot in his stomach tightened with each empty space he discovered.
"Okay," Elijah said to himself, running a hand over his close-cut fade. "Okay. Think."
He called Elias.
"Yo," Elias answered, background noise suggesting he was at the bar he managed downtown.
"Have you seen Marmalade?" Elijah asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
Elias paused. "The orange devil? Nah, why? He finally escaped?"
"He's gone, man. I can't find him anywhere."
Silence on the other end, followed by a burst of laughter so loud Elijah had to pull the phone away from his ear. "You serious? The mighty Smoke, ruler of all he surveys, done lost a five-pound cat?"
"Elias, this ain't funny," Elijah snapped, his accent thickening with stress. "That damn cat's got my good sense. I been looking for almost an hour."
"An hour?" Elias howled. "Smoke, you been owned. I knew that cat had your number the moment Aunt Mae talked you into taking him."
"Can you help me or not?"
"Hell no. I'm busy. But I'll pray for you. Pray you find your little orange master before he finds some other sucker to torment."
Elias hung up, still laughing.
Elijah stared at his phone, frustration mounting. He hadn't felt this out of control since—well, since he'd agreed to take the cat in the first place.
Twenty minutes later, Elijah was taping "LOST CAT" flyers to telephone poles around his neighborhood, feeling ridiculous. The flyers featured a slightly blurry photo of Marmalade looking unimpressed, with Elijah's number printed below.
"Looking for orange tabby cat," Elijah muttered as he taped another flyer to a stop sign. "Answers to 'Marmalade.' Approximately twelve pounds, one torn ear, attitude problem. Reward offered."
He'd never felt so foolish in his life.
A group of neighborhood kids watched him from across the street, whispering among themselves. The oldest, a girl of about ten with braids and braces, finally approached him.
"You lost your cat, mister?" she asked, her voice serious.
Elijah nodded. "Yeah. Have you seen him?"
"What he look like?"
"Orange. Fat. Mean-looking."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Oh! We seen him! The orange cat who sits on cars like they his throne?"
Elijah's shoulders relaxed. "That's him. Where'd you see him last?"
"Yesterday," she said. "He was chasing squirrels over by Mrs. Henderson's house."
"Which one is that?"
The girl pointed down the street. "The one with all the garden gnomes. Can't miss it."
Elijah pulled a twenty from his wallet. "Thanks. If you see him again, call me." He handed her one of his flyers.
The girl looked at the money, then at Elijah. "We'll help you look. Right, guys?"
The other kids nodded, suddenly eager to assist. Elijah found himself leading a search party of children through his upscale neighborhood, calling "Marmalade!" at regular intervals.
They searched for an hour with no success. Elijah's frustration was mounting, his carefully maintained calm cracking at the edges. The kids were getting restless, and Elijah was about to call it quits when he heard it, a faint meow that sounded suspiciously like a demand.
"You hear that?" he asked the kids.
They shook their heads.
Elijah followed the sound, walking faster as it grew clearer. Three blocks from his apartment, he rounded a corner and stopped dead.
There, in the middle of a backyard garden party, sat Marmalade on a pristine white tablecloth, calmly eating shrimp off a silver platter while the party guests watched in amusement.
Elijah stood frozen for a moment, torn between relief and embarrassment. The cat looked up, saw him, and deliberately knocked another shrimp onto the ground before returning to his meal.
Taking a deep breath, Elijah approached the table. "Ma'am," he said, his smooth voice betraying none of his inner turmoil. "I do apologize for this... creature."
The hostess, a woman in her sixties with perfectly coiffed silver hair, smiled. "Oh, don't worry about it, dear. He's been the entertainment of the afternoon. We were wondering who he belonged to."
Elijah scooped up Marmalade, who protested with a meow that sounded suspiciously like a complaint. "He's supposed to be at home. In my apartment. Where he belongs."
"Well, he certainly knows how to make an entrance," the hostess said, patting Marmalade's head. "And he has excellent taste in shrimp."
Elijah managed a tight smile. "That he does. Again, my apologies."
As he turned to leave, one of the other guests called out, "He's welcome back anytime!"
Elijah didn't respond, just kept walking, Marmalade draped over his shoulders like a scarf, purring.
The trip home was quiet, Elijah stewing in a mixture of relief and irritation. Marmalade, meanwhile, seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, occasionally butting his head against Elijah's cheek in what felt suspiciously like gloating.
"You know," Elijah said as they approached their building, "for a minute there, I was worried. I was thinking, 'What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt?' And here you are, living your best life at some garden party."
Marmalade responded with a particularly loud purr.
"Unbelievable," Elijah muttered, but his hand came up to stroke the cat's back anyway.
That night, after Marmalade had eaten his weight in expensive cat food and fallen asleep on Elijah's favorite jacket, Elijah quietly installed childproof locks on all his windows. As he worked, Marmalade watched from the sofa, his golden eyes following Elijah's every move with what looked like amusement.
"You think this is funny, don't you?" Elijah asked, tightening the last screw.
Marmalade blinked slowly, then rolled onto his back, paws in the air, completely exposed and vulnerable.
Elijah sighed. "Yeah, I know. You're just a cat. You don't understand concepts like boundaries or personal property or the fact that I nearly had a heart attack this afternoon."
The cat stretched, then stood up and made his way to Elijah, rubbing against his legs before jumping into his lap.
"Alright," Elijah said, scratching behind Marmalade's torn ear. "We'll call it even this time. But next time? Next time, I'm sending you to Elias' house."
Marmalade purred, already planning his next escape.
—
The Sickness Scare
Three months into what Elijah had privately dubbed "The Marmalade Era," a fragile truce had settled over his apartment. The cat still slept on his face, still occasionally opened the refrigerator, and still regarded Elijah with the air of a disgruntled landlord tolerating a particularly annoying tenant. But they'd found their rhythm. Elijah had learned to keep his whiskey glasses away from the counter edge, and Marmalade had learned that Elijah's expensive leather jackets made superior beds to the floor.
So when Marmalade didn't greet Elijah at the door on Tuesday evening, Elijah didn't immediately panic. The cat was probably sleeping, or plotting his next escape, or judging Elijah from some high perch where he couldn't be reached.
But dinner came and went with no sign of the orange menace. The wet food Elijah spooned into Marmalade's designer bowl remained untouched, a personal offense in Elijah's carefully curated world.
"Marmalade?" Elijah called, his voice casual as he searched the apartment. "Come get your dinner, boy. It's that salmon stuff you like."
Nothing.
He found the cat under his bed, curled into a tight ball of orange fur. When Elijah reached for him, Marmalade didn't protest or try to escape. He just lay there, breathing shallowly, his usually vibrant eyes dull and unfocused.
"Hey," Elijah murmured, stroking the cat's back. "What's wrong, lil' man? You not feeling good?"
Marmalade responded with a weak meow that barely made it past his teeth.
Elijah's calmness began to fray. He checked the cat over, finding no obvious injuries, no signs of a fight. Just... lethargy. And the untouched food.
"Alright," Elijah said, more to himself than to the cat. "Let's not panic. Maybe you just ate something you shouldn't have. Again."
But as the night wore on, Elijah's concern grew. Marmalade refused water, refused treats, refused to move from his spot under the bed. Every hour, Elijah checked on him, finding the cat in the same position, breathing growing more labored.
By morning, Elijah's controlled exterior had completely cracked. He paced his living room, hands clenched at his sides, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios. Poisoning. Injury. Some mysterious cat disease that would require expensive treatments and possibly end in heartbreak.
"Stop it," Elijah muttered, "You're being ridiculous. He's probably just got a stomach ache."
But when Marmalade refused to even lift his head at the sound of the can opener, Elijah made a decision.
Twenty minutes later, Elijah was driving his truck through Jackson like he was in a high-speed chase, weaving through traffic with a single-minded focus that would have impressed his tactical training instructors. The cat, secured in a carrier on the passenger seat, remained unnervingly still.
"Come on, Marmalade," Elijah muttered, glancing over at the carrier. "Don't do this to me, boy. Don't you dare do this to me."
The 24-hour emergency vet clinic was bright and sterile and smelled of antiseptic and fear. Elijah carried the carrier inside, his heart pounding with an intensity that surprised him. He'd faced down armed insurgents in Iraq, negotiated with cartel leaders, and stared down the barrel of more guns than he could count. But this—this small, orange creature in a plastic carrier—had him sweating.
The waiting room was crowded with worried pet owners and their sick companions. A woman with a shaking chihuahua in her lap, a man cradling a golden retriever with a bloody paw, a teenager crying softly over a cat in a carrier similar to Elijah's.
Elijah found an empty chair and set the carrier down beside him, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He checked his phone, then put it away. Checked it again. Put it away again. His hands kept clenching and unclenching in his lap.
"Elijah Moore?"
Elijah looked up to find a young vet tech in scrubs smiling at him. "Jasmine, right?" he said, recognition dawning. "We met at the community center last month."
Jasmine's eyes widened. "Mr. Moore! I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were more of a... people person."
Elijah managed a tight smile. "Things change. It's my aunt's cat. I'm just... temporary custody."
"Well, let's take a look at him," Jasmine said, reaching for the carrier.
Elijah hesitated, then handed it over. "He hasn't eaten in about 24 hours. Barely moving. Just lying around."
"Don't worry," Jasmine said, her voice reassuring. "Dr. Chen is the best. We'll figure out what's going on."
As she carried the carrier toward the examination room, Elijah felt something he hadn't felt in years, helplessness. He could manage teams and handle crises. But this? This was beyond his control.
Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Chen, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, approached him.
"Mr. Moore?" she said, extending a hand. "I'm Dr. Chen. We've examined Marmalade."
"And?" Elijah asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
"Well, the good news is it's nothing life-threatening," she said, smiling. "The bad news is it's going to require some... intervention."
Elijah waited, hands clenched at his sides.
"Marmalade has what we call a hairball blockage," Dr. Chen explained. "Common in long-haired cats, but orange cats are particularly prone to it. He'll need to stay overnight for observation, and we'll need to administer some medication to help him pass the blockage."
Elijah felt the tension leave his shoulders in a rush. "So he's going to be okay?"
"He'll be fine," Dr. Chen assured him. "But we'll need to keep him here tonight. You can pick him up tomorrow afternoon, assuming everything goes as expected."
"Can I see him?" Elijah asked, surprising himself with the question.
Dr. Chen nodded. "Of course. Follow me."
Marmalade was in a small recovery cage, IV drip in his leg, looking miserable but stable. When Elijah approached, the cat lifted his head weakly and meowed.
"Hey, boy," Elijah murmured, reaching through the bars to stroke the cat's fur. "You gotta stop tryna kill yo'self, lil' man. This ain't the way."
Marmalade responded by licking Elijah's finger with a dry tongue.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Elijah promised. "You just rest up. We got special food waiting for you at home. Prescription stuff. Expensive as hell, but you're worth it."
The cat closed his eyes, purring faintly.
The next day, Elijah picked up Marmalade with a bag full of prescription diet food, medication, and detailed instructions from Dr. Chen. The cat, while still subdued, was clearly feeling better, meowing periodically and even attempting to escape his carrier.
That night, Elijah set up Marmalade's special bed beside his own, complete with a heated blanket and a new toy he'd bought on impulse. He administered the medication, fed the cat the expensive prescription food, and settled in for a night of what he expected to be fitful sleep.
But sleep wouldn't come. Every creak of the building, every sigh from the cat, sent Elijah bolting upright to check on him. By midnight, he'd given up on his own bed entirely, choosing instead to sleep on the floor beside Marmalade's bed, waking every hour to ensure the cat was still breathing.
"You're being ridiculous," Elijah muttered to himself around 3 AM, adjusting his position on the hardwood floor. "The cat's fine. Dr. Chen said he'd be fine."
But still he stayed, unable to tear himself away until the first light of dawn crept through his windows.
He must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing he knew, Elias was standing over him, phone in hand, grinning like the devil himself.
"Well, well, well," Elias said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look what we have here. The mighty Smoke, sleeping on the floor for a cat."
Elijah sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here? How'd you get in?"
"Spare key you gave me last year, remember?" Elias said, waving the key in question. "And I came to check on my favorite nephew. Seems like I came just in time for the blackmail material."
Elias held up his phone, displaying a picture of Elijah asleep on the floor, Marmalade curled up beside him like they were some modern-day holy family.
"Delete that," Elijah said, reaching for the phone.
"Hell no," Elias said, stepping back. "This is going in the family group chat. Aunt Mae needs to see how her favorite nephew has been domesticated."
Before Elijah could protest, Elias had sent the picture, his phone buzzing almost immediately with incoming messages.
"You're a dead man," Elijah muttered, pushing himself to his feet.
"Love you too," Elias called over his shoulder as he let himself out. "Tell the orange devil I said hi!"
Elijah watched him go, then turned his attention back to the cat, who was now awake and looking at him.
"Don't you start," Elijah warned, pointing a finger. "This is all your fault."
Marmalade responded by standing up, stretching, and then leaping onto the nightstand to knock Elijah's phone onto the floor with deliberate precision.
Elijah stared at the cat, then at his phone, then back at the cat. Relief washed over him so strongly it made his knees weak.
"After all that fuss," Elijah muttered, scooping the cat up and burying his face in orange fur, "you just fine, ain't you?"
Marmalade purred, loud and obnoxious and unrepentant.
—
The Visitor
Three months after the hairball incident, Elijah had found a new kind of normal. Marmalade, now on a strict diet of prescription food and regular grooming, had lost some weight and gained a new level of confidence. The cat still regarded Elijah with occasional disdain, but there was an understanding between them, a fragile truce built on mutual tolerance and Elijah's willingness to admit that, sometimes, the orange bastard won.
Which is why the upcoming date with Nia felt like such a big deal.
Nia was a curator at the Mississippi Museum of Art, all sharp wit and soft smiles, with a mind that moved as quickly as Elijah's but with a warmth that drew people in. They'd met at a gallery opening—Elijah reluctantly accompanying Elias who was there to "network" (i.e., flirt with anything that moved), and spent the entire night discussing Southern artists and systemic inequality in art funding.
He'd been thinking about her ever since.
The day of their first real date, Elijah took the morning off work to prepare. His apartment, usually pristine, received the deep-clean treatment of a surgical suite. He vacuumed, dusted, polished surfaces until they gleamed, and then turned his attention to the real problem.
"Alright, Marmalade," Elijah said, scooping up the cat who was watching him with suspicion. "We need to talk about tonight."
The cat blinked slowly.
"This is important. This is Nia. The woman from the museum. The one with the laugh that makes my chest feel bubbly"
Marmalade yawned.
"So here's the plan," Elijah continued, carrying the cat to the bedroom. "You're going to stay in here tonight. I've got your food, your water, your favorite toys. You'll be comfortable. You'll be safe. And most importantly, you won't be able to ruin my life."
He set Marmalade down on the bed, where the cat immediately started kneading the expensive comforter with his claws.
"No," Elijah said, gently removing the cat's paws. "Not the comforter. I just bought this."
Marmalade responded by jumping onto the nightstand and knocking over Elijah's cologne bottle.
"You're doing this on purpose," Elijah muttered, cleaning up the spill. "I know you're doing this on purpose."
After securing the bedroom door, double-checking the lock, even wedging a chair under the handle for good measure, Elijah turned his attention to dinner. He was making gumbo, a recipe his mother had taught him, the kind of meal that said "I'm serious about this" without having to actually say the words.
At 7:00 PM, right on schedule, his doorbell rang.
Elijah took a deep breath, smoothed down his shirt, and opened the door to find Nia standing there, looking like something out of a dream in a white dress that set off her mocha skin perfectly.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "I come bearing wine and high hopes."
"Hey yourself," Elijah replied, his voice smoother than he'd intended. "Come on in."
Nia stepped inside, her eyes widening slightly as she took in his apartment. "Wow. This is... really nice, Elijah."
"Thanks," he said, taking the bottle of wine from her. "I try."
Their conversation flowed as easily as it had at the gallery—art, politics, family, the strange experience of being Black professionals in Jackson. Elijah found himself relaxing, his usual guardedness melting away under Nia's warmth.
They were on their second glass of wine, discussing the challenges of preserving Black Southern art traditions, when they heard it.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Both of them turned toward the bedroom door.
"What's that?" Nia asked, brow furrowed.
"Nothing," Elijah said quickly. "Probably just the building settling."
Scratch. Scratch. THUD.
The bedroom door swung open, and there stood Marmalade, looking triumphant.
"How did he—?" Elijah started, but before he could finish, the cat trotted directly to Nia and leaped into her lap with the grace of a small, orange predator.
"Oh!" Nia exclaimed, laughing as she started petting him. "Well, hello there. You must be the famous Marmalade."
Elijah watched in horror as the cat—clearly sensing an opportunity—deliberately knocked over Nia's wine glass. Red wine spread across her white dress like blood from a wound.
"Oh my God," Elijah said, jumping up to grab paper towels. "I am so sorry. I don't know how he got out. I locked the door."
"It's okay," Nia said, dabbing at the stain with a napkin. "It's just wine."
But Marmalade wasn't done.
The cat climbed from Nia's lap to the table, took a few steps, and then proceeded to regurgitate a hairball directly onto the remaining clean portion of Nia's expensive white dress.
Elijah froze, his smooth charm evaporating. "Oh, I am so sorry," he said, his voice cracking with disbelief. "I—I don't even know what to say right now."
Nia looked down at the mess on her dress, then at the cat, who was now grooming himself like nothing had happened, and then at Elijah. And then she started laughing.
Not a polite chuckle, but a deep, genuine laugh that made her whole body shake.
"It's okay," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Really. I have three nephews. I've been peed on, pooped on, and puked on more times than I can count. This is nothing."
Elijah stared at her, relief washing over him so strongly it made his knees weak. "You're not mad?"
"Baby, I'm impressed," Nia said, still laughing. "That cat has better timing than a comedian."
But Marmalade, apparently feeling that the evening wasn't quite ruined enough, had one more trick up his sleeve.
The cat disappeared into the bedroom and returned moments later with something in his mouth. He trotted to the table, jumped up, and dropped his prize at Nia's feet.
A box of condoms.
Elijah's face burned with embarrassment. "I—those aren't—I don't know how he got those—"
Nia picked up the box, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, now. That's forward, even for a first date."
Elijah buried his face in his hands. "I am so sorry. I'm going to kill that cat. Slowly."
"Don't you dare," Nia said, scooping up Marmalade and scratching behind his ears. "I like him. He's got character."
The date ended early, but not in disaster. Nia, still laughing, promised to call him tomorrow to reschedule. As he walked her to the door, she turned and kissed his cheek.
"Next time," she whispered, "maybe we meet at my place. Just in case your cat has any more... presents to share."
Elijah watched her go, then turned back to his apartment, where Marmalade was now sitting on the sofa.
Elijah sighed, but his hand came up to stroke the cat's back anyway. "You know, for a minute there, I thought I'd blown it."
Marmalade purred louder, rubbing his head against Elijah's cheek.
"Yeah, yeah," Elijah muttered. "You're a genius. A five-pound orange genius who's going to cost me my sanity."
But as he stood there in his ruined evening, cat purring on his shoulders and the memory of Nia's laughter still fresh in his mind, Elijah had to admit—maybe a little chaos wasn't so bad after all.
—
The Acceptance
Six months after Marmalade's dramatic entrance into his life, Elijah's morning routine had transformed in ways he'd never anticipated. Where once he woke to the sterile silence of his alarm clock, he now rose to the rhythmic vibration of purring against his chest. The cat, now sleeker from his prescription diet but still gloriously orange, had claimed Elijah's body as his personal sleeping quarters every night since the hairball incident.
"Morning, lil' man," Elijah murmured, voice thick with sleep as he stroked the cat's back. "You let me breathe tonight or you tried to suffocate me again?"
Marmalade responded by butting his head against Elijah's chin, a gesture that had become their version of a handshake.
Elijah slid out of bed, the cat immediately following him to the kitchen like a furry shadow. As he prepared coffee, Elijah grabbed a mug from the cabinet, a gift from Nia that read "Cat Dad: Fueling Chaos Since 2026." He didn't even notice the irony anymore.
His apartment had slowly undergone a similar transformation. The minimalist art he'd carefully selected now shared wall space with prints of cats in various poses of disapproval. The leather throw pillows he'd splurged on were now supplemented with cat-shaped ones that Nia kept "accidentally" leaving behind. His life, once a testament to control and order, had become a carefully curated chaos.
The change hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Damn," Elias said, leaning against Elijah's kitchen counter three weeks after Nia had officially become his girlfriend. "When did my brother's apartment turn into a cat shrine?"
Elijah didn't look up from the eggs he was scrambling. "It's called having a life, Elias. You should try it sometime."
"Nah, this ain't just having a life," Elias said, picking up a ceramic cat figurine from the bookshelf. "This is domestication. My brother done gone soft."
Elijah finally turned, spatula in hand. "It's called adaptation, nigga. Look it up."
Elias laughed, but his eyes held something like concern. "For real though, Smoke. You good? This ain't like you."
"I'm good," Elijah said, turning back to the stove. "Better than good."
As if on cue, Marmalade trotted into the kitchen and wound around Elijah's legs, purring like a motorboat.
"See?" Elijah said, pointing down with the spatula. "Even the devil cat agrees."
Later that evening, after Elias had left and Nia had come over for dinner, Elijah found himself talking to Marmalade while cleaning up.
"You know," he said, scraping leftovers into the cat's bowl, "you been behaving better lately. Almost like you're trying to impress Nia."
The cat, now sitting regally on the counter, blinked slowly.
"Don't give me that look," Elijah continued, washing dishes. "I see how you act all sweet when she's around. Then soon as she leaves, you're back to knocking shit off tables and opening my bedroom door."
Marmalade meowed, then jumped down and trotted to the door, looking back expectantly.
"What? You wanna go out?" Elijah asked, drying his hands. "It's almost dark, man. You know the rules."
The cat meowed again, more insistently this time.
Elijah sighed. "Fine. But we're not going far. And if you try to pull that garden party shit again, I'm leaving you there."
Five minutes later, they were walking around the apartment complex, Marmalade on a leash that Elijah had bought after the Great Escape. The cat, once resistant to any form of restraint, now tolerated the leash with the dignity of a king allowing himself to be escorted.
"You know," Elijah said as they walked, "you've come a long way. Remember when you wouldn't even let me touch you without trying to take my hand off?"
Marmalade looked up at him, then rubbed against his leg.
"Yeah, I know," Elijah said softly. "You're a good little dude... when you ain't bein' the devil."
They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Elijah spoke again. "You know what we're doing tomorrow? We're going to the community center. Ms. Johnson said the kids in the after-school program have been asking about you."
The cat looked up at the mention of the community center, his tail twitching with what looked like recognition.
It had started two months ago, when Elijah had brought Marmalade to the center for a check-up, and the kids had gone wild over the orange cat. Now, they visited twice a month, Marmalade serving as an unofficial therapy animal for kids who needed a soft, warm body to cuddle.
"They love you," Elijah said, reaching down to scratch the cat's head. "Especially little Jamal. He's been talking about you all week. Says you're his 'orange angel' or some shit."
Marmalade responded by rubbing his face against Elijah's hand, purring.
"Yeah, yeah," Elijah murmured. "Don't let it go to your head."
The next day, after they visited the community center, where Marmalade had indeed been little Jamal's orange angel, Elias stopped by unexpectedly.
"Yo," Elias said, letting himself in. "Brought beer. Thought we could catch the game."
"Beer's in the fridge," Elijah called from the living room, where he was sitting on the sofa, Marmalade curled up beside him.
Elias grabbed two beers and joined them, settling into the armchair. "How'd it go at the center today?"
"Good," Elijah said, stroking the cat's back. "Jamal read to him for twenty minutes. Said Marmalade's his best audience."
Elias watched them for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You know, for a minute there, I thought you were gonna get rid of him after that garden party incident."
Elijah smiled, then leaned down and kissed the cat's head. "Nah. He grows on you."
Elias' eyes widened. "Did you just kiss that cat?"
Elijah straightened up, his face flushing. "No."
"I saw you," Elias said, grinning. "You kissed that cat right on his orange head."
"I did not," Elijah insisted, but his lack of conviction was telling.
Elias pulled out his phone. "I'm telling everybody. The mighty Smoke, kissing cats like they his babies."
Elijah lunged for the phone, but Elias was too quick. "Don't you tell nobody. I'll deny it to my grave."
"Too late," Elias said, typing furiously. "Aunt Mae's gonna love this."
Elijah flopped back onto the sofa, defeated. "I hate you."
"Nah, you love me," Elias said, pocketing his phone. "And you love that orange demon too. Admit it."
Elijah didn't respond, just kept stroking Marmalade's back as the cat purred against his side.
That night, after Nia had gone home and the apartment was quiet again, Elijah settled onto the sofa with a book. Marmalade jumped up beside him, circled three times, then settled on his chest like he'd been doing it his whole life.
"You know," Elijah murmured, closing his book and wrapping his arms around the cat, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad Aunt Mae guilt-tripped me into taking you."
Marmalade responded by purring louder, the vibration soothing Elijah into a state of contentment he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
"Yeah, yeah," Elijah whispered, his eyes growing heavy.
As sleep claimed him, Elijah's last conscious thought was of how much his life had changed in six short months. The control he'd prized so highly had been replaced by something warmer, messier, and infinitely more rewarding.
The calm twin had found his perfect storm in a five-pound orange package.
A gritty, Neo-noir crime drama that explores themes of morality, brotherhood, and love.
An alternate universe where twin brothers Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore never return to Mississippi after World War I. Instead, they make a name for themselves during the height of the Harlem Renaissance, where number slips and jazz clubs fuel dreams. But when Smoke becomes enamored by a mysterious woman from New Orleans, he decides he wants to leave the game for good.
Contains: Explicit language, sexual content, drugs, violence, death, themes of love, loyalty, morality, and family.
Prologue
In 1917, Elijah and Elias Moore left the cotton fields of Clarksdale, Mississippi and never looked back.
With just the clothes on their backs they made their way to Manhattan, where they enlisted and shipped off with the 369th Infantry Regiment.
The Black Rattlers.
The Harlem Hellfighters.
191 days of front-line combat. Of trenches. Of gunfire and grenades. It changed them. But the Moore twins were carved by violence long before they set foot on European soil.
Their father used to beat them. Regularly. Mercilessly. From the time they were too young and weak to fight back. Then one day the pendulum swung. A sudden, bloody shift where the students finally outmastered their teacher.
So they took a train up north.
By the time they came back from the war, they swore they’d never go back to Mississippi. Not to the cotton fields, not to sharecropping, not to their father’s shadow, and not to the klan or Jim Crow breathing down their necks.
Harlem was where it was at. It was glittering, alive, musical, brilliant. It was expanding, demanding, thriving. Becoming. It was the Black Mecca of the north. Some folks called it a Negro Renaissance. A revival.
Others would say it’s what should have been all along, but it never had the soil or sunlight to survive. Literati, intelligentsia, poets, physicians, engineers, singers, musicians, librarians—thinkers. Black folks in Harlem had the space to exist and expand.
The twins hustled from Central Harlem to Hamilton Heights. They joined the numbers racket in the 1920’s— providing enforcement, protection, punishment.
They earned their nicknames in muscle, grit, and gunplay—
The SmokeStack Twins.
Smoke was the controlled violence, the calm hand. Stack was social violence with a smile.
Now more than a decade later they were flourishing. From 135th, to 155th, to the Hudson River— Hamilton Heights was their playground.
And Sugar Hill was where they called home.
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