#cornbread x therese

A/N: I can’t tell you how long this song has been stuck in my head recently and then I thought over which character can I write this for? It only makes sense 😆

WARNINGS: a little longer than intended, language, acts of violence, & Mary slander.

synopsis: It was supposed to be fireworks in the sky…but yours went off lakeside. You already knew what it was. The water has its own taste. Just ask Mary.

<- rewind to the previous anthology track here.

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚

[~Clearlake, CA~]

Stack is driving.

The sky is the shade of cotton candy while the two of you are cruising around the curves of the road, and the windows to Stack’s candy apple red vintage Porsche are down to let the fresh air in—cause you “needed” it, his words not yours.

You can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, even underneath his shades as you sat passenger side. He leaned over towards his window, elbow resting on the door with his right hand at the top of the steering wheel, trying to be slick as he’s side eyeing you.

Your gaze was on your swollen and scrapped up knuckles, until you rolled your neck to send Stack a matching narrow of your own eyes.

“See,” he starts out with his usual Mississippi drawl, “I knew yo ass was crazy from the first day I met’cha.”

You scoff, throwing your head back to tap the headrest.

“Says the man that started to square up with a pigeon.”

“That mothafucker took my piguet.”

“Which you should have left in the car.”

“Fuck would I do that for?” Stack questions, “I needed to flex on these yacht ownin’ sons of bitches, just like they try to show out thinkin’ a black man can’t also be successful…you know what? This ain’t even about me. It’s about you, ma.”

A scoff immediately flies out of your mouth, “And what about me?”

“If I remember correctly,” Stack starts, still leaned over, yet chilling against the steering wheel, “You’re always the one lecturing me to be good n’ shit and there you go.”

You point to yourself, making Stack dip his head at you mockingly, “You act like I don’t know when a bitch tryna bait me.”

The bump on the overcrowded boat didn’t feel accidental. It felt more like a shove. It was hard enough to send the blue lagoon in your martini glass sloshing over the rim. By the time you turned to see who did it, she was already facing you—too quickly. How convenient.

There Mary Sicard stood in a red bathing suit to match her cover-up and, most likely, to match someone else.

Stack’s signature had always been red.

She attempted small talk at the start but the jabs landed quicker.

“You know stack told me he was also comin’ to this big shindig.” She cooed, leaning towards you as if she was letting in on a secret rather than making sure you heard her over the music, “I’m sure as soon as he see’s me he’ll have a drink waitin’ for me. He’s always been good at tending to my needs.”

You had no plans to stick around and talk to her. You knew how to be cordial (when necessary) but liking the little hoe wasn’t on your summer to-do list.

Sighing you respond, “Maybe if you tended to Andrew, you know your husband? And his needs, then he wouldn’t be grabbing on asses that don’t belong to him.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?” Mary snarls.

She shouldn’t be so surprised. Word from Smoke was Mary and Andrew had an open marriage—one Andrew only agreed to when he wasn’t sober.

“You heard me,” you smiled wide, voice dipped in fake sugar, watching her nostrils flare, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be huffing and ready to blow this boat down trying to look for my—let me spell that for you, M-Y, my man. Go find yours before he ends up with a charge from one of these other good women, which disrespectfully…you’re not.”

Mary felt a tick in her jaw as you got the upper hand.

You peeped it. You liked it.

The way your vibrant nails caught the light as you waved her off, mirrored in the shades pushed up into her hair, felt like karma waiting for her, served cold, melting like a ice cream cone that you held, with the brightest of smirks on your face.

The difference between you and Mary was evident. She was stuck living in the past and came looking for a fight that had nothing to do with you.

You were the future. Stack’s.

A rising sun that was meant to stay.

“I’ve got your good woman,” Mary calls out to you, hand going out to grip your shoulder and turn you back to her, “The only thing Stack will ever know is me. I bet every second he’s with you, I’m always on his mind. After all…you did miss out on that business trip to New York. Let’s just say…he didn’t waste his time with sleep. Not with me there.”

It’s the wink. And her hand, still on you, starting to burn like a bullet waiting to be fired. Her sunscreen smells like honeyed grapefruit on her wrist. You can feel your blood begin to simmer, because this girl really thinks she’s won.

Won what, exactly? You’d have to ask the delusion infecting whatever’s left inside her skull.

Stack shakes his head at you, knocking his knuckles against your thigh to pull you back down from wherever you were, “And what did you do? Take the bait. Yeah look at you, daydreamin’ so hard about it, got you showing your tooth gems and back rows. Yo ass is a maniac.”

He was one to talk.

But that was another argument.

For another time.

Shrugging you say, “I warned your heffa of an ex too many times now. Then she had the nerve to lie about New York, like you don’t call me a thousand times a day? She’s lucky I didn’t slice those moles right off her dumb face with my martini glass. Shit, hopefully the sharks will bite them off for me.”

Stack highly doubted there were any sharks in that lake. But you probably knew better—since you’d been keeping up with shark trackings the second summer hit.

He runs his tongue across his own grillz in his mouth.

“And you’re lucky we got off the boat on time before the feds showed up. Last thing I need is them on my dick ‘cause my girl was about to body a has-been who can’t let go.”

You roll your eyes but there’s a sense of pride in you. You wouldn’t lie about that as your bruised hand goes to grip his face, facial hair pricking against your palm while you cupped his face, “You love that shit. And you call me the twisted one.”

He doesn’t deny it, sending you a grin full of dimples. “What can I say? I’ve always been attracted to women who can hold their own. The one sittin’ right beside me will remain in my number one spot, though.”

Keeping his eyes on the multiple curves of the road, he can’t help but to slightly turn towards you with his face still in your hand. You nod your head, also moving forward to peck his lips.

“You know you can’t go around praying that people get eaten by freshwater fish, like it’ll finish the job.”

Sucking your teeth, you squeeze his cheeks together in disagreement before letting go, “Mary isn’t people. She’s a raggedy jezebel with nice eyes and a smart ass mouth. I hope jaws eats those first.”

Stack lets out a low whistle, hand going back to your thigh, “Aight killa, let’s try and focus on the fresh air and scenery instead, huh?”

Giving him a flat look with a purse of your lips, you sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest while Stack runs small circles above your kneecap.

“…You’ll rub my back later?”

Stack snorts, not at the fact that you had chronic lower back pain but because you sounded so damn cute, even after that mess you found yourself in.

“Hell yeah I will,” stack answers, “Might even throw in a deluxe package: booty rub included.

It was on the tip of your tongue to throw Andrew’s name in there at the mention of booties but the alarms in your head told you to keep that to yourself. It was in everyone’s best interest and if Stack found out about that?

Both of y’all would have started singing that one Akon track.

With in sync smiles, he keeps running soothing circles against your skin while you turn your gaze to the right, water beyond the rocks, glistening from the sun, just like what you would see in Stack’s eyes whenever he snuck glances at you.

And he would deny it every time with a smirk right on his lips.

Finally.

His moment of peace.

That he loved having because of you.

Until a few days later…

You’re seated in the dining room, Sammie’s lounging in the living room with his guitar in his hands, fallen asleep not that long ago, still dealing with the aftermath of his ex, Pearline choosing to officially get a divorce from her husband and move out of the delta for good once finalized.

She also had wild dreams of being on stage, much like Sammie.

She even performed with him and solo at a few of his shows!

It was rough for Stack’s younger cousin.

So he flew in for a couple of days, staying with you two for a break, after wrapping up his tour out in Chicago.

It seems like lately it’s always been a case of an ex.

You’re smiling down at lil Leroy, Cornbread (Clyde, which still gagged you once you learned his government but Stack was always convinced “Cornbread” was his actual name despite the fact they grew up together) and Therese’s baby boy that you’re watching while the woman had to rush off to the bathroom, complaining about her bladder still not being the same since labor.

You were hesitant since you weren’t around a lot of babies or kids but the braided woman persuaded you that every woman had motherly instincts, whether they were destined to be a mother or not.

It’s just part of nurturing.

Their kid was pretty cute, much to Stack’s surprise but you became good friends with the couple after Cornbread started being around more due to Stack and Smoke’s business endeavors.

He was currently off with Smoke out in Alabama (both men would always be country boys through and through and preferred southern locations over the west) and both you and Stack agreed to keep an eye out on Therese and Lil Leroy.

Therese had a quiet nature about her with a good head on her shoulders and had a photographic memory. Stack was convinced she was a witch too.

That man had something to say about anyone.

Rocking lil Leroy to sleep more than Sammie’s blues, you gaze only shifted to the breath-taking water views out your dining room window, for maybe a minute before you hear footsteps making their way around the corner.

Stack tossed a thick manila envelope on the dining room table, marked: Certified Mail – Legal Notice — making you turn your gaze up to his.

His hand rests on the back of the chair you sat in, toothpick in his mouth as confusion was also the expression on his face.

“You got mail, killa.”

Your eyes zero in on it, taking a deep inhale as you decide, “I’m not interested.”

Stack laughs, reaching over to open it up himself, “C’mon, ain’t you a little bit curious?”

“I’m pretty sure what you’re doing right now is illegal.”

Stack and you both meet each other’s share, holding it before he winks at you and you’re left shaking your head while you slowly rock from side to side with the little one in your arms.

“Gotta keep those hands pretty,” Stack comments as he pulls out papers, “You’re more paper cut prone than me anyway.”

He just wanted to be nosy but alright.

“The fuck?” Is the first thing that comes out of Stack’s mouth as his eyes scan over the words on the paper.

Your eyes go wide, reminding him of the literal child in your arms, “Elias. Baby in the room.”

“My fault, little nigga.” Stack peeks down at the sleeping baby, “Hope the cussin’ from your favorite uncle don’t affect your sweet dreams.”

“Oh my god.” You cover the sleeping baby’s ears, “I see why Bo and Grace don’t want you around Lisa.”

“Please,” Stack scoffs, “That bad ass girl is what? Twelve? Thirteen? She’s taught me some of the best insults I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His eyes are trained back on the paper before he’s flipping through the packet, “Hol’ up…I know this ain’t from Mary’s punk ass man?”

He slaps the paper down on the dining table, face dark and begins to pace, rubbing at his jaw while you lean forward to see his name and Mary’s husband, Andrew, in bold at the top.

You squint. “Is this a lawsuit? I don’t get why it was addressed to me if it’s mostly aimed at you—

Pausing, you flip over the envelope to study the handwriting. You couldn’t be sure but it definitely looked feminine.

She wouldn’t.

Would she?

“This dude really trying to sue us over some boat day shit?”

It was a “us” matter because anybody coming after the other automatically means you’re a target together.

“He wasn’t even around when Mary got her A-S-S handed to her?”

Stack hums, “Hittin’ us wit a civil claim. Says the boat incident led to ‘irreparable financial damages’ and ‘emotional harm to his legal spouse. If I had known that was his business partner’s yacht, we probably wouldn’t have been on that shit no way.”

You throw your hands up at his use of vocabulary with a whole baby in the room again.

“How would he have even known? I don’t picture the two chatting about her beat down over her nasty raisin potato salad. The relationship doesn’t even give secure! He was probably too busy having a heat stroke mixed with that booger sugar thinking that’s enough of an excuse to sexually harass women.” You sass as you also start to flip through the papers, “Says Mary almost drowned—like that’s not her own fault.”

Therese comes back into the room now, clocking the tension as she pauses while she takes in Stack’s heated glance.

Carefully she placed her purse back on the table, while Stack scraped the chair across from you back to plop down in, knee bouncing and elbows pressed onto the table.

“What I miss?” She asked quietly.

Stack sucked his teeth.

You explain with a stretched smile, “Oh nothing just a lawsuit from bitch Mary and her jackass husband.”

“From that boat party during the Fourth of July?” Therese questioned, making you blink at her, “Oh…Annie mentioned something about it, how she was glad Smoke wasn’t goin’ and figured you’d keep Stack in check.”

Stack scoffed, “My sister-in-law should have mixed up a potion to prevent Mary’s ass from starting some shit. I wonder if she knew Mary was going…matter fact, imma call her tonight.”

Annie wasn’t like that.

Yes she was closer with Mary since she got involved with Smoke from the age of eighteen not long after moving up from Louisiana, the two were practically like sisters. Half—maybe but you and Annie were cool too.

She would never set you or even Stack up like that.

Annie wasn’t with the drama.

“Don’t be pissed off when she declines your call.”

Stack shrugged his shoulders like that had no effect on him, “I know where she stay at.”

You laughed.

Therese took it upon herself to take the packet into her hands, sitting at the head of the table to your left, one leg crossed over the other, her single braid resting against her shoulder.

“Emotional distress. Pain and suffering. Property repairs,” Therese summarized, “Looks like he used a template and didn’t even clean up the headers properly. It looks annoying enough. A quick cash grab even but I’m no lawyer, just a postal worker. My cousin practices civil and I can get his entail on it if y’all want?”

You’re nodding your head.

Stack clasps his hands, loudly enough to make Sammie stir but Stack lifts his chin towards the sleeping baby, taking in yet another warning the two women in the room send him, “Say that.”

“We’d appreciate it, Rese.”

She smiles, “Of course. Apparently you got about thirty days to respond…we’ll get this straightened out in less. May I take these with me?”

“Burn ‘em when you’re done,” Stack answers, “I was going to use them as my toliet paper tonight anyway.”

“Boy, ew.” You scrunched up your nose while Therese laughed to herself, placing the packet back into the envelope before sticking them into the outside section of her baby bag.

Therese is back on her feet, “Yeah then it’s best I keep it just in case,” she moves around the dining room to grab the car seat to gently sit on the table, “I best be gettin’ home before it gets dark. My sight is not great at night.”

She thanks you as she takes her baby back into her arms before securing him into the car seat.

Stack is fully waking Sammie up now, ordering him to help Therese to her car. The both of you stand in the doorway watching the three down below in the driveway before you tell Therese to give you a ring when she gets back.

Sammie headed right down stairs once he entered back through the home, ready to fully crash early for the night, leaving you two up on the main floor seated in the living room.

Your legs are thrown over his lap, Stack is slouched down, just finished rolling one up that he split between the two of you.

“You ever think life’d be quiet when we settle down?” He starts, after exhaling.

Lolling your head over to meet his eyes you grin, “You? Settling?”

Stack raises a brow, “You actin’ as if we ain’t been locked in. Bout to catch a case over yo ass and everything too.”

“That’s not settling.”

“What is it then?” He inquired.

A twitch of your lips is prominent, “Ride or die.”

He snorts but gently knocks his forehead against your face before handing the joint back to you, “Corny.”

You laugh once more, taking it and enjoying the quiet.

“Speaking of dying,” Stack begins drumming his fingers against your thigh, “…What’s this I hear about coke head Andrew sexually harassing women? There sum’n you need to tell me? Do I gotta bring Tony out?”

“Tony,” as in his favorite piece he bought from some Italian mobster man when Stack got his business started in Chicago.

Oh no.

At the end of the day…somebody’s gonna get dealt with.

It could have all been so simple, if everyone just learned to stay in their own lane.

Yet with someone like Andrew Sicard, they forget that the streets don’t do lawsuits. His mistake was thinking he could put fear in Stack Moore’s chest.

Andrew liked numbers.

Stack?

He loved headlines.

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚