summer in dooley

Prologue

P is for Pockets, Pussy, Players, Pivoting, and Plot Twists.

“This nigga is on my last fucking nerve. Begging for grocery funds to at least fill my granny’s fridge to show my gratitude for her keeping Julian while I’m at work is fucking ridiculous.

I’m not asking for rent money or play money or anything of the sort.

Yet this bitch acts like I’m asking him to fund a BBL. ”

Invisible steam rushed from Saga’s nose.

My stomach sank as I watched it widen and then shrink to its original size.

She was internalizing every rejection she’d received from the father of her child.

The tears were waiting to fall, but I was certain they never would.

It didn’t matter how many times her voice cracked or how much her eyeballs stung.

“You’re already fighting allegations, Saga. A BBL would look ridiculous on your back.”

Laughter sprouted. My heart fluttered. Hearing my best friend of twelve years sound so helpless was taunting.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, babe. I’ve told you already. I don’t mind helping. I’ll buy the groceries.”

I tipped the champagne glass upward. The rosy pink liquid slid down the flute and into my mouth.

“You’ve bought them four times already. You didn’t fuck for Julian; Jermaine did.

And put on an entire show when I told him I’d be getting an abortion.

As much as I love my son, he is supposed to be in somebody’s lab being tested for whatever bullshit science experiment deleted fetuses are used for. ”

I choked off the bubbly as I lowered the glass. Saga was a circus of her own.

“Oh my goodness,” I cackled.

Dark spots appeared on my satin gown, evidence of my clumsiness. I’d spat champagne on my garment.

“Seriously. Something has to give, Hyphen. The job is barely taking care of me. It can’t sustain Julian and me.

Not for much longer. Doing shit the right way feels–it feels like a punch to the gut.

Every payday I’m clutching my chest. After my bills are barely paid, I’m left with gas and grocery money.

“My nails are shot. My car is hanging on by a thread. I’ve been recycling the same weave for three and a half months now. I’m not expecting Jermaine to save me, friend. I’m expecting him to take care of his son. Lighten my load.”

I nodded, pushing out a weighty sigh. Saga wasn’t one to complain.

She hated the idea of bleeding onto others, so she bandaged her cuts and kept going.

However, I could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

I had witnessed the hurt behind her smile for too many months in a row.

I needed answers, so I dug deeper when Saga was only willing to maintain a surface level.

“I understand.”

“It’s frustrating.”

“I’m sure it is, Saga. And I wish I had more advice for you right now, but I don’t. What I can tell you is that change is inevitable. I’m proud of you for pivoting. The last two years have been beautiful.

“Your growth has been such a journey. So has mine, but I feel like it’s time to pivot again. In a new direction. I don’t know when or how, but I am certain the time has come.

“You’re wiser. You’re more mature. You’re a mother. You have instincts the rest of the world isn’t privy to. Your mind is more complex than ever. More beautiful than ever now. The sky is the limit, Saga. Do whatever you have to do to keep you and Julian fed. You deserve to sleep well at night.”

She nodded. Those pretty cheeks fluffed into a smile, showing off the smile she’d perfected all on her own.

Her regimes would drive a low-effort woman to the depths of hell.

Saga didn’t compromise when it came to four things: her teeth, her skin, her hair, and her creation.

Everything else in her life could go to shits, and she’d hardly bat an eye.

“I should’ve robbed that bitch instead of giving his duck-lipped ass a fucking son. Now my baby ‘round here looking like his name should be Donald.”

I shoved my right hand into the oven mitt as I propped my cell up on the counter. Saga was insufferable sometimes.

“Leave him alone. He’ll grow into them!”

“His hoe ass daddy didn’t. I don’t have much hope.”

“Some girls are into big lips. It gives character.”

“Obviously, I was, and look where that got me.”

“You’ll be fine, and so will Julian. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

She sighed again. “Mine either. It just feels like it’s taking forever to get on the other side of things.”

I removed the glass baking dish from the oven. A peek under the ventilated cover brought a smile to my face. The aroma of freshly baked catfish caressed my nostrils and teased my taste buds—fine bumps raised on my skin.

That’s going to be good.

“And look at you! Put up. Cooking dinner and shit. Waiting for your fiancé to get home. Ring cost more than half the homes in Dooley. Bitch, you’re living the fucking life.

Don’t ever come back. Ain’t shit out here but empty souls and even emptier accounts.

Keep drinking that suburban water. The filtering system got you looking and speaking differently.

Skin glowing. Smile radiant. Eyes bright. Hoe, I’m jealous.”

She was lying. Jealousy was a trait she didn’t possess.

“Liar, liar.”

“Whatever. Just stay your ass in the burbs. Dooley has absolutely nothing to offer you.”

“Dooley is home, Saga. It’ll always have my heart.”

“But nothing is here for you, so don’t bring your ass back.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“What are you cooking for that man tonight?”

It wasn’t uncommon for me to be in the kitchen with FaceTime on blast as I listened to Saga and her foolishness.

Conversations with her passed the time. It made the suburbs feel like home.

Four years ago, we were as thick as thieves.

Distance, however, had pulled us apart. I no longer lived in Channing.

I settled in Saint after a long-distance relationship with a man nearly eight hours away.

I met Zeek on a night out in Dooley. At first glance, I quickly understood a few things about the unfamiliar face.

He wasn’t a Dooley original. I knew them all by name and face.

He was swimming in money. His wealth wasn’t flashy. It was certain. His watch didn’t dance in the dark. His chains were platinum, surrounding his neck with diamonds. Not the gold chains with iced charms. His teeth were professionally installed. Each one of them was shiny and white.

I needed to get to him before the vultures fucked up the game and gave up their pussy before running his pockets.

He would be the sweetest lick I’d ever hit.

Some things took me a little longer to understand about the unfamiliar face.

This wasn’t a quick lick, though the sweetest. The ring on my finger was evident that I was in this one for the long haul. When he got down on one knee and proposed marriage, stars erupted behind my tearful eyelids.

His dick was as long as his pockets, and I’d become addicted to both. I wanted him day and night, which made work trips hard to stomach. So, when he returned, I had food and pussy waiting. He devoured both. Happily.

He was my way out of Dooley. After a year of dating, he purchased us a gorgeous seven-thousand-square-foot home. Because of his occupation, it was my name on the deeds, titles, insurance, and legal documentation.

He’d change me. Everything was different. I didn’t speak the same. I didn’t eat the same. I didn’t think the same. I didn’t act the same. I didn’t react the same. I was better in every sense of the word.

He would elevate every area of my life. There was no stone left unturned. Zeek wanted me in a better position, so he put me in one. And then, promised to give me as much time as I needed to adjust before diving into whatever my heart desired. He’d yet to break that promise.

He’d make sure I never worked another day in my life, unless I wanted that for myself.

I never strived for love. It wasn’t in my deck of cards.

I’d had enough heartbreak to understand how it could end.

Men had been nothing but thorns in my side since my first crush.

When the Y chromosome entered the equation, everything went to shits.

Men were unwell, and I’d die a lovely death on that lovely hill.

They were one of many things:

Ugly

Broke

Selfish

Clueless

Illiterate

Humorless

Jealous

DL

Emotionally unavailable

Or, all the above

Zeek was different. He had character. And, his ego wasn’t tripped at the sight of a woman or the rejection from one. He managed his emotions well. He managed mine even better. Reassurance was a language he spoke fluently, and one the deepest parts of me needed.

With him, I felt safe. My vulnerability was at its peak. I was puddy in his presence. A doll. A princess. A version of me I didn’t know existed until he revealed her.

“Baked catfish, mac, and fried cabbage.”

“Send me a plate through the mail, chile. These hoes been telling me I’m losing weight.

Stress hoe! Stress. Niggas not handling their business, and bitches always in mine.

Next bitch mention anything about a weight loss like my baby didn’t put eighty pounds on me, I’m hitting her in her shit.

I’m not losing weight. I’m getting back fine, big back. ”

Chuckling, I headed toward the dining table.

Though set for four, only two people would be dining.

I straightened the napkins and dinnerware.

Burgundy glasses lined the table. Matching bowls, plates, and water cups accompanied them.

Cream placemats promised to catch anything that fell from our forks.

An embroidered runner protected the table.

The Hendersons

The fine details were my obsession. In thirty short days, Zeek and I would be eloping on a beautiful island with sand between our toes. He’d chosen Italy, Cala Brandinchi specifically.

On the catamaran, surrounded by clear water, we shared our first kiss as a couple. It would also be where we shared our first kiss as husband and wife. I was brimming with excitement. I’d never imagined this girl from Dooley would be living the life Zeek offered.