The Brooklyn Way

Prologue

T hen

Brooklyn

I loved Target. A well-lit, clean, nicely appointed, and fully stocked Target store was my happy place. I loved Target best either first thing in the morning or late at night, when the crowd was at a minimum. That way I could take my time and stroll down every aisle without having to wait my turn—when I could pick things up and place them back down without a care in the world.

That was why I was here—at my local Target, twenty-five minutes before they closed for the day. I was meandering through the Joanna Gaines, Hearth & Hand with Magnolia section. I needed to… get happy.

As I thought about it, it dawned on me that I hadn’t been genuinely happy for a minute. Lately, my life had been… unsatisfactory.

Wretched.

Not great.

Actually, it wasn’t just lately that my life had been terrible. It had been terrible for at least a few years.

I wanted something different, something… satisfying. Something… fulfilling.

Suddenly, a thought dropped into my spirit.

I want this life.

Surrounded by simple, classic staples—dishes created for entertaining, cotton kitchen towels, textured potholders, faux stems, wooden napkin ring holders and smoked vases… I could envision a good life.

A peaceful life.

A… social life.

A life filled with friends and family, who would come to my backyard to eat things freshly prepared by me.

A life very different from the one I was currently living and hating.

I sighed aloud to myself as I fingered a plaid tablecloth.

I didn’t really want Joanna Gaines’s life. I didn’t want to be married to Chip. What I wanted was to live the real-life version of the life her collection at Target portrayed.

I wanted my days to be easy and filled with preparation of the menu for a lively game night. I wanted to prepare festive tailgates for football games on warm, balmy Friday nights or brisk and cool Saturday afternoons. I wanted evenings where I served light, crisp fare to the ladies in my book club.

What I wanted was 180 degrees away from what I was living.

I wanted the warm weather of the deep South, but I was living in the Midwest.

I wanted adventure, but each day brought more of the same mundane routine that kept me bored out of my skull.

What I wouldn’t give to have a spirited, pizzazzy social life, instead of the relatively lonely existence where I kept to myself and didn’t have any real friends or even associates close by.

I wanted good, razzle-dazzle filled sex and a partnership with a handsome, good smelling, well-built, financially responsible man. What I had was the remnants of a fizzled relationship… a relationship that had run its course and left its fair share of personal destruction in its wake.

While I was contemplating my fantasy life, two rambunctious, blonde-haired boys came barreling onto my patio, snapping me out of my reverie. Actually, they came bursting into the Hearth & Hand section, followed by their mother, effectively breaking the spell cast by Joanna Gaines and her magical collection at Target.

I looked down at my watch as the disembodied voice announced from the overhead speakers that Target would be closing in five minutes and guests needed to bring their final purchases to the registers. I didn’t have any more time to linger, dream and/or wish. I needed to go to the hellhole that I currently called home.

I didn’t drink often, but when I did, I made sure it counted. I sipped a pricey wine that had been recommended to me by a snooty sommelier at the Wine Boutique . Even though I had been in Target for almost an hour, I didn’t get my wine from there. I needed something more than what their selection could offer me. So, I went to the Wine Boutique , where the bottles were imported and cost more than I should probably have spent. But I needed it.

I needed a bottle of wine that would take me there. Actually, I needed to smoke, but I’d given that up after college, so wine would have to suffice.

“I hate my life,” I moaned to my former college roommate and friend, Carrington Field, as I sat at the island in my kitchen wearing my ivory-colored fluffy robe, matching slippers, and hair bonnet. In my hand was a half-full glass of a deliciously sweet white wine. “I hate it so much.”

“You hate your life, boo?” she questioned.

I made indecipherable noises with my mouth. The truth of the matter was that the term “hate” was a little strong for what I actually felt. But it was easier to express to my friend that I hated my life than it was to admit to her that I was indifferent about it. There was nothing to hate… or to love for that matter. Everything was blah! Everything was what it was. I was existing.

As the clock ushered in each new day, I arose and lived the new day the exact same way that I lived the one before it, just doing what I needed to do to get through it. Indulging in copious amounts of comfort food—chips, cookies, mashed potatoes, fried chicken, and coleslaw along with copious visits to Target… Those were my coping strategies.

“Have you been sewing at all?”

Thinking back to the life I used to live, I smiled. I used to sew. Actually, I used to be a highly sought-after famous social media dress designer. I had made countless dresses for fellow influencers—dresses for birthday bashes, anniversary parties, baby showers, galas, bridal showers… I’d even made custom wedding gowns. Sewing and creating event-worthy dresses had been my passion. Never had I foreseen the day when sewing wouldn’t be a huge part of my life, but the joke was on me. My sewing machines were gathering dust in my storage unit.

I admitted the truth with reluctance. “No.”

I heard her suck her teeth. “Why, friend? Why are you letting his bitch ass and that backstabbing cum bucket steal your passion? You’re probably hating your life because you aren’t doing what God so obviously put you here to do.”

The bitch ass and the cum bucket that Carrington was referring to were my ex and the chick he left me for—a fashion influencer, Kelly Callow, who went by the name of Dressed to Kell . She hired me to make a dress for her thirtieth birthday soiree. The dress was complicated and had to be constructed in three distinct pieces, which required several visits to my apartment for fittings and try-ons. Kelly was local, so the visits weren’t difficult for her to navigate. Little did I know that she was also navigating herself right onto my man’s dick.

I never suspected anything. Kelly was loud, boisterous, and completely over-the-top. She based her social media presence on fashion that she wore to clubs and industry events. She favored revealing, scanty clothing pieces that left very little to the imagination. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Kelly’s persona or her style of dress. I was only confused about their pairing because Vince (my ex) was a nerdy, introverted doctor who prided himself on his conservatism. Kelly was pretty and sexy. I wasn’t surprised that Vince was interested. What confused me was her interest in him.

I was shocked when Vince admitted to me that he was falling out of love with me and falling into it with Kelly. My heart literally ached when he said he planned to explore where things could go between them. Of course, I was blindsided and devastated. I mean, I loved Vince and thought we had a solid and stable relationship. We’d been together for over ten years. Still, as much as his decision hurt, I wasn’t in the business of keeping no niggas that didn’t want to be kept. Instead, I waited for him to talk to me about how we would work through the transition of moving out of each other’s lives. The asshole then proceeded to steal all the wind out of my sails by deciding not to move out of the two-bedroom apartment that we shared.

“How is that supposed to work, Vince?” I’d asked with indignation, as I paced back and forth in front of the television in our living room. “Do you really expect me to live here, splitting the bills while you… frolic up and through here with your… little friend ?”

He’d scoffed at my use of the term “little friend,” but I hadn’t cared.

“Look,” he’d told me from where he chilled unbothered on the sofa that I had purchased. “Kelly doesn’t like you. She doesn’t want to come here. So, no, we won’t be spending any time here… unless she changes her mind. Then, we will be spending time here… and you’ll have to deal with it.”

All I heard from his entire dialogue was “Kelly doesn’t like you.”

The same Kelly who had found me through social media and hired me to create her birthday gown? Why wouldn’t she like me? It wasn’t like I was the one sneaking around sleeping with her man… that was her. She was the slide. I was the girlfriend… the live-in girlfriend. If anything, I shouldn’t have liked her, and she shouldn’t have had an opinion—like, at all.

“She doesn’t like me?” I couldn’t help questioning.

Vince had the audacity to look sheepish, before replying, “Uhm, she knows this is politically incorrect, but she doesn’t like fat people. They give her the creeps.”

If he’d meant for that comment to be a gut-punch, he’d succeeded.

It was a fact that I’d put on weight since Vince and I had paired up in college. I’d gotten thicker and heavier and if I was honest with myself… rounder.

I knew that. Life and stress, as well as stress and life, had contributed to the extra pounds and rolls. But Vince had never mentioned it before. He’d never said anything about me getting bigger. He’d never acted repulsed by me or even aware that I’d gained weight. Now, thanks to his new woman, I was “fat.”

Since I was speechless, Vince decided to keep talking.

“There are eight months left on this lease,” he’d continued, standing to his full five feet ten or eleven inches. “When it’s up, Kelly and I plan to move in together. Until then… I’ll keep living here. When I move out, you can keep the apartment, or… whatever.”

Because I still couldn’t speak, he’d simply turned and walked away.

So, there I was, having to not only live with my ex, with a front row seat to his life with the woman he’d left me for, but I also got the unwanted encore of having to see them coupled-up anytime her social media posts came down my timeline.

I whined my friend’s name because the last thing I wanted to talk about was Vince or my homelife situation. “Carrington.”

“Brooklyn.”

I heaved out a long sigh.

“Look, I’m getting married. You know this. You were there when Bryce popped the question. So, I don’t know what you think is happening here, but you are making my wedding dress.”

“You’re wearing your mother’s wedding dress. The same wedding dress that your grandmother wore. Don’t try to do me, Carri.”

“Do you not realize that that dress is going to need alterations? You think I’m trying to be out here looking like the 1990s? My mother had it altered from how my grandmother wore it in the ’70s, so she’s fully on board with me giving it a little 2020’s flavor. You’ll need to input the flavor, Brook. So, I suggest that you hot foot it on over to Joann’s to pick up some practice fabric, then pull your sewing machines from wherever you’ve been storing them, and get your swag back. Because I expect you to do a good job, and you’ll need to start soon. The wedding is in…” she did her mental calculations, “…ten months. Get your mind right, homey.”

“I don’t even know if I still know how to sew,” I lied. I hadn’t done it in a minute, but I knew that I still had my skills.

“Cap. You always were a terrible liar.”

I groaned in annoyance. “I need to figure out how to feel alive again. I feel dead on the inside. My joy is dead. My happiness is dead. And all you care about…”

My rant was interrupted by the sound of Vince’s keys in the door. I stood from the island to begin making my way to my bedroom.

I would never admit it to anyone, but ever since Vince had taken up with his little friend, I lived like a prisoner in the home where I paid half of the bills. I spent 95 percent of my time holed up in my bedroom. After the breakup, I claimed the master bedroom. Since it came with an adjoining bathroom, I was able to meet most of my needs without leaving my sanctuary. The only other room in the apartment that I occasionally used was the kitchen. And I always tried to do that when Vince wasn’t home.

I didn’t want to have to see him, and for some strange reason, I didn’t like for him to have to see me. I did everything in my power to avoid him—staying in my bedroom when I was at home, setting my life up so that our schedules were staggered, only speaking to him via text message.

“Ay, Brooklyn, before you go hide in your cave for the rest of the night,” he called out, effectively ceasing my almost seamless getaway, “I want to talk to you!”

I continued to make my way to my bedroom. “Text me!” I yelled back.

“This is stupid as hell,” he said, and before I knew it, the both of us were just outside of my safe haven. “We need to talk.”

“Well, my bedroom is my sanctuary. We’re not talking in there,” I informed him.

He scoffed before chuckling to himself. “I’m not interested in doing anything in your bedroom, bro.”

My eyes rolled of their own volition. “I’ll meet you in the living room in a minute.” I waited for him to walk away before opening my bedroom door and entering.

“You let him talk to you like that?” Carrington queried through the phone.

I had forgotten she was there. “Forget him.” I slipped out of my robe and stomped over to my dresser. I pulled out a T-shirt and baggy joggers, throwing them on quickly. “I don’t care what he says. It’s just words.”

“They’re not just words, Brookie. Words have power. Words cut.” She sucked her teeth. “Acting like he wasn’t running around here with his nose permanently stuck between your thighs now that he’s fucking this Instagram ho. You know I never liked him. He’d better not make me catch a flight. Don’t make me catch a flight!” she yelled into the phone, causing me to giggle.

“You do know that he’s in the living room and I’m in my bedroom, right? He can’t hear you.”

“Have you been apartment hunting?”

“No,” I admitted, quickly tacking on, “I don’t have to. The lease is up in four weeks. He’s been bringing home boxes almost every day. He’s moving in with Kelly .” I spat her name. “This apartment will be all mine. I’ll be able to spread out into every space.”

“Why would you want to keep an apartment in a town you hate? Girl, when that lease is up, chuck the deuces to Londynville, Kentucky, and that apartment and move back home… or move down here with me. You would love Jackson Island. It’s warm. It’s on the ocean. The pace is slower. The quality of life here is giving… everything.”

“It also has hurricanes and super-sized bugs. Don’t think I’ve forgotten those fist-sized grasshoppers from the last time I visited.”

“Bryce and I close on our new house next week. You can come here and move right into my old place.”

“Isn’t your old place the little guest bungalow on your brother’s property?”

“It is, but it’s nice. You know I wouldn’t make my home in some run-down shed. It’s a guest house , emphasis on the word house .” She was exasperated with me. I could tell by her tone. “Look, I’mma get it ready for you, because you cannot stay in your current situation. Ain’t no way.”

“I’m not staying in this situation. I told you the lease is up in four weeks. One more month and things will start turning around… hopefully. Love you! I’ll call you back.”

I walked into the living room like I was walking the green mile. Vince had stopped speaking to me months ago. While I was busy avoiding him, it wasn’t like he was seeking me out. He took my absence in the common areas of our apartment in complete stride. I figured if he was requesting a conversation, something was up.

“Yes?” I asked, as I came to a stop on the side of the sofa.

Ever since our breakup and subsequent transition from life partners to roommates, I’d been awkward around Vince. In my former breakups, the two of us went our separate ways to heal or what have you. That was healthy and normal. It was not healthy to have to keep seeing, hearing, and smelling the person you were trying to get over and move past, particularly when they had gotten over you and moved past you very swiftly. I didn’t know how to be —how to act around him, which made me self-conscious, which made me awkward. I hated it.

“You should sit down.” He gestured to the sofa, which momentarily pissed me off because I bought the damn sofa. Who was he to offer me a seat on a sofa that I’d purchased?

“I don’t want to be here long enough to sit down. I want you to say whatever it is that you have to say so I can go back to my room.”

He rolled his eyes. “Cool. Kelly isn’t quite ready for us to live together yet. You know she’s the mother of two young children. She had to speak to her ex about me moving in. It was only right because he is their dad.”

I wondered if he was trying to convince me or himself that it was okay that his new woman consulted her ex about the next steps of their relationship.

“But you’ve been getting all of those boxes for packing.” My comment sounded stupid, even to my own ears, but I was confused and so thoroughly disappointed.

“Yeah, I know. Her ex feels like it’s too soon. He doesn’t want the kids to be confused—”

I didn’t mean to comment. I really didn’t. I meant to think my thoughts in the privacy of my own mind, but apparently, my mouth didn’t get the memo. I said exactly what popped into my head. “And the kids aren’t confused about the fact that the ex-husband sleeps there, with her, every night… while you sleep… here?”

He gave me a murderous glare, and I vowed to keep any other thoughts about their relationship to myself. I didn’t know Vince. I used to know him. And when I knew him, he wasn’t the type of guy who would throw me to the side for some chick who was obviously stringing him along while she still played house with her ex-husband.

This new Vince was different. He was on something totally different than the Vince I knew. This Vince might buck up and choke me or beat my ass for putting doubt in his mind about where he stood with his woman. And as I’d already established, I didn’t really know anyone in town. My grandparents lived over two hours away. If Vince got loose and killed me, who would know? I vowed to shut up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Please, continue.”

“Don’t speak on my relationship, bro. You don’t know shit about it.” The angry glare remained plastered to his otherwise handsome features.

“You’re right.” I agreed, wishing that I had kept my thoughts to myself.

“Anyway, because of that, when the lease is up… I won’t be moving out as planned. I’ll be renewing it on a month-by-month basis.”

“So, you’ll keep living here? With me? As roommates?” I clarified.

“Or you can move out.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just giving you the respect to let you know what’s up. You thought you were about to have a bachelorette pad, but you’re not. This will still be my place of residence.”

There were so many things that I wanted to say. So many protests raging in my mind. So many rebuttals. But the look on Vince’s face, the glint in his eyes caused me to keep my displeasure to myself.

I allowed one utterance and one utterance only to slip from my lips as I turned on my heel and walked back to my bedroom. “Uhm.”

I hate it here!