Chapter 2
He sent me flowers this time.
As I was opening the front doors to the shop after lifting the security gate, I was met by a floral courier holding a large arrangement of pastel roses. Light orange, pale pink, and lavender roses were jutting out of the glittery rose-gold vase he was holding in his hands.
I didn’t need to read the card sticking out of the bloom of flowers to know who’d sent them.
Corey. He always knew when to go all out.
I accepted the flowers and unlocked the front door to Shéc and let myself in. I went and set them on the checkout counter, the perfect piece for our white lacquer stand.
To distract myself, I turned on our speaker system and gathered my phone, going and hitting the R&B genre on my music app and shuffling the contents. It was just my luck Alicia Keys came on. “Fallin’.”
It was after nine a.m., but we weren’t open yet, leaving me the only person inside this Monday morning. It was the end of June. A new shipment was coming in an hour for our summer arrivals. I had to get my head in the game.
The shop was half mine. I co-owned it with my best friend from high school, Paisley Parker. Together we called our fashion boutique Shéc—pronounced chic. It was ours, due to an investment from Paisley’s parents.
When I’d dropped out of college, my parents had been majorly disappointed with me.
Paisley took a semester off to figure out her own goals, but her parents had been gentler with her.
I’d never held any true interests or talent, unlike Pay’s knack for radio and buzzing personality, but if there was one affinity I had, it was clothes.
My peers in my college classrooms would roll in wearing sweats and hoodies, and I’d be sporting my latest ensemble.
Fashion was my passion, and when Paisley came up with the idea of using my gift for clothes as a business, I was hesitant, but all in.
We didn’t have any employees, but we made it work running the shop as a duo six days a week.
We were nearing our third anniversary, and things were finally settling into routine and place.
Belmont, Georgia was just over a half hour away from Atlanta, where everyone went to kick it and hang out.
A lot of local women hit our shop to find affordable outfits to wear into the city.
We were located in a busy strip mall, the perfect place for shopping on a lunchbreak.
When I’d dropped out of school after my sophomore year, everything was a mess for me. No matter how many 11:11s I wished on, nothing good ever came. Co-owning Shéc was a step in the right direction.
My eyes trailed pitifully to Corey Reece’s roses, and I couldn’t help but think about what it all meant. He wanted me back.
I looked around my empty storefront, and Alicia was still mocking me.
Corey was complicated. To the ignorant, the roses were a romantic expression. In reality, they were an attempt at a Band-Aid. We hadn’t spoken all year, the longest between our hiatuses. A part of me loved to think that I’d finally gotten over him, finally moved on and realized my worth.
If only it were that simple.
Corey was my on-again/off-again ex-boyfriend. We’d dated for almost three years. I could describe our relationship in one word: Toxic.
To put it plainly, I was a fool for Corey.
He used to cheat on me and win me back with the prettiest lies.
I knew he was no good for me, but like an addictive substance, I went back.
I pretended to ignore the signs he was up to no good staying out late with his boys.
I pretended it was normal he had two phones and would never let me touch either.
I pretended not to smell the perfume on his clothes whenever I’d collect his laundry off the floor.
At his worst, he messed around and had a baby on me—yes, a baby.
Like an idiot, I believed him when he spoke of his baby momma putting something in his drink and taking advantage of him, completely forgetting it took two to tangle.
I was gone over that man, and he had me walking around for two-plus years stuck on stupid.
Paisley said it was the D, and sadly, it wasn’t even that, it was the L, aka Love.
When Corey looked me in the eyes and told me he loved me, I felt special, wanted, and important.
Just for a moment before he went and messed up again.
His child’s mother once came to my shop and browsed around with her friend, practically bragging about the expensive bag Corey bought for her and how he was still slingin’ it her way.
Paisley held me while I cried, but she wasn’t shy from scolding me and calling me out on my weakness over Corey.
Paisley always kept it a hundred with me, no matter what, because I was too damn old to be coddled and lied to for the sake of feelings. Something Corey stepped on repeatedly.
Late at night when I stayed over at his place, Corey would hold me and tell me I was his girl and no one else’s, and that no one was allowed to have me but him. Those words used to get to me, making me feel like I was his possession, and for a while that was enough.
But he was never my possession. As Paisley loved putting it, Corey was no more than community dick with a handsome smile and a roll of cash.
Foolish was stained on my chest like a scarlet letter.
And now he was back for round five.
The last time we broke up, I was a mess. I let myself go, I ate poorly, I gained weight, I got acne, and I had frequent migraines.
The mere thought of actually seeing Corey in person after so long was triggering, causing me to hug myself.
The only reprieve for the day was the sudden memory of there being a cookie in my purse.
Some little girl had offered me one from her pack of cookies she’d gotten from the nearby grocery store a few shops up from us.
One look at those dimples in her dark brown cheeks and the colorful array of barrettes and beads in her hair had me all too ready to accept her kind gesture.
I grabbed my bag from behind the counter and dug into the side pouch for the wax-paper wrapped cookie.
They had been kitchen sink cookies: peanut butter cookie with chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, white chocolate chips, pretzels, and coconut. A literal sin. One bite into the moist treat had me tempted to go and grab a whole pack.
But no, Corey would not drive me to stress eat ever again.
As if to cosmically save me from myself, the shop bell went off and Paisley came breezing in. I loved her ’fit, a light-blue denim button-down tied into a knot at the side, and leopard print pants.
“You look good. I swear there’s someone up at that radio station you’re showing out for,” I teased.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she hosted her own early morning radio show that broadcasted throughout Belmont and nearby cities.
Her show was popular, creating another lane for customers for Shéc.
They loved Pay’s personality and takes, and they loved the clothing lines we offered and the way I styled our glossy black mannequins.
Paisley smirked. “Get real, I’m just as shallow as you, but I’m also charitable. Looking good is my way of giving back to the world.”
“Someone give her a Carnegie Medal,” I deadpanned.
Paisley flipped some locks of her long chocolate brown hair over her shoulder as she came over to the counter. She’d recently gotten caramel highlights that really brought out the bronze in her brown complexion.
One good look at me and Paisley’s shoulders caved and her face fell. “What?”
I ducked my head, trying to hide behind my massive curls. Paisley wasn’t having it as she reached out and tucked some of my hair behind my ear, studying me intently. “Nothing.”
“Nas.”
I gave in. “Corey sent me flowers.”
Gone was her sympathy, quickly replaced with repulsion. “Ugh. Cancelled. Next.”
One thing about Paisley, she didn’t bullshit, she told it like it was.
I was the soft kitten to her tough porcupine.
We were like night and day: I was gray and she was black and white, she was blunt and I was gentle, I was a reluctant yes and she was a bold hell no, and she knew when to let people go with the quickness while I was too ready to take an apology.
Paisley went and set her purse behind the counter next to mine. She wrinkled her nose at the sound of Michael Jackson’s “She’s Out of My Life.” How fitting. She faced me, gesturing to the bouquet. “So why didn’t you toss them in the dumpster out back?”
I should’ve. “I…I don’t know.”
She shook her head. “You make it way too easy for him.”
“It’s not like I’m on the phone with him right now,” I argued.
And it wasn’t like I was considering hearing him out this time.
Not only did our last breakup wreck me, but it had been vicious—he had been vicious.
He’d said some things you just couldn’t take back.
He called me out of my name. Pulled back bandages to expose old wounds so I could bleed out.
He’d showed me another side of him this time. And I couldn’t forget that. Ever.
Paisley fixed me with a cold look. “I’m just waiting for the day homeboy asks you to babysit that kid of his and you do it.”
I frowned. “Not that I would do that, but his baby is innocent in this.”
Paisley shrugged indifferently. “So? So were you once upon a time, but Corey straight up did not care, so like him, I don’t care about him, his son, or his crazy-ass BM. All I care about is you, Nas.”
Talk about harsh loyalty.
She held up a finger as she marched over to the front door. “He thinks he can weasel his way back in because he knows you so well.”
She slipped outside to gather the mail and I hung back, curious to see where she was going with her latest diatribe.
“What do you mean?” I asked as she came back inside.
“I mean, he hasn’t been around you in almost a year, but he knows you’re single.”
I was single, but I wasn’t waiting for Corey. “So?”
“See, this is why you should post more on your socials,” Paisley chastised me as she so often did. “If you were online, socially active, then Corey could see you’re doing fine without him.”
“So, I should live my life to make other people have an idea of me?” I questioned.
“You should live your life period, Nas,” Paisley shot back.
“You need to get out there and just do you, because he’s damn sure doing him.
I love you to death, but girl, the ship has sailed, crashed, got stuck in the damn mud at the bottom of the sea, and is never going to rise again. Let that shit go.”
The problem with social media was the too tempting lure to overshare.
Really, after my second breakup with Corey, I realized it was all useless.
It was all just a battle of who could make the most superficial post first. A war of who could accumulate the most likes and retweets.
After swearing off Twitter and all its bullshit, Facebook and its archaic vibe, there was Instagram, where I didn’t post much and I didn’t follow many either.
I kinda had this belief system that people who were actually happy and living their lives, weren’t spending every five minutes updating their feeds.
When Beyoncé went on vacation, she just went—of course, we all couldn’t be Bey, but that was beyond the point.
I wasn’t really living my life, and so there was nothing to share. I mean, how many times could I post a photo of my cat before someone clicked the unfollow button?
Besides, I would not be ruled by validation from online users I’d never meet in real life.
One thing was certain: I was dealing, if barely.
For so long I’d been doing fine, and here was Corey and his damn flowers, popping up and soiling my Monday.
“How’s Scorsese?” Paisley asked, bringing up my three-year-old cat and letting my ex go.
Whoever said cats were assholes lied. I’d never wanted a cat, especially not after growing up with dogs.
But one fateful afternoon I discovered a nest of kittens near the side of my house.
I left them alone, thinking their mom was nearby, but that evening it stormed hard and bad, and my gut feeling was to check on them.
Of the three tiny guys, only one lone black kitten remained, shivering in the ditch by the side of the house.
They said black cats equaled bad luck, and it was just his misfortune his siblings and mother abandoned him on that rainy night.
Needless to say, I took him in with the intention of finding a shelter—of course it never happened.
That day he became Scorsese Graham, my little bundle of joy.
I perked up just a little. “The usual: spoiled, clingy, and loved.”
“One of these days I’m going to go over there and he’s going to love on me instead of keeping his distance.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m the only woman he needs in his life.”
Paisley rolled her eyes. “Okay, Catwoman.”
I wrinkled my nose at the moniker. It was one cat I had a motherly bond with. “I’m all he really knows since I live alone. He never even liked Corey.”
Paisley smirked. “Cats usually have a sixth sense for assholes.”
Ah. The queen of quips won again. “I walked right into that one.”
“Some may say you skipped.” She smiled as she sifted through our mail. We were in our third quarter of the year. Our numbers were good, and we would be fine. Shéc was almost a safe success.
“How’s Alannah doing?” Paisley asked me next as she read over some glossy flyer.
Just like that, that black cloud slid right back over my head at the mention of my younger sister’s name.
Alannah was making our parents proud as she excelled in med school, well on the path to becoming our family’s first physician.
In our parents’ eyes, I dropped the ball and was a huge disappointment.
Alannah chased her dreams, and I chased boys.
Look at me now, Ma, didn’t turn out so well. You were right!
“Perfect,” I said softly as I plucked a stray piece of thread from my cargo bottoms.
Paisley set the mail aside and peered out the front windows, eyeing the sunny day just beginning before us. “We should go out soon. Get some Thai, get some beer, get some men. And not in that order.”
Thai food and beer sounded heavenly. The rest? Not so much.
“Pay,” I sighed.
She groaned. “You are a buzzkill.”
I ran a hand down my face, trying and failing to wipe away my frown. God, why was I so jaded?
I chewed on my lip, tired of being so down. I needed to hit the gym. That was the only thing that kept me going these days. I craved those endorphins and euphoric feeling I got during a good workout. Well, that, and Scorsese, Paisley, and Shéc were my oasis.
Bobby Womack was belting out his “If You Think You’re Lonely Now” from my phone, really twisting the knife in my chest.
One more look at those stunning flowers and I had my mind all made up. For my lunchbreak, I was hitting the gym.