#teasertuesday : let me in...

Hi friends! Figured I’d hit y’all with a lil #teasertuesday action on today! Release date is still TBD, but just know it’s a-comin’! Enjoy!

I didn’t need him for backup, but I definitely wasn’t just going to leave him in a very nice car in this unfamiliar neighborhood by himself. Who knows what would happen if a trigger happy cop on patrol just happened to breeze through? An extreme thought, but I preferred to be safe rather than sorry when I had the opportunity to control the narrative. I walked up and saw an ornately carved lion head knocker decorating the door. I used it, knocking three times before I stepped back with hands in my pockets as we waited for her to answer the door. A few moments passed with no indication that she was coming to answer the door. I stepped off the small porch that was in front of her house to peer into the front window. There were slivers of light coming through her blinds, so I assumed she was home and walked back over to the door. This time I noticed a doorbell that I’d missed the first time and pressed that instead of using the knocker again.

“Say, maybe we shoulda called first?” Pharris mused.

“Perhaps, but we were already in rotation, so I mean…” I trailed off, when the door finally opened and Jayde peered from behind the massive teal door.

Her eyes were narrowed in confusion that quickly turned to recognition as she looked me directly in the eyes and stepped from behind the shelter of the door. Despite being completely sleep rumpled, she was still bad as hell in a tank top and itty bitty shorts that showed off her dope ass frame.

“Can I help you?” she asked, leaning against the door, annoyance clear on her face.

“Hey…I was…we were wondering if you had a few spare minutes. To discuss some business?” I said, gesturing to Pharris who’d backed a little off the porch once Jayde appeared.

“How did you even know where…I am going to kill Ny,” she gritted out before addressing me again, “I thought you said that whatever business you had with me before was dead now. What was it you said…my overinflated ego had you fucked up? Or something to that measure? Nah, I’m good Nikolas. Y’all have a good night,” Jayde said before stepping back and closing the door to her home.

“Jayde, please. Give me five minutes, that’s all I ask. I think this could end up being mutually beneficial to us both if you’ll just hear me out. I…admit that I didn’t exactly handle my approach in the right way when I first thought of you for this opportunity, I’ll own that. But…if you think I’m about to get on bended knee and ask you to work for…no…with me, then you’ve got another thing coming. I think your talent is rare—top notch, bar none—but I’m not exactly the type of man who will grovel over a simple misunderstanding. Now, with that being said, can we bug you for no more than five minutes or nah?”

“I’m not exactly dressed for company,” she said.

I chuckled, “We’ll give you a few minutes to make yourself presentable, so long as it doesn’t cut into my promised time. C’mon…I can see it in your eyes that you’re intrigued by what would bring me all the way over here to bother you tonight? I actually went to the Shamrock first…but clearly you weren’t there, so I had to use other means. By the way, you all right?”

Looking at Jayde a bit more closely, her eyes were reddened and a little puffy, not completely due to being asleep before we arrived unannounced. Her nose was also pretty red as well and she’d rubbed it a couple times while I was giving my little speech.

“Allergies,” she groaned, “been kicking my ass all week and today I finally let them win. Thanks…for asking.”

“You’re welcome. So…you gonna let us in or nah? It’s a little breezy out here,” I joked, giving Jayde the same smile I’d laid on her homegirl earlier.

Only this time I received the desired response, even if only for a split second. Jayde quickly schooled her features into a mask of nonchalance, but for a moment a faint blush of red covered her cheeks as she bit down on her lower lip. Wordlessly, she unlocked the storm door, and then backed into her townhome waving us through the entrance.

“Well I’ll be damned. That shit really worked,” Pharris muttered under his breath, following me into Jayde’s place.

#samplesunday: an awkward double date

You know the deal, this work is in progress so it’s unedited and subject to change.

My boy Langston and his new girl Nyema were in town for this game tonight. They were supposed to be meeting for dinner at my loft tonight—with one of his girl’s friends. I wasn’t really in the mood for entertaining tonight, but I knew that if I cancelled on them, I would just be sitting around watching all of the coverage of our loss on ESPN and obsessing. I had plenty of time to do that shit, but not as much time to hang out with one of my best friends from childhood since I didn’t get back home that often.

Plus, I’d gotten to meet Nyema’s homegirl briefly before the game and shorty was bad. Couldnta been no more than about five one, five two—brown skinned, thick as hell, hair in long silky waves down to her ass. And that ass…I hadn’t gotten to properly check it out in its entirety, but from the glimpse I’d been given pre-game. Shit, I could definitely use the distraction of a pretty ass woman and catching up with my guy after this shitshow of a game. I showered and made my way to the press room, catching up with Kage as he was walking in as well. We were both pretty shocked to walk into a room that greeted us with an ovation, thunderous applause that we gladly welcomed—voicing our thanks before we both sat at the podium. That was exactly the energy we needed, our hometown press embracing us and the ones there for national coverage were asked questions that were thoughtful, respectful, and more importantly didn’t seek to goad us into any negative reactions. Kage kept them in stitches with his signature quips and I filled in the gaps when questions were asked of me directly, but I didn’t have too much energy for the shit overall and was extra excited when Mark indicated to a reporter to ask the last question of the night.

“Niko, we know that you’re a free agent this summer. Any plans of moving beyond the Trojans and ring chasing next year?” the last reporter, Brian Jacobs, asked.

I took a deep breath before responding. I hated this dude. He always came out of nowhere with some left field shit and tried to play the innocent when someone called him on it.

Before I could get a word out, Kage piped up, “That’s really how you choosing to serve the Lord right now, bruh?”

The entire room, including me, burst out into laughter. Brian’s idiotic attempt at baiting me into giving a stupid soundbite completely forgotten as Kage went on and on about how he needed to be a better person and looking within for whatever made him such a lame ass. I was too damned weak to even think about formulating a reply, thankful for Kage’s humor and quick wit deflecting from what could have been a terrible moment. Mark thanked everyone for their time, dismissed us and we headed out of the room.

“Kage!” I called out.

He was a bit ahead of me and turned around with his signature smirk, “It was nothin’, fam. But uh…I got somewhere I’m tryna be right now, so we’ll have to save this Sister Sister bonding moment you tryna have for another time.”

I just laughed and waved him off, letting him get to whatever was so important. I needed to be getting home anyway to make sure everything was in order for tonight’s festivities. When I invited Langston and his girl down, I definitely thought we’d be getting together under very different circumstances, not a season ending loss. I thought about calling my assistant and having him nix the champagne that was set to be served with dinner but forget it. This season was still one worth celebrating, even if the outcome wasn’t what I’d hoped or expected.

By the time I got home, my assistant Pharris was on his way out of my place.

“Sup Nik,” he greeted as we passed each other in the hall.

“You got it, bruh,” I said in reply, “You sure you don’t wanna stick around?”

Pharris was more than my assistant after working together all of these years. After Langston, I’d probably consider him to be one of my closest friends. He was the nephew of my undergrad coach, a sort of fuck up that Coach was helping guide through life. Luckily, he ended up being the perfect fit as assistant. The flexibility of the job worked well with his temperament and his organizational skills were out of this world. He kept my life running smoothly as hell; a well-oiled machine.

Even though I was cool with Langston inviting his girl’s friend, I didn’t want this shit to seem like an awkward double date. I’d been in one of these setups too many times before and the mess always ended up awkward as hell. Pharris sticking around would kill that vibe, in a good way though.

Pharris shook his head, “Nope, got a hot date tonight, boss man. Ain’t no fifth wheeling and playing interference for you tonight.”

As usual, Pharris saw right through me.

“Besides, I saw ol’ girl earlier, she looks like a perfect distraction, g.”

“She was bad as hell, wasn’t she?” I mused.

“Yessir. Enjoy that,” Pharris laughed, touching his hand to his forehead in a two fingered salute before turning and walking toward the elevator.

I stepped into my condo and it smelled damn amazing in here. I gave no instruction for tonight’s meal, so I headed straight into the kitchen to see what we’d be dining on tonight. The chef grilled some steaks, shrimp, scallops, and lobster tails. To accompany that was grilled asparagus, mushrooms with garlic in a butter sauce, baked sweet potatoes, and a spring mix salad with a raspberry vinaigrette.

Against my better judgement I sat down and turned on the tv while I waited for my guests to arrive. Of course, I ended up on ESPN where they were rehashing the game I’d played in, the commentators examining all of my team’s mistakes and insisting that our first-round win was just a streak of luck. I quickly changed the channel, landing on BET showing Baby Boy once again. I fell into that, trying to get my mind off of the bullshit of the ESPN commentary so I wouldn’t be in a messed up mood when everyone pulled up. I laughed at Jody and Yvette’s antics…and thanked my lucky stars that I’d dodged my own version of a Yvette way back in the day. The concierge called up to let me know that my guests had arrived, and I went to open the door to let them in since he’d already directed them onto the elevator.

When I opened the door, however, there was only one guest there, Nyema’s fine ass homegirl.

“Jayde, right?” I said in greeting.

“That’s me. Nikolas, right?” she parroted back, stepping past me into my place, “Your boy and my girl are running behind. I got a text from Ny while I was in my Lyft. I’m almost certain that when they show up, DJ Nyla will have that freshly fucked glow that she greeted me with earlier at lunch.”

I laughed at her candor, following her deeper into my place where she settled onto the couch.

“I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home, immediately,” she said, her eyes darting around the space, appraising everything she saw, “I tend to do that.”

“You’re good, sweetheart,” I replied.

“This is a nice place. I love this building so much. My friend stays down on the third floor and every time I come over to his place I want to stay forever. Your floor plan looks a bit different than his though. Definitely bigger.”

“What’s your friend’s name? I might know him,” I said.

“You probably don’t. He’s a weird ass reclusive songwriter dude. Doesn’t even make eye contact with strangers…even ones as well-known as you,” Jayde smiled, “But his name is Edward Kane.”

“Can’t nobody sang like Eddie Kang,” I said, without thinking. Her friend’s name was too close to a character in one of my favorite films, The Five Heartbeats.

Jayde erupted into giggles, shaking her head, “The first time he introduced himself to me, I quoted that line and he looked at me like I had two heads.”

“How did he not know that classic? Nights like this, I wish…” I sang, trailing off when she joined in, “that raindrops would fall.”

“You sound good,” I complimented.

“Well I should hope so. Singing for my supper pays the bills,” Jayde quipped, “You got a lil tone on you too, though. I heard you, Nikolas.”

“I can do a lil somethin. So, you’re a singer, huh?”

“And songwriter.”

“That’s what’s up. I love music,” I replied, sounding stupid as hell to my own ears.

Before I could say anything else, my phone rang again with the concierge letting me know that the rest of the group was here. A quick exchange of greetings and then we were all sitting around the table as I moved everything from where chef had it waiting onto the table in my dining area.

“Y’all drinkin’?” I asked Langston.

“Hell yes, we are drinking. You are too,” Jayde piped up before he could respond and I laughed, “What you got for us in here mister fancy basketball player man?”

“Water, juice, pop, wine, beer, champagne…whatever you want, basically?” I said.

“Whatever I want, huh?” Jayde queried, biting her lower lip.

“Jay!” Nyema giggled.

“The man said whatever, friend. I’m just asking for clarity,” Jayde replied laughing, turning to grin at Nyema.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head as I headed back into the kitchen to grab red and white wine, along with glasses. This girl was a lot…but I liked that. A lot.

#samplesunday: double date?

it’s been a minute since we’ve had one of these here, huh? this is a snip of my WIP. release date: tbd. name of project: tbd. unedited and subject to change. i think that covers all the bases, yeah? ok, enjoy!

Langston

I’d been in some pretty awkward situations, but the one I found myself in currently was quite possibly the most awkward one that I’d been in in quite some time. I glared across the table as the current source of this awkward shit held court with our group that was gathered around the small table in the dimly lit lounge. Nyema had reserved us a table near her set up and of course Sharice was the first to arrive, which I’m sure caused some confusion on Nyema’s part when she saw a stranger sitting at the table she’d reserved for her folks. And Sharice making a big ordeal of giving me a hug once we’d finally arrived really didn’t help my case here.

Nyema had yet to come to the table, but the daggers in her gaze as she looked over to us several times in the fifteen or so minutes we’d been here let me know that she was not pleased. And Lena, bless her heart, was trying to make Sharice feel welcomed as I tried to, discreetly move further and further away from her. When she first started working for our firm, Sharice made it very clear that she was interested in getting to know me outside of work and I’d halfway entertained the idea because she was definitely a baddie--smooth deep brown skin, coke bottle shape, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. But after I overheard her in the break room arguing with her baby daddy, I knew that was a bullet that I needed to stay clear of. That didn’t stop her from continuously trying to come on to me.

Neill’s ass knew this...and how I felt about her, so I was not sure what the hell he was thinking with this set up. When I questioned him about it, he feigned ignorance. Saying he just wanted me to not feel like a third wheel and that Sharice wouldn’t read too much into it. He absolutely couldn’t have been more wrong as Sharice had already made mention of this being our first date at least three times, allegedly joking. Our waitress was a little slow, so when I saw Nyema headed toward the bar I took it as my chance to try and grab her ear briefly. I took the table’s drink order, shook of Sharice’s insistence of accompanying me and made my way to the bar quickly. I strolled up to the bar, and rested against the bar top facing Nyema who acted like she didn’t see me at all.

“Nyema,” I said, gently tapping her wrist.

She took her time acknowledging me, turning her head and giving me a wan smile, “Langston.”

“You got a minute?” I asked.

She shook her head, “Not really. It’s almost time for me to get going.”

The bartender came back with a tall glass of sparkling water, garnished with limes and a cherry, and passed it to Nyema.

“Thanks, Jimi, keep these coming,” she said warmly, grabbing the glass and flashing him a brilliant smile.

Aight, so the cold shoulder was just for me as I expected. I flipped my wrist up noting that we still had a couple of minutes before her set was really slated to begin. Instead of asking again for permission, I grabbed Nyema’s unoccupied hand and led her around the corner from where we currently stood so that I could speak with her in semi-privacy.

“Langston, what the fuck? I told you I didn’t have time right now.”

I held a hand up, “All I need is one minute to tell you that what you see right now isn’t what it looks like. I didn’t invite Sharice here tonight.”

“Langston, you’re a grown man. A single grown man. You do not have to explain anything to me.”

“I just thought that after the other day…” I trailed off.

Nyema laughed, sort of mockingly which took me off guard, “Again...you don’t have to explain yourself to me at all. It’s all good and I’ve gotta go.”

3 stars isn't bad and other musings on reviews...

Since becoming an author I am hyper aware of reviews. Definitely more than when I was an avid reader, with a review blog that gave a handful of bad reviews. And when I say bad reviews, I mean like 1-2 stars. 3 stars, in my opinion, is not bad. It’s not great, but I’m not tossing and turning and losing sleep over 3 stars. It simply means that you think I’ve done an adequate enough job. You were entertained, but not blown away. Which…if we’re being totally honest…I can accept. Mainly because there is always room for improvement, so you might think project A is 3 stars, but when I hit you with that 5 star project C, will we even be thinking about project A anymore? Probably not!

I've gotten a lot better about being super obsessive with reviews and not taking the bad ones too much to heart, but...can we talk about when you don't like a book and want to leave your feedback on a public forum for the writer of said book to see?

Can we pleeeeeeeeeease talk about that for just one minute?

I'm gonna rewind for just one second. Once upon a time I was a book blogger. And when I was a book blogger, I prided myself on giving honest reviews, even when I wasn't the biggest fan of a book. And I remember one book where I haaaated everything about it from the title being misleading to the characters being downright unlikable and it was just terrible...so I wrote all of that out on my little blog and let the writer have it, basically.

Well, she found it. And read it. And let me have it right the fuck back in the comments section and honestly? I had to eat it. My review was poor form and I really didn't have to go that hard about the book. And if I did feel like going that hard, I could have offered ways (in my opinion) that the author could address some of the things I had beef with in works going forward. Instead I chose the asshole route and lit her aflame.

Years later I look back on that and think, "wow you sure were arrogant, sis. What makes your opinion mean that much more than anyone else's? were you even the target audience for this book?"

And I know this is informed author me thinking this way and not book consumer me. But also, it's just logical. I get it--I GET IT. Sometimes books are annoying or infuriating or just don't quite hit the note & they aren't such a good time. And maaaaaaybe you want to warn the next reader or whatever, idek, i'm spitballing here. BUT. can you just take a second before you press submit on the amazon or the goodreads or the tweeter with my fucking @ in the tweet and think about how your words may impact the person behind the ones you so despised. Or...OR...keep this lil tenet in the back of your mind:

The function of critique is for the person receiving said critique to absorb, assess, & adjust.

So, for the person who is leveling the criticism: You don't have to be a jerk, my g. Deliver what you're trying to say with clarity and resolve. Ensure that behind the tear down is a hint, a peench of something that the person you're criticizing can use in some way.

For the person who is receiving the criticism: The absorb part of this is simple--take it all in. The assess part of it gets a bit more complicated. For example, there is a loooooooooooooong goodreads review on one of my first projects in which the person picks apart everything they didn't like about the book. Some of the things are nitpicky and personal to that reviewer, but others are valid critiques that I could objectively understand. So when I say assess the critique, I don't mean to either decide the person leveling the crit is a hater and brushing it off, but actually dissecting what is being said and really determining the level of value that it brings towards helping you elevate your craft. And finally comes the adjustment, which is where you decide after assessment which elements are actually impactful and making modifications to do what you need to do in order to fix any areas in which you've fallen short.

Also, for the person offering critique (again, I like a good double back): If you know 20% of the way into the book that it ain't your tea and crumpets, you can just stop reading, baby. I promise no one will shoot you in the pinky toe if you don't. And if you continue to read and compound your irritation? you'll most likely end up trashing a person over an experience that you were in FULL capacity to control.

IDK, this is just all my $0.02, and your mileage may vary...

Return to Ragston: A Winterborne Wedding

I stood next to Charli and the rest of the bridal party as the DJ announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Seth Gardiner and the happy couple entered the reception space. Rocki’s face was the epitome of happiness and I turned to nudge Charli to comment on it, but her face was marred by a grimace. I guessed she was having another one of the Braxton Hicks cramps that had been plaguing her all morning. Poor thing, I thought as Wesley leaned over to speak into her ear before they both took off in different directions.

Soon my attention was pulled from Charli and Wes to the dancefloor where Rocki and Seth were having their first dance. As they swayed to the music, I couldn’t help but grin broadly. The love that radiated between the two of them was palpable and contagious if the looks on the faces of everyone around me was any indication.

“I know we’re supposed to think the bride is the baddest woman in the room today, but you are wearing that dress, baby,” Roosevelt said, coming up behind me and wrapping me in a loose embrace.

I giggled before turning around so that we were face to face, “You don’t look too shabby either, mister.”

Since he wasn’t in the wedding, we’d been split up for the majority of the day, so it felt good to finally be wrapped in his arms once again. We swayed to the music of Rock and Seth’s first dance, completely engrossed in one another that we’d kept right on dancing when the music faded into something a bit quicker. Roosevelt opened his mouth to say something, but then there was a loud commotion in the hall just outside the room in which the reception was being held. Rocki and Seth blew past us to investigate whatever was going on out there and I was immediately on their heels. When we got into the hall, Charli was in Wes’ arms as he carried her.

“Her water just broke,” Wes said, “We’re on our way to the hospital.”

Rocki and I immediately jumped into action, with Charli weakly protesting for us to keep on enjoying their reception. But there was no way on earth we could have gone forward with partying the night away while our girl was in the throes of labor, so we—myself, Roosevelt, Roxanne, and Seth—piled into a limo and followed Wes and Charli to the hospital. The ride in the limo was quiet, all of us lost in our own worlds. Charli wasn’t due for another six weeks, so the littlest diva making her entre into the world today had us a bit worried.

I gnawed on my lip, trying not to yell at the driver to get to the hospital quicker—red lights and traffic laws were of no importance in my mind, currently. I just wanted to get to my friend and make sure she, her husband, and newborn would be okay. When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted by Charli and Wes’ parents, as well as Charli’s grandma Honey, who’d somehow beat us all there. There wasn’t any update on her labor progression as we walked in, so we sat, waiting for an update from either the staff or Wesley at some point.

“Hey,” Roosevelt said, soothingly, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

I smiled weakly, praying that his words would be all right, but still tense as hell until a nurse came and gave us an update. Charli was definitely in real life labor, dilated about halfway. We all sat, absentmindedly watching tv with intermittent updates from the nurses. I texted Grace to let her know that Charli had gone into labor and she came up to the hospital to bring Roosevelt and I more comfortable clothes to change into as we settled in for the long haul.

Around ten o’clock I got a little restless, so I convinced Roosevelt to get up with me and take a quick walk.

“Hey,” I said, tapping Rocki on the shoulder as we passed her, “I’ll be right back—text me if the baby comes before I come back!”

“I got you, boo,” she replied, laughing.

Roosevelt and I wandered aimlessly around the hospital before ending right back up in the maternity ward staring at a room filled with random equipment that had a large picture window. I assumed that this used to be the nursery area like the ones you’d see on television, through which folks could view newborns. I stopped just aside the room, leaning on the wall and heaving a sigh.

“Hey…what’s going on with you?” Roosevelt asked, “You’ve been kinda…off since we got here to Ragston. Did something happen with your folks?”

I shook my head, “No, nothing like that. They actually want us to come by for dinner one night before we get outta here.”

Since we were in town for the wedding, Roosevelt and I were staying at the Winterborne instead of at my sister’s place. My relationship with my parents was still in the very early stages of being mended, and I knew that while we were working to get to a place where we could resume being as normal a family as possible—there was no way on Jehovah’s green earth that they were going to let an unmarried Roosevelt and I share a room under their roof.

“Okay,” Roosevelt pushed out slowly, “So…what is it?”

“Do you want kids?” I blurted.

Despite having gotten increasingly closer as our relationship progressed, this was one subject we’d never broached directly. We both made references to our lives together in the future, speaking as if marriage was a certainty, not just a possibility. But the subject of children hadn’t been one that we’d talk about in depth. And quite frankly, I’d been…hesitant to broach the subject, namely because the last man that I thought would be my forever and the father of my children ended up being the biggest dud. So, I called myself not putting too many eggs in the Roosevelt basket, trying to play it cool. I didn’t want him to think I was applying pressure; didn’t want him to cut and run if I was coming on too strong.

Roosevelt smiled, the appearance of his twin dimples immediately sending frissons of heat through my body, “Yeah, I can definitely see myself being a dad. Getting it right, you know? Being as good to them as my grandparents were to me. Yeah, I can definitely see convincing you to pop out about four or five of my lil nappyheaded babies, no doubt.”

My face heated at the sureness of his tone that his hypothetical children would be a result of our union. Biting back a grin, I spoke again, “I…wasn’t always so sure I wanted to be a mom, you know? I just knew that it what was expected of me should I ever get married and I mean…I’m not opposed to it, but honestly the thought of motherhood scares the shanana out of me, babe. And seeing Charli go into labor this early…I am…this…whew, this is a lot.”

“Hey,” Roosevelt said, gathering me in his arms, “Just know that whenever and however our time comes, I got you. No matter what, I got you, okay baby?”

I nodded before sinking further into his embrace as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. We stood there for a few moments in silence before I spoke again.

“Roosevelt?” I said, pulling back so I could peer up into his eyes.

“Emerson?” he prompted when I said nothing further.

“I’m pregnant.”

A few seconds—that honestly felt like hours—passed with us staring at one another silently before I blurted out, “Well…you gotta say something!”

“You’re having my baby?” Roosevelt asked, awe coating his words.

“According to the sixteen over the counter pregnancy tests and the urine and blood tests at my doctor’s office it seems that way.”

“Sixteen?” Roosevelt chuckled.

“I needed to be sure!” I exclaimed, unable to contain a few giggles myself.

“To the point of compulsion, obviously. Wow.”

“Is that a good or bad wow?” I asked, gnawing at my lower lip, trying to play it cool.

I was kind of vexed that he’d not responded to this news with any sort of extreme emotion—good or bad. That made me a little nervous…oh heck, who was I kidding it made me extremely nervous. We were in a good space in our relationship, but that didn’t mean that this news would continue to keep us in that space.

Roosevelt reached out to stop me from gnashing my bottom lip to the white meat, capturing my mouth in a sweetly soft kiss.

“It’s an extremely shocked and in awe, but utterly grateful wow, baby,” he replied when we pulled back from the kiss.

“Yeah?” I asked, softly.

“Hell yeah! I mean, it isn’t ideal because I’d planned on putting a lil somethin’ somethin’ here,” he said, lacing our hands together and squeezing my ring finger, “before we made any little Emros, but nothing about our relationship so far has been traditional, so…you know. But hey…how long have you been holding onto this?”

I lowered my head, breaking our eye contact. I’d found out almost a month ago, but hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone, but Miss Denise. She and I had grown increasingly closer over the past year and I looked at her as a maternal figure of sorts. Those first positives on the home pregnancy tests had me completely shook and she happened to stop by my house to bring over some plants she’d been telling me that I needed to brighten my place up—despite me telling her that I had a brown thumb. When I answered the door shell shocked, she immediately knew something was wrong. And just like she got me together in that darn club bathroom, she pulled me out of my stupor about being pregnant, reminding me of how much of a blessing it was to be a mother—distracting me with tales of each time she found out that she was pregnant with one of her girls. She and I talked for at least four or five hours that day as I went back and forth between being scared out of my mind and feeling completely blessed to be on the cusp of building a family with the man that I loved with everything in me.

“Ummm…” I hedged.

“So, a while,” Roosevelt replied, his grin replaced by a brief grimace, before he continued, “Baby…”

“I know…believe me when I say, it had nothing to do with you. I just…I needed some time to get used to it…I mean the idea of being pregnant and eventually being someone’s mama. And honestly? I was all right with it and planned on telling you before we came here, but then it was time for us to come out here and…”

“Emerson, you’re rambling,” Roosevelt cut me off, “I’m not upset, baby. Just…I want you to know you don’t have to keep anything…and I mean any-damn-thing from me. Whatever you’re facing, I’m here for you and we will handle together, okay?”

I nodded.

“Good…now that we’ve got that understood, baby mama,” Roosevelt said, “I hope that besides Miss Denise, no one else knew this before me.”

I giggled, shaking my head, “Nope, baby daddy. I had to tell you before I burst. I certainly didn’t expect for us to be on a maternity ward when I broke the news, but…here we are.”

“Wait…but you were drinking this weekend?”

I shook my head, “I had sparkling water or juice all weekend. I gave off the appearance of drinking like everyone else, but don’t play me. I wouldn’t ever endanger our baby like that.”

“I like the sound of that,” Roosevelt said, grinning.

“That I wouldn’t give our child fetal alcohol syndrome. Dang, baby, you think that little of—” I said before Roosevelt cut me off.

“Nah…I like the sound of those two words in succession—our baby,” Roosevelt said, the grin on his face spreading even more broadly.

I was powerless to stop myself from cheesing just as widely, immensely grateful and thankful for this moment, his reaction, our connection—everything.

“Yeah…I do, too.”

“Aight, lil mama, let’s get back over to the waiting room with everyone. See about this new lil baby that’s on the horizon. Hey…when are you gonna tell the other Divas? About our little one?”

“I had planned on telling them before Seth and Rocki took off on their honeymoon, but I also hadn’t planned on Charli going into labor so early, so…I might just wait until things calm down a little bit more,” I said, leading Roosevelt back into the direction of the waiting room by the hand.

“Wait…before we go…” he said, bending in front of me onto one knee.

My hands flew to my mouth, “Roose—”

 “Not yet, mama. I just wanted to get up close and personal with my baby,” he said, shaking his head and placing one of his large palms across my belly as he leaned in to press soft kiss to the nonexistent bump and whispered a few words that had my breath catching in my throat as I tried not to burst into tears.

He straightened up after chatting with the baby for a couple minutes, and then grabbed my hand, leading me back toward the waiting room, “Now we can go rejoin everyone.”

About an hour after we rejoined everyone, Charli and Wes’ new little bundle of joy made her entry into the world. Born at 12:01am New Year’s Day, Celestial Elaine Philips was the spitting image of Charli, the cutest little thing I’d ever seen. When we were allowed to go into the room to see mama and baby, Wes was cradling his baby girl, looking down at her with awe etched into his features.

“Congratulations, Wes,” I said, “She is a beautiful addition to the REC Shop Divas.”

“She really is,” he replied, with a note of wistfulness in his tone.

I left him to be continued to be bewitched by his brand-new baby girl before checking on Charli. She was knocked out, which was to be expected since she’d definitely exerted herself tonight bringing new life into the world.

“Congratulations, mama Charli,” I said, bending down to kiss her on the forehead before leaving their little family to bond and adjust to life going forward.

Having been up since early in the morning before the wedding ceremony I was darn near dead on my feet, so Roosevelt saying that he’d had our rental delivered to the hospital while we were waiting was music to my ears. Even though we’d ridden over here with Roxanne and Seth, it was still their wedding day and they deserved a bit of alone time as they began their honeymoon. Roosevelt recognized that when he made the arrangements for us to have alternate transportation back to the hotel and I was once again blown away by his intuitive nature.

The hospital wasn’t but a short ride from the inn, where we were staying, but I knocked out almost as soon as I buckled my seatbelt. The extreme fatigue was the only real change in my body with this pregnancy so far. The doctor said that I’d been extremely lucky to not have experienced any of the nausea that usually comes with the first trimester of pregnancy. I was just over ten weeks along, coming up on the end of the first trimester and, knock on wood, so far so good.

I awakened in the wee hours of the morning all tangled up with Emerson, despite having not slept no more than three or four hours if the time on the bedside clock was actually right. My hands resting on her belly reminded me of the bomb that she dropped on me last night. Holy shit, I thought, in a few short months I’m about to be a father. Unbidden, I felt the grin spread across my face before I could even stop it. Emerson had been acting downright weird over the past few weeks, but I thought it was due to the promotion she’d received at work and the added responsibility that came along with it. She was so wound up—tense all the time and I tried my damndest to make sure I relaxed her at any possible juncture. I can’t front…it was a little rough in the beginning before I finally moved back out to LA. Emerson was moody, short-fused, and ill-tempered the entire time that we were long distance. But my arm chair shrink PhD instantly diagnosed her behavior as a side effect of insecurity, borne of the mess she’d gotten out of with that Bobby fool.

That nigga better be lucky that I loved Emerson and my child-to-be entirely too much to find him and fuck up him, permanently because I swear, I had to deal with the ghost of him and the after effects of his manipulation of my girl a little too long for my liking. Luckily, we were past all of that now, but he could still get this work if I saw him in the streets. Moving back to LA was…interesting considering I’d waved the white flag and conceded defeat not more than six months earlier. Ryan insisted that while I could do my job from virtually anywhere, he much preferred me in LA, where the label’s home base was so that I could liaise with other folks within the label easier when it came to facilitating things for my artists. My girl being out there made it a no brainer, but I decided that if I was gonna do this for real, I was going all in. So, it took me a few months to get my things settled in Chicago before leaving again—for good. I was positive that my job was going to be the catalyst for my blast onto the music scene. I knew that nothing short of a catastrophic event was tearing me away from Emerson. All signs pointed towards LA being where I would land and stay forever.

Nat was salty, she’d assumed that when I moved back home that I would be there for good, settling into a life that was just okay. But I couldn’t let that be my fate. Not after I’d worked so hard to leave a broader impact on this world. And…damn, leaving an impact on the world was an understatement when it came to being a parent. For that kid, I’d be his or her whole world for a great while…which, honestly had me scared as shit. I mean, I had the greatest example in my grandparents, but what if I had some of those latent tendencies of my dad lying dormant, waiting to be activated by the birth of my own seed.

“Mmmm, you look deep in thought,” Emerson murmured, peering up at me through half raised lids.

I hadn’t even noticed that she’d awakened and had turned in my embrace, molding her body to mine even further.

“Just thinking about you, baby mama. And how grateful I am for you. I love you,” I said, kissing her softly.

Her eyes brightened, the way they did every time I uttered those three words, as if she was shocked that I really did love her. Loved the damn girl to distraction.

“I love you, too, baby daddy,” she giggled, as I nuzzled her neck, raining soft kisses down the column to her collarbone.

Emerson sighed softly as I rolled her onto her back, bracing my weight on my forearms as I hovered above her. She looked so damned beautiful—hair all over her head because she’d said screw a scarf last night. Fresh-faced because no matter how tired she was, she washed her face nightly—especially when she’d been in heavier make up than she normally wore. Her hands cupped my face, bringing my mouth down to hers for a sweet kiss that soon turned fiery as she traced the seam of my lips, begging for her tongue’s entrance into my mouth. I opened instantly, deepening the kiss as Emerson purred in delight. With hands as rapacious as my tongue, I quickly undressed both of us and slid into Emerson’s warmth.

“Mmmmmm,” Emerson moaned as I doled out slow strokes combined with lingering kisses on the tops of her breasts, “Sheesh Ro…you feel so good.”

I chuckled, picking up the pace of my strokes because she felt too damned good to keep slow stroking it, “Nah, that’s all you. You and this pregnant pussy bout to make me a one-minute man.”

Emerson gasped, then giggled as she clenched tightly around me, “That feel good to you baby?”

I groaned, burying my face in her neck as I pounded into her. She knew good and damn hell it felt good to me, hell that was how we got in this predicament in the first place now that I thought about it. We’d met Nat and Kiki out in Vegas for Nat’s birthday and a little too much drinking and…other substancing led to us playing a little loosey goosey with the condoms while we were away. Emerson had taken a Plan B pill after our oops, and I assumed that was enough, but clearly not so much. She’d felt like heaven on earth when I was buried deep within her while elevated, but stone cold sober? Shit, this pussy was good enough for her to ask me to do anything and I’d do it. If this is what I had to look forward to for the next seven months, she ws going to have a hard time keeping me off of her.

“Ro…mmmmmmm,” Emerson moaned again, in a decidedly high putch than before which signaled to me that she was near climaxing. I slowed the tempo of my strokes again, teasing her with incremental withdrawals, then slowly sliding into her wetness, damn near cumming myself because she was dripping with it. Her hands slid down my back, nails driving into my ass cheeks as she panted in my ear for me to stop teasing her and fuck her faster and harder.

Who was I to deny her pleasure? Or my own? I stopped teasing her and built up my speed again, slipping and sliding into her more and more rapidly, spurred on by the high-pitched yelps and squeaks she emitted. Her thighs trembled as she tumbled into release, clasping around me in a tight grip, sending me blasting off right behind her. Gingerly, I lowered myself onto her body—still inside of her, but with my weight braced on my arms so I wouldn’t crush her. I just…wasn’t ready to no longer be enveloped by her depths quite yet.

Emerson sighed contentedly, urging me to rest my full weight upon her.

I lifted a brow, “The baby?”

“Wants his daddy close too?”

“Wait,” I said, finally pulling out and laying down beside her, but still remaining as close as possible, “You already know the sex of the baby?”

Emerson giggled, “No, not officially…but I’ve been feeling some masculine energy up in here.”

“Well, I mean…” I started.

“Not like that, silly. Call it mommy’s intuition or whatever, but I feel like I’m cooking little Roosevelt the Fourth up in here,” she said, still giggling.

“Ugh, I groaned, “we’re going to dead that legacy if you are carrying my son. I know that much.”

“You wouldn’t wanna name him after you, babe?” Emerson asked, genuinely curious, “Why not?”

“The name comes with a burden I’d rather not have little man endure, you know?” I said.

Emerson was quiet for a few moments before murmuring an answer in the affirmative.

“You know we won’t be like them, right?” she said suddenly, “Like our parents? We know better so we’ll do better.”

“You sound very certain about that,” I said, skeptically.

“I’ve had a little longer to sit with it than you, but you’ll get there eventually,” Emerson replied soberly, “I’m serious though. We’re going to get this right, baby. Or die trying.”

I looked down at her and there was a ghost of a smile playing around her lips, but her eyes looked serious and filled with worry. I shook my head, clearing it of the thoughts that were swirling around that were the exact opposite of the words that Emerson spoke aloud. Leaning down to kiss her softly I replied, “You’re right, baby…we’re gonna kill this parenting thing.”

We were at my parents’ house, having lunch with them, Grace, Tamia and Ted before we headed back to LA. The guys had gone off to watch some sports game and us women sat around in the kitchen snacking on my mom’s famous sweet potato pie and catching up on general gossip. This morning before we left come over here, I told Roosevelt that I wanted to tell them that I was with child. He wanted to make it a whole thing where we told the whole family at once, but I definitely didn’t want my dad to have a flashback and freak out about us expecting a child with no ring in sight. So, we compromised on me just telling Grace and then the both of us sitting down with my parents before we left.

But then as my mother sat here, not so subtly dropping hints about hoping that this thing between Roosevelt and I not turning into the situation I had with Bobby dragging our relationship out for over five years and us not ending up in marriage I’d had enough.

“Well, even if we don’t work out, mommy, we’ll be tied together for at least the next eighteen years if not for the rest of the time we’re both on this earth,” I snapped.

The room fell silent as Mommy, Grace, and Tamia all gaped at me open mouthed. I lowered my head to my hands, frustrated that I’d let her comments get to me and lead me to blurting that out like that.

“Nay…you let the axe murderer knock you up!” Grace screeched at the same time Tamia squealed, “You’re gonna have a baby, Tee?!”

“I really wish you’d stop calling him the axe murdered, Gracie,” I sighed.

“Oh please, you know jokes trump facts in my world, baby sis. You might as well get used to it. Ro’s forever the axe murderer. And apparently he’s been out here murdering that axe wound…”

“Yoooooo, chill,” I said, laughing, “Mommy is right here!”

“And so is your daughter, Grace, jeez,” Mommy said, scandalized, “My goodness, can you act like I raised you to have a crumb of sense about yourself?”

Grace said nothing, merely raised her hands in a shrug as she laughed.

“Yes, Shug, I’m having a baby,” I said to Tamia who looked like she was trying to figure out what her mom was talking about being murdered.

“That’s so cool, Tee! I’ve been trying to convince my mom to have a baby for like five years because I hate being the youngest,” Tamia gushed.

Beyond chastising Grace, my mother had yet to say anything about my revelation.

“Mommy?” I said, peering at her.

She sat, mouth still agape, eyes glossed over with a sheen of unshed tears, “My baby’s having a baby?”

The tears she’d been trying to hold at bay, spilling over as I nodded, feeling my own eyes well up. She yelped, jumping up and coming over to embrace me. We both rocked back and forth, crying tears of happiness as Grace crowed loudly about how she was gonna spoil Tete’s baby. Soon the men came into the room, the ruckus we were making drawing them back into the dining room to see what was going on. I met Roosevelt’s eyes over my mother’s shoulder and he just shook his head.

“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to hold water,” he laughed, before asking my father to step into his study so they could talk.

“Babe, wait,” I said, shrugging out of my mother’s embrace and trying to follow him.

Roosevelt turned back, raising a hand, “It’s aight baby, I got this.”

My father looked puzzled as ever but led the way into his study. About fifteen minutes later both men reemerged and my father made a beeline to me, wrapping me in a tight embrace, kissing me on the forehead.

“Congratulations, baby girl,” he whispered tightly, shocking the hell out of me.

Pretty soon all of the emotion had me wrung out and ready to lay it down, so we said our goodbyes to my family and headed back to our room at the Winterborne. Not even bothering to do more than remove my shoes, I collapsed onto the bed wanting to take a nap before we were set to head over to the Philips’ to see Charli, Wes and Baby Celestial this evening. Seth and Rocki were still in the area too before they were heading to their honeymoon in the Maldives, so this would be our last little hurrah all together. Our flight out in the morning was pretty early, so the plan was to bring them dinner, and have a nice chill night before we headed back to the hectic mess that was our life back home in LA. No sooner than my head hit the pillow, I was completely out, only awakening when Roosevelt softly shook me out of slumber so that we could make our way to see our friends.

I got up, refreshed myself and then followed Roosevelt out to our rental to make our way over to Charli and Wes’ house. He had been acting strangely since I’d awakened, and I was nervous that he was upset with how everything shook out with telling my family about the baby. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up because I didn’t want us to bring tension into our gathering with everyone. I reached over and squeezed Roosevelt’s hand that was holding onto the gear shaft as he drove. He glanced over briefly, shooting me one of those panty wetting grins and I immediately knew that he was fine…and we were okay. When we reached Charli and Wes’ I moved to get out of the car, but Roosevelt stopped me.

“So, you know how you were waiting for the right time to tell me about the baby before we came here but could never seem to find it?” he said.

I nodded, not quite sure where this question would lead us.

“I’d also been holding something back from you that I couldn’t seem to figure out the timing about. But then a wise man told me that timing means nothing when you know what you want so…” Roosevelt said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and retrieving a ring box, “Emerson Renee Parker, will you do me the honor of being my wife in addition to being my baby mama?”

My mouth dropped, wholly surprised because this was the last thing I’d expected.

“Roosevelt…I…”

“This isn’t a knee jerk reaction to you telling me you’re pregnant or anything, babe. Your dad didn’t pull out the shotgun when he and I chatted, quite the opposite actually. I’d been carrying this ring around for weeks and was going to seek his blessing when we came to town for the wedding anyway, but…”

“YES!” I shouted over his little speech, not giving a care in the world about anything else but letting the man of my dreams know that I wasn’t going to let him go any time soon.

“Yes?” he asked, shell shocked.

I nodded my answer, tears streaming down my face, unable to vocalize anything as I held out my hand for him to slip the ring onto. The ring was beautiful and simplistic, a princess cut solitaire on a rose gold band. He slid the ring onto my finger and I gaped at it in awe, then drew him into me for a kiss that said all of the words my teeth and tongue couldn’t seem to work in conjunction to expel from my mouth.

Breaking apart, Roosevelt rested his forehead against mine, “This is the best start to a new year that I’ve had in a long time.”

“Ditto, baby. Ditto.”

eyes on your own paper, nic.

wow, this website can hold words, too, huh? who knew. i haven’t used it as more than a storehouse for episodes of the podcast in a very long time. but this morning i woke up with a song on my heart. or some words on my fingertips…however you wanna phrase it.

i made the above image this morning because i needed a visual representation of the hard work i’ve put in over the past couple of years. i have this really bad habit of consistently undermining myself in regard to my levels of accomplishment. i’m a chronic overachiever and overfunctioner. i do not like being idle for too much time because that’s the devil’s playground or whateva. but honestly it’s coz if i give myself too much time to think about things that are not productive i slide down into a place where i do dumb shit. what kind of dumb shit you may ask? well, i’ve got a list pal:

• compare myself to other people around me doing the same things

• denegrate myself for not doing more (despite having less time in general; not in comparison to others)

• overbook myself trying to be everything for every body

• lose myself in trying to live up to some standard that has been set by no one but me

and all of these things can lead to burn out. which, i rarely experience, but when i do? oh baby. it’s shut down city. the kid ain’t even tryna go that route, so every now and again i check myself. i’m a visual learner with a fake photographic, yet short term deficient memory, so i have to do things like make charts/collages/etc. to remind me of what i’ve done in so little time.

for the first year and a quarter of my publishing career i juggled working full time, being in graduate school, and writing. but i would see my contemporaries with new releases every other fortnight and i’d berate myself. convinced that i could be doing more, despite having more than enough on my plate. because at some point this nicole falls thing went from being “oh that’s cute, i’m published” to “ok bitch now you need to dominate”.

& let me tell y’all something. i’m a survivor of gifted & talented programs of the late 80s and 90s. used to always being at the top of the heap, star of the show, center of attention for being fucking brilliant, you dig? being average in this book writing thing? it wasn’t working for me. i needed to come harder. dig deeper. release more projects. be in more faces. do all of the events. make everyone love me. blah blah blah bullshit. more unnecessary and undue pressure to live up to an impossible standard.

i’m never gonna be everyone’s favorite. i’ll get to #1 status eventually. might even get a stan or two along the way. but i won’t get there if i keep thinking that my success has to look like her success or her success or her success. if i keep worrying about what author a, b or ccj is doing, how does that help push MY brand forward? if i’m focused on writing what i think people wanna read instead of listening to my intuition, where does that get me? who am i doing this for? what is even the purpose? when will i ever reach whatever peak or summit i deem to be the highest, thus being satisfied?

the answer to those questions (in order) is: it doesn’t. nowhere. your ego. ain’t nan. never.

& quite frankly, none of those are satisfying to me. what is satisfying, however, is reveling in accomplishment. seeing every new project as a way to grow, and learn, and expand, and progress, and thrive. zooming out every now and again to take a look at the larger picture and being grateful for gift, talent, drive, and creation.

so now i work to actively do those things. CONSISTENTLY. and honestly? that shit’s harder than the writing.