Strictly Business.

A gloomy Friday in the office wasn’t ideal, neither was the coffee stain on my blouse. My sales pitch was almost complete after weeks of researching and analyzing effective strategies to yield yet another lucrative quarter for our marketing agency. Although I still needed to work on my proposal, I was relieved to have the rudiments and supporting data archived and prepared to be incorporated into the conjoined presentation slides. Collaborating on this project with anyone else would’ve made me apprehensive, but since it wasn’t with just anyone, I was more inclined to learn all aspects of it, and all aspects of him, too.

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Chicago in September.

The wedding rehearsal was a disaster. I was hoping to be paired with someone who at least matched my energy during the formal dance, but that wasn’t the case. September was dancing like she had two left feet—they were two pretty ass feet, but that’s beside the point. I, Chicago on the other hand, am a Delta, so I wanted to strut and really show out for the reception dance, but that would cause me to outshine her, no-rhythm-having ass. How did I get stuck being partnered with the prude, awkward, bridesmaid?

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House Call.

Today was a self-care day, but I made an exception for Bryson since I was his favorite barber—shit, I was his only barber. I only took this house call for him because I’m serious about my “me time” when I’m not at the shop, plus, I enjoyed entertaining his flirtatious gestures. It was lighthearted, it was fun, but at the shop, it wasn’t the most appropriate behavior.

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Hustle & Flow.

It was brick in North Carolina. I’m talking thirty-five degrees. The only thing that was keeping niggas hot was Dreamville—the gentlemen’s club. I dropped shorty off there a few hours ago to do her thing, you know, to make her rounds and whatnot. I had a few rounds to make myself. I’d like to say that I’m an organized man. I had every ounce of product pre-cut, zipped, priced and categorized. Whatever the demand was, I had the supply. I always kept it professional. That’s what I was known for. I had no time for mishaps or miscalculations. Time was money and money was time.

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Torn In Between the Two.

Prologue:

A’mina had been neglected by Hakeem since he started this new job. His career seemed more important than her at times, and she could no longer keep tabs on how often she’d been put on the back-burner due to his work addiction. He’d wake up talking about his prestigious position, then go to bed talking about it too. He wasn’t emotionally present when she needed him to be, but his physical companionship was nothing short of satisfaction. Hakeem’s perpetual habits and disappearing acts caused her to distance herself and branch out— searching to fill the void that he left empty. 

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