by Briann Danae
She Used to Be the Sweetest Girl
Written by: BriAnn Danae
Copyright 2016 by Briann Danae
Published by Shan Presents
All rights reserved
www.shanpresents.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales or, is entirely coincidental.
No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writer permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Acknowledgements
Praise to the man above Himself for blessing me with a talent I did not know I possessed. Without Him, none of this would have been possible. So salute to Him first and foremost!
To my family, friends, and supporters .. thank you all so much! The love I have been shown since gracing the literary world makes my heart smile. Not everyone is going to support your talent & I have come to accept that, but thank you all who have been rocking with me from the beginning!
To the readers .. thank you! From every last one of you who started with me from “Speechless: When Love Hurts” series, to “I Was Never Supposed to Love You: Meechi & Erica’s Story”, thank you! Not everyone can do what you all do! I appreciate you all!
To Shan, thank you for this opportunity, and I look forward to this journey with you and all of SP authors. It’s only up from here!
Hey, Merc!
This story was also a part of the book “Married to The Hustle: A Thug Luv Anthology”, but is now written in full length. Hope you enjoy!
This book is dedicated to
Deborah M. Nero
Rest in Peace Mommy. You are definitely my Angel!
**This is a STANDALONE Novel**
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One
“Will that be all for you today, ma’am?” Brix asked the lady through the speaker.
It was five p.m. and her day was finally coming to an end, for now. Working at Ross First National Bank had been her little hustle for the last three years, and she was more than ready to get off. She had an even longer night ahead of her and planned to be up late. A part-time bank teller through the week, and what she considered to be a cake boss by night. She could bake her ass off and everyone knew it.
“Whew! That’s the last customer everyone,” the manager said, locking the door as everyone began a slow clap.
Brix began counting her drawer down and took it to the safe. Everyone was slow poking around and gossiping, but not her. She had moves to make and needed to get going.
“I’ll see y’all Monday morning. Have a safe weekend,” she said before hopping in her car.
Wal-Mart was her first destination. She had three orders for tomorrow, and if she didn’t pick up the ingredients as her mama asked, she was going to hear her mouth. Being the only child had put a lot of responsibility on Brix. Although her parents had spoiled her growing up, things definitely were not the same once her father died. A horrible car accident two years ago ended his life and left her mother unable to work. Brix stepped up to the plate, as much as she could, to provide for her and her mother. The monthly checks her mom received, plus her income, were only covering the bare minimum. No matter how much overtime she went in for, or how many cakes she sold, she never felt like she was doing enough.
She whipped into a parking spot, cutting the car off in front of her as they blew their horn at her rudeness. “I didn’t even see them, whoops,” she laughed, getting out the car and walking through the double doors that seemed to open only when you almost ran into them.
“Okay, two dozen eggs, food coloring, non-salted sticks of butter, and shoot… what else did she say?” she rambled on, grabbing a cart. She did not feel like calling her mama and hoped she would remember as she walked the aisles.
As always on a Friday evening, the store was packed. Although Schucks was closer, Wal-Mart had better deals. Moreover, she knew where everything was located. She walked down the aisles, getting what she needed, yawning, while mentally preparing herself for the long night ahead. This was her normal routine. Go to work all day, and then bake all night. Only thing she wishes she could change was to have more time doing what she actually loved, but that time would come one day. Things always come to those who wait, and she had been patiently waiting for the last three years for a miracle to happen.
“Ah, that’s what I need! Vanilla extract,” she said, remembering. Pushing the basket over to the next aisle, she moved to the side, sucking her teeth. The last item she needed was on the top shelf, way out of reach for her tiny frame. Standing at only 5’2, pretty much everything was out of her reach.
“Why would they put the stuff all the way at the top,” she said, rolling her eyes. She peeked outside the aisle until she saw a guy walking by in a blue shirt. He had strolled by in just the nick of time.
“Hey, excuse me, sir. Can you please grab this item off the shelf for me? I don’t know why you guys put things so high up,” she said, getting his attention.
“I don’t work here, but I’ll grab it for you,” the guy said, walking into the aisle.
Sure enough, the blue shirt he was wearing was not in representation of Wal-Mart at all. It was True Religion, just as his jeans that hung slightly off his behind. Brix blinked her eyes a few times, trying to control her lustful stares, as he reached above her. The cologne he was wearing, which she was sure cost a grip, invaded her nostrils. Damn, he smells good, she thought, scooting over some. He brought the bottle down, placing it in her hand, with a smile on his face. Brix looked away, not wanting to get trapped in his gaze.
“Thank you. Sorry for thinking you worked here,” she said, placing the box in her basket, completing her list.
“It’s all good. A nigga do look like he works here,” he replied, laughing.
His smile was breathtaking to her, even with one tooth being slightly crooked. She felt herself smiling just because he was.
“Yeah. Kind of hard not to blend in with the employees,” she said, leaning on her basket.
Shemel didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help but stare at her. Brix’s long eyelashes, pouty lips, and dainty nose captivated him. With each word she spoke and blink of her eyes, he licked his lips, admiring her beauty. He had never seen her before, but was happy to be wearing the right colored shirt today.
“You right. You might wanna bring a step stool with you next time. You know, so you don’t have to ask random people for help,” he chuckled, while readjusting the items in his arm.
“I’m not ashamed to ask for help. I was always told, a closed mouth don’t get fed. Thanks anyway though,” she replied, walking away.
Brix took his comment a little offensively. She had never been ashamed to ask for help, and she wouldn’t start. Shemel didn’t mean to offend her. He figured the joke would make her laugh, but it had not. Now instead of holding a conversation he was actually interested in having, he was watching as Brix switched away.
“Damn she was fine,” he said to himself, before heading up to the register.
He only ran in the store to grab a few things and it had taken longer than expected. His cousins and best friend were outside waitin
g on him, and he already knew they were going to be talking shit once he made it back to the car. On the other end of the store, Brix picked out a few sets of oils, that she didn’t need, and made her way to the front. If there was anything she loved more than baking, it was smell goods. No matter how stressful of a day she had, her oil diffuser and peaceful room gave her a good energy. It was something she grew to love after her dad passed, and it helped her through many nights of crying.
She paid for her items using her mom’s food stamp card and did a little praise dance inside for the government assistance. To her, the more money she could save toward bills, the less she had to stress. The free money was definitely going to help multiply her income by the end of tomorrow. If Brix didn’t know anything else, she knew how to make shit happen. Hustle to her wasn’t just about getting up every day and going to her job. It was about having ambition and a plan. She didn’t plan to work at the bank for the rest of her life, but for right now, it was what was bringing in the money, alongside her other profits. If she wasn’t baking or at the bank, she was helping people budget their money. It might sound crazy, but she knew what she was doing. If she were to ever go to college, Brix told herself she would major in business and accounting. That was a dream of hers that had been put on hold, but she still found a way to live it out.
* * * * *
Pulling into the driveway, she yawned once more before pulling the groceries from the back seat. She heard the slow jams playing before she could even walk in the house and knew her mama had already started on her orders. Although she was disabled, Mrs. Carla still did as much as her body would let her. The accident had caused her so much nerve damage and anxiety; there was no way she could go back to work. She tried and it just wasn’t happening. The long hours she used to pull with being a nurse, were a no go now.
“Look at you in here grooving,” Brix said, placing the bags on the counter.
“You know once those old jams come on, you can’t help but to groove,” she smiled while twirling Brix around by her hand.
Their relationship over the years had grown stronger than before. When the man of the house died, so did a piece of them. When times got hard, they leaned on one another and pushed each other to be stronger than the day before. It wasn’t always easy, and being that he wasn’t Brix’s real father, it made her love for him expand even more. He was her real father in her eyes, and that’s all that mattered.
“How many you mixed up so far?” Brix asked as she peeked inside the oven window.
“Just the first two. I’m working on the cupcakes now,” her mother replied.
“Why does a little girl need fifty cupcakes and two sheet cakes anyway?” Brix asked.
A lady her mom used to work with had placed the order for her granddaughter’s sixth birthday party, and Brix could not understand what six-year-old needed that much cake. She was going to do the job, regardless of how big the order, but still. She figured you could never have too much.
“You’re asking the wrong person. Ms. Tamika has been spoiling that child since she was born. We couldn’t walk anywhere on her floor without getting stopped by her to see a picture of her grandbaby,” she replied, smiling.
“Well this grandbaby of hers sure better be smiling tomorrow. I’s tired,” she said, yawning.
“Don’t come in here yawning now. I was doing good,” her mama said, swatting her with the dishrag.
The two stayed up together until Mrs. Carla got tired and went to bed. Brix was still up whipping though. Once she finished icing the cupcakes and flipping the sheets onto cardboard, she began her next order. She had turned from her mom’s old tunes and was now listening to “We Could Be Better” by Janine and the Mixtape. She shook her head thinking of the last time she felt any type of feelings for a guy. Her ex-boyfriend, Drew, used to be the love of her life, or so she thought. They had been dating since high school and some years after that. It wasn’t until her father died that the relationship began to feel more one-sided and lonely for Brix.
Not even a month after laying her father to rest, Drew had simply cut all ties with her. Sure she had been going through some things, but for him to just abandon her in her time of need, broke her heart. He would still text or call her from time to time, but Brix’s heart had already iced over. She loved him with everything in her and he straight left her. Till this day, she didn’t know why and didn’t have the need to find out either. The two men in her life who promised to always be there, were now gone.
She wiped the lone tear that slipped from her eye and took a deep breath. Yes, she had been through a lot over the years, but she was still standing. Her good had outweighed the bad, and she had no one to thank but the man above for shedding light onto her situations. Brix and her mother could have been doing a lot worse. Placing the plastic wrap over the last cake of the night, she gave herself a pat on the back. It was going on one in the morning and she had to be up bright and early to finish her orders. Taking a look around at the halfway clean kitchen, rubbing her eyes, she shook her head no.
“You will not be getting cleaned tonight kitchen. Un un,” she said, walking up the stairs toward her bedroom.
The room wasn’t as big as the one she had in her old apartment, but it was hers, and she had somewhere to lay her head. There was no way she was letting her mother live alone in this big house. Brix wasn’t having that. Tossing her dirty laundry in the hamper, she climbed in the shower, washing away another day of hard work. Climbing out, she lotioned down in her favorite signature body lotion from Bath and Body Works, a gift from her cousin, and hopped in bed.
“May the Lord bless me, angels protect me, family and friends make it through the night and give strength to those who are weak. Thank you for another day and I pray you protect those who cannot protect themselves. Amen,” she prayed, cutting her light off and heading to bed.
She hadn’t always prayed, but certain things had happened in her life and she had no one to turn to. If no one else was down for her and kept his or her promises, she knew the Lord would.
Two
“Boy! If you don’t turn that damn music down! Ain’t nobody tryna hear that early in the morning!” Shemel’s mama yelled down the basement steps.
Shemel wasn’t trying to hear what she was talking about. One of his homeboys had just sent him a cold beat to listen to and that mufucka was live. He had been up all night waiting for him to send it over and finally, at eight in the morning, he received it. He had been working on the next song he was going to drop, and this beat just might be the one he needed to take him to the next level. At twenty-five, Shemel Wright was somewhat living out his dream. He hadn’t made it to where everyone knew his name, but he was close. A few record labels had hit him up wanting to discuss deals, but he wasn’t feeling them, especially if the money wasn’t right. That’s what they saw him as in the end anyway, so why not make ‘em drop bread.
He turned the stereo system down, and then jogged upstairs to the kitchen where his mama was making breakfast. He had crashed over there the night before after running the streets with his people, and hadn’t been to sleep since. He figured he could sleep when he died, but until then, he was getting to the money. He kissed his mother on the cheek, after scarfing down his food, and went to hop in the shower to get his day started. He had to bust a few serves and make some runs for his mama before the birthday party. His little princess was turning six and he couldn’t wait to give her her gifts.
Shemel hopped out the shower, heading back downstairs. He threw on a LRG shirt, some 501’s, and his Puma’s he had just copped from the mall. After throwing his freshly twisted dreads in a bun, he sprayed on some cologne and grabbed his gun from under the couch seat. He never had it out openly because his mama would flip out. She knew the life he was trying to stray away from, but wouldn’t dare encourage it. Shemel was her youngest, and she desperately wanted him to go a different route than his older siblings and cousins, as well as her brothers. Every single one of them had been in
the streets at some point in their life and were either still in ‘em, dead, or in jail. To her, that was the only way out.
“Aye ma! I’m bouta make some moves real quick. What time the party start again?” he said, throwing his coat on. It was the beginning of January and it was colder than that thang outside.
“Two o’clock, and you better not be late. Don’t forget you have to pick the cake and gift up from Mrs. McQueen’s house,” she said, placing the bacon wrapped smokies in the oven.
“Dang ma. Why can’t Omar pick it up? I got stuff to do.” he asked, referring to his older brother.
“Bye Shemel. See you at two,” she said, ignoring his question.
He looked at the time on his phone and nodded. He had about four hours to handle business for himself, then take care of his mama’s requests. He hopped in his Yukon, after responding to a few folks’ text messages, and pulled off. It didn’t matter how early it was or what day; his phone was forever ringing off the hook. If it wasn’t customers tryna catch their next high, it was promoters in his email asking him to do a show. He and his family were well known in St. Louis, but Shemel wanted to be known worldwide. He had bigger dreams than selling drugs, but he was surrounded by the lifestyle, and it was hard to shake.
His best friend since childhood was heavy in the game, like the rest of his family, and he had no plans of retiring. It was all he knew. Pierre was all for his boy making it big in the rap game, and supported him no doubt. Only thing he hated was Shemel leaving the streets. He knew shit wouldn’t be sweet trying to get out, especially with the way Mel was getting it, but he was going to have his back with whatever decision he made.