brown sugar.

the first chapter.

unedited & subject to change!

Shiloh

Another day, another dollar, but thank God it was finally Friday. I sighed in relief as I jotted down the final count of my drawer before turning to my coworker and friend, Ellie. She was babbling about her upcoming date with her husband, Jaime. Since she’d gotten married, her use of the word husband had increased significantly. But I couldn’t even be mad. If I reconnected with my childhood crush and got married within a year, I’d talk about him all the time too.

Since I started working at Brickston Bank two years ago, Ellie had been adamant about being married by the time she was 25. Luckily for her, it worked out. At that age, I thought I met “the one,” but I learned the hard way he wasn't the man I thought he was. Since then, marriage was the furthest thing from my mind, and so was a serious relationship. The way my dating life was going, I’d be lucky if I was married before 30, which was only three short years away.

While Ellie shared the details of her date tonight, I smiled and nodded. The way she lit up when she talked about Jaime made my heart swell. As sweet as Ellie was she deserves all the happiness in the world. Her skin flushed as she showed me the flowers he sent her today. Every Friday for the past year, he sent her calla lilies, and every time she acted surprised. It was disgustingly cute.  

“So how was your date?” she asked finally changing the subject, but honestly I’d rather listen to her talk about Jaime.

“It was…” I paused. “Interesting to say the least.”

Last night I went on a date with a guy I met on a dating app. What started out as something to do when I was bored, turned into me swiping right. After my last relationship, I promised myself I would play the field and not focus solely on one man. I had a bad habit of putting all of my eggs in one basket and was left heartbroken and looking foolish.

Ellie raised her brow and sighed. “What was wrong with him?”

“He was trying so hard to impress me that he ended up boring me. All night he talked about his career as a financial advisor.” I rolled my eyes before continuing, “Once I shared that I too work in the finance industry he took that as an opportunity to talk about stocks, bonds, investing...all things I didn’t necessarily want to talk about on a first date. You know?”

She nodded with a frown. “Yeah, I understand, Shi. Don’t get discouraged though. I’m sure your Prince Charming is closer than you think.”

I smiled at her innocence. Ellie was truly a hopeless romantic and it was adorable at times.

“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. There was no one even remotely close to being my Prince Charming

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked with wide eyes.

I hesitated before telling her the truth. “I’m going to an open mic night not too far from here.”

I’d been going to Ray’s a swanky lounge that held open mic nights every Friday and Saturday night. It was located in Roseville, a small town about 20 miles north of Washington, D.C. One night, I stumbled upon this cute little town when I got lost coming back from visiting a friend in Philly. Everything about this town made me feel magical.

“Oh, the same open mic night you go to every week, but won’t invite your dear friend? It’s because I’m White isn't it?”

“What? No.” I laughed. “I’m not comfortable sharing my poetry with friends and family yet.”

And that was the God’s honest truth. It took years for me to even reach a place where I wanted to share my poetry with anyone.

I grabbed her shoulder. “When I’m ready you’ll be the first to know.”

“I hope that day is soon. I’m dying to hear how talented my Shi is.” She pinched my cheeks and laughed.

After we retrieved our things, our manager and the security guard walked us to the door. While we walked to our cars, Ellie showed me the house she and Jaime were looking to buy. Right now, they were crammed in her studio apartment with her two cats. Jaime truly loved her because there was no way I would’ve sold my house in the suburbs to downsize and live in the city.

“Don’t forget to send outfit ideas for your date tonight. Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean we have to change our date night ritual.”

“A lot has changed over the last year, but our friendship is one thing that will remain the same.” With that, she hugged me tightly and we got in our cars.

Once I reached my condo, I killed the engine of my Honda Accord and headed inside. While slipping off my black suede flats, I hung my keys on the hook to the right of my front door. Like clockwork, my mother called for our weekly conversation — her mostly gossiping about the drama in our hometown.

“How was your week, Shi?” she asked after giving a rundown of her week.

“It was okay,” I replied as I walked down the hall to my bedroom.

She hummed before saying, “Guess who I ran into yesterday?”

While sitting at the foot of my bed, I rolled my eyes. Something told me she was about to mention the one person I asked her to never bring up.

“Greg.”

There was a long awkward pause. I felt the heat rising in my body at the mention of his name. If only my mama knew he wasn’t as perfect as he portrayed she wouldn't be working overtime to get us back together.

“Mama.” I groaned before putting the call on speaker.

“Listen, he asked for your number—”

“I know you didn’t...” I growled.

He blew up my phone for months before I finally got a new number. When my number changed he proceeded to stalk me by coming to my mama’s house every night. I was forced to quit my job and move from Richmond to D.C. Luckily, I was able to find a new job and buy a condo before having to file a restraining order.

“No, listen. I took his number and promised to pass it along. Shi, he looked so sad. Even after two years he still misses you.”

I rolled my eyes, again. This call had to end soon before I said something disrespectful to mama. There’s no way in hell I was going to call Greg. The last two years have been peaceful and stress-free why couldn’t mama see how much better my life was without him?

“Mama, please stop. I’m not taking his number nor am I calling him.”

“Fine! When you end up old and alone, don’t come crying to me.”

“I won’t,” I said before ending the call.

After taking a quick shower, I dressed in all black from the fedora that covered my brown shoulder length sister-locs, to the black knee-length boots on my feet. The fedora I wore every week provided a shield from the audience. Poetry was my way of dealing with my heartbreak. Before moving away, I wasn’t given the time or space to deal with Greg’s possessiveness and my lack of self-esteem. Between him damn near stalking me and my mother in my ear, it was hard for me to move on.

Ellie sent me a picture of the red dress she wore for her date and I replied with the same all-black attire I wore every week. I looked over my appearance once more before grabbing my red leather journal that held all my poetry.

During my ride to Ray’s, I replayed the conversation I had with my mother. It's like Greg had been watching me because every time he became an afterthought he popped up. Six months ago while I was home visiting Mama, he coincidentally stopped by her house. I know she told him I’d be in town, but to this day she still claims she had no idea he was coming by.

That was the last time I set foot in Richmond. I feel bad for going so long without seeing my mother, but until she fully came to terms with the fact that we were done, I couldn’t risk my mental and emotional health by going there.

A few minutes later, I arrived at Ray’s to a packed parking lot. I was later than usual due to my conversation with my mother and I hope that didn’t prevent me from signing up to perform. After parking my car, I walked to the front of the line. Since I was a regular, I had the luxury of skipping the line that snaked around the side of the building.

“Well if it isn't my favorite poet,” Melvin, the bouncer said, as he motioned me to walk through the door.

“Oh stop,” I replied while holding my head down. My cheeks flushed at his compliment. “You think Summer will let me sign up to perform tonight? I’m a few minutes late.”  

Melvin smiled before waving me off. “Of course she will. You're a favorite around here. She should be by the bar hurry up and catch her so she can add your name to the list.”

I nodded and held my journal close to my stomach. As I walked through the lounge, I looked around at everyone. People were drinking and smoking hookah while listening to the performer on stage. The vibe at Ray’s was always chill. Just like Melvin said, Summer was at the bar with her clipboard in hand. She smiled as soon as our eyes connected and she started writing.

“I just added your name!” she yelled over the sultry music. “I was beginning to think you weren't coming.”

“I was running behind tonight,” I yelled back.

“No worries. You’re up after Marq.”

Marq.

In the six months that he’d been performing here, he’d become a guilty pleasure of mine. There was something about his acoustic renditions of songs that ignited a fire within my soul. He had a special mystique that pulled me in like a magnet every time he entered the room. Whenever he performed, I hung on to his every word yearning for more. His voice was so deep that I felt my soul quiver as he spoke into the mic. One night we locked eyes and instantly I was lost in his smokey gray eyes, I felt he was looking directly into my soul.

The night we locked eyes was the most interaction we had. I was too shy to approach him and he seemed to have an unofficial fan club. Women flocked to the stage once he finished his performances taking turns fawning over him and I couldn’t blame them. He smiled and entertained them for a few before heading to the booth in the far left corner. When I performed, I did all I could to avoid looking in his direction, but I could still feel his eyes on me.

After the current performer finished their set, I ordered my usual— a pomegranate martini and got comfortable at the bar. While Marq adjusted the mic stand, I took a gulp of my drink. Tonight he wore a white button up covered by a leather jacket and a pair of black pants. His hair had grown out a bit since last week, but the sides were faded and his goatee looked like it was freshly trimmed encasing his full brown lips. There was a natural glow on his copper-colored skin that couldn’t be ignored. When he was ready, he looked out into the crowd and smiled.

“Good evening, everybody. How y’all feeling?” His southern roots were evident in the drawl that escaped his lips every time he spoke. A few of the women in the audience screamed and he laughed lightly making my heart rate increase and mouth dry.

“How you feeling, baby?” a woman screamed causing the room to erupt into laughter.

A sexy smile spread across his face only making the woman scream louder. He sat on the stool and rested his guitar on his left thigh. I fidgeted in my seat as I unashamedly lusted over him.

“I’m feeling good.” His gravelly voice echoed throughout the silent lounge as all eyes were on him.

“Birds flying high, you know how I feel.” His fingers strummed the strings of the guitar as he hummed lowly into the mic. I adjusted in my seat as I unashamedly lusted over him. “Sun in the sky you know how I feel.”

While he performed all eyes were on him. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt his magnetic energy. By the time he finished singing, everyone was on their feet giving him a round of applause. I’m sure he would perform again before the night was over. Summer always asked people who received standing ovations to close out the night. I was already a ball of nerves and the praise he received only made my nervousness intensify. How could I follow that?

After downing the rest of my drink, I tipped the bartender and headed toward the stage. On the way there, I was greeted by other regulars who looked forward to my poems on a weekly basis. Originally, I planned on reciting a poem I wrote earlier in the week, but after my conversation with Mama, I wanted to do something I dedicated to Greg.

“Up next, we have the beautiful and tooth-achingly sweet, Shi!” Summer hugged me before walking off the stage.

“This piece is entitled Dear Ex-Lover.” I released a breath before looking straight ahead making sure I didn’t have direct eye contact with anyone. Marq was standing to my right with his arms folded over his chest. Quickly, I looked his way before adjusting the microphone stand. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to get lost in my words.

I am sorry

I am sorry for being too great…too worthy

I am sorry for being the perfect definition of beauty and resilience that it made you feel insecure

My presence made you feel that you had to break me

I am sorry

I’m sorry that with my light it made your shadow even darker

If we walked into a room together, no one ever saw you

I’m sorry you felt intimidated

I’m sorry you thought the other women would make me feel jealous

I am sorry that they will never amount to me

I’m sorry for the nights when you lay with her and you have to fight the urge of thinking of me

Please know that I am sincerely sorry for all of your miserable days

When I finished my poem, he was still there staring at me. Heat surrounded me when our eyes connected and he refused to look away. His lips parted as I walked down the steps and back into the crowd. Before he could say anything to me, one of his groupies grabbed his hand pulling him away. He looked back at me with a smile on his face and he winked before finally disappearing into the crowded lounge.

Shiloh Hurston, a 27-year-old bank teller, and poet, is left piecing the remnants of her heart back together after ending a volatile and unsatisfying relationship. During her sabbatical from love, she finds healing in performing poetry at Ray's, a lounge located in the small town of Roseville. What started out as an escape turned into a secret admiration for another performer and crowd favorite, Marquis Kent.

Marquis Kent, a 28-year-old carpenter, and reformed preacher's kid, is desperately in need of a fresh start, and moving from his hometown to Roseville was the first step to a new life. He too finds relief in performing acoustic covers of his favorite songs at Ray’s. His sultry voice paired with his southern charm made him a crowd favorite, including the person he least expected - Shiloh. 

To Marquis, Shiloh is the perfect woman who has it all together - a woman clearly out of his league. To Shiloh, Marquis is just another heartbreak waiting to happen, but she can no longer resist the temptation...

A serendipitous encounter opens their eyes to the realization that they have more in common than what meets the naked eye. But are they willing to put their apprehensions aside and explore what could be?