Supremely Yours, Nikki Pearl & Maceo: Red Ink Romance

By Butterfly Brooks

In this standalone, Nikki Pearl, one of the five Pennington sisters known as Seminole City's Finest, is an aspiring hair stylist growing up in the upper middle class community of Eutaw Gardens. Having dated her share of dope slinging hustlers, she has quit them cold turkey, looking forward to a new life without the concrete warriors.

 

Oh but whoa! Here comes the effervescently smooth Maceo Grant, the rebel middle child of the Grant clan and hood famous street pharmacist, CEO of a lucrative drug empire. She rejects his charms, staves him off for a fleeting moment, and ultimately succumbs to his charismatic power for he is nothing like her past dope boy companions. Yet, he still lives by the street soldier code and is entrenched in a life of crime. How will they forge their love in spite of this polarization of perspective? How long will it last? What are the passions and pains, tragedies and triumphs that drive them on their journey and found the love between them, the purest Love Supreme?

The Red Ink Romance Collection is a set of standalone novellas inspired by The Red Ink Saga, a two-part dramatic series available everywhere books are sold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Platinum Quill Publications
• Release date: Jan 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201216696

Butterfly Brooks

I write stories with My husband/My Qo~pilot in this Qosmic Qonspiracy Thaddeus Kane. He is The Spinner. I am The Weaver. We are The GenreBenders. I weave tales with Love, Light, Passion, Pain, Triumph, and Magic! I wrote my first story and my first poem at age seven and I was hooked! I am daughter, woman, wife, lover, mamma, writer, author, dilettante Black music historian, Spirit Woman guide, star reader gypsy, student, Lianesss, Butterfly, and emoticon addict, currently not enrolled in a 12 step program. I love poetry, parks, overcast days, autumn sunshine, yoga, sunsets, my Loving Ones, good movies, and good books. Subscribe to my website: ButterflyBrooks.com for the divine best of gift books, giveaways, sneak peeks, and online literary events. Swirl with Us: #ButterflyBrooks #BFlyB #ThaddeusKane #PlatinumQuill #GiftBooksGalore #TheWeaver #TheSpinner #TheGenreBenders #Pen2Pen #PensEquallyYoked

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Copyright 2021 Platinum Quill Publications

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the publisher. This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 16+

About the Author

Butterfly Brooks is an author, SpiritWoman, Flyin Lianesss, Love Warrior.

Dedication

This work is dedicated to all of those that are learning Love’s lessons.

Cover Design

Jess Purmeswar, SkyChild Graphic Studios

Acknowledgements

Eternal love and gratitude to all of those that love, support, and encourage creative fire. All of my mothers, fathers, children, family, and friends, especially Dora Louise, Verta Elizabeth, and Brenda Faye~ I love you, forever, for always.

Supreme Love and Gratitude to my pen sisters, Gina, Phoenix, Pamela, Serene, and Kimille. Your Love and encouragement empower me in my creative experience~ I Love you! Helen D. Clark-Speedy, Tera Kirksey, Rise Bullard, Sharon Armalin, Shavonna Futrell and all the Butterflies in The Kaleidoscope~ I Love you! Divine gratitude to the best artist, creative visionary, fairy of graphic design, the Galactically Gifted One, Jess The Supreme Best Purmeswar~ you are such a beautiful, powerful, extraordinary soul!

Chapter One

Love Strategies: No More Dope Slingers

Friday Night

The block played host to the tallest pine tree in Seminole City, sitting in the park on the corner, a commemorative effort by the neighborhood committee during the 1950's when Eutaw Gardens was first developed. The greedy builders planned to cut the tree down, wanting every single square inch to generate a profit. So hungry for the money, they started selling to folks before they finished building the thirty, six-bedroom colonials with lush lawns and gleaming white pillar porches. Unbeknownst to them, the 'uppity niggers' who were buying had conservationist proclivities and acted a plum fool with the city council until they got what they wanted. The tree stayed, an emblem of Seminole City's connection to their history, beauty, culture, and Mama Nature. Nikki Pearl, her sisters and all the neighborhood children spent countless days on the park's playground with the tree guarding them at the center of the half acre lot. She gazed at the tree now, eyes focusing on its highest branches, as she sat, exhausted by his voice and ready to exit the vehicle.

Why? She flipped the question at him with the force of an open hand slap.

I mean, you still fuckin' the nigga?

Why do you care? You gettin' on my nerves, Bryce.

Nik.

What. Not a question, a one-word expression of sheer disgust.

Look...

No, you look. You fuckin' whoever you want to. So can I. Eyes, bright and wide, flickered. Nicole 'Nikki' Pearl Pennington had enough of her dope slingin', soon to be ex-boyfriend Bryce and all the dope slingers before him. Change was nigh.

Damn, Nik.

Just forget this. She pulled the door handle of the Ford Bronco and Bryce held her by her shoulder, his alabaster fingers turning light red with angst.

Pink lips delivered his truth. I love you, Nicole. C'mon. Don't be this way. He pressed his hand deeper into her flesh, silky mocha sweetness naked to the night's moon rise glow. He caught her yellow sundress strap between his fingers.

Unmoved by his touch, she demanded, I just need to know if you're still gonna pay for Renee's prom?

I said I would. I will.

Then give me the money and let me go.

Oh, just like that. Money and you gone?

Bryce. Just... She thrust her body against the seat, beaded braids, adorned with brown and yellow feather clips, clicking against each other.

Damn. I mean I can't even get a goodbye kiss? 

She kissed him with a pursed pout.

Alright, Nik. Fine. He pulled out a knot of cash and gave it to her.

Thanks, Bryce. Have a good life. He smacked her behind as she left the truck. The delight of the jiggle tented his jeans. Some chick would have to be the recipient of his unrequited lust.

It's not over, Nik! he shouted.

She threw her hand in the air, dismissing his announcement and mumbled, Yeah, whatever nigga.

Once inside the house, she kicked her sandals off and put on her house slippers. She paused in the foyer of mahogany floors and looked at her reflection in the mirrored, ivory painted wall opposite the front door. To the left, the freshly polished wooden staircase creaked quietly from the brush of air following her entry while the fourteen-foot ceiling gathered the aroma of fried fish, tickling her nose.

Yum, she murmured.

Pearl? Is that you?

Yeah, Mama. Nikki entered the kitchen to Cecelia rising from her chair, moving toward the sink, wide hips in full sway under her royal blue silk robe, hair in pin curls. She pulled a plate from the cabinet as the night news droned from the TV set on the kitchen counter. Nikki dropped her purse on the seat in the breakfast nook. Cups with Deucey's logo and stacks of napkins rested on the table.

Y'all ate Deucey's?

Yeah. I'm gonna heat yours up now.

Mama, I'll get it.

No. You sit. I know you been movin' all day.

Mama, really...

Girl, hush. Sit. She prepared a plate while Nikki snuggled up at the table and thumbed through her mother's Sew World magazine. A page with a folded corner prompted extended observation of its content- a black strapless, gold sequin spangled gown with a modest train.

Mama, you makin' this dress? This thing is jammin'! Nikki held up the magazine for her mother to see.

I was thinking about it for Renee.

Nikki's stomach capsized. A hard swallow of air lodged in her chest. She heaved a deep sigh.

What? You don't like it? Cecelia placed the plate of fish, rice and collards in the microwave.

I love it. Did you show Renee?

No, not yet.

Clearly Renee had not told their mother that she wanted to buy her prom dress. She didn't want homemade, even though damn near every high school girl in their village had Ms. Pea make their dresses. Cecelia made a lot of their clothes, lovely outfits that put their 'Gucci Girl' classmates to shame. In spite of their extensive collections of designer threads, the Gucci snobs were always asking, Where'd you get that dress? Where'd you buy that hat? I haven't seen those jeans in the store or that jacket. Where did you find them? The Pennington girls gave their learned response, My mama designed it. Cecelia taught them to say, design, not made. 'Design' makes them respect the craft. She was right because once Wilfreda Melynn, the eldest of the sisters, turned thirteen and bust out in the baddest graduation dress at the Powhatan Middle School commencement ceremony, Ms. Pea was off to building a serious sewing empire, unlike any other in Seminole City. 

You think she will like it? Cecelia asked as she presented her daughter with her fish dinner and a forehead kiss. 

I know she will love it. It's gonna be ravishing.

Nikki blessed her food while Cecelia nestled across from her. They talked more about the dress, the world news, Seminole City politics, and Nikki's long day as a shampoo girl and assistant manager at Hair, Etc. the most popular salon in the city.

Nikki broached a sensitive subject. So, Ma.

Uh-oh. Here we go.

I know, Mama. But I need to make my money.

And I need you to go to school. Get your license and get your own shop. You know your daddy will help you.

I know. I am going to do all of that. I am enrolling next week. I filled out all the paperwork. Paid my deposit and everything.

What?

Yes.

Well, finally. Ha! Look at God. Her mother slapped the table five. Praise the Lord.

Okay, Mama. Dag.

Don't be daggin' me, girl. It's been too long comin'.

"I'm not daggin' you. She sipped her Deucey's sweet tea. My client will be here shortly."

Nikki Pearl. You know I don't like this late-night traffic in my house. I don't care about the separate entrance to the basement and how you clean up and how y'all don't make no noise. Girl...

C'mon, Mama. You know how I do. Ain't nothing gonna be outta place. Nothing touched in your shop. You know this.

Cecelia curled her mouth thinking about her daughter's points, the same points she made every time she had a late-night client. For Cecelia, all decent houses closed at a decent hour, especially houses filled with girls, five girls in the case of the Pennington sisters. Those were her rules, but she submitted to Nikki Pearl's entrepreneurial spirit on every occasion of clients who could only come at this time, Mama. As much as she didn't want anyone in her seamstress shop, housed in the basement, she always gave in. Fine, Pearl.

Ahhh, yes. Thank you, Mama. An air kiss from her lips to her mother's smiling cheek sealed the deal.

Deciding to make a cup of coffee, Cecelia returned to the kitchen counter, moving past the prep island in the center of the perfectly square galley of black and white tile flooring and coconut-colored cabinets. You think you need a cup of joe? Long night ahead.

You may as well make a pot. I will come back and get it. Thx, Mama.

Alrighty. When do you start class?

Next week.

Seriously?

Yes, Ma. I told you, I'm doin' it.

Yes, lawd.

Nikki swallowed the last of her fish while her mother set up the coffee machine. She cleared the table, hugged Cecelia, and skipped upstairs to see her little sister.

Knock! Knock!

C'mon in, Sister Pearl.

Nikki entered Renee's room. You so goofy.

What? Renee turned her head to the side, umber dimpled cheeks, radiating the baby of the family innocence, with a not so innocent smile.

"You and that Sister Pearl."

I'm so glad I was born last. I got the best name. She widened her grin and then dramatically dropped it into a sorrowful frown. And poor Sister Wilfreda. Lawd! What was Mama thinkin’?

She was in love with yo daddy, Nikki crowed referring to their father's name, Wilfred Pennington.

He's your daddy too, Pearl.

Whatever. Nikki tossed the roll of cash onto the bed, sky blue comforter receiving the currency with a folding wave of its fabric. There's the money for your dress. We can go to Laverne's in Mondawmin on Friday.

Ooo, Nik. You are the best big sister. Renee pushed up on her toes and twirled to her. She landed face to face, nose to nose, and plastered her cheeks with kisses while bundling her in a bear hug.

Nay-nay! You are the craziest li'l girl.

I know. I have coo-coo, boo-coo love for you, Pearl. Mwah! Renee rolled back on her heels taking in a full body view of Nikki, essentially an older, smidgen taller, thicker version of herself, short, brown, and round in the right places, just like their mama. One more lip smack on the cheek closed out her gratitude.

She returned to the bed to count the money. Five bills? Girl, I am going to be the belle of the ball. She plopped onto her bed. You still doin' my hair tonight?

Yes, Nay. I'm doin' your hair. Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes.

Okay, she gushed.

Be on time. I have other clients.

This late? You know Mama doesn't like when you have late nights.

Don't remind me.

Well, when you goin' to school?

Real soon. Like next week. I just made up my mind to do it. And I have the money. I'm not even asking, Ma. I been savin'.

For real? Renee rolled over on the bed kicking her feet like she was swimming. Ooo, Nik. How much? she asked, cupping her face in her hand, resting on her elbow.

You all in that. Nunya! 

C'mon, sister. Your secret's safe with me.

"You got your prom money. That's all you need to know. And never mind my business. When you gon' tell Mama you buying your dress?"

Umm...

Yeah. That's what you need to figure out.

Renee rolled over on the bed and slammed her hands down by her sides. I know. Argh! I'm gonna tell her.

Yeah. You better. And soon. Nikki pulled her purse on her shoulder and turned to leave, box braids made of her thick, wavy hereditary glory, dancing across her shoulders. I still don't see why you don't want her to make your dress. The one she is thinking of for you is baaad! I mean that sucka is sayin' sumpthin'.

For real? Renee sat straight up and flung her legs around, feet landing on the mahogany wood floor.

Yes.

Dag. I just wanted to get a dress from a shop, ya' know?

I do. But our Mama is the best. But you do ya thang, boo.

Yeah. Hmmm. Maybe I should look at Mama's dress first?

Maybe. Fifteen minutes, Nay.

Okay.

Renee watched her sister sashay up to the third floor, fantasizing about the perfect prom dress and thanking God for having a big sister like Nikki Pearl.

One Week Later

Friday

7:30 a.m.

Friday's arrival delighted her. The first week at Ron Thompson's Hair Academy proved challenging. Throughout her high school matriculation, Nikki Pearl had been the best of the B students, receiving an education from Seminole City Public Schools, one of the best school districts in the country, especially for Black children. She had sacrificed straight A's to be an avid reader, a kitchen table hair stylist, and the captain of Seminole City's Sizzlettes, the majorette squad of The Firebirds Marching Band which toured the nation, showcasing their handcrafted feather costumes, homegrown musicianship, and precision routines. Her B-student customs were in full effect during the hair academy instruction. She camouflaged her latest read inside the assigned textbook and daydreamed about mastering her finger wave technique. Even the flamboyance of the professor, Carlos McSweeney, with his two-piece polka dot pantsuit and white feather boa failed to distract her from envisioning the new pattern of waves she planned for her next customer. Yet, his hands-on lessons found her perfectly present and enjoying the practice. "Conjure