Page 13 of Verse Two
Brick placed a large hand on my thigh, causing my body to shiver involuntarily. “Whatdidyou sign up for?”
“To be a talent agent. I majored in public relations in college and gained a lot of experience and relationships in the entertainment industry through my internships. When I cameacross Maria, she wasn’t a star, but I knew she could be. I knew that if she got in front of the right people, shewouldbe. So we basically took a chance on each other, and it worked out for her.
“My former boss at my record label internship agreed to hear her sing, and as soon as he did, he was sold.”
“So she is where she is because you gave her the time of day? She should be worshipping the ground you walk on, Doll,” Brick said. The seriousness in his expression and anger in his voice made me smile.He really does love me.
“Well, that’s not the case. I had no clue that Maria was the type to let fame and money go to her head, but she definitely is. To make matters worse, she has trust issues and refuses to hire an entire team, which meant that I quickly fell intoeveryrole that needed to be filled. I’m her manager, agent, assistant, and therapist all wrapped into one. She pays me well for my services, and because she’s the only thing on my resume post-college, I feel like I’m stuck with her.”
We were both silent for a while.
“I’ve been feelin’ a lil stuck myself lately,” Brick finally said.
I glanced at him. “In your career?”
He nodded. “I make a lotta bread writing for artists, but the work is startin’ to feel soulless. I just got a check for writing a hit for a nigga I’on even respect. It don’t sit right with me, I can’t lie.”
I observed him silently. He was now staring blankly at the wall, and he looked deep in thought. After a while, I spoke up. “What would you like to be doin’ instead?”
He glanced at me. “I’on know what I would do if I wasn’t writin’. I love it.”
I nodded. “You just want it to matter again.”
His brow creased momentarily, and his head tilted as he continued to stare at me. Lightly, Brick grasped my waist andpulled me back down to his chest. I adjusted my body until it was flush against his, and he kissed me.
“That’s exactly it, Doll. I just want my shit to mean something, and not just because a label says it’s a hit. I miss writin’ real shit that felt like therapy, . . . like church.”
I lifted slightly and kissed his chin.
“That’s what ‘Sweetest Regret’sounds like. Do you ever get to write things like that anymore?”
“All the time. They just don’t get released ’cause I don’t have anybody to give ’em to. Everybody is in the market for club hits nowadays. Niggas ain’t tryna hear what I gotta say.”
I sat up again and swung my legs over the side of the bed before hopping off it.
“Where the hell you goin’, Dy?” Brixton asked as I hurried out of the room.
“Hold on!” I called as I went back to the other bedroom where he had placed my bags. I opened my carry-on suitcase and went straight to the bottom of it, retrieving the worn, black binder that I rarely went anywhere without. Brushing a hand across it, I smiled a little before taking it back into Brick’s bedroom and climbing on the bed beside him.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I said, opening the binder. “But I take this thing with me anytime I’m leaving home for a while. Some people smoke, drink, or listen to music when they get in their feelings, but I read this. It always makes me feel better.”
I handed him the binder, and he started reading the first page. It only took a second for understanding to wash over his face.
“The fuck would I laugh for, Dy? You kept these because you love a nigga. That shit got me feelin’ good as hell.”
I chuckled but said nothing as he continued to flip through it. The binder was full of everything he ever wrote me from elementary school up until the day I moved away.
They were more like poetry—orsongs—but he used to call them letters. The man always had a way with words, and healwaysused them to make my days better.
He continued flipping through the book until he made it to the back. My heart fluttered as I watched him admire it. There was a plastic page protector with a photo of us in it. We were in front of the funnel cake booth at the town fair. It was the only real date he ever took me on because my mother was hella strict. It was actually more of a group outing with some of our friends, so my mother knew nothing about my fast tail trying to be romantic with my man.
Above the picture was the letter he gave me on our date. With his eyes on the page, he began reading it out loud.
“You smile like the sun knows your name,like light was made just to follow your face. When you laugh, the world feels warmer,like spring bloomed early just in case.
“I call you doll ’cause you’re too perfect not to—not just ’cause you’re pretty, though that’s real too. It’s the way you care and the way you dream, how you make small things feel brand new.
“I’on got much, just this pen and a heart that beats kinda fast when you get close. But I’d write you a sky full of stars if I thought you’d read it and know what I meant most.”
