When a 22 year old wedding planner gets booked to plan a wedding for NBA star Ja Morant and his millionaire fiancée, she finds herself being the only thing from keeping them from saying, "I do." With family secrets and affairs, the woman has to try...
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"This wedding is going to be broadcasted all over media. We cannot screw this up," Kristen cheers. "This is gonna be so good for business. And it's all because of your sexy ass."
"Shut up," I chuckle, raising my wine glass. I just place it down without taking a sip.
"We got the gig, you can stop being so uptight. Y/n, live a little bruh."
"Look Kristy, I get that that's how you wanna live but I live my own way. Drinking and shaking ass ain't my kinda fun, but I'm not judging if it's yours."
"Okay, I'll respect that. But at least show a little more skin. Over here dressing like a sexy accountant. We at a club girl, take the coat off."
"For someone to take it? Hell no. This ain't my kinda scene."
It's not. The music isn't my kinda style. Everyone is high or drunk, or both. Some people cheating on their significant other, some people leaving with a one night stand they prolly gon impregnate and claim the baby ain't there's, somebody finna get robbed. People may think I'm just one uptight, preppy princess that's living off of daddy's money. But I'm not.
I'm from Sedville Chicago, Illinois. I had a daddy, but not much of one. He beat my mama until she almost died on our kitchen floor. He thought she bled to death, so he took off leaving me in the house with her. I asked mama why she stayed even though he beat her. She said it's because she had nothing. We had nothing. We lived in a two bedroom apartment with one bathroom and half a living room and barely a kitchen. I grew up on syrup sandwiches and spaghettiOs.
My mama woke up one day and decided she wasn't gonna be scared anymore. She wasn't gonna be weak. She got back on her feet, got her a job and I was homeschooled so I got one too. After I graduated, I started my own business of wedding planning, which was a rough start especially in this generation. But I promoted venue ideas and my wedding dress designs all over social media, and soon enough I was getting booked left and right, along with my bestie who pushed me to follow my dreams.
So yes I dress preppy. I don't drink or smoke. And that may seem like it's no fun to you, but for me, coming home to a peaceful house- that I got with my own money- and my two dogs seems like enough fun for me. There's more to life than partying. I like the soft life, not the lit one. And both lives are okay.
A guy comes over to our table, slurring on his words. I look him up and down as Kristen stares up at him with puppy eyes. He's looks like he just walked out of a NBA Youngboy music video, which is exactly her type. I don't judge but I do believe she can do a lot better than somebody who has a tattoo of a shoe on the side of his face, which is ugly by the way.
I've always stayed away from men. After seeing what that man did to my mama, it was hard to like anyone. Because on the outside my daddy was the perfect man- tall, waves, with style and confidence, but on the inside he was a woman beater with no love in his heart. So as much as I want my own love story, it's going to take more than a "wassup lil mama" to get my attention.
"I think we should go, Kristy," I tell her, and grab her hand. She shakes me off.
"He asked me to dance," she says with giggles.
"You're too drunk. You'll see him again if it's meant to be," I tell her, standing up. "Give her your number and I'll make sure she'll call you."
He nods and places his number in her phone.
"You're the worst friend ever," she says as I drag her out the club. She begins throwing up on the ground and I hold her braids out the way. Stumbling to carry her to the car, I fight my legs. Kristen is literally a stallion and I'm the pony who pretends it's a stallion. She's tall, and muscular and I've always envied that, and her confidence. We were raised by strong, flat footed, tall women. I never fit in, but they spoke nothing of it.
"You need help," a guy asks as he notices me struggling to keep her up.
"Please," I respond. He grabs her arm and pulls her body weight to him.
"You sober or do I need to call and Uber," he asks.
"I'm sober. Thanks for asking," I politely say as we approach my Kia. I unlock the door and he lays her across the seats. I look up at him, noticing his tall figure. His dreads cover his eyes but I can see his small smile in the dark.
"It's no problem. Take care of yourself ma," he responds, closing my car door.
"I will," I say, pulling out my wallet and grabbing a 20. I begin to hand it to him.
"Whatchu doing with that ma," he says, backing away.
"The least I can do is pay for your drink," I tell him, with pleading eyes. He shakes his head and tugs on the diamond chains on his neck.
"I think I can hold my own," he chuckles. "You're sweet though. Never lose that."
"Are you sure," I ask again, still holding the cash out. "Is there anything I can give you?l
"Your name," he replies. "Give me your name."
"It's Y/N."
"Well it's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Ja," he says, and we shake hands. "Don't let her drink this much again. Or at least have somebody with y'all. You looked like a little kid tryna carry they parent."
"Oh hush," I giggle. He moves his hair out of his face and I finally get to make eye contact. When our eyes meet, I notice the slight hint of sadness in his eyes. He doesn't break the contact, in fact he deepens it, by leaning lower down.
"Great game tonight 12," someone yells, which makes Ja snatch his head away.
"Preciate it, fam," he yells back. He looks back down at me and gives me a smile. "I hope to see you soon."
"Yeah," I say, as he opens the door for me. I smile and sit inside, putting the key in the ignition. "It was nice meeting you. Don't get too wild tonight, I don't know if there's gonna be a nice gentleman to carry you to your car."
He laughs.
"I'll be just fine. Goodnight, Y/N."
"Goodnight Ja." He gives me one more look before he closes the door. It was something about it. There was sadness, there was regret and overall there was desperation. As I pull out the parking lot, I watch as his tall frame enters the club. I wonder why he didn't ask for my number or even my instagram. Not even being cocky, but to look at me the way he did and not make a move, could only mean one thing.
