𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
______________________________
❝To let you get away is crazy.❞
Devyn is a young woman who is pursuing a career in education while keeping her wealth a secret. After leaving work one day, she accidenta...
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December 24th, 1995 Oakland, California Devyn
I knock on the door and wait outside, the cool air breezing past me, making me shiver. I should have worn something warmer, but I decided to look cute since I'm at Malik's house. When no one answers, I knock again. Malik had called earlier, wanting to spend Christmas with me. So, before I left, I stole a bottle of gin from my dad's stash. I was surprised when Malik called me; I thought he would prefer to be alone with Vanessa.
The door swings open, and Malik immediately pulls me inside, greeting me with a longing kiss and wrapping his arms tightly around me. I giggle at his suddenness and kiss him back. "Hey, baby," he whispers in my ear.
He takes the bottle from my hand and examines it then looks back at me. "Damn, Devyn, this is some top-shelf shit. How you pay for this?" he questions.
"I know some people," I say, taking it from his hand, "Sit while I pour us some drinks."
He playfully holds his hands up and sits down on the couch as I walk to the kitchen. I notice that the house is quiet as I'm preparing cocktails for us. So, I raise my voice to ask, "Where is Vanessa?"
"With her mom! She wanted to spend her first Christmas with Vanessa so I let her go."
I still haven't met Vanessa's mother. I don't think I really want to. I imagine her being those mean "hoochie mamas" my mom would tell me to stay away from. He seems like the type to cuddle under someone like that; someone ghetto, loud-mouthed, and grew up in the hood all her life. Someone not like me.
He told me about her trying to get back with him. For some reason, it reminds me of Kimberly. Her situation is kind of similar now that I think about it. But I shouldn't even care; we aren't friends.
Carefully walking into the kitchen, I carry two drinks in my hands, trying to keep them steady. Malik grabs one before it spills and takes a sip. "You put the alcohol in it, right?" he asks.
I nod, and he continues, "I can barely taste it."
"Those are the best ones!"
Before I know it, we're sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, drunk, and talking about whatever nonsense comes to mind. "You never told me how you grew up," Malik says. "I feel like you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you."
I turn to him, meeting his cute drunken gaze. I stay silent as I look at him, thinking of a good lie to come up with, but nothing comes to mind. "My life isn't interesting," I say, shrugging it off.
"I don't care," he interjects, "I want to hear how boring it is. Why are you an education major?"
I smile, already knowing my answer. "As a kid, I always loved learning and being around other people. I appreciated my teachers too. They made me want to be just like them," I explain with a big smile. "I want to influence a kid's life just like they did mine."
