Savage Black was born and raised in Harlem, New York for half her life. After her father passes away from Parkinson's Disease, two months later her mother loses her job. Now at the age 21 struggling to make ends meet, Savage tries to make her dreams...
I waddle in a rush around my condo to get ready because I'm late for the dinner at my mom's. My meeting for my new book ran over time, so when I came home I couldn't even start dinner. I just put the seasoning on the turkey and plan on cooking it when I get to my mom's house. I'm already two hours behind.
I make my way to the door with the pan in my hand. I exit out the door, and lock up making my way down the hall to the elevator. Once I get to the garage, I unlock my Porsche and put the food in the passenger seat. As I get into the driver's seat, I buckle and crank the car as I turn on the heat. It's a cold December as it always is in New York. When you live in the city though, it tends to be much colder.
After an hour drive I finally reach West Village, my mother's new residence. She moved out of Harlem, shortly after her marriage. The nursing home where she works is not to far from where she lives now. She can actually walk if she wanted to.
"Mommy I'm home." I greet as I enter the house, closing the door with my foot.
"Where is every one?" I chuckle as I enter further into the house.
"Running late, as usual." My mom says as she exits the kitchen. I laugh and put my turkey into the oven. I'm glad I'm not the only one that's running late. I felt bad because when my mom says dinner is at a certain time, it's at that time. Yet black people are always late. My father use to say we'd be late to our own funeral. I still laugh at that.
I hear babbling and laughing from behind me, turning around to little Gabriel laughing. He's in his car seat, gnawing on his fingers as drool runs down his hand. My mother had him five months ago on my father's birthday, and he's just the cutest little thing. He's brown skin with black curly hair, his eyes are light brown like mine and he has a button nose. He took after our side of the family the most. He looks nothing like his father.
"Gabe." I coo, taking his little chunky self out the car seat. I kiss his chin making him laugh. My mom takes him from me, smiling from ear to ear as she holds him in her arms and kisses his temple. I lean on the counter and smile. My mother is finally happy again and it shows.
Around fifteen minutes, people finally start to arrive. Rochelle, Aunt Erika and her two boys, Eric and Arnez, a couple of my mom's friends from work and Farrell and his girl. I only invited him because I know his mother and Akibra aren't really on good terms. We had settled our differences finally and started up our friendship again.
As I talked to some of my family and friends, I talked about what I'm doing with my career now. I have two albums under my belt and my book is coming out next year. I've also talked to my mom about publishing some of my father's work, and she didn't mind. My father always wanted to publish his work as well, but never got the chance. So I thought I make his dream come true.
"Aye where the food at!" Desmond questions, entering the kitchen. Desmond is Aunt Erika's eldest son. He's annoying as hell but fun to be around.
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