Between the Raindrops

3) God Speaks

Present Day

Brooklyn, NY

Markyse studied the painting on his canvas carefully before dipping his brush in the brown paint, gently stroking the dark color over the curls that his muse proudly wore. Stella sat still, posing as if she were a mannequin.

"Are you almost done?" She questioned, growing weak in the arms. They were extended as if she were a ballerina. His piece of art was almost complete. In fact, he had finished the outline almost an hour ago. He enjoyed watching her posing for him.

"You could've put your arms down an hour ago," he chuckled, his voice pouring out like water. He couldn't hold his laugh in as her facial expression changed from cheeky to serious.

"Markyse are you serious?" She got up from the chair and began to approach the canvas.

"Stella, no," he bellowed, extending his arm out to keep her from walking past the wooden staircase. "You know how I feel about my work. No looks until I'm finished. It's bad luck."

"It's just me," she gushed, not able to hide her rosy cheeks as she glanced at his fully grown beard. This time last year he couldn't even get it to connect. She liked to pride herself on the growth, if you caught her drift. He was a gorgeous man. His once rough skin was now a beautiful chocolate hue of every single kiss of Hershey. It was almost like an entire bar was melted and implanted into his face. His long batty lashes hung over his eyelids like trees in the shade. His eyes like a galaxy full of stars. She instantly remembered what attracted her to him. Besides his personality, his looks were what topped it all. "It's a personal painting of me, why does it matter?"

"Because true beauty cannot be rushed," he smiled and continue to add the color onto the white board. "I should be done in an hour or so if you want to wait."

"Were going to your mom's house anyways," she recounted, causing Markyse to instantly remember. His head snapped up toward Stella, letting her know that he didn't remember. "Or did you forget."

How could he forget? It was all Tyla had been talking about for the past month. Her, Faye, and Levi were always hosting something at the house. Especially after she moved to Manhattan, Tyla always wanted her family to come and see how she was living now. Her two kids had been her motivation to turn her life around and become the business woman that she was today. She was able to go college and rack up her degrees. Now, she had something to show off. Her life was once in shambles, and in this current day and age, she didn't have the same story.

"Your mom is having the party," she says, trying to recollect his memory.

"I remember now," he sighed, gripping the brush tighter in his hand. He wanted to go and celebrate his mother's accomplishments, but he didn't feel like congregating. He didn't feel like repeating his current life story with people who only wanted to go back and repeat them to people who didn't like them. It was all a constant cycle. His moms family had their own issues, ones that he didn't necessarily want to deal with. On top of that, Hazel and Cynthia were coming too and there was always a competition of who were better parents.

That night almost nineteen years ago changed Markyse's life. He was faced with a tough decision that a four year old should not have to make. His biological father, Hazel, came and got him, returning to Cynthia's arms as she always wanted. Hazel was still the king of the city, reigning harder than ever before. His uncle, Markell, had been dealt with. He was a man of the past and once he was eliminated, Hazel and his son could live in peace.

During the time he lived with Tyla, Hazel and Cynthia went on to have twin girls a year later. She was happy with her beautiful girls, proud to be their mother. But Markyse was still apart of her life. Hazel made a promise to his wife. He was extremely in love with Tyla, but his wife would always come first. That was just law. He couldn't do it any other way. He had been supporting Tyla in one hand and pacifying his wife in the other. He didn't want to break either one's heart, but he knew what he had to do.