Whoever said 'preacher's kids are the worst' obviously haven't met Beyoncé Knowles or maybe they have because when the bad boy Shawn Carter aka Jay-z comes to town he turns this good girl into her parents worst nightmare. She starts falling for his...
"Beyoncé," she answered, damn, just when I thought there were no fine hoes in the south here she comes; light-toned, sandy brown hair and a pretty face of freckles.
We just stared at each other after we had introduced ourselves.
"Here's your things!" The cashier gave her the bag as she took it and rushed by me and the guys and out of the store she disappeared, just like that.
The guys all started laughing as I paid for my things.
"Man, you ain't never gon get that, that's Beyoncé the preacher daughter." my cousin Bryshere cackled.
"For real bitch pussy probably taste like bible pages and holy water." another one of the guys joked.
I shook my head collecting the drink and cigarettes I brought "y'all niggas need to have faith in ya boy, ya feel! Us niggas out in New York do it differently than you country boys."
Bryshere smacked his lips "here he go!"
"I'm serious, watch she be mine, by the end of this month." I bet.
"Nah! Boy, you big trippin' but I need some money, so I'll bet $50 that you ain't gon get her by the end of this month. She one of those Jesus-freaks its gon take a ring and heavy praying to pull someone like that."
"Then thou father that art in heaven hallowed be thy name nigga." I joked by pretending to pray as they laughed along while we exited the store to Bryshere's moms' crib. Where I was staying till the case in Brooklyn died down.
Of course, Aunt Tori didn't mind me crashing at her place; I was like a third son to her. In between Bryshere and Wyatt who we call Whitey since he has albinism—we all had nicknames though mine was Jay cuz my feet always stayed fresh with a pair of Jordans. Bryshere was Yaz. Even Aunt Tori, whose real name was Natori had a nickname.
I don't know if it was a hood thing or just a Black thing but everyone had nicknames.
"Man! You gon have to pull those up a lil if you going to church," Whitey suggested, days later.
"If I pull 'em up they gon be flooded," I said while standing in the mirror fixing myself up—Yaz had let me borrow some of his clothes, but the nigga was a midget compared to me.
"It's not my fault you the jolly green giant." he laughed.
"I don't know about the 'jolly' part," Whitey added.
"Well, if he wanna get this chick he better be the jolliest nigga in all of Houston," Yaz replied.
"Who he tryna run game on again?"
"The preacher kid... the oldest one."
"Ah! Man hell nah that whole family been on some nut shit since the brother died. They be in there performing exorcisms and shit... you better driving down to a corner and picking up a hoochie."
I dust off my shoulders then brushed my fade as they swarmed around. Tryna give advice, but I haven't taken advice since I was 12 I'm 19 now.
"You look..." Yaz paused.
"-Like Steve Urkel nigga!" they both teased and laughed as I waved them off.
It took me almost an hour of driving around to find the church. That stood on the corner. It was crazy cuz a liquor store was just across the street from it. I got out adjusting my collar and smoothing my hair in the rearview mirror before locking my car and striding inside.
I sat in the back as the pastor was in the middle of a sermon. His green eyes lock on me as I looked away.
The funny thing was that this church looked better than half these homes in the neighborhood and it was bigger than most the homes too—I saw like 10 homeless motherfuckers on my way over here just imagine if they turned this place to a home for them and others like them.
"Looks like we have a new member." I heard an older lady whisper to the next as they both then glanced back at me as I waved.
That's when I saw her; Beyoncé she stood up not noticing me as she joined the others on stage to sing—her voice sounded amazing like on some Whitney Houston, Patti Labelle type shit.
I licked my lips as we made eye contact.
Then stood as a lady called everyone to the back for food and by that she meant a whole meal; baked chicken, green beans, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and a slice of pound cake, sugar cookies, and any drink of our choice.
Motherfuckers who didn't even attend church started showing up for the food.
I got my plate and walked in line as I saw Bey behind the table helping prepare plates.
"Do you want a cake or a cookie?" She questioned, pausing when she looked up noticing me standing before her.
"Surprise me!" I answered.
"Alright." She smiled putting a slice of cake on the plate, and we ended up talking after she was finer than I originally thought, damn! She had a big ass too must be cuz these cornbread meals they be having.
We sat in the yard of the church talking she smelled sweet and flowery like a field in early spring.
"I'm new here and I ain't gotta lot of family either which is why I came down here to Texas. Cuz my grandma suffering from stage four cancer, so we came out here visiting some hospitals. She likes sewing and shi-stuff, so I wanted to go buy her some fabric. But ion know my way around and I don't have anyone to show me."
I had created a whole lie about who I was.
"I will."
"Really?"
"Yeah, tomorrow after-work." she continued as I smiled.
"Aight!" I grinned.
"Call me Bey by the way."
"I was calling you that even before I knew it was your nickname," I admitted as she only smiled as I continued. "So can I get your number, so we can meet up or-"
"Uh, no, you can come by my job and pick me up," she said before writing the address on my hand with a blue pen she pulled from her pocket.
I stared at her as she wrote on me—man, she just didn't know how good-looking she was.
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A/N: Comment💬 Vote🌟 Add this story to your library📚 and share with your friends and followers.
For the people in the comments asking if she has a phone she does but she isn't the type of girl to give her phone number to a random person she just met.
