Neon Red: Chapter 5

CW” Tree ransactiojn and use.

Low climbed a short flight of stairs, stopped at 7b, and banged on the screen door. Time was ticking, and at 4:15 am, sunrise was due in roughly forty-five minutes. Sliding to his house took thirty-five, no traffic. On a Tuesday, though, that morning commute was on its way.
“Fuck.” Low pounded on the steel mesh again and thanked god he answered.
“What’s up Low, c’mon on in.”
Paul pushed on the screen and allowed Low entry, peeking outside for a hot second. The boy was cagey and kept to himself.
Paul was against technology; he owned one cellphone. A flip burner. No email or social media presence. He was three hundred years old with soulful eyes to tell it, but physically remained a lanky seventeen-year-old.
“The boys are out tonight,” Low’s plug stated as three bolts clacked into place. “What you want, youngsta?”
“Half, and some wax, like usual.”
The white boy, er, man, sighed and marched through a compact kitchen. His joint was a tiny linoleum haven with coral walls and tiled counters.
“So listen, my supplier ain’t supplied, Low.”
“Is you for real?”
“Said they had a hiccup.” Paul opened the cabinet under the sink and yanked free Cali Kush, not even a half.
“This all I got. I can’t hit you with half right now. I got tourists I need to hustle, you feel me. I’ll give you an eighth, though. And throw in some edibles my old lady made.”
Low smacked his lips, but accepted the offer. “Aight, shit. I don’t got no choice.” Digging for cash, he knew there were others to call. A brotha needed that half. A muh’fucka smoked too much for a punk ass eighth.
At least there were some cookies for Max. Shorty didn’t smoke, but she liked edibles on occasion. With the sale finalized, they clapped palms and Low said, “I’mma hit you, stay up, blood.”
“Right, right.”
Low hit the exit and rushed downstairs. He slid behind the wheel and swapped goods for the forty-five, tucking it back under the seat.
“Ooooo cookies.”
“That shit potent, knowing Ulinda, so don’t go crazy.”
She laughed and shoved chips in her mouth. “Can we go now? I wanna relax.”
“We on the way.”
A thirty-minute journey was whittled down to twenty. He was ready to get in the house, smoke, and make Max holler. Plus, the pinkish horizon concerned him.
They were in the home stretch and zoomin’ down SW66th when Max tapped his shoulder.
“Low, ain’t that Teddie?”
“Where?!”
He slowed and peered through her window. Low didn’t have much of a view from where he lived. Directly across the street from his house was a soccer field. It belonged to the Korean church and was private property. But sure enough, Teddie was on the lawn doing flips.
Low punched the horn and swerved into his driveway. “I’ma kill him.”
“Be nice.”
“Hell nah.”
Without turning the car off, he slipped out and ran across the narrow avenue. “Have you lost your mind?! Get your hard-headed ass—it’s three in the morning and you flipping and shit. The neighbors finna call CPS!”
Teddie grimaced and jogged to the fence. “You told me to practice. That’s what I’m doi—“
“Booyyy, you lef—” Low fumed, pointing at the house. “You left Ashton alone?”
“No…” Teddie nibbled on his bottom lip and looked at the tree Ashton stood behind, peeking.
“Get the hell over here!” The boy smiled, mouth full of high-priced braces. They cost more than Low’s golds. “What’s wrong with you? Bring your behind on. Both y’all in it.”
Teddie snickered. “How do we get out?”
Low clapped his hands. “Don’t play with me. Theodore!”
They thought this shit was funny, and he didn’t find a ‘nere thing humorous. After they cleared the short chain link, Low shoved them across the street.
“Get in bed, now! And wash up too!”
Knucklehead one and two rushed for the door, grinning like they weren’t in trouble.
Teddie stopped and waved. “Hi, Max.”
“Hay, love,” she said, daring to be nice. “You stuck that last one, boy.”
“I did, huh?”
“Go’on,” Low shouted. It got them moving, and the moment they disappeared, he killed the engine. “You get everything?”
“Yeah. And you don’t have to yell.”
“Girl, I’ve been raising those boys for eight years, I’ma yell at they ass. And that little one, he gon’ give me a stroke.”
Max shook with mirth as he slammed the door and remotely closed the gate. They paced for the house, and she tried to show him the bright side.
“They’re growing young boys who will turn into men. Y’all will be inseparable.”
“Shit, we already are.” Low scrubbed Vapormaxx soles on the welcome mat and stepped over the threshold with his lady in tow.
Keeping it a hunnit, Max wasn’t his. Matter fact, he didn’t have a lady. No relationship to speak of. Just how he liked it. What they had, was a situationship. Mutual as fuck. Both parties carried baggage and neither wanted to unpack that shit. For various reasons.
“God, I love the way your house smells. It never gets old.”
Max recited the same line every. Single. Time. Low figured it was a compliment, and he could never receive too many of those. When it came to his home, yeah, he deserved some recognition. For time and money spent. Vaulted ceilings dressed in polished cherry planks and beams. Mid-century modern decor and foliage were his vibe of choice.
From the door, house plants greeted them, and as they trudged along the terracotta floor, he jotted mental notes. Pruning and watering were in order.
Low watched Max bank left and dash through a pair of doors leading to the master suite. He loved the privacy and sheer size of his room.
She hurried onward, hit a final louie, tossed goodies on his bed and ran for the bathroom. “I gotta peee.”
Low dropped his keys, phone, and lighters on the highboy dresser. His place smelled so good ‘cause he kept incense smoking. And not them cheap ass Wallyworld sticks, nah, his came from an online independent Afro shop.
Black Butter, Pattie Labelle, and Somili Rose stayed in rotation. The latter was his go-to at the moment. After Low sparked a roach, he slipped off his shoes.
“Whew, my bladder was full. Oooo that’s the Somali Rose.”
Max cleared the bed and dove into her purse. He knew she was about to spout some spiritual mess. In an effort to stop it, he stood on a grunt and aimed for the stereo system beside his dresser.
The master wasn’t small, by any means. But he packed it tight with more plants, a cal king, and a heavy oak number.
A four-bedroom with dual vanities, a sauna, and a sit-in shower would cost close to five million nowadays. Low was big-headed, even though he hadn’t paid for it. He was also proud of an enormous vinyl collection. Years’ worth of long-forgotten music followed him through the decades and filled four shelves.
As Low lifted the lid on an HMV stereogram—purchased in 1972—sage wafted.
“Annnnnd here she go.”
“Your energy is off, love. We gotta cleanse all this mess. I told you to get you some lavender and sage incense.”
She swirled that shit all in his face.
“I don’t believe in any of your new-age garbage, and you know this.”
“Don’t talk like that. See, and you wonder why all those bad spirits won’t get off you.” The scent was okay, but not better than his incense. “A daily smudge would do you good.”
“Break that down for me, baby.”
“Yup.”
He pulled free a winner and chuckled. Vinyl records almost died when compact discs emerged. Luckily, the former prevailed and made a hard comeback. Everybody and they mama released an album on vinyl. Which was good, ‘cause he liked the analog sound better. Low was a hip-hop head, and even Kendrick had ‘em. Though, sometimes, them oldies came in handy right on time.
After carefully pulling the record from its jacket, he placed it on the platter and dropped the needle. Teddy was a classic album, and Mr. Pendergrass set the mood quickly.
“Freak nasty!” Max yelled mid-giggle. “Mister penherass dowwwwwn… senior.”
Low crawled on the bed, observing Max bust down the weed and backwood. She dumped tobacco into an abalone shell and used her magical hands. The woman could roll. Her shit was tight and dry.
How she did it with those sexy nails was beyond him. Max ain’t even partake, then again, she had been rolling his blunts for ten years.
Irritated, Low reached and snatched her shades off. A rumbling growl was to be expected.
“You know damn well you can’t wear them up in here.”
Max scoffed, sealing with a pierced, pink devil. It was his personal hell on earth. “What is this? Cali Kush?”
“Yup.”
“I can taste it.”
Max was an old hippie type with weird habits. Face tattoos and piercings fit her personality. Come to find, she acquired most of it as an act of rebellion.
“Can you hurry up?” Low snarled.
He got nothing but her usual side-eye. “I will flush this down the toilet.”
“I’ll put you out, keep fucking with me.”
She laughed, pressing his nerves. “Here, damn! Rushing me.” Max frowned and threw the blunt at him. “I’ll be in the shower.”
Her little ass scooted off the mattress as Low lit the tip. The first drag did his soul right. Holding smoke, he slid on down to his back and attempted to unwind. Ten minutes and four hits later, he yearned for sweeter offerings.
Low snuffed his blunt in the ashtray and popped up. On his way towards heaven, he lost the durag and clothes. Her favorite soap and scent, which heavily resembled gardenia, ignited a violent brand of lust. Airy and floral, it drove him to madness many a night.
He needed it on his skin and in his lungs, helping the kush along.
With desire coiling in his gut, Low wrenched open the shower door.
“I’m tryin’ to wash up, now. Move!”
“Don’t be yelling at me,” Low snapped. “You in my house.”
“Ugh, your wound is still bruised.”
Headscarf on and body soaking wet, she was divinity in motion. The vision moved him forward until she slapped his shoulder.
“Ow! What you do that for?”
Max scrunched her nose. “Did it hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She slapped it again and laughed. Low was over her shit. As water streamed and steam billowed, he fell upon her. Supple and buoyant, her lips woke his shit right up.
He shivered, and she jumped, locking legs around him. Home was right here. Body to body, their tongues worked in sensual duality as Low gripped her ass.
Hands full, his dick jutted in anticipation, but their kisses never lasted long enough. Separation caused a pinprick of pain.
He dropped onto the tiled bench and kneaded her behind. “You finna sit on this dick?”
“Yeahhhh.” Max moaned and whined.
“You gonna be nice?”
“Mhmmm.” She nodded and grabbed his face. Her kiss traveled, leaving fire in its wake.
Cheek, jaw, and neck.
“I wanna taste, too. Can I have it, baby?” she whispered against the sensitive spot, just under his jawline. Low grunted in agreement, losing wits and sense.
Two hundred and sumn’ years was a long while to live and more than enough time to lie with any and everybody. Low wasn’t an amateur; he knew how this game was played and had been at it for generations.
He’d had countless companions, but not one had claimed his vein. Until he’d met Maxine.
Low never turned her down, never said no, but it wasn’t a thing.
In truth, vampires biting each other wasn’t normal unless mated.
Low didn’t care ‘bout none of that, ‘cause the shit was addicting. Fangs deep in his throat as her pussy hugged him close set a muh’fucka on the straight and narrow!
“Let me have it,” Max demanded, straddling him. She gripped his stiff shaft and positioned his blunt head right where he needed to be.
Low’s eyes slammed shut the moment her heat licked the tip. Max’s pink, silken walls teased, flexed, and soaked him good.
Lowering and sliding, she mewled.
Low’s fingers sank into her soft, plush hips. “Shi—”
“Fuuuucck,” Max cried. Tight and soul snatching, her pussy arrested him. His female sat on it from head to base and undulated.
His eyes sprang open, and he damn near came from the view. Shorty woulda been madddd pissed if he nutted, but she was a masterpiece. Head thrown back and sharp fangs running a hard line.
Her buttery skin adorned with art, shimmered under a dim blue glow.
“On me, baby, keep them eyes on me,” Low pleaded. She complied instantly. Unnatural, yet alluring, her gaze matched his.
Perfectly arched brows, thick lips, and high cheekbones came in second to her stunning stare. There was something dark behind the innocence. Max hated them, but he’d never see her point. Mismatched and dazzling, they drove him to want without ceasing.
One red and the other quicksilver.
“Damn,” he barked as she started moving like a starving succubus. “Come on now!”
Low smacked that ass, and Max yelped while her pussy bit back. It encased him and forced a motha fucka to beg. She wound and bound him. On fire for it, heaving and cussing, he held firm.
“You so pretty, Maxi. Look at you…all on this dick.” Low latched onto her luscious form and gritted his teeth, watching her body bounce nearly took him out. “Damn, you wet as fuck, shorty.”
“Oooo, shit, Low!”
Her head lulled forward, and motion grew vicious. Ass meeting pelvis and clapping, she put their natural-born speed to good use.
At her mercy, Low might as well be a toy. Perfect pussy, soft curves, large brown nipples, and a hammering pulse set him off.
He was about to nut.
“Ooooooo I’m ‘bouta squ—” Cutthroat and ruthless, skin glistening, Max danced on the dick, her scent thickened with the steam. Breathing clipped and belly jiggling as he loved, she whined. “Lowww! Right—oh dammmnn babyyyy!”
She hooked her claws into his arms, but he registered nothing as her mouth locked onto his jugular.
Fangs penetrated, knocking bones loose. She touched the depths of his cold, aching soul and set him free. Low erupted. From crown to sole, he quaked and drenched her beloved walls.
Truth be told, Max ran the show when they fucked. Whatever she say go. And as his toes curled, ass clenched, and eyes rolled yet again, she ruptured.
Squirting on his lap, Max drank her fill and screamed. Nut number two battered his senses. Low gasped for air and looped arms around her.
This here wasn’t planned, and they had no business sharing sheets. Her daddy would never approve, but god forbid Low let their situation go. Not for a second, an hour, or a day. This was worth the risk. Max was worth it. Maybe it was fucked up, but Low had long ago become reliant on these secret, stolen moments and refused to live without them.

Heeello. I hope y’all have had a good week and aren’t too stressed out, but I know how it is. Sometimes it can be hard to enjoy the little things like reading, writing, hiking, meditating, or gaming with everything the way it is, but we try, don’t we?
Y’all have taken those tiny moments and used them to read my stories. For that, I thank you. It means a lot. Y’all are the reason why I keep at it, cause you’re still here!
So, with that, let’s move on to the goods. SMUT. And yeah, this was a little taste of what Low and Max have. They are creeping, sneaking, and freaking, you hear me! Max got the heart of a lion, cause babbbyyyy, what? I ain’t set up like that. Ten years? A whole decade and some change? Hell to the nah nah nahhhh. They cute, though, and I adore them. They’re staying true to the game, and I can’t blame them.
Oh, one last tiny tidbit, the word female is used loosely in my vampire universe because they aren’t human. And some, not all, prefer male-female terms instead of woman-man. Anyhoooo, that’s it for now and please, as always, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, let me know! Have a great day, y’all. Stay well, stay hydrated, and STOP DOOM SCROLLING!

Neon Red: Chapter 3

What an unfortunate circumstance. Robbed, someone tried to rob him. For the first time in ten years, Elliot had to save Tracy’s life. Well, Hollister helped, too, and he appreciated fast thinking. On their toes and ready for battle. Best to have someone around who can defend his honor. Tracy would rather not engage in a fight, unless it was with a pen.
Mayhap a game of chess, but he wasn’t too good, truth be told. His father reigned as king in chess and often berated Tracy for losing so viciously.
As they puttered along, 826 -and putter was an apt description- Elliot drove like an old man. Granted, he was an old fellow. He stayed in the slow lane and kept it at sixty-five. Their trips always took longer than necessary. Tracy knew Elliot was only being safe, but good god, this was ridiculous. He should have been home by now.
They were on the highway, but dealing with Elliot, a fifteen-minute ride turned into twenty-five. Annnnd, it was 3 am, no one was on the road, save for three other cars that sped on by moments before.
“Thank you again, Elliot. You are a true marksman.”
“I didn’t even get to use my gun,” he said, sounding incredibly dejected.
“Maybe next—well, you know what? No.” Tracy shook his head. “I don’t want a next time.”
Elliot glanced at him and smirked. “You sure? It’ll give that old heart a jolt.”
“No, no. I hope to never go through something like that again.”
“Me either, I don’t wanna make getting stabbed a habit.”
“So, you said you’ve been hurt worse?”
Elliot nodded, keeping eyes on the road and two hands on the wheel like a seventy-year-old human named Henryetta, “Yeah, been stabbed. Set on fire, shot, disemboweled, and lost a leg once. Nearly got my head lopped off… You know, stuff like that.”
“Noooo, I don’t know.” Tracy scoffed. He couldn’t imagine any of it. “Dear god. You never disclosed such information before.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Fair enough.”
As silence settled in, Tracy took a gander at Elliot’s wound and gagged. The sight of so much blood was unappealing, even for a vampire. Seeping and oozing, glistening.
Was that white meat?
He dragged attention away from the hellish display and stared out the window instead. When 56th merged into Millers Street, hunger pangs returned, and with vengeance. They drove by an assortment of eateries, and his stomach howled. The long stretch of asphalt and stop lights became a new brand of torture.
Mr. Paella, Bamboo Miller, and McDonald’s—where Tracy would never eat, because he was vegan and not trashy—looked like a grand idea; he was starved.
“Are you hungry, Elliot?”
“Uh, sorta. I’m really tryna keep from throwing up right now.”
“Ohhh, does it hurt?”
“It tickles, Tracy.”
“Right, dumb question.” Checking on him with obvious reluctance, Tracy noted the sweat on Elliot’s brow. “You know? Jaya can stitch that for you.”
“No, no—”
“It’s the least I can do. She’s great with a needle and thread.”
Good thing he nodded; it was unlikely Elliot would make it home in this state. “We can have it sewn up and get you a pint.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He agreed just as they made a right onto 60th, where streets were narrow, and homes were shielded behind high brush. Each house, manse, or abode was gated and secure. Tracy loved this neighborhood and its timeless beauty. The homes were older, built in the early 2000s, but were charming, and his was no exception.
Elliot pushed a button on the remote on his keyring before reaching the gate. Tracy gave him free access to pretty much everything. After ten years, he trusted Elliot beyond measure. They’d gone so long without one hiccup.
Seconds later, thank god, they embarked on the roundabout drive and stopped at the front door.
“Finally,” Tracy grumbled.
“Something wrong with my driving?”
“No, no… I mean, if I required urgent care, I’d be dead, but great job.”
Hopping out with his backpack, Tracy heard Elliot chuckle, and he smirked. Being home felt nice, and when he walked in, he smelled a lovely aroma. Wine sauce and plant-based butter. From the foyer, Tracy swerved right, paced through the formal dining, and arrived in the kitchen.
“What do we have here?”
“I thought I heard the door,” Jaya said, stirring whatever bubbled and boiled on the stove.
“Chickpea and potato curry.”
“Wonderful, you are talented with a spoon, Jaya.”
The woman blushed, and he spun around. “Uhm, Elliot has suffered an inj—”
“Oh my god, Elliot.” Jaya dropped the spoon, snagged a dish towel off her shoulder, and wiped her hands. “Come here.”
“Hay.”
“Hi bud, how are—oooohhhh.” She flinched and examined the wound. “Got a deep one, huh?”
“Yeah, and I need to sit down.”
“Come, come.” After tugging Elliot along, Jaya placed him at the breakfast bar. “We’re gonna go in the bathroom first, and then, I’m gonna fix you right up.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You know better than to ma’am me.” She smacked him with the towel, slid behind Tracy, and smiled as he tried to take a bite. “Don’t you even think about it, mister.”
“Damn it.”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders drooped. “I’m gonna put my things in the office and—”
“Oh, uhm, Tracy? You had a visitor tonight.”
“I did?” His nerves rattled in a way. “Who?”
“Yeah, who?” Elliot asked, only with more suspicion. Jaya grabbed a fresh bottle of blood—not his, they were labeled—and offered it to the bodyguard.
“An auditor.”
“Shiiiit.” Tracy was unsettled. “Human, orrrr…”
“Monarchy.”
“Oh shitm,” he uttered again and nodded. “Okay. I’m— damn it. I am going to handle this.”
“I hope so. Have you been paying your taxes?” Jaya asked.
“Yeees.” He lied, the IRS, yes, he paid those on time. But the monarchy, no. And the thing was, he had a few years to make up for. Tracy may have seen this coming and chose to ignore it, being that he was far too busy. He had many things to worry about, and it wasn’t like the king needed money.
“I’m gonna get right on it.”
Spinning around, he nearly mowed down his daughter. “My god. Make some noise on your approach, child.”
“Sorry, what happened?” she asked. “I smell—” The girl side-stepped and shrugged. “What happened to Elliot? What happened to you?”
“I got stabbed.”
“What?!”
Tracy frowned. “Use your inside voice. What have I told you about being loud?”
“Leave her be, Tracy,” Jaya cut in.
“How did you get stabbed?” She looked back and gaped. “Dad, did someone try to kill you?”
“Apparently, they were trying to rob me.”
“Holy sh—shoot.”
“Cursing is boorish for a young lady. Why do I have to remind you of this every moment of every night?”
“Does it hurt?” his daughter asked, in an amused tone. A fiendish smile exposed her delight.
“Yes, it does.” Elliot was not enthused with her response.
“Jaya, are you gonna stitch him?”
“I sure am, you wanna watch?”
“Absolutely.”
Tracy rolled his eyes. How was the girl he raised obsessed with gore? “I’m going to freshen up and be in my office until supper is ready. Max, don’t poke at it.”
“Dad,” she huffed. “I’m not gonna poke it.”
“You poke everything.”
“I bet it’s squishy,” she said.
“You are not touching me,” Elliot interjected, “it’s on fire.”
Max laughed as Tracy took his leave.
Wheeling around, he departed and banked right. On a mission, he kept straight ahead, through formal living, and dashed down the hall. He loved the portraits straddling his path. There were various photos from the past and present. The passage of time is told through frozen memories. Vintage frames protected old, blurry black-and-whites. Maxine’s baby shoots, class photos, or candid snaps in color.
1.7 million was a lot for some, but in Miami, it was a drop in the bucket, and got you four bedrooms. Maybe three thousand square feet. Tracy had four thousand and owned the largest home in the neighborhood. He lived lavishly, with marble floors and twenty-foot ceilings.
At a dead end, he glared at the doors leading to his quarters, then to the left, and decided. His office beckoned. This shit was not going to be fun. On his way, he glanced in Max’s room and grunted. Slob. Clothes were scattered about, canvases on the floor, and old paint coated every surface.
He moved on with a sigh and entered his workspace. She got it earnestly. Tracy dropped his bag and closed the door. Papers swamped his desk, books lay on their backs, and leaned on shelves. The file cabinet wasn’t even closed. Folders cocked and protruded, daring to escape drawers.
Stress ailed him.
Tracy didn’t know where to begin, and his burden grew heavier when he opened the closet door. File boxes and overflowing plastic tubs screamed obscenities. Those were his finances. Somewhere in this mess was six years’ worth of financial garbage. Shit that made his brain explode lurked within the heap.
“Well, let’s get to it.”

At Jaya’s place—the guest house—Max stood behind his nurse and watched. Low sat on the bed bench while the lady worked with skilled hands.
“That shit went deep, bruh,” Max said. She stared in awe as his skin pulled with the thread.
“You think?” Low asked, clearly annoyed.
“I put a topical anesthetic on it. You shouldn’t feel anything.”
“I don’t, it’s not the first time I been skewered.”
Jaya’s Cinnamon gaze flared. “Is that so?”
“Nah, but it don’t never get easier.” He flinched, and Max winced. The asshole chuckled.
“That ain’t funny,” she scowled.
“It is to me.”
Max grimaced and mumbled, “You irritating, like hella bothersome.”
“Back at you, sir.”
She flipped him off and got a smile in return.
“I love how you two get along like angry siblings.”
Max coughed and gagged. “Don’t say that, Jaya!” Shivering, she glanced at Low who couldn’t have been more disgusted.
“Okay.” His nurse clipped the last stitch and said, “That should do it, kid. Let me dress it with some gauze, and you’ll be good to go.”
Making herself useful, Max snatched a pack of sterilized cotton stuff. The wound was nasty but healing already.
“You ain’t much older than me, Jaya.”
She shrugged. “Older is older.”
After handing the squares over, Ms. Burke slapped the material on a three-inch gash. Surgical tape was next.
“I am donezo, Elliot.”
“Can I put my shirt back on now?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
Low rotated his shoulder and nodded. “I think so.”
“By all means.” Jaya ripped off her gloves and sighed. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna need to take those out.”
“It’s good.” Low grabbed his shirt and winced again. Max grimaced at the brief display of distress. “I know how to do that. I done it a lot.”
“I can only imagine, you’re a big guy. You’ve undoubtedly seen your fair share of victories.”
He smiled in a hideous, flirtatious manner. But Jaya rolled her eyes and gathered trash.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Elliot!” Bouncing up, she smirked. “I’ll punch that shoulder in a heartbeat.”
He laughed then hissed. “I think the numbing agent is wearing off already.”
“That’s what yo ass get, bruh,” Max said, sneering. “Tryin’ to be a hero.”
“Shut the fuck up before I throw you through a window.”
“I heard that!” Jaya yelled from around the corner.
Vindication.
“Now.” Rolling her neck, Max twirled and followed the woman’s voice. She skipped into the galley-style food room and used innocence to get what she wanted. “Hay Jaya, can you make some scones? Blueb—”
“I know what kinda scones you want, honey. And yeah, it was on my to-do list.”
“Yessss.”
“Can’t believe somebody tried to steal Dad’s money.” She slid across the tile in her Ariel socks, plucked a pear from the fruit bowl, and hopped up on one of two countertops. Max bit into its flesh while Jaya twisted her ear.
“Get your ass off,” she slid down and laughed nervously cause it hurt, “my clean counter. Have you even taken a shower yet?”
“Hell nah, she cutting onions. Ol’ fonky ass.”
Max hissed too, but like a vampire, and snarled, “Mind your business. And yes, I did take a shower.”
“Doubtful.”
“Byyyyyyeeee Elliiiiiooot!”
He shot a narrowed gaze her way and smacked his lips. “Bruh, you buggin. See if I ever give your yappin ass another treat.”
“Fuck off, four eyes.”
The male was six-foot-three, and his waves nearly brushed the ceiling. He was a grown ass man but sensitive as hell. Low stomped his foot as Max chomped on her fruit.
“Why you always gotta go there?” he pouted. “You know how I feel about my weak eyesight. Man, Jaya, she ain’t right, that’s not okay. It’s a disability! You can’t say that.”
“You a crybaby, blood,” Max murmured.
He lunged, but hiding behind Jaya’s six-foot, thick frame saved her. “Boy, you better back up. Don’t touch my baby. Go on now, go home. You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
“For real,” Max agreed. She rolled the green to find a crisp, white, meaty part. “You look tired. Get some rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Low stalked out and slammed the door on his departure.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“I do not hate him.”
“You do, you’re like a pissy cat ready to scratch his eyes out.”
“He’s annoying, Jaya.” Scraping the core, she sucked on juice then ditched it’s corpse in the trash can. “He’s an elderly crotchety male whose favorite pastime is making me mad.”
“That’s cause you have a bad temper, Max.”
“I don’t, though.”
“You’re a terrible liar, too.”
She giggled, scurried from the kitchen, and hopped on Jaya’s bed.
“No feet on my bed!”
“I didn’t put my—”
“You did, I watched you do it.”
“You’re in the kitchen, how do you know?”
Falling into a cross-legged position, Max smiled and snagged the remote. “What have you been—gross. You and these god damn documentaries. It’s a sickness.”
“You want popcorn?”
“Yes.”
Docs were out, American Gangster was in. When the movie started, Max got nice and comfy. Per the norm, Jaya brought popcorn and hooch. Seagram’s Escapes were actually the best. Black Berry Fizz got them right every time. Just when Frank showed his face, Jaya chose to talk.
“I think you should get laid.”
Max dribbled and stabbed her with a side eye, “I am not talking about this with you. I can’t, it’s… ick. You changed my diapers.”
Jaya threw an arm around her and smiled. “Awww sweetheart, sex is natural. It’s healthy.”
“Oh, my god.” Max stared at the TV and nodded.
“It helps with stress and anger. If you can’t find a man, then hay, buy one.”
“What?! What do you mean?”
“From Adam and Eve, they have a great selection of toys.”
“Noooooo, Jaya, I am begging you, please. I love you and your concern. But I don’t need to get laid.”
Her only motherly figure observed in silence. Jaya’s lips pursed as she shrugged. “I suppose, but I’ll find you something cute anyway. I have a few recommendations.”
Max sipped her beer and snickered. Toys were nice, and she had a few, but little did this lady know they were useless, and no substitute for real peen. Skin to skin. Shit, Max was lucky as hell to get dick on the regular, even if its owner was forbidden.

Hello, y’all, I hope everyone is doing well, and your Tuesday is halfway through. I want to say thank you for the love this story is getting. It’s round two of trying to publish it. No one, and I mean, not a soul, read it on Vella. But, you’re here now, and I thank you! Onto chapter notes.
First of all, I already know y’all are going to hate Tracy, but when I wrote this, I felt as though his pov was important. Please, don’t skip his chapters; they will be needed later on.
This is an mmf paranormal romance first, yes. But it’s also a family drama filled with secrets, trauma, and healing generational wounds.
The person Max is has a lot to do with her father, and in the coming weeks, you’ll see why. If Max seems a tad childish, playful, and even annoying, that’s on purpose. This is only the beginning, and my favorite girl is in for some GROWING PAINS! So, sit tight, and enjoy the ride.
Oh, and one more thing, I wrote and finished this series about five or six years ago. I’ve written so many books since, and the universe in which this one exists is VAST. I’ll add notes as needed. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. And as always, thank you again. Have a wonderful week, y’all.