Every Little Thing

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Quentin and Terri love each other very much. But, their careers may soon get in each others way. (snippet of a larger work)

Submitted: May 06, 2017

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Submitted: May 06, 2017



Terri took one last look at the crowd, an onslaught of purplish-blue faces. It was all a blur. She floated above them all—in a haze—and in one fell swoop, she whipped her head down to her knees.

Her voluminous afro swept the misted sweat from her black boots. After a moment, she snapped backwards—her curls bouncing back into orbit around her darling black face—and exited the stage with electricity jolting through her veins.

She was filled with adrenaline. Her very blood boiled with liquid fire. Every gig gave her a rush. Every moment was met with an unquenchable thirst that could only be satiated by Quentin, a tall, dark drink of sweet, sweet water that she was none too partial to sipping from time-to-time.

He waded through the sea of faces and made his way to her side. His strong hands slipped through her thick, black curls and cupped the back of her head.

“You killed it, baby—” He said. “Just like always.”

Terri smiled that embarrassed smile that she always puts on when Quentin says something sweet. He always knows the right thing to say. Even when it’s the wrong thing.

Then, he put his arms around her and pulled her close to himself.

“Let’s get outta here—”

“Miss T!”

Terri stopped in her tracks at the mentioning of her name. She looked over her shoulder and noticed a very excited woman cutting through the crowd dragging a man behind her.

Quentin leaned down and brushed her hair back, then nuzzled his nose and lips against her ear.

“Listen,” he whispered. “We can ditch them—There’s still time—”
“Babe!” Terri squealed, placing her hand on Quentin’s chest and pushing him away.

“What? I’m serious!” he exclaimed with a wide grin.

“It’ll only take a minute,” she smiled.

In only seconds, the couple had made their way up to her.

“Me and my fiancé just love your music,” The young woman squeaked out, still holding tightly to the man’s hand.

“Your fiancé? Wow, when is the wedding?”

“December, actually!”

“Congratulations!” Terri responded.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much! I’m just so excited!”

“—But there’s one thing…”

Up until now, the man behind her had been a puppet on his fiancée’s brightly colored string of happiness. He was a—silent ornament, a token of her current excitement.

“We were just wondering…” he began. “If you’re not booked or anything—”

“Could you perform for us at our wedding?” The excited young bride blurted out.

Terri smiled brightly at the prospect of another gig—but before she could part her teeth to answer, Quentin answered for her.

“Where is it?”

“Well—We’re Belizean. So, it’s in Belize, of course—”

Quentin grew uneasy. A sense of overwhelming angst welled up in his dark brown eyes. He readied his mouth to decline their offer. But before he could, Terri intervened.

“Let me check my schedule and confer with my manager. I’ll get back to you in a few weeks—Okay?”

The woman hugged her smiling fiancé and thanked Terri profusely before being pulled away.

“You’re not seriously gonna take that gig, are you?”

“I’m just trying to stay open…” Terri replied. “This is my dream. You, of all people, should understand that…”

Quentin stood as still as the gathering darkness surrounding them backstage. A ghostly stream of indigo light fell across his silent face and intensified his silence.

Terri pressed her cheek into Quentin’s rigid arm and urged him to move. After a moment, he clenched his jaw and settled back into his previous demeanor—before the talks of Belize and of Terri being so far away. Then, he once more put his arm around her and escorted her out of La Pearla.


The night was windy and the air was cool. So, Terri hugged Quentin tightly. She clung to him underneath his black leather jacket and blushed at the warmth of his slender body.  Quentin hugged her back and for the faintest second, he closed his eyes and felt one with the raging fire surging through her electric soul.

He needed to take her somewhere warm and at this hour, there were only a handful of places to go if you wanted food, drink, and some Tunes. Percy’s was one of those places. It was a coffee shop, and it stayed open all hours of the night.

A thin cloud of incense smoke snaked through the dark air and except for the sharp screeching of sad horns coming from an old-timey jukebox placed squarely behind the counter, the place was quiet. Lovers with onyx skin hugged one another close and sat even closer in the booths throughout the tiny venue.

Percy knew just how to make people feel at home. And since it was a gift that not too many people in Harlem possessed, everyone was sure to show their gratitude by frequenting the place.

Upon entering, Quentin hugged Terri close and escorted her to a booth by the window. He wanted badly to say something about her invitation to Belize and after a moment of gathering his thoughts, he readied himself to say something but realized that he was too late.

He gazed down upon Terri and noticed that her eyes were closed. One of her slender arms was draped across his stomach and her head rested silently upon his sturdy chest.

He produced a wry smile and noted that it was too late to revive her with coffee. So, he ordered his own and sipped quietly whilst softly stroking her onyx curls.

© Copyright 2018 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.

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