Thicc Thighs & Pumpkin Pies

Chapter 1

Zuri

The sun wakes me. It filters into my living room through cracks in the drapes that hang heavily across the small and slightly dirty windows. 

I can't believe I fell asleep in front of the TV again, I think to myself with slight disdain as I lift my body off the uncomfortable couch. 

 I've had this couch for about five years, and it wasn't new when I got it. It’s an ugly shade of green and it is lumpy with several broken springs. 

Before I can continue contemplating the ugliness and general uselessness of my couch, my phone buzzes. 

It's the first, what did you expect? 

I don’t even need to look at my phone to know that the messages, there has to be about five of them by now, are from Rick, my landlord. I paid some of my rent yesterday, with a half-hearted promise that I'd have the rest today. I don't think he believed me. And unfortunately for both of us, there is no way I'm going to be able to do that. 

“Well,” I mutter to myself. “Live and let live. Everybody is in major debt and in hawk up to their eyeballs at least once in their lives.”

But I know that isn't true. And it is especially not true of someone from my family. My entire family is extremely successful while the only thing I own is a lumpy old couch. 

The only thing that is capable of cheering me up right now is fresh coffee, and right now it is the only thing I allow myself to splurge on. 

Thinking about my family must have conjured up some juju because my phone buzzes again, and when I look at the messages there are several messages in the family group chat. 

The messages are from my mother, inviting all of us to brunch in an hour. 

“Well,” I sigh to myself, “at least I'll get a free lunch.” Even though I know this brunch is probably going to be painful and just another way for my mom and dad to drag me back into the family business. Then I head for the bedroom to get ready. I need to shower and grab my bag of hair supplies on my way to the bathroom. After I shower and shave and slather myself in baby oil and lotion I pull on a robe and then I pull my bonnet off. 

I sigh as I sit down heavily on the squeaky chair in front of my mirror and look at my hair. Despite everything I've been going through with my finances, I have always prioritized keeping my hair healthy and looking good. My mother spent my childhood making sure I knew my hair was my crown, and that I couldn't go out looking crazy. 

So when I reach into my bag of hair supplies I actually feel excited. 

“I may be poor, but at least I'll look good."

That is such a fucking Carrie Bradshaw thing to say, I think to myself.

I got fake locs installed about two weeks ago, and my roots look fuzzy and need to be refreshed. 

After a spritzing my scalp and the locs liberally with water I use a couple pumps of mousse, use gels and a toothbrush on my edges, and ensure there aren't any flyaway's. 

“Oh shit.” My phone buzzes again, reminding me that brunch will be on the table in twenty minutes. 

“How has it been almost an hour already?” I murmur to myself frantically as I add more lotion to my legs and arms, and then find a dress and pair of sandals. 

I grab my bag once I'm dressed and then head for the bedroom window so that I can down the fire escape and avoid Rick. 

If he saw me looking like this, I'd be evicted in a minute, I think grimly to myself. He already thinks I've spent thousands of dollars on my car. 

The Chevy SUV that I am driving is still brand-new, and was a gift from my dad. He also pays the insurance on it. 

My parents may not be able to get me to stay at home, or stay in the family business, but they sure as hell weren't going to let me drive a beat-up old thing. 

The drive to my parents’ home is nerve wracking. All I can think of, as I navigate Chicago's windy, brittle streets, is the fact that I left the family business to start my own business and now I'm in such a big financial hole that there seems to be no way out. 

I arrive just in time to sit down for brunch, although I know my mom will still consider that tardiness. 

“Hey baby,” instead of reprimanding me, she pulls me into a warm hug. She looks as beautiful and as elegant as ever, and I feel relieved that I decided to look good today. “How are you? You've lost weight! Come, have some of this bread that Maria baked.”

I let her lead me to the table, where my father and younger cousin, Aaliyah sits. 

“Hey everyone.” My mother, in her usual magical way, conjures up a full plate of food and places it in front of me. 

I wait for my dad to say grace before I dig in. 

Brunch is as it always is. But despite being happy to see my parents, I can't help but feel disappointed in myself for not being able to boast about good news. 

Because I know that is all my parents want. 

“How are you really doing baby?” My mother asks me directly, after I've finished my second helping. Maria, who was my nanny when I was a baby, places a huge slice of sweet potato pie in front of me. 

I want to lie and say that everything is okay. But today I don’t have the strength. 

“Things are crap really.” My voice is blunt and my parents look shocked at my honesty. I know they were expecting me to sugarcoat things. 

“I haven't gotten any business and I'm struggling to pay rent, and I can't even put gas in my car to get to events, even if my company were hired.”

“Oh baby,” my mother's voice is soft and full of pity. I know what she's about to say next.

“I don't want any help. I just want to do this on my own. Okay? Anyway, I should go, I have a meeting with a prospective client.”

And then I'm out the door, before Maria can even wrap up my slice of pie. 

***

I wasn't lying to my parents. I did have a meeting with a prospective client after brunch. 

And instead of it being a steady, productive meeting, I end up having to plan an entire team building event for a local company.

Now, I stand in a field which hasn't recovered from winter and is covered in mud, while a bunch of people in suits and ties try to win a game of tug o' war. 

I decide to walk back to the tent, where a table is set up with warm drinks and food and I pour myself a cup of mediocre coffee. 

I can’t help overhearing the conversation from two women who have shirked the teambuilding exercises. 

“... heard it yesterday. Hunter needs to get married soon or else.”

I dismiss the gossip because I don't know Hunter or why his love life is an important topic of discussion. I finish my coffee and dismiss the group wondering why Hunter needs to get married so urgently.