❝dreams, i wonder what those are like❞

𝐓𝐖𝐎

Gloria's was a small diner nestled on the corner of 45th and Pleasant Avenue.

It was right over the bridge, right into Black's slice of his empire that ruled the Bronx - or at least a good part of it. His name carried the weight of his vices on its shoulders, his name - and face preceding him wherever he went. Proof of his reputation were the lingering eyes that watched us as we drove down the block, their eyes seemingly ready to pop out of their heads, surprised looks across their faces. Black was like a mythical creature, an urban legend - one that parents warned their kids of at bedtime or on camping trips.

The magnitude of his presence was even more obvious from the curious onlookers that watched us as we pulled up in the small parking lot attached to the diner.

Black was a Bronx celebrity - for lack of a better word.

The normal hustle and bustle came to a screeching halt as Black opened the door for me, the bells hanging above the door altering everybody to our entrance. His energy seemed to suck the air out of everyone's lungs, but none of it seemed to bother him. He played it cool, oblivious to the attention he gathered as he wrapped his strong arm over my shoulders, flashing a smile to the woman at the counter. He guided me to our usual table, a booth located in a secluded, quiet corner of the diner, right up next to one of the many windows.

Black and I ate at Gloria's all the time. Almost every time we spent time together, we ended up here. I celebrated my birthdays, special events, and practically everything here. I spent so much time here I even remember losing one of my baby teeth eating one of Gloria's famous burgers.

But even then, I never got used to the attention Black - and by extension - I pulled whenever we ate here. I was oblivious to it as a little girl, and was initially confused by it when I was in middle school, but it all ended up making sense for me when I became a teenager. At that point, I could no longer ignore the hushed whispers from patrons, and their probing, judging eyes. I could only imagine what they said whenever we came up in casual conversation.

The sun was dipping down over the horizon, nighttime slowly creeping in as the bright lights illuminated the streets beyond the windows, the city seeming to come even more alive. The rain was long gone, leaving puddles of water behind that filled the street's many potholes. As soon as we sat down, a waitress came over to us, her smile bright, a pen and paper in hand. I could tell she was new, judging from her enthusiasm, and she took our orders, giving us the complete rundown on our menu.

"I'm not hungry," I shook my head, my appetite having vanished a while ago. I couldn't stop thinking about how that moment seemingly slipped through my fingers like that, and all because of a little rain. Sure, I believed in the universe's higher power, and that some things weren't meant to be, but for weeks I felt like that was something written in the stars for me. To see it gone in a matter of moments left me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and a heavy feeling in my chest. I just couldn't let it go that easily.

Black snickered, his eyes flickering from me to the waitress, unfazed by what I was saying. "She'll have the Scorpion burger, no tomatoes or onions. Put a little extra of that spicy ass sauce on there for her too, if it's not too much to ask. Just bring me a patty melt."

Black's smooth voice traveled from his lips to her ears, and she eagerly wrote everything he said down, paying close attention to every syllable he said. With everything written down, she repeated our orders back to us, confirming that she had everything right.

"Yeah, that's right," Black smiled at her, looking at the name tag attached to her shirt, "Tiffany."

"O-Okay," Tiffany stumbled over her words, "It'll be bringing that out shortly." Tiffany looked like she was around my age, with blonde and dark brown falling over her shoulders, dark skin, and glasses that kept sliding down her nose. She set down two straws from her apron, and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the two of us by ourselves.

"You watching your figure or something?" He teased, relaxing against the back of the seat, stretching his arms across the top of the booth. He pointed at me, "Cause when do you never want to eat? Don't tell me you been reading those white girl magazines?"

I rolled my eyes, resting my head against the window, feeling his piercing eyes staring me down. He chuckled to himself, but sighed when he realized he wasn't going to get the response from me that he was looking for. I just didn't have it in me, and my eyes were beginning to sting from me trying to keep my tears at bay. In my lap, I squeezed my hands into fists, trying to give my mind something else to focus on. I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I inhaled hard, wiping my eyes as a precaution.

"Emerald-"

Interrupting Black was Gloria bringing our food out, a warm smile etched across her face. "My two favorite customers in the world," she exaggerated, turning to me, "I put extra seasoning on the fries for you, Yara."

Gloria was a beautiful black woman in her early forties. With soft, hazel eyes and glowing, brown skin, she could easily pass for her thirties. She always had her long, black hair straightened, and it flowed freely over her shoulders, moving back and forth as she talked. Gloria's was passed down to her from her mom, and the both of them had a very tight knit relationship with Black. I think they grew up together.

"Thank you," I forced a smile as she set our food down, steam rising from the white and red patterned plates. Heat radiated from the plate as I pulled it closer to me, and Tiffany came out with our drinks, disappearing past Gloria to greet the new set of customers that wandered in.

"Of course, sweetie," She squeezed my shoulder gently before leaving the table, smiling at Black, "Let's catch up later, yeah?"

Gloria left the scent of citrus and flowers as she walked past, leaving the two of us alone to eat. We ate in silence until Black spoke up, my attention completely elsewhere. I barely even ate anything, picking at my burger and fries as my mind wandered with obsessive thoughts. It picked at me, telling me that I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, that I should've known better.

I'd just have to figure my life out some other way, the only issue was that I didn't know what the future held for me. I struggled to graduate high school because of my mom's issues, even with Black's help. It constantly felt like I was just barely getting by, and finally a chance at changing my life. Finally running away from this abyss, that seemed to be ready to swallow me up like quicksand.

"You got your essay? Let me read it."

I shifted my eyes away from the window and to Black, who tilted his head to the side, holding his hand out. "I know you got it. So let me read it, and you know I'm not taking no for an answer."

And that was true.

Reluctantly, I dug into my bag, unzipping the teal, weathered zipper. Everything I usually carried with me was there - a few library books, scrunchies spread out amongst my wallet, lip balm and lip gloss, and a small travel size bottle of lotion. Underneath everything was my paper, the papes now stiff from the rain, the words still smeared across the pages.

I should've tossed it into the trash when I got home. I should've burned it. I didn't have any use for it anymore, and keeping it around with me was just going to be a sour reminder of today.

As I handed it over to Black, I was tempted to yank my hand back, and almost like he was anticipating it, he slipped it from my hand quickly. "Not quick enough," he teased, scanning across the title page, unable to hide the smile that danced its way across his face.

"So, what's the paper about," he glanced at me before flipping the page.

I sighed, "Who you are, what your dreams are. What you'd do with the scholarship."

He nodded, his eyes darting over the pages. He seemed impressed, still smiling, even chuckling as read through my essay. I don't know why, but I didn't expect Black to be so willing and eager to read my paper. He had been in my life for so long, yet it still surprised me sometimes when he remembered my interests or things I liked to do.

I never knew my dad. My mom never talked about him, and I never asked. It wasn't like it was uncommon - a lot of the kids I grew up with didn't have dads in their lives. It's always just been my mom and I - and until Black started coming around I never noticed that I was lacking a father figure in my life. I figured that if I did have one, he might either be dead, or he just never cared to look for me in the first place.

It was hard to ask about or miss someone that wasn't there from the beginning, but the more I spent time with Black, sometimes it made me think about my dad.

I wondered what he looked like, sounded like. I wondered more often about what my life would look like if he was actually around. Would my mom still be on drugs? Or would we be one big, happy family, like in the movies?

But dreams are just that - dreams. They aren't real, just like the plot of a movie.

It was bittersweet, Black was the closest thing I'd probably ever have to a dad, and I think he knew, and that's probably why he cared so much about me. He was the only one that made an effort. The guys my mom sees could give less than a fuck about me, only concerned with getting their fix and if I was going to participate.

"Let's make a deal," he said, done reading my paper. He placed it off to the side, pushing his plate out of the way as he leaned towards me.

I raised my eyebrows, "What kind of deal?"

"You apply to a real school. I've seen your grades. I'll pay for whatever."

"Black-"

He interrupted me, shaking his head. "Emerald, don't start. You want a scholarship or whatever, right? This is your own, tax free, scholarship."

"I don't think you pay taxes on scholarships, Black."

He waved me off, continuing, "What they call it? A full ride? Whatever the fuck it is, I'll pay for everything."

Black's preposition hung in the air, his facial expression showing that he meant business. He grinned, knowing he had given me the best offer that I could only dream of. And he was right.

I didn't know what to say. College wasn't cheap. And I know Black had the money - but knowing he had that big expectation for me was unnerving. I didn't know if I had the smarts for that. I didn't know if I was ready for that - I always thought small with the things I wanted to do. I didn't even know what I wanted to go to school for. And after school? What would I do? I never gave that any thought.

Yet here Black was, telling me to dream big, and that he'll practically pave the way for me to do it.

"I-I.." I stumbled over my words, my mind blank. I was still trying to process what he proposed, and it seemed like a lot. But I'd be stupid not to accept his offer, right? And I knew that he wasn't going to take no for an answer, or even let me think the word no.

"Sounds like a yes to me," Black grinned, taking a sip from his Coke. "You can be so stubborn, damn. You gotta think twice about letting me pay for school but you'll let me pay for this necklace," He leaned over the table, flicking the necklace hanging just below my collarbone.

Black had given me this necklace a long time ago, for my fourteenth birthday. It was the most expensive thing I ever owned, made out of fourteen karat gold that spelled out my name, written in cursive with vibrant Colombian emeralds. I never took it off, and it never left my side. I was so afraid of losing it, I was always checking to see if it was around my neck.

"I like the necklace, what can I say?"

Black rolled his eyes, subtly shaking his head. He reached across the table, taking my hand in his, "I'm really glad you got your head on straight. Head in the clouds, nose in the books."

I knew what he meant without explicitly stating it - he was glad I hadn't turned out like my mother.

My mom wasn't always like that. She had me when she was seventeen years old, so we essentially grew up together. I used to call her my best friend. She'd do my hair or dress me up like a doll, and we'd go out for breakfast almost every weekend. But a series of unfortunate and stressful circumstances led her down the path she was on now.

It was sad, I think life simply reminded her of how ugly it could get, and she couldn't handle it.

It all started with my grandma passing. She was the one who called me Emerald - something about how when I was first born my eyes might've been green. It sounds like she made it up, but ever since, everyone called me Emerald. I used to spend summers at my grandma's house with my cousin almost every year. When I was ten, she got sick. Really sick.

My mom took her death hard. She was the only parent she had. Her dad had died when she was a baby, and it was just the three of them for the longest time - my uncle, my mom, and my grandma.

Coupled with her passing, my mom was starting a new job, here in New York. But she couldn't handle the stress of grieving, caring for me, and working.

Drugs made her forget, I guess.

My mom was strung out, the light and life in her eyes destroyed a long time ago by years of drug use and selling her body just to eat or get her next fix.

And then, Black had appeared.

I didn't know every detail of the relationship between him and my mother, but what I did know was that he's seen her at her worst. He tried to take care of her, of us. It bothered me, sometimes. I couldn't see it when I was younger, but as I got older, I realized what was going on between them. It was a hard pill to swallow, and sometimes, my mind would wander, wondering if Black's "care" had ulterior motives. Black had his demons, and his business. Everybody knew what he did - and sometimes I wondered if I was going to end up blindsided in the end.

I didn't like to think about it much, but I was beyond vulnerable. My mom could barely remember that I existed some days - and it was just the two of us. Sure, I was an adult, but I didn't really have anybody looking out for me. No family, no siblings. And my friends were concerned with their own lives, and after a while, I couldn't keep up with them anymore. My life was so unlike any other nineteen year old I knew, it made it hard to connect - and stay connected to people.

Without Black, I was pretty much alone.

And looking at my mom and what she was going through, I wondered if I was going to end up like that too, simply existing within the tight clutches of an addictive drug. Where I'd be without someone looking out for me.

"So, what are you going to be going to school for?"

I shrugged, admitting, "I never really thought about it.."

Black smiled, "Well, you got some time. I don't care what you do," he took one of my fries off my plate, biting it, "As long as you get a degree."

And in his own way, Black made me feel a bit better about the shitty day I had. I couldn't help but smile as he listed off all the things he thought I'd be good at, saying that I could probably find the cure for cancer, or be the next president if I wanted to. His blind faith in me was what I needed, and he always wanted me to reach for the stars.

"Oh, is she smiling?" His eyes widened, his mouth dropping in shock. "We finally got a smile y'all," he talked loudly, announcing it to the whole diner, who paid us no mind.

I only smiled harder, unable to fight the laughter that erupted from me.

"Now eat your food," he pushed my plate towards me, "You done let it get cold and shit."

Tiffany was making her rounds to her customers, and she came over to us, perky as ever, waiting to hear any feedback. "Y'all doing okay?" She asked, her eyes darting back and forth between us, eager to please. She had her hands clasped together in front of her, pen in her hand, ready for if we wanted to order anything else.

"Actually," Black handed her my plate, "Would you mind warming this back up for her?" He glanced over at me, slightly tilting the plate in my direction, "All of a sudden she had an appetite again."

Tiffany looked at us confused, Black's request probably unheard of. Her glossy lips were pulled back into her face, with her eyebrows raised, trying to process what he was asking. But regardless of what she thought, she still took the plate from his hands, telling us she'd be back in a moment.

"I hope you're going to tip her good enough," I took a sip of my fruit punch, setting the slippery glass back down on the table. All the condensation pooled at the bottom of the glass and onto the table, and I wiped it up with a napkin.

"Did you forget who I am?" He snickered.

By the time we left Gloria's, it was dark, the streets beginning to thin out. Everybody was tucked away into their homes, aside from the people walking home from work, and groups of teenagers hanging out, filling the streets with their loud conversations and laughter.

Black lived in one of the more expensive parts of the Bronx, at a spacious condo that overlooked the water. It was quiet over here, away from the sounds of car horns and the trains. The streets were wider, and people parked their cars in front of their houses and in their garage, short trees and fences giving them privacy from their neighbors.

He lived in a corner unit, which wasn't visible from the street. Under the street light, one of Black's guards sat watch in an all black BMW. The windows were tinted, almost completely blocking out the shape of them in the front seat, which made it difficult to tell if they were a man or a woman.

Black pulled into the driveway, leaving his car running as he passed me the keys to get inside. "Go ahead and go inside, I'll be right in," he told me, kneeling over into the car before closing the door behind him, and going over to talk to his associate.

I did as told, minding my business as I fumbled with my to-go box in my hand, adjusting the straps on my bookbag. The wind was blowing, cool, but slightly salty air from the ocean filling the area. In the distance, I could see boats docked a few ways away, gently swaying back and forth against the water.

Black's alarm chimed as I crossed the threshold into his place, and I kicked off my shoes at the door, lining them up against the wall before venturing further inside.

If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't think anybody lived here. Everything was clean from top to bottom, not a speck of dust in sight. With light wood cabinets, and granite countertops, everything in Black's place was a stark contrast from what my home looked like. It reminded me of an expensive hotel suite, everything having their own designated place, unmoved from the last time I was here.

His house was like my own sanctuary, my escape from my life across the bridge. I could think clearly here. I could actually breathe. Over here, I felt normal, like any other girl my age. Who's only worries were what show they were going to watch on tv and what they were going to have for dinner.

Leaving my bag on the gray, leather couch, I came over to the kitchen, finding a spot for my food to go in the fridge. It wasn't like I was going to have to move stuff around - Black didn't have much in his freezer in the first place. Aside from a few takeout boxes and two ice cold bottles of