Head Held High Read online

  HEAD HELD HIGH

  Butterfly Thomas

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2018 by the author

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re–sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

  Editing, print layout, e−book conversion, and cover design by DLD Books

  Editing and Self−Publishing Services

  www.dldbooks.com

  Cover photograph by Philbert Pembani

  https://www.pexels.com/photo/grayscale-photo-of-woman-posing-beside-the-wall-1098379/

  Prologue

  “Shya, when I’m gone, you need to take care of your brothers and listen to your daddy.”

  “That’s not my daddy,” Shya snapped.

  “Well, he married me and took care of you and your brothers and even stuck by me through the ups and downs of this disease, so that’s a daddy in my book,” her mother explained.

  Yeah, but them slick looks and comments when you ain’t listening ain’t, Shya thought.

  She shifted in her chair and grasped her mother’s hand. “Mommy, you recovered from lupus before, and you will this time.”

  “You heard what the doctors said this time, Shya. I let you stay in the room because I thought you were old enough to handle this.”

  “I am, Mommy,” Shya lied, as the tears fell from her eyes. “I’m just going to miss you. We all are.”

  “I know, baby,” her mother said, voice cracking. “You got to be strong for your brothers.”

  “I will, Mommy, but can we go live with Aunty in New York?”

  Her mother sighed exasperatedly. “Shya, we went over this. Your aunt is barely making it with the five kids she got. So what you think that gone do if I add three more to that? No, child, you will be fine here in Virginia, where you grew up.”

  Shya stiffened as the door opened and her stepfather stuck his head in the room. “Everything okay in here?” he questioned.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” her mom reported. “Just comforting my baby girl.”

  “Okay. Well, me and the boys are going to get something from the cafeteria to snack on. Y’all want something?”

  “No,” they both said.

  “I’m out,” he said as he pulled his head back and gently closed the door to the hospital room. Hawkins had a slight smirk on his face as he gathered the boys and took them down two floors on the elevator to get something to eat from the cafeteria.

  “Hawk is a good man, and he will take good care of you all,” Shya’s mom proclaimed.

  “Okay, Mommy, okay,” Shya relented as she climbed in the hospital bed with her mom.

  The bed began to shake as Shya’s thirteen–year–old body was racked with sobs. Her mom held her and patted her back periodically.

  “I love you, Mommy,” Shya cried with a voice thick with tears.

  Chapter 1

  Seven Years Later

  Shya put the finishing touches on the poem she had written for her creative writing elective as her stepfather, Darrius Hawkins, strode through her bedroom doorway. She turned away, quickly closing the document and shutting the laptop.

  Hawk cleared his throat as he stood in front of Shya’s desk. He didn’t start to speak until she looked up at him. “I have a new client for you,” he said.

  Shya remained silent.

  Hawk gave her the details of the job, and Shya pretended not to listen, though she knew her place and what she had to do for the family.

  After he left the room, Shya began mentally preparing herself for the upcoming task.

  Thank God I have a bathroom of my own, she thought.

  She grabbed a towel from the back of the chair and got busy getting fresh and clean in her shower. Several minutes later, she was toweling off and walking toward her dresser. A few spritzes of her favorite smell−good, and she opened her panty drawer. She picked out a pair and secured the matching bra. She then hurried over to the closet and looked through her special−occasion outfits. She fingered a sexy, short red dress, changed her mind, and continued perusing the clothes. She finally decided on a subtly elegant purple and black ensemble. She walked back to her dresser and looked in the mirror. She reached up and braided her sisterlocks into a tight French braid that reached her bra strap. She then opened her jewelry box and inserted the purple, diamond−studded butterflies in her earlobes.

  Hurrying over to her color−coordinated go bags, Shya checked her watch. Almost showtime, she thought. She grabbed the green (for newbie) bag and was on her way out the door.

  * * * * *

  Shya pulled up to the curb and opened her car door. A hand extended and helped her step out and onto the curb. She handed off her keys like a baton and received a ticket in exchange.

  Her suitor grasped her hand and tucked it in his arm. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.

  She smiled in response.

  The couple skirted the ropes and waltzed to the front of the line amidst the ogling of onlookers. The bouncer nodded at them as they made their way past the crowd and to the doors. Everyone turned to stare as they made their grand entrance.

  The DJ announced them over the punishing shots of Drake’s latest banger.

  “Here he is, ladies and gentlemen. The man who has made this all possible, the man of the hour, Talon!” The DJ let out a long whistle. “And who is this lovely lady on his arm?”

  Shya played her role to perfection, nodding and smiling at everyone in the club. Many were straining to figure out who she was. Talon and she continued to make their way toward the VIP section while he attempted to acknowledge the ballers and high rollers he knew, despite the loud music.

  Shya settled in the roomy chair across from Talon and immediately picked up one of the menus on the table.

  A skimpily clad waitress practically ran to the table to get their orders.

  Talon barely gave her a glance. “Not yet,” he said dismissively.

  “So, you don’t seem like the club type,” Shya attempted.

  “I’m not, but I am a businessman. Successful businessmen profit off what’s profitable. Look at me, Sophia.” He spoke softly, but his voice rang with command.

  It took Shya a second before she remembered the charade. Then she looked into his eyes.

  They held eye contact for a moment…two…three…before either of them spoke.

  “Tell me a little about yourself,” he asked. “I’ll order something interesting for both of us.”

  He tapped some buttons on the little screen set into the arm of his chair as Shya thought about what she would tell him.

  The beat pounded through the club, and she realized it was way too loud for a halfway decent conversation. She suggested they go somewhere slightly less likely to burst their eardrums or make them sound as if they had spent all day rooting for a losing NFL team.

  My apologies, he mouthed as he stood and offered his hand to her.

  She stood and clasped his hand, noticed the texture, slightly roughened, as if he did some of the work but not all.

  Talon navigated Shya past the many tables and chairs in the VIP section. He hooked a right, and around the corner was a door with a keypad. He tapped in the code and escorted her into the more secluded room.

  It must have been soundproofed, because none of the thumping club music penetrated the walls once the door was shut. In fact, Shya noticed some soft music playing.

  She glanced around and noticed sparse groupings of coffee tables, comfortable chairs, and c
ouples talking in low voices. This must be the real VIP room, she concluded.

  Talon guided her over to soft−looking wingback chairs set before a fireplace. The room was beautifully decorated for Christmas. In one of the corners was a tall, lit Christmas tree, decorated with traditional colors. Red and green ornaments with garlands of both colors swirled from top to bottom. Strategically placed candy canes were arranged between strings of popcorn and cranberries. Green and red Christmas bows, accented with hints of silver and white, were tastefully positioned around the room. A beautiful, shimmering silver light hung from the ceiling, casting as much shadow as it did light. Empty red, white, silver, and green stockings hung from the fireplace, waiting to be filled on Christmas Eve.

  Shya continued to admire the layout of the room even as she settled into her seat.

  “Are you nervous?” Talon asked.

  “A little,” she admitted. “Your place is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Now, I think you were about to tell me about yourself?”

  Shya always mixed some truth with her cover story, in order to remember better later on. “Well, I’m currently a college student. Undecided on my major, but that’s the norm for most college students.” She laughed. “I speak three languages, I—”

  “Prove it,” he interrupted.

  “Bonjour, buenos días, guten Tag,” she deadpanned.

  He chuckled. “Any sixth grader can do that.”

  “Hey, my point is made.” She smiled.

  Talon held his hands up. “You’re right.”

  They resumed their conversation, and the hours passed without them noticing.

  Talon’s watch chirped, and he glanced down at it.

  “It’s a few minutes before the club’s official closing time. Would you like to make one final appearance with me?”

  “Sure, but I have to end this conversation,” she said truthfully.

  The couple made their way to the front of the club in a matter of minutes. The DJ did what DJs do, and the crowd applauded for their host and his date. Talon bowed, and Shya smiled at the crowd. Finally, the night was done, and Talon and Shya walked out of the club hand in hand.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said. It was half a question.

  “You know what to do,” she stated flatly.

  “Outside of that.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 2

  Shya arrived back at the house a few hours later and parked in the garage.

  Didn’t need this after all, she thought, as she grabbed the green bag out of the back and headed for the front door.

  She unlocked the door and slipped silently into the house. She removed her shoes and walked into the kitchen to get some water. After taking the bottle of water from the fridge, she flicked off the light and padded in her socks to her room. Looking longingly at her bed, she stripped, dropped her clothes into the hamper, and walked to the bathroom. After freshening up, she unbraided her hair, selected a sleep shirt, and climbed into bed, exhausted.

  * * * * *

  Shya awakened to her phone bumping Rich Homie Quan’s “Type of Way” next to her head. She picked it up and spoke groggily into the phone.

  “Sup, girl? You picking me up for class today, or na?”

  “Yeah, I gotcha. Give me 2.2,” Shya responded.

  “Oh, Lord, ain’t no telling how long that will take.”

  “Longer if you stay on the phone.”

  Shya slowly sat up and looked at her clock. She rolled her eyes and got out of bed.

  * * * * *

  Downstairs, Hawk was in his office, going over some paperwork. Periodically, he tuned in to the TV on the wall, which had the news on low. Shya poked her head into the office and informed him that she was going to class. She quickly made her way to the front of the house and out the door. Twenty−five minutes later, she pulled up in front of her girl’s house.

  Jenezia was watching through the window and flew out her door before Shya had turned the car off. “Girl, you are pushing it,” she complained.

  Shya laughed. “We still have plenty of time, honey. Hold your horses.”

  They rolled into the student parking lot on campus with six minutes to spare. Quickly, they grabbed their things and dashed into the building. They stopped before they got to the door and strolled nonchalantly into class and took a seat.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Professor Pierson quipped.

  Jenezia cut her eyes at Shya. Shya just smirked and sat up straighter. But her attention wandered as the professor droned on.

  “If you have been paying attention to your syllabus, the assignment addressing the black diaspora and the present state of the black community is due the first day back from your winter breaks. Have a good holiday.”

  Jenezia and Shya packed up as the class groaned and began to file out. They met up outside the classroom.

  “What you got next?” Jenezia quizzed.

  “I have two hours before my next class, so I’m going to see if I can talk to the professor for a minute, then grab something to eat. What’s your schedule?”

  “I got accounting in about eight minutes. Then I can get with you for lunch if you want.”

  “Word. Sounds like a plan.”

  * * * * *

  Professor Pierson cleared his throat. “May I help you, young lady?”

  “Um, yes, sir. I wanted to know if I could speak to you privately for a second.”

  Professor Pierson looked at his watch. “I have some time. Follow me.”

  He led the way down the hall and around the corner to his office. Shya followed behind him and shut the door behind her.

  “Now, how can I help?”

  The professor had a fatherly air that wasn’t lost on any of the students, along with his pepper hair shot through with spots of salt, open and pleasant features, and a genuine warmth and positive regard for everyone.

  Shya reluctantly began to speak.

  Chapter 3

  “So, where are we doing lunch?”

  “I’m thinking I want a good zalad,” Shya smiled, referring to the grilled chicken salad she loved getting from Zaxby’s.

  “A’ite. Cool.”

  The girls got their salads and drove back to campus. They ate their lunch in the car while they discussed their plans for the winter break.

  “Girl, we should go to that new club they just opened in North Carolina. It will be fine if we go down there for New Year’s.” Jenezia sounded pumped.

  “Which one?”

  “It’s called Crunk and Wide.”

  “Ha, ha, that sounds funny,” Shya joked.

  “Naw, for real. We should do it.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should do something else, like hang out at your crib.”

  “Ah, come on, you never want to do anything I want to do,” Jenezia whined.

  Shya rolled her eyes. “Whatever, crybaby. We can do it.”

  “Word!” Jenezia exclaimed excitedly.

  The girls finished their lunch and stepped out of the car. They tossed their trash in the receptacle and kept moving toward their respective classes.

  “Meet me at the science building at 5:00,” Shya said over her shoulder.

  * * * * *

  Hawk answered a call on his work phone and began to mentally take notes. He asked all the pertinent questions and made sure to get the details he needed.

  Ten minutes later, Shya’s little brothers crashed through the front door, shoving and laughing as they made their way toward the kitchen. The older of the two boys, Jordan, aged thirteen, grabbed two small pizzas out of the freezer and popped them in the microwave.

  “I hope one of those is for me,” said Isahiah, the youngest in the family, aged eleven.

  “Naw, dog, they all me, chump,” Jordan chortled. “Naw, I got you,” he amended.

  The boys wolfed down their snack and then raced to the den to play video games. They snatched
up the controllers and put in Madden, one of their favorites.

  About an hour later, Shya entered the house and made her way to her bedroom. She stopped by the den and peeked inside. “Hi, guys,” she shouted, startling them from their game.

  Jordan played it cool, while Isahiah jumped up and ran to his sister. She hugged him tight, then reached out her arms to Jordan. “I don’t care that you’re taller than me. Come give your big sister a hug.”

  Jordan sauntered over as if he had nothing better to do. He was one inch taller than her five foot seven height. Isahiah was four inches shorter than Shya.

  Shya clicked into mommy mode and chastised the boys for not getting their homework done before they started playing video games. The boys put up the game, and with contrite looks on their faces, they marched up the stairs to their rooms.

  Shya followed them and branched off to her own room. She pulled out her laptop and her assignments and tried to focus while her mind kept wandering to what she had discussed with Professor Pierson. He had seemed receptive, and she hoped she had read him correctly.

  She gave up trying to do her assignments and decided to call one of her besties. The phone rang and went to voicemail, so Shya left a message and tried to figure out what to do before she had to cook dinner. She decided to do some more research and pulled up Google on her computer.

  A little while later, she wrapped up her research and went downstairs to start dinner. She jammed to Pandora on her phone as she prepared the meal.

  Once the boys smelled food cooking, they pounded down the stairs and bombarded the kitchen. Shya made sure her brothers had full plates, put a plate in the microwave for her stepfather, and sat down to eat some herself.

  After finishing up, she reminded her brothers to take care of the dishes and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

  Another long day, she thought as she climbed the steps to the second floor. She performed her nightly ritual and slid into the bed, ready for everything to be over.