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AVERI ST. CLAIRE

“ O h my God Serenity you look so beautiful.” I murmured staring at one of my best friends as she modeled the Vera Wang wedding dress she planned to wear to her ceremony which would be in a few months, in front of the mirror for us all to see.

The fact that she was already married to the love of her life Creed didn’t make a difference; he wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams since their first wedding was in a secret ceremony in the dead of night in a Vegas wedding chapel.

“I love the lace Tootie.” Arielle, her cousin and my other friend mentioned while sipping on her flute of champagne provided to us all by the bridal shop.

“And ya booty look big so there’s that.” Egypt, my best friend in the entire world remarked while playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

Serenity sighed while looking in the mirror. “What do you think Stink?” she asked her 7 year old daughter Cree who was too busy on her iPad.

“You’re cute Mommy.” Cree replied glancing up briefly to look at her mother.

“Cree, come on now, pay attention.” I said taking her iPad. “For a second, look at Mommy.”

My niece huffed before finally taking a real look at her mother who was smiling at her expectantly.

She and her mother looked nothing alike, besides the massive pile of curls on top of their heads.

If anything, Cree looked exactly like her father; nigga couldn’t deny her even if he wanted to, but he would have never.

“I like it a lot Mommy, you look so beautiful.” Cree finally said standing up and going over to stand next to her mother. She took some of the lace fabric in her hand. “But it looks a little small, is there going to be room for the baby still?”

“Cree—” Serenity said wide eyed and from the corner of my eye Arielle spit her champagne out.

“Bitch what?” Egypt and I asked at the same time.

“You’re not…”

Serenity shook her head before a smirk appeared on her face. “I am definitely NOT pregnant. Little Nosey was listening to conversations she had no business listening to.” She playfully pushed Cree.

“Y’all talking about having another baby?” Egypt asked and Serenity shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean we’ve discussed it a lot. But we both have a lot going on. He’s still finding his groove with the team, I’m always on set and not to mention I’ve been thinking about opening my dance studio. It’s just a lot and we’re already juggling all of that with two kids.”

“I can’t wait to have kids one day.” Egypt mumbled. “But hell, I need to find a man first.”

“Kids can be a blessing, but sometimes they are annoying little creatures.” Serenity said side eyeing Cree who had resumed playing on her tablet.

I just smiled, sipping my champagne. I guess I was too quiet because I felt the attention shift to me.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Arielle asked, turning her attention to me. “You’ve been real in your head today.”

I hesitated before finally sighing.

“I don’t know, y’all. I think… being here, seeing all this, it just got me thinking.”

“About what?” Serenity asked, tilting her head.

I gestured around us. “Love, marriage, kids…Hell, a real relationship.” I let out a small laugh. “Y’all know I’ve had situationships, a couple of flings, but nothing’s ever stuck. Shit, maybe this love thing isn’t for me.”

Egypt scoffed. “Girl, you ain’t the only one. Dating as a successful black woman in entertainment? Ghetto. Zero stars.”

“I mean, I don’t even know if I have time for it,” I admitted. “My career is booming right now. With the show and I got Grammy wins, I’m finally getting taken seriously as a producer and songwriter… a relationship? That’s a whole job in itself.”

Serenity nodded in understanding. “Yeah, but you deserve both, Averi. Success and love.”

I just smiled weakly, not convinced. Was this really something I deserved, or was it something I wanted so damn bad I thought I deserved it?

Later that night after a quick bite to eat I was back at my condo in downtown LA, curled up on my plush sectional scrolling through emails while some tracks I was working on played softly in the background.

I loved my condo; it was absolutely my happy place.

When I got my first check from The Coven, this was the first thing I bought.

The condo was luxurious but not excessive—floor-to-ceiling windows, a sleek white and gold color scheme, and a balcony overlooking the city skyline.

It was a girl’s dream, but it still felt like me.

Then my phone rang.

I sighed rolling my eyes after seeing who it was before answering. “Hey, Mama.”

“Do you have time to talk, or are you too busy jet-setting around the country?” My mother’s tone was already edged with judgment.

I ignored the jab. “I’m home. What’s up?”

“Well, I just got off the phone with your sister. She and Brandon are expecting. Can you believe it? My youngest is married, with a baby on the way, and my oldest is… what, exactly?”

I closed my eyes, exhaling through my nose. Here we go.

“I’m successful, Mama. I have a hit tv show that I am a lead actress. I’ve won three Grammys. I’m writing and producing for some of the biggest artists out right now?—”

“But no husband. No stability. Averi, we didn’t send you to the best schools, invest in etiquette classes, and prepare you for high society so you could play around with acting and music like it’s a hobby.”

“It’s not a hobby,” I snapped.

"Oh, really?" She let out a condescending chuckle. "You’re twenty-eight years old, Averi. You have no fiancé, no children, no?—"

"And?!" I cut in, sitting forward, heat rising in my chest. "So because I ain’t barefoot and pregnant like Candace, my life ain't worth shit?"

"Watch your mouth." I rolled my eyes, but she wasn’t done.

"Your sister made smart choices. She married a good man, a doctor, mind you. She will be raising her children in a stable, respectable home. Meanwhile, you’re…

what? Acting on a tv show and producing rap albums?

Hanging around industry men who only see women as disposable? "

That one hit differently.

"Excuse me?"

"Don’t act naive, Averi. I’ve been watching the headlines. First Omari, then that basketball player, then that singer—do you even take yourself seriously?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw tightening. "Oh, so now my dating life is up for discussion too?"

"It is when you keep playing around instead of thinking about your future."

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Mama, my future is fine. I make more in a year than most lawyers make in five. But you’ll never be happy unless I’m a damn Stepford Wife like Candace."

"Why do you always make it seem like I’m the villain for wanting you to have stability? A family? I don’t want you to be alone."

That was a lie.

She didn’t care about me being alone. She cared about appearances. About the St. Claire family name, about what her friends in their country club circles whispered when they found out her oldest daughter was a single actress and songwriter instead of an attorney or surgeon.

She wanted a legacy, a dynasty, not an artist who moved to LA to carve out her own lane.

"Mama, I don’t wanna be you." My voice was quieter now, but firm. "And I damn sure don’t want a marriage like yours."

An eerie silence radiated between us. My heartbeat fast in my chest. I had hit a nerve, I knew I did. She was sensitive when it came to her relationship with my daddy. Because no matter how much my mother wanted to put up a perfect front, we both knew her marriage to my father was not goals.

Dr. Elijah St. Claire was a brilliant neurosurgeon, but as a husband? As a father? Absent as hell.

He let my mother handle everything—the raising, the discipline, the pressure, while he threw himself into his work. And if my mother was hard on me? It was because she had to be. She was preparing me to survive the world alone—just like she had.

I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Look, I’m tired." My voice had softened, but my exhaustion was clear. "Congrats to Candace. I’m happy for her. But stop comparing us. I’ll have a husband when I find one worth my time."

She didn’t respond right away, and I knew she wanted to argue, but I wouldn’t give her the chance as I disconnected our call.

I tossed my phone onto the couch, rubbing my temples. I hated these conversations. Hated how they made me feel like no matter what I accomplished it would never be enough in my mother’s eyes.

Trap House Studios had been my second home since I moved to LA.

The name was misleading—this place was anything but a trap house.

It was one of the most exclusive recording studios in the city, a sleek, dimly lit sanctuary where some of the biggest names in hip-hop, R nothing was impossible. I thought myself as Superwoman and I could make anybody sound good.

I wasn’t just a producer or songwriter—I was known for my ability to bring out the best in artists, even the difficult ones. I could take an okay singer and turn them into a vocal beast, an average rapper and make them a lyrical force. And Logan knew Royal needed that.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Why me?"

"Because you’re the only one I trust to bring him to that next level.

" His voice softened just a little. "Look, I know he’s a handful. I ain’t gon’ sit here and lie to you—he’s cocky as hell.

But he’s got that it factor, Averi. And right now, he’s wasting it.

I need someone to get through to him, and if anybody can do that, it’s you. "

I hated that he was right.

Royal had something.

I’d heard a few of his songs. His voice had that gritty, melodic quality, like a mix between Tory Lanez and Chris Brown—someone who could rap like he had something to prove but sing like he was born to do it.

His last two projects had done numbers, but nothing that solidified him as a real force.

And that was the problem. He was coasting, putting out safe music instead of the music that could make him legendary. And Logan was asking me to fix that.

I took a deep breath, staring at the studio monitors, weighing my options.

"I’ll think about it."

Logan smirked, knowing that was as close to a ‘yes’ as he was gonna get from me right now.

"Think fast, St. Claire." He pushed off the console, adjusting his chain. "He ain’t the patient type."

Neither was I.