What Is Love?
Based upon the original pilot.
Thank y'all for the 20K reads. It's deeply appreciated.
But find somewhere comfy to tuck into this long one shot!
"Move yo' ass outta the way!"
Busting into the office, Lucious' assistant stood with her hands on her hips, angry and pouting. Swallowing the lump in the back of her throat, Cookie took in her ex-husband's glamorous office. Her mouth had been agape the moment she set her gaze upon the high-rise structure with glass windows, steep steps leading to revolving doors. Lucious' face in a gold record adorned out and inside the building. It was almost as though Cookie had stepped into a fantasy land concocted from her and Lucious' dreams as they hustled in the grueling streets of North Philly. Her voice of the past span around in her head; 'That's just the tip of the iceberg. We gon' make it, baby. We gon' make it big.' A younger Cookie had exclaimed to her husband when a random had approached them in the street, begging Lucious to autograph his mixtape. Lucious had laughed, still astonished that he'd been recognized, treated like a celebrity. The buzz was indescribable.
Slowly, Cookie moved around the office, taking every in with a grain of salt. It should've been me experiencing this, too. But no matter how furious she was with Lucious right now, she was just so proud. Her heart beamed with pride as her eyes lingered on the shelf on the wall stacked to the brim with music awards; Grammys, Billboard, MVA, AMA's. The whole works, any award a musician could get, Lucious had. It affirmed her notion that this had all been worth fighting for but the sacrifices...they continued to cut her deep. For the two days she had secretly been out, she had woken up in cold sweats. Nightmares on top of nightmares about her prison life. The screams, cries, and begs were loud in her mind whenever she closed her eyes. She was yet to find comfort or peace. Her body, mind, and soul had taken a battering and she doubted she would ever be the same again.
By the window, she gazed out and took in the beauty of New York. Whilst her eyes fixated on the stunning view of Central Park, her mind wandered back into the past to twenty-one years ago. She and Lucious were broke with nothing valuable to their name, living a dusty motel room with their two little boys and one on the way. Lucious had proclaimed he had a surprise for Cookie and left the kids with Carol before driving Cookie somewhere in that old broken down hoopty.
A younger Lucious covered his wife's eyes with his hands, as she shifted anxiously on her feet with a hand soothing rubbing her round stomach. "Are you ready?" Cookie nodded, eagerly. With a smile, Lucious removed his hands down to her shoulders and watched his wife stare at an array of rundown houses. "This is our new house," Lucious confessed, gesturing to the home they stood in front of with the red chipped paint and cracked windows. "Whatchu think?"
Feeling herself tear up, she turned and wrapped her arms around her husband, tightly. Her bump pressing into his stomach. "It's beautiful."
They didn't have much and they didn't need much. They had each other, and their boys. They had their family and that used to be what mattered most; keyword being, used. A lot has changed in twenty-one years. Cookie's soft smile dims at her new reality and glances at Lucious' desk. A photo frame captures her attention. A smiling Lucious, in an expensive suit with a perm that made him look like some sleazy pimp, holding a slim woman with short hair and a seemingly equally expensive gold dress like she was some sort of porcelain doll. He looked content...no, not content, happy. Lucious looked happy, while she had been miserable rotting away in a cell alone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Queen has returned!"
That all too familiar voice had chills running down her spine. She hadn't intimately heard that voice since the last time he visited; sixteen years ago. She listened to his music, heard him speak on the radio, during interviews, and wondered what it would be like to see him face to face again after so long. He smelt the same; like that cologne, she had brought him one Christmas. She hated that he smelt like home. It made her want to wrap her arms around him and never let go. But, unfortunately, he'd let her go a long time ago.
