Life After Death
The year was 1997. Brooklyn was cautiously ushering in the spring, a season that usually comes bearing warmth and rejuvenation. But not this time. The aura was far from spring-like. The chilling winds of sorrow blew harder than the gusts of late winter, cloaking the borough in a curtain of melancholy.
The air was heavy with a profound sense of loss. A loss that echoed through the city sounds and reverberated off the graffiti-laden walls. A loss that everyone felt. The streets of New York were silent yet screaming in pain, mourning their own son, the legendary Notorious BIG.
Just a month ago, Christopher Wallace, more famously known as Biggie Smalls or The Notorious BIG, had been senselessly taken from them. Now, his posthumously released second studio album, “Life After Death,” was acting as a musical eulogy, flowing ceaselessly from every apartment, every car stereo, every corner of Brooklyn. His last journey through the city, the hearse bearing his body, had left behind a trail of tears and jubilation as his music played, a testament to the beloved icon he was.
Amid the throng of mourners was Bonnie, a sixteen-year-old girl who was still grappling with this cruel twist of fate. She had sobbed inconsolably during the public procession, her heart breaking as the car carrying her idol passed by. Her dream of meeting him was finally realized, albeit in a manner she'd never fathomed.
His music had always been an escape for her, a magical portal to another world, away from the gospel-filled tranquility of her house. However, the only way to feed her passion for Hip Hop and R&B was by working at Salim's CDs and More, her haven, just two blocks from her house.
The job was a means to an end for Bonnie. Two hours a day after school, immersed in the mesmerizing world of rhythm and rhymes, that was her solace. Her meager salary was a passport to buy the CD's at a discount and stash them away in her secret hideout - her underwear drawer. At night, under the cover of darkness, her walkman would transport her to a place where she could live her love for Biggie and other Hip Hop artists, and her mothers complaints about rap music was nothing more than a distant lullaby.
One particular Monday, her sanctuary, Salim's CDs and More, was invaded by a group of boys who had staked their claim in front of the Biggie mural. She had been the guardian of the mural outside the shop that was painted two days after his murder, ensuring it remained unblemished, but today she decided to ignore them and head straight inside.
Inside, she warmly greeted Salim, the store owner, who had become a surrogate big brother over the months. His offer for her to work at the store had been more of an acknowledgment of her unwavering dedication to the music she adored. Salim knew Bonnie's routine all too well, and as usual, she slipped into the backroom and cued up "Life After Death" to echo throughout the shop. Her ritual remained unchanged, even though Biggie's death had cast a gloomy shadow over her joy.
Just as Salim had anticipated, Biggie's voice flowed through the speakers, filling the shop. As the chilling intro of "Life After Death" resonated, Bonnie emerged, lighter without her backpack and bomber jacket. Their brief exchange acknowledged the temporary changing of guard, as Salim decided to take a quick bathroom break.
Sitting behind the counter, Bonnie's lips moved in sync with "Somebody's Gotta Die", her fingers dancing over the pages of a “Word Up Magazine.”
Suddenly, her rhythm was disrupted by a voice, she recognized it as belonging to one of the boys just standing in front of the mural. She'd noticed him around a couple of times, but this was the first time their worlds collided. Bonnie was a quiet girl who found comfort in the realms of music and books, not people. Her world revolved around school, the record shop, and her protective mother. But this boy was a new variable. Handsome, wearing dark jeans, Timberlands, and a black Phat Farm bubble jacket, his freshly braided cornrows adding to his street charm.
“Every day you come in here and play his music, even before he died. What’s up with that?”, he questioned, breaking into her peaceful solitude.
“I’m a fan.” Bonnie responded, attempting to focus back on the magazine, even though her heartbeat seemed to disagree.
“Obviously. But why?”, he probed further.
“His music tells stories, stories you can visualize. It’s like watching a movie,” she shared her thoughts.
Cornrows nodded, visibly impressed, “You just don’t look like the type to be into Biggie.”
Bonnie put her magazine down, part annoyed, part curious, “And what does a Biggie fan look like, according to you?”
He faltered for a moment before saying, “Well, you wear glasses.”
Bonnie laughed, "So being visually impaired disqualifies me from appreciating good music? That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
She picked up the magazine, dismissing him as she retreated back into her sanctuary of music and print. Cornrows tried to regroup under her feisty gaze.
“If you're not here to buy anything, please move along,” she suggested, her voice muffled behind the magazine.
Cornrows took a moment, feeling the heat of Salim’s amusement from a distance. It was clear that he had a soft spot for Bonnie. He'd been observing him awkwardly try to woo her for some time now, but Bonnie, always engrossed in her music or a magazine, had never given him a second thought.
Trying to regain his footing, Cornrows asked, "So, what's your favorite track on the new album?"
“All of them!” she replied, without lowering her magazine.
"Mine too!"
Bonnie finally peeked over the magazine, a spark of interest in her eyes.
“Which track do you skip on “Ready To Die”?” she threw at him, testing his credibility.
“None,” he responded confidently, locking eyes with her.
“Favorite feature?”
“Flava In Ya Ear remix”, he shot back instantly.
And so it was. Cornrows, from the block, had managed to intrigue Bonnie. As they bonded over the love for Biggie and Hip Hop, the record shop hummed in harmony, basking in their shared passion for music. Through their interaction, Bonnie found an unexpected confidante, and Cornrows who would later introduce himself to her as Jermaine, found a beautiful enigma wrapped in a Hip Hop fanatic who wore glasses.
As the months passed, Jermaine seemed to gravitate towards the record store, appearing each day, like a magnet drawn to its polarity. Some days, he would bring take out, a shared treat between him and Bonnie. Other days, he would materialize during her final half-hour, offering to walk her home. He even started picking her up from school to ensure that she’d arrived safely at Salim's. Bonnie's life was one of restrained freedom, but Jermaine, like a skilled thief, stole moments from time, gifting her companionship and camaraderie. They exchanged thoughts on music, swapped VHS movie tapes, and their friendship began to bloom, echoing the rhythm of their emotions, hidden yet palpable.
One day, as Bonnie arrived at work, Jermaine awaited her with a mysterious gleam in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you," he announced, standing against the backdrop of the freshly cleaned Biggie mural, a labor he'd taken upon himself to share with Bonnie.
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Can it wait, Jermaine? I have work."
"I've already talked to Salim, don't worry about your pay," Jermaine assured, a sparkle of excitement in his voice.
Bonnie cast a glance at Salim, who acknowledged with an approving nod. Convinced, she followed Jermaine through the store and out the back.
"We're going to the roof," he declared.
"The roof?!"
"Trust me," he encouraged, guiding her up the stairs.
"What exactly are we doing here, Jermaine?" Bonnie queried, stepping onto the rooftop with his assistance.
With a mischievous smile, Jermaine extended his hand. The simplicity of the gesture sent a jolt of anticipation through Bonnie, making her blush. As she looked around, she noticed a quaint setting - a table for two, furnished with a vase holding a single red rose and a pair of white boxes from her favorite Jamaican restaurant. A bottle of her cherished Cola Champagne occupied a place of honor on the table. A gasp escaped Bonnie's lips as she covered her mouth in surprise.
"Do you like it?" he asked tentatively.
"This is so dope, Jermaine!" Bonnie exclaimed as she eased into her seat, excitement radiating from her eyes.
In response, Jermaine rushed to a nearby boombox, queuing up "Sky's The Limit", before settling across from her. "I got your favorite - oxtail with rice and peas," he said, his voice almost drowned by the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
"No one has ever done anything like this for me before. I'm so lucky to be best friends with you," Bonnie responded, her face glowing with genuine happiness.
The summer heat hung heavy in the Brooklyn air, but for Jermaine, it was his escalating nervousness that caused him to perspire. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, "Actually, that's what I wanted to you talk about. I don't want to be just best friends anymore, Bonnie. I want to be your boyfriend."
Bonnie almost choked on her soda. Boyfriend? She certainly enjoyed Jermaine's company, and their growing closeness had ignited something within her, but she'd always dismissed those feelings. However, for Jermaine, who'd made her feel special, cherished, and comfortable in her skin, she was ready to take the leap.
"I would love to be your girlfriend," Bonnie confessed, a shy blush creeping onto her cheeks.
Jermaine's joy was reflected in his wide, victorious grin. After a pause, he asked hesitantly, "Can I... can I kiss you?"
The question was met with giggles from Bonnie, who had never kissed a boy before. Yet, with Jermaine, the idea seemed less intimidating, even inviting. Nodding her head, they both rose from their seats. Their first kiss was an innocent peck, a cherished moment exchanged on the Brooklyn rooftop, above the record store that had been a catalyst to their blossoming romance.
A decade later, they found themselves atop another Brooklyn rooftop, their surroundings far more opulent than Salim's humble record store. Only this time, they weren't two shy teenagers sharing a stolen kiss; they were man and woman, husband and wife, about to embark on a lifelong journey together. They exchanged their first kiss as a married couple under the watchful eyes of friends and family, their lips meeting in a dance as old as time itself.
Of course, Salim was there too, grinning from ear to ear, not just as a spectator but as an integral part of their story, a silent guardian who had been present from the very beginning. Their union was not just a testament to their love but also a tribute to the place that had brought them together, the humble record store - Salim's CDs and Things.
As the Brooklyn night blanketed the city, music, laughter, and joy washed over the attendees, creating an atmosphere of love and celebration. Each friend and family member present could see the bond between Bonnie and Jermaine, a union forged through shared dreams, laughter, late-night discussions over music, and a million other tiny moments.
Salim watched on from the crowd, a proud smile playing on his lips. The love between Bonnie and Jermaine reminded him of the power of music, how it had drawn two disparate souls together in his little store. The sight of them now - so deeply in love, so radiant in their happiness - was like watching the climax of a beautiful song.
And the music played on. Instead of a string quartet or a professional wedding band, the soundtrack for the night was a blend of hip-hop classics, curated lovingly by Bonnie and Jermaine. Biggie's hits, especially 'Sky's The Limit,' echoed throughout the night, an ode to the start of their love story.
As Bonnie and Jermaine took to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple, they moved with a rhythm born out of years of shared love for the music that had brought them together. Everyone watched as they lost themselves in each other's arms, under the twinkling city lights, while the echoes of a bygone era of music filled the air.
Their love story, as intricate and rich as the rhymes of their favorite hip-hop tracks, was still being written. And as Biggie's voice boomed out from the speakers, they knew that despite the twists and turns, the highs and lows, their love - like their favorite music - was timeless, a testament to the fact that truly, the sky's the limit.
Salim, grinning wider than ever, raised his glass to toast the couple, echoing the sentiment in everyone's hearts, "To Bonnie and Jermaine, may your lives be as vibrant and enduring as the music that brought you together. May you forever dance to the rhythm of love. Cheers!"
And so, amidst a night filled with celebration, Bonnie and Jermaine started their new journey together. They had come a long way from that modest record store in Brooklyn, their love story entwined with the lyrical verses of the hip-hop tracks they adored. Their tale, akin to a beautiful song, was a testament to the extraordinary power of music and love. And they knew, their dance was far from over; it was just the beginning.
In the wake of their favorite artist's untimely passing, Bonnie and Jermaine found not just solace but also an unbreakable bond in each other. Their love story, sparked in the heart of Brooklyn, was like the very essence of Biggie's "Life After Death" - a testament to enduring spirit, indomitable passion, and the beautiful symmetry of finding life, love, and music, even amidst the echoes of a loss that had once seemed insurmountable.
This short story is being adapted into a full length novel. Please sign up to be the first to know its release date.
About The Author
Jhéanell is a visionary Writer, Filmmaker and Founder of “Urban Love Stories” who skillfully weaves together themes of love, culture, and spirituality in her art. Her work resonates deeply with audiences, combining vivid imagery with R&B, Hip Hop, and Jamaican Dancehall melodies as the soundtrack to create a truly captivating experience.