The block party committee table was set up outside a laundromat with faded signage and speakers blasting old-school soul music. Maya and Tia parked across the street and made their way over, carrying a sample tray of lip gloss and a folder with Maya’s branding mockups.


The air smelled like fried fish, car exhaust, and ambition.


“Don’t be nervous,” Tia said, smoothing Maya’s hoodie. “Just be you.”


Maya inhaled deeply and nodded. Her stomach flipped as they approached the woman seated at the folding table—mid-thirties, locs, clipboard, no-nonsense energy.


“You here for the vendor list?” she asked, looking over her glasses.


“Yes ma’am,” Maya said, her voice low but steady. “I’m Maya Carter. I run a homemade cosmetics line—lip glosses, oils, scrubs. All natural, all small batch. Got samples too.”


The woman raised an eyebrow and gestured to the tray. “Lemme see.”


Maya popped open the case and handed her a tester tube of No Apologies. Tia slipped her own lips into a glossy smile, modeling the product without a word.


The woman applied a tiny dab to her hand. Rubbed it in. Sniffed. Smiled.


“You made this?”


“Yes ma’am. In my kitchen. Got my license and receipts.”


“You got social?”


Maya handed her the folder—mock-ups, labels, a QR code to her Instagram.


The woman glanced through it, then looked up. “You got hustle. I like that. We got room for one more beauty table. Sixty for the day, space comes with a table and chairs.”


Maya blinked. “I thought it was a hundred?”


“That was before I tried the gloss,” she said with a smirk. “You in or not?”


Tia elbowed her gently.


“I’m in,” Maya said.


The woman wrote her name down. “You locked. Welcome to the party, Glossed by May May.”


Maya’s heart swelled.


Back in the car, Tia squealed. “Girl! Your first table! We need to celebrate!”


Maya smiled wide. “I never thought—”


She stopped. Her phone buzzed.


Unknown Number:

Don’t trust your little cop friend. He ain’t what he seem. Watch your back.


Maya stared at the screen, pulse rising.


Tia leaned over. “What’s wrong?”


Maya locked the phone.


“Nothing,” she said.


But it was a lie.