Mo’Ney

by Stef Sparkles

Chapter 1: “Dear Mo’Ney, Fuck You!”

Labor Day. Monday morning, 4 a.m.

“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!”

Marcus’ bedside alarm blared, just as it did every morning.

“Time to go to work,” Marcus mumbled.

He rolled over and slapped the alarm clock like it owed him money.

Marcus reached for his phone on the nightstand. He pressed the power button on the side. The screen lit up so brightly that it made him rub his eyes, as if that would remedy the issue.

“Still no word back?… Damn,” Marcus muttered disappointedly.

Marcus raised himself up and scooted to the side of the bed, gently lowering his legs to the floor.

Gentle starts were very important for Marcus these days. At 35 years old, stretching before blue-collar work was mandatory, too.

Before Marcus could even pray or brush his teeth, he was on his phone dialing her number.

“Blooop, Blooop.”

“HELLO?” a tired voice echoed over the line.

“Baby, you told me if I started this new job with this new company, things would get better between us… What is going on right now?” Marcus spoke bashfully.

“Marcus, baby, we’ve been through this before,” she sighed.

“But you promised me!” Marcus interrupted.

“No, Marcus. You made promises to yourself. Don’t put that on me.”

Marcus sat silently, staring at the floor.

“So what am I supposed to do, Mo’Ney? I’m giving you everything I’ve got!”

“Everything you’ve got?” Mo’Ney repeated quietly.

“Every damn thing!” Marcus snapped.

She paused.

“Marcus, you keep asking me why I leave. But have you ever stopped to think about what happens while I’m there?”

Marcus glanced at the photograph hanging on his bedroom wall. It was a picture of him and Mo’Ney on their first official date as a couple.

She wore the prettiest gold cardigan that day. Gold was her favorite color. Marcus could still remember how beautiful she looked and how fortunate he’d felt just to have her by his side.

Above their heads hung a banner that read, “Marcus & Mo’Ney Forever.”

He stared at those three words for a moment.

Forever.

Back then, he’d believed it.

Marcus zoned out, drifting back to that day.

The weather had been absolutely perfect. There was even a gentle breeze flowing through the air. Seventy-five degrees, comfortable clothes, and both families were already there, ready for the surprise.

“I’m going to finally ask her to be my girl,” Marcus muttered while staring into the bathroom mirror.

“Twenty-five more minutes and she’ll be here,” he said to himself.

“Doop, doop, doop!”

A knock rapped against the bathroom door.

“MARCUS! Come on, buddy, let’s get in place!” yelled Marcus’ dad.

“Okay, Dad, I’m coming!” Marcus replied.

“Everyone’s here! Even the food is set up real nice. I can’t wait to dig in. Those caterers sure know how to do their thing!” said Marcus’ dad excitedly.

Marcus followed his father down the hallway toward the auditorium, adjusting his collar for what had to be the fifth time.

His footsteps echoed against the polished floors as he walked. His stomach was doing something between a backflip and a bad dance move. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous.

“You alright, son?” his father asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m good,” Marcus replied, although his sweaty palms told a different story.

As they approached the auditorium, Marcus could hear soft jazz playing and the gentle chatter of guests mingling inside.

His father pushed open the double doors.

The dinner hall looked beautiful. Fresh floral arrangements decorated the tables, crisp linens draped elegantly over every setting, and the warm glow of the lighting gave the entire room an almost magical appearance.

Everything was coming together exactly as Marcus had imagined.

And every bit of it was sitting on that damn credit card.

Marcus glanced around the room, mentally adding up the decorations, catering, and all the little things he’d convinced himself were necessary.

How in the hell am I gonna pay all this off?

He’d worry about that later. Today was supposed to be special.

Then he spotted Mo’Ney’s family.

They were gathered near the front of the hall, exchanging quiet conversation.

Marcus had always thought there was something different about Mo’Ney’s family. They carried themselves with a kind of confidence he couldn’t quite explain.

There was nothing particularly flashy about their appearance. No oversized jewelry, no loud designer labels, no obvious attempts to impress anyone.

Their clothes were beautifully tailored, their jewelry understated, and even their casual conversations seemed to carry a certain polish.

They looked like the kind of people whose families had been comfortable for generations.

Old money, Marcus thought.

Not the kind that needed to be seen, but the kind that had always been there.

He straightened his posture.

He knew they loved Mo’Ney. That much was obvious. But something about standing in the same room with them made him feel as though he was being considered for a position he hadn’t quite qualified for.

Marcus looked around the beautifully decorated hall once more.

He’d spent weeks making sure everything was perfect.

Yet somehow, standing there among Mo’Ney’s family, he wondered if perfect would ever be enough.

And whether he’d still be paying for perfect six months from now.

Marcus snapped out of his daydream, his eyes settling once again on the photograph hanging on his bedroom wall.

“And PLEASE don’t bring up that expensive-ass party you threw three years ago, Marcus!” Mo’Ney grumbled on the other end of the line.

“It’s about time we started planning to see a financial advisor and talking about taking steps toward financial freedom and marriage.”

Marcus swallowed hard.

How in the hell could he tell her just how deep in debt that party had actually put him?

Three years later, he was still paying for it.

After the wage garnishment over his credit card debt went into effect, Marcus had barely been getting by. Between his bills and the rent on the place he’d gotten just to impress Mo’Ney, there was hardly anything left.

He’d wanted so badly to show her that he could provide a beautiful life.

Now, he was struggling just to afford the one he’d created.

“Okay, baby, I hear you. I’m locked in,” Marcus whispered sweetly.

“Okay then, my love,” Mo’Ney replied warmly.

“Oh, and I’m flying out to Texas for a two-week business trip. I wanted to let you know. That’s actually one of the reasons I’d been meaning to call you.”

She paused briefly.

“So, I was thinking I could swoop through and stay with you for a few nights before I go?”

“Ok Love, you don’t have to pack anything. I have everything you need here. I may be at work when you come, but feel free to let yourself in,” Marcus replied.

“Okay, see you later,” Mo’Ney answered.

Marcus pressed the red end-call button on his phone.

He set his phone down and headed toward his computer.

“Financial advisor?” Marcus repeated to himself.

He opened his internet browser and typed into the search bar:

Financial advisor near me.

One of the first results to appear was a sponsored listing.

SILAS BLACKWELL

Private Financial Consulting | Debt Solutions | Wealth Management

“Your Financial Freedom Starts Here.”

“Hmm,” Marcus murmured, leaning forward in his chair.

“Let’s check this guy out…”

Marcus clicked the link.

A sleek, professionally designed website filled his computer screen. At the top was a photograph of a distinguished gentleman dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, standing confidently in what appeared to be an extravagant office.

“He looks like a stand-up guy… Damn, look at that watch! Woooo!” Marcus exclaimed excitedly, leaning closer to the screen.

He studied the photograph a little longer.

“Why is this ninja wearing a Tom Ford suit with a pair of Jordans on? I’m sold!”

Marcus burst into laughter.

Beneath his photograph were dozens of glowing client testimonials praising his financial expertise, generosity, and willingness to help people get back on their feet.

Marcus scrolled farther down the page.

There were descriptions of debt management services, financial planning, and something called the Financial Reset Program, designed specifically for individuals struggling with overwhelming debt.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Marcus muttered.

He leaned back in his chair, studying the screen.

For the first time in months, something about his financial situation seemed a little less hopeless.

At the bottom of the page was a gold button that read:

SCHEDULE YOUR COMPLIMENTARY CONSULTATION.

Marcus stared at it for a moment.

“Well, let’s see what he’s all about, then,” Marcus sighed.

He clicked the gold button, filled out the complimentary consultation form, and submitted his information.

“Alright, alright!” Marcus giggled. “Let’s brush our teeth and get this shower going. We got forty-five minutes left before go time!” he said to himself.

“Gotta get to the money, gotta get to the money, yeah!”

The music blared from the speaker sitting on the bathroom countertop.

Steam filled the air, fogging the mirrors and settling over every inch of Marcus’ beautiful stone bathroom.

Marcus stepped beneath the showerhead, closing his eyes as the hot water cascaded over his body.

The water streamed down his broad shoulders, following the definition of his tightly sculpted, chestnut-brown back. The muscles beneath his smooth skin shifted as he raised his arms, running his hands over his head.

Those trips to the gym over the past few weeks were finally beginning to pay off.

Marcus had always been a handsome man, but lately, he’d been putting a little extra effort into maintaining his physique. His shoulders had grown broader, his chest more defined, and the muscles along his abdomen were finally beginning to show.

He reached for his body wash, poured a generous amount into his palm, and worked it into a rich lather.

His hands moved slowly across his chest and over his shoulders, working the soap across his warm skin before following the firm contours of his stomach.

For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the soothing sensation of the water against his body.

He tilted his head back, letting the steady stream wash over his face and down his neck.

“Man, that feels good,” he murmured.

Marcus smiled to himself.

Maybe Mo’Ney would notice all his hard work when she came over later.

He chuckled at the thought, shaking his head beneath the water.

“Boy, you better get yourself to work.”

He rinsed away the remaining soap, nodding his head to the music as he mentally prepared himself for another long day at the plant.

After turning off the shower, Marcus reached for his towel and stepped onto the plush bathroom rug.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped the steam from the mirror with the palm of his hand.

His reflection slowly emerged through the fogged glass.

Marcus looked himself over, turning slightly to inspect the progress he’d made.

A satisfied grin spread across his face.

“Looking good, brother. Looking real good.”

He flexed his shoulders playfully before bursting into laughter.

“Damn, that shit bumpin’!” Marcus yelled as the music continued playing.

He reached over and switched off his Bluetooth speaker.

“Another day, another dollar,” he muttered, giving his reflection one final glance.

He brushed his beard, applied his moisturizer, and gave himself a quick inspection before heading into his bedroom.

His work clothes were already laid out across the bed: a freshly pressed navy-blue polo, a pair of dark work pants, and his favorite black steel-toe boots.

Marcus slipped into his clothes, tucked in his shirt, and fastened his belt. He grabbed his cologne from the dresser and gave himself two quick sprays.

“Can’t go to work smelling like yesterday’s problems,” he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots and tightening the laces. Five days a week, those boots carried him through a manufacturing plant where the machines never seemed to stop running and somebody always needed something.

Marcus stood, grabbed his work badge from the dresser, and checked himself in the mirror one last time.

“Looking good, brother. Looking good.”

With that taken care of, Marcus grabbed his keys and headed out the door for work.

Traffic was heavier than Marcus had expected that morning. Fortunately, he’d filled his gas tank and packed his lunch the evening before, saving himself an extra twenty minutes on his ride.

Marcus had always possessed a natural gift for understanding how things worked. Machines, systems, production processes. Give him a problem, and he’d find a way to solve it. That curiosity had eventually earned him a bachelor’s degree in engineering, an accomplishment he and his family were especially proud of.

Between the scholarships he’d earned and the financial support of his family, Marcus had graduated college without owing a single dollar in student loans. It was a blessing he never took for granted. While many of his classmates entered adulthood carrying thousands of dollars in educational debt, Marcus had been fortunate enough to begin his professional journey with a clean financial slate.

His engineering background had served him well throughout his career. He understood the machinery on the production floor just as well as the employees operating it. But it wasn’t his degree alone that made him a respected maintenance manager. It was his willingness to listen, his ability to remain calm under pressure, and the respect he showed the people who worked alongside him.

His team trusted him, and Marcus took that responsibility seriously.

Marcus had always dreamed of becoming the director of maintenance. With his current director preparing to retire, that dream was beginning to feel closer than ever. The position would soon be vacant, and Marcus hoped that his years of dedication, experience, and hard work would finally pay off.

Marcus pulled into the warehouse parking lot around 5:00 a.m. He was the first one there every morning.

The massive agricultural processing facility was responsible for cleaning, sorting, and packaging grains and seeds for commercial distribution. Between the processing machinery, conveyor systems, packaging lines, and enormous warehouse, there was never a shortage of equipment requiring maintenance.

It was Marcus’ responsibility to get the lights on in the plant before the associates and corporate team members arrived for the day.

Marcus unlocked the front door and stepped into the lobby.

“Home sweet home,” Marcus whispered to himself.

He took a right down a long hallway that led to the electrical control room.

Marcus unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the quiet hum of the electrical equipment.

He reached for the master lighting control, gripped the heavy black pistol-grip switch on the panel, and twisted it clockwise.

A series of contactors clicked inside the electrical cabinet. Moments later, row after row of high-bay lights illuminated the massive processing floor and warehouse.

“Done!” Marcus said to himself.

He stepped out of the control room and locked the door behind him.

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

The warning sign hung prominently on the door.

Marcus headed toward his office, gripping his keys between his fingers. His steel-toe boots thudded against the floor, echoing through the empty hallways as he walked away.

The building was beginning to come alive. Marcus finally arrived at his office, ready to delegate the day’s assignments to his maintenance team.

He unlocked his office door and switched on the light.

His eyes settled on the poster hanging on the wall behind his desk.

“HARD WORK PAYS OFF!”

Marcus took a seat and turned his attention to his desktop computer.

“Wow! I’ve got at least thirty maintenance requests pending?!” Marcus muttered in disbelief.

“It’s about to be a long day!”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, stretched, and rubbed his face with both hands.

“Goodness! At least fifteen of them are from Courtney!” he exclaimed, a scowl forming across his face.

“Hey, boss! Good morning!” a voice called from Marcus’ office doorway.

It was Kevon, his maintenance team lead.

5:30 a.m., like clockwork.

Kevon was hardworking and dependable, just the right man for the job.

“Good morning, Kevon,” Marcus replied.

“Are you catching up on your emails right now?” Kevon asked.

“I’m sure you came across the director’s retirement announcement in there,” Kevon added with a silly grin.

“Wait, what? He finally made it official?” Marcus asked, sitting up straight in his chair.

He quickly clicked over to his email.

“Man, I’ve been waiting on this announcement for months!” Marcus exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

He glanced back at Kevon.

“You know I’ve had my eye on that position for a long time. I just hope they give me a fair shot at it.”

“I know, right, boss?” Kevon agreed enthusiastically.

“I can see it now! You, the new maintenance director, and me, the new maintenance manager. We’d be the dynamic duo! This place would be in tip-top shape, man!” Kevon declared with a confident grin.

“Let me get the plan for the day going, and I’ll come find you, Kevon,” Marcus replied.

“Copy that, boss!” Kevon answered.

“And make sure your radio is turned up today! I had to call you five times yesterday before you answered!” Marcus called after him.

“Got it, boss! My bad, man!” Kevon replied.

Later that morning, during a quiet moment at work, Marcus pulled his cell phone from his pocket and noticed a missed call notification at the top of his screen. Beside it sat a voicemail notification.

Marcus dialed his voicemail box to check his messages.

“You have three unheard voicemail messages. Message number one, from (555) 473-3434.”

“Hello, Marcus. This is Silas Blackwell, and I’m calling regarding your interest in my complimentary consultation services. I received the information you submitted through my website, and I’d be delighted to speak with you about your financial goals.

I understand that everyone’s financial circumstances are different, and I believe that with the right guidance and a solid plan, we can begin working toward a brighter financial future.

I’d love the opportunity to discuss my Financial Reset Program with you and see how my services might benefit your particular situation.

Please feel free to return my call at your earliest convenience. Again, this is Silas Blackwell. I look forward to speaking with you. Have a wonderful day!”

Marcus lowered his phone and stared at the screen for a moment.

“Well, alright then, Mr. Blackwell,” he murmured.

He tapped the number in his recent calls and pressed the call button.

Marcus leaned back in his chair as the phone began to ring…..

Darkness has a way of convincing a man that the world has run out of light. And when he’s wandered through it long enough, even the smallest glimmer can awaken a hope he thought he’d lost.

Suddenly, tomorrow doesn’t seem so hopeless, and the weight of yesterday feels a little lighter.

There’s a particular hunger that comes from spending too many nights counting what you owe and too few mornings remembering what you’re worth.

And when relief finally seems close enough to touch, a man begins to imagine all the things he once believed were beyond his reach. He starts making plans again, entertaining possibilities he’d long since abandoned.

There’s something beautiful about that moment when the weight of life’s disappointments begins to loosen its grip. Nothing around him may have changed just yet, but something within him has.

For the first time in a long time, he can picture a future that looks different from his past.

“Hello, Silas Blackwell speaking. How may I help you?”….

---

By the time Marcus pulled into his driveway that evening, he was exhausted.

It had been one hell of a day. Between the endless maintenance requests, equipment troubles, and the responsibilities of keeping the plant running, he’d barely had a moment to himself.

All he wanted was a hot shower, something to eat, and a little time with Mo’Ney.

He grabbed his lunch bag from the passenger seat, climbed out of his car, and made his way toward the front door.

Marcus unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Baby? I’m home!” he called out.

Silence.

He closed the door behind him and glanced around the living room.

“Mo’Ney?”

Nothing.

There was no sign of her belongings. No suitcase by the door. No shoes kicked off beside the couch.

Marcus sighed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

A text message from Mo’Ney was waiting for him.

Mo’Ney:

“Hey baby, I’m so sorry! Something came up with work, and I had to head to Dallas earlier than expected. I won’t be able to stay with you before my trip after all. I’ll call you when I get settled. Love you! ❤️”

Marcus stared at the message.

“Damn, Mo’Ney,” he muttered.

He stood there for a moment, still holding his lunch bag.

He’d spent the entire day looking forward to seeing her. After their conversation that morning, he’d hoped they might finally get an opportunity to spend some quality time together.

Instead, here he was.

Alone.

Again.

Marcus dropped his lunch bag onto the kitchen counter and sat down.

He opened their conversation and began typing.

Dear Mo’Ney, Fuck You!

He stared at the words.

His thumb hovered over the send button.

For a moment, he considered pressing it.

After everything he’d done, everything he’d sacrificed, and all the promises he’d made to himself about their future, those words seemed to say exactly what he was feeling.

Marcus leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

He read the message one more time.

Then, slowly, he deleted every word.

He returned to Mo’Ney’s message, pressed and held it, and selected the heart reaction.

A tiny red heart appeared beneath her apology.