"Counterfeit Dreams" by Sasha Ravae
- Sasha Ravae
- Jun 10
- 9 min read
Reagan Taylor thought being a basketball wife would be a dream, but seven-years later...it all turned into a nightmare. When she meets the man of her dreams, she finally tastes real love—but is her past actually ready to let her go?
Jewel Sanchez is a self-made hustler, grinding every day to protect his empire as lieutenant of the M.A.C. Boys. He knows the game—trust no one, keep your money close, and your enemies closer. But when loyalties are tested, who will still be on his side?
Robyn Johnson has it all—money, status, and status. But no amount of designer bags or wild nights can numb the pain she’s been running away from. She’s always been strong, but when life hits harder than ever, will she break?
Brandon Edwards lives by one rule, and one rule only: power is everything. With a short fuse and an even deadlier temper, he’s always gotten his way. But holding on to his empire may cost him more than he can afford. Will he be forced to pay the price...?
In a world where love is a risk and loyalty comes at a price, some dreams are paid for in blood.
Chapter One
Reagan and Styles sat on the sofa watching the highlights on ESPN from his game the night before. He watched himself float down the court and mesmerize his many adoring fans, as he handled the ball. Styles was very animated, so any time he played, he put on a show. Their 52-inch flat screen sat on the wall with the sound on mute. Reagan sat on the opposite end of their ebony leather couch wearing one of Styles’ old t-shirts, and her hair wrapped in a scarf. Styles pulled her out of bed to watch the game with him, but he spent the entire time on the phone.
“…I know, nigga. The shit was crazy. I was doing my thang though. A nigga is really tryna show out ‘cause I gotta renegotiate my contract in a couple months.”
Styles got up and continued his conversation in the kitchen as Reagan sat with her arms folded across her chest. She was beyond irritated. Styles had been in town for only a few days, and this was the first night she had seen him. His team had a home game in Oakland, but he refused to let Reagan attend. He always told her she was a “distraction.”
“Cameron, are you serious, babe?” she whined.
“Let me call you back, bruh,” he said, before putting his phone down on the gray granite countertop. “My bad, Rea, I’m just excited. This is my best season ever. People are really starting to pay attention to a nigga. Do you know what that could mean for me?”
Reagan got up and walked towards their bedroom. “Well, I’ll leave you to yourself then, Cam.”
“Damn, Rea, okay, let me change my clothes, and then we can watch those ‘Bad Girl’ bitches or something.” He grabbed her and sat her down back on the couch. “I’ll be right back. Then, it’s just me and you. Promise.”
Reagan loved Styles. They had been together for seven years, and he was all she knew. She was there before all the money and the fame, but ever since he got drafted into the NBA by the Golden State Warriors two-and-a-half-years ago, their relationship changed. He provided greatly for her, but soon, he replaced his time, love, and affection with jewelry, clothes, and money—but that wasn’t enough for Reagan.
Not wanting to fight, she decided to let her frustrations go for the moment and enjoy the night.
After hearing the shower turn on in their bedroom, Reagan walked into the kitchen and opened the stainless-steel, double-door refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Styles’ phone started ringing on the counter, but she didn’t recognize the number.
They got into it so many times about her going through his phone. He paid the bill, so he felt like whatever was in it was his business—not hers.
Reagan tried to restrain herself, but the voicemail icon continued to taunt her.
Fuck that, she thought. If it’s nothing, then it’s nothing.
It seemed like Styles changed his password more often than he changed his clothes, but somehow, Reagan always figured it out.
“0-4-1-6,” she said, out loud.
“You have entered an incorrect password. Please, try again,” the automated voice instructed.
Reagan laughed. Every time Styles had to change his password, he would set it back to the default password until he thought of a new one.
“9-9-9-9…stupid-ass,” she whispered to herself. She was in.
As his messages began to play, she immediately heard a female’s voice.
“…hey, baby, I had fun last night. I hate that you had to leave this morning. I miss you already. Call me, k? Bye.”
Reagan was heated. Without thinking, she ran into the bedroom and threw the phone at Styles who was sitting on the bed putting on his clothes. The phone barely missed his head.
“What bitch were you with last night?” she roared with tears lining her cheeks. These arguments were so typical. Reagan expected groupies to be a part of Styles’ new lifestyle. She just didn’t think that he would ever go for them. But to him, this was the life of a nigga in the league.
“Get outta here with that shit, Rea.” Styles grabbed his phone and saw that he had a missed call from Lanae. He met her while he was in town a couple months ago and saw her from time-to-time when he came home.
“Now, you can’t answer…? Nigga, fuck you. I keep going through all this bullshit for what, Cam? So, you can leave me at home by myself while you go out and fuck the world? I’m cool.” Reagan grabbed her white Louis Vuitton luggage set down from the closet and snatched down random clothes, stuffing them inside her bags. She didn’t know what she was bringing or where she was going, but she knew she had to go.
“You’re doing hella extra-ass shit,” he said, getting up and snatching the bags from out her hands.
“Fuck you,” she spat. “These hoes are steadily popping up, but I’m not supposed to say shit? Fuck all that! All the money in the world ain’t worth this shit. You’re not worth this shit.” She grabbed her duffle bag from Styles.
He allowed her to pack up her side of the closet as he watched her struggle to fit everything inside her five-piece set.
“So, where are you going, Rea?” he laughed. Reagan’s episodes were hilarious to him. He knew she had nowhere to go—he was all she had.
“To my nigga’s house,” she said, before wiping the remaining tears from her face.
Styles shot into the closet and grabbed her by her throat. She clawed at his arms trying to release his grip.
“Bitch, where?” He looked at her like he expected her to answer. Reagan knew he would kill her if she ever cheated on him. The thought alone sent him over the edge. “You won’t ever leave me. Know that…okay?”
Styles kissed Reagan on her lips, letting her body drop to the floor as she gasped for air. Coughing until she caught her breath, she sat on the closet floor massaging her neck as Styles grabbed his phone from off the bed and disappeared back into the living room.
$$$$$
The next day, Reagan woke up sore. She had blue and purplish bruises covering her neck.
She stared in the mirror and tried to adjust her sweater to cover up the reminders of the night before. After being with the Warriors for a year-and-a-half, Styles decided to move from a townhouse in the Oakland Hills to a condo in San Francisco with Reagan by his side. The change wasn’t big, but she still hated it. She had become accustomed to living in Oakland after moving from Sacramento, and she didn’t want to have to start all over again. The short trip across the Bay Bridge gave her anxiety. She was trapped in Styles’ dreams and ambitions. Each of them required her to just look the part of a NBA player’s wife, so she had to surround herself with less and less people who didn’t help her fit that image. Her family was from Sacramento, but many of them moved to Atlanta a few years back. The only person Reagan could turn to was Styles’ sister Robyn. They became close over the years, but anytime Reagan did anything, Robyn ran back and told her brother, so Reagan was reluctant to call her looking for support. She felt like a broken record always calling Robyn after they fought, but she had to get out of the house.
“Hello?” Robyn answered with sleep still in her voice.
“Hey, girl…what you doing?”
“Do you…know…what today is? It’s your anniversary!” she sang in her best Tony Toni Tone voice. “Where’s Styles? I tried to call him earlier, but he didn’t pick up.”
“Bitch, where you think?”
“What happened now?”
“Same shit, but fuck that…what’s Sac looking like? I need to get out of this house. I’m ‘bout to be on my way out there,” Reagan said, grabbing her cheetah-print Betsey Johnson purse off the couch.
“You really gon’ drive out here? I’m pretty sure you should be spending your anniversary with your nigga, Reagan.”
“You would think that, huh? Well, he’s not here, and I don’t have shit else to do.”
“Okay, see you when you get here, Rea,” Robyn said, not in the mood to argue.
As Reagan was walking out of the door, she noticed a bunch of flowers sitting on the dining room table. When she walked back into the house, there were fifty pink orchids sitting in a Swarovski crystal vase with a white card lying next to it.
Happy anniversary, Reagan. You mean the world to me, even though I’m not good at showing it…
Reagan balled up the card and threw it on the floor, as she continued to make her way towards the front door. She was not at all impressed with the gesture.
She wasn’t even five-minutes away from the house before Styles called.
“Hey, babe, you get your gift?”
“Yeah, Cameron, the flowers are really nice…thanks.”
“Thanks?” Styles asked with confusion dripping from his voice.
“What else do you expect me to say? I’m pretty sure that it’s our fucking anniversary, and I’m by myself…again, while you’re probably out with those groupie-ass bitches. Must be nice.”
“Rea, you know I have a game tomorrow, right? The coach doesn’t allow bitches before a game,” he laughed.
“Yeah, whatever, Cameron, I’m busy, so I’ll talk to you later, okay? Good luck on your game though.”
“Rea, I love you.”
“Right…”
$$$$$
Two-hours later, Reagan pulled into Robyn’s driveway. The entire drive out to Sacramento was filled with thoughts of Styles. His infidelity was a constant occurrence in their relationship. As much as it happened, Reagan thought she would become numb enough to overlook it, but each time hurt like the first. She didn’t understand why she allowed Styles to use and walk all over her, but despite everything he did, she still loved him.
Ten-minutes later, her small Lexus coupe felt like an inferno.
Not able to bear the Sacramento heat any longer, she got out of the car and walked up Robyn’s driveway. When she got to the front door, it was unlocked as usual, so she let herself in. She could hear Robyn running around upstairs.
“Rea?” she yelled.
“Yeah, bitch, you ready?”
“Damn-near. You got out here fast.” Robyn was putting the finishing touches on her make-up. “Come upstairs. I’m almost done.”
Reagan walked up two flights of stairs to get to Robyn’s third-level. The whole area was used as her dressing room, and every time Reagan came over, she felt like she was at the mall. The furniture was covered with unopened shopping bags from Christian Dior, Gucci, Prada, and Jean Paul Gaultier. Robyn stood in front of her full-length mirror admiring her body. She wore a size 10, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. She was built like a goddess.
“Robyn, why do you buy all this stuff knowing you not gon’ wear it?” Reagan asked, watching her continue to try on clothes.
“‘Cause a bitch like me needs options,” she laughed. “And why you all up in mine? Here’s a better question though…why do you have that black-ass sweater on, and it’s 100° outside? You are not in the City anymore.”
Reagan pulled down her sweater and showed Robyn the bruises that covered her neck. This was not the first time she had seen marks on Reagan’s body, but it shocked her every time. She didn’t want to believe that her brother was capable of doing something like that to any woman. Robyn knew that Styles and Reagan’s relationship had been rough lately, but she didn’t know it was that bad.
“Okay, you didn’t drive out here for nothing, Rea. Let’s go,” she said, trying her best to ignore her friend’s situation.
“Bitch, you know I can’t go anywhere. Look at my neck. I just wanted to get out of the house. We can chill here. I’m not trippin’.”
“Let me take care of it.”
Robyn grabbed her make-up case, and they were out the door.
🖤 Ready for more?
Some dreams come with a price—and Reagan’s just got the bill.
Tell me what you’re thinking in the comments:🩸 Should she leave?🕯 Would you?
The full book is available now on Amazon—for FREE. Download it, binge it, and meet the rest of the cast that will test her love, her loyalty, and her limits.
Comments