The following is the full first chapter of Sweet Dreams

“Little girl, you will never amount to anything. Not a single solitary thing. Your life is worthless you hear me! I don’t even know why you keep waking up in the morning. Now understand this, when I say jump, you say how high, not why. You don’t question me. I am your mother. Not your friend, not your sister, your mother. And what I say is law. Remember that if you don’t remember anything else in life. Remember that Dream!” My mother spewed her darts of hatred in my direction. I had learned to block her hurtful words out when I knew that she was drunk. Her breath smelled immensely drowned in the precise scent of Hennessey. Brown liquor, I never understood why she had this thing for brown liquor but from what I heard it could have been worse. It could have been light liquor that could have been her downfall. But light liquor wasn’t her flavor, brown liquor was. I had heard that vodka was one of the worst of all liquors and should never divulged in heavy doses. To me the same could have been said about brown liquor, or even more so Hennessey.

When my mother went into her temper tantrums I was her instant target. She was bitter at the world but the world wasn’t at home alone with us. We lived on the fourth floor of a Bridgeport high rise apartment building nick named the Greens. The hallways had the same pissy stench that reverberated in most project hallways. The floors were cold and hard like a prison cell and there was little space to get away from the constant rants of my mothers screams.

Every day that I had come to our apartment I was constantly reminded that I was never going to have a home. Not as long as I lived with my mother in the Greens. I had an address for the time being, but not a place where I could call home. The legendary song by the late Luther Vandross was never more true to me when it came to the place where I resided with my mother. An apartment was not a home with no one standing there to welcome me.

Sadly things had been this way for years. My mother had never accepted the fact that my father felt that she wasn’t woman enough to command his attention at all times. He left when I was three and hadn’t been back since. Therefore for thirteen years I had to live with mood swings from my mother and her constant alcoholism.

Trust, if there was another way that I could have provided for myself without having to succumb to the welfare system of the state of Connecticut I would have been out of there a long time ago. I suppose in some ways one could suggest that I was a subject of the State of Connecticut’s welfare system through my mother, then respond what was the big deal? Well, that fact in itself was enough to turn my stomach away from being dependant on the state.

All my life I had been witness to my mother’s lack of motivation. She used me for a check and free rent. Food stamps were our way of life not because she did not have another way, but because she was unmotivated to get a job. Instead she loved to hustle here and there, drinking and partying like she was the sixteen year old.

“Look at you, over there looking like your daddy. I should have aborted you when I got pregnant, but the only thing you are good for is a check, taxes and the damn dishes!” Her words were hurtful but I continued to block them out of my mind. I started to sing to myself Mary J. Blidge’s song “No More Drama”. Only, for me the drama would never end, but the song gave me some hope that there would be a change soon coming.

I longed for school, and work. Those were the times that I could be away from my mother and could truly clear my mind from her mess. Unfortunately it was a Friday night and school was two days away. I had to work on Saturday but it would only be a short day at the hair salon. I was in the midst of thinking of what else I could do when my mother began talking her craziness.

The siren from the phone ringing pierced through the chaos of our home. “Get the phone little girl, it aint for nobody but you anyway. I’m going to cut the thing off you know! Keep testing me which your smart little self.”

I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her as I went to answer the phone, respecting her was hard to do which regardless of her actions was necessary because she was my mother in the end. “Dream?” A woman was half weeping on the other end of the line. I recognized her voice faintly.

“Ms. Dawkins?”

“Dream....” she wailed my name like it was causing her pain. My heart sank right then, I knew that if she was calling me then there was nothing that could have been good about the phone call.

“Yes ma’am?” I wanted to comfort her, the pain in her voice was evident. She was my best friend Adrian’s mother.

“My baby is gone!!!” She wept through the phone line. Now that line puzzled me because to my knowledge, Adrian and her mother had never been close and that was the main reason that Adrian and I were so tight. I questioned as to how Ms. Dawkins could be claiming such closeness now.

Her next words cemented me to the floor, I felt as though I would fall out from duress. “Ms. Dawkins what are you saying?”

“Adrian killed her self.” She cried.

“What!!” That couldn’t be! Adrian had been my only refuge for years. We had met in jr. high and were inseparable since then.

“She shot her self with David’s gun, there’s a letter here that she wrote to you and the police are asking you to come and get it. They won’t let me read it because it’s addressed to you. I should be able to read it, I am her mother!!!” she screamed into the phone.

In panic I spoke, “Okay, I’m coming over give me about twenty minutes.” I threw the phone on the cradle rushing to my room to grab my belongings and some change for the bus before running out the door.

My mother screamed behind me, “What’s going on?” I left her question unanswered. I couldn’t deal with her just then. I couldn’t ask her for a ride to get there sooner because she didn’t own a car. It wasn’t uncommon in Bridgeport for people to go their lives without driving because the transit system was everywhere. Tears were streaming down my face like a free falling waterfall. My heart was beating against my chest so hard I could feel every pump.

There had to be a mistake, my best friend could not have been dead. No, this was not happening. My mind raced a million miles a minute. I frantically pushed the button at the elevator before I decided that I couldn’t wait for it. Impatient I rushed to the stairwell jumping down the stairs taking them ten at a time. I was rushing recklessly needing only to get to where my best friend was.

When I finally got outside and let the fresh air meet my face, the coldness made me shiver and shake from head to toe. I couldn’t afford to allow the cold to slow me down. The immense mounds of snow that was on either side of the sidewalk was not a hindrance either. Not when I had a determination on my heart.

Without consideration of the hard exterior I was trying to uphold, my tears invaded my eyes once again spilling across my face. My chest got tight again, I felt as though I was not going to be able to breathe, once again. I felt as though it might be me that might be next to die, once again.

The bus stop that was right outside of my apartment building was packed with people needing to get to destinations that did not concern me. Again, impatience crept up in my bones. The bus being nowhere in sight and Adrian’s home on Iranistan Ave was not that far off.

I turned, starting to run as fast as I could through the snow and slush trying to get to her. I had never ran so fast in my life. I could have won an Olympic medal as swift as I was moving. I ran around corners and through alleys wishing that my legs were faster than they appeared.

Adrian couldn’t have been dead, I thought, it was our sophomore year in high school. We had so much looking up for us. We had planned on going on a college tour that was sponsored by the Smart Start program in just two weeks. I needed my girl to go with me and help me make a move out of the hood. I needed my girl to help me have hope that there was a way out. We had gone through so much just to be approved to go on the trip. All that year my mother had ranted about how she wasn’t going to sign no papers to allow me to carry my ‘fast ass’ down to no HBSU college tour. I begged and pleaded and eventually paid her one hundred dollars to allow me to go. My mother didn’t break down until the money was in her hand. While some would consider the bribe to be a trifling road block in the way of my future, I was used to her behavior.

Every time my mother thought that I was doing something to better myself she lashed out at me. She had done everything in her will to keep me from doing better in life but I was going to make her eat her words when I made it.

Adrian could not be dead.

I didn’t slow down until I finally got close to her street. It was as if the world had halted and desired to go slow motion. The evening air made me cringe a little but not much.

So many emergency vehicles were outside her home. An ambulance and several police cars were everywhere. I didn’t feel myself moving closer to her home until I was right up on the fence that surrounded her home. The green siding seemed so familiar. Cats were prancing around her home as though they had no idea that a tragedy lay inside. I was a moment away from finding out that what I hoped had been a misunderstanding, was actually reality.

I recall constant flickers from CSI cameras capturing everything in the house. Wailing came from the kitchen where Adrian’s mother was talking to two detectives. For some reason their compassion seemed insincere.

“Can I help you?” an officer finally said to me after I had made it all up and through the house.

I saw blood on the carpet, a gun on the floor and a chair in the middle of the living room. I looked from the scene to Ms. Dawkins and back. I just assumed that there had to be a mistake, but apparently not. I lost my best friend.

“Young lady, young lady, can I help you?”

“Ms. Dawkins called me.” I said in a low whisper wondering where Adrian was. She wasn’t in the chair. I wondered if Ms. Dawkins had come home from work and found her there, I had just talked to her that day. Only a few hours earlier at school, we talked about going on our trip. She sounded excited at the time. But in hind sight, I wondered if that was the truth. Sadly, I would never find out.

“Dream!” Ms. Dawkins howled my name making the two detectives look in my direction. “Johnson, we will handle this.” One of the detectives said motioning in my direction. “Dream, we’ve been waiting for you. I thank you for coming as swift as you did.”

“What is going on?” I was still in denial. I knew full and well what was going on but I couldn’t believe it fully. No matter how much blood I had seen or the gun laying on the floor, not even Ms. Dawkins crying made me completely believe it.

“We’d like to talk to you for a moment. First, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Ms. Dawkins glared at me upon the detectives words as though I didn’t deserve them. Oh, I deserved them. “She left a suicide note but she expressly addressed that it be opened and read by you. Normally, and considering the circumstances we would have read it. But in light of the situation we wanted to honor her wishes. We need you to open it, read it and then we will need it back to record it as evidence. Once the case is closed we can return it to you if you would like it. I am certain that it will be relatively soon, normally these cases are open and shut but you will understand our need to hold on to the letter for a bit?”

The question he posed was more like a general statement than anything. He didn’t really want to ask for my permission. He was just being polite. He could see the pain in my eyes as he held out the letter to me.

Ironically enough she had written it on stationary that had the saying ‘too blessed to be stressed’ on it. The outside of the letter was addressed as precisely as the detective suggested. I was surprised that Ms. Dawkins hadn’t opened it. I could understand the detectives requesting my presence but she had reasons to not want me there. In more ways then one she had verbalized her disdain for my relationship with Adrian. Ms. Dawkins knew she neglected her only child. Her major focus had been her boyfriend for sometime leaving Adrian to fend for herself in life. Therefore the only person in the world that shared her pain was me. The only way that Ms. Dawkins didn’t open the letter before me was if she didn’t see it. The detectives must have retrieved it at a later time.

I opened the envelope slowly being careful not to tear it too much. I unfolded the inner pages which were hand written. I didn’t know whether they wanted me to read it aloud or not but everyone’s eyes were on me so I felt compelled to do so.

Dream,

I love you so much. You are the sister that I always wanted and I am sorry that I have to do this to you. But I have to get out of this life. Death must be better than this. We have shared on many occasions our similar struggles and I know that more than anyone else, you would understand why I had to do this.

Please don’t think any less of me. I will explain it all here, as much as I can. What I don’t want to happen is you going through life not knowing why I did this. I had to do this. I know that we had plans to make it out the ‘port but I can’t wait to get out. I mean everyday I hurt more and more.

I’ve got a secret that I only told one other person in life. And when I told her she called me a liar. But this secret is one that I can no longer live with and I must end it all. I have to.

My mother’s boyfriend has been molesting and raping me for more than two years now. And I just confirmed I am pregnant with his child. I can’t birth a bastard child. He will deny it, my mother won’t have me because when I told her that he was touching me she didn’t believe me. She made me feel as though I had done something to bring this on to myself. That’s not the case. Trust me it’s not. I never once enjoyed what he was doing to me. I just didn’t know where else to turn after my mother shot me down.

I didn’t want this in life. I did nothing to make this man do what he has been doing to me. I hated coming home because of him and he told me no one would believe me so this is the only way that I could make everyone listen.

Hopefully they can test my babies dna and confirm that he is the father. I saw on t.v. they could do that and I hope they can so that they will believe me. I know he is because I was a virgin before him, I hate that man and I wish him hell with me for what he has done to me.

Dream, please remember the good times that we have had. Don’t let this tear your memory of me from your thoughts. I want you to remember me and make me a promise that you will get out and live your life. Get out for both of us.

I hope God will forgive me for taking my life and I pray that I will see you again one day in heaven. I’m so sorry if I’ve disappointed you and for hiding this from you. But trust that I love you like a sister.

Adrian

“She’s a liar! Even in death she is a liar!” Ms. Dawkins screamed jumping up from the table as though she wanted to attack me. Her actions confirmed Adrian’s confession. Her mother was not defending her daughters honor, she preferred to uphold her no good man instead. “That girl done killed her self and she trying to blame my man, he aint never touch her.”

“Ma’am we need you to calm down.” The detective pronounced.

“I will not! I will not sit here and let you all come in my home and assume my man was doing anything to her. She killed her self for some other reason. That is not true. Dream, give me that letter, I am going to burn it!”

I was certain that Ms. Dawkins must have had a stroke of insanity as there was no way in hell that I was going to give her a damn thing. The detectives, who were now emotionally confused about what I had read and Ms. Dawkins’s actions, proceeded to restrain her. “Ms. Dawkins, I’m afraid that will not be an option. Where is your boyfriend we’d like to ask him some questions.”

“I don’t know where he is but if I did I wouldn’t tell you!” she replied.

“Ma’am please tell us where he is.”

“No! I can’t believe you are pursuing this. Even in death the little whore lies!” Ms. Dawkins screamed translating her pain for the loss of her daughter to her pain in the soon to be loss of her boyfriend. I could not believe that she was defending him. Rather than taking up for her child who was now gone, she was defending a raggedy pedophile. I stood there in silence, astonished that even after her daughter’s death this woman would have no compassion in her heart. The tears that she had shed earlier seemed fake as they changed like a chameleon in front of our eyes, it was disgusting.

“Ma’am we must pursue this. If what your daughter is stating in this letter is true we must look into the issue. And it will start with the autopsy where we will retrieve your daughter’s baby for dna testing. Now it will be in your best interest to tell us now where this man is otherwise what will happen is a number of things. First I will personally look into everything about you and him. Then I will charge you will interfering with an investigation. Then I will make sure that someone is posted up twenty four hours in front of your door until this sick man decides he wants to come home. And trust lady when we lock him up, there won’t be anything for you to remember him by because I will make sure to tell his new prison buddies that he likes little kids. So you choose lady, because you already chose death for your little girl who is the one that deserves your tears!” The detective exclaimed. I imagined him thinking of Adrian as his own daughter and not understanding why her own mother was unable to sympathize with the young deceased girl. I cried for my best friend. Her mother was ill, she had to be. Adrian was gone. The only thing that marked her presence to the world now was a vacant chair and a blood stained carpet. I hated life.

The following is the full first chapter of Keith’s Story

Copyright Keith’s Story © 2007 Nikkea Smithers

1

In the middle of the ghetto there are no fairy tales. There are no fairy godmothers or magical little pawns. There is no sign of Santa Clause because there are no chimneys. There are no fairies placing shiny coins underneath pillows because in the ghetto natural cause is normally not the reason for children’s missing teeth.

A child’s tooth would be missing because it fell out due to malnutrition or being met by a huge fist. Godmothers would be teenage mother’s homegirls. Christmas presents are filled with hand made gifts from things around the house being recycled to be made new. The single parents went into debt trying to buy their child elaborate gifts they knew they couldn’t afford.

This place known as the ghetto was where I grew up. And I never knew a thing about a fairytale, but I knew enough about nightmares to shake your soul.

When I was seven I didn’t know I was in the ghetto because my mother went through extra strides to make sure that I wouldn’t notice. I never saw a cold day. I never went hungry. I may not have had the biggest or the best but I had. I was her one and only son and we lived in a housing development called Cardboard City.

Cardboard City got its name based on the fact that the apartment complexes were built with such cheap material that if the wind blew too hard the entire foundation would shake. The heat was operated by the landlords whom made sure that it was broiling in the day and freezing at night. My mother used to keep electric heaters on all around the house to offset the landlord’s shortcomings. I recall my mother doing her best to make sure that roaches stayed at bay. She sprayed boric acid, laid roach motels and used every other type of fumigation possible to keep the roaches far from home. Unfortunately when you lived next door to people who didn’t give a damn whether or not they were breeding a family of roaches, you did all you could. We were surrounded by such people and one had to expect that you would get a visit from the friendliest of insects. The ones, whom never knocked, left or paid rent. While I had gotten used to looking forward to killing one every day, my mother never became used to it and I couldn’t blame her.

When I was seven I couldn’t have asked for much more. I was a good son to my mother, a momma’s boy if you will. I diligently completed deeds such as run to the corner store for anything my mother needed or asked of me. Now as I reflect back I recall my mother tricked me into getting her pads at the store by calling them sanitary napkins. I didn’t know any better, and didn’t care either, if she needed them she would have them.

I knew my mother loved me because of her actions up until that point. Seven years old, but I knew her love for me was real. However there was one thing that I felt my mother loved more than me at that time, and that was her boyfriend Ray.

I hated Ray with a passion that burned like a never ending candle. He was an asshole in every aspect of the word. I was so grateful that he wasn’t my real father, and my despising him only subsided to that fact. It did not however, take away from the fact that he was as much a constant in my life as my mother was. There was a point where I thought he would be there forever to taunt me, and remind me that he hated me just as much as I hated him. As far as my mother was concerned she wouldn’t leave Ray for the world regardless of the fact that he was an avid heroin user. I guess my mother didn’t see it, or didn’t care, but I did. Even though I should not have known what heroin was at such a young age, I did, and it was all because of Ray.

I wondered often how she could miss such an obvious factor. He had the junkie itch and would scratch at his skin profusely. His skin was covered in holes from the way he picked at his skin. He had needle track marks all up and down his arms that were enhanced by dark circles. He wore long shirts most of the time to try and camouflage this fact but I wasn’t blind. It scared me out of my own skin every time I saw him itch and he’d lift up his sleeve to reveal the cause of my nightmares.

My mother, on the other hand, only saw his humor and charm and his willingness to be dedicated only to her and what ever else he had to bring to the table. My youth would not allow me to see what was so damn spectacular about him. What I saw was a damn dope fiend. Someone I thought would steal more than my mother’s heart. I thought he’d also steal her shit trying to feed his habit.

I never heard of him working a regular job., he always talked about this gig or that. It was obvious that he was into the street life and maybe that was another factor that attracted my mother to him. I had heard that good girls lusted for bad guys in the worst way. She was destined to prove that theory correct in my opinion. To my understanding my own father was one of those bad guys that never looked back once he heard my mother was pregnant with me. He was very much into the street life. My mother never said much more about him to me than that.

Despite not having my own father around I did not want anything to do with Ray. I often found myself having to baby sit him when he was supposed to be babysitting me. I’d watch to make sure he didn’t become sticky fingers while I watched television. I always kept my ears open, always wanting to catch him on the phone with someone else other than my mother, so I could tell on him and break them up.

One night in May my mother decided that she wanted to go and hang out on the town with my aunt. “Be good for momma,” she said tenderly to me just before kissing me on the forehead and leaving me alone with Ray. My eyes begged for her not to leave me with that demon of a man but I knew better than to verbalize it. My mother did not stand for me acting out and I never wanted to disappoint her.

Ray suffocated me with the smell of liquor strong on his breath and his hunger for the night was just beginning. He walked into my room after me in a futile attempt to begin a conversation. “What’s up lil nigga?” he said standing at the door, leaning on it for support. In my mind I imagined myself becoming telekinetic and moving the beam his shoulder rested on so that he would fall hopelessly to the ground. Apparently my powers weren’t strong enough because he just stayed right there damn near mocking me.

His presence repulsed me to no end but I didn’t have a choice but to endure his company. “Hi,” I replied trying not to pay him too much attention. My hope was that he would get the hint and leave me the hell alone. I sat on top of my bed flipping through the channels on television trying to stay awake. My body wanted to sleep but my mind wouldn’t let it happen, I knew that if I did I would wake up and all my mothers shit would be gone.

“Young nigga you need to live a lil, you always tight up in your ass. You’re like a little momma’s boy. You sure you aint no sissy now are you?” His verbiage made no sense to me so I simply ignored him. I didn’t fully know what a sissy was but I had a slim idea that it was a more vulgar term for a homosexual.

The only reason I even knew that was because there was a couple that lived down the street from us that. One day when I was walking to the bus stop with one of my friends he told me that the two guys were homosexuals and not just roommates. He further explained that the two guys had a relationship with each other like my mother had with Ray. I still didn’t understand it at that age but the analogy made it clearer for me to understand the term.

Ray sat down next to me on my small twin size bed. The coils in the bed shifted as his weight eased me up higher on the mattress slightly. I scooted over a little uncomfortable in my underoos.

“Oh you just gonna ignore a nigga, it’s all good. I’ve got shit I need to do anyway.” Ray tied a belt strap around his forearm tight enough for his veins to protrude out and form long thick outstanding lines. He then began to pluck at his arm as if he didn’t see his veins sticking out. “Yeah that’s the shit I’m talking about” he announced as though something amazing had just happened.

I looked at him in further disgust wondering if his act was something that he simply had to do in front of me. It was as if he didn’t have the common sense that God gave him to know that some things weren’t for little boys to see. Did he even care that what he was doing was going to change my entire out look on life forever. Did he not understand, that moment was a critical moment at such a young age to either peak my curiosity in drugs or hate them? I was intelligent enough at that age to know that I wasn’t supposed to be seeing that mess. Still the outrage didn’t turn my eyes from their curious position. My only positive thought was maybe this was his way of doing a public service announcement to show me just how bad drugs were. It worked.

“Do you have to do that in here?” I asked. I knew if my mother had been home he would not have been doing that in front of me. In front of her was one thing, she was grown, but to do that shit in front of a child there had to be laws against it. She had to know about his habit, but still she trusted him to be home alone with me. So what could I say? Who would believe me? Who would care about what I thought? Obviously she thought there was no harm in his antics.

It was at that moment that I wished that I could instantly turn into a grown man. That way I would be able to defend my mothers honor and kick his monkey ass out of her house. Unfortunately I had no such luck, I was stuck having grown man thoughts in a little boy’s body. “Who the hell do you think you talking to youngin? Just mind your fucking business. I can do my shit wherever the hell I want to!” Ray exclaimed as he took out a needle that was filled with a translucent liquid that was going to take him where he needed to be. I silently prayed that place was hell and hoped he’d stay there.

Years later that image remained in my head. He was a hopeless dope fiend without good sense or morals. I saw first hand what the after effects of drugs would do to a person. It was not pleasing, it disturbed me so much that my stomach became sick. He was my ever resounding public service message. I never would have a desire to do any type of drug due to Ray, I believe that was the only good thing he had ever done for me.

I watched in disgust as Ray jammed the needle into his arm. Instantly the translucent liquid became mixed with blood before it was pushed back into his blood stream forcefully. I had never seen anything like that before and never wanted to see it again. Years later I had read about dope fiends in Donald Goines books. Those characters would later take me back to memories of Ray. “Woo!” Ray let out a sigh of relief, “Hey, hey now!”

He began to rub his crotch ferociously as though the drug made a burning sensation rush through his body. I was still dumbfounded by it all. He continued to feel himself as though masturbation was something a child of seven should be a witness to. He started to tap his leg on the hard wood floor feeling the sensitivity of his hard instrument. The look in his eye of yearning for a climax scared me when they met my own more timid eyes.

I immediately sensed that I was in danger, however, my little legs wouldn’t carry me far enough fast enough as Ray grabbed me by the collar of my shirt screaming, “Get your lil ass over here nigga!”

The next thing I felt was his immensely large hand coming down on me like a cast iron. “Wham!” The stinging sensation blinded me terribly as I was taken completely by surprise and knocked off balance. He threw me on the bed with brute force. He dealt with me as though he wasn’t dealing with a child, he was handling me like a man of his age and girth.

In one swift movement he laid on top of me using his legs as dead weight on my shoulders. I thought I would simply die in seconds if I did not get out of this mans grasp. I couldn’t get away, my arms were crushed and I knew that they would be bruised. I tried frantically to think of something I could do to get away from him. However without warning he jammed his raw penis into my mouth. That was the point where my spirit died. He needed not to use bullets, a grenade, a knife nor drug to do the job. He had successfully killed my childhood and dreams with that one action.

I was mortified beyond belief! How could he do such a thing to such a young child? My heart sank deep below the mattress and it was captured by the floor. I felt cold all over my body and was tempted to bite the phallic off. Ray slapped me again with his broad hand as though he anticipated my next move as to say “Don’t you fucking try it!”

So many thoughts clouded my mind as I sat there trapped against my will with Ray taking what he wanted from me. It was at that moment that I made the vow to myself to never allow myself to succumb to such a drug that would allow me to act the way that Ray was acting. I hated him beyond belief. Making a promise to myself that if it was the last thing I did in life I would kill him by the very thing that he had used to kill my spirit.

Without warning the empty space in my mouth surrounding his penis filled with the most disgusting hot acidic fluid that I never would forget the taste of. At the time I had no idea what it was but knew that its arrival had finally brought Ray relief and my spirit death.

Ray climbed off me leaving me throwing up on the side of my bed a mixture of semen and regurgitation. Sensing that it was late and that my mother would soon return Ray quickly thought of how he could keep me quiet. He retrieved a towel from the hallway closet and grabbed his gun from his coat.

I was enraged heaving in and out desperately trying to erase the instant replay of my rape in my mind. “I hate you!” I screamed trying to catch my breath. Tears flowed so freely from my eyes that I was having trouble catching up to them. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would eventually stop from being over worked and I wouldn’t mind if it did. Then and only then would I have been free.

“What the hell ever, here clean that shit up,” Ray announced as he threw the towel in my direction. He walked closer to me and I barely flinched. What more could I fear? The worst thing that could happen to me had already transpired. There was nothing more that I could imagine that man could do to hurt me.

“I hate you!” I yelled spewing the daggers called my eyes in his direction.

He let out a tortured laugh before he made his next statement clear, “And I don’t like your punk ass either, you give good head though, you sure you aint no faggot?”

“You’s the faggot!” I cried not having full knowledge of what he was talking about.

“Yeah sure anyway,” Ray brought his hand gun in my full view. I didn’t gasp nor was I frightened. I wanted to pull the trigger. He could have taken me out of my misery right then and I wouldn’t beg for redemption. I was only seven and I knew that God spared children and fools. “If you love your momma you better keep this shit a secret. If I find out you told any damn body, I’m going to blow her fucking head off, and it will be entirely your fault.”

Those words haunted me for years. I never got close to my mother for that very reason. Even after my mother separated from Ray I was afraid that if I told her or anyone else Ray would kill her. One thing was certain, I had to kill him first.

Below is a sneak peek of Attitudes of a Woman

© Nikkea Lewis 2006

Deepthought Inspired

Parody toxic and erotic vibes
pressure taking it’s place on the outskirts of my
symbol of love or lust or love box
The passionate one ready for delay but heart wrenching
feeling caught in this
deep warm tingling swinging feeling of emotion
mine yours and everything in between
it’s like never before had I trusted but now I find
myself opening up feeling every days shower
part of me wants to break away
while the rest of me stays peaceful as it may be
the milky way would be mine I’ll share it
maybe…

and maybe I’ll simply
let it linger on your tongue
like an after taste
like a midnight snack
blessed by a sunset
hopeful like a holiday
promise in question like tomorrow
will it come?
Maybe it will
maybe we wont wake up
and God will shift our souls
Take our heart beat
Hold it in his hands
include the key to the gates
Show it off like a gem
and place it back with a kiss!

Pain

I’ve known a few
deep heart wrenching cries in my lifetime…
building masterpieces in the corners of my eyes
making the color around my cornea a beet red
by orchestrating lines of distractions
In spontaneous comparisons
Followed by morning after migraines
yes I know pain…
You see I’ve been through things
Yes I’ve known of situations that could shake your soul
uncontrollably without doubt remorse or reason
agitating my eye lids until they flutter
like a butterfly in a delicate hand
I am that butterfly, with oblong polka dots
painted briefly on fragile wings I’ve remembered things
imagined them in deja vu dominance
Playing with my intellect
Threatening to come again & disrupt my way of life
Send empty promises with bows and ribbons
carefully in place of disappointment
Storming my emotions by clouds of disgust
Hiding provision like the thickness of my thighs
Demanding respect while offering humiliation
Ten times past temptation, we are at war with self
Pretend you were never involved with it all if you may
I’m more into the peace in mind if you know what I mean and
The pain, we’ve been there, I’ve known a few
I’ve experienced situations and remember things, every thing
But in the end, it is what it is
And without the pain
I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the pleasure of the right now Pain…

If all I have are my words

This one thing is true if I all I have
worth anything in this world are my words
then I will be alright because I'd then find a pad or a pen
if not some tissue paper or a napkin
a piece of charcoal or some chalk
a crayon or even a fallen feather
and a pool of ink and no canvas would be safe
not a wall, a blank computer screen,
a discarded piece of paper not a thing would be free
I'd find it and I'd write if I couldn't talk I would write
If I couldn't hear I'd still write
and if I were blind then I would make dots in Braille
and I'd speak them back because someone
some where would need to hear my words because
They are important to someone I don't even know
They need to hear it or even I would need to hear
my own words written on anything that I could find
to encourage my day and keep me going
placing a smile on my face
and I would know that if all I had were my words
everything would still be alright....

At one point you inspired many things in me
new poems, thoughts and ideas about life in general
is it true? That everything is good when love is brand new?
Because now I feel a constant strain of contortions
I'm struggling to make something work when I don't feel
that you are I'm curving my words to heal the wounds of our
in desperate need of an intervention' relationship
The same one that used to bring a sparkle in your eyes
in the middle of the night when you would lean over and
kiss the delicate portion of my arm now you revert to leaving me frustrated with cigarette scorned fantasies of how we used to be and to ponder on how the hell did we get here?
Not necessarily at the point of no return
but more than definitely at a point where we should
reconsider this entire thing before we end up
on the wrong side of each others liking
I used to like the way you transformed our days events
from being just another day in front of the TV.
But now I despise the way we no longer do the things
we used to do, I wonder if my expectation
from the beginning was brought up too high
and now that the energy is no longer rendered
I'm chasing that feeling of euphoria that once was
That has to be it because the feeling of a fiend
Trying to relinquish the flavor of their first high
is exactly the way I would describe it
Why do we do this to each other?
Place each other on such high pedestals when we meet
Show just how gentlemanly or womanly we can be
express why it is a must that you pick me?
Why in the beginning do we throw up our hands in
a need to be wanted or needed by the opposing?
Only to see everything that we can be in the beginning
and end up with everything we never wanted in the end
And to think, all I ever wanted was the same kiss
You offered for free in the beginning...
...entangled with yesterday's passion

Here is a sneak peek at the full first chapter of the debut novel Gold Diggin' by author

Nikkea "Auset" Lewis

Gold Diggin' © Nikkea "Auset" Lewis 2005 (1st chapter)

What a day, What a day

Goldie flung her keys on the vacant coffee table that lay in the corridor of her two bedroom town home. The rain outside was pounding down on the pavement to bring a frustrating end to an even more frustrating day. As she walked down her hallway towards the living room she was increasingly annoyed when the heel of her red pumps snapped in half. “Dammit!” She cursed loud enough to make sirens hush. She could have halted right there to break down and cry however that was not about to be apart of her plan. Instead she headed in the direction of her bedroom to recoup.

She flicked on the light switch to her master bedroom and threw her moist briefcase onto the floor. Tossing the pumps into the garbage she headed into the bathroom. Today would be the day if any to utilize the spa features in her Jacuzzi like bath tub. Stopping the tub up, she filled the basin with water, bath beads and a liquid substance that set off a relaxing aroma to sing a lullaby to her emotions.

Walking back into the bedroom she went straight to her closet to get her silky pajama set. It was a splendid skin caresser that she bought cheap from a lingerie party. The party that she attended at a coworker’s home paid off when night time came around. For a little over sixty dollars she walked out of the party with three outfits that made her feel good and sexy at night. She picked out a fuchsia cami and short set that complemented her skin. It was one of her favorites, even though she felt far from romantic at that moment.

Peeling down to her bare nudity Goldie grabbed her night clothes and retired into the bathroom. Closing the door she picked up the remote control for the small speaker set that was displayed in the corner of the room. She flicked on her Alicia Keys’s album and started it at track number four. She hit the repeat button and laid the remote on a stool next to the tub.

Goldie playfully labeled the bar stool set up her get away spot. She always kept a wine glass, bottle of wine, the remote, a candle and when needed a water proof sex toy. If there were ever a day that she needed her therapy corner it was this one.

As she slipped her bare body into the steaming hot water her legs instantly relaxed from the massage therapy the hot tub like basin provided her. She turned the volume on the remote control up three notches and closed her eyes. “What a day.” She said to herself as she breathed slowly and allowed the water to take her away.

~~~

Earlier that day the alarm clock startled the slumbering beauty. It seemed to be laughing at her as it reflected a time which was thirty minutes past what she had remembered setting it for. As if she caught the joke she replied to the old school alarm clock, “Oh you think that shit is funny! I’m going to turn you in for one of those musical titanium clocks. I bet you they can get the time straight!”

The clock appeared to roll its eyes at her, as if to say, “What ever! You know you are too cheap!” It got the last laugh as she felt her hair which was still in last nights silk scarf and Zulu knots. She always tied her singular locs into the little Zulu knots every night with shea butter to keep them growing and healthy. The style was actually nice enough to wear outside, but not to work. As it was she pushed the ethnic limit by refusing to cut her long locs to fit into the obvious corporate stereotype. Most jobs expected people to keep their hair in a socially acceptable hair style. Perhaps something straight and well tamed that wouldn’t bring too much attention. Now no business wanted to state the obvious and admit to discrimination for something as simple as a hair style but she had taken observation.

Her boss, Sonny Jenkins, would most definitely have a convulsion at the sight of her marching through the doors with the knots in her hair. He would lecture her on how she was encouraging other African Americans in her office to push the cultural boundaries and how she needed to be an example. Then Goldie would look at him as if he lost his blackness somewhere.

Sonny grew up with Goldie so they knew each other way before the job. However Sonny always held the chauvinist card over Goldie’s head, swearing that he was better than her because he was a male, and also because he owned the radio station that employed her Afro-centric ass.

With barely enough time to shit and shower Goldie prepared herself. Snatching the knots out of her hair to reveal the true length of her auburn locs she dressed in her favorite suit, one that screamed out power moves and demanded control in the color red. Her red pumps were sitting high and telling a similar story. Grabbing her briefcase and keys she was out the door.

The door embellished a long creek as it opened on her rust colored nineteen eighty five Buick. It was time for her to get a new car, and today she would push her limits and make that major purchase. She had saved up enough money however she still wouldn’t go all the way out; she’d make a moderate buy. Maybe a midsize jeep would do her just fine.

Goldie never went all out; she was a constant penny pincher. While she stayed in style, she rarely wore name brands. To her simplicity was the key in everything that she did and simplicity saved her money.

However maybe she should have spent a little money on gas, her tank was almost on empty. Time was not on her side, she proceeded to work as if she had enough gas to get her to work and then to the gas station later on.

Grey clouds spread across the sky over her head as she drove to work. With traffic holding her up another fifteen minutes she walked into the doors of WHOT late. She barely walked through the threshold of the station office before she heard her name being called out in an obnoxious manner. “Goldie Roberts! How good it is for you to feel that you could make it in today!” Sonny Jenkins was staring down her throat only moments after the words left his lips.

Steam began to rise off the top of her head before she began to speak. “Good morning to you too Sonny,” she replied and then she attempted to make her way to her office.

“Mr. Jenkins is the name Ms. Roberts.”

“Whatever, I’m here.” Goldie retorted while rolling her eyes.

“Now you know as the senior advertisement executive you have to be on your p’s and q’s. I need you to be an example.”

“Alright.” She halfway mumbled under her breath to simply get him off of her nerves.

“Because you are at the top of the ladder in this corporate chain and if you test me then everyone else will attempt to test me.” Jenkins rambled on.

“Look, it’s not like I’m strolling in here at twelve all the time asking for an hour break at one. I’m fifteen minutes late, and I’m always on time.” With that last comment she did an about face and marched in the direction of her office.

The walls to her office shook as she closed the door. All the cubicles around her office began to resume the mixture of gossip and work that was going on prior to the episode with Sonny.

The phone rung as soon as she got to her desk, “Hello?” she answered.

“Mr. Slim is on line one for you.” It was Keisha the office administrative assistant. “Would you like for me to take a message for you?” Keisha was a great assistant to Goldie because she respected her. As far as everyone else besides Mr. Jenkins she barely took messages. If someone wasn’t at their desk she would push the call directly to the voicemail without a second thought.

“I’ll take it thank you Keisha.”

“No problem Goldie.” She responded in the girlfriend tone.

“Mr. Slim are we still on for lunch?” Goldie went right into her corporate voice as she greeted the man.

“Yes we are sweetheart, the deli across from the station correct?” She could feel his gold fronts smiling through the telephone line.

“That’s perfect. I don’t need to be driving to far, and need I remind you that this is a business lunch Slim, so no pet names.”

“Anything you say sugar walls.”

She ignored the last comment and went on with her usual business. “As long as that is understood, I will have all necessary paper work and I’ll see you at twelve.” She knew that she was asking for too much out of the man.

“Catch you then darling.” Mr. Slim just knew he was smooth.

Goldie logged onto her computer and went straight to her favorite place on the internet. The message boards at http://ausetaus.proboards21.com. It was the friendliest site that she had ever been to on the internet. The members on the site talked about everything under the sun and were like family.

She minimized that screen page after logging in and checking her private messages and went to Carmax’s website. She scanned that site for a while trying to pick out a car or jeep that just screamed out Goldie and that wouldn’t break her bank.

She settled on a ninety seven Jeep Cherokee. It was hot red, her favorite color and only a little over eight thousand dollars, which would leave a nice dent in her savings account while still leaving a little something for a rainy day.

She reclined in her chair thinking about her choice for the day and then went back to the message board to share the news with her online family about her decision. They were always supportive and could bring a smile to her face. Before joining this message board she never thought she would be able to build such lasting bonds with anyone on the internet. She had experienced sites were people were constantly being jealous of one another or cussing each other out. At this site she was able to get the latest in entertainment news, read poetry as well as ask for advice. It was a great way to help the time pass while at work.

Shortly after she enjoyed a little leisure time on the site she prepared her paper work for her lunch appointment with Slim “Go get that money girl!” She told herself. If truth be told, then Goldie was the money maker of WHOT.

It was true that Sonny was the owner; he inherited the ailing gospel station when his great uncle passed from colon cancer just four years earlier. And it was also true that by using his resources he was able to turn the gospel station into one of the top urban broadcasting channels in the nation. But in order for it to stay on top, that was all the work of Goldie.

Sonny recruited Goldie fresh out of college. She graduated with a degree in mass communications specializing in broadcasting with a double major in marketing from Virginia Commonwealth University. Now her bachelors degrees was a plus however what put her over the top was her street smart techniques that kept businesses wanting to promote through advertisement on WHOT.

Goldie wasn’t just the brain of advertising department. She was the meat of the operation. She only dealt with the high profile clientele that wanted to collaborate on projects with her which was the biggest in the area. She brought in artist on their promotional tours to do concerts like the one she was currently working on. This particular concert she was hosting would be one of the biggest concerts promoted by a radio station very similar to Hot 97’s Summer Jam.

It was Goldie’s cut throat and fresh marketing ideas that made WHOT stay at the top of its game. However, as with any job, at times she felt unappreciated. Sonny went out of his way to be hard on her, partially because he was jealous of her abilities. She realized that his apprehensions with her was because he only wished that he could handle the clients the way she did and come up with project ideas like she did. He acted as though he didn’t realize that Goldie made the cash flow.

It certainly was not he who stayed within the confines of his office for the most part of the day focusing on reports. Except for the morning when he would make his rounds to see who was late, who was talking shit and who were fucking with his money.

At eleven forty five Goldie was on her way out the door. Planning to grab a tuna wrap before Mr. Slim slid to the table so she could stay focused and lock him down.

“Hey Goldie girl you want the norm?” Rebecca a Jewish girl that stood behind the counter called out as Goldie stepped in the small deli making the bells on the door chime.

“You already know girl!” Goldie responded feeling good that she was known. She never had a problem making friends with people. Her great attitude and personality made people gravitate towards her. As far as food was concerned there were maybe a total of five things that she would order off of the menu but depending on the time of the month she wouldn’t stray far from her norm.

“So how’s it going over there, get any hot celebrity’s in recently?” Rebecca was very much into interracial dating and wasn’t about to hide her fetish for Usher Raymond.

“Now I thought you and Rob were doing well?” Goldie said paying more attention to her food being made.

“We are but you know I’ll drop him in a minute for Usher! When are you going to have him over there? You said you would introduce me!”

“I promise when Usher comes to do an interview I’ll send him over to get one of your world famous tuna wraps! You know I don’t eat anybodies tuna.” Goldie mused.

“Thanks this is on me!” She handed Goldie the wrap and bottled water.

“You don’t have to do that.” Goldie responded in an honest gesture to pay for her meal. Rebecca was forever treating her to free meals.

“I know but you look out for me just the same, movie tickets and stuff. I probably would never go if you didn’t give me so many freebies!”

“Yes you would!”

“I know I’m lying, but I know you’ve got paper work in your hand so that means you must be meeting with a client. And they always spend heavy money up in here trying to impress you especially the guys.”

“You mean only the guys, I can’t get any of my female clients to pay for their own meals, and they are so used to eating for free.”

“True, but your male clients, they are so busy trying to impress you they spend money up in here like this is a four star restaurant. But I’m not complaining.”

“I know that’s right, they stay trying to make an impact on me by buying nothing under ten dollars and then tipping ten. Oh and the big spenders buy something to go. They are a trip.” Goldie had to chuckle along with her Jewish home girl

“And I love every penny of it.”

“I know you do girl, it’s all good thanks!”

Goldie retired to an empty table in the back corner of the deli. It was her favorite spot to handle business and get her grub on. Many meetings with her clients were held here. It was an informal spot. A place where she didn’t feel as though she had to sit up straight and pick the proper fork, the deli had a way of relaxing people so she could handle her business.

Apparently she had talked a little too long to Rebecca; Slim was marching his way towards her table. He truly looked like the pimp that he was as he strolled in with his soft lilac three piece suit with matching gators, a herringbone chain, pinky ring, and curls popping from underneath the brim of his lilac hat that showed off a cream feather on the right hand side. He looked like a ghetto Barney. She just knew he was going to bust out singing, “Don’t you know no good!” like one of the characters Martin Lawrence played on his famous nineties show Martin.

It took everything good for Goldie to not bust out laughing every time she saw him. He never failed to entertain her; however he was a good customer. He just had a lot of bull shit with him.

The fact of the matter was Slim was an actual pimp. He was a smart pimp though, one that filtered his lucrative unlawfulness through his legitimate businesses. He had a club, day spa and strip club around the city were he fronted his businesses both legitimate and illegitimate through. He called all of his businesses what he expected from them. However hilarious the names were people never stopped supporting them.

There was Club Thick Knot where no one dare came to the door if they weren’t of platinum status. The line at the door was always around the corner and depending on what you wanted to do once you got in the doors was what you paid to get in the door. For instance basic entry was fifty dollars however the first one hundred ladies were free. VIP packages started at one hundred dollars however for that price you would be able to have a complimentary bottle of Moet. But for one thousand dollars, you and five friends could have the VIP room that may come complete with personal dancers and a bottle of Cristal. Drinks started at fifteen dollars and there were three floors to party on. Regardless of the elaborate prices as with anything else over priced, people beg borrowed and stole to be in the place to be.

The spot that took the cake over all of his other ventures was Ass. Ass was a strip club that was an all out strip club. Everything went down in Ass. Stripping, sex you name it. All of the women that stripped at Ass where part of Slim’s stable of females that degraded themselves for Slim’s dollar. The thing that kept him coming out smelling like a freshly bathed new born baby was the fact that he had police on his side so there would be no raids of his spot. Everyone knew he was running a modern day whore house and no one said a thing.

Possibly the most astonishing thing about his strip club Ass and the women that worked there was how he handled them. He wasn’t one of those gorilla pimps smacking the shit out of a girl that didn’t bring him his money. To be perfectly honest Slim got his name from his frame which could be compared to the frame of Snoop Dog the rapper. Therefore he didn’t even try to act like he could whoop these grown ass woman. Instead if a woman’s work didn’t show and prove he would simply place her on punishment. Imagine that, a grown ass woman being on punishment, however the truth of the matter was when a woman with a very low self esteem looked for love in the arms of a pimp respect is not something that she could be looking forward to be included in that package.

Another business of Slims was a full body salon and day spa entitled Head to Toes. In this salon there were barbers, stylist, cosmetologist, you name it. Everyone needed their hair done, nails done and toes done and at Head to Toes you can get it all.

And with the theme of being able to get it all, for the right price one could obtain sexual pleasure as well as a physical touch up. Of course that was the curve ball to Slims operation. He was always about the bottom line, the money.

Slim’s businesses might have been questionable but they were always profitable. He treated them like babies and he was the always over protective father, nurturing them to health.

That day he was checking out opportunities to promote Club Thick Knot. “Sugar momma you know you are fine enough to work for me at one of my spots. Shoot if you work for me at home you will never have to lift a finger again.” He licked his lips as he eyed her thick thighs when he approached the table. Always an intimate greeter he exposed his gold tooth smile and took his seat.

“And how are you doing today Slim?” Goldie never took his lame ass bait; she gave him a look that said Negro please as she ignored his comment. He knew that she was hardly the one to approach for a new recruit but he tried at every breaking opportunity.

“Beautiful now that I’ve had the pleasure of looking at you, my Nubian queen. Why don’t you come to my kingdom so we can roam the wild?”

“So I understand that you are prepared to sign the paper work and leave me the deposit for the event today, is that correct?” Goldie ignored his last comment again.

“All work and no play…” Slim began.

“Makes Goldie a serious girl, now do I look like I want to be in your stable Slim? Do I look like I want to shake my booty for your dollar? No, so lets get down to business unless you have changed your mind.” Goldie always had to put Slim in his place and there was a part of her that enjoyed every endearing minute of it.

“Alright miss thang.” Slim reluctantly responded.

“Great, this outlines the stipulations that we have already discussed. For five thousand dollars you will receive eighty commercials, in prime hours at base rate for the two weeks leading up to the event, as a courtesy I will include and extra ten commercials ran on the Friday before in addition to the ones that will already be running to make sure that everyone knows your spot is the place to be. There will also be twenty movie tickets given out during these weeks courtesy of your club. The after party will be exclusively yours, and WHOT will have Tonya Deluxe broadcasting live until one a.m. So if anyone is listening on the radio and are not there, they will know just how live the party is and make their way on down. Now you will be responsible of paying her an incentive of five hundred dollars which needs to be paid to her before she performs and is aside from the general rate.”

“You are talking like she is an artist; she is only a deejay why should I pay her so much?”

“Because of the simple facts that one I already explained that to you and two with out her you wont have the benefit of people who are not there yet listening on the radio to her bigging the club up and saying how packed it is in the place to be.” She took a drink of her water. “Five hundred is her rate, take it or leave it.”

“I understand.”

“I thought you would.” Goldie took another sip of her water and then cleared her throat. “Excuse me. In conclusion, the complete package including commercial airtime, as well as tickets to the show and back stage passes. Did you bring the deposit of twenty five hundred with you?” She looked at him sternly as if to say cut the check.

“Well Ms. Roberts, I was thinking that maybe we can break this thing down a little bit. I thought this price guaranteed one of the artists performing would stop by the club.”

“Maybe you are mistaken Mr. Slim. You asked for the gold package and not the platinum. That package is an extra two thousand not including talent incentive for the deejay. Those two thousand dollars goes directly to the artist as a little cushion to assure that they will make the date. That helps me to lock that artist down before the show and to get a commitment out of them. We never guarantee that they will stay but they will make an appearance.” Slim was trying to pull the wool over her eyes and she knew it. He knew she would never guarantee an artist for that price.

“Well how do I know that people will know that this is the place holding the after party officially?”

“Because the commercial will state that your spot is the official after party location.”

“Well that is not a good enough guarantee.”

“Slim you are making money; you know it takes money to make money. So why don’t you put the extra two g’s on the table and I’ll have my people work something out. But if you are trying to get over on me, I have three other clubs begging to take this offer so let me know what you want to do? You know the saying, money talks.”

“Oh I have the money!” Slim retorted. Goldie went to his ego on that last comment. She knew exactly what button to push.

“I know you do; I do not doubt that fact. So let’s get real, show the paper or I will have no other choice but to move on to the next. I’m not here to play games with you; I’ve got a concert to promote. Are you ready to make this happen or what?” Goldie looked him square in the face. She had the negotiation skills to battle him mono e mono.

“You are tough.” He finally admitted to her.

“I thought you knew, so what’s it going to be?” Goldie didn’t bother to blink until he nodded his head.

“Alright,” He took a blank check and wrote down his deposit. “I’m including and extra two thousand in here so we can make this happen.” He said reassuringly.

“Sounds like a plan to me. I will need the remaining balance before the commercials air. At that time you will receive your passes and so forth. Do you want us to give tickets out on the air courtesy of your club?”

“Will that be an extra charge too?”

“You make me sound like I have no heart.” She laughed. “It will not be an additional charge however I must remind you that the artist will be stopping through and not performing so we will advertise it as such.”

“That’s fine sweet thang. Now we can go a head with all the charades because while I know you want a taste baby just let your guard down.”

Goldie had to let out a giggle of defiance as she slid the check from under his hand. “What do you think this is? Pimp pimp hooray? I don’t think so. Our business for the day is over and I thank you so much for your time.”

“You are a tricky lady. I know you must be a freak. The business women always are.”

“And need I remind you that you will never know? Once again thank you for your time and I expect to hear from you shortly.” Goldie rose up from the table and went on about her business as Slim looked on at her sultry walk lustfully.

Upon walking into the parking lot of the radio station Goldie bumped into Tonya Deluxe, WHOT’s second shift radio personality.

Tonya was a lean butter pecan skinned woman with long thick jet black hair. “You want to watch where you are going?” she said with a fierce attitude.

It was amazing how fast it was that Tonya forgot who put her in the position she was in. A year earlier she was serving donuts and coffee looking on from a distance, waiting for a chance to be recognized. She had all of the credentials to be a personality however she was at the bottom looking up as an intern fresh out of school.

It wasn’t until the radio personality handling the ten to three shifts decided he wasn’t cut out for live radio anymore and decided to walk off that Goldie mentioned letting Tonya take the open position rather than hiring outside.

Back then, Tonya was humble. She watched her mouth and did as requested however that sweetheart façade took a back seat to the diva in her once she got the job. It was at that moment that she decided her shit didn’t stink and she was the wheel that moved the station, How terribly mistaken she was.

“Deluxe, nothing would do me more pleasure than to get up out of your way. I’m in a rush, you saw me coming. You need to be the one moving. Recognize your role. Or do I have to remind you again?” With that last line and her eyebrow arched highly Goldie was gone leaving Tonya to bite her tongue on her own words.

Once back in the office she busied herself with completing the task of her current project. The first artist she contacted was more than happy to oblige to walk through the club after the concert. They weren’t about to turn down an extra two g’s when all they had to do was walk through and didn’t even have to perform only needing to be seen. It was a win win situation.

A knock came to the door just after six. The rest of the office was gone for the day other than the deejay, radio personality and engineer and they were in the studio. She wondered who it could be.

“Come in.” a tired Goldie answered to the knocker.

Sonny walked in and was smiling from ear to ear. “What the hell is wrong with him?” she thought to herself but kept her verbal reaction more calm. “What can I do for you Mr. Jenkins?”

“You ever wonder why I let you get away with so much stuff Goldie.” His words were slurred and his eyes were blood shot as he stumbled through the doors drunkenly.

“Sonny I don’t have time for your shit right now. I have to get out of here just like the next person. I’m already here a minute too late.” Normally she was out the door no later than five thirty. Because she seldom procrastinated with her projects there was never a need for her to put in extra long or late hours to hurry and get work done. One of her mottos was getting it done and move on to the next so you don’t have to worry about rushing at the last minute.

“See that’s what I’m talking about. See how you don’t think twice about cursing at the boss? Just so that you know, if you were anyone else I would have been fired your smart ass.” His words continued to annoy her but not as much as his breath which was now repulsing her to no end. She hated the way that the breath of a drunken man smelled. The foul odor would linger in the air suffocating any chance at peace of mind.

“Would you like to prove your point? You act like I don’t know you from the streets when you weren’t shit. You know how I was when you hired me. I don’t take shit from nobody and I’m not about to start taking it from you now. I do my job and I do it well and as far as I am concerned that is all you should be concerned with.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke knowing that she was in fact halfway wrong. At any other job she wouldn’t dare talk to the boss in a condescending manner. But this was Sonny Jenkins and while she respected her position he had her comfortable with being the way she was for so long.

Goldie and Sonny were actually only two years apart in age. They grew up in the same neighborhood and they attended the same church when they were younger. Their mothers were still attending church together and of course they still attended church every Easter Sunday and Christmas morning.

Sonny inherited WHOT from his uncle Deacon Dwayne Jenkins. Deacon Dwayne being a devoted Christian and an old school one at that, he valued the ancient gospel spirituals that the station broadcasted. While his intentions were great the station was a failing success the actual business aspect of it was plummeting into a hole of bankruptcy. As fate would have it Deacon Dwayne noted in his will that he wanted Sonny to run the radio station in the event of his passing. He did not make any specifics saying that it must be a gospel station therefore Sonny took it upon himself to change the entire format of the station into what it currently was as a hip hop and R&B station.

The changes that Sonny brought to the table were drastic but very much needed if it were to survive. He called them his secret weapons. The first being a highly syndicated morning show. He knew that this change would intrigue the early morning listeners that were on their way to work or school. By buying into one of the top morning shows it made him just as competitive as the native station in the area.

His second secret was fresh out of college Goldie. While as far as radio was concerned she was new to the game, he knew that her fresh skills and hungry appetite were exactly what was needed. Her ear was to the street. He also knew that this would be an offer that she wouldn’t be able to refuse. There weren’t many executive positions coming fresh out of college so passing this up was not an option for her.

His third secret weapon was funding. The moment he inherited the station he called an old friend of his named Rucker. Rucker used to date Sonny’s older sister back in the day and ever since then he and Rucker had been cool. Rucker was a drug lord whom needed and outlet to launder his illegal funds through. The station was a perfect investment. He agreed to give Sonny the start up money that he needed for promotion and so forth as long as Sonny set up a separate account which would filter Rucker’s drug funds with legal money. Rucker became Sonny’s silent partner.

So with every thing set up ready to go as planned WHOT was burning up the city with a fresh sound. The city only had one radio station that played basically the same songs before WHOT came around and it was like the city was theirs for the taking.

At this moment he was in Goldie’s office annoying her with his presence. He stepped closer and she could have sworn she smelt the distinct odor of Hennessey.

“I thought it wasn’t ethical to drink on the job?” Goldie questioned rolling her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh to let him know that she was busy and he was swinging on her last reserved nerve.

“That rule applies to everyone but the boss.” His stance slightly resembling a professional hobo was leaning to the side. His eyes became watery and beady. “I always liked you Goldie.”

“You don’t have a choice; our mothers are on the same church board.”

“And I know you like me too.” He said ignoring the words that she spoke.

“That is not a proven fact, I tolerate you, you used to be cool but I think since you have had the station you have been power tripping and become this different Sonny that at times I can barely deal with. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the position you gave me but you have been becoming unbearable.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, out of respect of our mothers I keep the gist of my feelings to myself but since you asked.”

“But.”

“Truth be told I think you are a pompous jerk and I could go a day or two with out being in your presence.”

“You are so sheeexxxyy,” His words slurred as he obviously lost comprehension of what she was saying. He bent over her to smell her sweet smelling perfume. “Hmmmm.”