Secrets in Love

Secrets in love

Secrets in love

Latonya D. Young

LuLu Publishing

Copyright

Secrets in Love

Copyright © 2014 by Latonya D. Young.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in

this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book

may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover design by Laura Gordon (BookCoverMachine@gmail.com)

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN - 978-1-329-17127-5

LuLu Publishing

Contact author at tonyayoung831@yahoo.com

Twitter @GodlovesmeYOUNG

Instagram Latonya8948

Blog             www.memoirsofthebrokenheartedwordpress.com

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

At First Glance

And It Begins

Breaking Barriers

Picture Perfect

The Pull of Love

The Promise of Forever

Wading Through the Water

Proving My Love

The Distance between Love and the Truth

A Kiss Goodbye

Love Till It Hurts

Heartbreak From Within

Trail of Tears

Spoiled

Love Pain and Goodbyes

Unchain My Heart

Finding My Way Home

Serenity and Love

Dedication

To my loving children who have always been an inspiration in my life.  I love you guys (Alexander, Aliyah and Anson). 

To those who purchased my first novel (Memoirs of a Broken Hearted Girl) and gave me amazing feedback, I thank you a thousand times over!

Thank you to my coworkers for all of the support (Molly, Lynn, Sylvia, Mrs. Jackson, Wilma, Sylita & Mrs. Alvey)!  You guys were amongst the first to purchase and give feedback for the first novel. 

Weaving through this maze that we call life, trying to find the doorway to heaven Latonya D. Young

Acknowledgements

It is hard for me to believe that this is the second novel that I have published.  Being an author has been my dream since I was a little girl and that dream has come true.  As in my first novel, I want to thank my children (Alexander, Anson & Aliyah) whom I love more than life itself. 

To the  person that constantly emailed and called to let me know that although she did not purchase nor read my first novel,  she didn’t think that my work was good enough, I thank you, and my supporters and fans thank you as well.  Your negativity gave me even more motivation to write and publish again.

Opinions and comments are welcomed via email at youngld@yahoo.com

Even if you are in a committed relationship contact your physician to get an HIV test.  Better safe than sorry.

Those who do, accomplish their goals.  Those who don’t, feel that it is their duty to criticize those who do

Latonya D. Young

At first glance

To say that I’m a country girl from a little city in Kentucky with big city girl dreams would be an accurate description of me.  I want it all and I’ve never been afraid to work hard at obtaining the American dream. 

It is now the middle of April and I’m standing at my bedroom window looking out at the trees and the grass as the wind blows through with a slight whistle.  There’s a slight overcast today.  We’ll definitely get rain but I welcome it with an enthusiasm that I never seemed to have before.  With all that I’ve been through I have learned to appreciate the small things.  The beauty of the rain as it falls from the sky and hits the pavement and my windows.  I no longer curse it by wishing for sunshine.  Watching the flowers bloom, the grass beginning to get its life back, and seeing the trees come alive again is amazing.  I love everything about spring.  I love everything about Kentucky. 

Looking over at my bags that have been packed for two days I find it hard to believe that I’ll be leaving soon. 

Everything that I love is right here in Kentucky.  I still can’t believe that I made the decision to leave.  In the past I had never wanted to be anywhere but right here.

I’d chosen to remain in Kentucky not only for my dad, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving good old Kentucky.  Kentucky had to be one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever been, during the spring.  Even the rain here is different.  If someone had asked me if I thought that there was a chance that I’d ever leave, I would have told them hell no.  Everything that I needed was here.  Everyone that I loved was here.

Even when my life began to spiral out of control, I never thought about packing up and leaving.  Where would I have gone? 

Spiraling out of control is definitely an understatement when it comes to my life.  I had leapt without thinking on several occasions and in the end I paid for being so spontaneous and naïve.

It all started with those notorious three words that seem to always get us all into trouble. 

I love you. 

Love is one fickle bitch and if not treated delicately she will fuck you.

Unfortunately for me, being a small town girl doesn’t make you exempt from heartache and pain.  No matter who you are or where you’re from, falling in love is falling in love.  Broken hearts aren’t reserved for certain people.  We all find ourselves unlucky in love at one point or another in our lives. 

To say that I fell in love with the wrong guy is an understatement as well.  I never thought that I'd be the girl who was involved with someone who was too selfish to really know what true love is—someone who only thought of their own happiness.  I thought that I was too smart to fall for the lies, too smart not to see deceit when it was staring me in the face, and way too smart to allow someone to trample all over my heart. 

But that is exactly where I found myself.  

Sometimes I can't stand to look myself in the mirror because I’m too disappointed in myself to be happy with the reflection staring back at me. 

If you've ever loved someone with as much intensity as I have loved him, and received nothing but heartache in return, then you know exactly what I’ve been living through. 

It is so true what they say about love.  It really is a double edged sword, so to speak.  I often sit back and wonder why it never turns out the way it does in the movies.  You know, where the couple falls head over heels in love, and in the end, they live happily ever after. 

Shame on me for believing in fairy tales. 

I always seem to get too far ahead of myself.  Let me back track a bit and start at the very beginning. 

***

I was nineteen years old working at a local McDonald's in the downtown area of the city, trying to pay my way through college, when I met him.  He had been strolling in for months like he owned the franchise.  And for months he never got up the nerve to ask me out.  It was always the same with him.  He’d come into the store every day that I worked and stood in my line no matter how many customers were ahead of him. 

He seemed to love the hell out of McDonalds because whenever I had a shift, he would stroll in for lunch and if I took on an extra shift he’d stroll in again for another meal. 

No one ate that many big macs. 

Standing at six feet four, golden skin, dark chocolate eyes, and a muscular build, he was well groomed, sporting a goatee.  There was nothing incredibly impressive about his look, but his style and swagger were incredible.  He always dressed and smelled nice, but he was far from being my type, but I found it sexy how he walked into a room and owned it. 

We had never spoken, outside of him placing his order, but he always gave me a huge cheesy smile, and managed to brush my hand lightly when he handed me his money to pay for his food, and he would never accept his change.   

The day that changed my entire life and turned my world completely upside down there were two open lines, but still he stood fourth in line at my register.   

That day I wasn't really in the mood for his cheesy smile, so after taking care of the first two customers in line, I turned to my best friend Olivia, and motioned for her to take over at my register. 

Michael, the manager would have flipped his wig if he had known that Olivia was on my register, or any register for that matter.  She hadn't been allowed at the front registers in months, and they hadn't come up short in months. 

Olivia and I had been friends since grammar school so I trusted her with my life. 

She'd steal from everyone else's registers and even take home a few frozen hamburger patties.  Hell, she'd even steal from her mother’s purse if we were short on gas, but she'd never steal from me and risk my getting fired just because she was a kleptomaniac. 

Stealing a quick glance at him, I noticed his jeans and tee shirt.  He had to have been a momma's boy.  Everything was nicely ironed, and creased.  Not a wrinkle in sight and his sneakers even shined. 

I looked down at my dusty McDonald's uniform, and the even dustier black non slip sneakers that I wore, and wondered why he continued to flirt with me every chance that he got.  Even worse than that, I smelled like greasy burgers and fries, and pine-sol from cleaning the restrooms. 

It was nice to have a guy flirt with me when I wasn't even trying.  I never wore make up to work, and always went in to work wearing my work clothes.  I wasn't like Olivia and some of the other girls that I worked with.  They would walk in the doors looking like they just stepped off of the pages of People magazine, and would change into their uniforms in the restroom.  Even after they changed you would have thought that there was a runway behind the counter.  They wore designer jeans to flip burgers, and their nails, hair and makeup was always flawless. 

Me, on the other hand, I looked as homeless as I was afraid I'd be if I didn't get in enough hours at the store to cover my rent. 

I turned from the fryer and caught his eye.  He had stepped out of line without ordering his usual and was standing close to the condiment area, hands in the pockets of his jeans, smiling at me.  I could smell his scent.  Damn, he smelled amazing.  He was wearing Polo Blue, a Ralph Lauren fragrance and it smelled absolutely amazing on him.

I knew all of the fragrances, men and women from my days of working at Dillard’s in the local mall.  I loved that job and the discounts but the hours got in the way of my school schedule so I was forced to trade in wearing cute clothes to work for the McDonalds uniform.

Just like that, after catching my eye he turned and left the store without ordering. 

Olivia stepped from the register still holding a customer’s cash in her hands.  He is so fucking weird, she said, frowning deeply.

I giggled, amusement mixing with the annoying feeling that I had.  I have a stalker.

Yes you do and the shit is getting strange.  The next time he comes in I’m going to ask him what his problem is.

Snatching the cash from her hands, I gave her a teasing smile.  Don’t be mad because he isn’t stalking you.

She rolled her eyes dramatically.  Yeah right, he’s too clean cut for me.  You know I like my men rough and manly.

Laughing, I pushed her arm gently and placed the cash into my drawer.  My drawer isn’t going to come up short tonight is it?

Of course not.  She eyed me with disappointment and hurt and pointed two registers over to an unsuspecting Carol.  But hers might.

***

Four hours later, after I should've already been off of the clock, I was being forced to clock out.  I had been scheduled to work three hours, but had managed to stay on the clock for another five until Michael strolled out of his office and realized that I had been there when he arrived, and was still there.  If he didn’t sleep on the job he may have noticed that I was getting over time four hours prior. 

They had been cutting hours for weeks, but I managed to always get enough overtime hours in to get the rent and electric bills paid.  The trick to it was working during Michael’s shifts. 

After pleading my case for more hours on deaf ears, I clocked out, and headed outside to my car, hoping and praying all the way that she would start.  Yes, I was one of those people.  My cars name was Ruby.  I named her Ruby because she was a little ruby red Nissan Altima.  Ruby was about twelve years old and had seen better days but she got me from point A to point B.      

Most of the time. 

She had been a graduation gift from my mother, who also drove a classic. 

For the third time that week Ruby had let me down.  She wouldn't start.  No matter how hard I turned that key, she wouldn't turn over.  I sent a couple of prayers up to heaven begging for a miracle and she still refused to start.

A knock on my car window startled me, causing my heart to jump into my throat.  I looked up to see the guy that had been visiting McDonald's everyday just to stand in my line, staring in the window at me. 

I rolled my window down.  Yes, Ruby was that old.  No power windows. 

We stared at one another for a few seconds before he spoke up.  Do you need some help. he offered?

What the hell does it look like, I thought to myself?  No, I'm fine, I said as I reached for the handle and began to manually roll my window up. 

Reaching a hand inside of the window, he licked his lips and smiled at me.  Don't let your pride have you on the bus stop tonight.  It's getting late.

He was right.  It was getting late and it looked like rain.  The last thing that I needed was to get caught on the bus stop with no umbrella while it poured. 

Climbing from the driver’s seat, I motioned with my hand for him to give it his best shot.  I was convinced that Ruby was dead.  There would be no reviving her this time. 

He adjusted the seat and climbed his long body into the driver’s seat, and tried turning it over a couple of times.  He pulled his cell from his pocket and began dialing.  Hey, how's it going?  I have a friend who needs a tow.  He paused for a second, listening to the person on the other end.    We'll leave the keys in the console.  There was another short pause before he continued.  No one’s going to steal it, he said with a slight chuckle.

Ending his call, he rolled my window up, threw the keys into the console, climbed out and smiled at me again. 

It looks like you have two choices.  Public transportation or I can give you a ride home.  What's it going to be?

Catching the bus after pulling an eight hour shift, and not arriving home for another two hours because of the long bus ride, didn't sound like anything that I wanted to do.  I stood in McDonald’s parking lot contemplating taking a ride from the stranger that I saw just about every day during lunch and dinner, or catching public transportation. 

I'll accept the ride, and thanks for the tow but I can't afford it, I said with disappointment.  I had worked just enough overtime to pay the rent and to keep the lights on.  Ruby would have to sit for a few months. 

Taking a deep breath, he pet Ruby on the hood.  Don't worry about the tow.  My friend has his own shop.  He'll hook you up.  By the way, my name is Lyndon.  Lyndon Keaton.

Tipping my head back, I gave him a once over, I saw that he had changed clothes.  He wasn't wearing the same clothes from earlier in the day.  The full length jeans were replaced with a pair of basketball shorts, a Miami Heat ball cap, and the crisp white t-shirt that he had worn earlier was replaced with a red t-shirt.  He still looked as if he had ironed everything, right down to his socks. 

Eyeing him skeptically I said, I'm Chloe Kaufman, it's nice to meet you Lyndon.  And thanks for the tow.  Tell your friend to let her sit.  I don't have the money to pay him.  As a matter of fact you could just have him to tow it to my place.  My landlord will freak out if it sits in front of the building too long, but who cares.

A smile stretched across his full lips.  Don't worry about the car.  My friend will take care of it.   I'm driving the red Chrysler Sebring at the other end of the parking lot.

Don't worry about the car?  Easy for him to say when he was driving a brand new Chrysler.  I hated to leave Ruby, but I had class at eight o'clock in the morning, and missing class was not an option.  If I were to ever make it out of that McDonald's uniform, and into a newer model vehicle that would start when I placed the key into the ignition, I had to make it to class even if I had to start walking at two o’clock in the morning in order to get there on time.  .

Walking towards the Chrysler, I text Olivia to let her know who I was with.  I then walked around to the back of his car, took a photo of the license plate with my cell and text the photo to Olivia.  I was born at night, but I was definitely not born last night.  I trusted no one.  We lived in a world where trust had to be earned.  Giving it up too easily could very well mean meeting your maker sooner than you planned to. 

I half expected him to wear a look of annoyance when I glanced over at him.  Oddly enough he was smiling as he disarmed the car alarm and unlocked the car doors.  Being a tiny girl, I didn't take unnecessary risks.  I stood at five foot one, and weighed a mere one hundred and three pounds.  I wasn't the typical girly girl but I wasn't a fighter either.  I'd rather apologize even when I was wrong and walk away peacefully than to get into a brawl.  Not saying that I was afraid to box, but I simply didn't go in search of a fight.   

I climbed into the passenger seat, and placed my hands on my lap.  The nice thing to do would have been to make casual conversation, but I was so tired from my shift that I could care less about being nice to the stranger who had just happened to be sitting outside of my workplace after my shift, ready and waiting to come to my rescue. 

The Chryslers engine purred like a cat whom just been fed a huge bowl of meow mix.         

Beautiful. 

I was listening to some gospel, but I can change it, he offered with half a smile.  I know that isn't everybody's thing, so I try not to push it.

I was somewhat in shock!  He didn't look like the gospel listening type of guy.  I expected to hear some rap, heavy medal, a little reggae, anything but gospel. 

Gospel is fine, I responded with a forced smile.  I was too tired to be nice.  My eyelids were growing heavier with each passing second.

Wow, he even had satellite radio.  I was lucky if my local radio stations came in without crackling.  Far from being a superficial type of girl, but I worked hard so that one day life would be easier for myself.  Struggling was beginning to get old.  I vowed that if I had to work for twelve hours a day and attend my classes the other half, I'd do whatever possible to make it.  That was the last coherent thought that I had. 

My dad was sitting at his piano with me sitting on the bench next to him.  He was singing, and we were playing together.  His voice was heavenly, while mine sounded like a wounded donkey, but I played the piano like Stevie Wonder had mentored me himself.  We laughed and played as he belted out note after note like he had a recording contract. 

My mom sat across the room on an ivory colored sectional watching as her two favorite people belt out an Elton John ballad.  My father hit every note smoothly as I played like I should have been on stage at Carnegie hall.  We sang and sang and laughed until my mother stood, and signaled that it was bed time. 

A hand shaking my shoulder lightly woke me.  I'd fallen asleep during the ride.  I had once again dreamt of my dad and happier times.  It seemed that I couldn't fall asleep without dreaming of the simple things that we used to do together.

The car had stopped moving.  Looking around and taking in my surroundings, I noticed that we were sitting in front of my apartment building.  Stretching, it took a minute for me to realize what was wrong with us sitting in front of my building. 

I hadn't told him where I lived.

He must have noticed the freaked out look that was forming on my face.  I've seen your car parked in front of the building before, he answered before I could grab for the door handle, while screaming for my life. 

There was a pregnant pause.  Are you stalking me?  You're constantly at my job, and now I find out that you know where I live.

I have to eat, he said with amusement.  And, I have a friend who doesn't live far from here.  I've seen you around here dozens of times.

If you say so, I replied skeptically.  I pulled the door handle, and realized that I was locked in.  I shot him an annoyed look and said, Thanks for the ride, Lyndon.

Not catching the hint, he continued to make conversation.  I’m honestly not stalking you, but I'd like to take you out.

No, I said sourly.  Pulling on the door handle a second time, I hoped that he'd catch on.  

A strange smile touched his lips.  I'm just going to keep showing up at your job, asking you out every day, until you change your mind.

Between work and school, I don't have time for you.  I mean you or anyone else for that matter, so don't waste my time or your own.  Let me out, please.  I have to get started early in the morning.

Work or class?

He had to be slow.  I'd gone from hinting to being completely straight forward and he still wouldn't give up.  Both.  I have class in the morning, and work afterward.  Open the door before      I scream.

One date.

Sure, I answered, just to shut him up.

Saturday night?  Dinner?  Any restaurant you choose.

Sure.  Now open the damn door.  My patience was wearing thin. 

I'll pick you up Saturday at six, he said, finally unlocking the doors.

Thanks for the ride Lyndon.

Could I at least get your number, so we can touch base about the date?

No.

Slamming the door of the Chrysler I rushed off in the direction of my apartment.  I waved at my nosy next door neighbor as I stepped onto the stoop.  Mrs. Lilly was ancient.  She had to be in her late seventies, but she never missed anything.  And I swear she never slept.  No matter what time I came home, she was either sitting on her porch watching me, or sitting in her window watching me.  She had no children and no husband so she lived alone.  She was rail thin, and even though they say that you shrink as you grow older, she still stood at about five foot eight.  Her silvery gray hair was always pulled back into a tight chignon.  Her blue eyes were always looking through me.   Mrs. Lilly didn't bother to wave, she just nodded her little head, and gave me a frown, like the sight of me made her head ache. 

She was staring toward the street at the car that I'd just gotten out of.  He was still sitting there, watching me.  Feeling uncomfortable, I unlocked the front door and stepped into the apartment to escape them both. 

Standing with my back against the front door, I looked around the small apartment.  Most of the place was furnished with used furniture.  We didn’t bother to hang anything on the walls because we didn’t have the money to purchase anything worth looking at. 

Nostalgia gripped at me as I remembered fondly that my entire life hadn't exactly been a struggle.  There was a point in time when I thought that I had it all.  Or at least what I thought having it all meant. 

Both of my parent's had good jobs, and we lived in a great neighborhood.  The type of neighborhood where there’s an actual neighborhood watch.  Every neighbor on the block knew each other’s first and last names, and everyone’s children played together.  And all of the parent’s on the block had the okay to spank each other’s children when they got out of hand.  It was like having aunts and uncles all over the neighborhood, making it hard for us to get into mischief.  Every night there was someone at the house for dinner, or we were at their house. 

I used to have these huge birthday parties.  The ones where everyone in the neighborhood showed up with gifts, and there were always clowns and pony rides.  My dad would always spend more money than my mom wanted him to, but she never complained because he was the man of the house.  I was his baby, so he showered me with gifts, and love. 

After all of the guests would leave and we cleaned up the backyard, the two of us would stay up well past midnight, eating cake and ice cream until we were both sick to our stomach’s.  Before we turned in for the night, he’d play the piano with me.  He would always save the best for last.  I loved to play with him.  The ivory called out for both of us.  Music burned within us. 

That was so long ago that it seems like a blur, as if it were a part of someone else's life.  Life as I once knew it, life as my parent's once knew it had changed in the blink of an eye. 

I remember every detail of the night that turned our lives into something else— turned our easy going lifestyle into a struggle.

My mother and I were out shopping for new school clothes when she received the call.  Shopping was one of the few things that she and I did together.  We didn’t have many mother daughter moments back then. 

I was always more into the things that my dad was interested in, like spending hours upon hours in our home studio playing and making music, playing the piano or something as simple as sitting in the same room as we both read our favorite books. 

My mom was into fashion.  You name a designer and she knew exactly who they were.  Every label was hanging in our closets because my mom refused to wear anything but the best, and because she loved her only daughter, she made sure that I had every designer hanging in my closet as well.

The day that we were out shopping while my dad was out enjoying his day free of the women in his life, mom had been dragging me through the Oxmoor mall trying on clothes and playing dress up. 

That call changed everything.

I had never in my life seen her so panic stricken.  I had no clue who she was speaking with, but I saw that her lips trembled -- her eyes looked as though they would bulge out of their sockets, and she looked quite faint.  She dropped everything that she was holding in her arms, and pulled a then; ten year old me through the mall, towards the exit, like there was a fire to escape. 

We sped through the crowded Kentucky streets at speeds that were way beyond the legal speed limit.  My mother’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, as she practically sat on top of the steering wheel, pressing her foot down on the gas pedal, willing the vehicle to move faster.  She remained silent during the entire drive.  Never speaking a word, nor did she look anywhere but the street which lay ahead of us. 

Her nose ran, with snot dripping to her lips, mixing with the tears that were streaming from her eyes.  We kept tissue in the glove box, but she never reached for it.  I was so shaken that I was too afraid to retrieve it and offer it to her.  Her hands were still shaking.  Her entire body seemed to shake. 

When we finally slowed down, we were pulling into a hospital parking garage. The keys were snatched from the ignition before the car could shift gears into park.  She was jumping from the car and racing through the garage quickly.  I climbed out of the car and ran behind her, with my small legs barely catching up to her just as she reached the elevator doors.  She was shaking badly.  It was mid-summer, yet her lips shivered as if it were twenty degrees.  My hands began to shake as well, as this overwhelming feeling of dread began to consume me. 

No one had to tell me.  I suddenly felt it in my soul. 

Jumping from the elevator, we moved through the hospital hallway with a purpose.  When I saw my step sister Ryder sitting in the hospital waiting room, it confirmed my fears.  My mother ran to Ryder's mom, Emma.  They embraced, both of them sobbing, with tears from the others eyes soaking the shoulders of the other.  They spoke in whispered tones, but I heard enough to get the gist of what was happening. 

Finding a corner, I slid to the ground, covered my face, and requested that God spare my father's life.  I promised to be good and to never again take my daddy for granted, if God would only give me more time with him. 

I sat in that corner, refusing to move, refusing to be moved, for hours, until I spotted a doctor headed towards my mother and Emma. 

What took you so long to get home, Olivia asked, jolting me back to the present?  Did that pervert try something with you?

No.  He was very nice, I explained.

Damn, too bad about your car!  If you need a ride to school in the morning, I can ask Kaiden to give you a ride.  I'm sure he won't mind. 

Kaiden was her boyfriend, who I hated with a passion.  Olivia loved him, so I tolerated him, but I refused to spend any time alone with him.  Hate is such a strong word.  I just didn’t like him.  He had no ambition.  He was too busy stealing everything that he wanted to actually work for it. 

No I'll call mom and get her to pick me up on her way in to work.  There was no way that I’d be caught up in a mess if he were pulled over by the cops in a stolen vehicle.  He was always driving something different….something nice and new.  For a guy with no job, that spelled trouble in my mind.  Olivia on the other hand, saw nothing but excitement in Kaiden’s lifestyle. 

Sitting down on the tattered couch, I placed my arms on my knees and lay my head over my arms.  Olivia sat next to me, placing her hand on my back trying to console me. 

Get your car fixed Chloe.  I'll take care of the rent this month, she offered.

What bank are you planning on robbing?

I was thinking more like the liquor store around the corner, but you're right.  If I'm going to do it, I may as well do it right! 

She wasn’t laughing.  Olivia was a kleptomaniac who had no boundaries, so I jerked my head up to look into her eyes to gauge whether or not she was serious. 

She finally laughed, popping up from the couch and heading for the kitchen, which was connected to the living room that we were sitting in.  She was cooking dinner -- most likely stolen hamburger patties from the store we worked at.

I'll have my half of the rent Olivia, so whatever you're planning….stop.

I'm going to get the money from Kaiden.  I wasn't going to rob anyone.

Olivia was banned from her mom's house, her step father's house, and her granny’s.  The only reason that I allowed her in my apartment was because she always had her half of the rent, and I had absolutely nothing for her to steal. 

The living room furniture came from the goodwill.  The tattered plaid couch which was in pretty bad shape when we bought it was horribly uncomfortable and took up too much space in the middle of the living room.  Across from it was a black pleather loveseat that we had purchased from the Salvation Army.  It was more tattered than the plaid couch.  There were a couple of ugly rips in it that we taped up with duct tape.  The coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room was the best thing in the apartment.  My aunt Stephany who lived in Miami had bought a new coffee table and offered us the old one.  She even paid the shipping costs to have it sent from Miami to Kentucky. 

I don't feel right placing the burden of the household bills on you, Olivia.

Go shower, and get some rest.  Stop worrying before you start getting wrinkles.  Have some faith in me sometimes, Chloe.  I said that I'd take care of the rent.  I'll take care of it.

I honestly didn’t know what I would do without our sisterhood.  She kept me from going over the deep end many days. 

She was the one person who helped me with my transition when I was ten and a half years old.  It was then that we were forced to move from our big house and into the lower income area of the city.

To say that it was a shock to my system is putting it mildly.  Very mildly. 

Going from a huge four hundred thousand dollar three story home with a huge front and back yard, to a small modest seventy five thousand dollar two story home was a change.  Although I had always been showered with the best of everything I was never a materialistic type of child.        

It wasn’t the smaller house that had sent my system into shock.  It was going from a sheltered lifestyle to one where I was forced to grow up fast that had sent me into shock.

My family had moved from a fairytale land to reality. 

The first time that I witnessed a mugging was a few short months after we moved into the house.  Because my mother struggled to keep me in private school and didn’t always have the time to give me a ride I was forced to face the real world and take public transportation.  On my way home from school one day, a little old lady climbed from the city bus and bam!  It happened so quickly that if I had blinked I would have missed it. 

It was almost as if the guy had been waiting on her to get off of the bus with her little handbag tucked under her arm, because he came out of nowhere, snatched her bag, ripping the strap, pushing her down to the ground in the process and ran off so quickly that no one got an accurate description.

If it were just the muggings maybe my system wouldn’t have been in so much of a shock.  By the age of thirteen I had seen my first dead body.

Walking home from the local candy store with Olivia, we witnessed a group of guys arguing.  They weren’t too much older than we were at the time.  We recognized a few of the boys from the neighborhood but the others were new faces. 

I’d learned from Olivia who had both been born and raised in the neighborhood, to always avoid the commotion.  Never stand around too long trying to figure out what an argument was about because being too nosy could place you in the line of fire.  I listened to her advice about the dangers of our neighborhood because she had lived it all of her life and I was new to it all. 

Plus, catching a stray bullet was something that didn’t entice me. 

We had gotten half a block from the argument when the thunderous sounds of gunshots rang out.  By then I’d heard enough gunshots to know to duck first and ask questions later. 

Olivia and I had thrown ourselves behind some garbage cans that we were near.  We huddled up behind those garbage cans until the gunshots dissipated. 

It wasn’t until we heard the sounds of screaming that we decided that perhaps it was safe to come out of our hiding spot. 

Being curious teenagers we walked back to the scene of the crime and there he was.  Roberto Johnson lay on the ground gasping for air with tears coming out of the sides of each of his eyes.  Blood was seeping through his red Louisville cardinal tee shirt.  His shirt was being totally consumed by the blood that he was losing.  His matching Cardinal ball cap lay next to his side.

He looked so innocent and helpless lying there.  His friends, or so called friends had already scattered and left the scene, leaving Roberto alone on the streets to die. 

As he lay there alone with plenty of spectators screaming for help and yelling into the receivers of their cell phones for the 911 operators to send an ambulance, I felt compelled to help him. 

Taking a step towards him, Olivia grabbed my arm, shaking her head no. 

Still I couldn’t help myself. 

He was lying on the ground possibly dying and he was alone.

Snatching my arm away from her, I maneuvered my way through the crowd that was growing