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In the sizzling city of Atlanta, four women live oblivious to the devastation about to shape them—and their destiny.

Platinum, born on the Westside, lives in Conyers and works as a stripper at Club Inferno. Her connection to the infamous B.T.M.F. crime organization and reckless decisions could lead to her destruction.

Shine is an enticing chick from the Southside who migrates around the streets of Atlanta—looking for dope, redemption, and the meaning of life—by any means necessary.

Aaliyah, from Decatur, has two young boys and works as a security guard in East Lake— barely making it. Financial struggles cause her to redefine what it means to take care of home.

Sierra has the life that many women dream of: marriage, affluent Buckhead residence, a BMW, and designer wardrobe. The average person wouldn’t believe why she chose pain and submission in order to acquire her position.

Though their lives have different pathways, they have the same issues with money, sex and the pursuit. Will they accomplish their dreams, or will Platinum, Shine, Aaliyah and Sierra’s hustle destroy them? Shame on it all.

Bio

Tika is from the Adamsville community in Atlanta, Ga. She attended American Intercontinental University for Fashion Design and Fashion Marketing. She enjoys reading, writing, and reality TV while incarcerated. She is featured in the Anne Frank Diary Program, 2008, and Images poetry and art book, 2008. She is family-oriented and has a zest for life. This is her first novel.

Chapter 1—Platinum

This was definitely not the average Hotlanta in June. The city was bustling with natives and foreigners alike. It was 2006, but Atlanta was still experiencing the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Countless “refugees” had poured into the city with no place to call home. Fortunately, that wasn’t an issue for Platinum, a gorgeous stripper with hazelnut latte skin, Anna Nicole blonde hair and chinky mahogany eyes. Her curvaceous body held racy tattoos that drew plenty of attention.

Platinum was in the waxing room of the Rose Spa in Midtown, where it was cool and comfortable. Oriental-scented candles were placed strategically, as if to say, relax assholes.

The setting was ideal for a normally painful procedure. Platinum was only 23, but knew what she wanted: a Brazilian bikini wax to complement her supermodel abs. She laid back, spread eagle, for Kim—the Vietnamese esthetician—to see every angle of her vagina.

“Wax it front to back and leave a line down to the cat,” said Platinum, inhaling the scent of patchouli rising from the candles.

“Yoo think I not know what I doo?”

“N’all Kim, I just want to make sure.”

“Shure yoo maik shure, oh-kay, whateva yoo say babay!” Kim ripped the paper strip glued to the wax mixture, gripping every single hair in its path.

Oh, how it hurts so good, Platinum thought. “Kim, you keep doin it like this…Imma have to start tipping you.”

Kim held out her tiny, fragile hand. “Wha yoo mean yoo not tip? Yoo tip me now!”

“You know I’m just playin wit you! I, if anybody, believe in a tip.” She handed Kim a twenty-dollar tip for the forty-dollar wax job.

“Yoo ‘mericans play too maych!” Kim left, since her job was complete.

Looking in the mirror at her freshly waxed kitty, Platinum knew that it was on tonight. Hundreds would rain on the very stage she blessed; once she got to shaking her money maker, the whole club would circulate in paper.

As she gathered her Gucci clutch and Sidekick, Platinum smiled. Leaving the spa, she couldn’t help but think of The Hustle. Being a dedicated stripper, Platinum vowed to keep her hair, nails, and body immaculate. There would be no slacking off like some of the girls at the club.

Walking to her Escalade, the glare of the afternoon sun pierced Platinum’s eyes, momentarily blinding her vision. It took her eyes a second to register what she’d heard. Pop, pop, pop! Bullets flew as she ducked, gasping for breath. She ducked for cover behind the truck as shots continued to fire.

“Oh shit!” she cried out. Survival was on her mind, but Platinum didn’t believe she was in the crossfire of a shootout until she tasted blood.

* * * *

Platinum stormed into the back room of Club Inferno, her heart still racing- ready to pay her bar fee for the night.

“This isn’t the Players Club, you know? Bye!” yelled D-Lo, the night manager.

“I was caught in a fucking shootout, damn!” Platinum yelled back. “While I was leaving the spa earlier, that Soprano’s shit occurred.”

“I want you to explain to me what tonight has to do with a massage and a bloody lip.” D-Lo was pissed at Platinum for bringing her tired ass in his establishment as if he owed her something. He wasn’t putting up with her bullshit antics tonight.

“I was getting my bikini waxed; I bit my lip when I was getting shot at.”

D-Lo sat up. “Someone shot at you?’

“No, but bullets ain’t got no name, so I had to duck em.” She sighed. “Apparently, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

D-Lo stood to peer closer at Platinum’s lip. “Look, you ain’t working tonight. MAC can’t even cover that shit up.”

There was no sense in trying to talk him out of his decision; what D-Lo said, he meant. Faced with the disappointment of missing a quick 3 G’s, Platinum proceeded to enact plan B. There was always a Plan B.

* * * *

Platinum was on the phone with Plan B, when he was tickled by one of her vulgar jokes.

“Girl, you so fuckin crazy!” Pete laughed.

Platinum loved to charm Pete, her premier attraction. Light brown skin and long braids set off his large, expressive eyes. He wasn’t too bad in the bedroom either. Platinum chuckled. “Oh, you think I’m playin? Come on up here then.”

“Platinum you are wild! You know I gotta get this paper.”

She smacked her lips. “So you gone let this good pussy go to waste?” Platinum moved her cell phone directly in front of her mouth. “Guess I could fuck wit Craig.”

“Hold up, swole up, I thought you had that platinum pussy on hold for me!” He placed his blunt in the ashtray.

“Well Pete, you like money as I do the same, the pussy wants you, but money’s calling its name.”

“True, true, but if I don’t get mine, then I can’t provide you with that premium shit you

like- Prada, Gucci, Ferragamo....”

“Pete, I know what you sayin, but what I’m sayin is this: give me one hour, one hour, you know you won’t regret it.” Platinum batted her eyelashes as if he was right there.

“A’ight. Let me make a move and I’ll be right there. You still got that room at the Westin, room 2015, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll order room service.”

Platinum couldn’t wait until Pete arrived. He was the partner in a multi-million dollar drug organization, B.T.M.F. (Big-Time Motherfuckers), young, rich, and the world’s best trick. Pete loved to take her on early shopping sprees after a late night of fucking. He had four baby mamas who all had niggas, but they treated him like he was number one. A bitch better be ready to drop it all for him, cause he was no joke.

Chapter 2—Shine

Dana, better known as Shine, sashayed up Brokers Ave., passing the popular strip club, Touchers. She decided to stop inside the Waffle House. Once inside, she could not help but notice the stares that came her way. Shine was 5’4, with long wavy hair that black mothers dreamed their kids would have.

Shine knew it was either her tight, revealing red dress causing the stares, or even worse­ they could tell that she was high. Her hazel eyes nervously scanned the restaurant as she headed for the restroom.

“If ya ain’t orderin, ya gots ta leave!” shouted the gawking waitress.

“I’m gone order something, I just got to go!”

Shine slid into the restroom, took a quick piss, then ran some water through her hair as she stared in the mirror. What have I gotten myself into?

Too geeked up to think hard, Shine walked back into the dining area. She was determined to leave with a trick- no problem for her, because Shine looked ten years younger than her thirty.

The nosy waitress watched Shine sit at a vacant table, walking over with an attitude. “What ya wanna eat?” she asked sarcastically.

“Can I get this one with the bacon?” Shine pointed, trying to keep cool.

“Yeah, and what ya want ta chase dis down wit?”

“Nuttin, I’m takin it to go.”

A fine, older brother slid in the booth next to Shine.

“Hey!” Shine chimed, making eye contact with him.

“How are you tonight?” his deep, Barry White baritone flirted.

“I’m fine, actually better now.”

The waitress came back with Shine’s order and the check.

Shine’s new acquaintance opened up his wallet, revealing lots of cash. “Why don’t you let me take care of this for you sugar, and you meet me outside?”

Glad at his generosity, she replied, “That’s cool. Come right out.”

He paid the waitress who was now popping gum, jealous of the attention Shine was getting. The waitress knew old man Frank from the many times he frequented the restaurant and was well aware that he was a big spender. Frank didn’t mind, especially on someone who caught his eye like Shine had.

Outside, the formalities began. “I’m Frank, by the way.”

“Name’s Shine, Shine baby,” she beamed, revealing a missing tooth near the back.

“Let’s head over to my car baby. I’ll give you a ride.”

Shine walked towards a Dodge Ram truck.

“No, not that one. Here.” Frank turned off his car alarm with the key fob.

To think, Shine was trying to jump in the Dodge Ram, when he was driving a 500 Benz! Damn, she thought. She had heard that the larger the number, the more expensive the Mercedes were.

“My bad, nice ride.” Entering the sedan, Shine wondered, how could a nigga afford some shit like this? His shoes and jewelry also looked expensive, so she figured he might be a pimp. “Hold up Frank. I’m a straight renegade.”

“What do you mean, a traitor?” Frank asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“What I’m sayin is, I don’t need no pimp, ya dig?”

“Shine, I just want to get to know you,” Frank responded.

“That’s cool, but so you know, I get high and it costs to do what I do. You show me some

love, I’ll show you some.”

“Does it come with a drink, or is it a’ la’ carte?”

Shine almost reached for the door handle. “Look, I’m serious. Fo real, I need some cash. Shit, just let me get bout fifty or somethin.”

“Can I get some oral and vaginal for that?”

“I’ll toot this ass up too, just come on.”

“Do you know a spot where we can rendezvous at?”

“Hell yeah. Make a left at the next corner, then slow down.”

Shine led Frank to a spot about four blocks from the Waffle House, a secluded side street. It was the beginning of a long night. “Right here. Just park and hit your lights.”

Frank followed Shine’s instructions, and then let their seats back. “You got protection?”

“No, but I can just give you a quick blow.”

Frank swallowed. “I don’t know about that, you live on the street, don’t you?”

“No Frank, this is my hustle on the side. I work over at Inferno,” she lied.

“I’ve never seen you there.”

“You won’t. I work the day shift while you’re probably at work, Mr. Businessman.”

Sensing the urgency of the situation, his reluctance, and her craving, Shine went to work. “Look Frank, I told you from the jump what it was. If you scared of a lil head, then I best be goin.” She placed her hand on the door handle.

Caressing her magnetic features with his eyes, Frank couldn’t help but laugh to himself. With soft, beige skin, long curly hair and the deepest hazel eyes he’d ever seen, this girl was beautiful! Shine’s perky titties peeking out of her tight dress mesmerized him. Damn that dress. He had to have her—now.

Frank unzipped his pants, pulling out his frankfurter-length, broad dick and Shine quickly gulped it down. In a split-second, she deep throated him.

“Mmm,” Shine hummed as his muscle began hitting the back of her throat. She slobbed her tongue rapidly over his erection while gently caressing his huge balls.

Frank emitted a low groan then mumbled, “Yes...right there. Letha, oh...I...yes baby.”

He came swiftly, a giant glob of semen that rushed down Shine’s throat as she accepted it. “Okay, now pay me.”

“Here’s fifty and a ten-dollar tip for that throat of yours.”

Shine jumped out of the car. “Thanks baby!”

“Hey!”

Shine ducked her head down to see what he wanted.

“Got a number?”

“I ain’t got no phone, but I’ll tell you what. Meet me next week at the same time and spot at the Waffle House.”

It was on.

* * * *

Shine was at the corner Chevron buying a few lotto tickets when a handsome, dark-skinned brother walked in. He was tall and stocky, like a wide receiver. He started talking to the other cashier and Shine noticed a mouth full of either white gold or platinum. With his thick braids to the back, she knew that she had to have that. The problem was that Frank was waiting outside.

Shine asked the cashier, “Which soda is the healthiest?” as if she cared.

“SoBe,” the fine brother responded. He grabbed one out of the cooler and handed it to her. “Here sexy.”

Shine grabbed the drink and paid up. “Thanks.” She gave him the eye and walked out slowly—so that he could follow her.

Shine introduced herself to the fine brother. When he asked if the guy in the Benz was her man, she said that Frank was her cousin and that they were on the way to a family function.

Antonio wrote his number down. “Call me later.”

Shine went back to the car with Frank.

“So who was that, a new trick?” he asked.

“Actually, I grew up with him and I want to keep in touch with the few that are left.”

“How noble.”

“Damn right, no bull. I don’t play around.”

Frank took this as an opportunity to probe into Shine’s past. “Which high school did you attend?”

“Harper-Archer,” she lied, because she actually attended Tri-Cities until the tenth grade, before she dropped out.

“That’s in West Atlanta. What are you doing out here near Stone Mountain?”

“I’m thirty years old, so I’m doin whatever I want, the same thing you are, looking for some action.”

Frank rubbed his crotch. “On that, I’ll agree.”

Shine’s new cell phone rang, which Frank had gave to her for his calls exclusively.

“Giving out your number lately?”

“It’s my mom. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.” She flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

“Baby, where are you?” Benita asked wearily.

“Mom, it’s so good to hear you’re fine!”

“What, you wit one of them hoodlums now?”

“Mom, don’t be silly. It’s not that late.”

Miss Benita’s raised her voice. “Are you even listening? I’m worried sick about you!”

“Just call me if you need anything. I love you!” Shine closed the phone, turning to Frank. “Let’s go to our spot, so I can find yours.”

With her mind on the quick fifty, Shine barely noticed a painful sensation in her lower abdomen.

Chapter 3—Aaliyah

Late Monday evening, Aaliyah sat in the dining room of her Decatur apartment wondering what to fix her kids for dinner. Lately, their meals had been chicken: wings, breasts and legs. It wasn’t what Aaliyah desired, but times were tough and chicken is cheap.

Aaliyah’s oldest son, Octavius, nicknamed Tay-Tay, stormed into the dining room. “Ma, we want chicken wangs!”

Aaliyah knew how Tay-Tay was, but she gave him the softest, unassuming gaze. “Tay-Tay, did you ask your brother, or did you just assume he wanted wings?”

“He want wangs!”

Tay-Tay was dark-skinned just like his father and painfully reminded her of him. Ignoring Tay-Tay, Aaliyah said, “Jabari! Jabari come here!”

Jabari came over. “Yes,” he barely said.

“Your brother says ya’ll want wings tonight, is that true?” Noticing his lack of eye contact, she already knew what was up.

“Yes,” Jabari spoke as his eyes met the floor.

“Octavius! Go cut your Play Station off. Now.”

He slowly left the room, trying to hear what she would say next.

Aaliyah kneeled her short, wide frame down to Jabari. “Now listen J, you’re my baby, my everythang. What’d I tell you about letting your brother think for you?”

“Ma, we gone eat wings, it’s ok.”

Touching his shoulders, she said, “Ya’ll just had wings the other night. I can fix some shrimp or make steaks.”

“But mama, you don’t have the money.” He looked sad at the thought.

“What you talkin bout boy?”

“Me and Tay-Tay heard you on the phone telling somebody bout how you was broke.”

“Don’t be silly, that was just grown-up talk. That’s why you don’t need to be so nosy!” She pinched his nose and he giggled, showing his gap-toothed smile. “Mama loves her boys and ya’ll gone eat steaks! Go tell your brother.”

“Tay-Tay! We eatin steak tonight!” he yelled as he ran out the room.

Damn, was this what it had come to? Your kids practically spying on you cause of worries? As she got up, Aaliyah caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and thought: No wonder they’re worried about me; I can barely hold it together.

Later that evening, Aaliyah called her new “friend,” A.J., with whom she had late-night sessions with on the regular. He was tall with long, thick dreads, coconut brown skin and a goatee—a sharp contrast to her splotchy red skin and short black hair.

A.J. was slim and sexy, Aaliyah was short, chunky and felt ugly. What could he see in me? she asked herself, calling him anyway.

A.J. knew it was her from the caller I.D. “Hey beautiful, of should I say chi-chi?”

“Stop playin A.J.! Sup wit ya?”

“Nothin sexy. I wanted to call earlier, but my girl was awake.”

“Oh. Well can you still do that thing for me?” Oh Lord, please make him say yes.

“Sure. But,” A.J. cleared his throat, “I need a favor myself.”

“Can you come by my place? My car’s out of commission.”

“You ain’t got thing fixed yet? I’ll be over.”

A.J. also stayed on the Eastside, in Conyers. When he arrived thirty minutes later, Aaliyah was waiting at the door. He rang the doorbell, the door opened quickly. Aaliyah wore a

large Spongebob tee.

“What’d I tell you about that doorbell?” she whispered. “The boys are asleep!”

“Sorry Liyah. Can I come in?”

A.J. wanted a backrub and Aaliyah complied. Her soft touch across his rough skin was gentle and relaxing. When he turned over on his back, Aaliyah continued to massage his abs, then moved below the belt.

Ten minutes later, their clothes all over the bedroom floor, they were getting busy. Aaliyah rhythmically rode A.J., her thick physique over his slender, taut frame. Though he was cute, she was ready to get this show on the road. The kids could wake up!

A.J. wiped his dick on a rag. “That was nice,” he said, catching his breath.

“You’re welcome then.” She put her t-shirt back on.

“Listen, I had to take care of some things for my girl, so I can only give you two-fifty.”

Getting up in his face, Aaliyah grimaced. “You damn well knew that shit—oh why couldn’t you have told me this earlier?”

“What, you was gone make other plans?’

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t have to answer to you; you have a girl for Christ’s sake!”

“What Jesus got to do with it?” A.J. mocked.

“Don’t fuck wit me!” she screamed, her hands in his face.

A.J. grabbed his clothes, preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’m just goin through some things.”

“That you are.” He quickly dressed, placing the cash on the dresser as he left the room. “I’ll let myself out.”

All A.J. could think about was going home to his girl and calming down. Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice Jabari peeking at him from the nearby doorway.

* * * *

A.J. leaned forward in the stiff plastic chair and rubbed his back. “What’s your ticket number?” he asked the old lady next to him in the health department.

“Don’t matter to you chile.”

“Old heffer got something to say, nothing to do.”

She raised her cane and said, “Respect your elders!”

“You might be somebody’s elder, but you ain’t mine!” he piped.

The intercom clicked. “Number 143, 143, please go to window C.”

A.J. walked up to the window. “What I gotta fill out?”

The clerk fumbled with some papers. “Sir, where is your letter?”

He pulled a piece of crumpled paper out of his jeans. “Here.”

“Okay, Mr. Johnson, have a seat and wait. The doctor will see you in a moment.”

“A’ight.” Anxiety rippled through his body as he waited.

A nurse came and led A.J. to a small examination room. A few minutes later, a tall white doctor entered the room.

“Mr. Johnson, I’m Dr. Miller.”

“Doc, I just wanna know what’s wrong with me.”

“Someone referred your name to the Dekalb County Health Department to be screened for Chlamydia.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a sexually transmitted disease, STD, which left untreated, can spread to others, and also cause sterility.”

All A.J. heard were his thoughts, Imma get that bitch Aaliyah. If his girl had contracted

the disease, she would leave him. Ain’t this some shit? That piece of pussy done fucked me up. Shock and disbelief were A.J.’s state of mind at that moment. Aaliyah would have to pay, some way, it only made sense—right?

An hour later, A.J. stared at his prescription. He would take it and be healed.

Chapter 4—Sierra

“If I cum one more time, I think I’ll go numb,” Sierra said to herself. The scents of Chanel shower gel and Redken conditioner lingered in the air.

“Oh my love, my darling, I hunger, hu-unger for your love- ooh shit!” Sierra hollered.

Pulling her fingers out of her fresh, cum-soaked vagina, she playfully tasted them. “Damn good pussy.”

Sierra hopped out of the shower and caressed her golden calves with Chanel No. 5- the epitome of sensuality. Blow drying her infusions, sexy in a satin camisole, she looked in the mirror and sighed. Surveying her rich sienna complexion and a fading bruise under her left eye, Sierra wondered whether it was all worth it. Look at yourself.

When Sierra dabbed Chanel luminance cream on her face, she instantly felt better- the cosmetic fix. She then entered the master bedroom, wholly gorgeous with a burgundy and gold color scheme, and noticed the equal beauty and loneliness of the room. The huge, majestic cherry wood bed made her feel like a dwarf in comparison. It looked good when I picked it out.

Her loneliness caused her to reach for the phone. Her husband, Wayne, didn’t answer, so she left a message. “Honey, sorry to bother you, but I want you to know I miss you like crazy...in our bed.” Sierra paused and then said, “Give me a call back.”

Two hours later, the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Why the fuck are you calling me about our goddamn sex life? I had to step out of an important meeting because of your bullshit.”

“Look baby, I­”

“Do you like making a fool of me in front of my colleagues? I’ll be home later.” Click.

Sullen, Sierra shrugged her shoulders. “Evil ass.”

* * * *

Wayne sat at the dining room table. “Sierra, come downstairs.” He paused for a few seconds. “I’m hungry.”

You always hungry, what about me motherfucker? Sierra had expected Wayne to come home about this time, a little after 6 p.m. Truthfully, she would rather have him get killed in a car accident, then all his money would go to her. “Coming, Wayne.”

Sierra came downstairs looking tight. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail. She wore snug Seven jeans and a pink For Lovers Only t-shirt hugged her breasts.

“Where the hell are you going?” asked Wayne.

“Baby, I’m just doing me, looking fabulous.”

Wayne stretched his legs out. “You only need to be doing me. You’re not outside that door, so you need to calm down.”

Silently, Sierra pulled Chinese takeout from the fridge and began to reheat it.

Wayne jumped up. “It’s sad, a man comes home and can’t get a hot meal! Just because you eat all of those frozen dinners, that Stouffer’s bullshit, doesn’t mean I have to. I take care of you, keep you in two-hundred dollar jeans, I­”

“I’ve been cooking for two weeks straight!”

“I wasn’t finished. What the hell did I tell you about interrupting me?” Bitch, you gone learn!” He slapped her once. Twice. Three times.

Alone, in the bedroom, Sierra stared into the mirror. She was supposed to be beautiful, yet she felt so ugly. “All the makeup in the world can’t cover up how I feel,” she whispered to herself. It was times like these when Sierra wanted to pack up her bags and leave Wayne—saying “fuck the money,” because she needed something more.

Sierra thought back to ’95, when she was in high school. Her mother was killed while

working third shift at a Texaco­ casualty of a robbery. “If you didn’t have to work so hard,” Sierra fought the memories, “you’d still be here.”

Chapter 5—Platinum

“Freak a lil sum for the low-low; here we go yo, on the dance floor...” The sounds of booty-shaking boomed through the woofers. Club Inferno was living up to its name­ it was on fire! Asses jiggled, big booties courtesy of injections and augmentation, a few of them au naturel.

Craig pointed at Platinum. “Pete, dere she go right there!”

Pete motioned for Platinum to come over. “Come get this money girl!”

Pete was ready for Platinum- the girl was bad. Pretty skin, tattoos in the right places- ass, back, and Taste Me above her pussy. She was a sight to behold and an ass to be held. Her bleached platinum hair was in spiral curls. It was just something about Platinum, the only woman Pete knew who looked good with long Coko claws for nails.

Platinum walked over. “Sup?”

Damn she’s fine! “Take that shit off, then talk to me.”

She quickly got naked. “Okay, so now what’s happenin?” Platinum asked, ass popping to D4L’s “Laffy Taffy.”

“Craig wanted to come down here, so I agreed to roll.”

Craig cut his eyes at Pete.

“Well.” Platinum cooed, “Do you wanna do a VIP?”

“How bout you take this key and meet me at 5 a.m.” He held out a hotel key card to the Westin—their favorite spot.

“I’ve got plans, so unless you got sumthin­”

Pete pulled out two stacks of money, 2G’s, hushing Platinum’s first statement.

“That might work.”

“Go handle your business. I see plenty thirsty-ass niggas want a dance. Call me when you on the way.”

Platinum leaned over and gave Pete a peck on the cheek. “Later baby.” Niggas love that extra attention.

As Pete and Craig were leaving, Cherokee- a broke-down Lil Kim- came over. “Hey Platinum, some nigga want you in the VIP.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” First, she had to pop an “X” pill, in order to be feeling right by the time the main event with Pete came up. Platinum entered the VIP area, peeping the scene.

“You are so sexy,” an ugly, pimple-faced guy said.

“And who are you?” she barked.

Extending his hand, he said, “I’m Christopher, but please, call me Chris.”

“This is not a chat line! There’s money to be made, so if you ain’t brangin it­”

“Sorry, but another man suggested that I see you. If I’ve intruded, I apologize.”

“Who told you to see me?”

“A light-skinned brother with braids.”

Pete. Oh shit. Pete won’t turn someone onto me unless he’s big money. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know Pete was the guy you heard about me from!” Platinum immediately took off her clothes and started dancing. She continued, “I’m just shy about who I deal with because people play so many games, though you take me as the sophisticated type.”

What neither Platinum nor Pete know was that Pete saw Chris flashing counterfeit money.

* * * *

The next morning, Platinum was at the counter of a Bank of America, ready to deposit the two grand that Pete gave her, plus the fifteen-hundred she’d made stripping.

The teller frowned. “Miss Griggs, I’m sorry but five-hundred dollars of this money is counterfeit. I’m going to have to confiscate this and have you placed in the FBI database for future reference.”

“How can this be?”

“Ma’am, where did you get this money from?”

“I’m a dancer at a club. I’m thinking maybe a customer gave it to me in the dark or something.” Chris, you bastard. You ugly bastard.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but do you know that for your negligence, charges could be pressed—Federal charges?”

“For what? Y’all need to catch the bastard that did this!” Platinum grabbed the real money. “I tell you what, Mrs. Shipmon, I won’t put another dollar in this bank and I’ll be back to close my account!”

That said, Platinum turned on her silver Gucci heels and left.

Chapter 6—Shine

Frank and Shine pulled up to a Mickey D’s near their usual meeting place. Shine was coming down off a high. Frank wanted to dine in, but Shine wanted him to use the drive-thru, which he did. Frank pulled up to the first window.

The drive-thru operator clicked on. “Well-come to Mac Donnas, may I take yo order?”

Frank spoke louder for ordering. “Yes, I’d like a number two,” he turned towards Shine, “what would you like?”

“Two double cheeseburgers and a strawberry milkshake.”

“Hmm, you already have one of those,” Frank joked.

Lately things had gotten hot between Shine and Frank. They were hooking up almost every night, getting it on. Frank was doing more and more for her.

Frank reached in the backseat. “I bought you something. Here.” He pulled out a short but classy one-shouldered silver dress.

“I love it!” Shine gushed. “Thanks!” She gave him a kiss.

“I can’t have you looking all crazy.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Shine retorted.

Frank shook his head. “Nothing, I shouldn’t have said it; I just want you to have better things.”

“So what I have ain’t good enough? Even if it costs $14.99 or whatever, it’s still nice!”

“Shine, I just want you to know there’s more to clothes out there than City Trends!”

Shine pointed in his face. “What the fuck is wrong with what I’ve got? I ain’t never had shit and now you come around here in your big Benz trynna change me! Well fuck you Frank!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me! I was only trying to help!” He grabbed their food and

pulled off.

“Money can’t buy everythang.”

“It sure can buy you.”

Slow, silent tears trickled down Shine’s face, a rare event.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your favorite words. I think we spending too much time together. I’m just a ho and you my trick. What the fuck was I thinking, letting myself get closer to you. I been hoein all my life.”

“What do you mean, ‘all your life’?”

“Please, I don’t wanna discuss it. Let’s just go do the damn thang.”

Of course Shine didn’t want to discuss how she sold pussy since the age of eight, when her mother used Shine to pay for her crack habit—Shine’s first and last pimp. Now Miss Benita was “sanctified” and trying to tell Shine how to live her life. It was too late; the streets were all she knew.

Chapter 7—Aaliyah

Jabari was on the bedroom floor playing with his toys, when Tay-Tay came back from using the toilet.

“Tay-Tay! Come here bro.”

Tay-Tay walked over. “Yeah. What?”

“Remember the other night when we had steak?”

“What about it?”

Jabari whispered. “Mama told me she didn’t need no money.”

“She don’t! We eatin t-bone steaks, J, we ballin!”

Jabari asked how was it possible that they were living so well when the “skinny man” had come over and spent time with their mother.

“What you talkin bout? Ain’t no man been over here!” Tay-Tay hollered.

“Uh-uh. You passed out from playing too much NBA Live,” said Jabari.

“Jabari, I’m nine, okay? You’re only five. I’m older and always right.” He scratched his head. “So what did the man do?”

“Nothing. He walked out looking lost. He didn’t even see me!”

Tay-Tay sat next to Jabari, questioning him about why he was up so late. Jabari apparently could not sleep, due to the numerous nightmares he had been having. Aaliyah walked in, catching the end of the conversation.

“Why couldn’t you sleep baby? Maybe you could sleep better if you made this bed up during the day. What I tell you, cleanliness is next to Godliness.”

“Mama, my bed’s made!” Tay-Tay practically yelled.

“Good. I’m gonna have to go to work today, so I’ll drop y’all off at Keisha’s house.”

“But Auntie Keisha got roaches! Why can’t me and J stay here?”

“You just can’t. Don’t look at me like that.”

Tay-Tay continued to protest, but Aaliyah was adamant about what she said. She hated her kids going to a roach-infested apartment, but she had no choice in the matter—bills had to be paid. She instructed her kids to put on their best clothes and make their beds. Jabari began making his bed, taking pride in folding the sheet back just below the pillow to show that he could accomplish the task.

“I can make my bed with my eyes closed!” Tay-Tay ogled at Jabari working on his bed. “J, why you takin so long? Ma said we got to get ready. Come on!”

Jabari finished making his bed and pulled out his favorite Spiderman shirt. Tay-Tay taunted him for wearing what he believed was “faggot” wear. Tay-Tay tickled Jabari until they were rolling on the floor.

“Stop! Stop!” Jabari giggled.

* * * *

Aaliyah pulled up to The Village at East Lake apartments where she worked as a security guard. This was where her sister Keisha lived, back from when the apartments were named East Lake Meadows. As Aaliyah parked, her car made a rattling noise.

“Mama, what’s that?” asked Jabari.

“Baby, I don’t know, I’ve got to see a mechanic about this car. What matters is that it gets us from point A to point B.” Aaliyah honked the horn as the boys got out. “Y’all give ya auntie a kiss for me!”

A few hours later, the phone rang in the security booth.

“Village at East Lake, Aaliyah speaking.”

“Bitch I know you ain’t burn me!”

“What are you- who is this, A.J.?”

“Yeah dis me. I got yo lil notice and I came out wit da clap! You a nasty bitch!”

“I ain’t burnt you. We always use protection and I’m feeling fine.”

“That’s cuz yo monkey ass need to get checked out!” he screamed.

Now Aaliyah was loud. “Evidently I been checked out. I’ll show yo dumb ass some papers!”

“Bitch I’m through wit you!”

“No, I’m thru wit you. Matter-of-fact, I’m gone go to the doctor and mail yo limp dick ass the test results­ negative!” Aaliyah slammed down the phone.

A.J. prayed that he was right about Aaliyah.

Chapter 8—Sierra

Sierra sat on her bed as she conversed with her best friend Tiffany—a Black and Puerto Rican dream.

Tiffany flipped her hair. “Girl, I’m trynna tell ya that niggas ain’t shit! You need to leave that nigga and get half, before you start chanting ‘num-yo-ho-when-gay cured’!”

“It doesn’t even go like that, you crazy heifer!” Sierra cleared her throat. “I love him.”

Sierra heard what Tiffany said, but she could not outright leave him for some reason, the man who had hurt her, who broke her spirit. In some weird way, Sierra loved Wayne, regardless of the beatings he gave her.

“Bitch, what’s love got to do with it, Tina?”

“Okay. Girl, you made your point. Listen, what I’ll do is let him know that I’m tired of the drama and see what happens.”

“You’ll see what happens when you look at yo ass in the mirror. Girl, I gotta go. Love you!”

Sierra was tired; she just didn’t know what Wayne’s psychotic self might do if she told him it was over. She figured that leaving him would have to be a gradual thing, over a long period of time, a long period.

Grace would be sufficient, something to carry her through. Sierra loved Wayne, yes, but not in the traditional sense. He was a good provider and, well, a good provider. What made things not so good was that Wayne was a hitter. Barry Bonds couldn’t compete with him.

An hour later, Tiffany knocked at the door. Sierra answered, looking sexy as ever with her hair in her face, black-and-white Chanel dress, and complementary heels. Tiffany was rocking an aqua Versace mini dress and grey contacts that complemented her red-bone skin.

Tiffany walked inside, past Sierra. They sat on the sofa. Tiffany crossed her legs over the sofa while Sierra fixed their drinks at her mini bar. Three Skyy Blues and two Kamikazes later, they were hype.

Sierra said, “I remember when we used to go to the movies, like fuck a nigga.”

“Bitch I ain’t heard you talk like that in years!”

Tiffany turned the TV to I Love New York.

“That was rude.”

“Sierra, don’t nobody wanna see that sappy Lifetime shit when they fucked up, you don’t know that shit?”

“Okay, but you’re my friend and­ what the fuck?” Some dude on the show snatching a pack of Newports out of the star’s hand sidetracked Sierra. “Oh hell no! Is he tripping or something?”

“Oh Miss Piggy? And girl, you cussin like a sailor.” Tiffany was beginning to notice all types of things going on with her friend.

Sierra defended herself by telling Tiffany that since she cussed, then she had the right to as well. All was well until Sierra snatched the remote out of Tiffany’s hand. Tiffany got her purse and headed for the door.

“I’m not that fuck nigga Wayne. Seems to me you need to tell him it’s quits, for real.”

“You the motherfucker I got a problem with!”

“Then you the motherfucker wit the problem. Drunk ass Sierra, I’m gone.”

Tiffany grabbed her drink in tow and got the hell out. Sierra was on some other shit.

Chapter 9—Platinum

“Daddy, you make me feel like a star, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!” Platinum sang aloud to the sounds of the Big Tymers while riding shotgun with Pete in his Bentley Azure.

“Platinum, you are a star, but damn! You sing every fucking song! Is there a song you don’t know?”

“Try me.”

Pete changed cd’s, hiding the label from Platinum.

Platinum bust out to the sounds of Tupac. “Now all my adversaries blast on sight, and fuck yo boyfriend, bitch I want some ass tonight!”

“So you do know it all.”

“That was easy. Biggie is hard.”

Pete pulled on the blunt one last time before throwing it out the window. “They came out about the same time.”

“That’s like saying that a person should listen to both Young Jeezy and Shawty Lo. If they do, they’re straddling the fence.”

Pete chuckled. “You should straddle me.”

“I would, but you’re about to miss the exit.”

Pete swerved into the off ramp at the last second, barely missing a vehicle.

“That was close! Damn you can drive!” Platinum’s pussy was wetter than the streets of Portland.

Platinum was dressed for success, wearing a custom-made Louis Vuitton skirt set, nipples barely covered by a skimpy halter. It looked like she was going diving in a wet suit, which was just how tight her outfit was. Pete started envisioning all the erotic things they would do later on. Platinum must have read Pete’s mind because she started unbuckling his belt as they rode through the streets of Alpharetta.

“You can’t go out to eat with cum on your mouth.”

“It’ll blend right in with the tartar sauce.”

Pete went solid as steel. “Damn you crazy!”

Platinum started sucking Pete’s dick behind the mirror tint, swishing her mouth in all directions. The loss of gravity made Pete feel like he was driving a spaceship. Pete’s phone began ringing.

“Hold up, this one of the BM’s,” he said, short for “baby mamas.” “Hey. Sup? You sound good. Yeah, I’ll do that. Bout two hours. Cause, I’m getting a bite to eat. Pappadeaux’s.”

Platinum used this as an opportunity to showcase her head game and push him over the limit. As she sucked, Pete gripped the steering wheel tighter, like he was about to explode at any moment.

“Why it got to be a bitch? Listen, do you hear anything?” If she would have listened closely, she would have heard slobbing. “A’ight then, I’ll call when I’m on the way.”

Platinum finished her job and let Pete skeet in a condom. “There it goes.”

“We been fucking so long, you need to swallow them babies.”

“What, so I can have one?” Platinum reapplied her lip-gloss.

“You can’t get pregnant like that.”

“True, but eating cum is some of the dumb shit your baby mamas do.”

True, true, Pete couldn’t argue with logic. “Don’t I take care of them?”

“Mm-hmm. But you also met me one night at a strip club and you take care of me.”

Platinum’s mind raced back to that time. It was November 2002, roughly four years before. She was 19 and had just started working at Inferno, wearing her platinum hair ultra-short. She stepped in, stripper clothes inside a Nike duffel bag. D-Lo had fired two girls that evening and was working on a third. He didn’t like Platinum from the jump—who he called a low-class hood rat trying to make a name for herself.

Platinum’s original name was Sensation, but the guys always asked for the girl with the platinum hair like Eve, so “Platinum” or “Eve” described her best. She chose the former and it was good.

Platinum headed for the dressing room one night, just arriving, dressed in street clothes.

Pete was at the bar when he asked the waitress, “Who is she?”

The waitress said that Platinum was one of the “new girls,” which meant that Pete had to have her. Because he was very rich, very cocky, and extremely persuasive, he thought it was easy to have Platinum. Pete took one look at Platinum and summed her up. Cute, but dressed raggedy coming up in a strip club. Didn’t she know that the first impression is the lasting one? Pete figured that it would only take a hundred dollars and that ass was his.

As Platinum headed out of the dressing room, she stopped at the bar to get change.

Pete stopped her. “Can I get a dance?”

“Hold on, I’ve got to get some change.”

“I got you. What you need?”

“Five twenties,” she said.

Pete pulled out a huge wad of cash. “That’s it? Here you go, plus a lil tip.”

“Twenty dollars, that’s all?”

“How you gone say that when you came in here looking dusty?”

“How you gone say that when you been watching me since I came in? I must be doing something right.”

From then on, they were kicking it. Pete gave Platinum her props and she proved to be worthwhile. She upgraded her look, now all the ballers were checking for her.

Back in the present, Platinum was still trying to figure out up from down. All that dick sucking had her jaws hurting, but she didn’t mind because it was what she thrived upon.

They pulled up to Pappadeaux’s and exited the Bentley. Some white people started staring; it had to have been at her because they might have seen a Bentley before, but not a bitch as bad as her.

Pete put his arm around Platinum. “I met you at a strip club, but girl, I could take you to a country club.”

Platinum laughed at the thought, but didn’t bother with the tartar sauce.

Chapter 10— Shine

It was Tuesday; Shine was at the Travelodge—smoking plenty of dope, getting high as she could. It was good to her, coke on a coke can. She had left her pipe in Frank’s car, but it was not an issue. Shine was going to get high and make a way out of none.

There was plenty of “drop” dope on the counter, also a few beers in the fridge, so Shine was hoped that Frank wouldn’t come trying to get her goodies that day, night, or the next day. She was content, at least until she completely ran out of dope.

The motel phone rang. Shine didn’t answer. It rang again. She took another hit. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Hold On!” Shine panicked. Oh shit, it could be them folks!

Shine stuffed most of the crack inside her pussy, then took the rest of it and hid it in the table lamp. Then she looked in the peephole and saw a disheveled-looking foreigner with long hair at the door. Shine opened the door.

“Ma’am, you have to pay your room up for the week.”

“What you talkin bout? I paid that shit!” Beads of sweat inched towards Shine’s shirt.

“Today is the last day to pay, or you’ll get kicked out.”

Damn, he is ugly. “Okay, okay, I’ll pay it later. All I know is you damned Mexicans need to leave a sista alone!”

“I not Mexican, I Indian!”

“Whatever. Ya’ll look the same to me.” Shine slammed the door.

Night fell. Between smoking crack and peeping out the window, Shine had neglected to pay the rent. When her cellular rang, things really began to go south.

“Hay baby, how you doing?” the caller asked.

What the fuck does she want? “Mama, I’m good. Look, I got to go; I’ll talk to you later.”

“But baby, I just want you to come over for Labor Day. I’m cookin on the grill and your auntie is making macaroni and cheese.”

“I’m straight,” Shine responded.

“How you gone get some meat on your bones then? I know you been smoking that stuff. Lord knows I worry bout you night and day.” Benita took a sip of lemonade.

“Mama, don’t make me go there.”

Benita cried, “You’re so disrespectful! I brought you into this world and you gonna talk to me like that? I rebuke the Devil in the name of Jesus!”

I’m sick of this Jesus shit. “I don’t wanna hear that. I wouldn’t be so messed up if I wasn’t brought up in this.” Shine was thinking how she wouldn’t be so fucked up, but she held her tongue.

“I tried to help you, I’m trying to help now. I invite you over to feed you but you wanna talk about the past. You have to let that go! Now if you wanna starve and stay on the streets, go ahead. All I can do is pray for you.” Benita wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Well, your prayers ain’t workin. Anyway, I got a room.”

“You need a home. I’m down here in Jonesboro South, making ends meet while you’re out doing what... I can’t say it.”

“I’m hoein! Hoein! I learned it from you!”

“You disgust me! When you hit rock bottom, you’ll call me! I’m gonna let you go now.” Benita hung up.

As always, Shine received the expected treatment from her mother and went back to what she expected from crack cocaine—escape.

Chapter 11—Aaliyah

Aaliyah and Keisha were having a debate over the phone about babysitting arrangements.

“Keesh just let J sleep in his Spiderman jumpsuit.”

“Gul, ya ain’t even come over here on yo lunch break­ why you want me to keep dem lil mu’fuckers?”

Aaliyah quickly corrected Keisha—her kids were not to be called out of their names. She hated those regular discussions with Keisha, but when she had to keep working overtime, there was no way around it. Keisha was an available sitter. Truth be told, Aaliyah was beginning to hate Keisha’s guts.

“Just do this for me and I’ll take care of dinner.”

Keisha took a puff of the blunt. “I was gone cook tho.”

“No! I’ll order pizza—they don’t eat your cooking and you know this! Not until you get rid of them roaches. Bye!”

Aaliyah called A.J. to enact her scheme.

“Why the fuck you callin me dragon pussy hoe­”

“Hold up! I just want you to know that you’ll be receiving a package in the mail that shows I’m clean.”

A.J. clenched his phone. “Bitch you ain’t got my address and you won’t get it!”

“Let’s just say I have friends in high places.”

“Then you need to fix your plucker, broke down, bad body hoe! BMW, body made white­”

“I’m thick wit it, not anorexic!”

“Then you got a body made wrong hoe!” A.J. hung up on Aaliyah.

Aaliyah was all right, she just wanted A.J. to know that she wasn’t the nasty one. Either his chick was cheating or A.J. was dipping in a whole lot of Kool-Aid. It didn’t matter; Aaliyah had made up her mind that she was going to the club on Friday to find a new friend. Where could she go to meet a man with bread? Club Choco.

Chapter 12—Sierra

Maybe he’ll go longer tonight, Sierra was thinking to herself. Throughout all the stress of Wayne beating her ass and talking shit to her, Sierra could use a good lay. There was only so much fucking with toys that could be done. Her vagina was thankful, but now she had a big “O” hole like she was advertising for Oprah.

Wayne was in the shower winding down from a long day at the office, doing God knows what else. He was taking a long time, so Sierra figured that he was most likely washing off pussy scent. I know that your ass is cheating. I can feel it. Might as well get this thing wet. Sierra started stroking her kitty, slowly and gently at first, flicking her clit with her index finger. As her heart rate quickened, Sierra began moaning low, moving her thumb around her clit in circles.

“Umm, unh...ooh...umm...umm!” That pussy was wet. Sierra inserted one finger and couldn’t feel anything, so she stuck two in. It still was not enough, so she stuck her pointer, middle, and ring fingers inside and pummeled her eager hole. Sierra rocked back and forth on her hand, eyes rolling back as she steadily secreted juices all over the burgundy silk sheets.

Sierra heard the shower turn off. Quickly, she wiped her hand on a towel, though not before getting a taste of her juices, then rolled the top sheet down to the edge of the bed. Wayne didn’t approve of anything that Sierra just did and she sure didn’t want him to find out.

“Sierra, where’s my Axe?” Wayne asked as he toweled dry.

“It’s in the third drawer of the cabinet, honey.”

“I didn’t leave it there,” he responded as he sprayed deodorant on.

“I had to reorganize to make room for my cosmetics.”

“That’s all you buy—that Chanel bullshit. They should pay you to advertise for them.”

“They don’t use black models.”

Dumb bitch. “So why the fuck do you buy that shit?”

Sierra ignored his question. “Honey, come out. I’ve been waiting.”

“If you wouldn’t have moved my shit, I would’ve been in there. All you want is for me to fuck you. Mr. GoodDick is coming.”

Wayne flossed and brushed his teeth. Coming in the bedroom, he could barely see. “Why are the lights out?”

“You can cut them on.”

Wayne jumped in the bed and immediately started poking Sierra, no foreplay whatsoever.

“Oh, Wayne.” Sierra pretended that it felt good.

Wayne pumped twenty times then collapsed on top of Sierra. She slid her body from underneath him and grabbed a dildo from under the bed. So much for Great Expectations. Sierra knew that she would have to get hers in the shower that night- which she did.

That sorry motherfucker Wayne didn’t even hear Sierra’s explicit cries of ecstasy like she was getting fucked by a horse. She had a monster toy for her brave pussy. You would’ve known that she was into it because she didn’t care about messing up her weave.

Chapter 13—Platinum

Thursday night, Platinum was at the braid shop on Memorial Drive and 285, getting micros put in.

“It’s 8’o’clock and ya’ll ain’t done yet?” snapped Platinum.

“Only twenty minutes, you hold still,” said one of the braiders.

Platinum was getting impatient; she had only until 10 p.m. to hook up with Craig and then Pete would be expecting her. But damn that, Pete might just have to wait.

“Almost done,” said the master braider.

“I know ya’ll bout done, cause I gotta go,” she asserted while chewing a piece of Orbit gum. “This shit gets old quick!” Platinum popped another piece.

When the Africans were finished with her braids, Platinum headed to her Escalade that Pete had recently bought her. He put ten-thousand dollars down on Platinum’s pearl white beauty that matched his own, though Pete let her know that she couldn’t get rims. You’ll get jacked, he’d said.

Platinum was walking fast, due to the breeze. She looked too damn good for a jacket.

“Hey Escalade!” a man shouted, trying to get Platinum’s attention.

Flipping her hair, Platinum gracefully turned around. This nigga is fine! He was the color of night, with pearl white teeth that complemented her truck. This could work.

“Damn baby, how can I get to know you?”

He knew what to say. “Well, you can start by flashing that sexy smile, then you might just get my number.”

He laughed, a low chuckle that showcased his smile and complemented hers.

“Come a lil closer,” said Platinum.

“Woman, you smell good. What’s your name?”

“Platinum, and I’m wearing Escada Magnetism.”

He flashed his Denzel’s again. “You sure pulled me in. By the way, my name is Jacob.”

“Like the jeweler? It’s fitting since you’re blinging. Get your cell out and take my number.” Platinum pulled out the rhinestone-encrusted version of his phone.

“Nice.”

After they exchanged digits, Jacob blew Platinum a kiss and was on his way.

Platinum pulled up in Craig’s driveway at 9:06. His main home was in Ellenwood, the area right outside of “Decatur, where it’s greater.” He was in the living room and came right to the door.

“Damn girl, you are the shit,” Craig admired Platinum’s Rock and Republic skinny jeans hugging her sexy physique.

“Truly, truly,” she spoke, doing a 360-degree turn for Craig’s pleasure.

“Pete’s been callin me. He’s been thinking about taking you along on one of our ‘business trips’.”

Curiosity piqued her. “Where?”

“Panama. You’ll get some sand and a few souvenirs before coming back.”

“That’s cool.” Craig was laid-back, Platinum’s definition of a cool motherfucker. “So, you ready?”

“Yeah, it’s a stack right there on the coffee table.”

“I want two.” Platinum placed the money in her yellow Michael Kors bag and then removed Craig’s Red Monkey jeans before she went to work. She had respect for the gear. Right there in the foyer, she gave Craig exactly what he wanted, rubbed her knees, then left.

* * * *

“Pete, what the fuck you mean you gone be late? It’s 9:45, so you gone be here the first of never?”

“N’all babe, I just got to handle some things, unless you want to do this tomorrow.”

Pete said the magic words that Platinum had wanted to hear, so she canceled her plans with him. Siren had been texting Platinum for two days straight, due to Platinum’s absence from Inferno’s popular Sunday night. Naturally, it was time to check in.

Siren said, “I been hittin you for days. What’s yo deal?”

“Pacifying these niggas and riding this Escalade.”

“Say what! Bitch, you bought a Lac?”

“Pete handled that for me, I just drive it.”

“Girl, you a trip! Bitch we miss you, even D-Lo looking crazy.” Siren lied without hesitation.

“How the fuck he miss me when he don’t even like me?” she corrected.

“Um, whatever. Just get back here before I take your clientele.”

Platinum pulled into her driveway. “Bye bitch, and oh, it’ll never happen.”

If Siren thought that she could take Platinum’s place, she had the game fucked up.

Chapter 14— Shine

Furious. Mad. Angry. Adrenaline rushed through Shine’s system. What the fuck was she supposed to do? After a late night of getting high, Shine fucked Frank so that she could get some more dope money. When she came back to the motel, her few possessions were on the street.

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