About the book
Click here to buy your copy today!
|
Sasha was fifteen years old when she slipped out of the window of her grandmother’s house to run away with Linc, her first love. But Linc had other plans. Sasha quickly found herself caught up in the deadly world of sex trafficking. Eight years later, Sasha comes home. The neighborhood has changed a lot since she left. Yet with the help of an unlikely collection of friends—a seventy-year-old diva, a six-year-old genius and a young cop who is madly in love with her—Sasha slowly starts to get her life on track.
This is not an easy task because Sasha did not return alone. She carries a load of guilt, regrets and so many ghosts from her past. On top of all that, Sasha bears a deadly secret that threatens to destroy the fragile new world she has worked so hard to rebuild. |
Check out this video
She ran away from home for love and love nearly killed her...
Sample
|
I was sure that none of these new neighbors knew about my past, though. I would’ve bet money on that fact…two days ago. But now I knew for sure, they all knew. The whole block knew.
Two days ago, I was making my routine run to the supermarket. I didn’t have a car so that meant I had to take two buses to get to the real market and not the corner store, where you had to brush off the mouse droppings to just to buy a six pack of cola—not Coke, plain old cola. Every couple of weeks, when my shopping list had grown long enough to make the trip worthwhile, I took the two-hour trip. The problem with waiting for the trip to be worthwhile was that it meant lugging a lot of bags from the market. And is it just me, or are those plastic supermarket bags getting flimsier and flimsier? Well, me and my flimsy shopping bags had made it halfway up the block when one of the bags fell completely apart, and all of my groceries spilled all over the ground. I cursed and scrambled to pick up the cans of tuna, Oodles of Noodles, and frozen dinners that spilled all over the ground before the cats ran off with them. “Need some help?” Before I could say anything, the helpful stranger crouched down and started gathering up my groceries. We tried to stuff some food in the rest of the bags, and what wouldn’t fit, he carried in his arms. “Thanks,” I said. “No problem.” He walked along side me to my house. “The name’s Dre. And you are?” “Sasha.” “Sasha,” he repeated, adding a little more spice to my name than the way I said it. “Yeah, I’ve seen you around the neighborhood a few times and kept meaning to say hi to ya but…” “But what? Your wife wouldn’t let you?” I had seen him around the neighborhood too. And his woman and two kids were never too far behind. “Wife?” He laughed, nervously, as he followed me up the steps. “Sh-she, she’s not…we ain’t married.” Well “hood married” then. That’s when a couple has been together so long, lived together, had kids together and did so much other stuff together, everyone thought they were married. “It’s okay. None of my business. Thanks for helping me with my bags.” “Hey. That’s what neighbors are for…” He walked inside and was smacked in the face by the heat. “Damn, it’s hot in here!” “I know. The ceiling fan is broke. And I can’t get the window open.” “Why didn’t you say so?” He put some of the groceries down to free his one hand and started pulling on the ceiling fan chain. It didn’t move. He studied it carefully. “Oh yeah, I can have this fixed in no time.” “You can fix stuff?” “They don’t call me the Fixer for nothing. Let me grab my tools.” He dropped the rest of the groceries on the dining room and started to leave. “Wait! How much do you charge? I don’t’ have a lot of money.” “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” He winked at me and then he bolted. Wow, this dude must really love his job, I thought to myself. I had never seen someone so excited to fix a ceiling fan. I shrugged off that thought and went about putting the groceries away. A few minutes later, I heard Dre return and immediately start working on the fan. He was making a whole bunch of noise, so I turned on the radio. The Isley Brothers, Groove with You, was playing on the radio. I don’t know why, but I love the Isley Brothers. I think it was because they were my mother’s favorite group. And when she put them on, lit some incense and cleaned up her bedroom, I knew what was coming next: “Sasha, put your pj’s on!” Her boyfriend, Uncle Mark, was coming over to “spend some time with her.” And I would be spending the night at our neighbor, Miss Cassie’s house—which I didn’t mind. She had two daughters about my age and they had more dolls to play with than any girl could’ve dreamed of. I was really young when all of this was going on. I knew Uncle Mark wasn’t really my uncle, but I didn’t know anything about sex or booty calls. My mother worked really hard and Uncle Mark must not have lived close by, because he didn’t come over often. But when he did, my mother transformed! From stressed out, weary, single mom, to a vibrant, sexy woman. She even put on makeup. Sometimes I forgot how beautiful my mother was, but she really was gorgeous. And for days after a visit from Uncle Mark, Mommy practically floated around the house. That’s what I was doing now while I pulled out the ingredients for dinner. Floating. I floated into the living room where Dre was working and said, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want.” “Aw thanks girl. You didn’t have to go through no trouble.” “Oh, it’s no trouble. Just a token of my appreciation.” He gave me a sly smile. “You appreciate me, huh?” “Uh huh.” “All right. I appreciate that.” Okay, if it seemed like I was flirting with Dre, it’s because I was. I flirted with him knowing that he was hood married. What can I say? He was fine. He had that tall, muscular, blue-collar thing going on. And I’ll admit it, I had my needs. I was feeling a little lonely and this Isley Brothers’ music had put me in a mood. But what happened next, even I wasn’t prepared for. I had the ground beef sizzling in the pan and had just added the Hamburger Helper, when I heard Dre say “Mmm! That looks good.” I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the food. I let that roll off of me and said. “Did you get it working?” “Sure nuf!” “Yes! Thank you so much, Dre. You just don’t know…,” I said, so excited by the thought of not having to bake in that oven of a living room anymore. “Oh, I know.” I pulled out the chair for him at the kitchen table. “Okay, so why don’t you make yourself comfortable. I’m going to run upstairs and get something for you.” I ran upstairs and into my old bedroom. In the top dresser drawer, was where I kept my stash. The money that I saved for emergencies. I had about $120 saved. I didn’t know how much it cost to fix ceiling fan, but he had only worked on it for about a half an hour. So, I took out $20. It seemed like a fair price. If he pressed me for it, I might be willing to go up to $30, but I was hoping he would be happy with the twenty. Turns out that this fool would have been happy if I had come downstairs with a piece of gum. Nothing else. No clothes, no shoes, no panties, just butt naked with a stick of gum. Because that’s what I found with I came down stairs and back to the kitchen. The twenty-dollar bill slipped out of my hand, as I shouted: “What the…why are you standing in my grandma’s kitchen butt naked?!!” He gave me that sly grin again. “Huh? I gotta get home soon, so I figured we could just skip dinner and cut right to dessert.” “And you thought dessert was me?” “Yeah,” he slid back down in the chair, with his knees wide apart like he was expecting to receive something. But all I kept thinking was: You’ve got your naked black butt on my grandmother’s chair. I know she’s rolling over in her grave. Dre said, “Listen, I was talking to my boy, Craig. He told me about you. Said you were setting up your own spot here. And I said, ‘Word! That’s a great idea. I really admire women entrepreneurs. She got my support.”’ “You think I’m in the sex business?” He must have read the annoyance on my face, because he stood up and walked over to me then said in a soothing tone, “Look, it’s cool. You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell the cops or nothing. I mean, why would I want to shut that business down? I mean, all the fellas will be over here getting serviced.” “Serviced, huh?” I said, folding my arms. Inside I was heated, but that didn’t stop him from running his mouth. “You’ll probably have to bring in a few girls to keep up with the demand.” “I will, huh?” “And of course, I’d be happy to be your personal handyman.” His eyes lit up when he said this. “I can put in a couple of air conditioners, so your clients will be comfortable. I can even put in a stripper pole for ya. I’ve installed a couple of them. And them jawns are nice! I wouldn’t even charge you full price. I’d give you a special discount.” He leaned in close. I could feel his ding-a-ling pressing up against my leg and his lips inching closer to mine. I put my hand up and blocked his lips. He looked confused, until I smiled and said sweetly, “Can you excuse me for one sec? I just need to get something.” He kissed my fingers, which were still in front of his face. “Sure baby. I’ll be waiting right here.” He sat back down, legs wide open, ding-a-ling pointing straight up in the air. Then he licked his lips. His idea of being sexy. “I’ll be right back.” And I was. I was back in less than two minutes. But I wasn’t alone. I had Lady with me …and Miss Lola. “The devil is a liar! Boy, have you lost your mind?!!” At the sound of Miss Lola’s voice, Dre scrambled to his feet and scurried behind a chair to cover his goodies. “Miss Lo-I…uh, Sasha—” “Sasha, what? Sasha told me you fixed her ceiling fan. And when she went to go pay you, she found you standing in her kitchen butt naked.” Which was the truth. So, I stood by Miss Lola, nodding my head confidently. I wasn’t the least bit worried about him telling her I was a prostitute because I knew she wouldn’t believe anything that came out of a naked man’s mouth. Miss Lola kept ranting. “…I mean, you fixed my ceiling fan last year and only charged me forty dollars. Did your prices go up? Please, tell me now cuz I was gonna ask you to fix the leak in my sink. Am I gonna have to buy myself some rubbers too?” Dre laughed nervously. “That’s a good one, Miss Lola,” then he turned to me. “Why’d you bring her over here!” “Don’t you dare yell at her! Why wouldn’t she bring me over here? She’s a single woman, living on her own. The last thing she needs is some hound dog in heat, trying to hump all over her because she needs help.” The more heated Miss Lola got, the more Lady got heated too. She started in with that loud, deep bark that I was sure the whole neighborhood could hear her. “Aw, shut up, Lady,” Dre barked back. “You ain’t gonna do nothing but make a lot of noise.” I guess Lady took that as a challenge, because all of a sudden, she took off after Dre. He wasn’t talking so tough anymore. His voice got all high-pitched and he started screaming, “Get the dog! Get the damn dog!” The thought of getting gummed in the butt—or on the other side—by a toothless dog was enough to light a fire under Dre. He shot out from behind the chair, trying to scoop up his clothes and protect his private parts at the same time. Lady was right on his heels as he broke through the screen door. Miss Lola was laughing so hard, she couldn’t even call Lady off of him. The old dog ran out of energy half way down the block. But she had hung with him long enough to prove her point. She still had it. And the rest of the block knew she had it, because they cheered the dog on and laughed at Dre at the same time. I made a special plate of Hamburger Helper for Lady, my way of thanking her. I offered some to Miss Lola, but she politely said no. She was too busy scrubbing off the chair where Dre had planted his butt. “Gladys would have a fit if she saw that fool stinking up her nice kitchen set. It took her three years to pay this off.” When she finally finished scrubbing, Miss Lola glared at the chair, still not satisfied. “I don’t know, Sasha. You might have to burn this chair.” I looked at her, not sure if she was kidding. Then she busted out laughing. So, did I. I had to sit down, I was laughing so hard. All throughout the night, I found myself breaking into sudden laughter. I think when Misha came to see me in the middle of the night, she was laughing too. The laughter continued off and on throughout the morning and into the late afternoon. It had been years since I laughed so hard. Belly aching laughter. It felt so good. Until I heard the glass break. |
To find out more about Human trafficking, please visit these sites:
Book Excerpt:
Chapter 1
A Bad Feeling
A Bad Feeling
All alone in the bowels of the palace, Edgar Laurence had plenty of time to reevaluate his life choices. He did not deserve this. None of this. Ten years ago, he was the trusted personal assistant to the king—King Callum of the House of Beaumont. He did such a stellar job that the king appointed him to be the assistant to his sole living heir, Princess Vega.
“She’s lost her mother,” the king said. “I’m too busy to teach her these things,” he said. “Teach her to be a royal, Edgar. Serve her as faithfully as you did me,” he insisted. And the payment Edgar received for his faithful service? A death sentence. He had served his princess faithfully and was rewarded with a swift ticket to the dungeons. And a date with the firing squad.
Some of his coconspirators—as labeled by the king—had already kissed the gun. Palace guards, Stone and Silver, and interrogators Oaks and the Duchess, whose only crime had been serving the princess and dutifully keeping her secret. Edgar would be joining them soon.
He patiently awaited his turn, even now, as he remembered that faithful night when Princess Vega came to him, tears streaming down her delicate cheeks. “She’s alive, Edgar! What am I going to do?”
“Who’s alive, Princess?”
“My sister. Astrid’s alive, Edgar. What am I going to do?”
“Who’s been telling you these lies, Highness? You know your sister was murdered with your mother.”
“No!” The princess grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “That’s the lie. She was not murdered. I saw her with my own two eyes on that island. She’s one of them.”
“One of who?”
“The Underground. All this time, she’s been living on that…that island of freaks. Mother must have arranged it before she died,” Vega said. “She’s probably up in heaven laughing at me, right now. She always hated me.”
“Your mother loved you, child,” Edgar replied, even more confused by the direction of this conversation.
“Then why is she still punishing me all these years later.” Vega whirled around. “Did I tell you she has a voice now?”
“Who does?”
Vega nearly blew her stack. “Keep up, you idiot!...Astrid! Astrid has her voice.”
“That’s impossible. How could that be?”
“It could be because she’s been living on that island of freaks, with their witchcraft.”
Freaks? Witchcraft? Little girls coming back from the dead? He was afraid some sort of fever had overtaken the princess while she was on that island. But when Vega brought him to that room, that little room on the lower level of the palace, Edgar nearly fainted. There she was. Lying unconscious on that sliver of a mattress. The spitting image of Princess Vega—except this unconscious girl’s hair had not been dyed candy red like Princess Vega.
“Believe me now?”
“Unbelievable!” Edgar replied, in a state of shock. He reached down to touch her, but caught himself, as it was forbidden to touch royalty without permission. “Is she alive?”
“For now. I didn’t know what to do with her. She could ruin me, Edgar?”
He tore his eyes away from the unconscious twin and fixed them on the frantic twin. “How?”
“How?…B-sh-she…because she has a claim to the throne,” Vega sputtered.
“Hardly. She’s deficient.”
“I told you she can speak.”
“But her birth record still says deficient. Once deficient always deficient. Do you seriously think the Citizen’s Council would want a deficient ruling over them? That would be scandalous!”
“I don’t put anything past that council. They’ve never liked me. And what about the Underground?…They’re all sorcerers. They could use their witchcraft to influence the council.”
“Princess, I think you’re being a little—"
“I’m not being dramatic, Edgar.” Why was everyone always accusing her of being dramatic? “I saw it with my own eyes. She had us under her spell. There was a room filled with her friends right before our eyes and we couldn’t see them. Until we shot her with that serum…”
“Serum?”
Vega rambled on. “…And I think she even had Chance under her spell while he was there too.”
“Is the lieutenant all right?”
“He is now. Now that he’s with me. But you see now, Edgar, don’t you? I need your help. Please?”
What else could he do? He helped. With the assistance of his most trusted guards, Silver and Stone and a few others, they hid Princess Astrid—right there in the palace, right under the king’s nose. Edgar knew it was dangerous, but his responsibility was to Princess Vega. And he was hoping to buy some time to come up with a better solution—one that didn’t involve the murder of a royal. At the same time, Vega was not just interested in keeping her sister a secret, but also to get her hands on that magical elixir that had restored Astrid’s voice. Apparently, Princess Vega detested magic, unless it benefitted her. This healing water, Vega hoped, would make her military unstoppable. Chance had told her about it, and she was desperate to find it.
But time ran out. Chance, apparently still under Astrid’s spell, had helped her and her friends escape, somehow the king got wind of it, and now here Edgar sits, biding his final hours in this black hole at the bottom of the palace. He would have it no other way. He had done his job. And if the reward for doing his job well was a death, he would proudly accept his trophy.
“You’d think they’d at least give me a final meal,” he said to no one. His stomach growled so loudly that it echoed through the dark empty chamber.
The growl lasted a little too long. Edgar realized the sound he heard wasn’t his stomach at all. It was the scraping of a heavy metal door.
They were coming for him.
His heart started racing. He wasn’t ready to die. Even at sixty-three, he was too young. He had so much to live for.
Footsteps grew closer, as did the clanking of the keys. There was another loud scraping sound as second heavy door was yanked open. Next came the ultrabright light from a flashlight that flooded the cell.
Edgar cowered in the corner with his eyes shut tight. “Don’t!...Please, don’t kill me,” he whined. “I throw myself on the mercy of the king!...Mercy! Mercy!!!”
“Are you finished?”
He recognized that voice. “Highness?”
“Yes, you whimpering coward, it’s me.”
“How did you…”
“I’ll explain when we get upstairs. It reeks down here.”
That was all Edgar needed to hear. He scrambled out of his cell door on his knees then struggled to get on his feet. His back had stiffened while being stuck in that cold, cramped cell. He rocked side to side, hoping to roll himself onto his feet.
“For the love of God! Here.” Vega reached down and helped hoist him up.
“Thank you, Princess. Thank you, so much. Thank—”
She waved him off. “You can thank me later. We’ve got a coronation to plan,” she said, leading him out of the dungeon. “And a body to dispose of.”
*****
The stench of rotting garbage was the first clue that Astrid was entering Oceali waters. Just three miles off the coast rested the enormous barge that held the bulk of the nation’s refuse. A few minutes later, the cruiser washed up on the southern shore of Oceali. All of the ports were closed due to the king’s memorial. The southern coast was the most remote, only inhabited by a few wealthy families who owned stately homes that dotted along the coast.
Mitsi docked the boat near the home of a family that was very loyal to the Underground. They could be counted on for a closed mouth and an open dock—as well as a storage shed full of food and other supplies. The boat made a dull thud, bobbing against the dock, while Misti tied it to the post. The thud was enough to wake Astrid, but Alfred was still sound asleep.
She didn’t realize how tired she was. Astrid barely slept the night before, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak away from the hideout and hijack this boat—hijack Mitsi to hijack this boat. Alfred must not have had any sleep either, because he slept like a rock, even as Astrid lifted him out of the boat and laid him down on the dock.
“Thank you,” was all she could say to Mitsi, because she wasn’t sure what else to say to someone she had just used her power on to coerce into stealing a boat and bringing her and Alfred to Oceali. “Go back now and—” she started to give Mitsi a new command, but Mitsi put up her hand and silenced her.
“For the record, kid, your powers stopped working on me two hours ago.”
“They did? Then why did you…But you brought us here anyway. Why?”
Mitsi smirked, as she made her way to the shed at the other end of the dock, “Let’s just say, it wasn’t just the children who were cheering you on during your little speech, yesterday.”
A fact that Astrid had not been aware of. Her little speech. As Dr. Grace, the interim head of the Underground, laid out the plan for them to abandon the Isle of the Never Mind and search for a new home, that plan didn’t sit well with Astrid.
“Why should we remain in the dark?” she demanded of Dr. Grace. “Why keep running? Aren’t you all tired of hiding? We’ve done nothing wrong. Why should we have to live in fear all the time?”
Dr. Grace wasn’t at all bothered by Astrid’s outburst. She actually seemed to welcome it. Dr. Grace said nonchalantly, “Sounds good. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we fight.”
Astrid’s words were met with a raucous cheer by the other kids. She thought it was only kids. But apparently, at least one other adult in the room quietly supported her opinion.
Even if Mitsi and the other children supported Astrid, Dr. Grace shot her down immediately with four words. “Queen’s Order Number One.” Vega’s plan to destroy the Underground after obliterating the Never Mind. They had no choice but to flee their home, even Astrid had to admit that. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t return to Oceali and fight on her own. Which is what she fully intended to do.
She had a plan. Steal a few vials of healing waters. Hi-jack a boat. Hi-jack Mitsi to drive that boat. Sneak into Oceali with her sidekick Alfred—well Alfred wasn’t part of her plan, but he came along anyway, so Astrid incorporated him into the plan.
“So, what’s your plan?” Misti asked. She had retrieved a couple of canisters of fuel from the shed and was now in the middle of refueling the cruiser. “I’m assuming there is an actual plan.”
“Oh, there’s a plan, all right,” Astrid replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “But it’s probably best if I don’t tell you…For your protection.”
Mitsi’s eyes lit up. “My protection? But the kid, here, can handle it.” She gestured toward Alfred, who was now awake and highly offended.
“Hey!” he said, mid-yawn.
“Take care of her, little flea…” Mitsi reached down and patted Alfred on the head. “…And yourself.” She popped the top on the empty fuel canister and set it back inside the shed. When Mitsi returned, she announced, “Well, since I’m not needed here, I guess I’ll head back to my post.”
“Thanks again for your help.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mitsi hopped back into the cruiser.
“Hey! One more thing…” Astrid reached into her knapsack and pulled out Dr. Grace’s fancy tech-watch. “Can you show me which number belongs to Russell Bitters?”
“Where did you get this?”
Astrid grinned at her, proud at how she easily she was able to lift that watch off of Dr. Grace under the pretense of an apologetic hug.
“Forget I asked.” Misti snatched the watch from Astrid’s hand and scrolled through a series of four-digit numbers. “This one. 0415. Everyone picks their own number. I forget what Russ’ number—”
“It’s his son’s birthday.” Russ—Uncle Russ to Astrid—the man who had cared for Astrid after her mother was killed, during the failed escape. He too had lost everything that was dear to him because of the Royal Proclamation—the decree that required all deficient, including Astrid, to be sent to the dreaded facilities at the age of six. As a longtime member of the Underground, Russ was no friend to the royals—except for Astrid. She knew she could count on his help. “Thank you,” she said again to Mitsi, taking the watch back from her.
“Sure thing.” She tugged on the loose wires of the hotwired cruiser and the motor sprang to back to life.
“One more thing,” Astrid said, raising her voice to be heard over the motor.
“Yeah?” Mitsi yelled back.
“Do you have any money?”
