Get Me Right Again

Diamond Johnson

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 06 mars 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781648540080
• Langue: English

Extrait

Get Me Right Again
Shaniqua & Desmond


Diamond Johnson
© 2017
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com


All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
Contents



1. Shaniqua Carter

2. Desmond “Dee” Rogers

3. Harlem Bell

4. Shaniqua Carter

5. Chase Williams

6. Desmond “Dee” Rogers

7. Krista Jones

8. Shaniqua Carter

9. Desmond “Dee” Rogers

10. Chase Williams

11. Desmond “Dee” Rogers

12. Shaniqua Carter

13. Harlem Bell

14. Desmond “Dee” Rogers

15. Shaniqua Carter


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1

Shaniqua Carter

It was Christmas morning. Most people woke up on this day happy as hell, anticipating opening gifts from their loved ones, giving gifts to their loved, and just taking the time out to actually sit down and ponder all the things that they were grateful for. Truth is, I had so much to be grateful for. I had my family, friends, and I was lucky enough to be employed, affording me the luxury of buying anything that I wanted and never need to have my hand out for a man or my family.
While I had so much to be grateful for, I still couldn’t help but notice that every year was the same shit. I watched everyone else around me as they exchanged smiles with their significant others and they expressed, ‘I love yous’ to each other and even exchanged kisses damn near every five minutes. Truth is, I wanted that. I wanted to wake up to someone who genuinely loved me for me one Christmas morning. Hell, it didn’t even have to be Christmas; it could be two weeks, or maybe even two months from now.
I had watched my parents for as long as I could remember love on each other, and then I watched my brother love on his wife. Was it really too much to get a man to love me and look at me the way that my daddy looks at my mother? Or even the way Jah looks at Antonia? I had standards when it came to the type of man that I planned to bring home, so I couldn’t let just anybody meet my family. Even though I had standards, my goal wasn’t to find the perfect guy because I knew that would never happen, and that I would probably die single.
I wasn’t like Chilli from the R&B singing group TLC, where I had a whole list of expectations that I wanted in a man. All I wanted was someone who was handsome, smart, funny, and would not only respect me as his woman, but respect me as a woman in general. I didn’t want the type of nigga who felt that he could buy me, because truth be told, there wasn’t a pair of Christian Louboutins that I didn’t already have. There wasn’t a Chanel purse that I couldn’t buy, and there wasn’t a credit card that I didn’t already have in my wallet that I couldn’t swipe myself! I didn’t want the next dude that I dated to feel like he had to show case his money to win me over.
Niggas have to understand; my daddy used to be the biggest dope dealer in Miami before he went away to prison, so I’m used to money and expensive things. Show me something different than taking me out on a Saturday morning and have me go crazy in Saks Fifth Avenue. Show me something different than putting a few bands in my purse. I wanted a nigga to get into my head. I wanted him to build me up. I just wanted him to get me right again, that’s all.
After watching one too many episodes of Being Mary Jane, I took it upon myself to start writing down motivational quotes and using them to help me get through the day. Since I was still at my brother’s house for the Christmas weekend, I wasn’t able to have my paper labels that I would hang up on my mirror. So, instead, I was looking at motivational quotes online. The quote for today was from one of my favorites, which was Maya Angelou. That quote said, my mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive, and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.
After repeating that line about ten times, I swear I felt ten times better. I was taking advantage of this break that I had from work, so after going downstairs with my family and friends at seven in the morning to open the gifts, I was right back in my bed. I wasn’t trying to distance myself or anything from my family, it’s just that every morning, I was up faithfully at five or six on the dot, so excuse me if I wanted to get a few more hours of sleep. I’d received so many gifts this morning too, my favorite of them all would have to be the Birkin bag that my big brother got for me. He knew how much of a sucker I was for a good purse. Before I made it back into my bed, I purposely made sure to go to sleep with my door locked so nobody tried to come in my room and attempt to pull me out of the bed. Many attempted, especially my little niece, Tori, and my nephew, PJ.
When I woke up, I looked at the clock to the left of me and realized that it was a little after twelve. I knew that my mom was going to have a lot of shit to say once I made it downstairs because most likely, I’d slept through eating the Christmas meal with my family. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and headed for the bathroom to shower. I stayed in the shower for about a good twenty minutes and when I stepped out, I wrapped the towel around my body.
I stared at myself in the mirror, and not to come off as cocky and conceited, but I honestly felt bad for the people who had me in the past but just didn’t know how to handle me. Not only was I beautiful, with my tall, slender frame and an onion booty that damn sure poked without me tooting my ass up, I had the same hazel colored eyes as my brother. All that long, pretty hair that I once had was now cut into a shoulder length bob. I’m sorry, but Miami was just too damn hot to be wearing long hair. I often rocked my hair in a feathered bob, but every now and then, I would rock braids or even have bundles sewn in.
I had so much more to offer than my looks, though. I cooked, cleaned, worked hard, and when I loved, I loved so fuckin’ hard. I would treat my dude as if he was a king, and I was his damn servant. I’m talking back rubs, having dinner served by the time he walks through the door, and my fuckin’ skills were through the roof. I often wondered if niggas were bothered by the fact that I was too much of a woman to them, so that caused them to cheat.
The love of my life was my ex-boyfriend, Travis. I swear I used to worship the ground his ass walked on, and he took everything that I did for granted. I would come home to find condom wrappers under our bed, which would only proved to me that he was fuckin’ bitches while I wasn’t home because him and I had long ago stopped using condoms. I felt like I was fighting different bitches in the streets damn near every day over his ass. I had bitches popping up on my job to confront me about him. I swear, the disrespect was so real, but when you’re so stupidly in love with a person, you just continue to take them and all the bullshit that comes along with them.
Not only was Travis disrespecting me, but toward the end of our relationship, he started putting his hands on me. The time when he almost killed me by beating me with an extension cord, I had to tell Jah, and my brother popped up on his ass and beat the shit out of him. It’s crazy because I never told Jah or my mother that Travis had started putting his hands on me. It’s just that I loved him so much at the time, and I didn’t want to lose him, so I stayed.
It took me getting fucked up with an extension cord for me to realize that this man didn’t love me, and I haven’t looked back ever since. Karma was a bitch though, because about a month after Jah beat Travis’ ass, we found out that he was murdered, and I didn’t shed a tear for his ass. He wasn’t even worth it. I cried so many tears being with him, so I damn sure wasn’t about to cry because he had left this earth.
I finished applying my makeup, which had me looking two times better than going to Mac and having them do it for me. Truth is, doing makeup was my side hustle. When I wasn’t working at the bank, I was doing makeup in the living room of my condo. My family was all in my ear, telling me that I should take it serious and open my own business doing makeup and selling my own products, but I honestly didn’t think of it like that. I just thought of it as another source of income to have in my pocket.
I mean, having my own business did sound tempting as hell. Some days, I hated working at the bank, and I wanted to just walk out in the middle of the day and quit, but this was something that I would have to just put in God’s hands.
After putting on my makeup and feathering my bob, I went back into the bedroom and threw on the clothes that I had laid out on the bed for me. It was Christmas day, but it was hot as hell in Miami, so I was wearing some jean shorts that stopped a few inches above my knees. They were distressed, with all types of rips in them. To go with the bottoms was my nude body suit that had a low dip on the sides, so it showed a little bit of my tiger tattoo that started from the side of my right breast and went down into the middle of my stomach. When you have a brother who does tattoos for a living, you have no choice but to have a love for art as well.
Since I would most likely be staying in the house all day with my family, I slid my white painted toes into a pair of gold Christian Louboutin sandals. T