Married to the Money

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Greed is defined as an excessive desire to possess more than what one needs or deserves, especially wealth and power. A gold-digger is defined as a person who dates someone simply to extract money from them. Twenty-six-year-old Chanel Franklin fits both definitions to a tee. Her “Married to the Money” mentality leads her to make more than a few bad choices. On the road to riches, she gets caught up in a whirlwind affair with a certified baller. After losing her mind and common sense, she gives up a good job, a great man, and a comfy lifestyle just to live life in the fab lane.
 
On Chanel’s journey to obtain the finer things in life, she quickly realizes the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. More money almost always means more problems! She’s been betrayed by family, friends, and a few false admirers. She’s also learned more lessons, both physical and mental, than she cares to remember. When she realizes money is the root of all evil, it may be too late. Everything comes at a price; hers just may be her life.

Release date: January 26, 2021

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

I woke up this morning feeling like money. The pink silk sheets felt great against my naked skin. I turned toward the clock and noticed it was 8:00 a.m. I smiled because it was my twenty-seventh birthday, and I knew the day would be fabulous. As I rose from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, my phone rang.

“Hello.” I was smiling as I stared at the sexy face on my call screen.

“Happy birthday, Ms. Jackson,” My fiancé, Dominic, teased in his usual husky tone.

I rolled my eyes because this asshole knew I hated my old last name of Jackson. At birth, I was named Chanel Erica Jackson, but I had changed it a few years ago to Chanel Erica Franklin . . . because I was married to the Benjamins! Yes. You heard me right.< Money was my reason for breathing and the motive behind everything I did. Therefore, it was only fitting to be named after a Franklin instead of a punk-ass Jackson, whose worth was only $20. Shit, truth be told, Jacksons couldn’t do nothing for me except fill up my gas tank.

“Dominic, why are you messing with me, and where are you?” I rolled my eyes and pressed the speakerphone button. He should’ve been right here when I woke up, to cater to my every need. Hell, on my birthday I expected him to do everything for me, right down to wiping my ass if I asked him to.

If you think I was high maintenance, you’re right. I was a 26—excuse me—27-year-old woman who knew what she wanted. I went after the finer things in life, and that was a fact. I was looking for Prince Charming because I wanted it all. Now I ain’t saying I was a gold digger, but I wasn’t messing with no broke nigga, and you can believe that.

“I had to go into the office early, baby. My bad,” Dominic answered. He sounded really sorry, but I didn’t care. My damn birthday was a national holiday in my house. He should’ve taken the day off like I’d told him to do in the first place. Sometimes his ass made me sick because he was so selfish.

“Are you being serious right now?” I smacked my lips and leaned down to run hot bathwater into the soaker tub. “I thought you were taking the day off to be with me,” I whined. This was something I often did when I didn’t get my way.

“I would if I could, but I can’t because I need my job and we need the money. Don’t forget we have a wedding to plan and the bills that come with it,” he reminded me.

“Whatever. One damn day off would not have put a dent in your paycheck.” I was pissed. I was sure he knew it when I hung up. If he didn’t have time for me on my birthday, I didn’t have time to finish the conversation.

Just as I was starting to brush my teeth, I was startled by a presence in the doorway.

“Damn, is that how you do me when you don’t get your way?” Dominic walked into the bathroom and stared at me through the mirror on the medicine cabinet. I didn’t say anything to him, just continued to brush my teeth. Wrapping his muscular chocolate arms around my small waist, he squeezed me lovingly. After leaning down to rinse my toothpaste-covered mouth, I turned around to face him.

“I thought you had to work.” Looking up at him with my brown eyes and perfect eyelashes, I batted them for special effect.

“I do, but I wanted to make sure your day started off right.” He gave a half-smile that made my panties moist. I wasn’t wet because of his smile, although baby boy was fine. I was wet because I knew presents were about to be given.

“Here are your gifts, baby. Happy birthday!”

Pressing my full lips against his, I smiled and ran my hand down his freshly shaven bald head. Then I snatched my gifts.

The first one was inside a burgundy box, and I knew it was jewelry. Removing the lid, I revealed the most beautiful pair of diamond earrings I’d ever been given by anyone. The clarity was perfect, and I knew they cost between $2,000 and $3,000. Next, there was a card, but I didn’t bother reading it. The $2,000 spilling from it onto the ceramic tile caught my attention instead.

“See, that’s the smile I love to see.” Dominic turned me to face the mirror so I could see my reflection.

“Well, keep giving me gifts like these and this smile will never go away.” I was half kidding around, but he knew I was also half serious.

“Girl, you’re something else, but I love you.” He leaned in for another kiss and then walked toward the bathroom door.

I took in the sight before me and bit down on my bottom lip. Dominic was sexy as hell. He was six feet four inches tall, around 245 pounds of solid muscle, and the color of cinnamon toast. His face was that of a model’s, and the large tattoo of the word “loyalty” across his broad shoulders was just enough to put the cherry on top.

“I love you more, Dom.” I called him Dom for short, and I said I loved him because I honestly did. He was the man of my dreams, and I could barely wait the thirteen months until I would be his wife. We’d been together since college, and nothing could rip us apart. We were a power couple and a force to be reckoned with. I was a senior banker at Greensway Banks, with hopes of putting my degree to better use in the investment banking world. Dominic was a chief account executive at Farris, Mueller and Finch. We lived in a three-bedroom dream home in a gated community in the West Chester area just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. I drove a fire red Nissan Maxima, and Dom was pushing a triple-black Lexus. Our bank accounts were chunky, and life was grand, although things didn’t start out that way.

Dominic Breon Lacey was a kid who was raised in the system after his 16-year-old mother took him back to the hospital forty-eight hours after birth. She left him swaddled up and crying on the nurses’ desk, never to be seen or heard from again. Dominic didn’t have the best of anything in his youth, which made him hustle hard on the streets of Lima, Ohio as a teenager. He pounded the pavement with pounds of crack cocaine to provide for himself when the system failed to do so. When everybody else tricked their hustle money at the strip club on Fridays, Dom stacked his bread right down to the raggedy pennies, with high hopes for a better tomorrow. After saving what he thought was enough to pay for college tuition, he boarded a Greyhound bus to Cincinnati and never looked back.

I, on the other hand, was a hood chick from the cutthroat streets of Detroit, Michigan. Although both our moms had us at young ages, my story was slightly different because my mother, Porscha, was my girl. She had my sister, Kristian, at 13 and me at 15. Things may not have always been the best for us, but we never went a day without food, clothes, a roof, nor electricity. Porscha did what she had to do, bottom line. We grew up more like friends, and even now most people thought my mom was my sister because of how she looked, dressed, and talked. Our yellow skin tones matched to a T. Her coal black hair was naturally curly like mine, and she still had a body to die for. They say apples don’t fall far from the tree, so I thanked the Lord often that my tree was one well put-together motherfucker! To sum it up, my mama was a cold piece of work, and I was proud to walk in her footsteps. Porscha was 42 years old and had never worked a day in her life, yet she drove a 2019 Jaguar. She owned a condo on the riverfront, overlooking the Detroit River/Canada border. My mama also rocked enough jewelry to open up her own pawn shop. She schooled me to the game early, and it was because of her that I could sniff out money like a bloodhound.

Ever since I was a small child, my mama had planted the gold-digger seed in my head. However, I decided to upgrade to platinum status and take a different approach to my life. Instead of waiting around for some nigga to come save me, I chose to somewhat save my damn self. I had big plans for my life, and leaving Detroit was necessary. I wanted to see the world beyond the city limits, but my money only took me as far as Cincinnati. I enrolled in Cincinnati State University and set out on a mission to get rich or die trying.

I wasn’t the sharpest kid in class, but I obtained my associate of applied business degree to guarantee consideration of placement in the corporate world. I needed that piece of paper to find my future partner and climb the corporate ladder. Unbeknownst to me, my future partner had been my friend and study buddy since freshman year. Dominic asked me to be his girl, and of course my answer was yes. He was heading places in life, and I was riding shotgun. Years later, here we stood, stronger than ever and destined for great things.

Much to my disappointment and despite my protests, Dominic headed off to work. Still, I managed to hustle another $500 out of him before he left. Feeling vindicated, I stepped into the tub and began to plan my day. Just as thoughts of Macy’s and Saks entered my mind, the cell phone rang again.

“Hello.”

“Happy birthday, Chanel. What are we doing today?” my friend Trina asked. Trina was cool, and if I had to say I had a best friend, she’d be it. I was the type of girl who hung around all boys growing up because girls had entirely too much going on. I had never chased a skirt, as my mom would have said. I always followed the money and the boys who had plenty of it. Somehow though, Trina had managed to find a place in my life.

“Girl, I don’t know. It’s my birthday, so what do you have planned for me?” I pressed the speaker button and lay back in the watermelon-scented bubbles.

“I thought we could go down to Kenwood Mall. You know, do some shopping, have dinner, and hang out.”

“Okay, call Noel and it’s a date,” I said as my line clicked. Shaking my hand dry, I tapped the screen on my phone without saying bye. “Hello.”

“Happy birthday, Chanel baby,” my mama said in a tone that let me know she was still half asleep.

“Thanks, Mama. What’s up?” I smiled, genuinely happy to hear from her.

“Ain’t nothin’ up. I was just calling to say happy birthday, and now I’m gonna roll my ass over and go back to sleep,” she said as it sounded like she was moving around in the bed.

“Are you still coming down here this weekend?” She’d been promising to visit my sister’s new home and take me out for my birthday. Just the thought of Kristian moving down to Cincinnati from Detroit had really burned my biscuits. She just couldn’t let me shine all by myself.

“Come down there? For what?” she asked flatly like she didn’t remember.

“Mama, you promised!” I started to whine but was cut off by her giggle.

“Girl, I know, and I’ll be there even though that little wench I created couldn’t care less if I showed up,” Porscha groaned.

“Well, you’re not just coming for her. You’re coming for me, and I have this fly spot we could go to get massages, a mud bath, and the whole nine,” I said, using my red loofah to lather up my body with the wonderful-smelling suds.

“Are you paying?” she asked, this time a little perkier.

“Damn, Ma, it’s my birthday!” I said, not believing her blatant disrespect of protocol.

“Well, you better call somebody and see what they got on it. I ain’t paying nothing!” she replied. “Don’t Dom have a job? He should be able to treat us, right?”

“You are a trip. I hope you know that.” I rested my head on the pink bath pillow.

“Whatever.” She smacked her lips just as my line clicked yet again.

“Let me answer this, and I’ll hit you back, ’kay?” I said and clicked over before she had a chance to reply. “Hello.” I knew it was another birthday wish, so I didn’t check the caller ID.

“Hey, little sis. Happy b-day,” Kristian said in a dry tone.

“Hey, thanks,” I replied just as dryly. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my sister, but she worked my nerves sometimes. She always went against the grain on everything and thought she was the shit because her husband was a lawyer.

Together they’d moved down here from Detroit about three months ago. Her husband had just started his own practice downtown, and she’d used her business degree to open a secondhand store. I frowned at the thought of her consignment shop. Who in the hell would pay to wear other people’s clothes?

Kristian was the total opposite of Mom and me, which irritated the crap out of me. Not to mention how she annoyed me by constantly bragging about married life and motherhood. I kept telling her that I wasn’t jealous one bit because I was married too—to the money, that was! I also told her that my future husband and I didn’t want any of them dirty little crumb snatchers running around no time soon. Honestly, I lied a bit on that one, because Dom couldn’t wait to have children, but he missed the memo that I wasn’t the one. I didn’t have time to change diapers, wipe runny noses, and clean up vomit. I was too fabulous for a diaper bag, and come hell or high water, Jesus Himself couldn’t make me trade in stilettos for flat shoes.

Kristian always called me a high-maintenance gold digger, and I always called her a low-budget hater. She was just as pretty as Mom and I were, but she hid her beauty. She wore her hair in one long French braid, hid her face behind a pair of glasses from the nineties, and wore clothes two sizes too big. I didn’t know how her husband Deon even found her attractive, but to each his own, I guessed.

“We should maybe do lunch or something today,” Kristian chimed in after a moment of awkward silence.

“Yeah, we should. You pick the place, and I’ll be there,” I said and closed my eyes to enjoy my bath.

“Let’s meet at Applebee’s at noon, my treat.”

“Make it two. I have a nail appointment.” She and boring-ass Applebee’s could wait until I was finished.

“You’re the b-day girl, so two it is,” she gave in.

“For sure. See you later!” I said and hung up, dropping the phone to the side of the tub. I lay there for a minute and ran down my plans again in my head.

Out of nowhere I became horny, so I slid my fingers down into the warm water and reached for my vagina. I was thinking about Dom as I rubbed my clit in circular motions, which caused me to twitch. My nipples were hard and erect. I could tell my vagina was getting wet, and not because I was submerged in water, if you know what I mean! Although I was home alone, I still refused to let out a moan because I was a little embarrassed to let the sound escape my mouth and flow freely into the universe. I licked my lips and thought of me and Dominic tonight as I finally had a mediocre orgasm.

Boom, boom! I heard, snapping me out of my zone. I jumped up from the tub and wrapped the pink bath towel I had sitting on the side of the tub around me. I walked to the door with attitude in every step.

“Who is it?” I yelled before I got all the way to the door. At first, I thought it was Dom coming back to surprise me again but thought against it when he didn’t use his key.

“It’s me, Tone,” I heard as I snatched the door open to see Dominic’s frat brother and our next-door neighbor Antonio standing on the porch.

Antonio had lived next door to us ever since we moved in two years ago. He had been bugging me since our college days. He used to have a big crush on me and never stopped trying to be with me until Dom snatched me up and shut it down. Even now Tone flirted jokingly, but from time to time I thought he was a little jealous. Dominic laughed it off because he knew his boy wasn’t my type. For one, his ass was a cop. Second, he was broke. Third, he was broke, and finally, he wasn’t all that attractive. Although he was a pain in the ass, he was also a good friend to have.

“Damn, girl, I ain’t know you was gon’ come to the door naked and shit,” he said, grabbing his dick, and I gagged. Ton. . .