Private Property

by La Jill Hunt

Genres: African American

Synopsis

Welcome to The Manors of Harrington Point; enter at your own risk. These mansions are home to the elite, the famous, the successful, and the eccentric. From the millionaire mega-pastor and his wife to the former child star turned porn star, this neighborhood is filled with old money, new money, and everything and everyone in between.

The tale of what goes on behind these gates is as entertaining and unforgettable as the neighbors themselves. In the way that only she can, La Jill Hunt takes us on a wild ride with the residents of The Manors, giving listeners a glimpse of all the glitz, glam, and outrageous drama of their seemingly perfect lives.

Release date: July 30, 2019

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Olivia Burke slipped her feet into the leather slippers lying in front of the sofa, and she stood up. She was tired, and as hard as she tried to stay awake until her husband got home, she wouldn’t be able to. The church Walter was ministering at tonight was only an hour away, and she thought he would have been home by now. It was already nearly two o’clock in the morning, but knowing her husband, he had probably gotten caught up talking to some of the other ministers after the revival service and hadn’t even left yet.

As the bishop and founder of one of the largest megachurches in the state, Walter Burke was always in high demand. From local pastors just starting out who needed encouragement, to business owners looking for an opportunity to get into his ear about the next “big thing,” people sought not only spiritual advice but investments in their ideas. Over the years, her husband had grown into a patient man, willing to listen when he could. He had evolved over the nearly thirty years that they had been married, and she loved him even more now than she had when they first met.

As she walked out of the den of their massive $4 million palace they called home, her eyes fell on a framed photo of the two of them. It was a bit faded, taken on one of their first dates, and they looked almost unfamiliar to her now. They had come a long way from the teenage couple who both grew up on the streets of Detroit in the late sixties. Walter was her first love, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Then again, she never would have imagined the life they were living now.

Her eyes fell on another picture of their twin boys, Malachi and Micah. The 2-year-old boys in the photo dressed in identical blue and white sailor suits were now twenty-eight, tall, and handsome. But their similarity in looks was the only thing her sons had in common. Micah now served as the youth pastor of Greater Works Assembly of Faith, founded by his father. Malachi was serving in another capacity, as an inmate in a low-security prison for the past eighteen months. Unlike her husband, who refused to go and visit their son, Olivia made it a point to go and visit at least once a month. Olivia remembered the last visit.

“You’re looking even more handsome than the last time I saw you, baby,” she told Malachi when she hugged him. She wasn’t lying. His six foot frame held his 200-pound athletic build well. Both of her boys had their father’s strong chin, seductive brown eyes, and thick eyebrows. From her, they inherited their smooth, caramel complexion, dimpled smiles, and unbelievably straight teeth without the help of braces.

“You say that every time you see me, Mama.” Malachi hugged her back. They walked around the yard of the facility.

Olivia always made it a point to keep their conversation light and casual, mostly about her duties in the church and the members Malachi was familiar with. She rarely brought up his father or brother, because she knew there was a chance it would cut her visit short. However, knowing her son’s release date was approaching, she decided to test the waters.

“Well, I am biased, but it is the truth. You know your mama doesn’t lie. Besides, I won’t have to say it much longer, because you only have a couple more weeks until I get to see you every day.” Olivia smiled.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here, but I don’t know about seeing you every day,” Malachi laughed.

“I am already getting your room ready. The new house is amazing, and I know you’re gonna love being home. We’re planning a dinner—”

“Mama,” Malachi interrupted her. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what, Malachi?” Olivia stopped walking and turned to face her son.

“Don’t make any plans for me when I get out of here. I’m good.” He shrugged.

“I know you’re good, and it’s gonna be good for you to be home.”

“That won’t be happening, Mama. Don’t play. You already know that.”

Olivia shook her head. “Why won’t it be happening? We are your family. I understand the relationship between you and your brother and father is strained right now—”

“You think?” Malachi laughed. “I don’t think the great Bishop Walter Burke would be too happy having his ex-convict of a son at the crib. You know that. And neither would his puppet, Micah.”

“Don’t be rude, Malachi. I raised you better than that,” Olivia said sternly. “Your father and brother love you very much, and so do I.”

“This has nothing to do with love, Mama. Come on, neither one of them has taken the time to visit or even write to me in the past year and a half.”

“You know both of them have been extremely busy. And your father has made sure you have been well provided for during this entire ordeal. Do not discredit that,” Olivia told him, trying not to become upset.

“Yeah, he made sure I had a good lawyer and money on the books every month. He should get the ‘Father of the Year’ award. Where are the nomination forms? Mama, please don’t stand here and try to defend him—”

“I’m not defending him.”

Malachi sucked in and quickly said, “Fine, maybe defend isn’t the right word. How about justify his actions or lack thereof while I’ve been in here? Or Micah’s. It’s okay. I am good, and I will be good once I get out of here.”

“Malachi, I want you home.”

“I love you, Mama, but that’s not my home. It’s yours.” Malachi shook his head.

“It’s our home. You have just as much right to be there as anyone else. As a matter of fact, we’ve made provisions for you to be there. The house is everything you could ever imagine and more. It’s our dream house, Malachi. Remember when you were little and you would draw pictures of mansions and hang them on the refrigerator and say, ‘Mama, one day we are gonna live in a house like this!’ Well, that’s where we live.” Olivia laughed. “I just knew you were gonna end up being an architect.”

“Too bad I ended up being a dope dealer, huh? I guess it’s true what they say.” Malachi sat on top of a nearby picnic table. “The apple don’t fall—”

“You’re not a dope dealer, Malachi! You are more than that. You are a child of the highest God. You are smart and talented, and you’re my son, so act like it. This situation you’re in now is just temporary, and you will come out of it just fine.”

“I hear ya, Mama.”

Olivia walked over, smoothed down her skirt, and sat beside her son, taking his hands into hers. “Malachi, you are so much like your father, it’s unreal.”

“I am nothing like him,” Malachi snapped.

“You are. Both of you are as stubborn as mules. Look at me. Promise me you will at least think about coming home, please.”

She stared into her son’s eyes and smiled, hoping she could will him into saying yes. She thought about telling him about his brother’s upcoming nuptials but decided to save that news for later.

“I will think about it, Mama,” Malachi relented.

Olivia leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Thank you. I know you’re gonna love it. It sits on the water, and it even has a dock and a lift for two boats.”

“I said I’d think about it. I didn’t say yes.”

Since that visit, Olivia had been praying every night that her son would come home. She needed for her family to heal, and in her heart, she believed Micah’s wedding and Malachi’s homecoming would be just the events to bring her broken family back together. It had been too long, and now it was time for them to let go of the past. Her husband and her boys were all she had, and she was going to do everything within her power to pick up the pieces left after they’d been torn apart.

The house phone rang, and Olivia put the picture that she was staring at down on the table. She walked over and answered, “Hello.”

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m almost home,” Walter told her. “I know you’re up wondering what’s taking so long.”

“I’m not wondering, Walter,” Olivia told him. “I know you were stuck after the service, running your mouth.”

“I wasn’t running my mouth, woman. I was listening to other folks run theirs.” Walter laughed. “So go ahead and get upstairs and in bed. I’ll be home shortly to tuck you in.”

Olivia tried not to blush, but she couldn’t help it. After all these years, her husband still had that effect on her. “Walter, where is Frank? I hope he can’t hear you talking like that.”

Frank was her husband’s right-hand man and security who had been by his side since he started “Greater Works,” as they’d called it over twenty years ago in a storefront.

“Frank is right here beside me driving, and I don’t care if he hears what I’m saying. You’re my wife, and if he knows like I know, he needs to be calling his own wife and telling her he’s about to come home and handle his business too,” Walter teased. “Now, go get ready for the bishop. I’ll be home soon. As a matter of fact, don’t get in the bed. We still got a couple of rooms in that big, new house of ours to christen, remember?”

“Walter! Stop it!” Olivia giggled. When they toured the 10,000-square-foot architectural masterpiece they now lived in, Olivia immediately fell in love. Walter, however, complained that it was too much house for just the two of them. Olivia pointed out that Micah could live in the adjacent two-bedroom apartment and be closer to his father to work on their ministry together, and then she threw in the promise that they would “christen” any of the rooms that he saw fit. That was all that needed to be said. Within days they’d decided the house would be theirs, and as soon as the sale had gone through and they’d been given the keys, her husband had smiled as she started making good on her promise before they had even brought in a piece of furniture.

“I’ll see you in a few, O’la. Love you.” Walter called her by the nickname he gave her when they first met.

“Love you too,” Olivia said and hung up.

A little while later, she was about to head up the spiral staircase when she peeked out of the front window. A flash of light in the distance caught her eye through the window. At first she thought maybe it was a falling star, or maybe even fireworks.

She looked closer and then realized exactly what it was.

“Damn.” That was the only thing Riley Rodriguez could think to say as she stared at the large plasma television in her bedroom. She reached over to the nearby nightstand and picked up a lit joint, taking a long drag as she watched herself on the screen, naked and having sex with a man she barely knew. From what she had been told, he was an up-and-coming rapper named Touché.

Riley stared at herself. Her eyes were closed, and she was moaning in ecstasy as Touché pushed her back, opened her legs, and began pleasing her with his tongue. Her fingers gripped the headboard of the king-sized bed, and from the look on her face and the sounds of her moans, Riley was enjoying herself. But for the life of her, as she watched it play out on the screen, Riley couldn’t remember any of it. Nothing was familiar: not the bed they were in, not where they were, nor when the entire escapade took place. One thing she was grateful for was that her face was beat to the gods. Her weave was tight as hell without a hair out of place, and her manicure and pedicure were perfect. Not to mention that whenever this had gone down, it was during a time when she had to have been hitting the gym, because her body was contoured in all the right places and there was not an ounce of fat to be seen. It was a clear picture taken at a great angle, and now the whole world was about to see it whether she liked it or not. The paperwork had been signed, the distribution deal made, and instead of being the star of the most popular family television show from the eighties, she was about to be another kind of star—a porn star.

Riley had been in the spotlight since birth. She starred in her first television commercial when she was barely 3 months old, and by the time she was the age of 6, she had one of the most recognizable faces in the U.S. and some foreign countries. Whether it was a commercial for cereal, toy stores, fast-food restaurants, or clothing stores, if they needed a cute face, then Riley was it.

At the age of 8, she starred in Family Brides, one of the highest-rated television sitcoms, until she was in her early teens and the show ended. Afterward, she was the lead in a teen dance movie that became an instant hit. Against the wishes of her parents and agent at the time, she played the love interest in a hard-core rap video that was so risqué it was shown on the music channels only after prime time. Riley thought it would have led to more adult roles, but instead, the offers stopped altogether. She didn’t let it bother her, though. She felt that it was a sign from God that after working nonstop for years, she needed a break. That break included rest, relaxation, lots of booze, and narcotics: prescription and illegal. The past five years had been a blur, much like her memory of the pending sex tape she was watching.

Riley took another drag from the joint and turned the TV off. She had seen enough. Reaching over into her nightstand, she took out a book titled For the Love of Thomas. It was about a woman named Sally Hemmings, the mistress of Thomas Jefferson. Riley came across the book during her last stint in rehab. Another female resident was engrossed in it nightly, and Riley was curious about what had her attention so much that the girl wasn’t even interested in sneaking out and getting high with the rest of the celebrity residents. She gave the book to Riley, and from the moment Riley began reading the woman’s story, she was hooked. She had read it three times since being released from rehab. It was as if she was obsessed with Sally Hemmings’s story. She even dreamed about the strong woman and all she endured. It was as if she knew her, like they met in a former life.

“Riley, are you up?”

Riley quickly put the joint out and fanned the air. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of spray from Victoria’s Secret, quickly trying to cover the scent. Riley held her breath and closed her eyes, hoping the person on the other side of the door would assume she was asleep and go away.

“Riley, I know you’re still up. I smell the weed. I’m coming in.” The bedroom door opened, and in walked Eden, Riley’s younger sister, carrying a basket of folded clothes and a pile of mail. The two women looked similar, but whereas Riley’s body was the epitome of a Victoria’s Secret model, Eden was not so lucky. Although she was just as beautiful as her older sister, the only modeling she could do would be for Lane Bryant.

“My bad. I didn’t hear you,” Riley lied.

“Sure you didn’t,” Eden said, putting the basket on the dresser and tossing the pile of envelopes at her. “Here’s your mail. I’ve already gone through it, and I’ve also talked with Chet and made sure everything is paid for the month.” As usual, it seemed as if the roles had reversed and Eden was the older sister, not Riley. For the past few months, she had stepped in and taken over as Riley’s personal assistant, manager, agent, chef, housekeeper, and anything else Riley needed. Riley had gone through many employees and couldn’t keep anyone around other than Chet, her accountant, and Jeff, her part-time security guard.

“What about my credit cards? Did he reactivate them?” Riley asked. Chet had canceled her cards and closed her checking account, claiming that her reckless behavior was about to cost her everything she had worked for. He was so controlling, but one thing she could say was that he was brilliant when it came to her money. Even after the craziness of the last five years, Riley was able to purchase the sprawling mansion she wanted in Harrington Point, and still have a Porsche, a BMW SUV, and an Audi convertible. In addition, she had a nice chunk of change in the bank, investments, and a monthly stipend, albeit minuscule and barely enough to live on in her opinion.

“You don’t need those credit cards. You have your monthly allowance if you want to shop,” Eden told her.

“That’s barely enough to eat,” Riley complained, lying back on the huge pillows at the head of her bed.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much on weed, it would be enough to shop.” Eden shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t judge me. I have a lot going on right now,” Riley said. “I’m stressed about my new porn career.”

“Stop it.” Eden shook her head. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I really don’t think it’s gonna be that bad. I mean, look.” Riley picked up the remote and clicked the television back on. Immediately sounds of her and Touché moaning filled the room. “I look fucking amazing. Or should that be I look amazing fucking?”

Eden snatched the remote from her and clicked the screen off. “Riley, you don’t have to play hard-core with me. I know you didn’t want this to happen. It’s kind of an unfair situation.” Eden sighed.

“Hey, it happened, and it’s my fault. I’m not blaming anyone.” The last thing Riley needed was anyone feeling sorry for her. Her pride was one of the few things she had left these days.

“Have you talked to this Touché guy? What does he have to say about it?”

“I don’t even know that motherfucker!” Riley reached into the drawer and took the blunt back out, along with a lighter.

“What do you mean you don’t know him?” Eden said, taking the items out of her sister’s hand.

“Eden, this is gonna sound crazy, but I don’t remember even meeting that dude or anything that happened on that screen.” Riley frowned.

“That is crazy and dangerous, Riley.” Eden shook her head and gave Riley a sympathetic look.

“One of the downfalls of getting high, li’l sis. Listen to me when I tell you this: just say no . . . to drugs and sex. It leads to starring in porn movies with random strangers. Now give me my stuff back.” Riley held her hand out.

Eden ignored her and reached for the book instead. “Hey, I read this. This is a great book.”

“I know. I read it too, three times. This is my fourth,” Riley mumbled.

“Really?” Eden looked surprised.

“Yes, heffa, I do read. Well, sometimes when I’m not busy filming pornography.” Riley laughed.

“Stop joking about it, Riley. It’s not funny, and I know you’re pissed. I don’t blame you. It’s okay to admit that,” Eden insisted.

“It’s cool.”

Turning back to. . .