Sister Girls

by Angel M. Hunter

Genres: General Fiction

Synopsis

Jealousy, envy, and pure hateration. Maybe you've been there? Maybe you haven't? Maybe you know someone that's going through it? Whatever the case you know when things get rough you can always count on your Sister Girls to be there for you.

Take a look inside the lives and relationships of Crystal, Susan, Jewell, and Elsie. Their lives are laced with love, addiction, lust, and loyalty. Crystal must deal with a past she can’t escape. Susan is in denial and needs to get real. Jewell is looking for a “good man.” And Elsie is confused about her sexuality. When their issues explode, each woman is forced to confront her life and herself. Their friendship is put to the test numerous times and in ways that they never imagined. Together these four sisters take friendship to a new level that puts the realities of life’s trials and tribulations into their proper perspective.

Produced by Buck 50 Productions

Release date: April 1, 2015

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Dressed in red leather pants and a leather vest that fit like a second skin, with red stiletto boots, hair pulled back so far that it tugged on her eyes, Crystal paced back and forth ten steps. Every now and then she’d look to her left, smirk and turn to her right, where in the center of a small round table sat a gun. Filled with rage, anger, hurt and betrayal, the only thing on Crystal’s mind was revenge.

The room was pitch black, except for the flickering flames from the candles placed sporadically in the room. Finally making a decision, Crystal went toward the gun. She appeared to be in a trance. Picking up the gun gently as if it were a newborn, she ran her fingers up and down the metal, caressing it. She looked to her left and aimed.

There sat a man shaking, with sweat pouring down his face. His hands were tied behind his back and his feet tied to each leg on the chair that barely contained him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t do this,” he pleaded with tears running down his face.

Instead of responding, Crystal smiled and pulled the trigger.

Billie’s bark startled Crystal out of her nightmare. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was not quite 5:00 a.m. She also noticed the empty half-pint bottle of vodka.

“Ugh,” she moaned and drew the blankets over her head. “Just one more hour and a Tylenol, that’s all I need.”

Billie barked again.

“All right, all right.” She threw the blanket off, stumbled out of the bed, lifted her arms in the air and stretched. She must have tossed and turned all night. Crystal could hear the cracks and creaks of her cramped muscles and tired bones.

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at Billie. “What do you want from me?”

Billie peered up at her with his pleading eyes and Crystal frowned. “Don’t give me that look. I’m still tired.”

Dragging her body across the newly installed plush cream-colored carpet and down the stairs, Billie lapping behind her, she went into the kitchen, pulled the dog food from under the sink and poured some into his dish. Looking at Billie, she told him, “When you’re done, let yourself out.”

She headed back up the steps and went into the bathroom. Hopping across the cold tiled floor to the little rug in front of the sink, she looked in the mirror and was not happy with what she saw staring back. Not only were her eyes bloodshot, she could have sworn she saw more lines around them today than yesterday. She leaned forward and took a closer look. Now she was positive that she did.

Crystal shook her head in the mirror. She had fallen asleep in her clothes once again. She pulled her shirt over her head, looked at her size 34B breasts and wished they were a C cup. She unzipped her jeans and pulled them down along with her panties. Standing back, she examined her size 6 figure. The pounds were just falling off.

Crystal didn’t know whether to be pleased or concerned. Not even a month ago she was an athletic size eight. She wasn’t trying to lose any weight. Crystal used to work out a minimum of four times a week. It recently trickled down to once a week and that was from guilt.

She ran her non-manicured hands through her dreadlocks, which fell between the center of her back and her waist. She pulled them on top of her head and tied them into a knot. Turning her back to the mirror, she reached into her shower and turned it on as hot as she could stand it then climbed in.

“Mmmm.” Crystal stood directly under the shower head. The steam from the water relaxed her. She closed her eyes, threw her head back and dropped her shoulders, letting the heat and pressure take her away. She stood like that until she felt the water turning cool. Opening her eyes, she reached for her loofah and vanilla scented bath gel, trying to scrub away her feelings of doubt, fear and anxiety.

People looking from the outside in would have no idea that she felt this way. Her life seemed perfect. She was thirty-one, single, had no kids, attractive, in shape, a partner in a law firm, owned a home in the suburbs and drove a white Lexus SUV. She was the shit. But the material things that meant everything to most people meant nothing to Crystal. Owning a home, driving an expensive vehicle, all those things that were admired by others didn’t make her feel any more complete. Just as quick as she bought them, she knew she could lose them. She yearned for something solid, maybe even someone solid. Something was missing in her life, and it was getting harder every day to maintain the front. Shit, she wasn’t as strong as she appeared to be. It was all an act. She had to convince herself with the sips of liquor she took day in and day out that she’d get through another day.

She wanted to pull herself out of the mental rut she was in.

How? How can I do that? she asked herself. Maybe I need a change—a change of scenery, and a change of pace. A change within.

Making a change was easier said than done. To Crystal, her life was lacking. Each day unfolded like the one before it, and she was growing tired of doing the same thing day in and day out—work, home, work, home. She was tired of seeing the same faces, hearing the same voices. Most of all, she was tired of being lonely.

She thought of all these things as she chose her outfit; a long, black fitted sweater dress and duster with boots. Crystal took one last look in the mirror and sighed. Opening her Louis Vuitton purse, she pulled out her M•A•C lipgloss and applied it. Smacking her lips together, she pulled out her slightly tinted prescription glasses and placed them over her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s better.” She was ready to start her day.

She walked down the stairs and called for Billie. When he didn’t come barking, she wondered where he was. Before she could open the front door and yell out for him, he came charging in.

Crystal bent down and patted his head. “That’s my baby. Mommy’s sorry for snapping at you this morning.”

Billie looked up at her like he understood.

Crystal grabbed her briefcase, which was near the front door and stepped out into a slight breeze. Breathing in the scent of fall, she looked down the street at the kids on the sidewalk. It was the first day of school and there was an energy in the air. Damn, she remembered those days when she didn’t have a care in the world. When she had no bills, nor did she have a business to run.

Gem, Carlson and Shaw, Attorneys at Law, was located in the downtown area of Riverhead, New Jersey. Located on the fifth floor of one the few high rises in the area, the business where Crystal was partner took up the entire floor. It included a reception area, a walk-in closet used for storage and four suites. Each attorney occupied one suite for use as an office The fourth suite was for meetings. There were also two bathrooms, one with a shower and one without.

Crystal Gem had two partners, Susan Carlson and Elsie Shaw. They were quite a team. Crystal was the business minded one, making sure every detail was in place, testimonies were tight and paperwork was up to date. Susan was the take no prisoners, tell it like it is, no holds barred attorney, and Elsie was the laid back one, the hand holder.

Crystal and Susan coming together was a godsend. They went to the same high school, where they befriended one another. They lost contact once they went to college, then ran into one another at a class reunion neither wanted to attend. After talking for over an hour, they discovered they were in the same profession, both working for firms where not only did they feel unappreciated but partnership wasn’t likely.

“Have you thought about going out on your own?” Crystal asked Susan.

“Of course, but I don’t think it’s something I could do alone.”

“Well, why don’t we get together and see what we can come up with, see if our work ethics are the same and perhaps . . .”

She didn’t have to finish her thought. Susan was thinking the same thing. After talking that night and meeting several times over the next few months, they decided to start their own firm, but not before contacting a headhunter to find a third person. They knew they wanted an all-female firm. Finding the right woman was the mission at hand. They met with several and grew discouraged because either the interviewees came in with chips on their shoulders, expecting to take over, had foul personalities or didn’t have the funds to put up for partnership. Everyone was required to invest the same amount of money and be willing to comfortably take a loss during the first couple of years if that’s what became necessary. Finding such a person turned out to be quite the challenge.

Right when they were considering giving up on their search, in walked Elsie. They were taken with her laid-back attitude and her confidence, and the fact that she was attractive and didn’t play it up also helped. Most importantly she had the money to put up. After meeting with her a couple of times, they drew up contracts and became partners.

Gem, Carlson and Shaw was now in its third year of business and semi-successful, making enough profit to cover overhead and have a little extra left over.

Pulling into the parking lot, Crystal reached in the back of her car for her briefcase then headed for the elevator. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lange Houston heading her way. His firm was two floors up from hers. Lange was a criminal attorney, and she’d seen him in action quite a few times. Each case he’d won. She was in awe, not only with his looks—tall, at least 6 feet 4 inches tall with a creamy caramel complexion, wide shoulders and broad back—but also with his charisma. He displayed a confident attitude that bordered on arrogance.

Crystal wanted this man, but knew he was off limits. He was married—happily, she believed. Each time she ran into him and his wife, they were holding hands. Was it real or was it a front? She wondered. If the opportunity ever arose, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

Quickening her pace, she made it to the elevator and tried to press the button to close the door. She didn’t want to be alone with him.

Lange called out, “Hold the elevator!”

She looked up and saw him jogging toward her. In her mind he was naked, muscles bulging.

“Hey, lady,” he said once he stepped on.

Lady. He always called her that. One day she would ask him why. For now all she could manage to mutter was “Hi.”

She wondered what it was about him that made her freeze up. Stupid question. Heck, most of her sexual fantasies starred him, and if he was as good in the flesh as he was in her dreams . . . Have mercy!

“It is a little chilly in here,” he commented, breaking into her thoughts.

“Chilly? What makes you say that?”

“You’re standing with your arms crossed like you’re cold.”

Looking down, Crystal uncrossed her arms and laughed. “Isn’t that something?”

The elevator reached her floor and she stepped off. Lange watched her every move.

Unbeknownst to Crystal, she was considered to be one of the most attractive women in the building. A few months earlier, Lange overheard some of the guys in the cafeteria discussing a bet. Who would get Crystal first? The men believed she was untouchable, off limits, and they were determined to break her down. Lange wanted to tell them they didn’t stand a chance, but knew he had no say, being a married man and all.

Lange had been noticing Crystal a lot recently. He’d watched her in court and admired her from afar, more so than he wanted to admit. Maybe the fact that his marriage was falling apart contributed to it, maybe he was tired of his wife not being in the mood. Whatever it was, he knew it was unhealthy.

The elevator closed as he licked his lips.

As Crystal walked past the secretary’s desk, she said, “Jewell, if I get any phone calls, take messages. I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

Trying to hide the gum that was in her mouth, Jewell mumbled, “Okay.”

When Crystal stepped into her domain, she opened her blinds. Her office had a view of the streets, and when her day got hectic, she watched the people below and wondered what they were doing, where they were going, and if they needed an attorney.

Her office, like her home, was her haven. She spent a lot of time decorating it, personally picking the mahogany desk, the mahogany chair that fit every curve on her thinning body, and the hardwood floors that she spent too much money on.

She relaxed into her chair and thought about last night’s dream, the same one she’d been having for over a week. What did it mean? It couldn’t only be about revenge. There had to be more to it, but what? There were definitely a lot of people she wanted to get even with, that she would like to seek revenge on. There was one in particular, but that incident happened a long time ago. She thought she was past it. Obviously she wasn’t.

Before Crystal could get lost in her thoughts, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called out.

Jewell poked her head in. “There’s an emergency meeting in the conference room in half an hour.”

“Thanks.”

Jewell closed the door and went back to her desk.

Twisting her locks as she walked out of her office, Crystal wondered what this meeting was about. They seemed to be having a lot of meetings with Susan asking what she should do about this or that client and how she should handle this or that case. This wasn’t like Susan, who always had an answer for everything. Crystal had a feeling something was going on with her. Whatever it was, it was affecting her performance. She knew she would have to discuss this with her sooner or later. She just wasn’t ready for the wrath of Susan.

Sitting behind her massive desk dressed in an Anne Klein A-line dress that hugged every curve on her shapely 150-pound figure, Susan wondered, What am I doing and why am I doing this to myself? She knew she needed to stop, but it was taking over, controlling her. She couldn’t get through the day without at least one hit, and that one hit would turn into two, three and four. She knew cocaine was not only illegal, but her habit was affecting her decisions at work and in her personal life. She just couldn’t get enough of it. It made her feel powerful, in control, like she could conquer the world.

Balling and unballing her hands as she paced the floor, Susan tried to convince herself that she was better than this. I’m not an addict. I’m a skilled attorney who works hard to win cases. I pay my bills on time, I’m fairly attractive, wear designer clothes, and drive a white-on-white Mercedes SL 500. I’m not an addict. The self-talk wasn’t working. She found herself walking toward the door and checking to see that it was locked.

This is it, she told herself while heading back toward her desk. After this week, I’m giving it up. But she had told herself this same thing numerous times before. It didn’t matter how many times she said it. She still craved the power of the first hit.

She walked over to her desk and glanced at her “To Do,” “To File,” and “Almost Done” piles. Susan reached underneath the desk and pulled out a secret drawer. She reached inside, hands shaking, for the mirror she kept in there with lines of cocaine. It was only a little after nine and she was itching for a hit. She had stayed up all night working on a case and was operating on three hours of sleep. You wouldn’t be able to tell it from looking at her. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and not a hair was out of place. Her natural-looking makeup was applied to create the illusion of perfect skin, catlike eyes and soft lips. Too bad it was all an illusion.

She took a straw out of her purse as she thought about when this mess all started. It was in high school at the senior prom. Everyone was partying. Her cousin, Duvall, a known drug dealer, decided to throw an after prom party. He had the cash, the drugs and the know-how. Only a few were chosen to attend and she, being family and all, was on the top of the list.

Susan didn’t know what she was getting into. Well, maybe she did know, but she wanted to be part of the crowd, at least once. People considered her different in high school. She was always looking out for the underdog, the new kid or the one the other students rejected. Not one to be played with, people stayed away from her. She had a reputation as someone who would fight anyone, boy or girl, and win.

Her willingness to fight had to do with her upbringing. She grew up on the bad side of town, around the corner from the Ave., where the gangs, drugs and fights occurred on a daily basis. She had to watch her back on the regular. Jealousy ran rampant in her part of town. Although mocha complected at a time when light skin was in, she was shapely, and this got her a lot of unwanted attention.

She could still remember the year that she started developing. It was over summer vacation. She was going to the eighth grade. When school resumed, a group of boys, led by JB Jones, decided to harass her on a daily basis. It was getting to be irritating and uncomfortable. All week they were following her around, teasing her and pinching her on the ass. Susan made up her mind that on Friday she would get them, one way or the other. Finally the day came and the school bell rang. Now was her chance. She stood by the locker of the ringleader.

“Move,” JB barked.

“Move me.” Susan stood her ground. She was going to fight him to the end, and not fairly either. She had a pocketknife in her pocket.

Not knowing this, he pushed her out of the way. After catching her balance, Susan caught him off guard and started hitting and kicking him. He tried throwing a few punches, but her arms and legs were flying. By now, students had surrounded them. Everything happened so quickly. How or when she cut him, she couldn’t recall. The only thing she knew was that someone was pulling her off him, and from a distance she heard, “He’s bleeding, he’s bleeding.” One of the nerds she protected whispered in her ear. “Give me the knife so I can get rid of it.”

She passed it to him and he walked off.

By the time the principal arrived, the crowd had disbursed. She was questioned about the knife wound and denied having a weapon. None of the other students turned her in. They believed JB had gotten what he deserved. As a result, they were both suspended.

No one really messed with Susan after that. Most kids stayed away from her for fear that she would go off on them. Everyone except Brandon Lewis. He was impressed and curious about this fine girl with the nerve to go up against one of the school bullies.

During their senior year, he gathered the courage, waited three weeks, sat at her lunch table, made small conversation and invited her to the prom. Surprised, she told him yes. At the prom, Susan let her guard down a little and had a good time, until he made it clear he thought they were going to have sex. Brandon started feeling on her in an aggressive manner. When she told him to stop, he kept on, telling her, “This is what all the kids do after the prom.”

“Boy, I will break every bone in your hands if you don’t take them off me.”

From her tone, he knew she wasn’t playing. He put her out the car at a place called The Point and told her to walk her ass home.

Susan didn’t care, as long as she was safe. Home wasn’t where she was going. She went to the party Duvall was giving.

When she arrived, everyone appeared to be having a good time. The music was blasting, people were dancing, cigarettes and weed were being passed around. She looked around the room and spotted her cousin with his hussy of the week. He glanced up and called her over.

“What’s up cuz? Where’s your date?” He looked over her shoulder.

“I sent his ass home. He thought he was going to get some pussy tonight, but I told him it wasn’t happening here.”

Duvall laughed. “Still saving it for the one, huh?”

“Why not?” Susan got defensive.

Duvall threw his hands up. “I ain’t mad at ya. He. . .