The Queen's Diamond

by Niyah Moore

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Desirae Fernandez is kicked out of her parents’ home in Little Havana on her eighteenth birthday. She
has only one plan, and that is to be grown.
When her best friend gives her the opportunity to make fast money at Miami’s Queen of Diamonds gentlemen’s
club, Desirae dives head first into the business and meets a handsome, hoodrich, up and coming rap label CEO
by the name of Luxury. Their attraction to one another is undeniable, but he plays her cool until she turns 21.
Messing around in the booth at his brother’s studio, she freestyles as a joke. Everything changes once he
discovers she can actually rap. With the Monnahan Boyz’s ghostwriting abilities and vision, Luxury transforms her
into a superstar.
Rising to the top of the charts, Desirae becomes famous seemingly overnight. Cars, jewelry, clothes, money—
she lives for it all, but a new face in town stirs things up. Her best friend is brutally murdered, and everything
Luxury pours into Desirae points her straight down a dark path

Release date: September 29, 2020

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Bitch, you ain’t nothin’ without me. I made you!”

Luxury’s words were clear, vivid, and cruel. They hurt as they dug into me like a finger twisting into a bullet’s entrance wound. I would’ve liked it better if he had taken a knife to my skin than spoken those punishing words. He knew everything there was to know about me, every perceived flaw, every vulnerability, so I didn’t understand why he was talking crazy. At first, I thought he was just talking like that because he was drunk and high. He usually knew exactly where to apply pressure and how to get underneath my skin, but never to a point where I felt worthless. I was such a confident woman, but now he had me second-guessing myself.

Am I nothing without him?

To think that his pressure made me into a diamond, but now he was trying to crush me. How could he annihilate a diamond like me? Diamonds were supposed to be the hardest natural material in the world. I learned quickly that hardest didn’t mean indestructible.

“You hear me, bitch?” he said. “You ain’t shit without me!”

Luxury’s words were ringing in my ears like a gong, reminding me of my forgotten pain, my worst memories, and of the times I had felt most abandoned. Here I was, at the height of my professional music career, shining, without a care in the world. Overnight, I had become a star with his guidance, but he hadn’t made me. He wanted me strapped at his side like his 9 mm pistol so it would be hard for me to leave. He thought those words would remind me of everything he had ever done for me.

With his hands gripping the collar of my black mink coat, he dared me to fight. He wanted a boxing match, and part of him was craving it, but I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to move on with my life, because this Luxury and Desire thing wasn’t working anymore.

“Luxury,” I breathed out, and my breath turned into fog. That was how cold it was that winter night. We were standing right in front of his Hellcat in the parking lot of Square Eights Club. Tears welled up in my eyes as I pleaded, “Please, let me go.”

He smirked at the way I pleaded. My pleading only made him feel more powerful.

“Hell nah, bitch! I ain’t lettin’ you go. Get yo’ ass in the car right now. You out here playin’.” He ground his teeth together as his jaw moved from left to right. The E-pills he had popped earlier in the night made his jaw do that.

How we had got to this point ran through my mind like a speeding bullet. Before we’d left Square Eights, a nightclub where I had a paid appearance, the night had been Gucci. We had smoked a few blunts and had had a few drinks, but after a couple of pills, he had started feeling himself a little too hard. I’d been ready to go by then, because he was in some bitch’s face like I wasn’t standing there, trying his hardest to make me jealous. His level of disrespect had risen to a new height. He had never tried no shit like this before, because he already knew how I felt about other bitches.

When I’d bolted out of the club, he’d been on my heels.

That was when I’d stood in front of his car and screamed to the heavens, “I’m done. I can’t take this shit anymore, disrespectful-ass nigga. I’m gone.”

Blame the liquor for giving me the courage to finally let off what I had been thinking, but now that my truth had spilled out of my mouth, I couldn’t take it back.

I had turned to walk away to hit up Uber to pick me up, but he’d snatched my ass up so quick, my cell phone had hit the concrete. I wasn’t used to Luxury lunging at me, tearing me apart with no holds barred, as if I had crossed some invisible line in the sand, so I hadn’t understood what was going on at that moment. There were too many witnesses outside, so I hadn’t thought he would be stupid enough to put his hands on me. It was clear to me now that either he didn’t give two fucks or he was too high to pay attention to his surroundings.

Run, a voice screamed inside my head. I needed to break free and run like hell to anyone for help, but he had a tight grip on my neck. Out the corner of my eye, I spotted a group of drunk women heading to jump into a Lyft parked right in front of the club. No sooner did I think I could scream to get their attention than he backhanded me. The smack was as loud as a clap, and it stung my face. I was no longer intoxicated; it felt like he had slapped me sober.

“Bitch, you think I’m playin’ with you?” he shouted. “Get yo’ ass in the car! You ain’t goin’ no fuckin’ where. Don’t make me say it again.”

I could feel a small cut where his pinkie ring had caught me right below my right eye. I staggered backward, clutching my face. He grabbed my neck again to make sure I wouldn’t run. I felt more pain as the second blow came for my abdomen. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout my body. My stomach ached, and my legs began to weaken. His hard fist hit me in the head again, and this time, I fell from the force of it on the ground. His fist kept cracking me in my face, snapping it back with the strength of his blows. My head reeled as it slammed into the concrete.

“I poured everything into you! Now you wanna up and leave? Mothafucka, it don’t work like that,” he yelled.

He kicked me while I tried to curl up into a ball to protect myself. I didn’t remember how many times he kicked. I just remembered thinking, Why is Luxury trying to kill me?

Tyga’s “Rack City” sounded as my alarm on my HTC One X to wake me up.

It was 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday, and I had to get up to go to Saturday school. I still couldn’t believe they had ordered me to attend school on a Saturday as a way of punishing for ditching too many classes that week. This shit was stupid, not to mention it was my eighteenth birthday. If they thought I would spend my birthday handwriting dumb essays, they were gonna have to think of another form of punishment.

Slowly and reluctantly, I pulled back my purple sheet and uncovered my face. I blinked, closed my eyes, and blinked again. Streaks of sunlight coming through my window blinded me as I opened my eyes. Kicking the covers on the floor, I sat up, dragged my feet off the bed, and rubbed my eyes with my knuckles. I stretched, reaching toward the ceiling, and yawned.

I turned off my alarm on my phone and looked around my junky room. I needed to fold the clean clothes that were spilling out of the basket and put the dirty clothes that were piled high in the corner in the washer, but I didn’t feel like it. Laundry was always the last thing on my mind and one of the many things my mom complained about. Today was my birthday.

“Happy Birthday to me,” I said to myself dryly.

I wasn’t excited about my birthday, because we were in the midst of hurricane season. It was tax-free storm-supply week at the stores, so that was what my parents were focused on. I checked the weather report, and it was devoid of hurricanes, so I didn’t want to waste a beautiful day in Saturday school.

“Nope, I ain’t going,” I mumbled to myself.

We had only three more weeks of school anyway. I wasn’t about to waste my time.

My bedroom door swung open, making a whooshing sound, and my mom barged into my room like she was the Miami PD.

Why can’t she just knock for once? I thought as I scowled at her. While scratching my messy head, I realized I could’ve been naked or something. But she wouldn’t care even if I was naked. I didn’t pay any bills, so I had no say about anything around here. This was her door and her room. I couldn’t wait to move out. I didn’t know why she was on me so tight all the time. She acted like she paid bills. She didn’t pay for shit, either. She didn’t even have a job.

My mom had been born and raised in South Florida and had lived in different parts of the region. She looked like she could be my older sister. Her long, curly black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she had a scarf tied around her head like Tupac. There was always a deep scowl on her face, her nose was usually turned up, and her big eyes always looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Curse words flew out of her mouth every single time she addressed me. I didn’t get what I did that made her hate me so much.

I stared at her through half-opened eyes, waiting for her to say something.

“Get up and get yo’ raggedy ass ready for detention,” she barked.

I can’t get a “Happy Birthday”? Why I gotta be raggedy?

“I ain’t gotta go,” I answered, rolling my eyes.

“What you mean, you ain’t gotta go? You ain’t got no choice. Get yo’ ass up right now.”

“But, Ma, it’s my birthday,” I whined.

“I don’t give a shit if it was Jesus’s birthday. Hell, I know what today is. You the dummy that keeps fuckin’ up in school. It’s bad enough I get a call from the principal yesterday, talkin’ about you missing some credits. Did you know you ain’t graduating? Huh? You know that, li’l bitch?”

I wasn’t shocked that she called me out of my name. But I didn’t know I wasn’t graduating. I knew I had a couple of Ds and Fs, but damn. My heart sank into my stomach as I smacked my lips. “What? Man . . .”

“Man, my ass, Desirae. You and this li’l funky, half-ass attitude is really starting to work my last mothafuckin’ nerve. You better start actin’ right. I mean that shit. I ain’t raising no dummies.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled as I swiveled out of bed. Standing on my feet, I glared at my mother. She was always nagging and tripping. “You be on that bullshit,” I mumbled.

“What you just say?” She stepped farther into my room, with her hands on her wide hips. “Speak up.”

“Nothin’, Ma. Dang.”

“Oh, I heard you. You think you are grown now? You turn eighteen, and now I be on that bullshit?”

Feeling my insides boil, I screamed, “I am grown.”

“Well, get yo’ grown ass on up outta here, then. See ya. Wouldn’t want to be ya.”

Storming out of my bedroom, my footsteps thudding loudly against the wood floor, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Papi.”

She was behind me, walking fast. “Tell your papi. He ’bout sick of ya fast ass, too, but he acts like he too scared to tell ya that. Out here fuckin’ on these nasty-ass boys all the time. You think we didn’t know that, huh? He out in the backyard with your brother. At least Javier knows how to help around here, unlike your lazy ass.”

“Jav is a grown-ass man. He needs to start paying some rent, don’t ya think? Why you ain’t sweatin’ him like you sweat me?” I slid open the sliding door in the dining room, and the crisp morning air chilled my body. I screamed, “Papi!”

“What?” he asked as he kept trimming the bushes.

My papi was born Diego Fernández and had been raised in Cuba. His family were poor coffee farmers, but they were hard workers. When his family moved to Miami’s Little Havana, his father started a coffee factory that sorted, washed, dried, milled, and bagged Cuban coffee beans. Grandpa became the coffee plug, with his connection to Cuba. That little coffee factory grew, and our family brand expanded all thanks to my papi. In South Florida, people thought Cuban coffee was superior. People loved drinking dark-roasted blends from small cups.

When Papi met my mom, it was love at first sight. He loved her black ass. He was seventeen years older than her, and Javier was already three years old. He wasn’t my papi’s son, but my papi took care of him like his own because Javier’s dad was in prison, serving a life sentence for trafficking cocaine from Colombia. Papi was a good man. He wanted his family out of the ghetto, and he gave us the world. Once business took off, he moved us to East Little Havana, where the houses were nicer, and we had grass to play in.

“Papi, Ma is tryin’ to kick me out.”

“Tell him why I’m kickin’ yo’ ass out,” she hollered, opening the sliding door wider so Papi could see both of us. “Diego, I’m tired of Desirae’s mouth. She’s in here talkin’ too much shit.”

“Don’t talk shit to your mamá,” he replied nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on those bushes.

He was used to me and Mama going back and forth, and most times he had my back, so I didn’t understand that he was so quick to take her side this time just to shut her up.

Javier’s fat ass brought the lawn mower from the garage and positioned it on the grass.

“Don’t you cut that on, Javier,” Mama ordered.

Javier wore a confused look. “Why? What did Des do now?”

“She lost her damn mind, that’s what. You need to have a talk with your sister before her hot ass ends up on the street, sellin’ pussy,” Mama said. “Her mouth tryin’a write a check her ass can’t cash.”

Javier didn’t respond as he put his headphones on. His iPod Nano was the only thing he cared about. He walked past us into the house. He never, ever had the big brother, little sister conversations with me. We didn’t get along like that, and we were only five years apart. How was he going to give me any kind of advice when he had never left home? He couldn’t even take care of himself at twenty-three years old, with his big, grown, overweight ass.

Papi stopped what he was doing and walked closer to me. “Are you getting ready for school?” he asked, finally looking at me through his thick glasses.

“No. I don’t have to go. It’s my birthday.”

“You think because it’s your birthday, you deserve a pass?”

“Yeah,” I replied, with my arms crossing my chest. “Who wants to spend their birthday at Saturday school? It’s not mandatory. Hell, I’m not graduating, anyway, so what’s the point?”

“Mierda,” he cursed in Spanish under his breath. “You know you won’t get a pass this time,” he said to me firmly. “Get dressed, and I’ll take you to school.”

My mouth nearly dropped open, because he never talked to me that way. “This ain’t fair.”

Mama blurted, “If her ass would’ve been where she was supposed to be, she wouldn’t have Saturday school in the first place.”

The sound of her voice was irritating my soul. “Ma—”

“Ma, what?” She was close to my face now. “Get yo’ ass in that shower and get ready for school. I’m not gonna tell yo’ triflin’ ass again. If I find out you didn’t go, you might as well not come back here.”

My whole body felt tight. It was like this pent-up aggression that had been building from her constantly nagging was now surfacing. She was picking at me, and I wasn’t feeling it. “Well, I’m not going to school, so I might as well leave now, then. I don’t need you all up in my face, either.” I stormed down the hall toward my room, making my bare feet slap against the hardwood floor. “I’m not about to spend my birthday at school. Y’all got me all the way twisted.”

“Ooh, Diego, I’m telling you, I’m gonna punch that li’l girl in the face!” Mama stormed.

“No, you shouldn’t have to do that, Paula. Let me talk to her.”

“Her mouth is so reckless. She’s not going to get away with this. Believe that, baby. Humph. I ain’t got time for this li’l girl.”

“Now, just calm down,” Papi said. “I said I’ll talk to her.”

“I can’t calm down. What’s talking going to do? I’m supposed to let her talk to me any kind of way?”

“I didn’t say that, Paula. She acts just like you. Where you think she gets it from?”

“Nah, Diego. She thinks she’s grown. She ain’t even graduating on time. Woke up eighteen years old, and now she thinks she can talk to me any kind of way. No, sir. I’m tellin’ you and everybody up in here, there is only one queen up in this bitch, and that’s me. She done crossed the line.”

I slammed my bedroom door to drown out their voices. I didn’t want to hear her mouth. Papi usually stuck up for me, even when I was wrong. Things were changing, and I figured the only way they would appreciate me was if I was gone. I threw off my extra-large sleeping shirt and put on my bra. I wasn’t going to Saturday school, and that was it. I was going to spend my day the way I wanted. Since my family wasn’t celebrating my day, I was going to do whatever I wanted.

When I was growing up, I used to imagine leaving home for college, with my mama in tears, begging me not to go, and my papi being proud that I was leaving the nest to go to college. I would pack my small car with boxes and my suitcases, and then I would watch them wave at me from my side mirror as I drove away. Now that was nothing but a dream. How could I think about college when I wasn’t graduating from high school on time? My GPA was barely a 2.0, and I hadn’t applied anywhere. I had already made up my mind that college wasn’t for me.

I packed fast, anger fueling me. I wrapped my toothbrush after I brushed my teeth. After I had my bags packed and all the money I had out of my piggy bank, which was about seventy-five dollars, I texted my best friend, Mina.

Me: Mama kicked me out. I got nowhere to go. The bitch is crazy.

Mina: You know you can stay here. You coming now?

Me: Yeah.

Mina had always said that I could stay at her apartment. She had graduated last year and had a job. I didn’t know where she was working these days, because she always quit after two weeks and then would be working somewhere else. The main thing was she was paying her own bills and didn’t have to worry about school anymore.

When I came out of my room, Papi was still working on the yard, and Javier was mowing the lawn. When I reached the living room, Mama was standing in the middle of the room, smoking a joint.

“You better leave all your keys right here on this table.” She pointed with her pinkie finger as she held on to a joint with her thumb and pointer finger. She hit the joint hard and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Car keys too.”

“Huh? It’s my car. Papi bought it.”

“He got the car ’cause he thought yo’ ass was graduating from high school. Since you so muthafuckin’ grown, get yo’ own shit, bitch.”

With tears burning the back of my eyes, I reluctantly tossed all my keys onto the coffee table. I didn’t look back as I walked ten blocks to Mina’s apartment complex.

I was sweaty and out of breath by the time I made it to Mina’s complex. The humidity itself had taken my breath away. She saw me coming from her balcony. Mina was wearing Daisy Duke shorts and a pink half shirt that showed off her belly button, and she was barefoot. Her lip gloss was popping as she sipped her bottle of Coke with a red straw.

Mina was my best friend, and she was so sweet. She was five feet, three inches of pure peanut butter – brown curves. Mina was a beautiful Afro-Cuban girl. She was born in Cuba and had come over as an illegal immigrant with her entire family. We had been best friends since I started high school, and she was the only person I told everything to. She’d been a grade above me, but she hadn’t had any friends, and neither had I. When she’d graduated last year, I’d felt lost, so I’d skipped school to hang out with her.

Ever since Mina had got her own spot a few months ago, I had hardly gone to school. I liked being over here. My mom always hated on me for being here. Mina had three older brothers and a couple of uncles who were in and out of prison, and Ma swore up and down I was fucking one of them. I was fucking, but not any of her brothers. That was just nasty. I was comfortable around them because they were like my brothers too. Mina had a big heart and always let her family crash at her spot whenever. She kept her door open for family no matter how crowded it got.

“Wait . . . Hold up. You walked? Why didn’t you call me?” she yelled down to me from her balcony. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“The bitch took my car.” I wiped my forehead and exhaled. “You got a whip?”

“You see that Chevy right there?” She pointed to a red car that looked brand new. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. You must’ve thought you did, but you didn’t.”

She giggled. “Oh. My fault.”

“Sammy gave you a pay raise?” I asked, wondering how she could afford rent, a light bill, and now a brand-new car.

“I don’t work at Sammy’s no more . . . That wasn’t paying shit. I got something else poppin’.”

“Oh, okay . . . You gonna tell me what’s poppin’? I need a job.”

She sipped her soda and didn’t answer about hooking me up with a job. “Happy fuckin’ Birthday. You are now officially an adult. How does it feel to be eighteen?”

I couldn’t smile, because I was too hot. Now that I wasn’t walking, sweat was forming all over my body, especially under my boobs. “You gonna let me in or not?”

“You look hot and mad as hell,” she laughed.

“Girl, I’m over this shit. I had to walk all the way up over here. You got another Coke? ’Cause you making tha. . .