Reflections of Us, Book Excerpt: " The Redemption of a Fly Chick",

I just existed. There was no focus or drive to push other than to get what was due to a pretty bitch like me.

That’s all I seen on TV, pretty bitches getting with ugly dudes for money.
I figured hell, I could do that. That’s all a chick wanted, to be with the flyest niggah, who had the flyest whip. So I can receive status, clout and shit. I knew I was the baddest chick with a weave tighter than a Nun’s pussy, with a shape sicker than cancer patients with the swine flu and a face that was prettier than the highest note in a Maxwell song. I thought how couldn’t I be the inheritress to all the baller shit. The only thing I did was hair and drive my ass to the mall and to the club in efforts to secure my future.
My ass attracted all type of V’s from the CLK Benzes and Range Rovers in New York to Candy painted Cutlasses when I took trips down south. On the strip they would be all lined up to greet me so it would be my choice. With my magnetic beauty I had the power to straight shut a block down! And I was in ecstasy cause my baller radar was ridiculous so I decided to play cute tricks with them, because I love flirting with money. They used go crazy when I looked at my cell phone while switching my ass in reverse wearing Leopard print leggings that you might as well call my second layer of skin.
After a few dates my legs were held in a V position for a couple of Rappers and Ball player dudes. My back caressed 500 thread sheets while they felt my sweetness and I would take a turn to ride my way out of the hood. My real life was turning into “As seen on TV” particularly the Rap videos, nice cars, fly clothes, vacations and my bank account began to grow. But there was a ceiling that was hard to break through especially when they open they mouth to ask me questions.
One night after a good time this dude started to allude to what do I do? I replied, “I do hair and I like to travel.” I’m thinking what the fuck does he want me to say. He said “That’s it?” I said, “we can have a second round now, baby.” He said, “No. I mean is that all you do? Do you have any other ambitions? Where do you see yourself in five years?”
I was thinking the nerve of him asking me all these trick questions and shit after I just swallowed his cum. I wanted to tell him I just want to sit on my big, pretty ass and look beautiful while I am counting your money. I didn’t smoke or drink so I didn’t look ghetto in the face. But I had to let this mutha fucka know that I was from the hood. And I damn sure wasn’t gonna give him the upper hand and let him think he was pushing me aside because I did not meet his bullshit expectations. So I just had to keep it raw with that mutha fucka, I said, “Listen, I don’t know what kind of bitch you looking for, but I want a nigga that can appreciate a chick with a big, pretty ass, who give good head, and that can keep his ass fed… So fuck you and don’t fucking call me.” I got dressed, told the front desk to call me a cab and got the fuck otta there.
Shit… I barely got my GED, I just needed to make enough to get me in the spots where I needed to be and I’ll be alright. These New York niggahs got the game twisted. I was fucking with them for a minute and I still didn’t have anything official. So I took my pretty ass to Atlanta where a Southern man can appreciate a chick like me. There I met a dude name Cee. He is originally from NY, but he been in the A for 10 years and he moves keys from Miami. I began to take trips with him. He most definitely enjoys my company and knows how to get it poppin. He said baby you too pretty to have to do shit. Whatever you want I am going to make sure you get it. I got deep with Cee and told him you are the man who I been looking for my whole life. Then I sucked his dick the hardest I ever sucked in my whole life. Like a true Southern man he kept his word. He had me in Gucci and copped me the new CLK Benz, we resided in his 500,000 home and we were living lovely.
One day I stayed back from one of his trips I was in our bedroom and I nearly cried because I finally made it. My motto: “Pretty Bitches Don’t Work” finally came to pass. I said to myself while hugging my mink coat, all those outfits, different colored weaves, wigs, high stilettos, knee length boots, dicks I sucked, tricks I did and compromising positions all lead to this point. Not only was I with one of the biggest pushers he was smart because he washed it up in Real Estate property. Life was good, 4 years went by and I was pregnant with our 2nd seed with Mrs. Cee tatted above my right tittie.
On a hot ass afternoon me and my daughter just came from getting a manicure and pedicure. I was relaxing nicely on my bed sipping on a ice cold Sweet Tea. Then I got a call from Cee saying that the Feds got him in Miami. The Feds don’t play, I knew they are probably going to do a paper trail so pack up as much as I could before they arrived. And left our beautiful home in mother fucking tears. I thought Cee was a genius by investing property in other people names, but the Real Estate market crashed so I could not flip shit. I was 7 months pregnant with a 3 year old baby girl with only $1200 in my pocket. I truly loved Cee, but the only way I knew how to survive was to fuck with another dude. Which was impossible in my condition. I thought dagg… just like that I am a pregnant mother who is homeless on the street. But I am from NY so I knew I didn’t have time to react, I just had to act. I touched the both of my kids and said we gonna make it out here. I didn’t want spend my last on rent, so I went to a women’s shelter.
While in there I protected my family and kept to myself, but I did let those chicks know that I do hair. I know times were hard for them too, so I charged them up North prices. I did corn rows, perms, full head weaves and box braids gave me about $375 a week. Thank God we had that, I still can’t believe I am now a single mother with a daughter and a son that I have to raise. Plus I’m in a shelter that resembles a High school full of bitches and we all got a story. I was never really into drama, all I wanted was my money and to be fly. But being in the shelter is an awakening and humbling to my soul, yet sometimes I feel like I am going to go crazy! I just try hard to be strong for my kids and I think that’s what is kept my sanity.
One of the girls gave me a city job application and she helped me fill it out. It was strange cause before this I never really had to sign my name Nikeya Clark. It took a lot for me to fill it out. Every letter made me miss Cee even more, he was an excellent provider. My motto, the anthem to my life “Pretty Bitches Don’t Work” is coming to an end. If it was just me I would have rode it out some more, but now I have children. Looking at my daughter, while feeling the movements of my son. I seen my mirror. My twin, At that point that I knew that I didn’t want to see her make the same mistakes that me and my mother made. I want my daughter to see her mother work and get her own money for a change. So I decided that the only assistance I will take is Section 8 and Food Stamps.
The game is over. I have learned that fairy tales may come true for a handful of bitches, but God Bless the chick that got her own. Not only her own crib, car and money, but knows her own path, her own definition of who she is and not what people expects her to be. After time went by I learned that Cee got 18 years Fed time and a girl name Tenayah was also pregnant from him along with me. Still some how I feel sad for Cee, he was a good man who knew how to treat his family, but I hope when he come home he will do everything legally. Aside for him I feel mostly sad for my children for bringing them into this type of life.
However its not over, I got my head on right I am considering going to college or opening up my own beauty salon. And as long as I got breath in my body I can make things right. This is just a lesson that I had to learn from getting caught up in all the “hype”. I wanted the “baller culture”, “The life”. This whole situation finally made me look within. I found a reflection, that was greater than my beauty it is called my strength. With this new strength I will beat down the bottled up demons that told me I was nothing, but a hoe and that I was not going to be shit that lurked from my past. Because now I know that I am more than my ass!!!

Copyright (c) Isis A. Francis 2010

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