Violet: Strawberry Mansion 3 Read online

  To whom it may concern:

  I ain’t got no excuses for the shit I did. Ain’t nothing I can say to make it right. You play with fire, you get burned, and my ass was set ablaze.

  P.S. tell my sisters that I love them

  Violet Brown

  Also By Julia Press Simmons

  Strawberry Mansion Series

  Strawberry Mansion:

  A Philadelphia Story

  Begonia Brown:

  A Philadelphia Story

  STRAWBERRY MANSION 3

  VIOLET

  BY

  JULIA PRESS-SIMMONS

  www.JuliaPressSimmons.blogspot.com

  www.myspace.com/ragewriter

  www.facebook.com/julia.m.press

  www.twitter.com/jpsimmons

  Published by Queen Midas Books

  Copyright © 2010 by Julia Press Simmons

  Cover design by: Junnita Jackson

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written consent from the author, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN – 978-1460961490

  ISBN – 1460961498

  First Printing October 2009

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real persons. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Queen Midas Books

  Philadelphia, Pa. 19142

  Harrisburg, Pa 17109

  www.QueenMidasBooks.com

  This book is dedicated to

  the loving memory

  of my sister

  Denise Leslie Gore

  She wrote poetry, sang to Dianna Ross records and smiled so big and bright that it lit up the world!

  &

  My Mother

  Zelma P. Williams

  For being my best friend

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I Thank God for the life full of love, creativity, and support. I am blessed and I know it. I owe the following people a debt beyond quantification: my parents, my son, Carolyn Abney, Audrey, April, and Tamika Abney, Shaconna Pinder,

  My friends in the industry who always have my back: Author/ Publisher and all around talent, Junnita Jackson, Editor extraordinaire Nora Gruenberg, Gloria Withers, Tamika Newhouse, Nakea Murray, Karen E. Quinones Miller, The Ladies of DejaVu, The ARC book club (you guys really rock!), Urban Fire, Leona Romich, Denise Hill, Rochelle, Madonna Awotwi, Shawn Rae Feimster, Yasmin Coleman, Joey Pinkney, and Hakeim.

  To All the Book Stores, Street Vendors, and Book Clubs who make my books pop, THANK YOU!

  I am a nurse by trade and I’ve always made connections with cool people via the job. However, never have I encountered so many cool people working together in one place. These women rock harder than heavy metal. They kick ass and they do it with a smile.

  For Gabby, my best friend, thank you for teaching me grace. For Barbara, whose heart is bigger than her whole body, I am so glad to know you and I admire your strength. For Marilyn, one of the greatest cooks and loving spirits that I’ve ever known, your wisdom gave me light in dark places. For Tina, who will give you the shoes off of her feet, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met inside and out. For Brandi, the first from 2c to feed me, we laughed more than we worked and our days whizzed by. For Rita, my soul sistah, I know it doesn’t seem like I appreciate you, but I do. For Althea, the hardest worker I know, you made my dreams of going back to school a reality and I am forever grateful. For Wanda, employee of the decade thanks for teaching me to say no. For Abimola, for reading and giving feedback, that my friend is priceless.

  Part one

  The Problem

  Chapter 1

  It’s time for this nightmare to end, Violet thought, as she pushed 85 miles per hour down Allegheny Avenue. Her wheels screeched and her tires blackened the street as she banked a right on to Broad. “I’m tired of all this shit,” she said while mashing the gas pedal – the shiny black Lexus revved up to 100. Violet flew threw a red light like a black blur. A kilo of cocaine sat open on the passenger seat, and Biggie’s “Ready to Die” blasted on the radio. “I’m so fucking tired.” Tears streamed down her cheeks turning grey as it mixed with the coke on her nose and upper lip.

  She looked down at the pregnancy test on her lap and a moan bordering on madness rumbled deep in her belly and exploded out of her mouth in a wail.

  She couldn’t get the look in Kyle’s eyes out of her head. Those beautiful chocolate brown eyes that she adored turned cold and flat as he sneered down at her. “No, God, no” she cried. She hopped the curve trying to avoid a young lady crossing the street carrying a sleeping toddler. She honked her horn as she slid into the intersection.

  She saw the truth in Kyle’s eyes. He didn’t give one flying fuck about her and the pain of that truth was more than she could bear. Begonia’s words rang in her head. She turned the volume up on the radio but she couldn’t block her sister’s voice out of her head. “So you’d rather be a slave, Kyle’s little live-in trick.” Begonia’s voice was filled with so much pain. It was all she could do not to drop the tough girl act and go to her big sister.

  “I am worse, Begonia,” Violet said softly, “so much worse.” The traffic on Broad Street was becoming too thick for Violet to weave through so she made a quick right on Cecil B Moore Avenue and a left on 15th street. She dug her hand into the Kilo of coke and snorted deeply. She could feel her pulse increase with the speed of the car. Her heart thudded against her chest in time with the base line of Biggie’s track. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her skin was blazing and she rolled the windows down so she could feel the wind.

  She just wanted it to be over; she wanted it all to be over. She betrayed her family for a man who didn’t matter. Kyle didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She’d left the people who loved her; left the only home she knew, dropped out of school, and transported major weight across state lines all for Kyle. Everything for Kyle and the love she thought they shared. Now she had nothing, and no one. She was pregnant and she didn’t even know who the father was. She could still feel their hands on her. It has been six weeks since they raped her and she still felt everything like it was yesterday. She snorted the rest of the coke on her hands and licked her fingers. She didn’t want to feel anything. Her body shook with sobs and tears blurred her vision. Thoughts of Begonia and Daisy flitted across her mind; Daisy’s laughter and the half smile Begonia wore when she was painting. Violet heard the sirens, before she saw the cop cars in her rear view. She smiled through her tears. It’s all going to be over soon…

  Six weeks ago…

  The Kitchen smelled like heaven. Violet had all four burners going. Chicken was frying, greens were simmering, stuffing was steaming, and spaghetti was on boil. She had home-made biscuits in the oven with her mac and cheese. Dinner was going to be slammin’. Kyle was in the living room with his boys - they were talking major shit waiting for the game to start.

  “Aye, yo, Violet, bring me another beer, and bring some more chips and shit out here cause the game is about to start.”

  “Okay, Babe.” Violet hollered. She put her cigarette out and poured more vodka into her kool-aid cup. Being around Kyle’s friends made her nervous. Kyle always made her wear these skim
py little outfits that left nothing to the imagination. She pulled her ponytail out and let her hair swing down past her shoulders. She bent over to buckle the strap of her red stilettos, and pulled the cuffs of her red checked booty shorts out of her crotch. She dumped chips and pretzels into a large mixing bowl, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and took a deep breath before walking out of the kitchen.

  She switched into the living room carefully avoiding all of the mirrors that hung on the wall. I don’t need to see my reflection to know that I look like a five dollar hoe, she thought. Bunky licked his lips and sighed as Violet walked by. He was dressed in a baby blue North Carolina jersey and matching hat. His dark skin glowed like patent leather in stark contrast with his outfit. She raised one delicately arched eyebrow. Make that a two dollar hoe. She sat the pretzels and chips on the coffee table and handed Kyle the beer. “Everything will be done soon, baby, but we’re getting low on ice.” She looked down at him dressed in an oversized white t and baggy jeans and frowned slightly. Everybody gets to wear close but me.

  “Aight,” Kyle said. He looked her up and down eyeing the outfit that he brought her.

  She could tell that he approved cause his eyes glazed over and his hand unconsciously went to his dick.

  “I’ll send one of those little niggas out to get you some, Aight?”

  She nodded her head yes, and he smacked her lightly on the ass dismissing her to the kitchen.

  “Damn,” Bunky said to the way her butt bounced after Kyle tapped it. All eyes were on her.

  She wanted to run into the kitchen, but she forced herself to walk. She hated game night and she hated to have to serve Kyle’s friends dressed like she was about to swing around a poll. Hating it didn’t matter. She did it because it was what Kyle wanted. Her whole life had become what Kyle wanted. She downed her glass of spiked kool-aid and tried not to focus on what they were saying about her in the other room.

  ***

  “Damn, Kyle, I never thought you would go out like that.”

  Kyle took a swig of his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about, Bunky?”

  “You know, lil shawty,” Bunky nodded his head towards the kitchen. “She got your nose wide open.”

  “Fuck outta here.”

  “I don’t know,” Amir said while brushing imaginary lint off of his black jeans. “If I had a bad ass little girl like that living with me, I’d be playing house too.”

  Kyle smiled but his eyes hardened and his grip tightened on his beer. “I’m playing house, Amir, you think so?” Kyle wanted to punch Amir straight in his fat mouth. “I don’t play house, nigga. I don’t play period, and my nose ain’t open. Y’all trippin for real.”

  Bunky smiled. He knew that Kyle was getting heated. This nigga ain’t nothing but a little sucka and I’m gonna prove it. I don’t know why Rodney put so much faith in his nut ass anyway. He walked around the couch and sat directly in front of Kyle blocking the TV. “Nigga, that little girl got your nose so wide open that you could drive a truck through it. I ain’t mad at you though, cause that little trick is bangin; chocolate shawty with all that long hair, tight little waist, and fat ass, shit I’d be trippin too.” Bunky leaned into Kyle’s face and smirked, “if I was a punk.”

  “Who in the fuck are you calling a punk?” Kyle asked clutching the chrome at his hip.

  Bunky sat up slowly, careful to keep the smile off of his face. Kyle could be played like Sega. “Calm down nigga, we just fuckin with you.”

  “Yeah, nigga,” Amir said. We know you wouldn’t trip over no hoe, no matter how fat her ass is.” Amir winked at Bunky and Bunky pulled a bag of wet out of his pocket.

  Kyle relaxed his grip on his gun. He sat back and laughed but it was forced and it showed. “Nigga get the fuck up from in front of the TV, cause yo ass ain’t see through!”

  “My bad,” Bunky got up, stretched, and started off towards the kitchen.

  Kyle watched him out of the corner of his eye. He took a swig of his beer and tried to remain cool. That wasn’t easy because Bunky made him nervous.

  Bunky turned his Yankee hat to the back and pulled a Dutch out his shirt pocket. “Hi Vy,” he said in a low sing song voice. He pinned her to the sink. “Pass me the knife will you?”

  She pushed away from him and backed up to the refrigerator. “Hey Bunky, what’s up?”

  Bunky grabbed his balls. “Something big, you want to help me get it down?”

  Violet swallowed hard. “You b-better st-stop playing, Bunky, before I call Kyle back here. That shit ain’t cute.”

  The corner of Bunky’s mouth turned up slightly. “Call him, shawty.” He pulled a knife out of the butcher block on the counter, and stared at Violet menacingly. “Go ahead and call him.”

  Violet’s heart skipped a beat. She gripped the counter and forced a laugh. “Yo, Bunky, for real, stop playing around.”

  Bunky slid the knife down the Dutch. He walked over to the trash can and dumped out the guts. He poured the wet into the open Dutch, winked at her, and walked out of the kitchen without saying another word.

  ***

  Violet sagged against the refrigerator. “Kyle is not going to let that crazy mother fucker hurt you!” She repeated that sentence over and over while she did the dishes and washed down the stove, but no matter how much she said it, she couldn’t bring her self to believe it. Blunt smoke and laughter floated into the kitchen. Her bottom lip trembled as she listened to them talk about widening the gap between her legs.

  ***

  Bunky lit the blunt took a long pull and passed off to Kyle who hit it lazily letting the smoke curl out of his mouth in slow circles. After two more quick pulls, Kyle passed off to Amir and sat back enjoying the daze that settled over him. “That’s some good shit.” He said closing his eyes. “I aint never felt this good over a few puffs.”

  “Oh yeah?” Bunky asked sitting back onto the coffee table.

  “Yea, man,” Kyle said not opening his eyes. “Where the fuck did you get this shit from?”

  Bunky took the blunt from Amir and inhaled deeply. “Aww man this is that home grown, you know how I do.”

  “Yeah, I now how your crazy ass do,” Kyle’s head rolled back on the couch and he tapped his feet to the rhythm of his heart beat—boom bop, boom bop. “This weed is the shit.” He said softly.

  Amir leaned closer to Kyle. “Naw, man, your little bitch is the shit.”

  “Yeah,” Bunky said puffing the blunt and plucking the ashes on the floor. “You should let us hit that.”

  “Man get the fuck out of here.” Kyle said putting his hand up for the blunt; However, Bunky held it out of his reach. Kyle’s eyes turned hard and flat, so Bunky took one quick pull and passed it to him.

  “It ain’t no fun if ya homies can’t have none.”

  “Y’all on some other shit,” Kyle said taking a long hit off the blunt.

  “No you on some other shit,” Amir said while holding his hand out for the blunt. “I know you not in love with that little trick.”

  “Hell yeah this nigga in love, his jaw gets tight every time we say something about her.”

  “Oh it’s like that, huh?”

  Kyle leaned back on the couch and looked up at the sealing. “Naw it ain’t like that y’all tripin!”

  “You mean to tell me you aint hooked on that little round ass?”

  “I mean her ass is tight but I ain’t hooked on shit, nigga. A hoe can’t be no housewife, ya mean? She serves a purpose point blank.”

  “Aww man she serves more than one purpose. I bet you that pussy is hella tight.”

  “Damn straight it’s tight; I am the first and only one in it!” The rush of weed through his system was electrifying his senses. Amir was talking about all the things he would do to Violet and too Kyle’s surprise his dick was getting brick hard.

  “Shut the fuck up, yo, before I knock that ass out” Kyle said but it his threat held no sting.

  Bunky plopped on the couch beside him. “You know we did th
e same thing to Rodney’s girl last week.”

  “Get the fuck outta here man. I know Rodney ain’t let y’all greasy asses touch Camen.”

  “Shiiiit,” Amir laughed. “I was donkey fuckin that bitch all night.”

  Bunky leaned over Kyle. “Hey, Amir, come on now. You know Rodney is a real ass nigga.”

  “What you trying to say I’m not?”

  “I’m just saying, we know, you got feelings for your shawty.”

  Amir laughed. “Everybody can’t be hard, Kyle. The world needs soft niggas too. You know balance. You love your bitch and that’s cool.”

  Kyle jumped up off the couch his heart was thumping in his chest. “Aint shit soft about me. Anything Rodney do—I can do, and I don’t have love for nothing but white rock and green paper. I don’t have love for no hoes. You hear me?” Kyle was screaming at the top his lungs. He pulled his shirt up to reveal a rock hard six pack and the chrome handle on his gun. “I’m King around here as hard as they come.” He grabbed his dick and motioned to the kitchen. “Bring that bitch in here!”

  Bunky smiled as he rose from the couch. A little bit of angel dust mixed with chronic gets them every time!

  ***

  Violet stood in the kitchen shivering despite the heat from the oven. It was becoming hard for her to ignore the conversation in the front room, Amir and Bunky always creeped her out. Bunky was cool when he was with his brother Nate, but when he was with Amir, things got real. It was like their special brand of crazy fed off of each other. Violet turned away from the door and stared at her reflection in the window. She wanted to go up stairs but was too afraid to walk back past them. She swigged her vodka straight from the bottle and looked at the backdoor longingly. Run Violet, just open the door and run.