Here's another UNEDITED little sample from my current WIP (Let Me Love You). Still no release date yet.
Enjoy!!
I
stumbled through the front doors of Bijou Park, hoping, wishing, and praying
that the black coffee and plain bagel in my hands would serve to appease my
boss. Peter Park was a horrible person. Temperamental, demanding, flippant, but
talented and at the top of the custom jewelry game. An internship with him was
an anxiety-ridden thrill ride and an opportunity most aspiring jewelers would
kill for. I just happened to walk in on the right day—the day he and his
assistant-slash-girlfriend received a beat down at the hands of his wife, Twyla.
He was bloody and in need of a new assistant. I took advantage of his
desperation by adding a little custom jeweler training to the deal. I'd been
assisting and training under him and his staff jewelers for a little under a
year.
But today I was late.
Peter Park didn't do late—ever.
I nodded at Freda, the tall, ebony receptionist who
could slay any fashionista even though she was in her sixties, and headed
straight for the gold door with the silver lever handles that led into Mr.
Park's office. I knocked, waited, and when the door swung open to reveal a
livid Twyla, I thanked the heavens for my tardiness. Twyla was a certified fool
and only showed up at Bijou Park when trouble was brewing between her and Mr.
Park.
"Good morning, Mrs. Park," I offered.
Twyla flipped her forty-inch Remy hair extensions over
her shoulder and clasped her hands to her wide hips. She was at least two
inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than her Korean American husband, and a
damn pit bull. Mean, jealous, violent, and destructive. Peter might have
reigned terror down on his employees, but his wife reigned terror down on him.
Oddly enough though, she liked me, probably because she didn't see me as a
threat since I didn't dress or act like I was trying to catch a man—specifically,
her man. However, I still hated being
around her. With her drama-filled reality show antics, she made black women as
a whole look bad.
"Jo, honey, give us a minute. I’m in the middle
of reminding my husband of a few things."
I glanced behind her to see Mr. Park at his desk, his silky
black hair disheveled, tie crooked, glasses askew. The contents of the top of
his desk were littering the floor around it. I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
But not quite.
"Uh...sure. I'll be in the back with Shirl."
"Mm-hmm." She shut the door in my face.
I scurried to the small office occupied by Shirlene
Ramsey, the most tenured bench jeweler. Shirl's strength was making Peter
Park's artistic visions a reality since he rarely got his hands dirty anymore,
so to speak. She didn't design jewelry, but she was excellent at interpreting
others' designs. My goal was to design and
create, and I was fortunate to be able to see both sides of the process on a
daily basis.
"She still on the warpath?" Shirl asked,
when I dropped into a chair next to her work station.
"Yep. What'd he do this time? You know?"
Shirl glanced up from the piece she was working on and
shook her head. "All I know is we had all barely made it through the front
doors when she stormed in yelling and screaming, but I can guess what
happened."
I could, too. Mr. Park loved black women, surrounded
himself with us here at his company, and was a compulsive cheater despite the
fact that Twyla always caught up with his infidelities. It was as if he refused
to stop cheating on her and she refused to take their five daughters and leave
him. He cheated; she beat his ass and tore up his office. Rinse and repeat. It
was a wonder if the ridiculousness of it all didn't affect Bijou Park, but then
again, half the clientele ordered custom pieces for their mistresses or side
pieces. The relatability of Peter Park's life was probably what made the
business so successful.
"You were late?" Shirl asked, her eyes on
her diamond-drenched work again.
"Yeah...overslept. I didn't fall asleep until early
this morning."
"Netflix or Hulu?"
I rolled my eyes at how predictably pathetic my life
was. "Hulu. Watched a bunch of Top
Chef episodes."
Her forehead creased as she carefully added another
diamond to the eagle-shaped medallion. "I didn't know you liked to
cook."
"I'm tryna learn how to cook."
"By watching Top
Chef?"
I shrugged. "I've picked up some good tips from
that show."
"Girl, you better be getting you a soul food cook
book, so you can cook your way to a husband."
"Had one of those. I'm good."
"Humph. Okay..."
