“Yep.”
Kezzy chuckled. “Girl, you bullshitting. You aint wrote no damn book.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t writeabook. I’ve written and publishedfivenow.”
I shook my head. “Nah. Ion believe you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nigga, I aint gotta lie.” She eased off the chair and ambled over to me. “Look for yourself.” She handed her iPad over to me.
I scrolled through the page that she had pulled up, until I came across her name. Then I read her biography, and it definitely sounded like it was referencing her.
“Damn, this is fye. You literally have thousands of reviews on each book. But I don’t get it,” I mumbled, as I kept scrolling. “Why don’t you go around screaming that shit to the mountain top? Shit, I know I would.”
“Well, its mostly because I first started writing these books when I was underage. I’m self-published and my mama literally had to oversee my account because I wasn’t old enough. We just switched it over to my name once I turned 18. Anyway…with the content I was writing about, I didn’t go around announcing to everybody that I was writing about grown folks fucking and killing. Because I didn’t want people unfairly judging me or my mama. It wasn’t her fault that I would use her iPad, and sneakily read her urban fiction books. I was just grateful that she allowed me to freely express myself in such a way. And now…I just really haven’t started talking about it yet.”
“Damn. I’m saying. You be making real money off the books?” Kezzy questioned, as he leaned over to peer at the tablet.
“Yeah. The sales are up and down, honestly. But this month, I think that royalty direct deposit was like ten racks.”
My jaw dropped. “No bullshit? You serious?”
She nodded.
“So, what do you do with all that money? Do your mama keep most of it?”
“No. I keep every penny. She’s never touched my money. She has a certain amount going into an IRA, but that’s about it. In fact, she’s determined to hand over a savings she has for me, once I graduate. Even though, I probably won’t even need that money, for real.”
“Damn. So, if you already making that type of money, then I know that you aint really worried about college.” I handed her iPad back to her.
“Oh, I’ma still go. For the experience, if nothing else. Try out a semester or two.”
I smirked. “So, is that how you be getting most of that designer shit?”
She sat back down. “Pretty much. I mean, my mama introduced me to it, but I’ve been maintaining my own shopping budget for the last two years. But honestly, I’ve shopped so much that I’ve cooled off on buying designer. I keep it simple with Shein and stuff. The designer I have is just so plentiful that it probably seems like I’m always buying stuff. Now, I just buy maybe a bag a month. Spending no more than a grand or two.”
I shook my head. “You said that like it’s nothing.”
She nonchalantly shrugged.
Gazing at her, I was seeing her in an entirely different light. Realizing that I’d placed her in a box, thinking that she was just a spoiled brat. Meanwhile, she was a go getter and was quite humble about it, at that.
“So, does Harlem know about your books?” I wanted to know.
She nodded. “He knows. That’s why he’s so adamant about giving me things. He says that he wants me to know that no matter how far I reach, that he can keep up.”
Hearing that, I nodded, thinking that niggas really had to have their weight up to fuck with Summer. And I took that as a personal challenge.
Chapter 4
Summer
I gotta admit it. Ole Tricky Ricky was cooler than a fan, and having him and Breeze around made the house feel fuller.
It was Christmas break. On a random Saturday. And our house was so lively. My mama had the Christmas décor and multiple trees looking magnificent. Old school R&B was floating from the wireless speakers.
Both Ricky and my mama were off that evening and Ricky had randomly decided to put some meat on the grill. Simultaneously, they’d been getting tipsy, as they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
Admittedly, I could tell that Ricky was making my mama the happiest I’d ever seen, which was saying a lot, because she was naturally an upbeat person. She’d giggle her head off, as Ricky would bury his face in the crook of her neck.
