Pricey, p.1
Pricey, page 1
Pricey:
Playing in Traffic
Fabiola Joseph
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Pricey: Playing in Traffic
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue - The Price of a Story
The Beginning - Planting the Seeds
Chapter 1 - The Price of Reality
Chapter 2 - The Price of Pussy
Chapter 3 - The Price of Truth
Chapter 4 - The Price of Our Past
Chapter 5 - The Price of Betrayal
Chapter 6 - The Price of Our Sins
Chapter 7 - The Price of Entering the Dark Side
Chapter 8 - The Price of Being Billie Blue Blondie
Chapter 9 - The Price of Self-reflection
The Middle - Watering the Plants
Chapter 10 - The Price of a Deal
Chapter 11 - The Price of Assumption
Chapter 12 - The Price of the Buyers’ Circle
Chapter 13 - The Price of Meeting Bellissima Buzzelli
Chapter 14 - The Price of Responsibility
Chapter 15 - Carmine The Price of a Lover’s Heart
Chapter 16 - The Price of Learning Lessons
Chapter 17 - The Price of a Seat at the Table
Chapter 18 - The Price of Evolving into Madam Blondie
The End . . . of What Was - Wilted Flowers Emerge
Chapter 19 - The Price of White Powder
Chapter 20 - The Price of Freedom
Chapter 21 - The Price of Family Values
Chapter 22 - Carmine The Price of Loving Billie Blue
Chapter 23 - The Price of the Journey
Chapter 24 - The Price of Brotherly Betrayal
Chapter 25 - The Price of Our Actions
Chapter 26 - The Price of Playing in Traffic
Chapter 27 - Carmine The Price of Devotion
Chapter 28 - The Price of It All
Epilogue - The Price of Enlightenment
{A Note from the Author}
Author Bio
Urban Books, LLC
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Wyandanch, NY 11798
Pricey: Playing in Traffic © 2016 Fabiola Joseph
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6228-6878-0
ISBN 10: 1-62286-878-1
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Pricey:
Playing in Traffic
by Fabiola Joseph
Dedicated to Brandie Davis and Donnell White
Your love is inspirational.
It is proof that infinite love exists.
Thank you for allowing me to witness something as
beautiful
As the love that resides between the both of you.
The Law of Freedom
It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.
—Voltaire
Acknowledgments
Brandie Davis, thank you for being a real friend. You are gifted, giving, strong, and at times, my sanity. You go far and beyond for not only me, but for everyone in your life. You are the best friend everyone deserves.
Papaya Wagstaff, you have been rocking with me since my first book. Thank you for being such a great friend. Thank you for all of your help. I needed someone like you. Luckily for me, I found you.
Qiana Drennen, I am so blessed to have you as a friend. Talk about selfless. You are the epitome of that word. You have a hard exterior, but on the inside, there’s a beautiful heart and soul. You are one of the good ones.
Micole Walker, we may argue until the sun comes up, but I know you have my back. We fight like sisters, and although we don’t speak as often as we used to, I respect and care for you very much.
TyKia Spencer, I love you, and I always will. I am so very blessed to have you in my life. I love you down to my soul, Boobie. Thank you for being you. You make my world a much more beautiful place. You are my rarest find. Most people only wish to find the beauty that is you.
N’TYSE, because of you I can walk into a store and see my books on the shelves. Thank you for making my dreams come true.
To my publisher, thank you will never be enough, but I offer it anyway.
My mother, who at heart’s core is one of the most beautiful people I have ever known, I get my writing gift from you and the gods. Your poetry is the loveliest thing I have ever heard. When I was a kid, you used to perform around the Maryland area. I would just sit in the audience and be dazzled by your stage presence and words. You are beyond gifted, and even when you think nobody remembers or knows how much, I do and always will.
Brianna, looking at you, I see so much of me in you, and I just want to rescue you. I am your older sister, after all. Then the realest parts of you reappear and I smile. I know that you will be better than me, you will do more than me, and you will be everything you set out to be. You will be all that I regret that I am not, and that fills me with joy.
Chealsey, you inspire me with your strength and pure heart. Your health battles will never stop you, and I hope to one day have that kind of drive. We know exactly what the other is thinking with just one look. You are brave and beautiful, and I can’t wait to see you on the big screen. You need to hurry up! Because of you, I will win my first Oscar for my movie script.
Granny Esperine, who I got all of this lip from (lol), there is not a stronger, more bullheaded, beautiful person on this earth who can fill your shoes. You’re a tough cookie, but my God, what a woman. You are this family.
My supporters: There are no real words that will ever convey the happiness I feel and how thankful I am for my readers. I am different, I know. At times, I wonder if they ask themselves, “Where is this lady leading me?” I am out of the box, and my mind ranges from here to Timbuktu. I take you on a journey, and because of you, I do not travel alone. I have passengers with me who go through the same emotions as me. At times, I feel as if the people who read my work and truly understand it know me better than most in my life. You are friends who I don’t have to know personally, friends that I don’t have to speak to every day, but you are friends who are there for me. I appreciate you with every breath in my body. You are my invisible friends as I write, you are the reason I can call myself an author today. Yes, I was always a writer; that is the gift that was breathed into me by the gods, but because of you, I am an author.
Prologue
The Price of a Story
Her face was tight and shiny, showing the strain of previous plastic surgeries. I could tell that she was a little older than me. I was only twenty-five, and I wouldn’t give her any older than her late twenties. We were a vast contrast against the other. While I dripped with diamonds and feminine wiles, she wore combat boots and had an air of misery about her. Although I suffered from a miserable past, I wore my pain on the inside, while hers was splattered across her face.
When I entered the pricey hotel room with Carmine and our entourage of protection, I wondered why it was so dark. It was midday, yet the room looked as if it was midnight. I got close enough to her, and knew instantly why she shied away from the light. Beneath her scars and anger, I could tell she was once a beautiful woman. Now I wasn’t so sure how to feel about the woman who sat before me. The most attractive thing about her was her curly hair. Although at first glance you may have thought it wasn’t combed, a longer glance would prove that theory wrong. Ringlets of curls fell in place, adding a touch of female wiles to her rough exterior as it danced against her brown skin.
In my short time here on this earth, I had met two people with the same names but spelled differently. Those two individuals would somehow forever change my life. Bobby Capello, the man who was responsible for the darkest period of my life; and this woman sitting right in front of me, whose name was Bobbi.
Carmine and I sat across from Bobbi. There were also three other men whom she brought to guard her. I was agitated from the second Carmine pushed this meeting on me. It wasn’t that I knew the woman personally, but for some reason I just didn’t like her. Two days before the meeting, Carmine called her without her being aware that she was on speakerphone. I started sensing something when Carmine informed her that he wanted to include me in their next meeting. She hastily questioned his decision to do so. I had to be involved and she didn’t like that fact. How dare this bitch? Maybe she didn’t get the memo that Carmine never makes a move without me.
I think what irritated me most was the fact that this was another female. We had it hard enough when it came to dealings in the underworld. Men looked down on us, considered us weak, and never treated us as equals. I fought my way to the top. I was forced to leave bodies, traitors, and even those I considered friends behind. Those sacrifices should earn respect and she was going to give me that. I was only twenty-five, but it seemed like I had lived a full lifetime. I had lost, taken, killed, and now I ruled. Even if she was to be forced to do so, she needed to respect me.
Our ill-tempered exchange of words and disrespectful glares had thickened the air to the point that I was taking in long, deep breaths. Her last comment about me being too young—as if Carmine wasn’t just a few years older—touched a nerve. I looked at the lady who sat across from me and I turned my nose up in disgust. Not only did her outer appearance make her hard to look at due to all of the plastic surgeries, but her soul seemed to lack kindness.
“What in the hell do you know about me? Just because I am beautiful does not mean that my past was one of privilege. I had to fight to get to the top of the Pricey Pussy Empire just like you had to fight for your spot.”
She laughed as I tried to stand up for myself. Her face was so tight and frozen that she no longer looked like a young woman in her late twenties. Instead, her smile only added falsely earned years to her expression.
“Carmine, this is why I told you I would rather just deal with you. Women bring along too much bullshit with them. Her attitude changed the minute she laid eyes on me.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. I cocked my head back and bellowed out deep-rooted laughter, which I knew would anger her even more. “My attitude may have changed as soon as I laid eyes on you, but it doesn’t have everything to do with what you look like. Beyond your face, your attitude is fucking disgusting; but I am quite curious. Tell me who, no, what are you? My God, what in the hell did you do to yourself? I am almost afraid to look at you. Not because you put any fear in my heart, but because I don’t want to go home and have nightmares tonight.”
What I said was unkind and evil and I wanted it to be. Resentment and pain flashed in her eyes and I knew I had her attention. Carmine reached over and, at first, tried to calm me down with a light pat on the knee. When he realized that his slight touch wouldn’t work, he turned to me as if no one else was in the room. He lightly brushed my cheek with his hand and quickly kissed my lips. “Calm down, Billie Blue. Do this for me, my love. Calm down so we can talk.”
Carmine was the only person who could douse my fire, and I was always the good angel on his shoulder. We understood each other’s rage and could easily control the other’s wrath.
With my feelings somewhat under control, I looked at the monster. What I found in her eyes took me back. In the place of resentment, I saw sadness. Bobbi’s eyes were on Carmine’s hand, which sat on top of mine. Instantly, I was able to relate to her for that brief moment. I took a few seconds to question the lack of love she may have been experiencing in her life. The look of longing swam steadily in her eyes against the strong current of loneliness that lingered in the vessels to her soul. But as quickly as it had appeared, the minute she raised her eyes to face me her moment of weakness disappeared.
“What have you ever had to fight for? First place in a beauty pageant? Life must have been so hard for you. But here is the thing: out there your looks matter, but in the world we have chosen to thrive in, your looks don’t hold any weight. Well, not in mine at least. I sell drugs; I don’t push cunt. There are a million cute bitches walking around L.A. I didn’t question your looks because they matter. I am questioning your fucking guts. I want to know if you really have the balls to handle anything besides selling pussy.”
I jumped to my feet and she was right behind me. There was no need to look around the room. I knew that my soldiers were just as ready as hers. I wasn’t going to take too much of her disrespect without reaching out and showing her physically what I was all about. I had come a long way from that little girl who was taken from Haiti and placed in the Vega house. I was born from chaos and chose to continue on that path. It took me awhile to grow from meek and scared, and transform into a lioness who ruled her jungle while blood dripped from her fangs with pride. Now, I was a full-grown predator who would kill when provoked, and my claws were only seconds away from showing.
“It’s not about my looks, huh? If that were really the case, why do they bother you so much? I came here to discuss business with who I thought was a businesswoman. Instead, you have chosen to wear your weaknesses on your sleeve. That anger and jealousy that is leaking from your pores isn’t because you think that I am incapable of handling mine. No, that’s not why. You didn’t stand here throwing daggers at my beauty because you thought that it would stop us from making money. No, you just can’t stand looking at what you will never be. We are two women who had to fight to stand in our positions; yet, just like a fucking woman, you would rather hate me for what I have, for what you lack, and for what you may never have again,” I said, leaning into Carmine.
Bobbi stood in front of me, heaving for air. I watched as the beast damn near salivated at what I presumed was the thought of making me pay for my words. Her face was once again twisted with hate, but I was ready for whatever she wanted to do. I may have been selling sex and, to some, that was disgraceful. But, to me, respect needed to be shown no matter the game, because the players were all the same. No one was above the other. They came to me seeking pleasure from the sexiest men and women, and I supplied them with the best. As for her, she fed the dirty little drug habits of the people who yearned to escape the real world. From what I had heard, her shit was some of the best drugs around. Together, we were destroying the world in our own ways, so that made us even. We held keys that opened different doors, but those doors all led to the same destination: hell.
“Little girl, this game isn’t for the beautifully weak. The pussy game doesn’t hold a candle to the game I play. I can look at you and tell that you just don’t have the heart.”
At first, I wanted to rip her fucking tongue out of her mouth and force her to swallow it along with her words. She had no idea who she was speaking to. I took the Pricey Pussy Empire by storm and handled things as any man in power would. I also liked to think that I ran it better. To me, women had this elegance about them that men lacked. Even when I had to ruffle some feathers, no matter if it was a worker, a buyer, or a partner, I did it with grace and class. Carmine once told me that in the midst of fury, that was when I was the most beautiful. It didn’t matter if I was being charming just to instill my will, or chopping off their goddamn heads, I did it the way only a woman could.
I stood there thinking about all of the grotesque ways I could make this old, bitter bitch suffer, but I knew that I could only fantasize about feeling the texture of her blood against my fingertips. Forcing her to show respect would do nothing but start a war, and I was much wiser than that.
“How about you sit the fuck down and let me tell you about who I am? I am asking nicely because if I opt to show you, you may not walk out of here alive,” I said, still filled with anger.
Peering into my eyes, it was as if she saw something in them of interest. Her eyes softened and she backed away. Bobbi took her seat as she chuckled. She picked up her drink and crossed her legs. She played with her wild head of hair as if she was trying to get every strand into place; and, with a wave of the hand, she asked me to continue.
“Go ahead, Billie. Let’s hear what brought your pretty little ass right in this room, at this very moment.”
I looked at Carmine, and asked if he would fix me a drink. I took my seat, took a few deep breaths, and told her my story. No, I didn’t just tell her my story; I told her our story. Bobbi sat and witnessed secondhand the evolution of Billie Blue Blondie and Carmine Pallazolo.
The Beginning
Planting the Seeds
Some are born this way
While others are
Forced to transform.
Chapter 1
The Price of Reality
There was that sound again, and it was making me crazy: “Get up you lazy bitch. Get up, Billie!”
The thin sheet was pulled off of me as I struggled to sit up. I was so tired. It seemed as if I had just gone to bed, yet there I was, getting up to start another dreadful day. Sitting up, I looked at Carmine. He always got up with me, no matter what. I guess you could say that we looked out for each other. Although our background stories were different, we were still living the same nightmare.
