AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She laughs. “See. I knew you’d see it my way. I’ll have it in your inbox by the time our call ends.”
I smile, powering up my desktop. “Great. Give me a week or so to get to it.”
“Darling, because I’m giving you first dibs at the next New York Times bestseller. I’ll give you three before I start shopping it.”
I thank her before hanging up. And sure enough, before the receiver hits the cradle, there’s a new message with an attachment from her.
Shayla calls again. Tells me Miss Lipz is on the line.
I laugh, then quickly compose myself as I pick up the phone. “This is Marika Kennedy speaking,” I say, trying to maintain every ounce of professionalism while feigning ignorance.
“Yaaass, bitch,” Jasmine says in her horrible attempt at sounding ratchet. She pops what sounds like chewing gum in my ear. “This is Lollipop. But you can call me Miss Lipz ’cause they real big ‘n’ juicy. And I know you had better be ready to publish my book. I wanna see Cum Stains in everyone’s hands ’cause you know like I know, cum is good for the soul.”
I crack up laughing. “Jasmine, girl, I can’t with you. Your ass is every bit of a damn fool.”
She joins in my laughter. “Girl, I couldn’t help myself. I was on Amazon this morning looking for a few good books to one-click on this Kindle and my mouth dropped at some of the ridiculous titles. I saw some really crazy shit titled Gorilla Pussy and one called Ratchet Bitch Riding It Raw. Oh and some mess called Miss Shitty. Like, really? What the hell is the reading world coming to?”
I laugh. “Ohmigod, no. But I’m not surprised. You should see some of the manuscripts titled with ridiculousness that come across some of my editors’ desks. All I can say is: welcome to the digital world, where everyone wants to be in print, hoping to be the next Zane or E.L James.”
She grunts. “Mmph. Well, good luck with that. It’ll never happen. Not with garbage like that. Anyway, I need something good to read for this flight to San Francisco. Please give me some titles of some books that I can actually stomach. Please and thank you.”
I chuckle, then give her the names of a few titles from some of my imprints (Sweet & Juicy, Drop It Like It’s Hot, Lick it Slow, Fire & Desire, and Wet Heat). Then I rattle off a few titles I’m familiar with from off the list of other publishing houses.
She thanks me. Then asks me if I’m familiar with the author Allison Hobbs. “Girl, who isn’t,” I say in a tone full of admiration of one of the hottest female authors of erotic fiction. “We’ve been trying to steal her from her current publisher since the release of her book Pure Paradise. And that’s been some years ago.”
“Well, honey, I just finished reading her book Munch. And, girrrrl, let me tell you. My kitty throbbed the whole time. Mmph. That’s all I’m going to say. Stevie didn’t read the book, but baaaaaaaby…he sure reaped the benefits. I wore that man out. By the time I finished draining him, cock dust was the only thing shooting out of that man.”
I crack up laughing. “Omigod! Not cock dust! I’ve heard it all now. Jasmine, your behind is crazy, girl.”
She chuckles. “Honey, that man loves it when I have a book in my hand. First thing he wants to know is, ‘is that one of your freaky books?’ A nod of the head and by the end of the night he’s sitting up in bed with his erection in his hand, smiling.”
“Hahahahahahaha. Girl, I can’t with y’all.” I open a drawer and retrieve some tissue from a box to dab under my eyes. Laughing at Jasmine has my eyes tearing. “So what’s been going on? How are the twins?”
“Ugh!” she grunts. “Hormonal. I swear they’re going to drive me to drink syrup and pop mollies.”
I laugh. She has fifteen-year-old twin daughters who give her a run for her money. Jasmine’s a jewelry designer and her husband, Stevie, is a multimillionaire entertainment attorney for some pretty high-profile celebrities here in New York and L.A. So her daughters, Amina and Amira, are afforded a fabulous life. Yet they’re fascinated with the street life and thugs.
“Girrrrl, I’m serious.” She sighs heavily into the phone. “Amina was arrested for underage drinking two weekends ago. And last weekend I spent my entire night in the emergency room with Amira’s ass.”
I gasp. “Oh, no. What happened? Is she okay?”
She sucks her teeth. “Well, she will be after her jaw heals and the stitches come out of her face.” My eyes almost pop out of my head as she tells me Amira and some boy she met on Facebook was caught having sex in his bed by his girlfriend.
“Whaaat? Omigod, no!”
“Girl, yes. Some crazy little ghetto-trash named Clitina—or some damn project mess like that—and some other hood-rat girl she was with, hit her in the face with a wrench, then sliced her face open.” I’m speechless. “We live way up here in Mendham Township, okay? But this little Grown Ass finds some way to trek her fast-ass into the slums of Irvington. I’m too through.” I ask what happened to the girls who assaulted her. “Oh, honey, we pressed charges on those two little trifling bitches.”
I shake my head.
“Anyway, girl. I didn’t call you with my family drama.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. That’s what girls are for. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Yeah, direct me to the nearest drug dealer.”
I laugh.
“Anyway, I’m going to be in the city one day next week. Hopefully we can meet for lunch or an early dinner.”
