In My Girls I Trust, page 1
In My Girls I Trust
Brandi Johnson
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Copyright Page
Dedication
In loving memory of
Aunt Mary, Aunt Elanda, and Poppa
Acknowledgments
Here I go once again, and this just means that God’s blessings never stop.
First and foremost, I must give all praise to God for His continuous love and blessings that He has bestowed upon me, allowing all my dreams to come true.
Nikki Ajian, thanks once again for all the hard work you put down. I don’t know what I would do without you in my corner. Thanks for sticking by me, through my attitudes and all. I truly appreciate everything you have done for me in and out of my literary journey, even when it seemed like I didn’t care. Trust me, I did.
Joylynn Jossel, you have not only been my agent, but my friend. Thank you for taking me under your wing, and may God bless you in all that you do.
Montias, Brei’yonte, and Amir’aki, my three sons. You guys are my purpose for living. Thank y’all for all y’all unconditional love and support. Mommy love y’all, and just think, we’re one step closer to Disneyworld.
Mommy and Daddy, your baby girl has done it again. Thank you, Mommy, for being my walking billboard. You were the one who told half of Columbus about Spoiled Rotten. I can’t thank you enough. I am so proud to be your daughter. You have supported me through everything.
Special thanks to my King; you came along at just the right time. I don’t know if you know it or not, but you have been the ray of sunshine that I’ve been searching for for so long. Loving you has truly changed my life. Thanks for always having my back, but most of all, thanks for allowing me to be your Queen.
To all my brothers and sisters (it’s too many to name), thanks for always having my back . . . I love y’all.
I would like to thank Tysha (The Boss: Story of a Female Hustler) and M. Raye Turner (Pretty Monster)—thanks for all the advice and friendship that you two have shared. Keep up the good work, ladies, and I wish y’all much success.
I gotta give a shout out to all my Spoiled Rotten fans: thank you for all your love and support, and I hope and pray that I continue to give y’all what y’all looking for with each piece I put out. Holla atcha girl: www.BrandiAJohnson.com.
Chapter One
“India, can you please come get me?”Alexis cried into the phone receiver.
India pushed Martell off her. “Where you at? Are you okay?”
“I’m at the hospital. I had a little accident,” Alexis said quietly.
India sighed. “Did Ronald jump on you again?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Alexis had shame all throughout her tone.
India stood up and slipped on a pair of jogging pants and one of Martell’s Fubu T-shirts. “Where the kids at?”
“At home with Ronald.”
India became angry. “What the fuck you mean? You left the kids at home with Ike Turner while you sittin’ up at the damn hospital?”
“They were in bed asleep so I didn’t wanna wake ’em up,” Alexis snapped back.
India was disgusted. “Alexis, you will never learn.”
“India,” Alexis whined. “All I got is a black eye.”
“What you mean ‘all I got’? Be standing at the front door, I’m on my way.” India hung up the phone and kissed Martell on his forehead. “I’ll be right back.” Martell pulled her back on top of him. “Martell, please, not now, sweetie, Alexis needs me.”
“What about me? I need you too. I’ve been gone on business for five days, and this is the first we have been able to spend some time together since I’ve been home. I’m sick and tired of every time those hood-rat friends of yours call, you go running.” Martell was fed up.
“Martell, baby, I’ll be right back,” India whined. She knew Martell hated for his woman to whine.
“Well, I won’t be here when you get back!” Martell jumped out of India’s California king sized bed and started putting on his clothes.
“Martell, don’t go,” India begged.
“You know one of these days you gon’ be without me if you don’t get your shit together,” he barked while buttoning his Armani dress pants.
Nigga, please, you know yo’ ass ain’t going nowhere. You say the same shit every time, India thought as she tied up her Nike Air sneakers. India knew she had Martell wrapped around her clit. She also knew that when she got back from dealing with her best friend’s drama, he would be laying in her bed waiting for her. What man would leave after having had the pleasure of being with India Ariel Davenport? She grabbed her purse and was on her way out, but not before checking herself out in the mirror real quick.
India had a strong resemblance to Kenya Moore; she was just a few shades lighter. India would sometimes use Kenya’s name to get her and her girls into a club and it always worked. They would walk in with their heads high, and the guy at the door would escort them straight to the VIP section where they would rub elbows with some big-time ballers.
India always knew she would amount to something. She looked too good not to. India’s mother being Hispanic and her father being an African American blessed her with long, silky, black hair that came just a little past her shoulders. Her caramel complexion was flawless; she had dark, almond-shaped eyes, and the body of a goddess, thanks to being in the gym three to four times a week. India’s parents always wanted her to become a model, and she was on her way until she hooked up with her two best friends, Alexis and Keaundra.
Keaundra was the dominant one of the three, while Alexis was the wild one—open to almost anything. In any group of friends you always have a follower and that’s where India came in at. She was so sheltered growing up, that once she got a taste of freedom, it was on and poppin’! Her parents couldn’t tell her anything. Hanging out late, skipping school and getting high with Keaundra and Alexis took precedence over everything, including modeling.
Davenport was a high-class name in Mansfield, Ohio. Her father, Richard Davenport, had pull and lots of it. Richard Davenport was the mayor’s right hand man, and one of the most bourgeois, prominent judges around. He had the reputation of sending all the big-time drug dealers up the river, and you could bet your mom’s best Sunday outfit that they were doing Buck Rogers time! Mr. Davenport hated drug dealers just as much as he hated his mother-in-law.
India climbed in her truck, and in spite of her best friend’s drama that awaited her, she thought back six years to some drama of her own.
“One of the biggest drug raids,” Mr. Davenport read aloud from the front page of the newspaper as he sat at his oak dining room table eating his breakfast. “I can’t wait to prosecute those bastards. They’ll be doing forever and a day.”
“Oh my goodness. Richard, come quick, it’s Indy on television,” Mrs. Davenport yelled to her husband from the living room.
India chuckled remembering her mother’s dramatics as she had replayed their reactions to her arrest. Mr. Davenport jumped up from the table and stood in front of the sixty-two-inch plasma television next to his wife. His eyes bulged out of his head as he watched his only child being escorted out of one of the largest dope houses in the area in cuffs.
“Here we are reporting from WBAJ News Center twelve,” a news anchor came across the TV screen and said. “This has to be one of the biggest drug busts in a long time. The Metrich unit seized fifteen pounds of marijuana, three guns, one hundred and sixty grams of cocaine, and over fifty thousand in cash. The Feds have been watching this house for two years. While searching the house they looked in an upstairs closet and found a young lady hiding. The young lady has been identified as Judge Richard Davenport’s daughter. India Davenport has been arrested and is being held on a million-dollar bond, back to you Curtis.”
Mrs. Davenport screamed at the top of her lungs as their phone rang off the hook.
While her parents were frantically trying to get her out of jail, India knew once she did make bail, the shit was gon’ hit the fan.
“Davenport, you made bail,” the officer yelled.
India got up slowly as the officer unlocked the holding cell. India glanced in the plastic mirror before leaving. She looked a hot mess. Her mascara was running down her face from all the tears she had shed, her hair was standing all over her head because they had made her take all the bobby pins out of her freshly done French roll, and her breath needed a date with some Listerine. “Who’s out there?” India asked the officer, hoping that it would be her mother instead of her father. She knew she could shed a few tears and get sympathy from her mother, but her father couldn’t care less about tears.
“Does it matter who’s out there? You just made a million-dollar bond. I wouldn’t care if a gang of midgets were out there, you’re free, pretty lady.” The officer smiled.
That compliment went straight to India’s head. India smiled at the rather large officer before exiting the cell. Her smile soon faded as she spotted her father talking to the chief of police.
“Indy, baby, are you okay?” Mrs. Davenport pushed through the media and over to her baby girl and asked in her heavy Spanish accent.
“I’m fine, Mommy.” India attempted to smooth her frizzy hair down as cameras flashed and microphones were being stuck in her face.
“India, what were you doing in that drug house?” someone yelled from the crowd.
India rolled her eyes, pushed the mic out of her face, and continued fighting through the crowd of people. Police officers barricaded the media so India and her family could make it safely out of the building.
“Did anyone hurt you or try to molest you?” Mrs. Davenport asked.
India became agitated. “No, Mom, they didn’t!”
“Enough small talk. What in the world was my seventeen-year-old daughter doing in a drug house? I’m so embarrassed. As of today I disown you as my daughter, and I want my million dollars back!” Mr. Davenport said before storming out of the county building.
India was shocked and hurt by that remark.
“Don’t worry honey your father didn’t mean that,” Mrs. Davenport said as she rubbed the side of India’s face.
India didn’t know what to say. How was she going to pay her father back a million dollars when she only got fifty dollars a week for allowance? India laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and cried.
Mrs. Davenport watched as her husband stormed back into the county building, walking toward her and her daughter. “Oh, yeah, all of your expenses are cut off, and if you don’t have my million dollars paid by the time I die, then you will be cut out of my will, understand me?”
India knew her father meant every word. When they got home, Mr. Davenport confiscated her brand new Trailblazer, took her cell phone, and unplugged the phone in her room. He then asked for all six of her credit cards and cut them up in her face. That hurt worse then being hit in the head with a hammer.
“Richard, don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on our little Indy?” Mrs. Davenport pleaded.
“Helen, your little Indy has to get money the best way that she can. Hell, she’s been labeled as a drug kingpin, so let her go out and sell drugs to get what she needs!”
“Richard!”
Mr. Davenport was disgusted with his daughter. “Helen, can’t you see that people don’t give a damn about all the drugs and guns they found? Only thing they cared about was that it was Richard Davenport’s daughter in the house. They didn’t even bother mentioning the fact that her friends were in the closet with her. Their parents’ names meant nothing in this town, so their bonds were nowhere near as high and they’re not making examples of these girls, just India! She put a mark on my damn name and my reputation, and I will not forgive her for that.”
India began crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“Don’t worry, Mommy’s little Indy, your father will get over the embarrassment sooner or later. It’s just going to take some time,” she assured her daughter.
India waited until her mother and father went to bed before sneaking down to the kitchen to use the telephone.
“Hello?” Alexis answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Lexy,” India whispered.
“Hey, girl! You know you’re the talk of the town, don’t you?” Alexis said, cracking up laughing. “You’re all over the news.”
“Yeah, thanks to you and your bright ideas. ‘Let’s skip school and go over to Meeko’s house’,” India said, repeating the words Alexis had said to her earlier that day. “And now look, me, you, and Keaundra are known as drug dealers.”
“No, actually, you’re the one known as a drug dealer, Mr. Davenport’s daughter,” Alexis chuckled.
“That shit ain’t funny, Alexis. My million dollar bond is non-refundable. I’m on probation for a year and I have to do community service, which is manual labor. I have to attend drug classes, not to mention my father took everything away from me. I don’t have nothin’ in my room but a bed, and he said he’s only giving me shit that the state requires me to have.”
“Dang, where’s your truck?”
“Gone.”
“Your big-screen TV?”
“Gone.”
“Your stereo, your hundred and fifty CDs, your computer?”
“Gone, gone, and gone,” India replied.
“Dang, that’s deep. Your dad must really be mad. He took ya truck from you.”
“Yeah, and it’s all your fault.”
“Didn’t nobody put a gun to yo’ head and make you skip school, India.”
“If yo’ ass wasn’t fiendin’ for a blunt we would not have even been up in that dope spot. Of all the days we go to Meeko’s the door gets kicked the fuck in! Now, how ironic is it for Meeko to have to run to the store to get a loaf of bread at seven in the morning? If you ask me, I think the nigga probably set us up to take the fall,” India said.
“I wouldn’t put it past his shiesty ass. I know one thing: he ain’t got to worry about me buying no more bud from his ass.” Alexis changed the subject. “Are you goin’ to the Summer Jammy-Jam on Friday?”
“You know I’m on punishment. I would have to sneak out, and plus, I don’t got nothin’ to wear. I don’t get any more money, and my dad cut up all my credit cards, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Well, wear somethin’ you already got,” Alexis recommended.
“Bitch, please! India Ariel Davenport wear somethin’ old to the biggest party of the year? I don’t think so.”
“I got an idea, since you don’t wanna wear nothin’ old to the Summer Jammy-Jam,” Alexis smirked.
“I hope it’s not somethin’ that’s gon’ land me in jail again.”
“Trust me, it won’t.”
“Davenport, you made bail,” the officer said. “Nice to see you again.” The chubby officer smiled at India. “You must like coming to jail.”
India rolled her eyes as she walked out of the cell and into her mother’s arms.
“Indy, how dare you shoplift!” Mrs. Davenport shouted.
“Mommy, I needed somethin’ to wear to the Summer Jammy-Jam and I didn’t have any money,” India whined, as the fake tears fell from her eyes.
“Why didn’t you just come to me for the money?”
India shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought maybe you felt the same way about me as Daddy,” she lied.
“I could never feel that way about you, Indy. I’m so glad your father is out of town or he would disown the both of us. The judge not only extended your probation but now you have to report. Now, promise me that you will stay out of trouble,” Mrs. Davenport said as she and her daughter walked to the car.
“I promise, Mommy,” India said in a child-like voice.
India shook the old memories from her head as she pulled into the hospital parking lot.
