Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
She’d been born Jolene. Mom loved to dress her in pink lace and put pink bows all over her head. Then, Jolene turned fifteen, shaved her head into a mohawk, demanded that she would never wear pink again, and told everyone to call her Jo.
A month later, Jo started binding her breasts to make her chest look flat. She no longer wore skirts or dresses.
When Jo brought her first girlfriend around for Sunday dinner, Mom looked at that white girl, opened her mouth, and crashed to the ground.
Till this day, I didn’t know if Mom passed out due to Jo being a lesbian or the fact that her girlfriend was white.
Or it could have been due to the cancer gnawing at Mom’s insides.
Now Jo was twenty, just five years younger than me. And she was still finding herself. Still, figuring out her life.
The door opened.
Jo stepped into the hallway and towered over me.
At six feet, she was taller than my 5’3 frame. Chloe was also just as tall as Jo and growing. I was sure TT would tower over me, too. Already, the top of her head reached my chin.
Today, Jo’s braids were pulled back into a bun. She had on a simple grey suit with a red tie. She brushed down the front of the jacket. “What do you think, Moni?”
I took in her face.
Our parents might not have succeeded at life, but they’d made some good-looking children. Everybody in our neighborhood always referred to us as those Pretty Glover Girls. We were all dark brown skinned with big almond shaped eyes and button noses, curvy hips and full-lipped smiles that always garnered compliments.
Dad would never let us leave the house. And the first boy that came around for me, Dad opened the door and showed him his gun. The boy rushed away. Word spread. After that, no more boys came to the door.
“Come on, Moni. The suspense is killing me.” Jo posed, twisting her slim body from side to side. “What do you think of my suit?”
I grinned. “You look like a winner.”
“A winner that should be hired to manage a comic bookstore?”
I leaned my head to the side. “Jo, the job is for cashier, not manager. Concentrate.”
“Sure. I’ll be a cashier for now, but eventually I expect to run the place.” She pulled out a joint from the side pocket. “No one in Glory knows comic books like me. They have to see that.”
I took the joint from her. “No smoking before the interview.”
“Too late. What’s done is done, but I don’t smell like weed. Right?”
I leaned forward and sniffed. “True.”
“I’ve got this, Moni.”
“You do.” I kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll be able to help you soon.”
“Not you, too.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about helping me. I just want you to figure out what makes you happy and go for it.”
“Yeah, but you work so hard for us—”
“Mom wanted us to be happy.”
Jo frowned.
“So, be happy. And good luck with the interview.” I placed the joint behind my ear and went into the bathroom. Before closing the door, I paused. “Oh yeah. Kermit’s engine is down. Some of the bouncers helped me push the car back into the parking lot.”
“It’s at the strip club?”
“Yeah.”
Jo checked her watch. “I’ll run by there after the interview and take a look at it.”
“Do you need cash for a taxi?”
“Naw. I’ll get one of my chicks to take me.”
“Thanks, Jo.” I shut the door.
God, please let Jo be able to fix it. I can’t get a new car.
Thanksgiving was coming up in a month. This would be the first one without Mom. I had to do something big to make them forget about her empty chair at the table.
And what the hell will I do for Christmas? We should go big for TT.
I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at my exhausted face. I was only twenty-five years old, but the bags under my eyes made me look older.
I couldn’t think of the last time I’d gotten dressed to hang out with my friends or go on a date. I let out a long breath.
My eyes watered. “How the hell did you do this, Mom? How?”
Raising my sisters had been the most stressful thing I’d done in my life. And it hadn’t even been a full year yet. If I had hair, it might have fallen out by now.
I rubbed my bald head. “I wished you left some notes on how to replace you. It’s been impossible. I’m barely keeping it together.”
After Mom’s cancer diagnosis, we thought we had more time.
We didn’t.
God, I need a change in my life. Please, help me. Do your magic.
A thunderous boom rocked the apartment.
What the hell?
It sounded like someone was slamming metal into the wall or a door. The sound of wood cracking filled our small apartment.