If I Was Your Woman: A BBW Camden Love Story Read online

  If I Was Your Woman

  A BBW Camden Love Story

  By: Mz. Toni

  Copyright © 2015 Mz. Toni

  Published by Write House Publishing under TIECE Presents

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to the real locals are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely coincidental.

  Text TIECE to 22828 for Updates, Spoilers, Giveaways, Announcements, & any New Tiece Presents Releases.

  This book is dedicated to my guardian angel, my baby sister Janaya Shanice Lynch, Gone way too soon. We are still in so much pain and we miss you every day continue to smile down on us, I love you irk box 2/28/1997-11/4/2014

  To my three heartbeats Zahniyah, Lavell and TJ everything I do is for my beautiful babies without you guys I am nothing mommy loves yall!!

  To my mommy, my world, my idol, my bestfriend, I know this hasn't been the best time for you but you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met in my life. You’ve handled every hard time like the strong black beautiful woman you are, because of you I know I can make it through anything I love you!

  To my heart we’ve had a rocky year, but through it all you managed to be there to support me and push me to do better. I can always count on you to be there no matter the weather with you I am never alone.

  To my sisters, I love you guys so much we’ve been tested and still managed to stick together and come out stronger I know Janaya would be so proud of us right now. My gorgeous chocolate drop I'm so proud to call you my baby sister you make me so proud and happy. Chanelle when people ask me if I have any brothers I'm quick to tell em naw but I got a sister that can fight like one (lol) you always have my back, front and sides I love how much you love me.

  Shana my big little sister you’ve stood by me every step of the way with this book, you dealt with me calling you all times of the night, me tossing idea’s at you. You are my biggest fan and critic when you didn't like something you made sure to let me know wit ya rude self but I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me and I love you to the moon and back.

  My friend, my heart, my sparklette I love you so much thank you for letting me talk your ear off with my many idea’s thank you for just always being you!

  To my test readers: Keya, Elijah, Jorelle and Sade thanks for reading and helping. To my cousin-in-law Stephen Beverly who let me borrow his laptop forever thank you for everything.

  To Ebony, I appreciate you it doesn't matter what I want whether big or small business or personal you're there, your heart is soooooo big and I love you for that thank you for the support and help.

  To my publisher Tiece Mickens, the hard working loyal woman that I have grown to love and admire. What can I say, you took a chance on me, you saw my potential and I'm forever grateful. I have never met anyone with such a beautiful, kind and giving soul. Thank you for everything you have done and still continue to do. I know I made the right choice when I became a part of Tiece Presents because you show me every day that it isn't just a business it's a family.

  To my pen sister Yas, we’ve grown a bond that's unbreakable I love you positive spirit and energy thank you for being you!!!!

  To the whole Tiece Presents/Write House/TBRS my pen family I salute Each and every one of you!!!

  Chapter One

  (Shante)

  I stepped into my apartment and couldn’t believe my eyes. I was tempted to check the numbers on the door to insure that I’d entered the correct residence. My heart raced as I took in the damages. It was all so crazy. I was nice enough to let my mom move in with me after she’d been evicted. What does she do to thank me? She steals everything I own even the damn food. What was sad was that I couldn't even cry. Honestly, I was all cried out. Here I was standing in an empty apartment as if I’d just moved here while she was somewhere selling my shit. I couldn't even take a shower because she had literally stolen everything I own, even my work clothes. Grabbing my phone, I called my best friend.

  “I need your help,” I said when she answered the phone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I really don't want to talk about it, but I need something to wear for work, and underwear.”

  “Say no more, give me twenty minutes,” she said hanging up. See that's why I fucked with her. I didn't have to explain shit, if I needed her she was there no questions asked. Exactly fifteen minutes later Camille was walking into my house.

  “Oh shit Shante! I thought she just stole your clothes and shit like last time,” she said with her mouth wide open while looking around. When she noticed me sitting on my floor she came and sat next to me, wrapping her arms around me she didn't say a word.

  “I'm just so tired Cammy, why she gotta be this way?” I asked as tears fell from my eyes.

  “I don't know boo I really don't,” she replied as she continued to hug me tight.

  “Sometimes I think about my life and why nobody loves me. I try to be a good person. I volunteer; I'm kind hearted, so why won’t God bless me, why don't I deserve love?” I balled my eyes out. This had to be the lowest that I’d ever been in a long time.

  “You are blessed Shante and you’re loved.”

  “Blessed? Is that what they call this? Look at my apartment. I have nothing and it was taken by the one person that's supposed to love me!” I snapped. When I say I was a mess I mean snot coming from my nose, hair all wild, and tears clouding my vision. My mom really outdid herself when she pulled this shit.

  “I know it may seem like it's never gonna get better, but he not done with you and I know that for damn sure, so get ya ass off this floor and keep pushing,” my bestie said before getting off the floor. I swear she never let me wallow in my pain and I loved her annoying ass for that. Grabbing the bag she packed, I headed to my bathroom to take a shower.

  As I took off my clothes, I realized I was spotting a little. Probably from all the damn stress my mom was putting me through. It was always something with her. If she wasn't stealing from me, she was stealing from someone else. I was forever paying her debts to drug dealers, or beating a bitch’s ass because she was sucking and fucking their drug dealer boyfriend for a couple of rocks. I have two older sisters and they said ‘fuck it’ and left me with her. Obviously, they couldn't deal with the emotional, sexual, and physical abuse my mom and her many so-called boyfriends put them through. They left when I was only seven, my oldest sister Shana was seventeen, and Angel was fifteen. I understood them leaving, but what I didn't understand was how they could leave me. I’m their blood, their baby sister, and it broke my heart the day I found out they’d left. The pain only worsened when I came to the realization in my young mind that they weren’t coming back, I was in this alone.

  I recently got back in contact with my oldest sister Shana through Facebook. Can you believe we had five mutual friends and I didn't even know it? She was right in front of me all these years and I didn't even see it. I messaged her and was relieved to see that she was just as excited as I was to have found each other. We’ve talked every day since reconnecting and I’m so ready to set up an actual meeting. I found out that I have two beautiful nephews and a gorgeous niece from my oldest sister Shana; she said my sister Angel has a daughter too. I feel like things are definitely starting to look up for me. I feel like I have a real family and people that actually care about me, unlike my mom. Don’t get me wrong, as excited as I am to have found my sisters, t
his whole thing is still weird to me. I’m excited, nervous and angry at the same damn time. It's been fifteen years since I last saw either of my sisters and even though my mother works my last damn nerve and I'm always complaining about the bullshit she does at least she’s never left me. I can always count on my mom to be the foul ass person she is. At least she’s consistent with her bullshit. Hell just last night some young girl came banging on my door talking about catching my mom fucking her man for crack. The part that fucked me up was how quick she was to fight my mom for her dude’s mistake, my mom doesn't owe her anything, he does, so why she was at my door was beyond me. I constantly beg my mom over and over to stop doing the things that she does. She's too old to be out here fighting twenty-five year old chicks. I swear sometimes I feel like the dumbest bitch on earth because even though I know she's living foul and constantly doing some of the craziest things to me, I always got her back when she ain’t never had mine. So of course, no matter if she was wrong I still beat the girl’s ass and sent her on her way.

  Snapping back to my reality, I looked under my bathroom sink to grab a pad and couldn't help the scream that left my mouth. I couldn’t believe that she stole my pads too, she literally stole everything. Good thing I kept pads in my book bag in case of emergencies. I couldn't do shit but shake my head and laugh. She’ll be back after she’s done poisoning her body and is broke again, and I wouldn't be surprised if I put hands on her ass on sight. Every day I was losing more and more respect for the woman that birthed me and it hurt me to the core. I got in the shower and let the hot water wash away some of my stress. After I was done, I grabbed the bag Camille brought me and she brought me everything I could possibly need. Deodorant, lotion, lip gloss hell she even packed makeup and I don't even wear that shit. I rubbed my body down with some of the cocoa butter, got dressed and headed to work with my bestie all while thinking this can't be fucking life.

  My bad, I done brought y'all into my drama without even introducing myself. My name is Shante I’m twenty years old and I am in my last year of college. Due to my awesome grades, I was promoted, so with hard work I was able to graduate high school at sixteen. I work at Torrid, a plus sized clothing store in the Cherry Hill Mall; I’m actually an assistant manager there. I have a good head on my shoulders; well at least I would like to think I do given all the obstacles I've faced. Unlike most people around me, I acknowledge the fact that I live in the hood. I embrace where I'm from, but this isn't where I want to spend my life, I refuse to be stuck here. Most people around here blame their downfalls and hard comings on where they’re from, claiming to be a product of their environment, but not me. I have dreams, goals and aspirations and I'm not gonna stop until I get there. I’m 5'9, 285lbs, size 18 jeans, 40DDD breast, beautiful dark brown eyes that I inherited from my grandfather, so dark that people mistook them for black. Luscious full lips accompanied by a gorgeous smile and a head full of thick dirty brown hair. I got a big ole juicy ghetto collard greens and cornbread booty. That stop traffic kind of ass. With curves not even a NASCAR driver could handle, yeah I was a "thick girl" "big girl" "BBW" whatever motherfuckers called chicks my size now a days. I could care less though I loved the little pudge I had and I was confident with my shit. I loved my size and so did most niggas but I wasn't worried about shit but saving up my money and finishing college. See I had my whole life planned to the tee. In a year I will have my masters in social work, yeah ya girl was doing her thing. I wanted to help the kids like myself who had no one to depend on. I wanted to be that person that I never had. My mom couldn't even make sure she paid her ten dollar rent on time. I never had clothes that fit right, and I often missed meals, which was one of the reasons I never missed school, at least I was guaranteed breakfast and lunch. I was made fun of by the popular kids because I was thicker than most and back then that wasn't a good thing. It didn't help that my clothes were tight as hell so even though I wasn't nothing but a size twelve back then, you would think I was a size twenty because of how tight my clothes were. My life was a living hell up until my last year of high school when I finally stopped giving a fuck about what others thought. I went out and found me the job I have now, got me an apartment out in East Camden when I turned eighteen, put my furniture and TV’s on layaway, and slowly but surely I busted my ass until I paid all of it off. I was proud of my accomplishments; there were chicks twice my age not getting it like I was. Which is why I'm so pissed and hurt that she would do that to me. She knew how hard it was for me to work all those hours while going to school. She knew how proud I was of that furniture. I was finally happy I didn't have to worry about strange men creeping into my room fondling me all at my mother's request and I didn't have to stress about where my next meal would come from. I was young but I was taking care of me. I started beating bitches asses at school and on the street, now they left me alone. They didn't have to be my friend or like me but I demanded respect, I only had one friend and a handful of acquaintances, but I was okay with that.

  Chapter 2

  (Shante)

  Camille was 5'5, 130lbs she was what most called a red bone, with hair to her ass thanks to her Spanish heritage. She had the biggest, prettiest gray eyes I’d ever seen. She was definitely a looker and she knew it. We were like night and day. She was short, I was tall. She was small, I was thick as hell. She was light, I was brown. She was always loud while I was quiet until provoked. We leveled each other out and I was the only one that could calm her little crazy ass down. See I was always used to Camille getting all the attention. Not because she was prettier than I was, but because her personality demanded attention. She dressed for attention, talked for attention, and fought for attention while I didn't mind playing the background. Shit what they say, gangstas move in silence, well that was me I was silent but deadly. My mom always told me she hated me because I was just like my no good daddy, mean and spiteful as hell. I would just laugh at her because I knew I was a nice person until fucked with. Knowing that my father was a hustler and the fact that he left me was all I needed to know to steer clear of any man who felt the need to risk his and his families lives just for money. I understand when you have no option and you need to feed your family, but there's too many men out here making a career out of the shit, and too many women content with being a hustlers wifey. My mother refused to tell me where he was or let me meet him but always talked about him whenever she was high, so as you could imagine, he was talked about a lot. I felt like I knew him, I just had to piece together all the info, so every time she told me something new I added that to my journal. What I got so far is my daddy was a rolling stone and a true hustler with his hands in a lot shit from drugs to guns and pimping. One night they were laying in the bed and he had this idea that they could bring in more money if they added some girls. Initially my mom was pissed, she didn't want any hoes around her damn man, but she eventually agreed because she knew that whatever my daddy tried his hand in, he excelled, and this was no different. He managed to find some of the baddest bitches between Jersey, NYC and Philly and he ran shit with an iron fist. He had three important rules: have his money on time, use condoms and don’t fuck with drugs of any sort outside of weed. When my mom got pregnant with me, he may not have known for sure whether I was his, but when I came out there was no denying that I belonged to him. I came out the womb with the same heart-shaped birthmark as him and in the same place. I know he loved me with all his heart and spoiled me, even though my mom says different. I was just a child but I remembered small things. After I was born, my dad made my mom stop tricking and moved all of us into a beautiful home even my two older sisters came and he treated them like his own. I was never a dumb girl so when I was three and my mom took me and my sisters to the house that daddy specifically said he didn't want us in, I was a little worried. I’ll never forget being watched by the other hoes until my mama got off. That night she came in, her and dad got to arguing about why she brought us here and why she was still tricking. I knew he was highly upset, next thing I re
member is being taken out of the bed before the sun came out and leaving with my mom. She said he kicked us out and didn't love me anymore. We ended up moving into a small low-income apartment in East Camden. I figured Camden is small as hell, if he really wanted to find me he would have, so she must have been telling the truth for once in her fucked up life. I just didn't understand, was I that bad of a person? Is that the reason why I’ve never had love? Is that the reason why everyone I love leaves?

  "Helloooooo bitch!" my bestie Camille said snapping me back into reality. I felt a lone tear slide down my cheek and I tried to hurry and wipe it before she saw and made a big deal out of it.

  "Girl where was ya ass for the last five minutes standing there looking stupid," she said while laughing. I couldn't help but laugh with her because she was right, I was definitely zoned out.

  "Bitch mind ya business I ain't got a choice but to zone out as much as ya ass talk!" I said with a fake attitude.

  "Whatever bitch. But foreal though my mom said you can stay with us if you need to, or at least keep your important stuff over at our house. Shit you right next door to us so it ain’t a problem," she said sincerely.

  “Tell mom I said thanks but I think imma get a mini safe from Walmart and put all my money in there from now on. Honestly though I’m done with my mom real talk. She even took a bitch pads girl, I’m too through with her,” I said getting pissed off all over again. Camille laughed which caused me to burst out laughing too. Leave it to my bestie to find humor in something so fucked up.

  "Bitch it ain’t funny. My life is fucked up and I’m tired," I stressed to her.