Hooker to Housewife

Hooker
to
Housewife

 

 

 

 

 

Also by Joy King

Dirty Little Secrets

Joy King

St. Martin's Griffin
New York

 

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

HOOKER TO HOUSEWIFE
. Copyright © 2007 by Joy King. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

 

www.stmartins.com

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

 

King, Joy, 1978-

Hooker to housewife / Joy King.—1st ed.

   p. cm.

ISBN-13: 978-0-312-35408-4

ISBN-10: 0-312-35408-8

1. African Americans—Fiction. 2. Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction. I. Title.

 

PS3611.1582H66 2007

813'.6—dc22

2006051191

10  9  8  7  6  5

This book is dedicated
to all my industry chicks who
are putting in that overtime trying
to go from Hooker to Housewife.
I see you. I wish you the best of luck!

 

 

 

 

Wow, I'm back again for part two. Where do I start? Of course, thank you to my family, I love you. I especially want to thank my mother, who is my biggest supporter. You're always willing and ready to read my stories and to give me your honest opinion—I do so appreciate that.

To my true friends, you know who you are, because I don't have that many (smile). I truly adore you.

Monique Patterson, I'm trying to hit one out of the ballpark this time. Only because of your expertise is it even possible for me to say that. My gift is highlighted because of your talent—thank you.

Much love to Marc Gerald and everybody at St. Martin's Press; Emily Drum—girl, I miss you!

To all the book clubs, vendors, and retailers, I greatly appreciate your giving a rookie in the game a chance to shine.

Finally, but most important, my readers—you're the best!
When I received tons of email from people who read
Dirty Little Secrets
it touched me in a way that's almost unexplainable. You embraced Tyler Blake as if you knew her personally, and that means I did something right when I wrote that character. For all of you who didn't get it—oh well. But seriously, hugs and kisses to everyone who supports my work, because if the readers don't embrace me, then I might as well put the pen down. For my previous booklovers and my new booklovers, thank you for joining me on yet another journey. So sit back and prepare yourself for what I hope will be the ultimate ride!

Hooker
to
Housewife

2000, Southside Chicago

“Chantal, time to
get up,” Mrs. Morgan said in her usual chipper voice. Chantal could never decide what annoyed her more, the sugary sweetness in her mother's voice or having to wake up early to attend school. She felt lucky knowing today was officially her last day in high school. After graduation Chantal had big plans and none of them included having to hear her mother tell her it was time to get up.

“Dear, you're going to be late, now you really should get up.” Mrs. Morgan lightly tapped Chantal's shoulder under the blankets.

“Ma, I heard you,” Chantal said shrugging her arm. “Now can you please leave my room? I don't need you standing over me when I get out of bed.”

“Okay, but your breakfast will get cold if you don't hurry up.”

“Please, don't wait for me. I ain't eating that fattening shit anyway. I have to watch my weight because I'm going to be a star, and
my hips don't need to spread no further.” Chantal mumbled under the covers.

“What did you say, dear? I couldn't quite hear you.”

“I said I'll be out in a minute.”

“Oh good, then I'll start fixing your plate.”

After another five minutes Chantal finally pulled herself from under the covers and stepped out of bed. When her feet touched the floor the first thing she noticed was that she was in desperate need of a pedicure.

“Damn, I don't feel like polishing my toes. I'll have to go to the nail salon.” Chantal smacked her lips and walked over to the dresser drawer and took out her wallet. She only had thirty dollars and that was barely enough to get her hair done for the graduation ceremony. “Ain't this some shit?” Chantal tossed her wallet on top of the dresser and grabbed what she needed before heading to the bathroom.

After a few minutes in the bathroom Chantal exited, dressed and ready to finish her last miserable day of high school. When she entered the kitchen she noticed her mother reading her daily chapter from the Bible. Chantal knew for a fact her mother had read the Bible front to back at least six times and never understood why she would start again from the beginning when she had finished. Her father, of course, was reading the classifieds in the local paper, looking for yet another job. He already had two but insisted on having a third part-time job.

“Daddy, you still looking for another job?” Chantal said as she sat down at the table. She observed the plate her mother had prepared for her. Pancakes with tons of butter dripping down the sides, greasy maple-smoked bacon, and eggs with cheese, but there was much more cheese than eggs. Chantal turned her face away from the food and picked up her orange juice and sipped on that. At only eighteen, Chantal had already envisioned what her life would be like in the near future, and it didn't consist of eating the plate of fat her mother placed in front of her. Although she grew up on what many would consider the wrong side of the
tracks, Chantal still felt superior to everyone around her, including her docile parents. Chantal would often reflect on the biblical phrase her mother would quote about highly regarded leaders who did positive deeds to uplift the community: “Many are called, but few are chosen.” Chantal derived her own meaning from the phrase; that many women wanted to be born beautiful, live a life of wealth and privilege, and marry the man of their dreams, but only a select few would seize all three. With Chantal's gleaming honey blonde hair, her sun-kissed bronze skin, flawless features, and a body no man could resist, there was no doubt in her mind that she was one of the few who were chosen. Chantal felt that no one, including her parents, understood her determination for reaching greatness. Instead of people viewing her attitude as confident, they called her stuck-up and arrogant. Chantal's parents would constantly tell her to be more humble, but she ignored them. Chantal had already made up her mind. No one would stop her from living her dreams.