Lipstick Diaries

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Foreword

  setting sun

  unfinished business

  sweet 306

  fittin′ in

  Prologue

  First Time

  Hangin’ Out

  Experimentin’

  18

  Free

  Mom

  birth of a gangster bitch

  two mothers

  Butch

  Yes Guy

  Rainbow Bike

  Slap

  foolish pride

  beautiful bird

  immersion

  greed

  Prologue

  Summer 94

  1986

  Last day of class

  Torture

  biographies

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright Page

  foreword

  Talk about a new phenomenon that’s taking over our streets, infesting our ghettos and seeping into the minds of our people. I’m not talking about any drug or disease. I’m talking about a new epidemic that’s breeding writers. A whole new crop of authors have emerged and are flourishing into major book chains, sitting proudly atop the shelves along with New York Times bestsellers.

  Street literature is an outlet of expression for African-American authors. It characterizes to some degree who we are as a race and chronicles our struggles in today’s society by incorporating relatable dilemmas and situations. It hits home to most street-lit readers because the storylines are organic and there’s an authenticity in the plots. You’ll find backdrops of our culture and heritage wedged in the lines of most novels with an underlining message or moral. This new genre, street literature, symbolizes growth and change. It not only strikes a cord with those who have experienced similar situations but it also enlightens those who have not.

  I came into the publishing arena as an author who self-published my first novel, Life, Love & Loneliness, which originally started out as a poem. I took the title and developed the storyline using my freestyle writing technique. In 2002, Life, Love & Loneliness was released and went on to hit the Essence bestseller’s list. I’ve since evolved into a small, boutique publishing company that released the #1 Essence bestseller: Wifey and the acclaimed follow up Still Wifey amongst other titles.

  Many people read my stories and ask if there’s any truth to the storylines or characters. I always say no. The truth is, I live vicariously through my characters and each character is a reflection of who I am, where I’ve traveled, and who I’ve encountered. There is a certain synergism between myself and my characters that I can’t deny. Does that mean that I’ve torn a page from my life and wrote about it? Absolutely not! All it means is that there’s a connection which allows me to write cinematically.

  Change and growth are so important. We achieve this by allowing new, fresh voices in the door. I feel that it’s my duty to kick open the doors for writers to come behind me and make their own accolades in this business. I put on my baseball cap and tightened up my laces a few years ago in a quest to pave the way for other authors to bum rush the doors. By no means am I saying that I’m a martyr or a pioneer. I am an enthusiastic catalyst for newer voices.

  There’s been chatter since 2003 that Hip Hop fiction is a fad; that it’s not going to last. Naysayers have gone so far as to compare it to black exploitation films in the 1970’s. These innuendos are the common thread that’s placing doubt, fear and insecurities in most authors thought process. I’ve observed that this generation of writers is often afraid to let others in because they don’t want anyone else to share the glory. Their insecurities overshadow their judgment. My belief is that you’ll always get what your hands call for. There is enough room in the publishing arena for everyone. If you are truly talented; you’ll sustain. So shake the tree and the weak branches will fall.

  The Lipstick Diaries is composed by an eclectic group of authors. Some stories have poignant, heartfelt storylines while others are raw and gritty. Either way, it’s an adventurous read. And you won’t know unless you give it a chance. I’m asking that you trust me and be prepared to stimulate your mind while reading through each story laced with sex, controversy and scandal. And who better to tell the tales?

  Did I mention The Lipstick Diaries is authored by a strong all women ensemble? Enough said…

  setting sun

  Justice Mejia

  Come,

  Meet with me

  At the place they call warm

  Plush, soft, and strong

  Show me how

  You differ; vices, virtues

  likes and dislikes

  Guide my time, your past

  Meet me at happiness

  Support, comfort and all

  Meet me at changes

  Growth and despair

  Drench me in laughter

  Experience and travel

  Gallivant with me

  In sand, water and moon

  Come -

  Meet with me

  At success, expansion

  Birth and family

  Meet me at Love.

  “Do you love me enough to move to Boston?” he asked.

  My eyes widened, the pen dropped from my fingers and I closed the book of poetry. We loved each other but I didn’t think someone actually wanted me for me. The trepidation was overwhelming.

  “Can I have a little time to think it over?” I asked struggling with my thoughts.

  My heart pounded loudly. I really wanted to say yes. The past had taught me that anything life changing was worth some thinking. I sipped cranberry with vodka and nestled my trembling body in the warmth of his multi-colored velvet blanket. Sebastian was painting a picture on a white canvas. I was eager to see the outcome of the fiery, red paint he was using but after couple sips, I fell fast asleep.

  The following morning I awoke and could hear him humming in the shower. I was still in the throes of stretching and yawning when I glanced up at it. The canvas was complete. I stared speculating what it was.

  I moved in for a closer look. Shapes appeared like the leaves of a jungle tree, forming three-dimensionally the longer I stared. I admired, then stepped back and noticed the painting seemed even redder. It’s like the setting sun, I thought.

  Sebastian finished his shower. He joined me, hugged and kissed me softly.

  “Good morning, my love, did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied blushing and turning my focus on him.

  “It’s for you,” he smiled and drew me closer. “You’ve always wanted me to paint something for you. I watched you sleep and that’s my inspiration. You’re beautiful, the sunset of my life that’s captured in painting,” he said pointing to the canvas. Rapture rushed me when I saw his gallant smile.

  “Thank you baby,” I replied staring in his eyes. The proposal for Boston reappeared and I turned away.

  I walked to the bathroom thinking how I’d met Sebastian. We were criminal justice majors and shared the same uncertainty about what we really wanted to do. I was leaning towards becoming a lawyer but changed my mind. I wanted to keep all options opened.

  Two years after we met, Sebastian was offered an incredible opportunity with a law firm in Boston. It was our senior year and they wanted him to start after graduation. Our relationship was nothing short of spectacular. Romantic and caring, me and my six-foot-one, black hair, light-complexion, Puerto Rican man were wrapped in deep conversations running all day long.

  I wasn’t one who trusted easily especially the men I dated. Sebastian changed that for me. We had many nights staying up talking about our past. My stories seemed to be littered with the fear of getting hurt. Sebastian helped me realize that getting hurt was par for the course
.

  “The easiest people to hurt are the ones we love,” he said. His strong hands cupped my face. “If you let me into your heart, into your world, sweetheart, I’ll protect it forever.” Sebastian promised, his eyes probing mine. The passionate kiss that followed was the confirmation; he really cared.

  It was a new day and my mind started to wander in class. Professor Smith’s lectures were never easy. He spoke in a monotone voice and seemed unaffected that most of his students were doing other work in his class. I started to think of Sebastian and his offer to leave New York.

  I enjoyed this city with its vibrant heart. Often I’d find myself in smoke drenched bars, quenching my thirst for nightlife. The beat was loud enough to drill life into you as well as out. Even the bartenders were entertaining while mixing new drinks. It was a show all to its own. Anywhere, at any point one could find a hundred people engaged in different conversations.

  My thoughts were adrift when Professor Smith loudly cleared his throat. I realized class was over when my mind washed ashore from an infectious fantasy. Packing my books I left the classroom.

  “Hey Justice…” I heard as I walked through the hall.

  I turned and saw Elizabeth, who for the last three years had been a dear, best friend. She was short with strawberry blonde hair and fair complexion, from a small town in Ohio. Elizabeth was naïve and kept me by her side so she wouldn’t be swallowed by the big city. She often studied with Sebastian and me. Her parents were well-off and this afforded her the luxury of staying at our college dorm, right in the heart of NY. Her apartment had an amazing view of Central Park.

  We were labeled the three musketeers and did everything together. Elizabeth didn’t have a boyfriend. Sebastian and I tried not to make her feel like a third wheel.

  “I’m starving, do you want to go to our spot and get a bite?” She asked.

  I had time before my next class so a bite to eat sounded great. John’s deli, our spot where we spent a lot of time, was just up the block. Elizabeth got a pepperoni slice and I got a sausage slice with extra cheese. Midway through our pizza, Sebastian slid next to me. He kissed me and waved at Elizabeth. She blushed. I blamed her fair complexion and the steam from her pizza. She always asked for her slice to be extra hot. Sebastian started with his usual stories. I listened because he had a great sense of humor. He found a way to make any bad day better.

  Later on that night we were all at Elizabeth’s dorm. I was so taken by the view of the park. I think I visited her often not just to study but because the view was enticing. My best poems were composed from the inspiration of the view.

  “Are you hungry?” Sebastian asked.

  I shook my head. Elizabeth and Sebastian were big eaters. They both needed a few hours in the gym. Instead, they ordered Chinese food and were eating while I started on a brief that needed to be fifty pages long. It was due tomorrow which meant it was going to be a long night. Elizabeth put on a cute playboy sleepwear. I thought it a little too short but I didn’t say anything. Sebastian changed into his boxers and T-shirt. I changed into my usual gray sweats.

  We were close and talked about everything. We had a lot of the same classes together, but Elizabeth and Sebastian had classes that I didn’t. Sebastian helped Elizabeth with her papers. At times I assisted them.

  When Elizabeth fell asleep, Sebastian caressed my shoulders and neck. I loved the touch of his strong hands. He kissed me and we got busy with the linguistics of his tongue. I still had about twenty pages left to write.

  “Sorry, baby but I really need to finish doing this. Tomorrow after work, pick me up at the store and we’ll go to Brooklyn. I’ll make this up to you.” I said kissing him softly.

  “Okay, good night baby,” he said.

  He went and slipped into the bed leaving me room when I was ready to join him. Elizabeth slept on a make shift bed on the floor. How lucky I was to have them both? I thought as I stayed up to finish my paper.

  My parents raised me to be independent. I was an honor student all of my academic years and got leadership awards from various clubs in high school. Even now while working two jobs to pay for school, I still found time to participate in the student council government and other clubs.

  I worked in retail because the hours were flexible and I received great discounts. I worked at nightclubs on weekends. I was dancing before I actually walked. I wouldn’t be able to breathe if ever I felt I couldn’t dance. My friends came to see me work my thing at Webster Hall, Velvet, Expo and Limelight. I loved the life and the ability to make others smile from watching me dance. I was raised in a strict home and dancing in some of the hottest clubs in NYC was my release.

  The heavy schedule of school and work made me exhausted. I eagerly waited to see Sebastian walk in the store. The minutes dragged. I was beaming when Sebastian came in carrying the most beautiful sunflowers. He handed me the bouquet.

  “Thank you baby,” I said with a smile wider than any seen in toothpaste commercials. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, meet me by the employee exit.” I quickly signed out and proceeded to be checked by security.

  I hugged Sebastian tightly as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Finally I’d met the right person.

  “Are we going straight home, baby?”

  The question snapped my drifting thoughts.

  “Yes!” I replied.

  No papers to write tonight, I couldn’t wait to get home and have a quiet evening at home with my boyfriend. When we arrived, I dropped my purse on the table and looked for the vase. Of course there were none in his bachelor pad. I made use of an empty bottle and put my sunflowers in water. Sebastian stood behind me and slowly kissed the back of my neck. He took my hand and extended it outward to the side until our fingertips met.

  “I love you. Come with me.” He whispered.

  I faced him and kissed him. He wanted to say more but I put my index finger across his lips. Our lips stayed locked and I became lost. There was nothing wrong in the world. We were now intertwined between the sheets. Soon he’d warmed me up from the slight chill of fall in full bloom.

  Sebastian slipped inside of me. My fingers clawed the air. I needed to hold on to something. The anger of his deep, pelvic thrusts was unmatched. Spreading my legs wider, I relaxed and gave in to his wrath. Beads of sweat formed between his chest and mine. He sucked my lips, his drink of love intoxicating me. My body collapsed in pleasure and I drifted into sleep.

  The next morning, I awoke by his side. Despite the prospect of a long day ahead of me, I snuggled in his arms. Friday, I had classes and the club later in the night. I also needed to come up with a plan for his birthday the following week. I jumped up, got dressed, stuffed a bagel in my mouth and kissed him goodbye. Lucky for him, his first class wasn’t until the afternoon. He was on full scholarship and didn’t have to work so he could sleep in. Besides time with me, Sebastian spent a lot of his spare time painting and attending various club meetings.

  At around noon, I met up with Elizabeth at our spot after breezing through my morning.

  “What do you think I should do for Sebastian’s birthday? It’s next Thursday.”

  She blotted the grease off her pizza with a napkin then looked up at me with a pensive look.

  “I don’t know. You know him best.” She responded in a tone that sounded like I was bothering her.

  “Are you ok Lizzie?” I asked.

  “I’m fine!”

  It didn’t sound like she was but I left it alone. I was almost done with my chicken cutlet sandwich. Elizabeth had already polished off her pizza.

  “Studying famous trials and recreating mock juries is such a great learning experience.” I said as we rushed off to one of the classes Elizabeth and I shared.

  After the class I headed home. I wanted to take a nap before work. I called Sebastian as I usually do. We discussed our day. Our schedules were opposite on Fridays. He always mentioned missing me. I got home, fell in a great nap and dreamt about exactly what I was going to do for Sebast
ian’s birthday.

  I awoke at nine pm and had to be at the club by eleven. I jumped in the shower, changed and raced out the door to catch the train. By the time I had arrived, the club was packed as usual. I walked around greeting all the staff and fellow dancers. Working together was so much fun. I was scheduled for three forty-five minute sets and the rest of the time I could party.

  I’m not certain if it was the music or the feel of my new fishnets, but something kept the smile on my face. The night was especially vibrant. My first set took place on the main floor. I was dancing on a platform where ropes hung from the ceiling. I twirled the rope a few times, jumped on and rolled with it as it unwound. The red silk bra and short black Lycra shorts I wore not only made me feel sexy, but also outlined my assets.

  The night progressed with a few vodka shots during my break. I felt even more energy to dance. I hit the dance floor and battled other dancers. I was on top of my game and in my own world when I was dancing.

  Four a.m. came quickly. I clocked out, changed and pulled out some money for a cab. Exhausted, I arrived home at five and immediately fell asleep.

  Saturday I awoke to my ringing phone. It was Sebastian asking if he could come over. I told him yes. He could help me run some errands in the neighborhood and I reminded him I was working tonight. In the bathroom, I realized he hadn’t called me at five this morning. He always called to check if I got home okay. Sebastian probably was just too tired to wake up and call, I thought brushing it off.

  We lived only a few train stops away from each other and Sebastian was ringing the doorbell. I opened the door and he scooped me up, swinging me around while giving me a great hug.

  “I missed you last night. How was the club?” he asked.

  “Amazing,” I replied smiling. “I made great tips last night. Baby, you didn’t call when I got off. What were you up to?”