Read Online The Glamorous Life 2 by Nikki Turner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nikki Turner
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mother wasn’t. A strong woman, who made her own money, controlled her own destiny, and depended on a man for nothing. She only wanted to be with a man because she wanted to, not because she needed him to be her puppet master to contribute to her survival.
Though she had not been with a man and had never experienced the real love of a man, she knew what she would accept and what she wouldn’t. It was simple like that. In fact she had started making a list. But having a boyfriend now was one of the last things on her mind, for now she had other responsibilities to take care of. Besides making sure her brother was taken care of, she wanted to make sure that she looked her best and felt her best. After all how could she have an above-average guy if she was subpar? So being the best Calliope on the outside and inside was the goal.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother’s scream.
“Calliopppee! Where are you?”
He never sounded this happy when they were with Shelly. Ever.
“Coming out the shower,” she called back to him. “Go make yourself a turkey and cheese sandwich while I get dressed.”
She heard his feet scurrying to the kitchen, and then his voice: “Gonna eat some chicken tenders instead. You want some?”
“Nope, but make sure you clean up your mess.”
Done toweling off, wearing nothing but her birthday suit, Calliope got an eyeful of herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Turned to the side then forward again. Returning her gaze wasn’t the reflection of a little girl anymore. Her breasts were already bigger than a lot of grown women’s, and they pointed north and got the attention of the North Star. And when she wore light Jean-Claudes, her butt turned the heads of teenage boys as well as grown men.
Her mother’s genes indeed … they weren’t all bad.
After a light dusting of MAC cosmetics, she put on Roberto Cavalli Jean-Claudes, and a white fitted Cavalli button-up shirt with cleavage peeking out. She slid on her strappy wedge-heel sandals, showing off her freshly painted pedicure. She was all set. Divalicious.
Compton was watching a rerun of The Cosby Show when she came down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” he asked as if she was his pimp.
“Out.” She kissed him on the head and he quickly wiped it away. “Please, clean up your mess. You know we don’t wanna hear Mabel’s mouth. And don’t leave out the house, okay? And if Mabel gets home before me, not that she’d ask, tell her that I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” said Compton, eyes back on the TV screen. “But when you get home Ima kick yo butt in Madden.”
“You wish you could.” She tossed a pillow at him. “I got the last lick and ran out the house.”
Inside the mall, hordes of people bustled about at frantic paces trying to cash in on the best sales.
Calliope hopped on the escalator to the upper level. Weaving back and forth, trying to dodge through the mobs of rabid shoppers, she slowed down once she reached the store that carried the Jean-Claudes that Mocha had ordered. Inside was no different than all the other spots packed like sardines.
None of their things were even on sale, not even on the first of the month.
The first thing Calliope did was scan her surroundings. The clerk: the same one from earlier. Shit, I thought this chick would be off. Three other girls walked the floor offering help to the people that looked like they couldn’t afford to shop there, making sure nothing got stuck to their fingers, or inside a boosting girdle.
No one paid Calliope any mind. The lick she was killing screamed money and good taste. Babelicious.
She strutted straight over to the product she wanted, no aimless wandering around—fake window shopping.
With three pairs of Cavallis along with the pair in her hand, tightly folded, and tucked into what was practically an empty purse, she walked around the store. She hid the buzzers she’d removed under some other clothing. A couple belts
Though she had not been with a man and had never experienced the real love of a man, she knew what she would accept and what she wouldn’t. It was simple like that. In fact she had started making a list. But having a boyfriend now was one of the last things on her mind, for now she had other responsibilities to take care of. Besides making sure her brother was taken care of, she wanted to make sure that she looked her best and felt her best. After all how could she have an above-average guy if she was subpar? So being the best Calliope on the outside and inside was the goal.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother’s scream.
“Calliopppee! Where are you?”
He never sounded this happy when they were with Shelly. Ever.
“Coming out the shower,” she called back to him. “Go make yourself a turkey and cheese sandwich while I get dressed.”
She heard his feet scurrying to the kitchen, and then his voice: “Gonna eat some chicken tenders instead. You want some?”
“Nope, but make sure you clean up your mess.”
Done toweling off, wearing nothing but her birthday suit, Calliope got an eyeful of herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Turned to the side then forward again. Returning her gaze wasn’t the reflection of a little girl anymore. Her breasts were already bigger than a lot of grown women’s, and they pointed north and got the attention of the North Star. And when she wore light Jean-Claudes, her butt turned the heads of teenage boys as well as grown men.
Her mother’s genes indeed … they weren’t all bad.
After a light dusting of MAC cosmetics, she put on Roberto Cavalli Jean-Claudes, and a white fitted Cavalli button-up shirt with cleavage peeking out. She slid on her strappy wedge-heel sandals, showing off her freshly painted pedicure. She was all set. Divalicious.
Compton was watching a rerun of The Cosby Show when she came down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” he asked as if she was his pimp.
“Out.” She kissed him on the head and he quickly wiped it away. “Please, clean up your mess. You know we don’t wanna hear Mabel’s mouth. And don’t leave out the house, okay? And if Mabel gets home before me, not that she’d ask, tell her that I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” said Compton, eyes back on the TV screen. “But when you get home Ima kick yo butt in Madden.”
“You wish you could.” She tossed a pillow at him. “I got the last lick and ran out the house.”
Inside the mall, hordes of people bustled about at frantic paces trying to cash in on the best sales.
Calliope hopped on the escalator to the upper level. Weaving back and forth, trying to dodge through the mobs of rabid shoppers, she slowed down once she reached the store that carried the Jean-Claudes that Mocha had ordered. Inside was no different than all the other spots packed like sardines.
None of their things were even on sale, not even on the first of the month.
The first thing Calliope did was scan her surroundings. The clerk: the same one from earlier. Shit, I thought this chick would be off. Three other girls walked the floor offering help to the people that looked like they couldn’t afford to shop there, making sure nothing got stuck to their fingers, or inside a boosting girdle.
No one paid Calliope any mind. The lick she was killing screamed money and good taste. Babelicious.
She strutted straight over to the product she wanted, no aimless wandering around—fake window shopping.
With three pairs of Cavallis along with the pair in her hand, tightly folded, and tucked into what was practically an empty purse, she walked around the store. She hid the buzzers she’d removed under some other clothing. A couple belts
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