I Gave Him My Heart
BY: Krystal Armstead
Copyright © 2016 Krystal Armstead
Published by Racquel Williams Presents LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright laws. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person dead or alive, events or places are purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Dedication
To everyone who has ever been abused, misused, or misunderstood, I want you to know that I understand your pain. This book is for you.
Acknowledgements
My thoughts are all over the place as I sit here and try to think about each and every person that I want to acknowledge. I have wanted to write all of my life, and to be given the opportunity to do so is so surreal, even after publishing ten books. I have heard people tell me that I am their “favorite author,” something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. To work among some of the greatest authors alive is a blessing and a truly humbling experience. Alright, let me get to the point before I get all emotional; y’all know I’m a crybaby!
Of course, I have to thank my homie, Racquel Williams, for taking me underneath her wing. Without her, none of this would have been possible. This is my moment, and best believe, I’m gonna take it!
I would like to also thank my girl, Ashley Williams, for motivating me each and every day. I met her just five months ago, but I feel like I’ve known her forever! We’ve clicked from day one. I appreciate her far beyond words.
Robin Watkins, girl, what can I say about my boo? She is among the few people I know that will give it to your ass straight, whether you want to hear it or not! People need that type of person in their lives, who’s not going to sugarcoat anything to make you feel better. First, we were only homies; now, she is my PEN SISTA! I am so proud of you, boo! We’re in this shit together now, girl!
I can’t forget about my homies in my reading group, Krystal’s Motivation. Michelle Neal, Shanicia Jackson, Elysia McKnight, Octavia Carter, Glenda Daniel, Nicki Ervin, Kasey Smith, Monique Franklin, Fallon Hampton-- these are my motivators! There have been days where I was too sick to get out of bed. One of them would message me on Facebook or text my phone, asking me “where the hell is my book, Krystal?” Even when I feel like giving up, even when I’m crying my eyes out over the daily stresses in my life, this crew always manages to put a smile on my face. I appreciate you all. There are too many to name, but just know I appreciate the love.
Thanks to my mother and father, Jennifer and Conrad Artis, Jr.
I’d like to thank my cousins, Latrese Washington, even though she has “deemed me uncousined” a few times! Muah! Love you, Cuz!
This book is also for my four beautiful children, Jada, Adrian, Jordan, and Angel. A life without you four is not worth living.
This book is also for my beautiful step-children, Jamie, Jasmine, Anglie, and Little James. I love you all like you are my own. Never forget that.
And last, but definitely not the least, my husband, my best friend, my jerk, my asshole, James. We stayed together through situations that were meant to rip us apart. The only way from here is up, boo. Let’s go get this moneeyyyyyyy!
Thank you all for your support. Thank you God for the opportunity. A’ight, y’all, let’s do this
Prologue
New Year’s Eve 2016
Kourtney Marie Chambers
“This party is going to be off the fuckin’ chain tonight! Whoot!” Pretty’s simple ass pranced around Mi Tinta the morning of New Year’s Eve. She was too turnt, thinking about how much fun we were going to have that night at the grand opening of Bébela, my very own bar on the beach of Punta Cana. All my girls from Goldsboro, North Carolina flew in for the festivities. Not to mention, my new crew from Baltimore. I missed G-Boro my crew. I’d been so busy helping Nina and traveling the world with Nina and Ricque for the past year and a half, that I’d forgotten how to live my own life. I had just begun to spread my own wings and venture out on my own. Though I had my house in Punta Cana, I had just bought a house in Pasadena, Maryland. And I had yet to tell Nina that when I left the Dominican Republic, I didn’t plan on coming back for a really long time. I would let my girl, Chelsea, run my bar while I was away, but I had to leave Nina. I was getting too dependent upon her, so much that I was starting to live in her shadow.
“Kourtney, girl, let me borrow that white skintight dress you wore the other night to the club.” Yandi nudged me at the counter. “I ain’t got shit white to wear tonight.”
I grinned at her, shaking my head. “Nah, you ain’t about to fuck up my shit, stretching it all out of shape with them big-ass hips you got. Not to mention, you don’t know how to give shit back. Letting you borrow something means let you just have that shit.”
Yandi rolled her big, hazel brown eyes. “Just stingy.”
“Sis.” Nina came out of the back, holding my cute little baby niece in her arms. Nina’s bodacious body bounced back in no time after having that little angel. Nina still looked like a chocolate Playboy bunny, shit, better than them bitches. Nina was a tomboy at heart, but she was the only girl I knew who could make a wife-beater, sweats, and a pair of Nikes look sexy. Her hair was up in a white-girl messy bun. She was just chilling in the back, with her baby, waiting for Ricque to fly in from New York. He was out on tour, and Nina couldn’t roll out with him that time. Their baby had an ear infection and flying wasn’t safe for her. Nina took Princessa everywhere with her, though she had two nannies. I think losing London made Nina a little paranoid about leaving Princessa behind.
Princessa was six-months old and the prettiest baby you could ever see. She looked just like London, with the laugh and smile to match. She had her daddy’s bright hazel eyes and curly hair, but that temper of hers seemed to be like Saint’s already. She didn’t take no shit. When she said she didn’t want any got-damn peas, you better not put that shit on her plate, or that plate was flying against the wall.
“Lemme see my baby!” I squealed as Nina walked towards me with my niece.
Princessa smiled up at me, giggling, those cute little rabbit teeth gleaming.
Nina watched me laughing with her baby. Nina was feeling some type of way about me. She said that she was happy for me, but I knew she didn’t like the fact that I was branching off on my own. For as long as she could remember, we had done everything together. I don’t think she really understood my need to be independent. The only time we had spent apart in the last thirty-three years of our lives was the time when she lived in London. I had to learn to spread my wings without her help, and she needed to do the same.
“Aye, Nina, your nigga, Saint, is outside the shop in that got-damn clean-ass Maserati.” Country-ass Tatyana came through the shop doors, dressed in skinny jeans and a tight Aeropostale t-shirt.
“Nah, bruh, that’s Kourtney’s nigga.” Pretty nudged Nina, winking her eye at .
Nina rolled her eyes, taking her baby from my arms.
I rolled mine, too. “Y’all bitches are so messy, I swear. That’s why we left half of y’all asses back in Goldsboro. Always starting shit.”
Nina looked at me, curious as to why Saint was coming to see me. “What’s going on with you and Saint?”
; I looked at her, bursting out laughing, looking at that semi-jealous look on her face. “Girl, bye!” I laughed at her. “You already know Saint was swinging me by the bar to check out the food that his cooks were making tonight for my guests. You really feeling some type of way about this, Nina? I mean, Saint did put up like seventy-five percent of the money to pay for this bar. Without him, none of this would have been possible.”
Nina looked at me like I lost my mind. “Wouldn’t have been possi—” Nina cut herself off, taking a deep breath before saying, “I don’t feel any type of way about you going to him for the money instead of asking me, boo. Nah, I’m good.”
I sighed. “Boo, I had to do something without your help for a change. I can’t depend on you forever.”
Nina disagreed. “Yes, you can, sis.”
Ugh, I wasn’t going to let her have me in my feelings that day. I was supposed to be happy about venturing off on my own, not guilty about not including her.
“I ain’t about to let y’all have me in my feelings today. Today is gonna be a good day. The sun is shining, I’m about to rock the shit out a sexy-ass white dress because my bitch-ass period ain’t on, and I’m about to open my very own club! Whoot!” I threw my arms in the air, reaching for the ceiling with excitement.
My girls cheered me on.
Nina smiled, shaking her head. “Go on now; go meet’cha boy. We’ll see you later on tonight, boo.”
“Nina, you better be at my place by 6:00. We’re gonna have a get-together before the limos arrive to pick us up at my place.” I hugged my sista around her neck and then kissed my baby niece on her cheek.
Nina smiled a little. “As soon as Ricque gets here, I’ll make my way over there, sis.”
“A’ight. I’m holding you to that, Nina. I’ll catch y’all later.” I waved at my girls, walking around the counter and towards the door. It was bright and early that morning, and customers would be rolling up in a minute. Most of them were dudes. I’d admit, we had some of the flyest girls working at our shop, including the few that we brought with us when we left Goldsboro a year and a half earlier. Most came to see big booty Nina, trying their best to get next to her. They knew Ricque’s ass was crazy about her, but you know niggas will try their luck just to see if a bitch will let him get lucky. Ricque had Nina’s head gone. Her heart had been his since the ninth grade. But despite how much she loved Ricque, she couldn’t tell me she didn’t feel anything for Saint. That nigga loved her, though he kept his feelings for her suppressed for obvious reasons.
Saint hadn’t stepped foot in that shop since the day of Nina and Ricque’s wedding, a little over a year ago. He stood outside of the shop, standing alongside the curb. He was dressed super-duper fly as normal, standing there in a suit intricately designed and tailored by his cousin, Kirsten Sanchez. He wore a sky-blue dress shirt, with a beige, brown, and sky-blue stripped silk tie around his neck. His shirt was loosely tucked inside of these crisp chocolate brown dress pants. Chocolate brown leather shoes covered his size ten and a half feet. His jet-black curly hair was looking lovely as ever. He’d cut his dreads off a year and a half ago and started growing his hair over. It had grew back thick as ever, often worn grazed against his shoulders. That day, he had it out. He always laughed when I called him Sampson. Sexy ass muthafucka. I don’t care how much my cousin denied her feelings for him; I kept my distance from him. She’d often crack jokes about the two of us hooking up, but I knew better.
“Hey, boo.” I walked up to him, dressed in a black crop top and skinny jeans.
Saint grinned, watching me walk up to him. “Que pasa, mami?” I walked into his arms. He gave me brief, tight squeeze before letting me go.
“Nothing much, handsome, gorgeous nigga.” I watched him grinning.
Saint looked at me before glancing back through the windows of the shop behind me. He looked back at me. “How is she?” he asked.
I looked at Saint, who hadn’t said so much as a hello to the girl since the day she married his brother. I grinned at Saint’s still-sprung ass. “Why don’t you go in and ask her yourself?”
Saint looked at me like I was crazy. “Nah, I’m good.”
I hadn’t seen him in a minute. Not since about a month ago when he helped me pick out the color for the marble for the men’s bathroom at my bar. He was constantly out of town on business. That nigga was into some of everything. He had businesses everywhere. Once Saint got a hold of his father’s inheritance, there really was no stopping him. Drug manufacturing and distribution was Saint’s calling. He had plants in just about every continent. He controlled the streets of the Dominican Republic, not to mention the government who ran it. He stayed out of trouble because he gave a piece of what he earned to any business or government entity that would cause him any problems. He donated to just about every major charity, including a few of his own. He built several orphanages. Not to mention, he had assembled a special forces team with several police departments around the world to rescue children from child prostitution and child abuse. He wanted to make sure children worldwide did not go through the hell that he was forced to endure as a child. Saint was a Saint; I don’t care what anyone says.
“So, how was Puerto Rico?” I asked him, watching the wind whisper through his curls.
Saint grinned. “Perfecto. Beaches, beautiful women, money to be made—what could be better? I got some much-needed vacation time. Not to mention, I went by and visited Stephen’s family.” Saint watched me exhale deeply at the sound of bae’s name. “I went by his grave and gave my respects. I left his mother and little sister with a couple stacks. His mother said she needed new brakes on her ride. I was like, nah, you don’t need new brakes; you need a new ride. She loved the burgundy Ashton Martin.” Saint watched me grinning.
I shook my head at him. “You are just too much, boo, I swear. What you’re doing for Stephen’s family, for the neighborhood kids, for everyone is amazing. I’m so proud of you. But while you’re taking care of everyone else, who the hell’s taking care of Saint?”
Saint shook his head at me. “Nah, I’m good. I got me.”
I shook my head back, watching him look me over a little. “Really? A brutha as fine as you needs to be settled down with someone. I know you’re focused on that paper, but there are just some things that money can’t buy.”
“Well, who do you suggest? There is not one woman I know that wants a nigga for me. All women see when they see me is money.” Saint watched me looking him over from head to toe, shaking my head at how fly he was.
I laughed. “I mean, come on now! Look at how you dress! Name one thing that you have on that costs less than five hundred dollars, Saint! Try turning it down a notch. Wear some got-damn sweats for a change! Show the bitches something else besides your wallet. Not every girl cares about all that shit, Saint. You had a girl who liked you for you once, remember?”
Saint glanced over my shoulder.
I looked over my shoulder too, looking back through the windows of the shop at Nina laughing and joking with our girls. Then, I looked back at Saint, whose eyes had glossed over a little.
Saint looked back at me.
I sighed. “There’s more out there like her, Saint.” I lied through my teeth, knowing my sista was as real as they come.
“Where?” Saint scoffed, looking at the three females who walked by us, winking at him. He looked back at me, not paying them any mind (probably because he’d already had a few pieces of their pie already). “I’m back on my no-love shit, Kourtney. I think it’s better like this, ya know? This way, my heart stays intact. I don’t have time for this heartbreak shit. I can’t deal with is, Ma. Shit got a nigga cryin’ and shit. I saw all but one of my siblings die and a nigga didn’t shed one tear! But as soon as I saw Nina trying on that wedding-dress—” Saint cut himself off, probably reliving the moment in his head. “I just can’t deal with it, Ma. It’s not for me.”
I nodded, knowing the feeling. “I feel you, bruh. I’m tired of these bitches I
work with always trying to hook me up with niggas and shit. I don’t have time for the love shit either. They’re trying to hook me up with your nigga, Timothy Knoxberry. And can you believe they even suggested that we—you and I—hook up?” I rolled my eyes.
Santiago looked at me, like he was thinking to himself for a minute.
I looked him over a little, contemplating the idea of being with that sexy, beautiful bronze man. Yeah, right. Me and him? Please.
He must have been thinking the same thing.
In seconds, we burst out in laughter.
Saint hit the ‘unlock’ button on his key ring. He walked over to the door of the passenger side, opening up the door for me. I grinned at him before getting into the warm leather seat of his ride. Saint shut the door behind me.
“Eso es divertido; that shit is funny.” Saint laughed to himself, sliding into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him. He looked at me, revving the engine to his white Maserati.
I agreed. “Shit, you ain’t never lied.” I buckled my seat belt. Oh, it smelled so good in his car. No, wait, that was his ass smelling like a bottle of Gucci Guilty cologne. “You know that shit would never work. And besides, you be puttin’ that Latin Lover shit on them females! Have them bitches going crazy as fuck. If the dick makes ‘em act that damn stupid, I don’t even want it, bruh.”
Saint laughed out loud. “Hablas demasiado; you talk too much. Got too much fuckin’ mouth. And I’ve seen how ya treat ya niggas. You do niggas dirty. I don’t got time for that shit.” Santiago shook his head to himself, balling off, down the street.
I resented that. “Nigga, what? And you’ve got too many bitches, muthafucka. I can’t even tell you how many hoes come up in the shop looking for your ass, having the nerve to ask Nina where you are! Your dick got these bitches acting stupid for real, fighting over you at the clubs and shit! That bitch, Helena, who works down at the strip-mall blew up my customer, Rhianna’s car a few weeks ago! The bitch could have gotten blown the fuck up over some dick, and you think the shit is funny!” I watched Saint laughing at how stupid women are. “You got these bitches sprung! You been on fuck-these-hoes status ever since Nina dissed your ass.”
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