Little Miami Girl: Antonia and Jahiem's Love Story Read online

  Little Miami Girl

  Diamond Johnson

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  To submit a manuscript for our review, email us at [email protected]

  © 2016

  Published by Leo Sullivan Presents

  www.leolsullivan.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

  Acknowledgements

  First off I would like to thank God for even giving me the ability to have the talent of writing. I believe in Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me.”. This journey of writing has been a tough one, having to deal with school and work but it was all worth it in the end.

  To my amazing parents, thank you for believing in me as well and for not doubting me when I came to you guys with the idea of writing my very own book. I love you guys so much.

  Also, to my readers, I would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You guys constantly keep my motivated with the positive feedback. I appreciate the love that you all offer in the book reviews and even on Facebook. Without you guys, this journey wouldn’t even be possible, so I thank you.

  Lastly, to Mr. Leo Sullivan himself, I thank you for believing and me and pushing me so that I could know my worth. In the beginning, I was writing just to have nothing to be but you made me take it seriously and I appreciate all the words of encouragement that you have given me these past few months.

  Chapter 1: Antonia Taylor

  “Bitch, get your ass up out the bed and get ready for school!” is how I was greeted as my eyes popped open to my aunt’s deep voice and a pot of ice cold thrown against my body. This was what I had grown accustomed to. Every morning, it was the same routine. I was either slapped out of my sleep, yelled at, or had water thrown at me.

  I sat up in the bed and looked around the room that I shared with my three smaller cousins, who were still peacefully sleeping in their beds. I took one look at my aunt as she hovered over me and I did the same thing that I would do every morning. I prayed for her. I was living in a fucked up situation, but I knew for a fact that my present would not be my future, so the shit that I dealt with while living here, I took it. Yes, sometimes I wanted to just give up on life all together but I felt like that was for losers and I didn’t want to take that route.

  “And hurry the fuck up! Whatever the fuck you have to do, do it quietly so that you won’t wake up my damn kids!” my aunt barked at me, as I made my way into the bathroom, located in the hallway.

  I couldn’t for the life of me understand how someone could wake up miserable like this the first thing in the damn morning. I tried not to let the remarks of my aunt get under my skin, but the shit was way too hard, and it was becoming unbearable to deal with.

  Walking inside the bathroom, I turned the light on and closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. I took a minute to just stare at myself in the mirror and tried to think of something positive about myself to say that would make the day go by better, but it was just so damn hard. When you’re living in a house with people who absolutely hate you, continuously talk down on you, and make you feel like shit any chance they get, you start to believe those things. You began to think that maybe the things that they are saying about you are true.

  Maybe I am ugly. Maybe I will never make it out of Miami and get to make something of myself. A lone tear dropped from my eye and I quickly wiped it away. I forced myself to smile at the image looking back at me, which is Antonia Taylor. Boy, how I wish I was able to talk about the good things that has happen to me over the years, but if I did say anything good, Lord knows that it would be a damn lie. I was seventeen years old and a senior in high school. I attended Miami Northwestern Senior High school and lived with my aunt and her four kids.

  I noticed the bags under my eyes, which were caused by me having to work late nights and then catch a bus to come home and do homework. Which would leave me to get in my bed every night around one in the morning, and have to be up every morning at six, so I could make it to school by 7:20.

  My aunt told me that the only way I would be able to continue staying in her house is if I went and got me a job. Which is why I currently work at Chick-Fil-A in Aventura Mall. Sad part about it is my aunt takes my paycheck from me every two weeks and calls it my portion of the rent. Which wasn’t fair at all because her oldest daughter, my oldest cousin Porsha, lived there rent free. She was 24 years old, with no high school diploma, and all she did was sit around the house and fuck with me every chance that she got.

  I was in the living situation that I was in because eleven years ago my mother died due to a cocaine overdose. When I was living with my mom, the situation wasn’t any better. Only thing was, she didn’t beat me and constantly call me out of my name, but what she did was way worse. She would bring different men in the house when I was only six, and there were times when I went days without eating because she would be gone for days straight. So, my life had pretty much been fucked up since day one. My aunt had to be the one to step up to the plate and take me in because she was the only family I had left in this world.

  I quickly took my shower because if I was in there too long, my aunt would bust in and drag my ass out. Lord knows my body couldn’t suffer another shower beating. The last time, it was so bad that my aunt made me stay home from school so the teachers wouldn’t ask me how I got the numerous welts on my face. After I finished showering, I went back over to the sink to brush my teeth. When I finished, I walked out of the bathroom.

  As I turned the corner to go into my room, I was met with the strike of a belt against my back, which caused me to fall to the floor. I quickly backed myself against the wall and looked at my aunt with hurt filled eyes. She had a menacing look on her face as she approached me with the belt still in her hand.

  “Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you to clean up that damn kitchen last night?” she asked me, now standing directly in front of me and hovering over my body.

  My aunt was a big, scary woman, maybe about 225 pounds even. She kept a satin cap on her head at all times and had piercing black eyes that would make a grown man cower at the thought of her. She wasn’t an ugly woman, but the things she did to me on a daily, made absolutely nothing attractive about her.

  “I forgot. I didn’t get home from work until almost midnight, and I still had homework that I needed to do.”

  I cried because the stinging in my back was still there, and it felt as if someone had thrown a bunch of rocks at me. She had hit me with the metal part of the belt, and that shit hurt like hell.

  “Have my fuckin’ kitchen cleaned when you get home tonight, or the next time it’s going to be more than my damn belt connecting with your back,” she said and walked off.

  When I saw her disappear, I headed back into the bedroom that I shared with my three cousins. My aunt and Porsha would be home all damn day, yet they would wait all day until I got home so that I could clean the kitchen. Wow, talk about trifling!

  “Tonia, what happened to your back? You’re bleeding,” my little cousin, PJ, said when I turned around to look in my dresser for a pair of clean underwear.

  I was still in my bath towel, leaving the bruise exposed. I turned around and looked at my little six-year-old cousin, feeling so bad for the things that he was exposed to. My aunt treated him, nor her other ki
ds like she treated me but he still saw the things that took place around here, and that was nothing for him to be seeing at such a young age. Just like myself, I wasn’t supposed to come home from school when I was six to see my mom on the floor, on her knees, giving some random man head, but I still did.

  “Nothing, I slipped and fell. Lay back down,” I told him.

  Once I found a pair of underwear, I slipped them on and my bra. I went over to my dirty hamper and pulled out the same khaki pants and navy blue shirt that I had worn yesterday to school. When I finished putting on my uniform, I threw on my black converse, made sure that I had my work uniform in my book bag for work tonight and I was about to walk out the door, until I remembered that I still had my damn scarf on my head. I quickly ran to the bathroom, took off my scarf and immediately, my long, silky hair fell down my back. I grabbed a brush from out of the drawer and brushed my hair into a quick pony tail.

  Finally, with my book bag on my back and my two textbooks in my hands, I made my way out the door, disregarding the mean look my aunt gave me on the way out as she sat on the couch, watching the news. Honestly, the only time that I was able to disappear from the problems I had going on at home, was when I came to school. In fact, I loved school. For as long as I could remember, I have always been smart, even if I had no one at home telling me that.

  As I walked to school, I said a silent prayer, like I did every morning, asking God to help me get there safely. You see, we didn’t quite live in the best neighborhood, and every time I turned on the news, I would always see that there has been some sort of shooting, here in Liberty City. I walked these streets ever morning, hoping that one day I would soon make it out of this ghetto ass area.

  I made it to school at 7:10 a.m., leaving me with ten minutes to make the cafeteria to get the free breakfast. My aunt always made breakfast for her kids, excluding me, and I had become accustomed to that. After I had gotten my breakfast, I walked out of the line and that’s where I spotted my friend, Tacarra, sitting at the table with another group of girls. Honestly, Tacarra was my only friend, someone that I had known since we were in the first grade together. The other girls that she was sitting at the table with, I didn’t know, I just knew of them. I knew that they were considered to be the “popular girls” around school, and Lord knows that I didn’t fit in with them. I still made my way over to the table, since Tacarra was my friend, and I didn’t want to sit in this big ass cafeteria alone.

  “Hey Tacarra,” I said, with the biggest smile on my face, as soon as I neared the table.

  I watched as the group of girls took in my appearance and stared at me like I was beneath them. I sort of felt out of place because even in a school uniform, these girls made it look like they had just stepped foot from out of one of those expensive ass shopping stores. They all wore makeup and had designer bags, while I had my, pink Jan sport book bag on my shoulders, kind of weighing me down in the process.

  “Oh my God, Antonia. We had this talk already! You need to wear a new shirt every day to school. That is so dirty. Isn’t that the same food stain that you got yesterday from lunch?” Taccara asked me and immediately.

  The smile was wiped from my face. In a way, I was kind of used to Tacarra making slick remarks about me, but she normally did it when it was just me around, and she always said it in a playful way, making it seem like it was only a joke. This was someone who I had grown up with and who I actually considered to be my friend. I didn’t know where this whole new Tacarra was coming from, but I didn’t like it at all.

  The girls she was sitting with, busted out laughing, like she had just told the biggest joke of all time, along with a few others who had heard as well. I looked on with a hurt expression on my face and turned to walk away. I threw away my breakfast, suddenly losing my appetite, and quickly walked to the nearest bathroom. Once I got inside, I set my textbooks down on the dirty sink and grabbed a few paper towels, wet them and tried my best to clean the stain that I had gotten on my shirt yesterday at lunch. Excuse me if I couldn’t afford to buy a new shirt to wear to school every day of the week. The day was starting off bad, but I just prayed that it didn’t end this way.

  11:51 P.M.

  I had just gotten off the bus and was walking into my apartment complex. It was a busy tonight at work, and my body was physically and mentally drained. I walked with my backpack hanging off one shoulder, with both of my textbooks in my hands. I normally left my textbooks at home, but I had two tests tomorrow. So, I chose to bring them along and get some studying done on my lunch break and while I waited to clock into work, since I generally would get there about thirty minutes earlier.

  As I was about to walk up the steps, I noticed that there was a big commotion going on the middle of the parking lot. Activity like this was nothing new to me but suspicion got the best of me and instead of taking my ass up the steps like I should have done, I turned around to get a glimpse of what was going on.

  “Fuck you putting your hands on my sister for, nigga? You didn’t think that she would come and tell me that shit, you pussy? Stand your ass up and fight back!” the dude said as he stood over someone and continued to punch him in the face. The dude that was beating his ass, I could only see him from the back, but he looked and sounded like a person that you just didn’t want to have problems with.

  POW! POW! POW! Shots rang out, as well as police sirens and immediately everyone took off running, including myself. Those shots were from the police as warning signals for everybody to get their asses in the house. As I was running, I tripped and fell over a big ass rock that was in the middle of the ground, falling face first. I could feel two strong arms behind me, pick me up and run with me, even though the gunshots had stopped at this point. I didn’t even look to see whose arms I was in. At that point, I didn’t care, as long as they were helping me get away.

  When we reached the stairs, I was finally put down. I turned around and it was the same dude who was just beating the dude up for hitting his sister. I looked at him in complete awe, and I couldn’t help the attraction that I immediately had to him in just a matter of seconds. He had the perfect hazel eyes, and dreads that went past his shoulders that he had held up with rubber bands. He was the color of caramel and tattoos adorned pretty much every part of his body, starting from his neck. He wore a tight fitting wife beater that showcased his abs, and I could see the tattoos on his arms and chest. He stood at about 6’2” and my God, he was the sexiest person I had ever seen in my life.

  At the age of seventeen, I still wasn’t into boys like that, mainly mu school work. But this man standing in front of me had quickly changed my whole damn outlook on life.

  “You don’t need to have your lil ass out here at this time of night with all of this shit going on! You need to be in the house somewhere!” he said with a scowl on his face.

  As he talked, I could see that he had golds on both the top and bottom in his mouth. How could something so thugged out be so damn fine?

  “My books are still over there,” I said, looking down at the floor as I talked to him. A habit that I had developed over the years after having my self-esteem crushed. It made me ashamed and afraid to look others in the eye when I talked to them. I watched as he pulled up his sagging sweats and jogged over to where my textbooks had fallen and then came back with them in his hands. With an annoyed look on his face, he placed the books in my arms and looked down at me.

  “There! Now take your ass in the house!” he demanded and I quickly nodded my head and made my way up the stairs.

  He probably didn’t even find me attractive, and I’m pretty sure that after this, he would forget all about me. While, myself on the other hand, I would go to sleep tonight dreaming about him. I don’t know what it was but it was something about him that immediately drew me in to him. I knew for a fact that I would never even stand a chance with him, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

  Chapter 2: Jahiem Carter

  I played many damn games, but when it came to my fuckin’
family, that’s when all of the games fuckin’ stopped. When my sister hit me up and told me about that nigga putting his hands on her, I knew right then and there that I had to handle that situation because if I didn’t, then the shit would just continue to happen. All I had in this world was my mama and my older sister, Shaniqua, and I wasn’t about to let anybody fuck with them. I still had my dad, but he couldn’t do shit for us behind bars. I didn’t have the typical story of a nigga growing up in the hood without a father because that man had always been there, but three years ago he was sentenced to life in prison for killing a man who had the balls to rape my mother.

  You see, a lot of niggas in the hood couldn’t stand us Carter niggas, and to fuck with us, they would go around fuckin’ with the people we loved. It was only a matter of time before my father caught a case because he was living a dangerous lifestyle before he even went in, but damn, I always thought that if my father would be sent to prison, it would be on a drug charge, not for catching a damn body.

  I was hoping that he would turn over the plug to me so that I could be the biggest drug dealer to ever step foot in Miami, but my father didn’t want that lifestyle for me. It was different because when he was here, he used to let me do my little runs, pick up dope and money, but once he got incarcerated, all of that shit changed. I got a thrill out of that shit, but my father had other plans for me, which is why before he went in, he handed me over the keys to my very own tattoo shop.

  My father knew that I enjoyed doing tattoos, and when I wasn’t in the streets, I would literally have my homeboys come over to my house and I would do their tattoos in my garage. Since I was like nine years old, I had an eye for art, and I promise you if my father didn’t hand me the keys to this building, I knew that I would still be in these streets, trying to follow in his footsteps.