Miasha: Secret Society

The first book in the Secret Society series, 2006

Thank you, God, for my talent, abilities, opportunities, and ambition. Without any one of these I could be in a whole different place right now.

Rich, you are my heart, and Amir, you make it beat. I live for you two. Yall got me.

Mommy, what can I say…if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I love you unconditionally.

Daddy, you mean the world to me. God knows I am your little girl. If you didn’t teach me anything else, you taught me how to hustle. I love you for that.

Aunt Wanda and Uncle Jimmy, you two saved me-well, us. Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done any of what I did without your influence. You two have a special place in my heart.

Aunt Netta, Uncle David, Aunt Merrie, Uncle Blake, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Debbie, Uncle Neil, Dwayne, Aunt Paulette, thank you for being the most supportive family a girl can have. It takes a village, right? Well, thanks for being my village. And to the rest of my family, Robert, Tenika, Danyielle, David, Tiffany, Airis, Terrell, and Ajada, thanks for putting up with my crazy self.

To three of the most remarkable women I’ve ever known, Henrietta Campbell, Coretha Wicks, and Oneida B. Nelson, thank you for teaching me strength and showing me love. I’ve always looked up to you three and forever will. May you rest in peace.

My siblings, Blair, Quran, Cecil, Tyree, Shamara, Tiara, and even you Michael, I love yall to death and I want nothing but the best for yall. Listen, follow your dreams. They do come true. I’m proof of that. We all came from the same place, remember?

My in-laws Pam and PJ, you two are motivating. Thanks for your guidance and your acceptance. I’m proud to call you my family.

My critics and true friends, Rich, Aunt Debbie, Aunt Wanda, Quran, Teren, Kharla, Tenika, and Malikah, thanks for being real and encouraging at the same time. I know that can be hard.

My students Ashley Rodriguez, Marisol Thompson, and Kimberly Smith, you three taught me so much about myself. You inspire me. I write for you. I tell stories for you. I feel for you because it is you I relate to. And let me be the one to tell you, your life is not what was given to you but what you make it. For real.

Karen E. Quinones Miller, you are a blessing. Thank you just for being you, a genuine, thoughtful, and sharing person. I’ll never forget the speech you made at my graduation. After all, it was your story that inspired me to actually write my first novel. Not to mention, the extent to which you went to help me get it published. You’re something special, you know that?

Daaimah S. Poole, thank you for making yourself available and offering valuable advice. I see a true friendship ahead.

Omar Tyree, thank you for many things, but primarily for opening the door. You’ve been an inspiration to me from day one, and to have your support means a lot.

Mrs. Ali, it was you who gave me the initial steps to walk up. And look at me, I ran. Thank you.

Teri Woods, Luke and Teri Woods Publishing, thank you for being the first to say yes. I’ll always appreciate this journey that began with you.

Liza Dawson, I’m proud to call you my agent. Thanks for believing in me right away. You could have said I’ll call you Monday. But you didn’t, and by Monday you called-but only to tell me the results of the auction. How hot is that?

Cherise Davis, I swear you have to be the coolest editor in the history of publishing. I couldn’t have asked for anybody more delightful to work with. Thank you for everything.

Thank you to my publicist, Dawn, of Dream Relations. Your timing was perfect. It was God who brought us together, and with a force like that on our side we can’t lose.

Algie, thank you for being there once again to help me with some ol’ elaborate stuff. Thank you also Ed of Fatboy Media.

Keva, wherever you are in this big and crazy world, thank you for sharing your knowledge and experiences. Be safe out there-you hear me?

Thank you too, Krystal, Cassie, Markus, Global Recording Group, and Deja Vu.

Thank you to all the readers and supporters, booksellers, and book clubs. Thank you to everyone at Simon & Schuster.

And to anyone I could have possibly forgotten, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Ya girl,

“You know what, bitch? You fucked with the wrong one! I’m gonna kill you right in front of ya little boyfriend, and then I’m gonna kill him! You played the wrong card this time! You fucked with the wrong one!”

POP! POP!

It still haunts me after five months. I have constant nightmares about it. Sometimes I wish I had died. My life is so messed up now. It’s not even worth living. I can’t go anywhere. I can’t do anything. I just sit here and stare out the window until it gets dark enough to see my reflection in the glass. But then I’m too scared to see my reflection. The doctors took the last bandages off two weeks ago and I haven’t looked at my face yet. My psychiatrist, Ms. Carol, was there when they did it. She said I didn’t look too bad, but the tears in her eyes told me otherwise.

Ms. Carol was referred to me four months ago. She took a liking to me immediately. Said I was the child she never was able to have. It started out with her visiting me for an hour or two trying to get me to talk about my feelings. Then she started bringing movies, and her visits exceeded two hours. Now she comes by just to keep me company, and no matter how long she stays, I only need to pay for two hours, if she charges me at all.

She’s always trying to find ways to make me feel better. She calls like twenty times a day to check on me and she’s always so sweet. But truthfully, none of it works. No prescription drugs, no psychiatrists, no funny movies, nothing. The only thing that could make me feel any better is erasing everything from five months ago, from that night.

2001 was a hot year, right after the millennium. It had been a year and a half since I graduated high school and a year since I been workin’-workin’ niggas, that is. I was a fresh twenty. Most of my peers were in their second year or so at colleges across the country, and me, I was already in the workforce, making plenty of dough and not needing a degree to do it. School was sickening to me. The whole idea of having to be in a specific place at a specific time at the sound of a bell made me feel like somebody’s robot. I wasn’t into that shit. Plus, money was always more important than education as far as I was concerned. And when I thought about it, going to school didn’t pay your bills but instead it was another damn bill that your ass had to pay. That made no sense at all. So I skipped the college idea and invested my time in other interests.

My friend Tina had introduced me to a lifestyle I would have never deemed possible for me. She taught me something that most chicks already knew. Use what you got to get what you want. The only problem was chicks didn’t have shit. They may have had nice bodies or pretty faces, but they didn’t have the brains to mentally stimulate the niggas they were goin’ after. And if they happened to have all three, they were acidity, snobbish-type broads that niggas couldn’t stand to be around. But Tina and me, we had everything a nigga could ask for and extra.