A Tour Thru London pt. 1: When it All Falls Down

By Sheneka Lawrence and Destine London

A Tour Thru London is based on a true story about the life of London Destine. After London moms dies when she's only ten, she finds herself searching for love, acceptance and all the things she misses from her mom. She falls in love with men, women, drugs and money. Her fate is in her hands, as she seeks redemption. A story about life, love and hope

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9780615711232

Book preview

Chapter 1: Memories

The deafening noise outside my window echoed through the thick walls of my spacious, one bedroom Miami studio. The Miami Heat had just won the finals and crowned the NBA champions, and I had the luxury of joining in the celebrations and basking in their glory. Millions of fans dashed to the streets in a frenzy, screaming, Let’s go Heat!, Let’s go Heat!" For a moment I wanted to join in the festivities, but cardboard boxes surrounded me and all I could do was wonder how long it would take before I unpacked all these huge boxes sprawled across the floor. Soon I mustered all my strength as I picked up one of the hefty boxes labeled ‘Journals’. It had been years since I had written in one, or even read past one. What exactly was I holding on to? Why did I even pack them? Was it a coincidence that I had noticed this particular box? I picked up the purple, old, journal and began flipping through the almost yellowed pages. It was cold, wrinkled and musty-reminding me of phases of my life; page by page, filled with so much heartache and pain. As I read, the memories kept flowing, memory after memory, each detail brought tears to my eyes, enough to make me weep as I began reading the first page.

March 17, 2007: God, why am I here? Why is this my life? I know that I can be doing so much better. I’m so scared, so afraid, and so lonely. I know that my mom would turn over in her grave if she saw me like this. My nights are so long and my days are so short, and, sometimes I feel like death is the only answer. I had everything that I ever wanted, but, in the blink of an eye, it all changed. You changed it, God. You! I feel like you are punishing me. I am so angry and so ashamed of who and what I am. I wish I could erase my past and start all over again. I know that when I get out of here, I am going to be something great, something wonderful, and something beautiful. At least, that’s what I hope. I want to start my own business, open a store, and prove to my mom that I can be somebody. I want my dreams to come true. Please God, save me! Love, London.

I closed the journal immediately. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to read another page but I couldn’t; I didn’t want to think about what I had been through. I know it made me stronger and I know my past gave me a better present, but, reading that first page took me right back to the spot where it all began.

Chapter 2: A Motherless Child

In the beginning, I loved life. My life seemed really hopeful, but it all changed. I met money, and money met me. I dreamed money, I loved money, and, I was determined to do anything for money. I didn’t want to be just an ordinary bitch; I wanted to be the extraordinary bitch and the only way to get what I wanted, and how I wanted it, simply meant that I would be different from everyone else. You see, a 9-5 job was just not my style. I wasn’t in for all that slave labor and getting a minimum wage that couldn’t buy a pack of weave let alone to pay my bills. Growing up, I saw my mom working the same long hours; she would come home, take care of my three sisters, and me and then get back up every morning to do the same thing over and over again. Not me! I couldn’t work for anyone if it wasn’t for myself. I had different plans for Ms. London, and I wasn’t going to stop until all my dreams came through. My life got so screwed up because I didn’t have the right kind of guidance and love that little girls should have. I was a motherless child, and my dad was dead too. I wished my daddy were alive when I was growing up. If he were, probably he would have been able to teach me the way a man was supposed to treat a woman, which explains why most, if not all of my relationships ended up ‘fucked up’ because I didn’t know what to expect from a man, and how a man was supposed to treat a lady. I had to take my chances growing up in a house full of bitches and, being the second to oldest meant I had to set examples. But, with the life I was about to live, I wouldn’t be the one to be setting any example. Not me. The funny thing is, I had the opportunity to be a ‘woman of class’, but, instead, I wanted to be a woman with ass, money, and luxury. People always wonder what makes a person do the things they do or behave in a certain way, and, I feel that it’s because of the things we go through in life. I know for sure that our experiences shape us and make us who we are. That I can testify to. But, what exactly fucked me up and made me what I once was? Well, things took a tragic turn when I turned ten years old. While most fifth graders spent their time playing outside, combing doll babies’ hair or riding their bikes, I, on the other hand, spent my fifth grade school year watching my mother suffer and eventually die. Her life ended so tragically that I’ve actually created a mental block on the events leading up to the cause of her illness and her final demise. I actually forced myself to forget the sad events because they were putting me through so much torture and emotional pain. All I remember is, one day we were all laughing and having fun, then, the next day my mom was in a wheel chair, sick, sad, hopeless and dying. I mean, I had two wonderful grandmothers, but no one could ever replace my mom. So, when she died, I felt like an orphan. Well, when you look at the bigger picture, I was an orphan. I didn’t care about life, friends, family, school or love. And I didn’t feel that anyone cared about me either, well, except for my grandma. All I wanted was money. Money was my drug and I needed money to deal with the pain. I lived by one motto and that was, ‘ the more money, the less problems.’ And, I had a million and one ways to get it.

Chapter 3: The Fast Lane

Around 10th grade, shit got really fun for me. I was a full-grown woman and loving it. I had been through so many dicks, friends and foes that I had lost count. I didn’t give a damn about life because life didn’t give a damn about me. I realized I loved money more than I loved myself. Life became exciting for me, like a carnival, only I was riding every ride! By this time, the money was coming fast and easy. I was sixteen but I could pass for a twenty one year old. All I needed was an ID, and with that, I could do anything. I could lie, steal, trick, and even rob with my fake ID. I remember the first time I walked into the strip club. My heart was racing so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was shaking so badly that the club owner asked me if I was cold, then, I handed him my sister’s ID and told him I needed a job. And, that sealed the deal for me. I was willing to do anything as long as money was involved. School wasn’t my style because I was living in the fast lane and I didn’t think I’d ever crash. Who needs school when you’re living in the fast lane? Dancing was my life, it was very exciting and I loved how both men and women admired my body. It made me feel very special, very safe and very secure. I wanted to explore life and I wanted to live on the wild side. The side where dreams turn into reality, where niggas and money come easy, and where you dance on a pole all night, get laid by a dude and wake up with a stash of money in your hands. There was nothing that I wasn’t willing to try. Nothing! So, I dropped out of school and educated myself on how to make money. That’s all the education I needed. I learned very quickly that I needed three things: fuck, suck, and save. With those three things, I knew that life would be a slice ‘ a cake. I could easily be a millionaire by the time I was thirty. I had everything a 16 year old could imagine; no school, no responsibilities, a bunch a niggas, money and a whole lot of fun. And, even though I wasn’t an adult, I was doing what grown folks would never even dream of, let alone do.

I met this nigga named Gino at the Rolex. I was wearing a leopard thong and I was topless the night him and his friends walked in. My breasts were firm and perky with tattoos plastered all over them. When he walked in, I knew I had to have him. Then, I saw him, sitting at the far corner of the bar checking me out. He lusted with his eyes and I knew right then what he was thinking, he was imagining me sitting on his dick. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him. My whole body started shivering, I could feel my nipples harden and my pussy becoming soaked. My heart was racing a mile a minute and I knew I had just met the man of my dreams. I took notice of his swagger as he walked over to my table. He was fine as hell! He was wearing a Coogi Leather coat and some Timberlands. His head was bald and shiny, with a mouth full of shimmering gold teeth and colorful, symbolic tattoos all over his body. My type, I thought. " Hey, can I get a lap dance, London?’ he asked with a sexy grin. When he called my name, I could feel myself melting. Something about him turned me on. I don’t know if it was the way he bit his bottom lip, or the rubber bands around the stash of money he pulled out. But, there was something special about him that I liked; I knew I was going to fuck him tonight!

I mean, there were other men that I could talk to, but, I just didn’t want any man, I wanted this man, this nigga! He had money, and, I needed it. I had to get paid. If it wasn’t about the money, then, I didn’t want anything to do with it but everything to do with him. So, I held my composure. At first it was hard because I didn’t want to appear like a hoe or a gold-digger. Everybody already thought I was anyway, but who the fuck cared what these hoes thought of me? They were some trifling broke ass hoes whose opinions didn’t count. I was out to impress Gino, and that was all that mattered. I gave myself a few weeks and my fine ass would be driving this nigga’s car. Bet that shit! He was handsome, but at the same time he seemed every inch an asshole. To me, he was just a simple nigga who sold drugs for a living and had nothing else to do with his money. Well, he had met the right bitch. He didn’t have to look good anyway because money was what attracted me. Even if he came rolling in a wheelchair or was missing a leg, as long as he had the stash, he had me! End of story! He seemed like a low-life who would do anything to get inside my panties, and I was the right hoe who’d do anything to get his money. Little did he know just how easy it would be once he showed me the money? I walked over to him like I was the shit and tried to pretend like the stacks of money he was pulling out was all too familiar and didn’t even matter. But the truth was, he didn’t even know that I had never seen so much money in my life. I was happy, nervous and excited at the same time, just hoping his stupid ass wouldn’t read my mind. Damn, what kind of weed was this nigga selling? He pulled out at least 15,000 from his pocket. I quickly sat on his lap and started grinding extra slow. What the fuck! Which nigga walk around with so much shit in his pockets? Man, you better believe that my mind went into overdrive. That money, maybe not all, but that shit was mine, and I was going to get it by whatever means necessary. I was ready to suck his dick; balls and ass dry of every dime. Well, strange enough, the club had rules, and, one of their rules was…. no touching. I guess that that ‘rule’ didn’t necessarily apply to the niggas that were breaking bread, and Gino was that nigga. He whispered in my ear and asked me if he could take me to the back of the club. That was all I wanted to hear, he didn’t have to say it again. He must have been reading my mind ‘cause as soon as the DJ switched the song,