Love and War in the Concrete Jungle: No Inhibitions…No Regrets

By LuBrenda Turner

The spitting image of her father, Jasmine, a chubby little girl with kinky, thick locks of hair and big brown eyes, always felt out of place in the presence of her family, especially in fashion conscience New York City. To Jasmine, life simply was not fair. Her older sister Pat, the beautiful daughter, could eat what she wants and not gain an ounce, whereas Jasmine had to watch everything she chucks, or endure her mother Bernices condescending comments about her weight.
Regardless of Jasmine's accomplishments , her mother knew exactly what to say to bring her down. Thank GOD she could rely on her father, her faith, and her friends for comfort and support, but most of all to assure her that like her sister Pat, she also was relevant.

By most standards, Jasmines best friend Cynthia would be considered an average looking female, but she knew how to work a crowd. She had a way of making the opposite sex, and at times the same sex, feel excited at the thought of being in her presence. Having spent most of her adult life avoiding commitment, Cynthia did and said whatever she wanted, with no inhibition and no regrets. And should the opportunity present itself, she took lovers like most men did, with unbridled passion and no commitment.

In spite of her gay brothers insistence of their bonding in commiseration, Cynthia, refuses to engage. She wants nothing more than to forget the ills of their childhood. Shed much rather focus on the pre-foster care era of their lives, because as bad as it was living with an addictive mother, it was even worse being thrown into the debacle that was Child Protective Services.
With inner strength, spirituality and love, the women prevail while living in the concrete jungle, with no inhibitions and no regrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496974815

LuBrenda Turner

LuBrenda Turner, a native of Florida, moved to New York, and then to New Jersey, at the age of twenty one. At various stages in her life she was a college student, a HRS representative, data converter, court stenographer transcriber, and a full-time care giver for her ailing mother. She began writing as a catalyst to relieve the pressure of surviving in what she perceived as the concrete jungle of the city. Her literature is based on her true life experiences. Lubrenda’s raw, spiritual, and humorous delivery of her novels renders her on the level of some the best authors in her genre. She now resides in Atlanta, Georgia area.

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© 2015 LuBrenda Turner. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7480-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7482-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7481-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015903783

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 You Dropped A Bomb On Me

Chapter 2 A Woman’s Worth

Chapter 3 Good Girl

Chapter 4 Wreaking Ball

Chapter 5 Get High, Screw The World

Chapter 6 Welcome To The Jungle

Chapter 7 God Is Trying To Tell You Something

Chapter 8 I’m A Survivor

Chapter 9 Puppet Masters

Chapter 10 A Family Affair

Chapter 11 It’s Friday Night

Chapter 12 I’m Going Down

Chapter 13 Locked Up

Chapter 14 There’s Been A Murder

Chapter 15 Driving Miss Daisy

Chapter 16 This Is A Man’s World

Chapter 17 It’s Not Personal

Chapter 18 The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

Chapter 19 Guilty Until Proven Innocent

Chapter 20 To The Left

Chapter 21 Cleaning Out My Closet

Chapter 22 Crazy In Love

Chapter 23 Me Against The World

Chapter 24 Love The Way You Love

Chapter 25 Dangerous

Chapter 26 Cold Case Love

Chapter 27 Love Don’t Live Here Anymore

Chapter 28 No! No! No!

Chapter 29 We Are Family

Chapter 30 The Cartel

Chapter 31 Open Letter

About The Author

DEDICATIONS

This novel is dedicated to my parents, Lucille Bryant and Norman Turner, my biggest fans. I also would like to acknowledge each and every one of my family members and friends. Thank you for your love and support. Last, but not least, I would like to thank the FATHER, for without his blessings, this novel project would not have been possible.

CHAPTER 1

NEW YORK

JULY, 2014

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YOU DROPPED A BOMB ON ME

JASMINE

My ideological delusions of the perfect relationship vanished the moment I discovered my fiancé Tony’s infidelity. Though blatant signs of deception were evident, I inadvertently stumbled upon my dismal reality by a twist of fate.

Ironically, six months prior, my life could be described as, for lack of a better word, fabulous. I recently acquired my Masters in Marketing Degree, was promoted to a senior management position at Microsoft and, subsequently, purchased a beautiful home nestled in an upscale community in Manhattan. Moreover, I was in the midst of planning the most important event of my existence.

From the ripe old age of ten, which was the moment I concluded that the male species were not accumulatively repulsive after all, I dreamed of marrying the love of my life in an elegant ceremony at the exquisite Waldorf Astoria in Midtown. My prince would rescue me from the evil world of unscrupulous dating, and then the two of us would ride out under the moon light to live happily ever after. Why not, I rationalized. It happened for Cinderella, didn’t it?

In order to afford my excessive nuptial budget, I was forced to take a part-time job. Nevertheless, your wedding day is one of the most prevalent events in a woman’s life. Most of us would do just about anything short of murder to plan the perfect wedding—I was no exception.

For the first time during my post adolescence existence, I felt complete. Never could I have imagined that within a matter of hours, my life would spiral into an abyss of utter destruction.

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It was a bone chilling evening in December when it arrived, the emotional storm that is. It was in the form of an incoming call. With scornful pleasure, Lisa, my evil nemesis, informed me that she was sleeping with my man.

The news of Tony and his ex’s love affair cut like a knife, especially considering that my life revolved around emotionally, as well as financially, supporting the cheating scoundrel. The situation was a surreal nightmare. Apparently my mother Bernice’s analogy of her future son-in-law was correct, as she often stressed.

Sweetheart, Tony is no more than a canine in heat, and you know what they say, if you lay down with a stray dog, you wake up with fleas!

Feeling drained and defeated, I considered my options. Could I weather the storm, perhaps? More importantly, was it even worth my efforts? Trying to build a solid relationship with Tony was like making a huge commodity investment, only to realize you have been bilked by your trusted broker. It’s just my luck to fall in love with Tony Robinson, the Bernie Madoff of boyfriends.

Hours earlier…

After Tony and I arrived home from a late night dinner at Barletto’s, located on the West end of the city, we concurred that the temperature inside was almost as frigid as the outside. In spite of our arctic environment, Tony removed a chilled bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge and then adjourned to the bedroom.

I, on the other hand, made a mad dash to the thermostat, cranking it up much higher than the recommended seventy-two degrees. Tony’s deep, sexy voice resonated through the walls.

Babe, where are you? I popped the cork on the bottle of wine I took from the fridge. You and I are going to enjoy a glass of vino, snuggle under the covers, and then rub noses like the Eskimos. He laughed. Grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet and let’s get this party started.

Ironically, the raw, emotional anger Tony and I harvested during the past few weeks appeared to have dissipated like a fog, clearing the horizons. In a playful mode, I shuffled into the room and then plopped down onto our mahogany bed. Tony quickly seized the glasses.

Woman, give me those before you drop them, he teased.

After enjoying several glasses of wine, we both laughed hysterically as we watched Steve Harvey’s HBO stand-up special entitled, ONE MAN. We concurred that though it was one of Steve’s first comedy productions, it was by far the iconic comedian’s funniest material.

Tony’s favorite part of the DVD was Steve’s rendition of a Caucasian employee being fired as opposed to an African American. Of course, my preferred joke was Steve’s hilarious advice concerning how a woman can build herself the perfect man.

Moments later, feeling amorous, Tony and I snuggled close, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation. It was my first opportunity to spend quality time with my man in weeks; therefore, I was definitely thirsting for a little TLC. A romantic hiatus was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Glaring passionately into my eyes, Tony wrapped his strong, masculine arms around my waist, drawing my body closer. With one hand, he held my face tenderly, relinquishing a sensual, deep throttle kiss that left me breathless. With the other hand, he proceeded to ever so lightly stroke my wet spot.

My lover’s hot, sensual touch ultimately ignited a burning fire within my erogenous zones that had been long forgotten. When I thought that his orgasmic titillation couldn’t get any better, ever-so-gently, he proceeded to maneuver his thick, moist lips on a hot and steamy journey from the core of my eagerly awaiting nipples to the tip of my tingling toes.

Yes…oh…yes, I moaned seductively. Umm…right there…don’t stop, I purred, trembling in anticipation of Tony’s next stop on his sensual journey. Incapable, as well as unwilling to resist my man’s sexual stimulation, I simply closed my eyes, basking in the moment.

Umm…It doesn’t get any better than this. I pondered.

Just when I thought nothing could spoil my erotic pleasure, the phone rings. Exasperated, I glanced at the caller I.D. It was Lisa, Tony’s ex. Her distracting calls to our home in the late night hours had become extremely annoying.

Normally, I would object to Tony’s giving another female our number, however, due to extenuating circumstances, I made an exception. It seems that his and Lisa’s son, T.J., was recently diagnosed with Acute Asthma. According to his pediatrician, the toddler’s condition was categorized as life threatening, which required extensive medical attention. At least that was the explanation given each time Tony rushed out of the house to meet Lisa. I inhaled deeply and then released the trapped air within my lungs before answering the call.

Hello, Jasmine and Tony’s residence, may I help you?

Let me speak to Tony! I chose to ignore Lisa’s rude demeanor. It was obvious the witch was psychotic.

Apprehensively, I watched as Tony exited the room to take the call. As he spoke into the receiver, his normally vibrant voice was a mere whisper. An overwhelming sense of betrayal began to seep into my suspicious psyche. The advice I received from my beautician-slash-gay friend Eugene lie heavy on my mind.

Sweetheart, there is no way in hell I would allow my man to reach out and touch his ex without my being present. I would not give a damn if she was Mother Theresa, her ratched ass would have to relay a message through me. I have two words for you Jasmine, speakerphone and eavesdrop. Believe me, the lovely Miss Eugenia is impartial to both, he laughed.

Storming into the den, I observed Tony placing his hand over the receiver in an obvious attempt to muffle the sound of my voice. Within a matter of seconds, my anger intensified to fury. I lashed out!

Listen Tony, I have had enough of your bull and Lisa’s offensive demeanor. I suggest you convey to her that I’m the captain of this ship. If she wants to continue to call my home, the two of you better damn well give me the proper respect!

Tony’s eyes jittered in anger as he glared intensely in my direction. Removing his hand from the receiver, he spoke close and directly into the mouthpiece.

I’ll be there in about twenty minutes! Tony then proceeded to slam the phone onto the receiver. In an instant, he was on his feet.

Look Jasmine, what is your problem? My son’s mother does not have to bend over backwards and kiss your ass in order to consult me regarding our child!

Snatching his keys from the table, Tony headed for the door. I followed suit. The sight of his back turned, and the thought of how easily he had dismissed me, fueled my anger.

Where in the hell do you think you are going? I demanded.

Tony turned, halting so abruptly that I literally stepped on his heels. The expression displayed on his face was that of utter contempt. Piercing eyes met mine as he retorted.

Excuse me?

His barbaric demeanor boggled me. In spite of my anger, for a brief moment, I regretted my actions. However, at this junction, it was too late. Tony and I were past the point of no return. The issue of he and Lisa’s boundaries would need to be addressed tonight. Prepared for battle, I placed one hand on my hip, bobbing my head boldly from side to side as I returned fire.

You heard exactly what I said, sweetheart! Evidently, you have forgotten that this is my place. I do not have to deal with your ungrateful, arrogant ass! Every time Lisa calls, you go running like a love sick puppy. Well, I have had it. If you walk out of that door tonight, do not bother to come back. His voice filled with rage, Tony countered.

You are correct Jasmine, this is your house. How can I forget when you remind me every damn chance you have? I hope that your precious possessions can keep you warm at night, because I refuse to be your personal punching bag. I’m out of here!

I watched in dismay as my fiancé, the future father of my children, stormed through the front door, and perhaps out of my life. Confused, I struggled to understand the method to Tony’s madness. In spite of his denial, he was obviously still in love with his child’s mother.

Moist droplets slowly trickled down my checks. I proceeded to press the power button on the MP3 player remote control. Beyoncé’s song, "If I Were A Boy," bellowed from the speakers. I began to sing alone softly.

you don’t know how it feels

To lose the one you wanted—

because you are taking her for granted,

and everything you had is destroyed.

Moments later…

The piercing ring tone of the phone interrupted my vibe. I made a mad dash to answer the call in the hopes that it was Tony calling to apologize. Instead, it was the last person I expected to hear from—Lisa.

Club music blasted in the background, forcing her to yell into the receiver. In an attempt to conceal my despair, I made a conscientious effort to emanate a tone of utter bliss.

Hello, Jasmine speaking. Lisa’s contemptuous, high pitched voice bellowed from the receiver.

Is Tony there? Riled by the caller’s identity, as well as her offensive tone, I snapped.

No Lisa, he’s not, but I am glad you called. We need to talk. She smirked loudly.

About what?

About the fact that I do not appreciate you calling my home at ridiculous hours claiming that you need to speak to Tony regarding his son. Do you honestly think that you’re fooling anyone with your childish games? In case you are confused, newsflash—Tony and I are engaged. You need to stop acting like an irate juvenile and respect our relationship. Her voice expressing cynical amusement, Lisa retorted.

Woman please, you are delusional. Tony has no intentions of marrying your dumb ass. Do you actually think that the two of us spend every minute of our time together discussing his son? She laughed. "Yeah right, we do a lot of pillow talking—on your canopy bed, Bitch! She mocked before disconnecting the line.

After hearing Lisa’s harsh rhetoric, I felt blindsided. The last thing a woman in love wants to hear is that her man is a cheat. I mulled over the possibility of salvaging Tony’s and my relationship. Was it even worth the effort? I had no idea.

In absolute denial, I moped around the house in a stupor, trying desperately to convince myself that Lisa’s lying ass orchestrated a phantom affair between her and Tony solely to destroy our relationship.

In spite of my dismissiveness, subconsciously, I knew there was validity to Lisa’s accusations. After all, how could she possibly have known the décor of my bedroom unless she was actually in my home? Oddly, I needed to hear a rebuttal from Tony. The magnitude of his disrespect propelled me into a state of perplexity. My demeanor quickly elevated from disbelief, to denial, to sheer anger.

Tony had crossed the line into utter insolence. How could he so blatantly disrespect our home? He actually had sex with another woman in my bed. Did he even bother to change the sheets? The thought was repulsive.

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CHAPTER 2

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A WOMAN’S WORTH

JASMINE

From the moment Tony introduced us, I predicted Lisa was trouble. I had the displeasure of meeting her shortly after Tony and I began dating. She was a tall, striking female with beautiful attributes, yet she had no class whatsoever.

During our first encounter, Lisa was in rare form. Apparently, she was riled by Tony’s audacity to invite some stuck up bougie chick into her home. Glaring repulsively at who she perceived as her latest competitor, Lisa scolded.

Tony, I warned you about bringing your whores around my baby.

Well aware that Lisa’s vulgar behavior was the direct result of her jealousy as well as her lack of scruples, I gently touched Tony’s arm.

You were right, sweetheart, this chick is crazy. I’ll wait for you in the car. Lisa moved in closer, confronting her snobby adversary.

Yes, whore, that’s a good idea. Get the hell out of my house! My cool, calm demeanor quickly dissipated.

Who in the hell do you think you’re talking to, you ratcheted hag? I may not be a hood rat like yourself, but do not get it twisted. I am not too much of a lady to kick your skinny ass! Lisa reached over and pulled an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter.

Bring it, bitch!

With his arms extended wide in the persona of a referee breaking up two fighters in the ring, Tony quickly stepped into the middle of the mayhem. He proceeded to snatch the intended weapon from Lisa’s firm grip.

Give me that bottle and sit your crazy ass down!

I pushed Tony aside in an attempt to make my exit. My eyes flashing with fury, I glared manically into my belligerent aggressor’s angry eyes.

Tony is right, you really are a nut case! Gripping my arm, Tony demanded I stay.

Wait a minute, Jasmine, stay here! He then diverted his attention to Lisa.

Listen woman, I don’t have time for your bullshit today. Where is my son? Go get him now. His demand fell on deaf ears as Lisa maintained her combatant stance. Tony glared into her manic eyes.

I swear, if you don’t stop acting like a fool, I’ll cut off those damn child support payments and take your sorry ass to court for custody of my kid! Teary eyed, Lisa cried out.

Tony, how can you be so cold? I thought once our son was born, we could be a family. He eyeballed his beloved child’s mother as if she was an extra-terrestrial being.

Are you serious? I made it clear from the beginning, before you so conveniently got knocked up, that you and I could only be friends with benefits. Our relationship was strictly platonic. Lisa locked her arms around his body, crying hysterically.

Tony, please don’t do this. I love you!

In spite of her offensive behavior earlier, I felt a momentary pang of sympathy. I gently tugged Tony’s shirt sleeve.

Sweetheart, you should not speak to her in that manner, she is still the mother of your child. Lisa lashed out.

Shut up, bitch. I don’t need your sympathy. This is between Tony and me!

Having reached his limitation of tolerance, Tony grasped each of Lisa’s slim arms. Glaring into her fiery eyes, he spoke sternly.

I do not have time to deal with your craziness today. Where is my son?

Lisa strutted angrily out of the room. Moments later, she emerged from the back, carrying T.J. perched on her hip. His small, hazel eyes lit up when he saw his father. Lisa placed the toddler into Tony’s arms, muttering lightly.

That whore better not touch my baby. Tony snapped.

Talk…talk…talk…that’s all you ever do, Lisa. Shut the hell up!

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The sound of a car door slamming interrupted my abstraction. With haste, I scurried to the window. To my disappointment, it was our neighbors coming home from a late night event.

Once more, the tears began to flow. It was evident Lisa and I had exchanged roles in Tony’s life. Frustrated, I yanked the linen from my bed, tossing it into the garbage canister. Afterwards, I poured myself another glass of wine and then soaked in a warm bath.

Several hours later, I awoke to find myself alone in the darkness, practically submerged under water. After wrapping my damp, shivering body in a cotton robe, I made myself comfortable on the couch in anticipation of Tony’s return. I was dying to hear what he had to say for himself.

Perched high on a mantle across the room was a photograph of Tony and me. It was taken on the night that we eagerly consummated our union. The thought of that hot, passionate evening impelled me to smile….

It was around 10 p.m. when I rolled up to Club 50/50, a popular night spot in the city that is owned by a local rapper. The parking area was almost empty, but most people didn’t arrive until well after eleven.

Though I parked near the entrance, which was a no parking zone, I was not overly concerned. The usual slew of security officers was nowhere to be found. And who could blame them? The meteorologist had issued a weather warning for the tri-state area. The storm was predicted to consist of clouds so dense, and winds so fierce, that anyone with an ounce of reason would seek shelter. Entering the building, I scanned the club in search of my best friend Cynthia, to no avail.

She’s late as usual, I muttered.

Taking a seat at the end of the bar, I casually glanced at my watch for no other reason than to send a clear message that unlike some of the females in the club, I was not there to pick up a warm body for the night, but rather to meet an acquaintance.

In spite of my efforts, a few male patrons attempted to engage me in conversation with offers of free drinks, which I found offensive. As a child, Mother had always warned me about men who come bearing bribery gifts. Besides, my plan was to make my excuses to Cynthia and her guest and then quickly exit the building. Clearly, forming new friendships was not on my agenda.

Tonight, my only desire was to snuggle under the covers of my new, comfortable canopy bed—alone. Nonetheless, I did promise my best friend that I would meet her at the club.

A promise is a promise, I sighed. Oddly, in spite of the wicked weather conditions, Cynthia was adamant that we meet.

Jasmine, the storm isn’t scheduled to arrive until early morning. You will have more than enough time to make it home before it reaches the city. You know I would not ask if it wasn’t important, she pleaded. Still, I had a weird feeling my friend was trying to set me up with another one of her robotic blue blood friends from her precinct.

After sipping the same drink for nearly an hour, I speed dialed Cynthia’s cell. The call went straight into her voice mail. I was prepared to leave my excessively late side kick a nasty message, but at the last minute I changed my mind. Frankly, I was happy she stood me up. I was in no mood for socializing. Speaking into the receiver, I made a half-hearted attempt to sound perturbed.

"Cynthia, where are you? I have been waiting at the club for over an hour.

Oh well, I am going home. Call me when you receive my message."

As I stood to leave, my keys slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. A tall, somewhat handsome male with pearly white teeth proceeded to pick them up. Displaying a sexy grin, he casually hand them over. I hesitated.

Do you want my hand to fall off? he asked. I recognized the line from an old Diana Ross and Billy Dee Williams’s movie, LADY SINGS THE BLUES. In spite of myself, I blushed as I reached for the keys. Gazing into his mesmerizing brown eyes, I responded.

Why thank you. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all.

Though neither of us said another word, a sense of familiarity swept over me. Perhaps we had crossed paths previously. Although Mister Chivalry did not fit my usual dating protocol, I was in awe of his alluring, manly appeal. When I managed to gain my composure, I made an awkward attempt to squeeze through the narrow opening his masculine body allotted.

To my surprise, he followed me to the door. I was all prepared to give him my Sorry handsome, but I’m in a committed relationship line, when he asked me a question.

Can I get a ride to Brooklyn?

My superficial admiration for the intriguing stranger quickly revolved into utter condemnation. In an instant, I switched to attack mode.

How dare this clown try to hustle me of all people? Surely he could have found a gullible female in the club who would have fallen for his weak game—I am definitely not that girl. I grumbled inarticulately.

The fact that the stranger seemingly ignored my cold demeanor and actually waited for a reply angered me even more. Having firmly placed my index finger on the button of my pepper spray, I responded coldly.

And your transportation issue is my problem because? Before receiving a response, I lashed out.

You have a lot of nerve expecting me, a perfect stranger, to accommodate your sorry ass. And furthermore, do I look like a cab driver to you? The overly confidant stranger now appeared completely discombobulated.

Listen, I didn’t mean any har… I interrupted him in mid-sentence.

Please, you are wasting your time, player. I know the game. Not only am I a member of the so-called, Player Haters Club, I’m the First Lady. Maybe there are docile females out there who find your weak lines a natural aphrodisiac, but frankly, I’m not impressed!

My ego crushing, intimidation tactics usually worked well with most men. However, my opponent, who had miraculously recovered from enemy fire, now appeared impassive. When he finally spoke, his tone was callous, yet reserved.

Let me guess—you are one of those angry, male bashing females, distraught because every man she meets ends up being a loser. Most of you women are so messed up psychologically that when you do come across a real man, you sabotage the relationship by trying to be his mother rather than his woman. And that is exactly why I prefer to stay single. Now, having made my point, I could still use a ride. I was livid. With vigor, I returned fire.

Listen Romeo, you can sell your dollar store philosophy of a woman’s worth to someone who gives a damn. As for me, I can care less. He proceeded to thrust his arm into the sleeve of his jacket.

Forget giving me a ride. I would rather walk! And by the way, yes, we do know each other, at least we used to. I’m Cynthia’s brother, Tony. She was supposed to meet us here at the club tonight. She should have warned me that you have become a bitter psycho! My mouth dropped.

In spite of