The Spices In Life

By Kim Wilson

Born into a multimillionaire household should have been the start of a life most fabulous BUT, hell no, Em'ry was not weak enough for on-hands ,parenting and Everett was not strong enough to care.
Christine haunts from from birth to adulthood always fearing the emotional worst, so see clings to no one in particular, and she'd learned early that she was an exceptional fighter; physically in School, mentally in Corporate.
All this about sleeping dogs and letting them lie, is a bunchabullshit.
You see, Angelia and I came to enemies at 10 years old; get overable mess. Ooohhh, but, in, high school; different story.
Tracey and I videoed datbitch and Heather snorting straight quality and masturbating each other, and sent them to her federal court judge parents (both), News and School outlets, then social media...
Over twenty years later, everybody all grown an gone. Life had given her such an invisible makeover, we'd slept together before it registered. But trust, she notfonamsecond, forgot me; Christine Veronica Webbster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kim Wilson
• Release date: Oct 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370450374

Kim Wilson

Kim Wilson lives with her husband Wayne at the foothills of the beautiful Blue Mountains in New South Wales, Australia. She started writing quite late in life having started her career as an advertising copywriter and then continuing for the next twenty years as a fashion buyer! She married for the first time at the tender age of 57 so the last ten or so years have a complete turnaround for her. When she’s not writing, she loves snow skiing, sailing, choral singing, her theatre group, reading (of course) and knitting! As well as copious amounts of tea wherever and whenever she can get it!

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Contents

Prologue: What started all this mess!

The Spices

In Life

Chapter One-Ten

Chapter Eleven-Twenty

Chapter Twenty One-Thirty

Chapter Thirty One- Forty

Chapter Forty One- Fifty

Chapter Fifty One- Sixty

Chapter Sixty One- Seventy

Chapter Seventy One- Eighty

Chapter Eighty One- Ninety

Chapter Ninety One- The End

About the Author- What can I say, I am what I write. Each of my characters resemble a part of my hectic ‘living’. I’m the mother of Klassic Wilson, which is my best accomplishment thus far. And as I tell folks when ask of me, It’ll be in my nook."

Other Books by Kim Wilson-

My Rude Awakenings (ShSts), A Life In No Specific Order (Poetry)

Coming 2020 Peace, Be Still (ShSts) A Life Getting In Specific Order (Poetry)

Acknowledgements:

To all my fiction has a place in my non-fiction, so I acknowledge all the finger-licking folks, friend or foe, family by blood or bond, for not taking my life; OOWEE!

The Spices In Life

By Kim Wilson

Prologue

Me and my ‘devout-ass’ father was in the early stages of failing out, which seems to be as usual. I excused myself from his hollerin’ about issues that haven’t even happened yet; all that rantin’ about what might or might not happen and all that ravin’ about passed mess; ignoring his demands of ‘get my black ass back here’. My father was a ‘regular’ I suppose, but him always trying to force me to go to church every day except Thursday, and on Thursday they came to the house, preachin’ something about shakin’ a devil off. I was fed up. I wasn’t trying to understand why. I repeatedly refused to sit amongst them stuffy old folks messing with me about my attitude and or my dress; fuccouttahere ma’am; spiritually gullible folks needin’ to hear some shit to justify ‘put it right in here’, in their big stylish hats, multi-colored of course, with the thick-ass garments to match, to again, justify, listening to Reverend Whatchamacallit hoot and holler and blame and shame they ass into going to heaven, while full of hell. If it wasn’t bullshit, how I know it at my age, I confirmed with myself; either I was going to get in or I wasn’t; what’s the big deal. When my mom suffered horribly and then died from breast cancer last year after being in the hospital for months, cancer slowly eating her alive to death, where was this so called god that saves, I began in thought. Didn’t he hear me crying and praying for her to get better, I was whispering. Didn’t he hear me promising to be a good girl if he’d make her feel better, I found myself screaming. Well since he didn’t hear me, I won’t hear him.

Saturday, as I’m young and full of emotional fire, like they like it, I strut my bow-legs down Robinson Ave in my three inch wedges, my black leather micro shorts, stuffed with fat ass, my matching leather halter-top, stuffed with B-cups, feathered earrings dangling to my shoulder with my tapered four inch afro; I had all the fellas goin’ into 'damn, me first' mode. I knew I wouldn’t be walking but for a minute, hence the 3s. Had I known that my sixteen year old beautiful blackness, all shined up with Vaseline and Aloe Vera, would lure me into being the superficial bitch my father bragged about, I simply confessed out loud, ‘I DON’T GIVE A ………’ I’d had two ‘boyfriends’ so to speak, and a crap-load of social characters, but seeing that I wasn’t given up the goods, they got ghost fast and I let’em. Nah, none of them would have deserved all this. I’ma keep and drive the first one, I like, crazy as hell; laughing out loud. I’d almost made it to the Corner Store without much issue, besides all the honking horns, having to walk through the small crowd of ‘on’ ass brothers littering the parking lot; black, Asian, white and brown decent, leaning up against their ‘on’ ass vehicles, making all kinds of noise, when this one dark-skinned brother decided to intrude my space. I look. I acknowledge. I smile politely and keep steppin’.

Everette Webbster, and your name must be heavenly he speaks in a voice to deep for his frame, keeping up, trying to charm his way into a conversation.

Em’ry Daniels. I guess it's good to meet you slowing up enough as not to be disrespectful.

Well what's good with you he questions, all up in my face. I smile my maintained whites,

Everything, can't you see continuing into this non-convenient store. When I come back outside, he's just standing there. He could have come in and paid; oh damn.

How old are you questioning her subtle arrogance; loving the way she’s sucking on that grape lollipop.

I'm old enough for you not to be questioning me pronouncing each word deliberately.

Okay young lady; if it's like that then that what it's like but don't be out here if you can't hold up your end of the bargain. Everything outside of your front door little lady is grown folks business.

What bargain?

Being grown bargain.

What, ever, boy.

Let's straighten this one thing out right now. I haven't been a boy in eight years. Two, you better be eighteen and up because I'm taking your word for the things that are coming out of your juicy ass mouth; third, can you ride?

Stopping in a full ghetto-girl stance, counting out the answers on her manicured nails, Answers; just because you're old doesn't mean I'm old, I'm old enough. Dos, I can handle anything that is coming out of my mouth, or going in, so don't be worrying. Trois, I can doing anything I want to. Let's ride." The smile that pasted on his super handsome face could not be removed, at least for the first ten years of their relationship as her evolution to adulthood was amazing to behold; this bitch.

CONCEPTION-The freezing cold and vivid crispness of Atlanta’s winter has set in as has Thanksgiving’s deep earthy colors and the aromas of folks and food, hunger and happiness; forcing Em’ry to feel relaxed and restless and horny, relenting to her husband of six years and his having-offspring-before-he's-too-old whining. She has way more important things to do than be mothering children; damn. Everette Webbster spends the next ten years building his Fortune 500 company to a net worth of 17 million dollars while Em’ry, using her amazing looks and animated charm, old-school wisdom and Private-school education to reach her current net worth, via personal and professional enhancing of the well-to-do, the spoiled, rich and royal, to the tune of 10 million plus. Em’ry leisurely pulls herself up onto one elbow, primping her $400 tapered at the back and sides stacked in the front ‘do’ back into place, from yet another attempted night's slumber, having made sure not to smudge her light coating of makeup, during the night. She'd tossed and turned all night hoping and praying she'd be rid of her burdensome bundle come the AM. Her flight to Jamaica in and for two weeks to meet the Ambassador needed her to be able to socially indulge. She’d found entertainment for Mr. E, at home, in the meanwhile. Everette, unable to catch a wink at all last night because of Em’ry's midnight madness, meanders around the lavish blue and burgundy bedroom looking for nothing in particular; just trying to stay out of his insanely aggravated, yet sexy as hell, wife's way to watch her rant and rave about being 15 days overdue; shit! He, again, assures her that everything is already packed in the Maternity bag sent to her from her girlfriend, Kargo, in Madrid. Her personal physician and his select staff is at the ready, so on that great day all he has to do is get them dressed and get them to the hospital when her contractions became 10 to 20 minutes apart. Four days later Everette carefully piles them and the essentials into the fresh-off-the-showroom-floor black on black LES Escalade; sliding from the graveled driveway of imported Egyptian-rock, making a right then heading North at the second Stop sign at 4:08 am.

We’re on the way. Okay. Twenty minutes. They arrive with not a minute to spare; today was that day. Doctor Anglish and his team meet them at the side entrance, reserved for multi-millionaires and their surrogates, patiently guiding her through the entire episode as rehearsed; breath Em’ry, breathe. Once in the over-sterilized birthing room, hooked up to all the right monitors, she screams and threatens and begs for more medication, any kind of medication. The Registered Nurses keep cool, calm and collected doing their emotional best to comply as much and as quickly as possible; hoping this'll be the last time they have to deal with this blasted. July 31 at 8:10am, a beautiful baby girl burst into the world, healthy, screaming and cocoa powder brown with a perfectly rounded head covered with a mass of shiny, tightly curled, black hair which had given Em’ry severe heartburn in her last trimester.

The University Hospital pediatric nurses’ verbally admire her angelic beauty, Y’all come look at this baby; heaven has sent an angel. God has truly done her visual justice; she’ll need every bit of it. After being blessed by the pastor of Bethel AME and named by her parents, a day and 15 hours later, she arrives home to no ‘It’s A Girl’ celebratory fan-fare, swaddled in a luxuriously soft pink cotton wrap. Ms. Kaci, the 29 year old professionally trained and personally selected Haitian-born nanny, carries her gently up the winding white marble staircase to place her in a baby daughter’s palatial space, alone as instructed. Her bedroom is the size of a small apartment. In the center on top of a one-of-a-kind rug from North Africa sits an original, ivory sculptured Onda Convertible crib, designed to adjust with minor adjustments as she grows. Its polished mahogany boasts about the polished Platinum spoon. She’s surrounded by Afro-centric artwork, statues from Zimbabwe and toys from Malawi. Her furniture also consists of an ultra-padded wooden rocking chair and ottoman so Ms. Kaci can comfort her, all day and all night, because Em’ry will always have something else to be doing. Two area tables made of crafted mahogany are placed beside the pink and lavender two-seat sofa. The closet is filled with signature clothes and shoes, foreign and domestic ranging from ages birth to five. Christine Veronica Webbster is home, and they'd soon find out that she's accompanied by vicious headaches; movement stopping migraines caused predominantly by the unnecessary grief, self-induced anxiety and the crap-load of prescription pills Em’ry heaped in and on herself, and everyone around her while she was being ‘weighted down’.

F-I-V-E-

In the beginning the headaches are far and few between, coming about twice a month or so, allowing Christine to absorb; French- ‘je suis une belle enfant noire’, Swahili– moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, nane, kimi, and Chinese Arithmetic ‘to be well-rounded academically’, mainly so Em’ry can brag to her just as arrogant ass circle. All the academic pressures being dumped on her are already beginning to be too much; dang. This is when the Common migraines rampantly reveal themselves with a vengeance. Headaches so fierce they force her to halt all childhood activity, to hang her head in a desperate hope of relief; neither one of her parents rushing to aide her; her crumbling to the floor every time.

Em’ry, Christine’s head is hurting her desperately, one of her first cousins begin to plead, some more. She needs way more medical attention than y’all are providing for her stepping directly in front of her sitting Aunt.

She’ll get it if I think she needs it, not you waving her away like a bothersome bug.

How are you going to know if she needs it if you never take her to see a physician Davonica yells.

Turning to focus at her boldness, with one hand on her curvaceously plump hip. I’ve suffered from migraines all my life and I’m fine, she confirms sternly waving a wicked finger all up in Davonica’s seventeen year old face. I’m fully aware that the child of a migraine sufferer has a fifty percent chance to suffer intense headaches; she just needs to adjust her diet or something, Em’ry concludes by rotating her pearl-studded neck to a full snap in the opposite direction. Take it up with Kaci.

That is so like you to not give a damn about your own child, your only child Davonica says a bit too loud. Em’ry froze. ‘Oh hell NO!’ not at all accustomed to being talk back to by any one for any reason. Venomous words rising from her gut to fill her mouth, You young ignorant bitch, you are out of line in my damn house, she barks as veins bulge in her beautifully botox’ed forehead, speaking to me like that! E.L. she screams!

Yes dear rushing in, 50-year old Cognac in hand.

Get in here and get your rude ass niece before I rip her to pieces, out, of, my, house, NOW! Spinning back to Davonica, to be ignored. Your mother should have spent more time putting her foot in your yellow ass and you wouldn’t be so disrespectful letting her insult follow her husband's niece out of the amazing and immaculate living room. Em’ry marches the perimeter of the lavishly humongous room raging; out loud, looking for the cause of her chaos.

Christine Veronica Webbster, get your black ass in here she spits.

Appearing seconds later,

Yes cowering like an abused animal as she descends the winding staircase. She’d heard every word, and loves her cousin. Look what you've caused, touching up her Em’ry Cosmetics mascara with the tip of her manicured claw. Seething, your father did this to me, forcing me to have you. I knew it was a fuccing mistake. You run around here whimpering about your fuccing head hurting, causing me grief from everyone about your mess! Why are you so damn selfish Em’ry literally spits in her daughter's perfect yet pain-stained brown face.

Mother I didn't...

Shut your fuccing mouth and get out of my sight Em’ry imprints on Christine’s spirit.

She hurriedly retreats, without a word, to the nightmarish yet beautiful comfort of her personal space, where she can allow her rage to build inside of her; one day. Tears pool in Davonica's eyes as she can only ‘hear’ and bear the verbal assaults heaped on her little cousin while following for her mother's brother. There is only so much she can do, but in the meanwhile, she’ll drive this wicked bitch up the wall, figuring it out.

Uncle E.L. please let me speak to you, because your wife is being a bitch as usual redirecting him by his elbow through the airy kitchen onto the decked out patio, sliding the one-of-a-kind stained-glass closed behind them. The air-conditioned enclosure allows her to get a hold of her heated temper. Why they keep it so cold in here is beyond her; most likely because Em’ry’s hot-as-hell attitude would set the house on fire. Her ass might burst into flames for real; for sure the devil’s daughter.

Uncle you are well aware that Christine suffers horribly from these debilitating migraines. They are so intense at times they nauseate her until she’s vomiting; her vision is becoming all screwed up. Noises and lights bother her badly Uncle, even different smells. E.L. they are so bad it staggers her and Em’ry won’t stop taking care of everybody else and being fake long enough to see to it, even worse refusing to let anyone else; what a sorry ass mom, and wife she adds with emphasis.

Well Davonica darling I understand you’re emotional about your cousin, smoothing his neat jet-black mustache. Kaci has informed us of all this and Em’ry will see about this as quickly as she can, jingling around in his pockets for nothing. You know your aunt is extremely busy with... lying through his maintained teeth.

Unc stop always protecting the actions of that witch. She shouldn’t have anything more important to be doing but taking care of her only child, you know the girl be disoriented a lot. Y'all gone wait ‘til she dead then do all that fake ass hollering and crying when you can do something about it right now; ain't like y'all can't afford the best, the absolute best at that. Why do y'all act like y'all don't want her or love her? Y'all been treating her like crap since she was born, Em'ry abusing her and you ignoring her; don't think I can't see that. I'm two steps from calling the family to a round table. This shit gone come back on y'all just wait. God didn't tolerate ugly in the beginning and He ain't tolerating it now. He is not a respecter of bank accounts reaching to slide the door open.

You're right honey, hugging her shoulders gently. I’ll get her what she needs darling and right away E.L. promises.

Yeah; whatever sliding the door closed to leave him all alone with his bold-face lie.

PIANO blESSoNs-

Because I said so; now go practice and stay out of my fuccin’ face! Em’ry yells, pushing Christine hard up against the kitchen's door frame. Christine’s piano skills are professionally polished by age seven and of prodigy quality by eight. Her trophy case holds numerous musical achievements and accolades, too include flute, bass and drums.

At age nine Veronica unleashes an eccentric rhythmic intensity on her Kawai to secure a slot on Showtime at the Apollo-Kids, at which she wins first place.

Look Mother, rushing into Em’ry’s ‘Queen Room’, where Em’ry is watching a Lifetime movie stirring her Cognac, two cubes, with her finger, I won... trying her best to impress her wicked biological mother.

Em’ry snatches the trophy to get a closer look at it; Cute; but what you should be worrying yourself with trying to win is..., and physically slaps her daughter’s face so hard that she stumbles three feet away from her, landing on her butt in the pretty ruffle dress Kaci gave her for just this occasion. Em'ry towers over her, pummeling her from her head to her toes, for no reason at all. Stop trying to outdo me bitch. Christine refuses to make a sound except,

Yes Madame reacting as trained to the unwarranted shame unmercifully heaped on her.

Next time you speak with Kaci about something and not me...; I think I did overhear Kaci speaking to Carter about you being in some Junior National Kawai Presenters bullshit, she spits as Christine scurries to pick up her esteem and First Place trophy from the polished marble floor. Why wasn’t I invited acting as if she didn’t just assault her child to the floor for showing her the trophy she’d just won.

Why rubbing her stinging face, as she gets up, and with that, exits Em’ry's presence.

PAIN-

Em’ry has for years been replacing Christine's prescribed medication with something from her own personal pill pile, hoping that she can have her long time and personal physician convince the courts that Christine needs to be institutionalized for her own good; and now!

I will show her who runs shit around here she blast to Everette, who’s waiting to release his held breath.

Em’ry! Everette! Kaci! Somebody help me please Christine screams in agony as the three crushed Xanax kick in for all the wrong reasons pleading coming from around the carved archway down the long mirror-littered hallway. Mom, she screams as the migraine curls her into a hideous knot under her heavy hand-crafted comforter, gnawing into every nerve in her little brain; I’m exploding! Kaci and Carter hurl themselves through the double doors of her dimly lit bedroom.

The migraines, Kaci motherly soothes as tears well in her eyes. Baby I’m so sorry.

Is there anything, anything we can do for this child Ms. Kaci, these headaches are going to kill her

Carter expresses. I’ll try and contact her doctor...

Nooo, grimacing through the episode; I’ll get through this without, OOooohhhh scrabbling around under the comforter, trying to reposition herself to try hide from the pain. Kaci begins to croon a soft French melody as Carter showers her with affectionate strokes of empathy. Christine Veronica forces as best she can, an attempt to fall into sleep; any form of sleep, even death.

TEN-

At Christine’s fabulous 10th birthday celebration the party room is delightfully decorated in various shades of purple and green and orange for the thirty-six mates she manages, and the host of estrange, strange and strong family members whom she can’t seem to avoid, but whom Em’ry would permit into her castle.

Joyeux anniversaire, Joyeux anniversaire, Joyeux anniversaire ma chere Christine Veronica, Joyeux anniversaire the party of eight to twelve year olds try to sing in unison.

After all the beef hot dogs, and turkey hamburgers, and homemade dishes and such are devoured, they exit the backyard to the huge game room. On top of a Center table sits the biggest vanilla-bean flavored cake she/they’ve ever seen, decorated with a solvable Scooby-Doo scene, and surrounded by vanilla bean ice cream scoops in crystal cups. The 8 foot round glass ‘Greeting’ table, in the grand front entrance, holds an expensive party-favor bag for each guest upon exiting. The children run around enjoying themselves with all the games a child could dream of, while the adults sip Chardonnay out on the balcony.

What’s the matter honey Tiffini's mother questions Christine, who is dragging her feet getting back to her own party, after leaving the bedroom-size spit-polished bathroom.

Nothing Mrs. Tate.

Right on que, Kaci steps on to the patio with Em’ry’s true bundle of joy; as ordered. She’d selfishly chosen this time to showcase Glory, 8lbs 6ozs, who becomes her precious needle found in a flawless haystack. She didn't gain nearly as much weight as she did with Christine, who didn’t even know her mother was pregnant, or have as difficult a time with delivery. Em’ry had decided to vacation in their luxury home in France, again, without telling Christine, during this pregnancy so no one would know until showtime. Christine feels stifled and embarrassed by the unnecessary attention bestowed on Glory, at her party. Also in attendance, in her white party dress with glittered ruffles around the collar, is stinky Angelia McCarthy, whose socialite parents are both Federal Court Judges, plus the six cousins she loathes; Ashly 10, Ashton 11, Auginese 12 and triplets Dinee, Duvoe, and Deside 11. Her mother’s brother drunk uncle Rayford and his high-strung wife Aunt Rainelle. Jeremiah and Claudette are home from Howard University just in time to witness their cousin’s agony; too bad they brought several of their friends who wouldn’t understand how so much pain could exist amongst all this wealth. A set of the four doctors in the Webbster/Walker/Reddman/Phillips family show followed by cousins, Synthian 14, Imunique 16, and Beblessed 18, and their 43 year old, gutter mama HeavenliJean. Cousin Scott falls in moments later after twisting the cap real tight on his Bailey’s Irish, which he keeps in a small ice chest under his Chevy truck’s front seat. Immediately her world is socially ambushed, so she equips her emotions to handle it, her journal begins to live.

Synthian, Auginese, Dinee and Deside dance around Christine's outdoors playhouse; picking apart all her decorating hard work. Right after, the four step back inside the main house, into the foyer off to the right where Angelia is ‘daring’ them to take a sip of the punch she brought from her house. She’d seen her mother mix the concoction to take to parties so she thought it was okay; nah, she knew better. Christine pokes her head in as the flask is making its way around the tiny room. Everybody sips except Christine. Everybody gets intoxicated except Christine. When their parents find out, nobody is punished but Christine.

You fuccing trouble making rag, Em’ry scolds, shoving Christine hard into the wall. You can't even behave with guest in the house, snatching Christine to the floor by her hair. I'm going to have your ass committed if it's the last thing I do Em’ry promises out of the presence of witnesses, smashing