A Savage With a Heart of Gold

By Chante Miller

There’s no such thing as a fairytale ending, or is that far from the truth?

Girl boss, Peyton Johnson, also known as Pey, is the youngest celebrity hairstylist in Washington, DC, and she is killing the game. Focused on her career and being the best mom she can be, nothing else matters until a blast from the past finds his way into her busy life. He slowly but surely becomes a good presence in her life and her daughter’s as well.

Zaytoven has dreams of his own, retiring from the streets and exchanging a pistol for a tattoo gun, he and Peyton are the perfect power couple. Everything is too good to be true, and as always, trouble is lurking and soon lands smack dab in the middle of their almost perfect relationship.

Is Zaytoven worth the headache, or will Peyton give up on their love to focus on building her brand?

Will he fight for her or watch her walk away? In this riveting series, love will be put to the test and lines will be crossed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Mar 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781648400490

Book preview

Prologue

June 25, 1999

Mommy, Mommy! Peyton shook her mother’s leg. Look at what I did. She smiled brightly while pointing to the object in front of her.

Peyton’s mom looked down and saw that seven-year-old Peyton had just braided the perfect braid on one of her mannequin’s heads.

Peyton’s mom, Teresa, pinched her cheek. Aww, my baby. Keep practicing, and you’ll be as good as mommy one day. She winked at her.

Every time Peyton looked at her mom, she seemed to get stuck in a daze by her bright hazel eyes. Peyton’s mom had a golden complexion with a golden heart to match. She was blessed with chinky eyes that made people wonder if she was part Chinese and long natural wavy hair. Although she had a busy schedule working in the shop, Teresa made time to go to the gym every day for at least forty-five minutes to keep her body slim and trim.

Peyton was side by side with her mom at her hair salon as she finished her client’s hair. For as long as she could remember, Peyton wanted to be just like her mom. Even at the young age of seven, Peyton looked up to her mom.

Teresa was a well-known hairstylist in DC, the best one in the city to be exact. Every chance Peyton got, she was asking her mom to take her to the salon with her to watch and observe the different techniques she used on her clients. Every other day, she was asking her mom to skip school just to hang with her at the shop. When she couldn’t get her way about missing school, she would take the opportunity to cancel any play dates to sit and watch her mother work her magic on her clients’ hair.

When Teresa finished her client’s hair, Peyton always seemed to look in awe. Even though Teresa was a hairstylist, to Peyton, she was a superhero. I want to be just like you when I grow up, Mommy, Peyton told her mother.

Bending down to her height, Teresa took Peyton’s small chin into her hand. Oh, baby, you will be better than me, Pey Pey. Her mom kissed her cheek.

Peyton beamed at her mother. She was truly her role model. So many days her mother came home with an aching back or aching feet from working long hours. Sometimes, she had an easygoing day, but sometimes, the salon would be filled with drama to the point she wanted to close the shop down. She planned on doing everything she could to make her mama happy. After a few years, the hustle paid off…

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I said I would never change, but shit, it changed me –

Meek Mill

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Peyton Johnson

Chapter One

Peyton Johnson

Today would go down in my history book as one of the best days of my life. It was the grand opening of my very own salon. I finally did it. The hard work had paid off. My blood, sweat, and tears brought me to this point. Many late nights and early mornings, aching arms and legs, lights off, no gas in my car… If anyone knew the struggle, it was me. Hell, me and the bottom were cousins since I had been down there so long.

As I looked around the room at the black and gold décor that filled the salon along with people and local vendors, I wanted to cry tears of joy. Who would have thought that a girl from Southeast DC, the most ruthless part of the city, would have her own salon? It was nothing but God.

From the private room atop of the salon, I decided to have a conversation with him.

Things haven’t always been perfect. Lord, you and I both know I’m far from perfect, but you’ve brought me through every single storm, and I know it was for good reasons. Standing in my own salon… Even when I had my doubts, you made it all possible for me! Thank you, Lord.

It felt good to have so many people come and support little ole me. My name is Peyton Johnson, but everybody knew me around the way as Lil’ Pey. I was 175 solid, five feet two with a body that any grown woman would die for and that I would happily give away. I had a small waist that was covered with light stretch marks courtesy of my daughter. My wide hips and big butt always made me feel uncomfortable in jeans. For as long as I could remember, my hips brought attention to me from younger guys and older guys, and I absolutely hated it. I lived a healthy lifestyle for the most part, but no matter what, my hips wouldn’t go away. Being a good beautician caused my dark brown hair to grow long, stopping at the center of my back. Even though I had dark brown eyes, they were beautiful because they told a story. My deep dimples and high cheek bones are what set my face off. I had a caramel complexion that glistened when I was in the sun. I was beautiful on the inside and outside. I was taught at a young age that I was to treat everybody with the same respect, whether it was the CEO or the janitor.

I was a tender twenty-five and had recently moved back from Atlanta, where I attended cosmetology school and obtained my bachelor’s degree in Business Administration. The move wasn’t easy at all, being that the A was way more advanced in the hair industry. I grinded hard and eventually made a name for myself. All it took was doing a local celebrity’s hair in DC, and I’d been on ever since.

It was my ambition and crazy work ethic along with having an easygoing personality and positive energy that got me to where I was now. There were so many known hairstylists that had let the fame get to their heads. Their attitudes were so disgusting that they drove their loyal clients right into my chair, and I wasn’t mad about it at all.

Since I was a youngin’, I had been slaying Barbie mannequin heads. It felt good to walk in my mother’s footsteps now that I had my own hair salon, and I was fortunate to have her teach me everything I knew about hair. My mom was killed when I was ten by some young thugs who shot her trying to rob her salon. One of her stylists said she forgot her purse at work and went back to the salon to find my mom horribly beaten and dead at the front door. My father claimed that her face was so unrecognizable that we had to have a closed casket at her funeral. My last memory of my mother’s face was from the morning she was murdered when she dropped me off at school.

Peyton, come on so you won’t be late, okay? Teresa, my mom, told me as she pulled up to the front of my school.

I sat in the backseat and pouted, I hated school. All I wanted to do was stay by my mother’s side twenty-four seven and eat ice-cream all day. I was a smart girl with great grades, and was very sociable with everyone, but to me, being at the hair salon with my mother was more exciting than being in a classroom.

Looking back at me, my mom chuckled at my stance. My arms were crossed, and a single tear was rolling down my face. Every morning that my mom dropped me off, we went through the same thing.

Pey Pey, why are you giving Mommy a hard time? my mother asked.

I sat quietly, looking out the window. Can I just go with you today, Mommy? Pleaseeee! I begged my mother.

You have to go to school, get good grades, and be a smart, beautiful lady. my mother reached in the back to wipe my face, Aunt Vicky will pick you up, but I promise to bring you a surprise home. She smiled at me.

My lips started to form a smile. What kind of surprise? I asked curiously as I unbuckled my seat belt and climbed in the passenger seat next to my mother.

I’m not going to tell you. First, you have to be a big girl, stop crying, and go to school, young lady! my mom pinched my left cheek.

Do you promise, Mommy? I sat up in the seat.

My mother stuck her pinky finger out toward me. I never break my promises, Peyton.

Latching my finger onto my mom’s, I leaned in with my lips puckered up to kiss my mother. Okay, Mommy, bye! See you later! I hope it’s a big, big, big present! I stretched my arms wide.

If you are a big girl, then the gift will be realllyyyy big! my mother reached in the back seat for my book bag. Now, it’s time for you to go be a big girl so you can be rewarded with a big gift. I don’t want you to be late. She kissed my cheek.

Taking a minute to decide if the surprise would be better than joining my mom at the salon, I took five seconds to think. I put her backpack on and reached for the door handle. I love you, Mommy. I’ll be thinking about you all day!

I love you more, princess. Now, go before you miss breakfast, my mother said.

The sound of my stomach growling made me hop out of the car. I didn’t have any time to eat breakfast at home, so I couldn’t miss it at school.

During the whole day in class, I found myself getting in trouble a lot for daydreaming and not focusing on the teacher. All I could think about was the surprise that my mom would be bringing home for me.

Is there something on your mind that you would like to share with the class, Peyton? the teacher asked, interrupting my thoughts and causing all of the kids to laugh.

I’m sure my cheeks started to turn red out of embarrassment. I silently hoped that my mother was having a better day than me. I wanted to get up and cry my eyes out in the bathroom, but I didn’t want to chance being labelled a crybaby.

I looked over at my best friend, Brooke, asking for help without opening my mouth. I don’t find anything funny! Brooke slowly eye rolled everybody in the classroom including the teacher.

It was times like these I was happy to have such a close friend to stick up for me. I was far from a punk, but was very soft-spoken, making it easy for me to be a target of bullying.

For the rest of the day, I stayed focused on my school work, and the teacher didn’t bother me. When the bell rang, I was so ecstatic to get home that I was the first person to leave the classroom. Running out the building, I spotted Brooke’s mother’s bright red car. Aunt Vicky was also my mother’s best friend. They would alternate between my mother and father and Brooke’s mom when it came to picking Brooke and I up.

During the ride home, I couldn’t contain the smile on my face. It was getting closer and closer to the time my mom was to arrive home. Since we were next door neighbors, Brooke’s mom decided to wait at my house until my father arrived…

When my father came home to tell me the news about my mother not being able to come home anymore because she had gone to live with God, I blamed myself. I was a little girl, but I still felt my heart shatter into small pieces. I didn’t put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but something inside of me felt like if I had pushed a little harder to skip school and spend the day at the salon with her, then she would still be alive. At that moment, the surprise that I so desperately was waiting for didn’t matter. I cried a million tears; I cried like a newborn baby. I looked around at the faces that surrounded me, and their tears didn’t amount to mine. That was the first time I ever had my heart broken. Even though I physically lost one parent, on the morning of my mother’s funeral when we buried her, I buried my father too. Now, he was nothing more to me than a distant memory.

Growing up, my life was perfect. I had everything a kid could ask for, but the tragic accident with my mom is what turned my world upside down. I was an only child, and like most girls, I was daddy’s princess and mommy’s little angel. My dad, Robert, and I had a tight relationship until the death of my mom. To this day, I believe it made him lose his mind. Two months after my mother’s death, I was moving in with my mother’s best friend, Aunt Vicky, her daughter Brooke, and her nephew. My dad moved on to date the stylist who found my mother dead. He sold the house he and my mom shared and started a new life with his new boo, Angela.

My father swore on her grave that I looked too much like her, and it pained him to see me every day. I was a replica of my mom with my father’s dark brown eyes. I could understand him grieving for his wife, but I never understood how he could turn his back on his kid or betray his wife by marrying a friend of hers. His excuse was that she was helping him cope with my mom’s death.

The last time I spoke with my father was six years ago. I tried my hardest to accept the fact that everyone must move on after death. I didn’t want to hinder my father from his love life, but him moving on to a friend of hers made me question if he really loved my mom. When I decided to put my college degree to use and open a hair salon, my father made sure to let me know how disappointed in me he was. He was scared that the same thing would happen to me that happened to my mom, but I had to live my own life, and I wanted to keep her legacy going.

While most teens spent their years being boy crazy, having a lot of friends, and going out to be a normal teen, I spent my teenage years silently grieving the death of my mom. I wasn’t ashamed to still mourn the death of my mother, but I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone’s life. My adolescent years were a distant memory to me because I wanted it that way. I was a child that nobody wanted. No matter who the person was or the circumstance, people always seemed to abandon me. Every day, I prayed that God would bring my mother back to me, but since that couldn’t happen, I yearned to have the father I had as a little kid by my side.

After graduating with my bachelor’s degree, I thought I would have my father’s support, but I was wrong. I started to feel like a child with no parents left in my life. When I got pregnant at the age of nineteen with my first child, it was a horrible pregnancy. I didn’t have my mom there to help me or my dad to comfort me. I had let him know that I was expecting his first grandchild, and he never called or came to check up on me. I didn’t want to put the blame on my stepmother, but after he remarried, he completely disowned me and adopted his wife’s two daughters as if he never even had a wife or a child before.

That’s my best friend, guh! You bettaaaa! The loudest voice in the room interrupted my thoughts. It was none other than my biggest supporter and number one fan. My best friend deserved a MVP award for holding me down the way she did, and her mother did too.

Brooke had been my best friend since pampers, and I considered her mom, Aunt Vicky, to be a second mother to me. Way before I moved in with Brooke, her mom, and her cousin, Zaytoven, we considered each other to be sisters. I didn’t have any other family members outside of my mother and father, and Brooke didn’t have any family besides her mom, so growing up, my mom and Aunt Vicky embedded in our heads that we were sisters, and we were to always have each other’s back. Before I moved in with them, Brooke and I always attended the same schools, always took holiday pictures together, and would always dress as if we were twins. I could count on both of our hands and toes how many females didn’t like us, how many fights we got into, how many ass whoopings Aunt Vicky gave us, and how many ass whoopings my mama gave us when she was alive. Brooke knew my deepest darkest secrets and vice versa. You would never see one without seeing the other. Our parents used to say that we were the DC version of Thelma and Louise.

Brooke was a well-known stripper at Diamonds, the hottest strip club in DC. Although Aunt Vicky didn’t like that Brooke decided to be a stripper, she still supported her, and she also supported me. Brooke always kept her hair in a blunt shoulder length bob and had ass for days. Not to mention, my best friend was so fucking beautiful. She reminded me of a modern-day Pocahontas. Brooke and I were complete opposites; she was outgoing and way more turnt than I would be. I was the one always in the cut. Even though we were like night and day, she was still my rider. She was as sweet and nice as me, but she was always ready to fight if needed.

Yeah, I really want to pinch myself right now. Still feels like I’m dreaming, I shared with her.

I don’t know why you’re so shocked. Your cry baby ass worked so hard for this moment, and I’m super proud of you! Keep your foot on these bitches’ necks! She tapped my arm as we laughed.

Shut up, goofy. Where’s my baby? I haven’t seen her since I left the house this morning, I asked her as I