Thirsty for a Boss: I Don't Want to Be Loved

By Aisha Linnea

Layla Rich is a gorgeous, confident, hard working go-getter, well at least that's what she tells everyone. Below her flawless surface lies a lost little girl who harbors deeply rooted self worth and rejection issues. Envying the life of celebrities like Amber Rose and Kim Kardashian she does anything to mimic a life like theirs. Using her Instagram popularity to build her ego and mask her insecurities she discovers a way to make it profitable.
Justice Blue knows all about hard work. Unlike Layla she has worked hard for everything she has, including her relationship with her male best friend Dymir. Throughout the years she has always been the loyal, trustworthy friend turned sister that Dymir could depend on. No longer wanting to be in the friend zone Justice realizes that she can't let yet another scandalous female get in the way of her and Dymir's true love.
The handsome Dymir Cooper grew up in Baltimore County. With his street savvy cousin L.A. in his ear they managed to come up together taking over the heroin game in B-More City. Even though L.A. brought him into the game Dymir allowed his business savviness coupled with street knowledge to put him at the top of the food chain. Daily Dymir battles with his conscience and inner demons and comes to the realization that there is no place in the game for a man with a heart. In his search for real love and freedom from the streets he meets Layla and quickly becomes enamored with her beauty. Literally, Layla uses all of her assets to captivate his senses.
While Dymir throws all of his common sense out of the window Justice see's through Layla's superficial facade. As Layla, Justice, Dymir and L.A.'s world's collide the drama unfolds. Page for page their secrets are revealed. Will Justice allow Layla to sink her scandalous claws into Dymir's heart? How long will it take for Dymir to realize Layla's beauty is only skin deep? Will L.A. allow Dymir to leave the game peacefully?Find out within the drama filled pages of Thirsty For A Boss "I Don’t Wanna Be Loved"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Sep 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781648403514

Book preview

Prologue

The front door slammed shut as Layla began to go into convulsions at the dining room table. She panicked and grabbed at her mouth and neck as her airway suddenly tightened. She could feel her lips and tongue swelling by the second. She blinked slowly, and a spell of dizziness was cast upon her.

Trying to beat the unexpected drill of symptoms, Layla attempted to breathe deeply, but her chest became tighter. Finally giving up the fight, she went down face first into the big square plate of food set in front of her, knocking over glasses of wine and water.

The lights were dim, and the tall pillar candles in the midst of the beautifully decorated dining table continued to burn slowly. In any other condition, this would be a serene setting. The smooth sound of R&B jams played from Layla’s iPhone as it lay next to her pale blue hand full of welts and hives. The way she was slumped over, one would have thought that she was dead. Layla put all of her focus on breathing, determined not to give up her life that easily, but with every second that passed, it became harder. The voice inside of her head kept telling her, get up! Get up! It's not your time to go!

Remembering that she carried an Epi-Pen in her purse at all times, she mustered up the strength to raise her heavy head from the plate. Layla’s vision was blurred, and she couldn’t make out a thing in the room. Mashed potatoes clung to her hair and her face as she slowly raised her head. It was a good thing that her purse was on the arm of the chair that she sat in. Digging into her purse, she felt around until she found what she was looking for.

She pulled the auto injector out and slammed the bright orange tip against her thigh.  Feeling the burn of the medicine going into her thigh, she immediately fell to the floor as she had used the rest of her strength. She hoped for the sake of her life that she did the injection in time enough for it to still work. Layla lay there awaiting the epinephrine to do its job. Going in and out of consciousness, she thought about the first time she learned just how poisonous her allergy to shellfish could be to her system. She was only five years old at the time, and her mother had brought some steamed shrimp home from her job at the supermarket.

Layla, don’t eat any of mommy’s shrimp, okay? I have something else for you, her mother directed. The clear plastic container of hot steamed shrimp sat on the kitchen table. The savory aroma of Old Bay seasoning and lemons drew Layla’s siblings into the kitchen. Her mother, already being aware of Layla’s allergy, began passing out the shrimp to all of the children except Layla. Only being five years old, Layla didn’t understand. Being a stubborn little girl, the moment her mother turned her head, Layla quickly snuck a shrimp out of the container and popped it right into her mouth without peeling it.

Ooooo, Mommy! Layla stole a shrimp! one of her siblings told. Layla chewed as much as she could within a few seconds and swallowed it. Her mother quickly scooped her up from the kitchen chair and began to bang on her back, trying to make her cough it up. Layla’s mom watched as the hives developed on her skin.

Mommy, my throat hurts, Layla spoke slowly with a lisp from her now swollen tongue. Her mother darted quickly to the house phone, dialing 9-1-1 while Layla lay out on the floor struggling to breathe.

Mommy, I’m tired, Layla managed to utter right before passing out.

Continuing to fade in and out of consciousness, Layla thought about all the fucked up shit she had done. She didn’t want to die alone. She didn’t want to die before she had the chance to make things right in her life. It was only at this moment of incapacitation that she realized it was a must for her to do better. She hadn’t lived live to fullest. She had no kids and no real future to look forward to. It’s crazy how it took almost losing her life to begin to feel remorseful of all of her deceitful actions.

Who did this to me? Who found out who I really was? Was it Josh? She questioned herself as she lay on the cold floor, wondering if she was going to live or die. Layla had so many people to point the guilty finger at, but could she really blame them? She closed her eyes and drifted into a hallucination.

The loud bass booming from the club speakers didn’t help the headache that was crowning around Layla’s forehead. Thinking that she could keep up with her cousin Kimmy and friends, she was paying for the rounds of shot after shot after shot. She knew that she had one too many drinks this time around.

Layla sat on the plush leather couch in the VIP section trying to pull herself together before it was time to leave. Noticing a tall, dark, and handsome man staring at her, Layla tried to put on her best sober sexy stare. As much as her head was pounding, she stood to her feet so that he could take notice of her curvaceous body and phat ass. Never would she pass up on the opportunity of meeting a potential baller, especially at Drais nightclub. Any nigga posted up in VIP on the weekend of a Mayweather fight had to have that paper.

Watching him as he walked over to her, his fine ass bent over to speak in her ear. A whiff of his luring cologne developed a cloud around her. Layla was immediately placed under a spell by his attractiveness.

I’m Josh, he spoke into her ear. After exchanging a few words, she left the club with him. Layla didn’t waste any time putting it on him, and he didn’t waste time spending his cash. Hitting him off with every nasty trick she knew of made him thirsty for more.

What had happened in Vegas, didn’t stay there. They remained in touch, and she visited him regularly in Connecticut where he lived. Josh explained to Layla that he was married, but to keep her around, he gave her whatever she wanted. The mistake Josh made was allowing Layla to know too much about his personal life. When he tried to break it off with her, she blackmailed him and threatened to tell his wife. To keep her mouth shut, he steadily paid her like clockwork.

Layla’s eyes popped open once again. She was confused and discombobulated. She still had trouble breathing and started to think that the Epi-Pen wasn’t going to work. This was a consequence of her chain of lies and trickery. That’s the one thing about those tables of life. They always turn, and this was concrete proof for her. There were only a select few who knew about how serious her allergy to shellfish was.

Was it James? Lord knows I broke his sweet little heart to pieces. Was it Dymir? I definitely did his tender dick ass dirty. Layla continued to question herself while struggling to regain her composure.

Either way, all of her dirty deeds had finally caught up with her. As she lay sprawled out on the floor, she reminisced about all the things that she had done. Tears crept out of her eyes, burning her skin as they rolled down to the floor. She said a silent prayer to herself.

Lord, I come to you today asking for your forgiveness. I know that I have been terrible. I have no business asking you for anything, but I promise that if you let me live, I'll be a changed woman. I promise to never hurt or harm another soul.

Layla passed out, and visions of the people she had hurt popped into her head. Voices shouted her name.

Layla, I love you, her mother's voice echoed.

I keep telling you that she's not my daughter! her father’s voice shouted.

Layla, you don’t really fucking love him! Justice hollered.

Suck this dick, bitch! Earn this stack!

You can’t let love or the lack of it stop you from getting this money, money money, her mother’s voice echoed.

Several voices played out in her head at the same time. She thought her life was over, and on her journey to hell, she saw all the reasons she belonged there. Layla was being forced to face reality and relive every moment through a nightmare.

1

The shifting of pillows and movements from James getting out of the bed irritated Layla out of her sleep.

What time is it? she asked in a raspy tone.

The same time it always is when we have to wake up on a Saturday morning. Get up, sleepy head.

She let out a bothersome sigh. Layla was tired of having to wake up at 10:00am on Saturday mornings to drop her boyfriend, James, off at work. He was under the impression that she was a sweet girl who worked her ass off and attended school to pursue her nursing degree. Thirty-year-old James was the average working man who put in hell of hours of overtime for the U.S. Postal Service.  He drove a late model Cadillac Escalade which he made payments on, and lived in a single family home on the outskirts of North Carolina.  He and Layla met about a year ago at CIAA weekend.

Twenty-four years young, Layla Rich grew up in Richmond, Virginia. With a mixture of Italian and Black in her bloodline, she was a gorgeous redbone with thick coaled, black lengthy hair.  She had a naturally shapely silhouette with hips and thighs to drool over. Not having much growing up in a home with five other siblings, she yearned for the life of overnight celebrities that she watched on TV like Paris Hilton, Amber Rose and Kim Kardashian. She vowed to do anything in her power to be able to live a life like theirs. Realizing at a young age that she could use her body and her looks to her advantage, she charmed and slept around with every Tom, Dick and Harry who sold her pipe dreams or could provide her with a couple of dollars.

Before she knew it, she was considered ran through and washed up in the streets of Richmond. She came up with a plan to thirst trap her way through the whole DMV area outside of her hometown until she ran into the right type of nigga who could provide her with the proper come up. Layla’s father never claimed her, and because of her lifestyle choices, her mother disowned her, forcing her to leave home at the age of 17. She was determined, by any means necessary, to get it how she lived.

The only problem with Layla’s plans was that she was never satisfied, and she’s not as smart as she thinks she is. No matter how much money or favors she gets out of any nigga, it’s never enough. She gets close enough to them to get whatever she wants out of them, but when they get too clingy or even remotely close to figuring out how fraudulent she really is, she disappears from their lives. Her appetite to gain the finer things in life runs deeper than a bottomless pit, yet she is too lazy to go out and make something of herself to be put in the position to get it on her own.

Hopping in the shower, she lathered up using her favorite Caress sugar scrub body wash.  The alluring fragrance roamed throughout the steamy bathroom, luring James inside with the thought of getting him a little piece. He peeked in on the side of the shower curtain, watching the hot water roll down the crack of her behind as she sang her heart out. After dropping his boxer briefs to his ankles, he snuck in the shower stall. Walking up behind her, he wrapped his muscular arms around her small waistline, pulling her close to him so that she could feel his nature rise up against her backside. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, Layla immediately lied.

James, I’m on my period.

Layla is growing tired of James. Even though he does anything that she asks of him, his money isn’t long enough. James considers himself a provider. He doesn’t require Layla to contribute to the household bills as long she takes care of home. The only thing Layla feels he’s good for is the fact that he allows her to drive his truck around all day while he assumes she’s at work or school.

Since when did it start coming on at the end of the month? he asked, detecting a bit of irritation in her voice.

That’s what I said! I guess my cycle is off schedule this month.

Fuck it! I don’t care! I can just run the red light.

No! I’m not doing that. Plus… I feel a little crampy, babe.

James was irritated. He quickly exited the shower with a hard on and his dreams of getting a shower quickie shattered. Layla took about five more minutes in the shower to ensure he wasn’t in the bathroom when she got out.  Upon exiting the shower, she grabbed a tampon and inserted it into her vagina just in case he still tried, and he would see the string hanging. She was determined not to give him any.

She closed and locked the door to make sure he couldn’t burst in. Grabbing her phone off of the bathroom sink, she opened her Camera 360 app to take her daily bathroom selfie to generate a few potentials in her DMs. Turning her back to the mirror, she posed with her head tilted and fixated her lips into her favorite duck lipped position. She arched her back and poked her ass out to get the right angle. After snapping four pictures, she checked them to make sure they were good. Layla then enhanced the picture using her favorite filters to ensure there were no flaws in sight.

Opening up Instagram, she logged onto her page and posted a mirror image of one of the photos she had just taken with the caption, And then she pokes it out and put an angle on that hip.

Walking out of the bathroom, she caught James lying on the bed naked with his dick in his hand, jerking off.

Won’t you come help me with this? he urged.

Layla’s stomach turned at the sight of him lying there.  It wasn’t that he was ugly or fat, because James was fine. He was 6 foot 2 inches and 185 pounds of chocolatey muscle bound goodness.  It was nothing personal against him. Layla held a disdainful feeling toward all men based on previous encounters with them. She put all men in one category, and she lived by her adopted mantra; Niggas ain’t shit, so neither am I.

Brushing him off, she stepped into the closet to grab her scrubs off of the top shelf.

Come on, James. We are going to be late. I don’t want to keep my client waiting today.

James ignored her, lying back on the soft Egyptian sheets and continued until he busted off into a tube sock. She continued with her routine, ignoring him in disgust. Once they both were dressed, she grabbed her classic monogrammed Louis purse and duffle bag, and set out to the truck. They drove to his job in silence. Once they pulled up in front of the building, James leaned over, and they shared a dry kiss.

See you later, baby. Have a good day at work, she recited like a line from a script because she truly didn’t give a shit. Relieved that he was gone to work his 12-hour shift, she pulled off toward Panera bread to grab a bagel for breakfast and to change her clothes in their bathroom like always.

Good morning, girl, the young female at the register greeted, recognizing her familiar face.

What kind of bagel would you like today?

Hey, boo. I want cinnamon crunch with honey walnut cream cheese, and a small iced coffee.

"Cinnamon Crunch