Daddy's Little Hood Princness 2

By Shavekia Layfield

Kyree and Promise are like Romeo and Juliet. They have somehow convinced their fathers that they shared a love that was real, or at least that is what Promise was determined to prove. However, Kyree has a few tricks up his sleeve that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

Determined to get Promise to see that he is the best man for her, Jeremy takes his time and makes his move. Promise is stubborn and difficult, but Jeremy never backs down even when Promise finds new ways to ignore his presence.
It is not long before they realize merging two feuding families is not so good of an idea, especially when both families harbor deadly secrets. Kyree sees Chazz as weak and not the mastermind that everyone has portrayed him to be. Kyree uses that opening and begins to make his moves to take what he thinks belongs to his father.

Kyree is faced with a new enemy outside of Chazz by way of an ex-football player named Margo. Along with her new best friend, Promise discovers that her family’s secrets may explain why Margo is seeking revenge on Chazz and Frantz. Promise no longer knows what or who to believe as she filters through years of lies, secrets, and affairs. Will she still think of herself as daddy’s little princess after the smoke clears? Find out in the finale of Daddy’s Little Hood Princess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Dec 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781648405372

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Daddy’s Little Hood Princess 2Full Page Image

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Get a FIRST Look!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

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Copyright © 2017

Published by Royalty Publishing House

www.royaltypublishinghouse.com

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the publisher.

This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 16+

1

SHYDAE

Idreaded today’s day trip. Every third Saturday of the month, my grandma, Essa Mae Banks, loaded Morgan, Bobby, and me into her van to go to the bus pickup so that we could get on the prison bus to go see our mother, Dedra Banks. As much as I loved my mom, I hated to visit her at the Emanuel Women’s Correctional Facility. It seemed like the ride took forever, and the visit was over as soon as it started. My momma was not a bad person. Her problem was drugs, and cocaine was her drug of choice. It was her weakness, and it was the one thing that was more important to her than us.

I never understood how sucking on a glass pipe was more satisfying to her than raising her kids. Nevertheless, I still loved her. It was a crisp autumn morning, and I decided to wear my fitted distressed jeans and a polo sweater that I had gotten from a thrift store. All our clothes were second hand. When my mom was sent to prison, my grandmother’s church flooded us with bags of clothes and shoes. We were thankful, but I only wanted the things with the labels on them. I handed the rest to my sister.

I was twelve years old when my mom was arrested. I never knew my father nor did my brother and sister know theirs. We were all more than likely conceived inside a crack house, so there was no telling who our daddies could be. I remember the day like it was yesterday. My siblings and I were all in the room playing with our toys we had gotten from the Salvation Army’s Christmas Party a week before Christmas. We were still staying with our mom in The Square Apartments. We hadn’t seen her for about a week when she burst through the door with blood dripping from her hands and clothes.

Mom, what is wrong with you? What did you do? I remember yelling at her.

Before she could answer, the police burst through the door. They snatched up my mom and us kids too and threw us in the backseats of two different cars. We kicked, screamed, and pleaded for our mother, but it was too late. Word in the hood was that my momma was framed. She was a junky but not a killer. When I heard that, I set out to prove that my mom was set up, but there was nothing a twelve-year-old could do at the time.

Come on, Dae Dae. We are going to miss the bus, Grandma Essa called out to me.

I was dragging me feet. I didn’t want to go. It was getting harder and harder each visit. My mom was still using drugs while she was in jail. Sometimes, she would come out, and she would smell like she hadn’t had a bath or brushed her teeth in days. Her hair would be matted, and her eyes would be glassy. None of that mattered to me because she was still my mother. I just didn’t like seeing her that way.

The bus ride was always long, and my grandmother would hum old negro spirituals. I normally would stare into space like I was doing now. We sat near the front so we could be the first ones off the bus. We all wanted to tell our mom about the good things she had been missing. It had been nearly a year since she was a taken from us, and we had made the trip nine times before. Today’s trip would be number ten. When the bus stopped, I was the first off. We went through the search process.

I am going to let you in this time, but those pants are not appropriate for prison visits, the guard scolded me.

I looked down at my jeans and didn’t see anything wrong with them. I nodded at the correctional officer and stood to the side while the others were processed through. Each time we came, I always had a sick feeling in my stomach. The place smelled like old pig slop. I hated the way the guards handled us and my mom. They would pull and snatch on us to keep us in line. My grandma would hold on to us to protect us.

There she is! Bobby called out while pointing to our mom.

Bobby was the youngest of us three. He was ten, my sister was eleven, and I was twelve going on thirteen. In my grandma’s eyes I had just become a woman because I started my cycle two days ago.

My mother came in and greeted us with a smile. Hey, my babies.

We were only allowed to hug for a short period before the guards made us separate.

So, what has been happening? she asked.

Dae started her period! Mo shouted.

Well, dang. I could have told her myself, I spat.

So you are a no longer my baby girl now. You are a woman now. I hope you are ready for what comes with that territory.

Hush up, Dedra. I am raising her to be a good Christian like I tried to do for you. I will not have her out there in the streets being a harlot like you were, Grandma Essa snapped.

Oh, Momma, look at her. She has hips and is stacked like I used to be. The men are bound to be looking at her. You can’t stop what nature did to her.

Momma, can I have a snack? Bobby asked.

I have a few coins in my purse. I will take you to the snack machine, Grandma Essa stated.

Go on, Mo. Go with your grandma so I can talk to Dae Dae, our mom ordered.

My mom waited until they were out of earshot before she spoke again. Baby girl, I am not getting out of here. The man they say I killed… Well, he… he was your father, Leroy Anderson. I was set up. He was bringing me money, and when I went to our meet up spot, he was dead. I searched his pockets for money, and that is why I was so bloody. He told me that he got a bank account open in your name. He was my supplier, and he was real wealthy. I need you to get that money, get me a lawyer, and get me out of here.

In the meantime, I need you to help me out. I know you only come once a month, but next month before you come, I need you to meet a friend of mine named Diesel. He is a corner boy on MLK and 3 rd Street. Tell him Dee sent you, and he will know what to do. I need you to bring me what he gives you. Is that too hard for you to do?

No, ma’am. I got you. This was the first time that I had heard anything about my father. I wanted to question her, but I didn’t want to upset her. I wanted to know more about him and was determined to find out.

Thanks, and do not let your sister, brother, or, most importantly, your grandma know what I just asked you to do.

I nodded my head. I didn’t say anything else because Grandma Essa was back with snacks and soda for all of us. For the remainder of our trip, we laughed and caught our mom up on the last month that she missed. She seemed to enjoy our stories, but I could tell she was hurting inside.

My mom was once a high school beauty queen. She was prom queen her junior and senior year. She was so popular that she was nearly on every page of her high school yearbooks. Her skin was smooth like almond butter. Her hair was always neat. Just like us, she wore hand-me-downs, but she would style them in such a way that made them her own. Grandma Essa worked hard for us kids, but we still were living in the same projects that my mother grew up in. Our grandfather, Robert Lee Banks, was killed in the line of duty. It was a traffic stop that went wrong.

My mother never got over the death of her father. She was introduced to cocaine during her senior year of high school by her then boyfriend, the football team's quarterback. She maintained her drug usage until she graduated, but she spiraled out of control quickly after. Between eighteen and twenty-one, she gave birth to three babies and had countless miscarriages after that. Even with her matted hair and orange jumpsuit, she was still beautiful in her own way.

Visiting hours are over. Visitors please proceed over to the bus loading area.

Well, that is it. Thanks, Mom, for bringing them. You all stay good in school, listen to your grandma, and I will see you here next month, she stated, fighting back tears.

She gave me a wink, and I knew what that meant. We all hugged her until we were forced apart by the officers. It was hard to leave her, but we always wrote to her. We loaded the bus and headed back home.

What did your mom say to you? Grandma Essa asked.

Nothing. She just told me to stay away from boys and drugs so I didn’t end up there like her.

Good. Listen to her advice. God knows I told her that, and she still let a no-good nigga ruin her life.

I didn’t say anything else after that. I went into a daze and fell asleep almost as soon as I sat down on the bus. I was awakened once the bus stopped, and we headed home. I replayed what my mom said to me. On the way back home, we passed by MLK and 3 rd Street. Sure enough, there was a tall boy standing on the corner. He resembled Tupac. I wondered how my mom knew him. He looked too young to be a dealer. He didn’t have a shirt on. It was not uncommon for the weather to be warm in autumn in Georgia. He sagged his gray sweatpants, exposing his blue and gray checkered boxers. His rock-hard chest and steel like arms were covered in tattoos. There were several other dudes on the corner with him. I turned my head when we made eye contact. His eyes pierced through my soul.

The next day, I decided to walk over after school to meet him in person.

Where are you going? Mo asked.

I have to go meet somebody. Go meet Bobby at school, and walk him home. I will be there shortly after.

I gave Mo my key, and she was on her way. I headed in the other direction toward MLK. The streets were clear, and the traffic was light. Our school was not far from the block. When I arrived, I walked around to see if I could spot him on the corner.

Are you lost?

I jumped, and chills ran down my spine. I turned to see who was speaking to me. It was him.

No, my mom sent me. She sent me to find a guy name Diesel.

Who is your momma? he asked.

Dedra. Well, most folks call her Dee.

Oh, yeah. She told me she would be sending you by my way. I just didn’t think you would come by so soon.

Are you Di-Diesel? I stuttered.

"Yep. I is him, and he is me. So

what did you come around here for?" he asked.

I just wanted to see who I was meeting and find out what I would be doing.

Oh, she didn’t tell you?

Nah, she just told me to come see you and bring her what you give me, I informed him.

Basically, we running a trap house in the prison. Yo’ momma said y’all come see her once a month, and you are going to be the one who gets the drugs into the prison. Your momma gonna sell ‘em, and one of the guards is going to bring us back the money. So you are an important piece to our operation.

Oh, cool. So do I just come back before we go up there? I asked.

Yeah, unless you want to start now.

I can. What do I have to do?

Take this, and sell it at school. Bring me the money back tomorrow.

Diesel handed me a Ziploc bag with weed and coke in it. I didn’t know anyone at school that did drugs and didn’t know how I was going to sell it. Nevertheless, I listened as Diesel told me how to sell, what each bag cost, and how much I needed to bring back tomorrow. I was nervous but didn’t want to show my fear.

Alright, I am down, I stated as I took the bag and left.

Just like that, I was selling dope.

From that moment on, I sold dope at school. I transported drugs once a month to the prison for my mom. I found out Diesel was only sixteen years old. He was not the big man, but he held his own in the streets and was well respected. I wanted to do all I could to be like him. I yearned for the level of respect that he had. By the time I entered high school, I was well known. I was Dae Dae, and no one was dumb enough to fuck with me.

I had been in more fights than I could count. Diesel taught me how to shoot a gun. He made me feel comfortable as he shared his knowledge of the streets with me. I felt like I belonged. I had to be careful in my line of work. My grandmother was always snooping, so I could never leave anything at home. I took my dope everywhere I went, including church. I even sold to the preacher’s wife, First Lady Barnum. I was good at being a hustler, and it was paying off. I stacked up