Fake It 'Til You Make It: And Don't Quit Until Your Blessings Come

By Donna Davis

Chanelle Butler felt like an outsider in her own family. She didnt look anything like them, and she had absolutely no personality traits in common with them eitherand they never let her forget it. That is why she was so happy when she met and married Al Butler and became a part of his family. They were the family she wished she had been born into. That is until Al was killed in a tragic accident and her Mother-in-Law, Irene Butler, blamed her for his deathand promptly cut her off.

With her beautiful life gone, Chanelle struggled to provide for her son and ten years later she is still struggling. Thank God she is finally making ends meet. Unfortunately, she is also in the crosshairs of her predatory family and her employer who is determined to make her one of his many possessions.

Chanelle is overwhelmed and if she didnt believe in God, she would have given up; but she believes that God has a plan for her life. Youll be surprised to see what she has to endure before Gods plan is revealed. You will also understand why she encouraged herself to

Fake It Til You Make It
And Dont Quit Until Your Blessings Come

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496951007

Donna Davis

Donna Davis is an African-American writer of commercial, romance, adventure and family/ relationship fiction and sometimes all four rolled into one. She loves writing about the African-American experience. Her hope is to enlighten the world about the variety of interests, personalities, professions and social statuses that span the African-American community. It is important to her that the world understands that not all African-Americans are bad and not all are good just like in every other race, and they want the same things out of life that everyone else wants: A loving family, a good education, the means to support their loved ones, good health, wealth and the same courtesies and opportunities that are afforded to all Americans. Donna currently resides in Chesterfield County, Virginia where she and her son care for her elderly Mother. In addition, she enjoys spending time with friends and family. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Visual Communications. Her other interests include Sewing, Fashion Illustration, Fashion Design and Graphic Design.

Book preview

Prologue

1996

C hanelle Butler sobbed as she listened to her Mother-in-Law rant and rave, accusing her of being the cause of her only son’s death.

"It was your fault, Chanelle. You knew he was tired, but you made him get out of bed to come to your rescue and now my only son is dead because of you and I will never forgive you."

But I was stranded on a dark road with Shawn in the car. I was really afraid, Irene, Chanelle was pleading for understanding.

"Well, you’re still alive so obviously you weren’t in any real danger were you? And, anyway, none of that makes any difference now does it? You could have called me or John or even AAA, but you didn’t. You just had to prove a point, didn’t you? You just had to prove that he loved you more than he loved himself and now my baby is dead. I’ll always despise you for that! And don’t expect to see a dime of his money either. As a matter of fact, you can die, too, for all I care."

Irene Butler slammed the phone down, effectively cutting Chanelle and her young son off from her recently deceased husband’s family and his sizeable fortune. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Chanelle’s own family wasn’t so dysfunctional. The state of Chanelle’s family was one with which Irene Butler was intimately familiar and she knew that cutting her young daughter-in-law off would mean that she would be left totally alone to fend for herself.

The woman who hung up on Chanelle was not the same woman who had loved and cared for her for the past eight years. Irene Butler had been the Mother she never had. Since she married Al right out of High School, Irene had treated her like a daughter, showering her with love, spoiling her and providing her with things she could never dream of counting on from her own parents, like friendship, love, a stable family life and moral support. To have all of that ripped away was almost more than Chanelle could take.

Chapter 1

2006, TEN YEARS LATER

A ww, I wish I could, but I promised a friend that I would stop by tonight. She’s having man problems and needs to talk. You know how it is… Chanelle smiled apologetically.

As her Assistant Manager, Agnes Miller, and her Lead Copy Technician, Fiona Allen, smiled and walked away disappointed again, Chanelle Butler secretly let out a sigh of relief. Although she hated to do it, she felt as if she had no choice but to lie to them. They had a preconceived notion about her and how she lived and they were just itching to see it for themselves. But Chanelle knew that they would treat her differently if they ever found out the truth. The problem was that they expected her to live the way she looked and that just wasn’t the case. She knew that she looked as if she was hiding a stronghold of cash, when the truth was that she just knew how to bargain shop. She knew that getting too close to them would reveal just how far off-the-mark they were on their impression of her and she didn’t think she could take their rejection or even worse…their pity.

Admittedly, Chanelle’s personal life was a bona fide mess and it made her just paranoid enough to make her wary of people trying to get close to her. Certain things, like her lifelong struggles with her unstable family, the loss of her husband and the subsequent abandonment by her in-laws were the things that had affected her life profoundly and had changed her forever. Consequently, she was the poster child for trust issues. To her, trusting brought pain and there was no way that she could see herself being that vulnerable ever again. It was safer to be on the outside looking in; and over the years she had become more comfortable with that position than ever before. As tears welled up in her eyes, she thought of Irene and Chanelle had to accept it—even now, the wounds inflicted by her Mother-in-Law were still as raw as ever.

* * * * * * * *

After Al’s death, Irene Butler turned on her like a rabid dog. Chanelle knew she was angry about the circumstances surrounding Al’s death; but, for a woman that had once been as close as a mother to mount an all-out war against her was inconceivable. First, Irene made it her business to spread horrible lies about Chanelle. She told everyone that Chanelle was cheating on Al and his death was a result of her putting a hit out on him. Then she mounted a legal war against Chanelle that eventually succeeded in cutting Chanelle off completely from Al’s estate…ensuring that Chanelle and Shawn ended up with nothing, zero, zilch.

After that, the knife that The Rich and Powerful Irene Butler shoved in Chanelle’s back was twisted even further when she systematically orchestrated the ostracism of her daughter-in-law from everyone she knew. Her Mother-in-Law Dearest literally banished Chanelle from her circle of friends like she had committed crimes against the Kingdom. No one was allowed to visit, to call, to write or to even imply that they were thinking of or concerned about Chanelle, or the Great and Powerful Oz—uh, sorry, Irene would make their lives a living hell. So, Chanelle lost friends that she and Al had known for years, some since high school, because many of them worked for the Butlers. Irene made it clear that their jobs would be in jeopardy if they continued to be friends with her former daughter-in-law.

Well, needless to say, it didn’t take Chanelle long to find out that she was no good at being poor. Every day was a struggle to hold on to her few assets. And while she was struggling to keep her head above water, her own family was busy finding new ways to drown her in debt. For so many years while married to Al, he protected her from them. But after his death they saw their chance to worm their way back into her life, bringing their self-destructive, dysfunctional, vitriolic, asinine, and, unfortunately, often criminal behavior with them. So every day, on top of everything else, she had to worry about which sibling would bring the next attack.

Like a pack of marauding, spotted hyenas hunting a common prey, her brothers and sister constantly circled around her waiting for their chance to strike. She couldn’t remember a time, even as a child, when she walked into a room where they were huddled when they didn’t elbow one another and stop talking abruptly. The stares they shot her way screamed, Why are you here? We can’t plan our next underhanded scheme against you with you listening in on our conversation. And then, as soon as she left the room, there would be nothing but howling laughter. And telling her Mother about what happened simply subjected her to a vicious tongue-lashing or a backhand across the mouth, or both.

It was bad enough that her personality was the polar opposite from every one of them, but their ignorant comments about her skin color perpetuated a stereotype that had plagued African-American families for years: High-yellow vs. Dark Skin and Good Hair vs. Bad Hair. Maybe Chanelle found those comparisons ridiculous because no matter what they looked like, they were still family and they were all absolutely gorgeous. Her sister and brothers all had this beautiful, smooth as silk, milk chocolate-brown skin, lots of thick, coarse, black hair, thick black eyebrows, long black lashes and beautiful full lips and on top of all of that, they were all long, lanky and supermodel thin. It was like looking at five carbon copies of their Mother; and beside them, Chanelle stuck out like a sore thumb painted with neon green paint. She was the exact opposite of every one of them in every way possible, as she was petite and busty, with an hourglass figure and thus maligned in her family. They also hated her for having so-called good hair, which was the ultimate slap in the face to them, even though she had absolutely nothing to do with it. But, by far the final nail in her coffin was that, for some reason, she was also light-skinned. It wasn’t her fault and she didn’t even care one way or the other, but that was just one more thing about her that was different and they had never let her forget it.

Her only consolation was the hope that one day she would find out that she wasn’t actually related to any of them.

* * * * * * * *

These were the reasons why she avoided social contact like the plague, leaving everyone who tried to get to know her better asking the question, What would make a beautiful, personable woman avoid contact with people who desired her company?

It was a question that she did not intend to answer. It didn’t fit into her plans, which, for now, included building and re-building…building wealth, building a new home and re-building her reputation that had been destroyed by Irene Butler. Now, all she had to do was keep other people out of her wallet. To that end, she had been practicing a brand new word she’d recently learned: NO. And she was starting with her family.

Chapter 2

C hanelle really did have high hopes and big plans for herself and her son. Her plans were extensive and she always had her Wish Book in her tote for those rare quiet times when she had a moment or two to herself. It was one of the few things that truly made her eyes light up. The book included several estate house plans, information on fractional ownership in a private plane, brochures for her dream cars, brochures on residential elevators and high-end appliances, luxury kitchen and bath plans, business plans for several businesses, and an appraisal on the Jean-Michel Basquiat painting that an aunt had left her in her will.

She kept abreast of luxury living by searching through the DuPont Registry and Architectural Digest and every other magazine and website extolling the lives of the rich and famous. Not that she delusional enough to believe that she would one day be rich or famous, but she certainly had no problem with living well. She had already tasted the good life when Al was alive, but it had all been unfairly taken away from her by Irene. That said, Chanelle Butler was a fighter, and she had every intention of taking back what the enemy stole from her.

So, at the time when she put this book together, she was being completely obedient to what God had told her to do in a dream she had one night after praying all night long for the Lord to show her favor and to help her change her situation. In this dream it was like God spoke to her and told her to hold on,

Be still my Daughter, your faithfulness and hard work have not gone unnoticed. Continue to seek Me first. I know your hopes and I know your dreams and I will make them come true when you least expect it. Know that I am God and I will remove that which has been burdening you and I will restore to you that which has been taken from you. Believe in Me and I will order your steps.

So, she followed what she believed was a word from God. She sought Him first, then she followed her dreams and every day she did at least one thing to further them; and in her spare time, she visited every new McMansion development that went up in the surrounding counties because she just knew that one day she would own her own mansion. It just felt right somehow.

In her small world, Chanelle Butler felt like an eagle surrounded by chickens. She just didn’t fit in. The setback she suffered ten years ago had dashed her spirit and clipped her wings; but she refused to believe that she was sentenced to a life in a chicken coop when her true desire was to soar.

Everyone in her family told her she was crazy to believe that God would rescue her, but she had never been surer of anything in her life. Even when they told her how stupid she was…even when they ridiculed her, she kept on believing. Even when they reminded her that God had taken her down once and he would do it again, she kept on believing.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen, they would taunt while laughing at her.

But Chanelle knew a secret that her scheming siblings didn’t know. She knew that God wasn’t like man and that she didn’t have to settle for crumbs when everything belonged to her Heavenly Father. That insight into God’s goodness kept her hopeful.

Hopeful that she would be able to dig out of the pile of debt she was in—hopeful that her family dynamic would somehow miraculously change and that her family would somehow become loving and supportive. Hopeful that one day she would finally be able to pay more than the minimum on her credit cards that she used to assist her in maintaining her fragile façade; and hopeful that she would not be found out and embarrassed before God saw fit to turn things around. Right now though, every dime she could rake and scrape was going toward supporting her Son, her Mother and, unfortunately, her deadbeat Sister.

Chapter 3

A fter their Father, Oscar Brown, Sr. died almost five years ago, what there was of a family unit, finished disintegrating. To the family’s knowledge he hadn’t been sick or anything, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to him. It was easy to see that their Mother had worried him to death. The doctor told them after his death that he had been warning him about his stress level for years, but because of his wife’s condition he could never get any relief.

The sad thing was that he never told anyone what the doctor said and he never complained about his wife’s drinking problem. Maybe the boys knew, but Chanelle didn’t and Giselle wouldn’t have cared if she did know. They all knew that their Mother was an alcoholic. No one could have kept that little tidbit of information a secret; but because it had been years since any of them had lived with their parents they had been desensitized to how difficult and demanding she could be. So their Father was left to deal with her alone. Apparently, he wanted it that way.

All of the kids stopped by on occasion for family dinners for which they were expected to provide all of the food because their Mother didn’t cook; or they would stop by after church and stay just long enough to become thoroughly disgusted with their Mother’s behavior and then they would gradually, one-by-one, make an excuse to go home to their chosen lives. But in all of those times, Chanelle’s siblings never offered help and when Chanelle offered, her Mother cursed her out and told her that she didn’t need anything from her stuck-up behind. After that, Chanelle never offered again and Oscar Brown, of course, knew how Trudy Brown felt about Chanelle, so he didn’t want to subject her to any more abuse. So, he simply did all he could for as long as he could.

Then one Sunday after his wife drank two entire bottles of cheap wine and danced naked on the front lawn for the umpteenth time, Oscar Brown had to physically pick his wife up, throw her across his shoulder and bring her into the house kicking and screaming. After she finally passed out, he sat down in his favorite chair, turned on the game and gave up the ghost. His mind and body had simply had enough. For some reason Chanelle felt as if her Father spent his life apologizing to her Mother for some great transgression; and offering himself up as a sacrificial lamb was the only way he could make amends…a martyr to the end.

For the most part, the family was sad that he died, especially Giselle who thought of her Father as her own personal ATM machine, but strangely enough, his death didn’t even faze their Mother. She just sat in a daze slurring her repeated demands for another drink. The only time she ever acknowledged his passing was when Chanelle didn’t cave to her wishes or her way of thinking. The day before the funeral, Chanelle caught her whispering to Chanelle’s brother Kenny, a.k.a. The Enabler, Go git me a bottle. You know what I like. Hurry up, b’fo Ch’nelle’s cranky ass seez you leav’n.

Chanelle was furious, "Ma, what are you doing?"

She caught Kenny by the arm and said, If you go buy liquor for her, I will hit you on your lunkhead. You need to be helping her to stop drinking instead of enabling her.

The whole family turned on Chanelle like milk that had been left out in the desert sun for two weeks, She’s going through a lot right now, Chanelle. Daddy just died. Let her have a drink, and For God’s sake lighten up, one drink isn’t going to kill her, and Hmph, seems like you’re the one who needs a drink with your aggravatin’, uptight ass and You need to shut the hell up.

Chanelle couldn’t believe her ears. They had all lost their minds.

"You know what? Fine. I don’t give a damn. I’m gonna bury my Daddy tomorrow and then every one of you who thinks it’s okay for Ma to drink herself to death can take care of her and I mean do not call me. I’m through with it." With that, Chanelle stormed out and with her, she took the only voice of reason and common sense in the entire family.

Of course that was just fine with them. That voice of reason and common sense was more like a gnat at a picnic to them anyway: An aggravating, uninvited intrusion. Besides the rest of the Brown siblings preferred to think of creative ways to get their point across, so it would give them the opportunity to evaluate the situation and come up with a devious plan to protect themselves while screwing Chanelle like a $2 streetwalker in the process.

Giselle knew that her goose was cooked, because her Mother would never be as generous as her Father had been. Any money she had would go towards the purchase of as much booze as she could guzzle down. She didn’t have a soft spot for her girls like her husband did. Trudy Brown was just as unfeeling and uncaring as her youngest daughter, so there was no way that Giselle would ever be able to convince her to give up a dime—at least not willingly.

The boys, in their infinite wisdom, thought that their Father was a sucker for wasting so much time taking care of their Mother, and they also thought that he should have cut his losses and dumped her drunken ass in a nursing home long before he died, instead of leaving it for them to do. And since Chanelle walked out, it was the perfect time to discuss who their Mother was going to live with; because it was obvious that she couldn’t live alone and there wouldn’t be any money left to put her in nursing home. Even they knew that if she wasn’t supervised to some extent, she would quickly drink herself to death—with Kenny’s help of course.

So the five of them made a group decision to sell their parents’ house and divide the proceeds between the siblings—minus Chanelle, of course. They didn’t even give their Mother any of the money from the sale of her own house, citing the fact that, if they gave her a lump sum of money, she would buy all the liquor that the ABC Store had in stock, pour it all in the bathtub and drown herself in it. To get Trudy Brown to sign over her rights to her home and of course to all of the money for the sale of said home, they presented her with a bottle of vodka and then after she drank half of the bottle, they told her where to sign and that was just fine with her. She never cared about financial things anyway, as long as she had enough money to send Kenny to buy her cigarettes and liquor, and their Father’s Social Security check was enough for that.

* * * * * * * *

Chanelle hadn’t seen any of them since the funeral and after the burial she didn’t even stick around, wanting nothing else to do with her family. A few months passed, the house sold and her siblings divvied up their Mother’s money. That meant that Trudy Brown had to vacate the house. Finally, it was time to put their plan into action. This is how it would work: It was decided that Oscar, Jr. and his wife Melanie would take Trudy Brown into their home first.

Three weeks later, Melanie Simpson Brown had had enough. Why? In three weeks, Trudy Brown had broken every dish and glass in the house by throwing them against the wall, out in the front yard, at Melanie, at the dog and, oh, yes, by putting them in the washing machine, talking about, Hell, don yell at me, I thought it was the damn dishwasher. Now since when was the dishwasher upstairs in the laundry closet? The truth was that Melanie had drawn her wrath because she had the good sense to lock their liquor cabinet after Trudy drank the two bottles of Champagne that they had saved from their wedding.

Consequently, Oscar and Melanie were on the verge of divorce, because he either couldn’t, or wouldn’t stand up to his Mother. That, combined with Trudy’s love of alcohol and Oscar’s affinity for Columbian Gold and Maui Wowie, and his determination to fulfill his entrepreneurial spirit by becoming the East Coast’s foremost supplier of those herbal supplements, was enough to prompt Melanie to finally give him an ultimatum, "Get rid of Trudy and get a real job or else." She was tired of living with him when she didn’t know when he would end up back in jail for drug distribution and she told him so, There is no way I’m going to live with Trudy’s evil ass while you relax in the company of like-minded capitalists, as you enjoy room and board and three squares a day, provided free of charge by the Virginia State Department of Corrections. Whew! Melanie was out of breath and completely out of patience.

At first Oscar tried to bristle at the thought that she would give him an ultimatum, but then he thought better of it and called Franco and told him it was his turn to take their Mother.

Now, Franco was a player—a pimp. His life was all about looking good, smelling good and loving a whole lot of women real good. If it wasn’t a beautiful woman, a beautiful car or beautiful clothes, Franco wasn’t on it. Heck, most of the time he had several women at his house taking care of him. His home life resembled the scene in the movie, "Woo" when LL Cool J’s character, Darryl had a house full of women working together to meet his needs. In Franco’s house, the women worked, he didn’t. If they wouldn’t work a job, they worked the street corner. They served him, he let them. Jealousy wasn’t allowed and everyone got along fine sharing the workload and sharing Frankie. For that reason, nobody thought it would work to have his mean-spirited, alcoholic Mother thrown into the mix, and they were right. She lasted three days with Franco. Pitiful: Short, and pointless.

If the passing around of Trudy had gone by age, it would have been Kenny’s turn, but since he was always between jobs, Trudy was passed on to Adam and his wife Carla. Now, Adam and Carla had three small children and Trudy Brown’s mouth was nothing if not foul. Carla was a good woman who worked two jobs to support her children and Adam’s trifling