V.E.N.U.S. Vs M.A.R.S.

By Sity Love

The CEO of Left Lane Exhibition, Sity Love, brings you a romance thriller from the heart of New York City. Cinema Wynt and Andreni Tachyons relationship propels to a standoff as a result of mental power struggles over the years. The murder of Andrenis mistress, Kimmy, ignites a war. Is this war within them? When was the last time you slept with opposition? Who killed Kimmy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984546739

Sity Love

Asa Sity love Sparkes has created his own style literature. Fast, punchy, and satisfying just like his home town NYC. VvsM is part one of a trilogy that was created while Sity endured a tenure of hardship. Writing and creating characters was my primary sanity stabilizer. Today with the pace of his left Lane life, Sity finds time to create new material while in traffic, in the shower, on a jog, and even while he rest. You got to love yourself in a city with no love -Sity Love

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Love is to share divine will

I AM MALICHI Tachyon … yeah Beast Mode Mali in these streets imma chop it up with you, tell you what life has taught me. The greatest feeling I ever felt is the feeling of being understood. Does anyone understand you?!?!Everyone is hard wired so differently with so much intricacy. We are critically fucked up. Me, I sat on a comfy couch and all the shrink told me was these are symptoms of bipolar 2. You may be traumatize and suffer from PTSD. You think she understands me? 10 years of school $600 an hour and that all she can come up with.

I don’t have those letters behind my name, but let me finish telling you about the feeling of being understood because I didn’t get it from her. When your understood your exceptional. You are admired. The universe you created in your mental casa begins to orbit different. Your whole swag change. You see we need other to complete our purpose. Many will not understand what their purpose is but our purpose will decide who those other are.

When you are understood you begin to display, project and create life through the one who understands you. When you appreciate that, life gets more vivid. Do you follow? When I was finally understood my reason was adopted. I moved she moved like a dance. If I missed a step it’s okay we got the same aim. We’ll pick it back up and our universe will spin graciously. Keep in mind you won’t know if someone genuinely understand you unless you understand yourself. Now sit in silence and ask yourself do you understand you?

Vested Entering New Unique Seduction vs. Murder Answers Real Situation

Sitylove

CHAPTER 1

Cinema Wynt

Sometimes mishaps are the best lessons

- Ewie B

A NDRENI C. TACHYON, or as he calls himself on Instagram And _ I _ am _ Fly, will shortly wake up with some agenda to attend to. All six feet of him takes up only a fraction of our California king. He sleeps in minor spurts—two-hour power naps—then spends six hours getting busy as he calls it. These tenures always fluctuate: five hours awake, two hours asleep; ten awake, four asleep. That’s just the way he’s living.

My take is that he is afraid of death, so he refrains from lengthy siestas. But we can’t be afraid of our only true friend, Death—the most reliable of them all. Once he rises, his light-brown face will still be fresh. No irritations. No crust in his bright eyes and, best of all, no drool on the side of his sexy lips.

Tonight is my night like every night is my night. Monday through Monday is a Cinema Wynt night. A pair of my sexy spectacles and I will let our presence be felt. I’m sexy without the specs; actually, they are riding my wave.

Fresh, clean, dry, moisturized. Look at those legs, Cinema.

Okay, let me see, let me see. I’m feeling like boy shorts. Blue. Teal. Nice. I dreamed I was making a bomb dinner with these on.

Sometimes I daydream about my night dreams. Then blend the two to make better decisions. Decisions, decisions. Come on, Cinema. Let’s go decide on what set of frames you should wear tonight.

Every time I go into my closet, I’m reminded of how much I love it—1,123 square feet. Andreni calls it an exhibit. The mirrors are accurate. The lighting is great. Over half is color coded. I mean, what more could a diva want? One side is a thirty-feet-by-eight-feet-high wall that displays my eyewear—7,118 pairs to be exact. This was my idea. I designed most of this loft, starting with our master suite down to the twenty-five-yard corridor that ends with the living room on the right and the dining room on the left with an elevator separating the two.

It’s not my dream house, but it can be. Once that day comes, I’ma do my dance. Go, Cinema. Go, Cinema. Go, Cinema. Go go. Easy now. They love it when I do my dance.

Should I get flashy, classy, or nasty tonight? Or can I just take a break and wear these—my rose-gold Kate Spades, which Andreni won’t remember even though he remembers everything.

Gazelles were so fly at the time. I been soaring since day 1. You can be fly, you can fly high, or you can be soaring. These Dolce&Gabbana were my baby, but I broke the left arm on the 1 train. I was stressed. I didn’t know what I was gonna do. A diva was going crazy. That same evening, I found some crazy glue in the kitchen junk drawer. Yeah, I was back in business.

I first saw Andreni through these red Pradas. We were at a fashion show at BMCC where I began my college career and ended with a master’s in social work from Lehman. BMCC was fun—a part 2 to high school. Nobody was strung out on pills or loud yet. Nobody gained fifty pounds yet. Nobody went bankrupt yet. We were all just young dreamers ready for the world.

Janet Pompey, my favorite homegirl at the time. She was the face of the fashion show. She was a pure vixen from Double Nickel. Polo Grounds. She always had some sucker under her spell, keeping her top-notch in every financial aspect.

The auditorium at BMCC had been packed. I was summoned to do hair and makeup. I played my part in keeping the girls cool. It’s fly or die pay attention.

I sat in the reserved row mid-show. Andreni could have sat down in one of many vacant seats, but he chose to stand. He looked as if he was guarding or overseeing. He looked like the guy in the suit behind the bouncer at the club. His hands were behind his back. He wasn’t skinny skinny, but he was fit. Ball player maybe? Maybe a couple of Rucker tournaments. He wore an Olympic Polo rugby that hitched on his belt. Bosses wore horses; in this case, that was a fact.

He caught my eye through the excitement. I didn’t know it back then, but I had three sets of eyes according to Andreni. Most women only have two. My first set sees what people project. My second set sees why they are projecting such demeanor, and my last set sees where I fit in the projection. A knack of a winner is what he calls it.

I applauded the final run, happy for my girl. Everyone was elated at the outcome. She worked her butt off for a show that lasted nearly twenty-five minutes.

It was now 9:30 p.m.—enough time to go home, get undressed, refresh, and hit the club. I had classes first thing in the morning, so I was going home and going to bed. Everyone filed out, organized and rather quickly. Probably because of all the suffocating body splash in the air. I hugged Janet in front of the stage. Her eyes watered. Her Kente gown was stiff. We took pictures to rep for uptown; this caught Andreni’s eye. He stood planted as people excused around him to exit. No facial hair, naturally baby smooth. He stood militant and mature, quiet and confident.

How do you know he’s interested in you, Cinema? That’s what sprung in my mind. I needed to be sure. Janet was, by far, a bad-ass diva. Clearly, birds of a feather. Between Andreni and us was the seating. I walked wide toward the far left in my Sevens. Yes, jeans and jays. I didn’t go down the center, which would have led me straight to him. He registered my movements and proceeded to his far right. He wanted to cut me off, which was scary but flattering determination.

He didn’t wanna let me go. No no no—that wasn’t his first words; they were You almost escaped.

Excuse me?! I threw a bucket of sass in his face. Who gave him the right?! He was so cool my stuck-up demeanor didn’t even faze him, and truly, he didn’t need the right.

My name is Andreni. Your beauty tells me we need to get to know each other.

An-dren-i, I repeated his name in my head. What was he—Jamaican? Dominican? All the men I’ve ever attracted with were Ty, Ha, G-Money, Dollarz, and Gwop, just fictitious hustlers that got their garments up from boosting and stolen identities. Andreni didn’t give off that vibe even though he was well weeded. He didn’t stink of loud. His breath was fresh, and his face glowed. He got an A-plus for his smile—a smile that brings joy to melancholy moments, or it maximizes the joy in already joyful moments. I continued to fumble his name in my mouth not realizing he had his hand out with his introduction. I was in a daze that I couldn’t fight. All he said was his name, and clips of us sharing something played in my mind: sharing something bigger than me putting on his fitted and chain to do my dance in the mirror. Something bigger than Red Lobster.

Cinema Wynt. I held my smirk.

His hands were soft, but he was a little aggressive as he told me that he was from South Jamaica, Queens. I found that funny because I’ve been to Southside, and the aura was a little different.

With that in mind, I knew Andreni couldn’t be classified by borough. He was definitely a New York fly guy. Before I agreed to walk with him, he said he could only give me twenty-one minutes, staring at his G-Shock. He supposedly had to take care of something. Who gave him the right? As if I were applying for a job or something. I ended up using every second of the twenty-one minutes. The fact that time meant something to him was actually a plus. We all know that life is made up of time, and for that, I knew he cherishes his life.

The M22 bus pulled up, letting off that engine desert heat into the spring night. He sidestepped to give the bus his back and shield me. He asked to see my ID. Stalker alert … or maybe he was just being cautious. Nah nah—definitely stalker alert. Not that I would mind if he did. I gave him my learner’s permit, opposed to my school ID that didn’t have my home address. A laser stare from his low, hazy eyes lasted about two seconds. I had so many questions for him, but he kept it simple. He had his diploma, and he wasn’t going to school. He was twenty-two. He said his occupation was none of my beeswax. That was so cheesy but cheesy at the perfect moment.

I knew he was down to his last minute before he checked his watch again. He fanned his two hands for me to come closer. He was soaring but me too. I pleaded in my mind that he wasn’t gonna spoil what I felt so far by trying to kiss me. That would have been ultimately cheesy. And plus it’s dangerous kissing random people. You’ll be walking around with a sizzle on your lip. He didn’t lean in for a kiss. Thank God. He took my glasses off and looked square in my eyes.