Belinda's Song

By Christine Pauls

Tragic experiences from childhood, teen years and adulthood will catapult Belinda into a spiral of events that will mold her into the woman she becomes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781735351568

Christine Pauls

Christine Pauls, an author of Contemporary Women's Fiction and Romantic Suspense is a native of Delaware, born and raised in the city of Wilmington. She penned her first novel in 2012. The mother of two and grandmother of three is an accountant by day in the banking industry. She is a beta reader and a member of NK Tribe Called Success. Her website is www.christinepauls.com

Book preview

Belinda's Song

Christine Pauls

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Copyright © 2015 Christine Pauls

All rights reserved.

Ebook ISBN: 9781735351568

Paperback ISBN: 9781514799024

Acknowledgments

Thanking God for another accomplishment in my life. I finally did it, my second book. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s here. There are so many people I wish I could acknowledge, but it would be a whole other book.

To my family, I love you. I thank you for, without exception, being proud, supportive, and encouraging me to keep writing.

Maurice Scriber, my graphic designer. The day you contacted me and asked me what kind of cover I envisioned, I thought you had the wrong person, but it was me you were looking for. I appreciate how hard you’ve worked, giving me not one, but two exquisite covers and banners. There will be a third once I bring this next project together. Much love and thank you for all you’ve done.

Shonell Bacon, my awesome editor, and teacher. I appreciate you sticking with me over the years. You are one of the smartest ladies I know.

Talented authors, Treasure Blue, and Traci Bee. What can I say? Thank you both for showing me mad love and support, period. I’m forever grateful.

To all the National Best-Selling authors, editors, graphic designer, and reviewers of M-LAS, Naleighna Kai, Joyce Brown, Martha Kennerson, Tanishia Pearson-Jones, Susan Peters, Valarie Prince, Janice Patrick Pernell, LA Lewis, D.j. McLaurin, and J. L. Woodson, you rock! Thank you for all of the knowledge you’ve shared, friendship and support. It truly gives me the lift I need to push myself forward and take the risks to continue to write to the best of my ability. I look up to all of you.

James G.P.A. Gordon, your energy, tenacity, talent, and confidence are contagious. I look forward to your words whether poetry or speaking your mind on social media. You bring an intense smile to my face. I appreciate your friendship and inspiration.

Reviewers Kiera Northington (2015 AAMBC Literary award winner), Johnathan Royal (Books, Beauty, and Stuff), Readers Paradise Book Club (Lavern Aslam) and UBAWA (Danyel Elle) I thank you all for taking the time to read and review my first book, To Begin Again. It means a lot to me to have your professional opinions and honesty regarding my work.

Authors James Scott and Ronnie Dawson, thank you for showing support for me by posting my first book, To Begin Again, to your pages and websites free of charge. It is much appreciated.

My girls and former co-workers, Traci Nicole, and Cheryl Furrowh, I’ve used you two as beta readers even when I didn’t realize I was. Thank you for reading my manuscripts and giving me your honest feedback. So, here we go. I hope you enjoy what I’ve done. Peace and Blessings,

There are lives which travel an unpropitious journey from the beginning of the first breath until the soul exhales the finality of life. Question not the purpose of the road you have been chosen to walk. The answers are unknown on this side. ~The Author of Belinda’s Song~

Chapter 1

Mommy, Mommy, look at me! Belinda beamed as her tiny six year-old hands touched everything on the white vanity. She inhaled the scents of different perfumes and tried on pieces of costume jewelry made of fake pearls and colorful stones. Her blue eyes danced wildly as she scanned the items, immediately zooming in on the ruby red lipstick in a glittery canister. Applying the red cream as she imagined her mother would, she eyed her reflection in the mirror and posed while gathering her bushy mane on top of her head and puckering her lips.

Taking a pull of a cigarette, the curvaceous vision draped across the fluffy, old queen size bed with mint-colored sheets and a floral spread watched. Exhaling slowly, she blew tiny circles upward, the smoke disappearing into the stained ceiling. The room’s ambiance was surrounded by the musical notes of Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together and the fragrance of a baby powder incense burned on the nightstand nearby.

Put my jewelry down and go watch TV, she ordered her voice raspy and stern.

Belinda’s smile turned into a frown as she slowly removed accessory after accessory, shoving them with force back into the jewelry box.

Awww, man, Belinda whined, stomping out of the room of the small one bedroom apartment.

Get your attitude in check, little girl, before that behind of yours be too sore to sit down on, her mother reprimanded.

Belinda corrected herself in an instant and entered the living room. She shoved the pile of clothes on the sofa to the side, clearing her space before walking over to the old floor model color television and turning it on. She flipped through the channels until she came across her favorite show, Good Times and wiggled the crooked rabbit ears sitting on top until the picture became suitable. However, what she wanted was to watch her mother get ready for the company she said was coming soon.

***

Lying contently on the sofa watching old reruns of Good Times, Belinda’s eyes were fixated on the partially, snowy screen. She loved JJ when he called himself Kid Dyn-o-mite and would laugh out loud whenever he would say it.

Baby, come help me, her mother called out.

Belinda ran to her.

Turning around, she instructed, Zip me up. The small hands struggled to pull up the zipper of the form-fitting red dress as her mother knelt. The woman silently giggled as she imagined the look on her little girl’s face using all of her strength to succeed.

Can you get it? her mother asked, trying not to laugh.

I got it, Mommy, don’t you worry. Belinda was determined, and after several attempts, her fingertips blush red from the struggle, managed to move the zipper upward; the garment clung to her mother’s body.

Thank you, baby. Now you stay out in the living room once my company gets here. You hear me? Her mother smoothed her dress, following curves of the fit with her hands, while looking in the mirror. She touched her daughter’s face softly.

Yes, Mommy; can I get some cereal? Belinda snuggled against her mother’s body, hoping she would say yes.

Go on and clean up your mess. She patted her daughter lovingly on her behind.

Yay, thank you! Belinda smiled and kissed her mother on the cheek.

She watched as her daughter skipped happily out of the room and couldn’t help but shake her head and smile.

***

In the kitchen, Belinda took a chair and stood on it to get the box of Fruit Loops from the cabinet. There was barely enough milk. She poured, stirring the colorful circles around with her spoon and licking off the excess. A knock came at the door.

Mommy, want me to get it?

Nah, I got it, baby.

Her mother sashayed to the door. The red dress fit like it had been painted on her curvaceous body, and the red stilettos she wore perfected the look.

Hey daddy, she said to the slender Latino man standing in the doorway.

What’s shaking, mama? My, you look good enough to eat. His accent was so deep the English he spoke was barely recognizable. He eyed her body up and down, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into him.

Why, thank you, daddy. She giggled. Come on back. I got everything you need. Licking her lips, she took his hand, leading him back to the bedroom.

Now, Belinda, you stay out here and don’t come back here for nothing until I tell you. Do you hear me? she yelled back before entering the dimly lit bedroom.

Ok, Mommy, Belinda answered obediently while her eyes were glued to the television. Even at the age of six, she knew the routine. She wanted so bad to sneak a peek, but her mother’s eyes continuously watched even when she thought she wasn’t.

Belinda yawned, stretching her arms to the sky, as she tried to focus on the television and not the sounds coming from the back of the apartment. Soon sleep took over, sending her off to dreamland.

Chapter 2

Aretha Kandi Morris was a woman of the day and night. Standing five-foot seven, her beautiful light brown caramel face was blemish free and her shoulder-length hair, which she kept blonde, was bone straight by a relaxer she diligently applied when needed. Her curvaceous body hugged each and every piece of clothing which covered her, but underneath track marks riddled her frame like tattoos.

She was born and raised in New Orleans, 17th Ward’s Hollygrove neighborhood, a place known for its high crime and murder rate. Her mother Sophia was an alcoholic and died of cirrhosis of the liver when she was fourteen. Not bothering to finish high school, Kandi dropped out in ninth grade right after her mother’s death and had been on her own ever since. She never knew her father. People said he was a man her mom dealt with briefly and was not from around the neighborhood. She didn’t even know his name.

Prostitution was how she survived. It was fast money; she loved sex, so at least she could get paid for it was her reasoning. The drug use came later at the age of eighteen. She was turned on to heroin by one of her clients who said it would help her relax and she could stop whenever she wanted. That was a lie, of course, and she had been using ever since.

Kandi became pregnant after having unprotected sex with an Italian man named Vito. It wasn’t her practice to do so, but he said he loved her and was going to take her out of the life she was living. There was only one stipulation; she must have his child. A naïve Kandi agreed, but when she told him she was pregnant, he denied the child she was carrying was his and walked out of her life forever. Nine months later, the twenty year-old gave birth to a bouncing seven pound baby girl she named Belinda Olivia after her grandmother. With the money she saved, they moved into a small one-bedroom apartment, right back in the neighborhood where she was raised.

***

Staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror of her vanity, Kandi applied her makeup, completing it with the ruby red lipstick in the glittery canister. Pushing her accessories forward, making space, she removed the homemade tourniquet, a belt, from the drawer next to her and wrapped it around her arm tightly. She filled the syringe with the prepared substance, injecting it into the awaiting vein. Her body fell limp briefly, as the drug circulated through. After a few minutes, she lifted herself up and smiled. She was no longer Aretha, but Kandi, ready to make this money. Even though the twenty-seven-year-old woman was growing tired of the life she was living, it was the only life she knew.

She sighed,