Level Up: Suburban Princess

By Kimani Lauren

South Sanford has one point of entry and one point of exit. Jewana Marnes took the exit and never looked back.
It was just an ordinary Saturday in the life of Jewana Marnes. After smashing the competition in a gymnastics tournament yet again, her parents took her window shopping in boutiques in a posh district full of things they could only dream to one day afford. Her father taking a second to admire a set of golf clubs changed her family's life in ways she'd never imagined. After that Saturday shopping trip, her world was never the same.

Crystal's got a secret...
It's about her father and what they do on daddy/daughter days. Known on the streets as "Ten," this man leads a life that can at best embarrass them and at worst end them all.

For Victoria, secrets are meant to be exposed on her terms...
Moving in secret is Victoria Parish's way of life. When she witnesses a traumatizing event, she keeps it to herself until the day she can get revenge for the voiceless victims.

Welcome to North Sanford, the city where wealth is built from heinous crimes. When the scandals hit you, will you run, will you retaliate, or will you open your purse and find a way to get rich(er)?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perfectly Polished Words
• Release date: Aug 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223420965

Kimani Lauren

Kimani Lauren published her first book at the age of 12, and it will never see the light of day. Through the birth of Sanford County, Kimani Lauren aims to create a subgenre of fiction that examins how intraracial classism mirrors racism while also exploring the different forms of love. She has lived in Syracuse, Columbia, and Memphis. Currently she resides in Syracuse, NY, with her husband and five of her six children. She's working to relocate to a beach house with a balcony overlooking the ocean that serves as her office.   She's also the main editor and owner of Perfectly Polished Words. 

Book preview

Level Up

Level Up

STORIES OF THE MIGRATION FROM SOUTH SANFORD TO NORTH SANFORD

KIMANI LAUREN

Perfectly Polished Words

Contents

About Level Up!

Ten’s Little Darling

Crystal Marnes

The Golf Clubs

Jewana Marnes

The Invitation

Jewana Marnes

The Statement

Jewana Marnes

The Party

Jewana Marnes

The Next Level Up

Jewana Marnes

Sanford’s Little Sweetheart

Victoria Parish

The Beginning and End of Victoria and Geno

Victoria Parish

A note from Kimani Lauren

About the Author

Also by Kimani Lauren

Copyright © 2022 by Kimani Lauren

Published by Perfectly Polished Words

11923 NE Sumner St

STE 316885

Portland, Oregon, 97250, USA

kimanilaurenbooks.com/perfecltypolishedwordspublishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electric or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission from the publisher or author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray, or represent any particular real persons. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Publishing date: October 2022

For the ones thrown into dens with the lions they hated and forced to prove they were better than the lambs they loved.

About Level Up!

From my creative mind comes words that build worlds that readers use my books as all access passes to travel to, get lost in, and learn from.

- My daily affirmation

If you are here, it’s because you’re ready to get sucked into the pandemonium that makes Sanford County.

Welcome.

Sanford County is the amalgamation of every place I have ever lived and loved, and the corruption that has kept those places running. (And the mafias that fund them). I came up with this place when I was twelve years old and denied the opportunity to do anything fun. I’m obviously a little older than twelve now, and Sanford County has evolved. It is the land of the haves, the have-nots, and the have to give their lives and labor so that the haves can have mores. It is a place rich in history and dark secrets.

In the early 90s, there was a huge movement for the have-nots to get out of poverty and into a better situation. The short stories contained in this novella tell how three young ladies in Sanford County were impacted by The Great Migration Out of Sanford County and the beginning of the North Sanford race riots. These stories are not romances and do not necessarily contain happy endings.

*Trigger warnings: Food insecurity, violence, human sacrificing, human trafficking, child trafficking, poverty, racism, classism, eating disorders, minors exposed to illegal substances, murder, infidelity, divorce, and exploitation of undocumented people.

Ten’s Little Darling

CRYSTAL MARNES

Whenever I think of my father, I almost get happy that he disappeared before he took the rest of us down with his stupidity. That’s all it was, stupidity. He expected the people closest to him to suffer the consequences of his nonsense. Personally, I blame my mother for allowing him to make so many mistakes while he tried to grow. If he still had that much growing to do, then he had no business starting a family.

Now, Crystal, I’m taking you to play with this little girl for the day, but don’t ask her name.

With my hair pulled into two shiny ponytails freshly candy curled by my mother, I clutched my daddy’s hand and took the apartment steps two at a time. At the top landing, my pink jelly landed on something sticky. I looked down at it and frowned. Daddy yanked me by my skinny arm.

Come on, girl. I can’t let nobody see me over here. Too many people know who I am.

Even at the age of eight, my father’s faux sense of importance was something to behold. He walked through the Frederick Douglass Housing Projects wearing a pair of sunglasses like they masked his true identity. We passed a group of people shooting dice on every staircase landing. Every three steps, someone asked my dad for spare change, using either his first name or his street name.

Hey, Ten! someone called as we reached the fifth floor landing.

Dad turned on his heels and looked around for the person who dared to make him out in the middle of the day. Zooming in on a man in a Kangol who was holding a wad of money, he crouched so that the man could — I don’t know, maybe see how important the sunglasses made him — disgust curled his lip. Don’t be addressing me in front of my little princess, man.

Fuck you! I’ll say whatever I want to a nigga that still owe me ten dollars from the last time he came down here tryna get some fast money on a come up that ain’t never gonna happen, the man spat back at him.

Daddy tried his best to be intimidating, but eight year old me just wanted him to shut up and get to whichever apartment we were going to. He removed a knife from his back pocket, which seemed to piss the guy off more. Whatever sticky substance I stepped in was still at the bottom of my shoe and had me stuck so that I couldn’t run. I wanted to cry.

Ten, walk your punk ass up the stairs and go get your piece of pussy on credit like you do every week, a different man from the group of dice shooters suggested.

Daddy turned the blade toward him, but a voice sliced through the drama.

Clay Marnes, is that you? I thought you called into work today?

The dice shooters laughed at Daddy and waved him off, returning to their game while Daddy took my hand in his trembling one.

Uh…I did, Mr. Dumakis, but I was trying to rectify the issue of my daughter being sick by seeing if I could get my sister to watch her. He slapped my shoulder with the side of his hand and urged me, Cough or something. Help your old man out.

I fake coughed as best as I could, but nobody was taking me for a child star.

You know, Daddy’s boss said, making it to the landing below us, your daughter seems to get sick the second Tuesday out of every month. Is she okay?

The dice throwers snickered as Mr. Dumakis heaved his hefty frame up the stairs. I buried my face into the side of Daddy’s black polo shirt.

Well, no wonder she’s sick. That little girl is all skin and bones. Is your sister going to feed her? Mr. Dumakis questioned my father. He reached into his pocket and took out two dollars. Get yourself some snacks from the corner store before you go home tonight, cutie pie.

Mr. Dumakis, I ain’t never have a problem with you, but if you ever give my daughter money again, I’m gonna kill you, Daddy warned him.

With what? That butter knife you just pulled on us? one of the dice shooters yelled, and the rest of them screamed with laughter.

I don’t know what you’re getting your panties in a bunch for, Clay. It’s evident that you’re not feeding her, Mr. Dumakis said. Hurry up and get that girl to your ‘sister’ so you can come put in some overtime. I’ve got a whole truck of car parts that needs to be unloaded, and it’s got your name on it.

Dad’s face and shoulders dropped. He pulled me down the fifth floor hallway and banged on a door. A woman in a short robe answered with an attitude. Why you banging on my door like you the police?

Daddy pushed me forward. I need you to watch my little girl so I can do some overtime. Don’t tell her who you are to me either.

Is that your sister, Clay? Let me give her a couple of extra dollars to feed that skinny daughter of yours. Mr. Dumakis walked between them and took a stack of money from his pocket. Is this enough for your trouble? There’s plenty more where this comes from.

The woman smiled. Is that right? Why don’t you come in and let me make you some lunch, Mister?

I’d prefer if you made it for the little girl.

Another confusing thing about this crazy situation was why Mr. Dumakis thought I didn’t eat. Before we left the house, Mommy filled us up with french toast and sausage. I was just a skinny child. My father’s family called me Birdie because my legs were twigs. But missing meals? Never. Although I did eat an abundance of cereal, I wasn’t starving by a long shot.

I walked into the apartment and went straight to the back room. The little girl whose name I wasn’t supposed to know, Paradise, was setting her dolls up in my old dollhouse. At Christmas, my cousin Jewana got a new one, so I had a new one as well by my birthday in March.

I’m taking good care of it, she whispered to me.

I nodded my head and sat beside her on the floor.

Mr. Dumakis appeared in the doorway. You girls play together quietly back here for about thirty minutes, and then I’ll take you to get something to eat and some ice cream. He pulled the door closed.

We giggled as we tried to play and ignore Paradise’s mother yelling out Oh, baby! every five minutes or so. Since there were no clocks in the apartment, we relied on Mr. Dumakis’s return to tell us when thirty minutes was up. He came into the room, pink-skinned and smelling like sweat. With a motion of his hand, he commanded us to follow him. We got into his fancy car and rode through the city of South Sanford to a restaurant down the street from my daddy’s job called ChillZone. Best burger and ice cream I ever tasted in my life.

Dad didn’t come back for me until the next morning. Mr. Dumakis opened the door and waved at him with a generous offer of more overtime. That word usually made my parents so happy. Stuck between pissed and panicked, Dad snatched me from the doorway. He didn’t stop until we reached the stair landing where he tried to examine my brand new clothing under the dimmed broken lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Where are the clothes you had on yesterday? he asked.

The force in his tone had my knees knocking together. I stuttered through telling him Miss Sparkle put them in the wash and said she’d give them to him the next time he came to visit.

I thought I told you not to ask those people their names? he exclaimed.

Like I said before, my father was a stone-cold idiot. He wanted to believe he could leave his eight year old daughter somewhere overnight without her asking the people she was staying with who they were. Silently