Why Would I Quit?: Live With Confidence, Die a Legend!

By Lavell Kendricks

Based on a true story, this gripping debut novel tells the tale of a young lady entering womanhood, ensnared in the vicious cycle of dematerialized soul tie symptoms, addiction, violence, and crime. A single mother in a world where other women knew their position, she played the game. Set against the gritty backdrop of a harsh world, the protagonist grapples with the loss of loved ones and battles addiction to crack cocaine while navigating the perilous underworld of drug dealing. Along the way, she endures physical and emotional abuse from the men in her life. To escape the ghetto, she must confront her demons and forge a path forward. After toiling in dead-end jobs and entangling herself in the criminal underworld, she eventually finds relief in her work at the LAPD, driven by raw honesty and an unflinching outlook on life. This novel delivers a potent and unforgettable account of one woman's voyage marked by strength, courage, and the unyielding question, 'Why would I quit?' Volume 1.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350934229

Book preview

Why Would I Quit?

© 2023 Lavell Kendricks

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN 979-8-35093-422-9

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Plant the Order

Chapter 2: Lion Versus Hyenas

Chapter 3: Sour Love

Chapter 4: Vows and Surprises

Chapter 5: Navigation of Hustle and Heartbreak

Chapter 6: Too Soon to Say Goodbye, Too Young to Die

Chapter 7: Hoodlum or Hero

Chapter 8: Blessing & Burdens

Chapter 9: Slimy Moolah

Chapter 10: Spending Lavishly, Paying the Price

Chapter 11: Not Accepting Defeat

Chapter 12: Rumble

Introduction

In the early 60’s a newborn girl burst onto the scene, her cries reverberating through the tumultuous landscape like thunderclaps in the night. They christened her Beverly, unaware that within her beat a heart as fierce as a hurricane’s roar. Strong as a titan, her spirit blazed with the intensity of a lioness defending her pride. Every word she spoke resonated with an electric charge, capable of rending souls asunder, like a stampede of elephants charging through the savannah. Raised by her lone father after her mother’s untimely departure, Beverly was left with her two sisters and three brothers.

The hand life dealt Beverly left her no choice but to navigate with unyielding audacity.

When the final curtain fal s, the world will forever echo the name Beverly—a legend, whose legacy pours through eternity. Her story weaves a tapestry of resilience, grit, and unwavering mettle. It’s a narrative of conquering adversity, a woman who faced life’s cyclone head-on. This isn’t a tale of surrender; it’s a chronicle of defiance, a march through chaos with her kin by her side. Beverly’s odyssey testifies to the human spirit’s fiery tenacity and the limitless potential within each of us. In these pages, you’ll bear witness to the indomitable soul who refused to be silenced, who dared not to kneel. You’ll be captivated by her words, moved by her actions, and inspired by her unwavering resolve. Join Beverly as she navigates life’s peaks and valleys. Why Would I Quit? isn’t just a title; it’s a question that resonates through these chapters, encouraging you to evaluate your own path and challenges. It’s a ral ying cry, a reminder that when difficulties mount, surrender is never the answer.

Chapter 1:

Plant the Order

In ‘70, I was just strollin’ back from the park hand in hand with my daddy.

He was handed a harsh life lesson, one that promised no laughter in the days to come. But when we hit that corner, heading back home, things took a turn. I saw a fire in Daddy’s eyes, a burning determination.

He turned to me, and his tone meant business: Beverly That’s Joe Breeze over there. This chump has been dodging me for way too long.

Tension hung thick in the air, a crackling current of suspense. Daddy had his sights locked on Joe, and when he got into that zone, there was no turning back.

He marched right up to Joe Breeze, closing in until they were nose to nose. Daddy laid down the law with a heavy hand. Joe owed money, and now, there’d be no more dodging. Daddy had hit his limit, and he wasn’t taking Joe’s flimflam or slick talk any longer. He fixed Joe with an icy, penetrating stare that could give even the toughest hombres the chil s. Daddy wasn’t the kind of man you messed with.

Listen here, Breeze, your words don’t mean shit unless you’ve got my greenbacks, he growled, his voice dripping with authority.

Joe tried to play it cool, blabbering about paying up soon, but he had other fish to fry, like selling tires over on Imperial and Western.

Daddy wasn’t having any of that. He shot back, I ain’t seen a dime for them last damn tires, and now you wanna talk more tires? Boy, you think this is some kind of joke?

Trying to run circles around me. With his arms folded, daddy’s frustration was intense.

Joe started to sweat, realizing he was in deep shit. He pleaded, Look, man, I’ll get you the coins, don’t you worry about that. Right now, I swear, just give me some time, okay?

Daddy stared at him. You dare to say ‘Don’t worry about my greenbacks,’ but let me tell you something: I don’t want to hear any fucken excuses, he growled. With fire in his eyes, he grabbed Joe by the col ar, ready to show him just how serious he was. It was a tense moment, a clash of wil s. Then, suddenly, a swift punch to the gut, and Joe crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain. The scene was harsh, to say the least.

Will he be alright? I asked, my voice trembling.

Daddy looked at me, that same rocklike boldness in his eyes, and said, He’ll be alright baby girl. His voice remained steady and strong. At that moment, I knew that this was just another day in the life of a man like my father, a man who took no nonsense and demanded respect.

We continued down the street, and three houses away, we came across Mr. Nickerson sitting on his porch, puffing on a cigarette. We stopped at his front gate, and Daddy greeted him. Hey, Mr. Nickerson. Do you need anything?

Mr. Nickerson replied, No, I do not, as he rose from his chair with a cane in hand. Then, he changed his mind. Bring me some liquor, I’d appreciate it.

Daddy’s response was unwavering. I’m not going to help you destroy yourself.

Mr. Nickerson mumbled something under his breath, barely audible.

Daddy raised an eyebrow, challenging him to speak up. "What did you say?

I couldn’t hear you," he demanded, never one to let disrespectful comments slide. Poor Mr. Nickerson had lost his wife, leaving him all alone in this world. Daddy, the compassionate soul that he was, checked on him day in and day out, a true pil ar of support.

Mr. Nickerson then asked daddy to fetch him some smoke, hoping to ease his pain in the haze of nicotine. Daddy, however, shook his head, refusing to enable destructive habits. Mr. Nickerson let out a laugh, acknowledging the truth of daddy’s words. He pointed to his worn-out shoes, declaring that he was ready to check out, ready to soar high like Geraldine, leaving all us struggling fools behind. A mischievous grin danced upon his lips as he taunted death.

Daddy responded, understanding Mr. Nickerson’s perspective, but reminding him of the value of his present existence. He scanned him with curiosity, waiting for his next words. Mr. Nickerson slowly lowered himself back into the chair, taking a deep breath before speaking. Definitely, he said, There is nothing you can do for me since you won’t get me any liquor or cigarettes. Soon enough, my ladybug and I will be free like birds. He playful y moved his feet, dancing in his seat.

Daddy sighed, shaking his head in resignation. He said, Wel , that may be the case and right now, I can’t do any good for you. But I got my eye on you, and there’s no excuse for making foolish decisions. I’m going to start dinner, and one of the kids will bring you some food down, alright?

Mr. Nickerson raised his hand dismissively, telling daddy to get out of here. He then added, Poison my food! a testament to the bitterness festering within him. We bid our farewel s, though they felt more like a temporary pause in our interactions, and continued on our way home.

As we walked, daddy turned to me, his voice laced with wisdom gained through years of experience. He shared the realization that, as you grow older, you become set in your ways, and it’s up to you to recognize whether those ways are good or bad. He expressed his frustration, saying that nobody wants to learn or hear the truth anymore.

I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom in his words.

Final y, we arrived at our house, and just before entering, daddy caught sight of my older sister’s boyfriend’s bike hidden in the bushes. He muttered 5

under his breath, expressing his disbelief and concern. He declared, I know damn well she ain’t got that boy in my house.

I tried to calm him down, but he brushed me off, insisting that I go inside and get some ice cream while he handled his own damn house. I wanted to protect my sister’s boyfriend, since he was a nice guy. But daddy was not having any of it. He firmly gripped the doorknob, swinging the door open.

Inside, we found my middle sister on the couch, looking as if she had seen a ghost. As soon as she spotted the fire in our father’s eyes, she stuttered, He’s in the back room, I told him not to come in.

Daddy didn’t utter a word, just took off toward the back of the house.

His belt was already off, and his pace quickened with each step. I knew it was about to get a little ugly in here. I decided to heed daddy’s instructions and headed to the kitchen to get that ice cream.

I didn’t want to be within earshot of the inevitable ass whooping that was about to unfold. I knew daddy could be rough around the edges, but deep down, I also knew he meant wel . I hadn’t even made it to the kitchen before the thunderous crack of daddy’s belt lashed through the house, causing everyone’s heart to skip a beat. I heard the frantic plea of, Oh shit, Mr. Jenkins, no! echoing in the background, but it was too late to stop the impending typhoon.

Daddy’s voice boomed through the wal s, demanding attention like a drill sergeant on a warpath. He bellowed, Get a damn job, know how to show some goddamn respect! Let me tell you something about being a man!

Each word was punctuated by a sharp and merciless slash of his belt, leaving a trail of pain and fear in its wake. Daddy’s anger was self-evident, his spit flying through the air as he unleashed his fury. He declared, with an intensity that shook the very foundation of the house, that if this man wanted my daughter, he would damn well make him worthy of her. The anger in his voice was thick, and my sister pleaded desperately with Daddy, 6

crying out that this was the one for her. But his stern reply silenced her protests: You’re young and acting dumb.

It meant zilch to my daddy. He had her boyfriend trapped in that room, where he unleashed a relentless barrage of belt lashes on the poor guy. I swear, it was some wild shit going down. My sister, caught up in the frenzy, started acting all high and mighty, declaring she wasn’t no fool and turning this whole ass-whooping into her personal crusade.

They dashed around the house like a twisted game of tag, the boyfriend first, vaulting over the furniture, Daddy right behind, swinging that belt like a ninja warrior, and my older sister bringing up the rear, trying to play referee. Just when it looked like Daddy had final y nabbed him, that dude must’ve pulled some James Brown moves, grooving his way out of Daddy’s grip.

He made a dash for the front door, hopped on his bicycle, and bolted like a bat out of hel . Daddy yelled out, with a mix of annoyance and amusement, Until next time, my friend! We’ll meet again!I took a big bite of my ice cream, my middle sister nervously perched on the couch, and my older sister was standing silently behind our father.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite our shared bloodline, it was clear that each of us had our own struggles and dreams, and they were colliding in a chaotic dance.

Later on that night, dinner-time conversation flowed from one person to the next, but it was daddy and my older sister who captivated my attention. My sister, lost in her romantic fantasy, revealed that her boyfriend had asked for her hand in marriage, which explained his presence earlier.

But father, always the voice of reason, shut down her dreams with a resounding Don’t you dare! He told her, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

But she, fueled by a fire in her eyes, boldly declared, It’s already been done, okay? I’m a grown woman, and I am ready!

The tension grew thicker, and I couldn’t help but wonder where their argument would lead. Nighttime arrived, and we were all snug in our beds, but sleep played hard to get with me. I tossed and turned, final y surrendering to my thirst, and decided to grab a drink. Out of nowhere, I caught snippets of Daddy’s hushed and intense conversation on the telephone, although I couldn’t quite piece together who was on the other end.

His words sliced through the dark, and I distinctly heard him proclaim, Ain’t nobody here forever. I ain’t giving up for nothin’ it’s more than hot grits. Right at that moment, as those words left his lips, he spun around and locked eyes with me. His face bore a concoction of resolve and urgency, a puzzle I couldn’t ful y decipher. All I sensed was that change was on the perception.

Chapter 2:

Lion Versus Hyenas

In ‘74, a ripe fifteen, I stood at the precipice of a new life chapter as summer’s last gasps echoed. The first day of high school etched itself into my brain like an indelible mark.

Little did I know, a downpour was brewing, lurking with a scope.

Among my kin, I was the baby, silent but tough, maneuvering the intricate dance of our family. Storm, the eldest sis, had a tongue as sharp as a switch-blade and dreams that soared high, relishing any action that came her way.

Valerie, my middle sis, was Silence personified, emanating a quiet resilience, beaming positivity even when life’s shadows fel .

Then, there was Damien, the eldest of us al , gripped by towering fears, perpetual y ducking life’s challenges. He’d often