Miki Starr Martin, Author of Broken Promises

Music:

Member Since: 26/06/2006
Band Website: http://www.mikistarr.com
Band Members:

BROKEN PROMISES
by Miki Starr Martin
Sample Chapter

Adé (Ah-Day) sat cross-legged in the center of the well-lit living room; her head bent low twisting the dreads at her nape. The cool vocals of D'Angelo flowed evenly from her speakers as he crooned about his Brown Sugar. The scent of sandalwood danced into her nostrils. The combination of the smooth brother singing and the burning stick, which dangled dangerously over the edge of the wood grain entertainment center, sent a soothing sensation throughout Adé's body.

Once she was satisfied with the tightness at her nape she threw her head back sending the thick ropes of beyond shoulder length black hair backward to smack against her bare back and shoulders. She'd been growing them for the past five years and they were just as beautiful today as when they first began to knot.

Adé raised her body from the polished hardwood floor and walked barefoot down the short corridor, which was aligned on both sides with mirrors. She stopped halfway to grasp a vision of self through ebony eyes. The reflection was sheer black radiance, pure and sweet. Her skin, the color cream-less coffee, had not a flaw in its design. Few signs of ancestral tampering resided on her physical continent. Had her nose not been so keen, her hair not taken so long, so much coaxing to become coarse and knotty, were the "baby hairs" that framed her oval face not been so fine she would swear that her mother carried her to America hitched on her back with a basket on her head.

After all her name, Adé Nia was derived directly from the Motherland. Adé meaning "crown" and Nia meaning "purpose" combined meant that her purpose here was to be great, to reign. Her beautiful black skin no blemish, nor blotch. A perfect color that always seemed to shine as though it were constantly oiled. Her being was regal, her mere flesh penetrating the very core of White Supremacy and its instigator and igniting it. Envy.

Adé dropped the sunshine yellow towel to her recently pedicured feet and smiled adoringly at her black body, at the way the rich shade of Africa continued perfectly. She raised an arm high above her head, placed her hand against her breast full like the Emerald Mangoes of Cameroon, and began caressing counter clockwise. Once satisfied she switched to the other side repeating the same procedure. No lumps. She breathed a sigh of relief.

She checked for signs of breast cancer the fifteenth day of every month without fail. She'd lost the lovely woman she respectfully referred to as Ma Dear only a couple years earlier to the terrible disease. Since her loss she'd done all she could in an effort to save others and increase awareness. She'd run for the cure, she'd walked for it, donated and spoke on it but the first step was to be aware and pay attention to ones own body.

Unfortunately Ma Dear wasn't as aware as she should've been. The woman, self named Akia Imani, was merely forty-nine when she suddenly fell ill. Ma Dear was a praying woman and depended more on God for her healing than the doctors to which the Father blessed with the gift to heal. That was the worst experience of Adé's brief twenty-five years. Her mother had put all of her faith and trust in God and as far as Adé was concerned he'd forsaken her. Adé would not make the same mistake. She decided it was up to her to take fate into her own hands and she vowed not to allow the sickness to take her down without a fight.

Adé admired her breasts reflection. Cupping them with her hands she gently pushed them a slight higher. Like her skin they too were perfect. She turned her body to get a look at the round rear that jutted forth from her backside.

"How dare he not recognize that I am royalty," she mumbled to herself referring to Kenny DiLaura, the partial Black, partial Hispanic, all over gorgeous brother who she'd been loving for the past five years. The brother who she was sure loved her just the same yet left her two months prior to prepare for a walk down the aisle with Graciela Nambo, the mother of his only child, a boy Israel José Nambo-DiLaura. Adé hated Gracie but more and unfortunately she felt a stronger hatred for seven-year-old Israel or Izzy as he was normally referred. Had it not been for the child her sweet Kenny would still be in her life.

But she had not always felt such disdain toward Gracie. Once upon a time she loved her like a sister, adored and admired her and above all else respected her. The two met in school, both first year students at Sullivan High. Both young women entering a new life, looking ahead to new experiences, unaware of what destinies their futures beheld. The two students assigned to Mrs. Cooley's division quickly became the best of friends. Inseparable. One was rarely seen without the other if they could help it. That was until Kenny entered their lives four years after a seemingly perfect friendship had begun.

Lipstick. Powder. Stockings. Shoes. Hairbrush. Perfume. Everything should be perfect. The seventy-five dollar French roll, every strand of hair in tact and the forty dollar manicure and pedicure had bet' not clash with this dress. The annual pre-graduation jam was an informal extension of the prom and just as anticipated.

Adé, Gracie, and Nancy DiLaura had scrambled like mice, picking, pulling, pinching and perfecting and their peers assured each female that every effort was well worth it. Their eighteen-year-old male counterparts nodded their approval while their dates, their female peers sneered, turning their noses to the sky and rolling their eyes so far back it's a wonder they hadn't gotten stuck. Quiet envy, hmpf. But they weren't the focus for long.

Like a Cinderella fairy tale all eyes locked on the sexiest man to enter the room, including Gracie and Adé's gaze. His curly hair was faded close on the sides, his bright hazel eyes clashed against his natural tan complexion. He was tall, six two maybe six three yet built like a football player. He slapped palms with Icari Sweeten, smiling revealing pronounced dimples. Dimples so deep if you turned his face sideways and poured liquid inside it would hold for as long as his smile lasted. A few fine hairs dusted his top lip and an attempt at a beard was visible.

"Who is that?" Gracie asked her eyes scanning the length of this mystery mans tight frame.

"Girl, I ain't never seen him around here. He is too fine," Adé smoothed her dress with one hand, the other she used to make sure her do hadn't come undone. Out of the corner of her eyes she quickly scanned the appearance of Gracie and Nancy. Yea, she looked better than both of her friends.

"Oh please. Him?" Nancy asked pointing in the direction of the man who had to be God's ultimate gift to women, "He ain't cute. That ain't nobody but Kenny."

"Kenny?" Gracie questioned.

"Kenny who?" Adé's eyes lit up and her grin spread to an ear-to-ear smile. A hook up!

"Oh yea, Kenny!" Gracie's eyes lit up with the recollection, "Remember, he was two years ahead of us!"

"Yea, yea, what was his last name?"

"Ummm...Oh shoot it start with a D. D-D-D-"

"DiLaura!" the two shouted in unison.

"DiLaura?" the two questioned in unison.

"Nancy!" the two screamed in unison.

"Is that-"

"My brother? Yea his ugly behind is my brother. What, y'all like him or something?"

Adé and Gracie gave each other a "Now you know" look. Who wouldn't? The two stared long and silently at their partner in crime Nancy, each with the same thought, "When is this heffa gonna hook us up?"

"So y'all wanna meet him?"

"Sure."

"Why not?"

Adé grabbed her house keys from the hook on the wall. She glanced at the dainty watch that graced her narrow wrist. Twelve twenty-eight. Dammit. It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and she was expected to meet Nancy in front of the TJ Maxx on State Street by one o'clock for shopping, their normal Saturday afternoon routine. If she was late one more time she'd never live it down.

It seemed as though she wasn't ever capable of being in front of that store at the designated meeting time. If she drove she would definitely make it but the problem lied in the fact that she would never find parking. There was no choice but to take the Dan Ryan to Washington where the subway exited outside the building that housed the discount shopping that they so craved every weekend.

Adé walked as swiftly as she possibly could to the Addison L stop just in time to miss the southbound train. Shit! Inside her Kenneth Cole boots her feet were killing her, she should've worn sneakers. It would be at least fifteen minutes before a subsequent train arrived. Adé searched her purse only to realize that she'd foolishly left her cell phone sitting uselessly on the coffee table. Nancy would be pissed.

"Do you know Jesus?" the soft feminine voice wafted into Adé's ear interrupting her train of thought.

Adé turned abruptly to face the source of the question, "Excuse me?"

"I asked whether or not you know Jesus?" the woman repeated, her genuine smile lighting her brown face. Her chubby cheeks puffed as she smiled.

“I have a better question. Does Jesus know me?” Adé scanned the stout woman standing with the pamphlets in her hand. She took a deep breath and stalked toward the end of the platform before the woman had an opportunity to respond.

“Jesus loves you!” the woman shouted after her before resorting to the trial of saving a different soul.

The April sun was arm against Adé’s face yet the breeze that flowed seemingly non-stop embraced a coolness quite uncommon for this time of year. But in Chicago there were no guarantees. Adé tugged on the collar of her leather bomber jacket while leaning forward to see if the train could be seen off in the distance. She mumbled “finally” at the sight of the headlights taking the curve of the tracks.

Adé took a seat near the rear of the car. A heavy-set man who was seated behind her was asleep, his head resting on the window. His snoring was so loud, so rough she could feel each rumble. She decided to move and wound up in an aisle seat beside a woman who was speaking loud judgments against an unidentified acquaintance of hers.

Cllck here to finish reading chapter 1.

CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW TO ENJOY THE STORYBOOK


Sounds Like:

Type of Label: Major