Kim Fields 90s Novels & Stories

“I don’t know, but if I were guessing, I think that someone on that show is getting paid to play Harry’s records.” “I can’t imagine anyone taking money to play some songs.” “I wasn’t talking about money,” Kim said. “The ‘K’ stands for kilos and that means drugs.”

Kim stated arrogantly. Sharon frowned, but knowing she was an international supermodel in the modeling industry, she didn’t take it to heart. There was room for arrogance, if you can back it up. Without another word, Sharon left Kim to herself as she entered the private room to congratulate the women on their performance. Kim left and went to a secluded area and made a call. When it was answered, she quickly stated her reason for calling. “I have a seclusive scoop if you are interested,” Kim said with a wicked smile.

******* I spent the night at Jimmy’s. Now it’s Saturday, Kim’s eighteenth birthday. And guess what? I hate how I’m dressed. All grey loose suit, Jimmy’s choice. I looked like a clown ready for court. We arrived at the beautifully decorated house. Kim spotted us first. She ran over, excitement written all over her face, and dragged both of us inside. The room wasn’t too crowded, mostly family and a few friends. She looked genuinely beautiful, glowing with youth and mischief. “I’ve been waiting for you both to cut my cake!” she said. “But before I do that, I want to remind you of a promise you made to me four years ago.”

I smoothed my hair, expecting a maid with tea or perhaps a messenger from Aunt Sloane. "Come in," I called out, pitching my voice to its most elegant register. The door swung open, but it wasn't a servant. It was Kim. He stood in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever, but in his arms, he carried a weight of shimmering, deep-green silk that seemed to glow against the dark fabric of his uniform. On top of the fabric rested a pair of matching heels...delicate, spindly things encrusted with emerald-toned crystals that caught the light and shattered it into a thousand dancing sparks.

Kimberly fell in love with him then and would take secret pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Black treated Kim like a little sister and spoil her with everything she wanted. Black punished her when she changed her look with lots of makeup to try and seduce him during his visit to the underground casino. He ordered tor her to be locked up for days without food and water only after he found out that she was the same Kimberly he knew else he could have asked his men to kill her. “How stupid of you Kim.... how st...” he burst out crying again. He fell on the floor grieving his sister’s death when he spot a piece of paper under the bed.

Daven sighed, rolling his eyes. "You don't look like a Luna, Kimberly. You're so embarrassing," Daven frowned, walking away, leaving me all alone in the center, shaking. He has always used the one thing he knows I am insecure about, which is my weight, to humiliate me every time we go out. Janet linked her arm through mine, talking through the pounding music. "Kimberly, I told you before to dump his ass." Janet was my best friend since childhood. She was one of those people who spoke their mind and openly pursued her goals; she was the kind of person who would kick your ass for staring for too long. She was known as "Miss No-Nonsense."

He quickly settled all business he had abroad—including a pregnant girlfriend—and hurried back to Southstream. He visited White Hall the very next day and was now in Kim's guest room. Taking a sip of a yellowed tea, he leveled a look of worry at Kim. "I heard the Yaffes were wiped out, so I was worried. It really keeps people on edge, the way those sect members go all out to slaughter each other." Kim, however, was completely distracted, only serving some plain tea leaves and not the ones she handpicked. "Yeah. It's not surprising given the terrible things they were usually up to," she murmured.

“And I might drag you off before your first song finishes.” I turned in his arms. Looked up at him. Close now. Faces inches apart. “I’m doing this for the money,” I said. Reminder to him. To me. “Not for you.” He smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “Keep telling yourself that, kitten.” Then he stepped back. All business again. Like the last minute hadn’t happened. “Kim K!” he called. “She’s ready.” Kim K swept back in. Two more girls trailing him. One carried a tray of jewelry—body chains, nipple clamps disguised as crystals, garters. The other held a black velvet box.

KIMBERLY Uncle Luca picked up Killian last night, I miss the little punk and his bugging. I wrap the rest of the remaining pie I just baked and decided to call Izzy. She picks up on the second ring "Hi Izzy, it's Kimberly." "Kim! Oh my God, hi sweetie how are you doing?" "Am doing great,how are you doing?" "Oh well, trying to be sane for my boy, i'm in miami doing shoots for a magazine."

Lysander might go through the roof later, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Kim parked the car in a narrow alley just off the main street, where the muffled thump of music and laughter spilled out into the night air. He led us to the club entrance, bypassing a long line of partygoers waiting to get inside. Heads turned, eyes filled with annoyance and envy. “Hey, there’s a line, you assholes!” someone called out behind us, his voice thick with irritation. Kim stopped, a dangerous gleam replacing his usual calm. He turned, the coldness in his eyes silencing any further protests.