Latrelle On My Block Novels & Stories

And he said, "The weather is good. Would you like to go for a walk?" "Okay." I followed Shelton and saw that both his arm and his neck looked somewhat red. So I called out to him, "Mr. Shelton, you didn't smear any anti-sunlight lotion, did you?" "Hmm?" Shelton looked at me and said somewhat inexplicably, "Isn't sun block lotion for you girls?"

"You ain't gotta tell me. My mama already cussed me out for trying to sit down. She talking about, 'We ain't gon' be embarrassed by these other blocks!'" Sade laughed, shaking her head. "It’s serious business." And it was. Their block had a reputation to uphold. Unlike some areas of the city, their street was lined with newly built brownstones and had a mix of long time residents and newer families with money. They had the best DJs, the best setups, and always the best food. Everybody wanted an invite. "Where’s Marco?" Claudia asked, nudging Sade playfully. "I ain't seen him around today."

“Do you like it?” Atlas grinned, gesturing at the decorations. After we returned from the mall, he apologized to the kids and even played soccer with them. Now, we were at the terrace and I managed a smile as my eyes traced the decorations. At this point, I was sure it was all in my head. Atlas could never be Ryle and Ryle could never be Atlas. Greta had a point too, people dealt with stress differently and for the past few months, we had been all over the place.

Love's like coffee—only you know if it's bitter or sweet. Lena's phone buzzed again while we sipped tea. She glanced at it, saw the message from Nate: [Lena, I'm leaving.] Her expression didn't even twitch. "I'll block him later," she said casually. "If you can't do it, I'll gladly help," I teased, smirking. She shot me a look—the classic bestie, stop talking glare. By the time we left with the package, Nate was still sitting in her inbox, unanswered.

Some of our maids are really pretty, especially the younger ones. I heard Loretta's foot steps. She had already changed into a singlet, yellow in color and black shorts with yellow flip flops Me: so soon Loretta : yeah. Can I use your phone? Me: what again? Loretta : just to make a phone call She rolled her eyes Me: who? I stretched it to her. She took it and walked to the other cushion Loretta : Unugwa Me: the black girl. Why? Loretta : I wanna apologize for cancelling our plans of going out tonight

Why was he doing this to me? He really needed to stop playing with me like this. I pressed the phone back to my ear and exhaled through my nose, “Zaire, where are you?” “Standin’ outside,” he said. “It loud as fuck in there.” “Where exactly is there?” “5th Block,” he replied casually. “There’s a party.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed."That's in Southridge. Why the hell are you there at this time? That's like two hours from your house."

I kept the overly-aggressive Amazons at bay while getting Odette used to the idea of regular exercise - hanging out with Timothy and I required greater endurance than her sedentary youthful stamina provided. An early afternoon invite to a 'pick-up' basketball game at the community, two-court, outdoor lot with Jason, the bar-back from the Yuppie bar, brought me back in contact with Katy Lee Baker, aka Delivery Girl. Odette tagged along. It also brought me in contact with the local 'wild-life'. A Latin King clique was starting to operate in the area and Jason's crew were the native inhabitants who took exception to this.

I’ll keep the ring boring and the bed honest. Wren typed under the lectern, professional face on. The panel’s straight. I’m not. Ten is for cameras. Midnight is for plaster. She put the phone away and talked about chalk. Six blocks south, a key stayed on a ring. A bed did not stay empty.

The invisible walls of my gilded block. “I…” I hesitated. Leo tugged my hand. “I have Leo…” “Bring him!” James said easily. “There’s a great place a few blocks from here with amazing cookies and a toy corner. Chloe loves it. We could make it a playdate. Ease the pressure.” A playdate. Something normal mothers did. Something I hadn’t done in years. I thought of the empty afternoon stretching ahead in the penthouse. The silence. The feeling of being a ghost in someone else’s home. The memory of Liam’s tortured face last night after the balcony, the constant fear of a misstep.

River The apartment sat in a quiet neighborhood, tucked between sleek fitness studios and overpriced organic cafes. One of those places people passed by without ever really looking at. But I had looked. I had studied. It was an expensive neighborhood, so the people here must be popular or rich. Either way, my mission brought me here. The girl who lived here, Leila Dane, was a name I recognized. Olympic-level track star. Decorated, glorified, worshipped. A walking billboard for the illusion of perfection.