The Rise Of Harlem's Princess 1-3 Boxset

by Chrissy J

  Copyright © 2017 Chrissy J.

  Published by Chrissy J Presents

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to the real locals are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely coincidental.

  This Book is for my Readers!!!!!!

  Thanks for rocking with me from the first Harlem Princess Book, all the way till today! I swear all of y’all, old and new readers. Y’ALL ARE THE BEST!!!!

  Chapter 1

  I’m a daddy’s girl. I am now and always have been, ever since I can remember. My father has been the rise and fall of my life. I look to him for love, protection, guidance, and so much more. He’s the one man that I respect, and I won’t lie; I compare every man that steps to me to my father. To me, he is the definition of a king. My father commands attention when he speaks. He runs his crew like a well-oiled machine. His city bows to him. Just the sound of his name brings a man to his knees. Guess that makes him truly a king. So if my father is king, then I must be the princess. That title is rightfully deserved.

  Fast cars, name brand everything, and endless stacks of money. What you know about being 15 and having the world at your feet? Being privy to any and every thing, you want. When you’re the princess, that’s the life you lead. Don’t get it twisted, that’s not all I’m about. However, it feels good to sit on the stoop of my brownstone and look at my kingdom.

  “Diva come on, I gotta shake a move,” I heard my father yell from the bottom of the stairs in our eight bedroom, four bathroom brownstone in Harlem. It was located near Central Park and Amsterdam Ave.

  I walked over to the mirror and nodded my head up and down, enamored with my look. I’m 5’1”, with a complexion that resembles cinnamon; that I get from both of my parents. I have long cinnamon red hair that I got from my Granny and ocean blue eyes that came from my daddy. My deep dimples drove all the boys wild and they said I favored the singer Ashanti. My body was just like my mother’s; flat stomach, small breasts, and a big ass, all wrapped up in my short frame. I’m a princess and that’s how my father treated me. It wasn’t until I was sixteen when all the drama started in my life.

  Sitting back reflecting on my life, I could pretty much say I had it made. Some girls can’t say they had their father in their life but I can. I can’t really tell you how many of my friends grew up without having a positive male figure in their life, but just growing up in the hood I’ve seen a lot of broken homes and shit that no child should see or know anything about. My father Jamel “Capo” Woods was the King of Harlem and my grandfather Michael “Bulls Eye” Ricci was a mob boss. I was pretty much exposed to shit no 15 year old should be exposed to. I witnessed a man get his hands chopped off because he was short three hundred dollars. Being Jamel “Capo” Wood’s daughter had its perks. Come on, what kid do you know who rode around the hood in Harlem in a different car every day? Or walked around with different colored diamonds and furs whenever they felt like it. I loved being the Princess and nobody could tell me anything different.

  I made my way downstairs and could tell by the look on my daddy’s face that he was upset about something. I tried to act as if nothing was wrong and flashed him my signature smile. Being that I was my father’s only child, I got away with almost everything.

  “Don’t smile at me. Why do you have two C’s on your report card,” he asked. Damn those teachers work fast in that damn school, I thought. I must admit that my grades had been slipping in school, but it wasn’t my fault. They had all these damn rules that I just wasn’t trying to follow.

  “Daddy one of those are for gym and the other one is for Globe Studies. I was late bringing a project back and Ms. Brown was acting like an ass,” I explained as we walked to the front door.

  “What did I tell you about school Diva? I’m not playing with you. Get another C and all that shit you like wearing and all them gadgets you have; I’m taking them from you. Gym, how the hell you fail gym?” he chuckled as he locked the door and walked to his black Range Rover

  “I didn’t change into sweat pants, so they gave me a C. Daddy you always say you gonna take something from me and never do,” I laughed and got inside the car. I waited until he was in and ready to pull off before I started talking again.

  “Keep it up,” he said driving out of the parking space; we were on our way to my mother’s house. I was staying the weekend with her, my brothers, and their father Whitey who I couldn’t stand. He was mad sneaky. He was a dog and my mother was too dumb or blind to see that. He had four kids; two boys from my mother and a set of twin girls from my mother’s ex-homegirl Rema. I thought my mother was crazy for staying with Whitey after he had twins by her friend but I guess love really is blind because she stayed with his ass. When we pulled up in front of my mother’s building on St. Johns and Troy, she was coming out the door with my brothers behind her. I loved both my little brothers Deandre and Damani. My baby brother Damani was my heart; he was born premature and was diagnosed with Sickle Cell when he was six months old. I turned to my father and poked my lips out; I really didn’t want to stay the week with my mother. She felt since I was fifteen and her oldest I was required to babysit while she ripped and ran the streets. I guess my father didn’t know all the shit she put me through while I stayed with her on the weekends. My mother and father weren’t together when I was born. He was with his on again off again girlfriend; now his wife, Mary who was two years older than he was. She couldn’t have kids, and when I was born I become more than her stepdaughter; I became her daughter. I was the only baby in the house and they both spoiled me rotten. Mary is my mother. Don’t get me wrong, Tamika Davis is the one that birthed me and carried me in her womb for nine months and ten days, but I haven’t lived with her since I was five months old. Both she and my father weren’t ready for a baby; they were babies themselves. Mary taught me everything I needed to know growing up and becoming a young woman. She taught me how to wash my ass and pussy the right way, how to wipe myself. She showed me how to use a pad and what a period was and what to expect. She also talked to me about sex when I was twelve and wanted to know what it was, my mother and Mary never got along.

  I was always amazed by my mother’s beauty, but the way she carried herself irked my damn nerves; she is such a bird and it’s not a good look for your daughter to be calling you out on it. She is very beautiful but she also had her flaws and that was something I couldn’t and didn’t rock with. Have my father tell you and most men that crossed my mother’s path and they’d say she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. My mother stands 5’9’, long silky sandy brown hair, Indian cinnamon complexion, almond shaped hazel eyes with the deepest dimples on each of her cheeks that I inherited from her along with a banging body even after having three kids. My mother is a 10; she looked a little like Halle Berry. My mother is beautiful we just don’t always see eye to eye.

  Now my father is a different story. He is just plain ole sexy. He stands 6’2” brown cinnamon island complexion that he got from my Granny and passed down to me. He has jet-black wavy hair that he keeps in a dark fade; he is built from working out every day. His deep dimple on his right cheek, and his ocean blue eyes he got from Papa. His exotic looks made him a lady magnet. He’s 36 but doesn’t look a day over 25. Mary told me stories about my father when they first starting talking, boy papa was a rolling stone. Both my father and I knew my mother still wanted him, they both liked the game they
played, and my pops knew Mary would shoot his ass if he ever stepped out on her. Her motto was what she can’t see or hear won’t hurt her, “outta sight outta mind.”

  Both my parents were funny to me, they both knew they loved one another but they also knew it would never work between them. My mother is and always will be a money hungry chick, and my father wasn’t having that.

  “Princess be nice to your mother, she wanted to see you this week,” my father said as he drove and pulled up in front of my mother’s building in Brooklyn; I sucked my teeth, rolling my eyes in the process.

  “I bet she did want to see me. Daddy she thinks I’m her live in babysitter. Plus I had plans to go out with Hershey tonight,” I explained pouting with my arms across my chest. My father sat on the driver’s side smirking trying to hold his laugher in.

  “Princess, I’ll talk to your mother,” he said reaching inside his pocket to take out a roll of nothing but hundreds. He counted out five crisp hundred-dollar bills and handed them to me along with a kiss on my forehead. I stepped out the Range grabbing my overnight bag as my mother and little brothers were coming out the building. I knew my mother was going to try to hit my pops up for some money; that’s the type of chick she was. She don’t sugar coat shit and she don’t have any balls or hair growing on her tongue. She says what’s on her mind and if you didn’t like what she was saying, she really didn’t give a fuck. I walked up to her and my brothers.

  “Hi DJ,” my mother said pulling me into a hug; I hugged her back smelling her Gucci perfume. She was dressed like a true boss’s wife. Gucci from head to toe and her diamonds were shining. All on my father’s dime. See my father gave my mother a check for five thousand dollars a week; he knew her nothing ass baby father wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be doing and handling his business like a real nigga. So my father thought it was best that he looked out for her.

  “Hi Mommy,” I said kissing her cheek then bending down and kissing both of my brother’s all over their faces. My mother walked to the Range and started a conversation with my father. I knew my little brother Deandre was grilling a hole in my mother’s back. He was his father’s child.

  “Mel let me hold something,” I heard my mother say to my father; he sat staring at her admiring her figure.

  “Damn Meek, I don’t get how you doing Mel? Just straight to point huh?” he asked. His accent rolled thick from his tongue. I saw my mother roll her eyes and shake her head to let him know she was getting annoyed.

  “Mel you know I’ ma straight shooter, there’s no need for me to beat around the bush,” she expressed to him while waving her finger in the air and rolling her neck like a chicken

  “You’re one bugged out chick Meek,” my father laughed handing her three hundred dollars bills through the window on the low.

  “Yea and at one point in time you were in love with this bugged out chick,” she said walking away from the Range and winking at him as he honked the horn and drove off. I laughed at my parents and preceded inside my mom’s building and upstairs to her three-bedroom apartment; sometimes I hated staying at my mother’s house. Her baby’s father gave me the creeps. He would just stare at me and give me lustful looks while he thought no one was watching, but he never made a pass at me. He wasn’t stupid. Whitey was so many things but a dummy he was not and he valued his life. He knew it would be suicide if he tried to do anything to me. I walked inside my mother’s apartment and the strong smell of weed hit me straight in the face. I just wanted to drop my bag off in my room and start getting ready to hit up the Skate Key with my number one, my Ace Boon Coon, my bestie, and sister from another mother Hershey Jones. We’d been friends forever. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I walked down the hallway to my room that my mother had for me whenever I came to stay the weekend with her.

  After dropping my bag down on my bed, I checked my phone to see if I had any missed calls from any of my admirers from the hood and school. I sat on the bed and thought back to the day I met my first crush, Kevin.

  I was sitting outside on my stoop waiting for Hershey. I enjoyed sitting in front of my house. Harlem was my kingdom. I had the respect of everyone.

  “Yo Diva,” I turned to the sound of Hershey’s loud ass mouth pulling me from my daydreams. I looked her up and down as she stepped up on the stoop rocking a short white jean skirt and a pink wife beater. I couldn’t help but think we were some sexy bitches. Hershey was 5’3’, two inches taller than me, smooth dark chocolate skin, long thick brown hair that she kept styled in every design, and light brown eyes. Her body was off the hook, she had a small waist, handful of breasts and ass for days. She reminded me of Gabrielle Union the actress but much prettier which made her a hot commodity. She asked what the hell I was thinking about while fixing her clothes and posing as if we were at a photo shoot. I looked up ignoring her question to see four dudes walking towards us.

  “Who the hell are these niggas?” I asked myself tuning Hershey’s ass out even more and putting my focus on the four guys walking down my block and towards my house.

  Three were rocking Yankee caps, wife beaters, and blue jean shorts. All but one. The dude in front rocked black jeans, a blue and black t-shirt, and matching Jordans on his feet. His hair was in braids past his shoulders and I could see his full lips from down the street. The closer the men got the better I could see that baby boy was sexy as hell. He had skin the color of a latte and his gray eyes sparkled in the sun. He stood around six feet tall. He stopped at my stoop and looked at his phone completely ignoring me. One of the dudes I would later know as Mark called the guy I was checking, K. I had never seen these dudes a day in my life and I wanted to know what they were doing standing in front of my house looking at my door like someone was going to magically appear. Hershey being the out spoken one stood there grilling them like a nigga.

  “Can I help you?” Hershey asked placing her hand on her hip, rolling her neck like a straight chicken. K as the other dude called him looked at her and dialed a number on his phone.

  “I’m out here,” he gave it to the other person on the phone short. I just stared at the sexy man that hadn’t even looked my way since he walked up on my stoop. I knew I was looking good. I had on a pink tank top and some blue Guess shorts that were tight in the right places showing off my perfect round ass and my toned stomach. My hair was out in wild curls going down my back past my waist. I turned to see my Uncle Mike coming out of my front door with my father standing behind him. Both Hershey and I walked in the house following behind my father. Making our way upstairs to my bedroom where I could hear my father and uncle talk from the living room. I stepped into room, and sat on the floor listening as my father commanded his troops. I had no Idea what part the four men played in his camp, however I enjoyed watching as my father showed why they called him Capo. I crept down the stairs to get a better view with Hershey right behind me being nosey; my eyes grew big at what I saw. One of the men that had arrived with K was on his knees with a plastic trash bag underneath his body. He had tears in his eyes as he looked up at my father. I was sure my father was just going to yell at him. He wasn’t a violent man. So I thought, as I watched him smash the man’s hand with the base of the bat.

  “So what did you think? That you could take a few dollars here and there and I wouldn’t miss it?” my father asked the man. Before an answer was given, the bat struck the man’s head. The man opened his mouth, but not a sound came out as a man that looked like he could be his brother placed a gun to his head.

  “You hear me talking?” my father asked, again followed by yet another whack to his head. Both Hershey and I watched as my father moved from clubbing the man’s head to completely beating his body. I watched with sad eyes, unable to look away as tears filled my eyes. K looked over at me, as did my Uncle Mike. I tried hiding my body as the moans and groans escaped the man’s mouth. I just needed to look. As much as I wanted to forget that day, I knew that it would be burnt in my head. I later found out that Kevin worked under my
uncle and was becoming his go to guy for all the young nigga’s they had working for them. That was two years ago and till this day all he does is say hi and bye to me.

  “Diva I didn’t know you were coming this week,” I heard Whitey say breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned around to find him standing in the doorway of my room, his high yellow skin, full lips, his perfect body, and those sexy dimples that weren’t deep got all the females. His looks and his cheating ways were the reason why my mother stayed outside fighting as if she was a young ass girl instead of a mother of three. I told him I was only there for a day; he asked where my mother was and once I told him she was still outside, he caught an instant attitude. I didn’t know what had happened between my mother and Whitey, but whatever it was, he was pissed off. I knew my mother had said some hot shit to him about something or vice versa. Getting my outfit ready for the Skate Key was a must. Everybody who was anybody was going to be there. All the popular kids from school and the hood were going to be in there and Hershey and I had to be dressed to impress .Being the “Princess of Harlem” I had to show up and show out; everybody knew how I rolled when it came to Teen Night at the Key. As soon as my mother walked inside the house my little brother ran to his father running his mouth like a lil bitch; he told his father about my mother going to my father’s car and standing there talking to him. I sat in my room listening to Whitey call my mother all types of bitches and she just sat there laughing and calling him a punk for never stepping to my father about him giving her money every week. I didn’t know what their problem was. It’s not as if they had to work for the money that was coming into their house, Whitey knew better to step to my father, and so did everybody in his little circle.