Shame on It All

  Shame on It All

  Also by Zane

  Addicted

  The Heat Seekers

  The Sex Chronicles: Shattering the Myth

  Gettin’ Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II

  The Sisters of APF: The Indoctrination of Soror Ride Dick

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1999, 2001 by Zane

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Atria Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN: 0-7434-8805-9

  ATRIA BOOKS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  To Carlita and Charmaine

  As sisters, you have been forever supportive

  of my efforts and goals.

  It is a blessing to have you both in my life,

  and while our lives are nowhere near

  as dramatic as the Whitfield sisters’,

  we do have our differences.

  Despite that, when it comes down

  to the wire, we are always there for

  one another. For that, I am

  eternally grateful.

  Peace and Much Love,

  Zane

  Acknowledgments

  With every new release, my list of acknowledgments gets longer and my blessings grow tenfold.

  As always, I must thank the Lord for not only everything He has given me but also for everything He has taken away, for without failure and a great deal of loss, one can never truly be inspired.

  Thanks to my parents is a must, for without them there would be no me. They deserve a thousand nights of praise for that mere fact alone. Their understanding, their support, and their love have nurtured me into the woman I am today, and I could not possibly express my appreciation in words.

  As for my three children, they are my inspiration in day-today life and come before anything and anybody else in my life. Thank you for giving me a reason to struggle on in the face of adversity and stress. Remember that Mommy loves you more than life itself.

  To the hubby, what can I possibly say except that over the last twenty-five years we have grown up together, loved together, and are now finally together for the long run. Every day is an adventure and you deserve many accolades for dealing with a crazy sistah like me. Most people do not realize that I am just as silly as my books and refuse to grow up in so many ways, but you actually have to deal with me.

  To my sisters, Carlita and Charmaine, thanks for just being you. Thanks for the long conversations, the baby-sitting you put in on the weekends, and for treating my children as if they were your own. The same goes for my brothers-in-law, David and Rick. I have this tremendously large family. Our family reunions involve hundreds of people, so I won’t begin to go down the list. However, I do appreciate everything you have all done for me.

  I would like to thank my agent, Sara Camilli, for her support and efforts on my behalf and for reading the five hundred documents I have loaded up her computer with. Soon she will need a separate hard drive just for me. I realize that I get a bit carried away at times with my writing, but you are always understanding and willing to read my words. Thanks for keeping my best interests at heart and for telling me to get some rest when I throw caution to the wind in regards to my health.

  Now this is a book about sistergirls, so I have to do a quick rundown of mine. Big shout-outs to Shonda Cheekes, Pamela Crockett, Esq., Destiny Wood, Michelle Askew, Esq., Pamela Shannon, M.D., Cornelia Williams, Dee McConneaughy, Judy Phillips, Sharon Johnson, Gail Kendrick, Tracy Crockett, Denise Barrow, and Lisa Fox. Some of you I have known since I was in diapers and others I have only known a little while, but I just want you to know that you have all supported me or inspired me in some way.

  I would like to thank my editor, Malaika Adero, my publicist, Staci Shands, Judith Curr, Louise Burke, Carolyn Reidy, Demond Jarrett, Dennis Eulau, Brigitte Smith, and the rest of the Simon & Schuster family for their belief in me despite the fact that I am probably one of the “wildest” writers they have ever dealt with. Thanks for allowing my work to remain the way I envisioned it and for allowing me to publish continuously throughout the year. My greatest fear is that too much of my work will collect dust on my computer, but I take comfort in knowing that will never happen.

  Thanks to my fellow writers who have supported my efforts and to the numerous bookclubs, both on-line and off-line, that have either selected one or both of my previous novels as their book of the month including The Ebony Expressions Book Club, The RAW SISTAZ Book Club, The Black Bookshelf, The Nubian Chronicles, Read Sistah Read, and The G.R.I.T.S.

  Thanks to all the bookstores and distributors that have taken it upon themselves to spread the country with my books.

  Thanks, Rahni (Ronald Shanderson) for using the term shame on it all so much that it stuck to my ribs.

  Last but definitely not least, thank you to the thousands of subscribers to my e-zines, the hundreds of thousands of visitors to Eroticanoir.com from around the globe, and those of you who flood my e-mail box daily with your support and encouragement.

  Since the book was first released, I have received tens of thousands of e-mails from readers specifically asking for Shame on It All Again. Trust me, Shame on It All Again and Shame on It All Forever are both coming.

  With much love and gratitude,

  Zane

  Shame on It All

  Prologue

  Chester Whitfield was practically in stitches from laughing so hard at Huggy Bear. Starsky and Hutch was by far his favorite television program. He never missed an episode.

  Huggy Bear had just strutted into a bar wearing a pair of gray polyester bell-bottoms, a white velour button-down shirt, and an ankle-length paisley-print coat with red faux fur on the lapels. He leaned on the bar, flashed the bartender one of those infamous Cheshire-cat grins, sucked on his tongue, and ordered a drank.

  “Boy, that Huggy Bear sure is a cool-ass cat,” Chester chortled. When he got no response from his better half, he glanced over at his wife, Rachelle, who was cuddled up beside him on the sofa. He was disappointed when he noticed she was too enthralled in the latest issue of Ebony to pay attention to the program. Or him, for that matter. “Rachelle, you’re not going to watch the show with me?”

  “I will in a few minutes,” she replied, not lifting as much as an eyebrow in his direction. “I’m looking at the fashion section. I was thinking about buying the girls some of those dashikis all the young people are wearing on the East Coast. They have an address in here I can order them from.”

  “Aw, hell naw, Rachelle,” Chester protested. “That’s the last thing you need to do.”

  “Why do you say that, Chester?” Rachelle finally lowered the magazine so she could leer at him. “There’s nothing wrong with a little black pride.”

  “Of course not! You know good and well that’s not what I’m saying, woman! If I were any blacker, I’d be damn near invisible.”

  Rachelle fell out laughing. Chester did have a valid point. He was as dark as they come, but that’s one of the things that attracted her to him the most. There was nothing sexier to her than a man with an abundance of melanin in his skin.

  “So why can’t I get the girls some dashikis?”

  “Bryce and Harmony might be okay with them, but Lucky is out of the damn question!”

  Rachelle glowered at him. “Hold up now!
That’s my baby girl you’re talking about. You better watch yourself.”

  “Last time I checked, Lucky was my baby girl, too.” He reached over and started stroking her hand. “After all, I did donate some sperm to the cause.”

  Rachelle clucked her tongue, yanking her hand away from him. “Yeah, but I did all the hard work. I just wish you could feel one contraction and you would see me in a whole new light.”

  Chester put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “You know I adore you, woman.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “All I’m saying is, Lucky is into enough cultural stuff already without adding on the clothing accessories. Have you listened to that child lately? I mean really, really listened? She sounds like Malcolmenia X!”

  Rachelle cackled. “I think her interest in African-American history is a good thing. It’s better than her being interested in boys like Harmony and Bryce.”

  “Lucky better not be interested in any knuckleheads!” Chester snapped. “She’s only twelve and I’m not even having that. I can tell you that much right now. Let one of those anorexic, pea-shaped-head boys come sniffing around here, I’ll break out my ninja suit and pull a Bruce Lee on his ass.”

  Rachelle shook her head. “Chester, you’re fooling yourself. Our little girls are growing up and there’s nothing we can do about it but let nature take its course.”

  “Speaking of the junior Supremes, where are they, anyway? Why is it so quiet around here?” Chester got up off the sofa and walked out into the foyer. He peered up the steps onto the second landing. “I haven’t seen any of those chaps since dinner.”

  “You should be glad!” Rachelle yelled from the living room. “You’re always complaining about never getting to watch Starsky and Hutch in peace.”

  Chester headed back into the living room. “Good point, sweetheart.” He plopped back down on the sofa next to Rachelle. “But, that still doesn’t answer my question. Where are they?”

  “Well, Lucky and Bryce went next door to help Mrs. Harris make cookies for the bake sale tomorrow at the church, and Harmony had a date with Zachary.”

  “A date?” Chester’s eyes jutted out as if he had never heard the word before. “A date where?”

  “The movies I think. Some new one came out last week called Fame.” Rachelle started reading the magazine again, wishing Chester would get quiet so she could read an article about Billy Dee Williams. Ever since Lady Sings the Blues, she’d been having intense sexual fantasies about him. “Chester, relax and watch the show. Harmony and Fatima are double-dating so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Chester sat up on the edge of the seat with worry lines across his brow. “Hmph, Fatima is not exactly the portrait of virtue. The fact that she’s with Harmony only makes it worse. What about that raggedy-ass car of Zachary’s? It looks like it’s held together by duct tape. What if they break down in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Chester, relax!” Rachelle rolled her eyes at him. She knew Chester always took stuff to the extreme. “Zachary’s car is parked in the drive. I let them take our car.”

  “You let them do what?” Chester yelled, almost knocking the coffee table over when he jumped up and headed out in the hallway.

  Rachelle got up to follow him. She discerned that trying to read about Billy Dee was a lost cause. Chester would undoubtedly pace the floor, ranting and raving until the girls came home and were all accounted for.

  She was trying to think of something to say or do that would placate his nerves when they heard the kitchen door slam. Chester half-ran to the rear of the house, startling Lucky, who was searching the fridge for something sweet to drink.

  “Where’s Bryce?” Chester demanded to know without so much as a hello.

  “Oh, hi, Daddy!” Lucky glanced at him for a second, then stuck her head back in the fridge.

  “Lucky, I asked you where Bryce is? Is she still next door?”

  “Actually…,” Lucky began hesitantly, running a series of possible cover-up stories through her mind, “Bryce didn’t go over to Mrs. Harris’s with me.”

  Rachelle jumped in then. “She didn’t? Then where did she go? She hasn’t been here all evening.”

  “Umm, she went over to Brenda’s house to get her history book. She accidentally left it over there yesterday and she needs it to do homework this weekend.”

  “That does it!” Chester hissed. “Rachelle, I’m not going to have these chaps running the streets at all times of the night. Where’s the phone book?”

  Rachelle went to the living room to retrieve the phone book while Chester lit into Lucky. “Why didn’t you make Bryce go with you? You knew good and well the two of you were supposed to be together.”

  “Daddy, Bryce is older than me. She won’t listen to me. I tried to tell her!” Lucky threw her most virtuous look at him, sitting down at the kitchen table to gulp down her cup of juice. She could tell he was past pissed off. It looked like steam was coming out of his ears. “Daddy, guess what?”

  “What?” Chester snapped back at her, not really interested in hearing anything that didn’t pertain to Bryce’s whereabouts.

  Lucky was determined to change the subject. “Did you know that W.A. Lavelette invented the printing press?”

  “Naw, I didn’t know that,” Chester mumbled.

  “Well, he did.” Lucky wrapped her pint-size hand around the glass, hoping that Bryce would show up soon. She hated lying to her parents. “I have a book upstairs about it, if you want me to go get it.”

  Chester was about to yell at her and tell her “Hell naw!” but caught himself. After all, it wasn’t Lucky’s fault Bryce was a fast ass. As much as they showed out, Chester loved his three daughters undeniably. He gazed at Lucky, sitting there with the smooth caramel skin, sepia eyes, and cinematic smile Rachelle had passed on to all of their children. “No, that’s okay, sweetie,” he replied. “You can show it to me tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I will.” Lucky bit her bottom lip, contemplating whether it was a good time to ask him if she could cut her hair short, wear an Afro, and get a nose ring. “Daddy, if it’s okay with you—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, all hell broke loose in the Whitfield household. Chester heard the front door slam and a car screeching out of the driveway at the same time. He peeped out the kitchen window and saw the taillights of Zachary’s tin-can car moving at the speed of light.

  “Bryce, I’m going to kill you!” Harmony blared from the front hall. “I’m going to rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your nosy ass!”

  Chester ran to the front, screaming on his way, “No one uses the word ass in this here house but me! What the hell is going on here?”

  “Daddy, I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” Harmony began, shoving Bryce into Fatima and knocking them both down on the steps. “Bryce hid in the back of the station wagon while Fatima and I were out on a date.”

  Chester’s eyes ballooned as he glared at Bryce. “Say what?”

  Bryce jumped up off the steps so she could exonerate herself. “Daddy, before you go off, you really should be thanking me.”

  “Thanking you for what?” Harmony questioned, wondering what kind of bullshit Bryce was shoveling this time.

  “Thanking me for making you keep your drawers on for one thing,” Bryce blurted out, rolling her sepia eyes at Harmony.

  Rachelle jumped all up in the mix at the mere reference to undergarments. “What’s all this about drawers?”

  “Bryce, I swear if you say one more word, I’m going to make you wish you were dead!” Harmony screamed at her, pinching her arm and almost drawing blood.

  “Let go of me,” Bryce insisted, pulling her arm away. “You’re the one who was about to get busy in Daddy’s car. Then we all would’ve had to pile in there to go to church tomorrow and sit on Zachary’s cum.”

  “What the hell do you know about cum?” Chester demanded. Before Bryce could answer him, he decided he was getting a bit more information than he cared to
. “That’s it! Everybody upstairs to bed!”

  “But, Daddy…” Bryce pleaded.

  “Did you hear me? All of you get your little asses to bed!” He glanced over at Fatima. “You too, Miss Thang! Wait till I tell your parents about all of this!”

  “But I didn’t do anything!” Fatima protested.

  “The hell you didn’t!” Bryce snapped back at her. “You were about to suck Tony’s wigger until the cops showed up and flashed that light in the car.”

  “Police? Lights? Sucking wiggers?” Rachelle couldn’t take any more. She was likely to faint at any second.

  Chester started taking off his wide leather belt. “Did I stu-stu-stu-stutter? Every one of you better get upstairs now or I’m going to start whupping ass and taking names!”

  They all knew he wasn’t playing. Talking about sucking dick was the last straw. Harmony took off up the stairs with Fatima in fast pursuit. Bryce lagged slowly behind.

  Chester yelled up the stairs after them, “In the morning, I’m laying down the law in this here house! All types of punishments! No more telephone time for you Harmony, and I better not catch that Zachary around here again! I should’ve known that fool was only after one thing! Always coming over here, smiling all up in my grill! Tell him I’m going to drop-kick his ass on sight! Just consider yourself grounded, Missy!” He heard Bryce chiding Harmony and went after her next. “As for you, Bryce, it will be a cold day in hell before I let your mother spend another dime of my hard-earned money on one of those floor mats you wear on your head! You’ve got that pretty head of real hair and you’re always trying to cover it up with a wig! I never said it before, but you look ridiculous! Ri-di-cu-lous! Now go to sleep!”

  They all went into the bedroom that Harmony and Bryce shared and slammed the door. Harmony and Fatima started talking trash about Bryce’s wig.

  “Damn, he said you look ridiculous!” Fatima cackled.