Page 1 of 10,000 Hours With A Rich Menace

Prologue

Stevie Raye

My momalways joked that I would be late to my own funeral because I was always running behind on time, and so unorganized. My mother had OCD, so growing up every room in our home was perfect.

Well, except mine.

She would always joke that she birthed her complete opposite, but we were thicker than thieves. After my parents’ divorce, my mother tossed me into everything to help soften the blow of my father being out of our home.

Although, he wasn’t ever there to begin with.

I don’t know how many times I had to sit in the middle of my bed and listen to my mother and father scream back and forth because my father was gone for more than a few days. She would scream, trying to get him to understand the effect of his daughter having an absentee father in the home.

He never cared.

It was funny that she said I would be late for my own funeral, and I was on time for hers.

Well, it wasn’t funny.

I stood in front of her casket, and stared at her beautiful chestnut skin, her favorite peach lipstick that she would buy from Mary Kay covered her lips. Her curly hair was pushed back away from her face, and she looked like she peacefully resting.

Like I usually found her when she came home from a long day of work. As a therapist, she sat and listened to everyone’s problems, and no one ever listened to hers. Every time she came home, she would say, “Stevie, my brain is just tired,”and would go rest on the couch to avoid oversleeping before dinner.

The couch was her favorite place to sleep and enjoy her time. So, it was no coincidence when I came in from work and discovered her napping on the couch. After showering, painting for a bit, and then deciding on dinner, I decided to wake her up so she could change out of her work clothes, and we could enjoy dinner together.

Her hands was cold to the touch, and she had no life or breath in her body.

Gone.

Long faded from the world where I was. My mind wouldn’t allow me to believe that she was gone. It told me she was napping, and I needed to continue to prepare dinner for her. My heart nor my mind couldn’t take my mother being gone.

She was my best friend. My everything, and the only parent that I had. My father had always been in and out of my life, never sticking around for too long. He was an associate more than a parent.

As much as my brain and heart wouldn’t accept reality, here I stood in front of her casket in a small church in Flatbush, Brooklyn, with a few of her colleagues, my cousin, Skyler andher mom, and the man from her favorite corner store saying goodbye to her.

I heaved a deep breath as the tears fell down my cheeks. I’ve always been such a time bomb, never knowing the proper timing to show up somewhere, being messy, and always forgetful. I talked to myself most days and even answered myself. It was safer to live in Stevie’s world than the actual real world. My mama was the person who kept the train wreck on its track and now she was gone.

Forever.

“Whenever you’re ready we can go,” Mario, my boyfriend, put his arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze.

I looked up at him, his bronze skin, curly hair, and freshly plucked eyebrows. Mario was way too pretty to me, and it was to be expected. I met him on a photoshoot set while working as an assistant. I was fixing one of the model’s nails that day, and Mario came over and asked me to give him a quick manicure.

His height and perfect chiseled cheeks was enough for me to give him the manicure, and instead of offering me a tip or something since I wasn’thisassistant, he slipped his number to me on my way out.

I would have much rather the money.

Still, this was a model that clearly was interested in me, so I couldn’t turn him down over non-payment for a funky manicure. Oh, how I wish I would have turned him down because the pressure for sex, attitude problem, and his fear of commitment had been more of a headache than the damn manicure.

I continued to try with Mario, knowing that neither of us were going anywhere. He didn’t want to be in a relationship because he wanted to do him, and I was just being strung along for the ride.

My mom told me she thought I was settling by being with Mario, and I didn’t understand what she meant. Mario was amodel, and from the amount of women that stayed under his comments, he was well wanted from all walks of life.

And he wanted me.

Well, only a piece of me since he couldn’t seem to commit to being my boyfriend and wanted to keep thingslight.

What did that even mean?

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