Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones Chapter 4 Shattered Fairy Tales Part 2

Reflections of A Woman’s Indiscretions

This book is dedicated to my mother Elena, grandmothers Josephine & Evril, & to all the Ladies in my life – Strong women I have seen Prevail no matter the circumstances or challenges.


Sharine Jones

I returned wearing a hot pink bikini; my breasts were looking plump and tantalizing. And even though I was lacking booty, it was still enough for him grab onto. I was hoping he liked what I had on, because I wanted his hands all over me. “I’m totally feeling him,” I thought to myself, when I stepped into the hot tub–the steaming water tingled my body. A few minutes has passed by and Slimm joined me with two glasses of champagne and a bowl of strawberries. After he gently hand fed me with strawberries, one by one, while sipping on our bubbly, we played with each other in the private spa until we became too hot–and soon we finished what we started upstairs. I went to bed that night feeling that I was in a fairytale – I finally found the man I deserved.

May 2005

Five months had passed since I moved in with Faith. It wasn’t so bad because my kids’ grandparents lived next door and Blu’s home was only 15 minutes away, so it wasn’t like we were apart–even though we really were. That was my main reason for needing my own apartment. I wanted my kids with me like they always had been. Although we spent every afternoon together at the library and hung out regularly, I still felt incomplete. It’s a mother’s job to raise her kids in the home with her, especially if she’s healthy and able-bodied, otherwise there is no excuse.

When I was eight years old, my parents were separated. My sister and I lived with my dad for three years before moving back in with our mom. Those three years, being separated from her, were challenging for us as children. We missed her and wondered why we couldn’t be with her. I promised myself then that when I became a parent, my children would always be with me. And so there it was; I just wanted my kids with me. It was my responsibility to raise them and I had a duty to fulfill my role as a mother. I had to get my life in order. And so, I started by finding an apartment.

I was on my job for three months stacking bread and trying to handle my business. It was only a matter of time before I found a new home and a life that I can call perfect. Or so I thought. It’s crazy sometimes you create plans for your life, thinking it will be exactly as you envisioned it, but life has a way of doing its own thing and you have to be prepared for the unexpected.

June 2005

The beginning of June marked Slimm’s birthday and a trip to Las Vegas; I booked a room and two plane tickets for us. We were going to be away for four days and I was looking forward to it! Blu and I never took trips together, unless you count our honeymoon. So I was hyped about it! We did a little bit of everything: fine dining, gambling, shopping, bar hopping, picture taking and sightseeing. It was perfect! And our trip actually started out great. However, by the third night it took a different turn.

Initially, everything seemed cool–no drama in sight and it was nice. That night we were ‘lit’ (buzzed). [We were in Vegas so I don’t have to tell you how much alcohol was being consumed by either of us]. We walked hand-in-hand down the strip, enjoying each other’s company. The streets were crowded with people: young and old, women half naked strutting their stuff, and men galore. People were drunk, being obnoxious and extra friendly. It was a typical Vegas night.

As we walked inside Harrah’s Casino, Slimm became belligerent. He grabbed my arm with force and yanked me to the side. I then became all too aware that when he drinks too much, he becomes aggressive and quarrelsome. Therefore nothing had to be wrong for him to “bust a nutty.” I did not know if he was irate because I made eye contact with a man or if that man said “hello” to me. I truly had no idea what set him off this time. But then again, nothing was needed to set him off.

We exchanged words, as I tried to pull my arm away from his grip. Finally he released his grip and yelled, “I’m getting the fuck outta here!

He stormed off leaving me stranded in the middle of the casino looking like a damn fool.

I could not believe that this asshole would just ‘up and leave’ his girl on the strip by herself! Stunned I was, I walked out of the casino in search of a cab. I found one within a few minutes and made it back to my hotel about 15 minutes later. I unlocked the door to our room and bravely walked in. I saw him laid out on the bed, chillin’ like everything was fine.

Heated in the moment, I screamed:

“How the fuck are you just gonna leave your girl on the strip without a warning?! Anything could’ve happened to me! Or is that what you were hoping for?!”  

“You found your way back didn’t you? You alright,” he responded nonchalantly.

Without any forethought or hesitation, I took my heel off and hurled it at him. He grabbed me and wrestled me onto the bed–putting his hand over my mouth to muffle my screams. I kicked him and he threw me off of the bed and onto the floor. That’s when I knew I had enough.

I didn’t come all the way to Las Vegas to fight, or worse, go to jail.

I separated myself away from him, and went into the bathroom to shower. I returned to find him passed out on the sofa.

The sun rose a few hours later and it was as if nothing ever happened. He woke up in a loving mood asking what I wanted to do for the day. I didn’t say a word about the night before; I let it go–I didn’t want another unnecessary argument. That last day was drama-free; we enjoyed a gondola ride at the Venetian Hotel. The day continued with more pictures, more cocktails, and more denial of our dysfunctional relationship.


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