OMG! Why am I in conflict with my characters? Chelsea and Asia are really starting to get Out of Control. I don’t know which one is the good one and which is the bad. Could they both be so different that they are really alike? I don’t know. I just know that it is about to go down between the two of them.
Monthly Archives: November 2013
Greetings to you all! My name is Chelsea and I am fabulous….as you will soon find out. I am an intelligent black woman who knows what she wants out of life and is not afraid to go after it.
I started at the bottom and look where I am now. I own one of the hottest hair salons in town. I have a crew of stylist working for me that are second only to me! If you don’t believe me, the next time you are in Houston…look me up!
You may not like me, but you don’t pay my bills! So, who gives a hell what you think. You may think I got a bit of an ego problem…well, I do. It may seem like I think I am better than everyone else…well, I am. If I don’t think it, then who will. You feel me? Okay, well maybe you don’t. If you don’t, then you know what you can do for me…buy your copy of Secret Discretion to find out more about me, Chelsea!
I watched Chelsea as she went about her everyday life and assumed it was better than mine, but in reality, I didn’t have a clue. In all actuality, no one knows what or how others truly feel. You don’t know their pain, unless they tell you. They may appear to be on top of the world when in fact their world may be silently crashing in all around them. You can try to be a good friend to a person; however, some friends take friendship for granted. When they do, you may be forced to make some difficult choices.
Chapter 1- Asia
“These old pictures really bring back some memories,” I said as I looked through my old photo album with my sister, Macy.
“Look at you and Chelsea. I remember that day. Y’all were leaving for your senior prom.” Macy laughed. “Remember y’all rented a stretch limo and doubled dated with…what’s his name?”
“Yes, please don’t you dare say his name either. You might make me have a bad memory,” I said as I continued to flip the pages.
“Yea, those were the good ole’ days. Things sure did change.” I sighed.
I remember the first day I met Chelsea. She moved from Virginia to Texas during our junior year of high school after her mom and dad divorced. She lived about two doors down from me. Every morning she would meet me at my house so we could get on the bus together—thank goodness that didn’t last long. Chelsea was four months older than I, and when she got her driver’s license, her dad bought her a brand new Nissan 280-Z, and we never rode the bus again.
We did everything together. We both worked at Willowbook Mall at the clothing store, New York and Company. We attended the same church, sang alto in the choir, and ushered on third Sundays. We played on the school’s basketball team, competed on the debate team, and took most of the same classes. We also applied and were accepted into the same university. We shared just about everything—except our men. That was where we always drew the line.
As with all friendships, Chelsea and I did have our differences. Chelsea seemed to do everything just a little bit better. She sang better, so she always had the lead in church solos. She played better, so she got more playing time. Because of her outgoing personality, she always had higher sales at work. It seemed like I couldn’t compete with her. Why should I? She was my best friend. I wasn’t jealous, envious maybe, but never jealous.
It wasn’t until Chelsea became a cheerleader, during our senior year, that things really seemed to change.
“Asia, guess what?” Chelsea said as she stood beside my locker.
“You made the squad,” I said nonchalantly.
“How you know?” Chelsea asked.
“Who doesn’t know? You told about a hundred other people before you came to me, so don’t even front. Plus, Tonya told me last block,” I said while almost slamming Chelsea’s hand in my locker.
“Oh, okay. Well, I hope you are happy for me. This won’t change a thing. You still my ace. I love you, but I gotta go. I don’t want to be late for my next class,” she said. “Oh yea, I have to stay back for cheering practice today, so you need to ride the bus home.”
The bus! Well, damn.