Before there was Twenty and Rahkell and apparently better grammar, I wrote a book when I was 20. Outside of my poetry, it was the first time many of my collegiate friends found out I wrote fiction. I grew up reading Omar Tyree, Sister Souljah, Zane, Ashley and Jaquavis as well as my sister’s works and those were all of the authors I wanted to be like. Zo Diaries was my chance. It was my urban, fast paced, elaborate fiction inspired by the authors I admired. As silly as I feel releasing it to the public, it feels good to finally call it finished and see even as an undeveloped author how my mind worked. For the past four years it has been a reference for all of my Zo fans. They would say, “Yeah, cool, you have this new book, but what about Zo?” and while I can’t promise a full explanation of what happens to Zo, I can promise an ending (finally).

So after 4 years, 2 months and 6 days; Zo Diaries.

The Preview:

Zo 1.

            “Let me tell you about good sex. Good sex is arguably with someone you care about. And I agree sex with someone you care about is the best. As cliché as that sounds, let me explain. Now, some of you all will argue with me, pop your gums and say that that one-night stand with you know who was absolutely amazing. They did some shit you haven’t ever experienced before, and now they won’t even text you back, so you’re hooked. I get it. I get it. But there’s a difference in loving the drug and dating the dealer.” 

            I leaned over the wooden chair’s back, straddling it, the bubblegum once in my mouth now only a fragment between my teeth and my index finger twirling it. I wore a large, black jersey, grey boy shorts, and knee-high white socks wrapped tightly around my calves. 

            There were eight of us in the room including myself, consisting of six guys and two girls, but I didn’t take my eyes off him as I popped all the raunchy thoughts out of my mouth. The fact that there was a woman beside myself in the room said a lot, because I’m not fond of bitches. After just a few of my words, a few objections entered the room, but he interjected them all.

            “No, no, no. Let her finish, I’m curious.” He said, looking at no one else, but me. His black bomber laced the black V-neck he wore under it. I noticed his sage green jeans had rips as he alternated between fidgeting with the holes in his pants and the gold chain around his neck. Got him. 

            Mel rolled her eyes in the corner - her dusted red bob shaking over her perfectly applied makeup and brushing the lining of her blush pink leather jacket. She worked at the nightclub with me as a waitress. She was the only person outside of the family whom I trusted. After working with me for three years, she knew the game I was playing all too well because she watched it happen all the time.

“As I was saying,” I paused, glancing around the room. In it, there were a few of the people we met at Luuch - the club we worked at-tonight, the few others we were familiar with, and then slowly up at him. “There’s a difference in loving the drug and dating the dealer.”

“And the difference is?” another guy from across the room asked impatiently. I glared at him; tongue pushed between my teeth before continuing.

“The drug is temporary. It is your one nightstand, and it controls you, you are the victim. If you’ve ever done any form of a drug - and yes alcohol counts, you know that it never stays for long after it gets you to the point you need to be,” I paused, adding my dramatic effect and then continued.

“Satisfied, but only temporarily. But the dealer, the dealer is the ultimate supplier. Dating the dealer is the true definition of spoiled by satisfaction,” Now I looked directly into his eyes. I bit my lips and then continued.

“You see, the dealer has control over the drug, and as long as the dealer cares about you just as much as you care about the dealer and that drug, your ass won’t ever want for shit. He has access to the full supply; nothing and no one a dealer cares about will ever want for anything. The dealer has got ways and all different kinds of drugs to get you hooked.” I watched everyone in the room slowly nod, as if to come to an understanding. I then stepped up from my chair, making sure every piece of leg was visible all the way up to the line where my shorts started.

“Enough already,” Mel said, reaching for the speaker to play music from her phone on. “We said we were having a party. Where are the people, where are your clothes, and where is the music?” She rolled her eyes and glared at me. I nodded and conceded to her request for clothes.

“Jeremy, make some drinks?” I asked the guy swaying his hips to Mel’s music choice in the corner. He nodded, slowly making his way towards my mini-fridge full of alcohol. I made my way down the hall to my room, dancing all the way.

            It wasn’t long before Jeremy was bringing me a drink as I pressed lipstick on my lips, and I heard more and more people knocking to enter my loft.

            If there is one thing Mel knew how to do, it was throw a party. I heard multiple voices dancing over others as glasses clammed against each other and people danced in the dark spaces between my kitchen and living room. I had only expected it to be just the guys and us after my long night at work, so I was spending most of the party getting myself back presentable. I struggled between picking something loose or tight because I wanted whatever was going to be the easiest to get me out of later. I also didn’t want to wear too much make-up, but I definitely wanted old dude out there lusting. I had selected dark purple lips, a light wing on my eye and mascara, because batting your eyelashes is key to flirting. 

            On my body, I wore a grey t-shirt dress that hugged right around my thighs and zipped on the sides. Once I was satisfied with my look, I walked out of my room into the party in my honor.

            My suede, jet-black knee-high boots stepped in spilled alcohol, and I just knew I would have to clean my floors later. Rolling my eyes tight, I still made my way through the crowd, smiling at every face and letting any dude brave enough take a grip at me as I walked by. They wished they were who I had my eyes on this evening. Quickly I located Mel, who smirked at me as if to say, “I’ve got this party shit on lock,” and then grabbed my hand tightly, placing a small pill clenched between both our fingers. I gave her the most satisfied look in return and kissed her cheek.

“Let the games begin!” I shouted, grabbing the bottle closest to me. Now all I needed to do was find him.

Spotted. My selection for the night in the black bomber was glaring at me from the corner with two girls feeling all up on him. And me? I’m so happy you asked; I was on top of my island, bottle in the right hand, giving everyone in my house a show to some upbeat twerk song. Mel, of course, was right beside me, her own bottle in hand, enjoying herself. It had to be at least 2:30 am and there were over 50 people in my house. It was so hot that we had to open the windows, letting our music pour out onto the quiet streets and that’s when we should’ve known. Moments later, there were loud knocks at my door and a stop to the music. I sobered myself up enough to open the door for three police officers, who all looked pissed enough that they were working a long shift.

“S’there a problem officer?” I asked leaning against my door for support. The heat from my loft escaped into the hallway and they didn’t even try to be sympathetic.

“Look, we need everybody who doesn’t live here out right now. It’s 2:30 am on a Wednesday, people have work in the morning.” I smirked my usual smirk to the officer and nodded. I was looking for any excuse to be alone with Black Bomber anyways.

“Alright everyone,” I called out. “You heard him, out!” Soon, bodies, flooded out one by one into and down my hallway. I made sure to pay close attention and wait for the right moment to grab who I needed. First, I saw Mel, who would normally crash in my guest bedroom on nights like these. I told her to head to bed, and she nodded, nursing the small liquor she had in her cup as she crossed the loft to the bedroom. Then, I saw Black Bomber, and I pushed him back into the house swiftly. My hand was pressed against his chest as he tried to exit, ripping the girl’s hand in front of him from his grip.

“No, no, no, you stay.” I said soft toned. He shrugged, smirked and turned back into the house while the rest of the people left.

Once everyone was gone, I pulled three hundred dollars out of the drawer closest to my kitchen and handed it to one of the cops. He smirked at me and nodded as if he understood. The last thing I needed was a ticket or an eviction notice, so I would do anything to keep them happy. Once the door was closed, I dimmed the lights, giving the room a slight glow. I saw the mess on the floor, on the counter tops and all around me. More importantly I saw Black Bomber, his jacket taken off and laid across the top of the black leather couch. He turned to me and smirked before speaking.

“You uh…do this often?”

“You mean parties?”

“Yeah. You seemed natural on that countertop.” He chuckled. I gazed as I made my way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.  

“So, you were watching?” I asked as I stepped closer, bottle of water in hand, boots clinking against empty bottles of liquor on the floor.

“Of course, I was. I’ve been waiting to get you alone.”

  He sat up straight and looked directly at me. It was the first moment since earlier that I had gotten a real good look at him. His skin was a dark bronze, and his hair was cut real low with waves peaking right out the top. On the sides of his seductive smile were two deep dimples that literally had been speaking to me since we were at Luuch. He had this entire demeanor about him that literally made me want to jump out my damn skin. I scanned him from head to toe, and as I passed his jeans, I could see them tightening around a bulge. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh yeah? You clearly weren’t the only one.” I grabbed my phone from the table near him and nudged my eyes towards him hardening. He wasn’t even shy about it. He just licked his lips and then looked at me.

“Observant-come find out while you’re at it.” He leaned back and motioned me towards him. I shook my head in pleasant disobedience as I made my way down the hall, past the posts and into my bedroom.

“No, no, no, no. You come find out.” 

Boom. Cue the music. I swear, I’m like a pro at this shit. Moments later, he rose from the couch, following me. As he did, I lifted my dress above my head, leaving nothing but the shorts from earlier and the knee-high boots. I felt him watch me with my back facing him, and I slipped my hair out of the messy bun it sat in, so the medium length curly bob brushed against my warm skin. I was up for more teasing, but it became clear he wasn’t waiting when he came directly behind me and scooped me up with ease. I squirmed with excitement. He was at least five inches taller than me, so when he tossed me onto the bed, he towered over me, tore the black V-neck from over his head and then leaned in towards me.

There’s something about a man who takes his time. Not only is it attractive, but it shows patience and maturity. He started with the back of my neck, directly behind my ears, placing soft kisses. He then made his way to my lower neck, running the tip of his tongue over each spot just to see where I squirmed, and believe me, I did. Him being just as sexual as I had hoped he was, was overwhelmingly exciting for me, I even felt myself begin to drip. I tried to exhale lightly, but between the pill, the liquor, and him, I was on edge. I felt his lips pressing against the sides of my stomach as soon as he tore at my boy shorts and removed them with ease.

“Can I…?” he asked between kisses on my upper thigh.

“C-can you…?” I questioned back. Couldn’t he tell he could do whatever the hell he wanted with me and I’d be with it?

He laughed low, biting his lower lip and then looking me in the eye,

“Can I taste you?” Welp. I couldn’t even lie, I almost lost it when he asked, because, like, you had the decency to ask? 

I tried to hurry and nod my head all cool-like he hadn’t caught me off guard, but on the inside my ass was too excited. He lifted my legs around his shoulders, started off slow and then sped up. I wanted to be considerate of Mel in the other room, but I knew damn well you could hear me well over the music.

“Ffffuuuhhhhck.” I tried to whisper, but I know it wasn’t even close.

“Mmmhmm.” He replied, and I bit my lip.

Oh, so you just don’t need air…ever huh?

It wasn’t long before my legs gave into a little tremble. I moaned out a slur of words as my surrender. As he let me down slowly, he licked his lips and stared at me.

“I need one more thing from you.”

“Whatssup?” I tried to ask in a sexy, low voice.

“Condom.”

He brought dick too. Like there’s more. Chill out. Relax. Play it cool.

“Top drawer on the left, but just as a warning this isn’t one of those one size fits all type deals.” I said calmly.

Honest was honest, and I was surprised that he didn’t have his own. He didn’t say a thing, just laughed slightly and shook his head as if I was a child for doubting him. He opened the top drawer on the left and smirked.

Oh ok.

I awoke to an arm wrapped around my waist and the thud of loud knocks on my door. I had the worst headache, and I felt like my body was trying to tear itself from my soul. I turned to see Black -that’s what we are calling him, because we never obtained a name from him yesterday evening - sprawled on one of my thick feather pillows, peacefully asleep.

I’ma let you sleep. You’ve earned it. 

I slowly removed myself from his grip and I grabbed the pink silk robe from the chair pressed against my vanity. I couldn’t even get a hand through my tangled curls as I tried to avoid the bottles that traced from my room to the front door. Mel matched my pace, in a big black sweatshirt and a messy bob. I gave her a curious look through my low eyes. She waved it off as if to say we would talk later. We both made our way to the door. She looked out the peephole first and stepped back quickly.

“Shit.”

“What?” I asked, scratching my head.

“…It’s your sister.” she said in a low voice. I paused before snatching the door open. There she stood.  5’4, caramelized skin, her hair slicked up into a smooth bun, sweats and sneakers on, along with a duffel bag draped on her right side. Her right eye was slightly black, and she looked exhausted.

It had been almost a year since I had heard from her or my Mother. “J…what’s going on?” I asked, slightly breathless.

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