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In their quest for the Good Life, five friends known as The Sugar Bunch, discover the hard way that Money Can't Buy Love...but this diamond will do!
Sneak peak: Chapter 1
In the spring of 2009, I, Samira Manning returned home to 1414 Mulberry Street in Canterbury Cove— a small coastal town in the southern state of Georgia that was clearly named for the Yankees who stole it. I sat like a porcelain doll on a window seat in the attic affectionately known as the Princess Lair. The attic was my favorite place in grandmother Manning’s house. It was beautifully decorated and cozy with pink carpet, matching pink comforter, and curtains, a full-sized bed, and a window seat with lots of frilly pillows sewn in a tapestry of patterns that seem to tell a story. Granny had decked it out just for me when I was about 8 years old. With the exception of a bit of dinginess, dusty corners, and a few cobwebs, it was exactly as I’d left it.
Granny’s house was an old Victorian house that was willed to her by her mother who actually used to work for the white family that once owned it and willed it to her. The house was similar to the house Spielberg used for the color purple but Granny’s house had blue sidings, white shudders, and it always smelled like fresh peaches.
Growing up in Canterbury Cove, I had four best friends: Taja Randall, Temple Harold, Phoenix Baxter, and CC Daniels. Uncle Walter called us The Sugar Bunch. He said he thought we were the sweetest little girls in the world, and for a time, we were.
Surrounded by a few acres of land on Mulberry Street in this small sleepy town of Canterbury and less than a mile from the eastern shore, this place was heaven on earth. Wild Flowers grew to be 3 feet tall where my friends and I as children, loped through the meadows and napped under low hanging Weeping Willow trees, listening to the sound of cool soft water running over smooth rocks in nearby Raspberry Creek. The land had deep, dense forests with floors carpeted by bright green ferns that emerged every morning from a thick grey mist. When the sun filtered down through the trees at high noon, the forest came alive. However, not even a spring breeze that carried the scent of honey suckles, lilac and white lilies could penetrate the fishy smell of the Atlantic ocean and all my friends and I wanted to do was to grow up and move away.
As adolescence, my friends and I never saw this place for the Eden that it was. As far as we were concerned the town was a hotbed of old lady gossip, Jesus thumpers, and family secrets. But among the worst of it was the wretched heat that drained our youthful strength and mirrored what we believed was our miserable lives; hastening our imaginings of a better life. We spent most of our lazy summer days resting on the porch in Granny’s rocking chairs or swinging on a beat up tire that hung from an ancient oak in her back yard. Baseball, biking and roller skating were out of the question until well after dark or we just saved it for the fall and winter. Summertime in the Cove got as hot as hell. So much so, the devil himself could have made it his home. He would have loved it here. From June to September, the temperature rarely fell below 95 degrees, the humidity was thick as tomato soup and the lonesome cry of seagulls was constant.
Granny’s home had provided a source of love and security when ever I was in crisis but she couldn’t be everywhere all the time. Being part of a loud boisterous bunch like the Mannings with uncles, aunts, and cousins always mingling about, a small girl like me had to find her place of solace. And, so, I learned to be resourceful without her. That was how I discovered the attic and for the first time in many years, the old Princess Lair was alive again with laughter, memories, and love.
As I observed my friends from my window seat, things felt exactly the way they used to; especially with the Sugar Bunch sitting on my bed, thumbing through old photos of the five of us. But, it was clear that life changed us.
Taja was tall, beautiful and articulate, and of the five of us, the most materialistic. She’d grown into a sexy intellectual. She was the Prima Donna, sassy and sophisticated, but a tad over confident at times. Taja’s greed for the finer things in life mirrored her true ambitions.
Temple was the spiritual one and quite insightful but only saw what was wrong in her life, never anybody else’s. That made her eager to please which also made her an easy target for sleazy people. She was the prime example of what spending our younger years inside the Foster Care system did to us. Still, she was genuine and friendly. Although she proved herself to be a worthy nanny in high demand throughout Atlanta, Temple’s envy for what other women had, sometimes distorted her perception of family.
Phoenix carried herself with an air of self importance. She was confident and kind but nothing was ever good enough. But, she was always the life of the party so when she was unhappy, we quickly noticed. From the age of five, Phoenix had Hollywood dreams and was willing to say, to hell with everything while in pursuit of them. She wanted the limelight, but with all her pride would that be enough? She often got in her own way when it came to the things she loved most— mainly Timothy.
CC was frank and had an explanation for everything. Everything had a rhyme or a reason. She also had the most beautiful speaking voice. It was soft and silky yet deep and raspy and we loved to hear her speak. We would ask her questions just so she’d talk. However, CC told the truth too, and didn’t care about hurting our feelings. If she thought we needed to hear it, she told us. The good thing was that she was okay with us doing the same with her. But as grownups, when it came to the opposite sex, CC believed every man she met was the one. Jokingly, we referred to her as the Delusional Seductress which sometimes made her angry. But most of all CC loved to dance. While touring the US with a dance company called Freedom, CC landed a job in Las Vegas. As a professional dancer, she found freedom in her performances. Off stage, she could be anything but her. Her mother ran with a lover, leaving her at the tender age of seven to fill her shoes and take the brunt of her father’s love, lust, and anger toward her mother. So at times, CC didn't know who she was; CC, C’arah, or somebody else.
I was imaginative and impulsive. I acted first and thought about the consequences later. I constantly needed to feed my personal interests, but there was no way for me to do that living in a small town like Canterbury and be successful. I desired a better life than I knew and a better man than daddy. I was determined to have the rich life and perfect husband I dreamed of as a child and insisted on marrying my rich, Wide Receiver, boyfriend Brian Broderick. My love for Brian was unconditional, for better, or worse. And when worse came to worse, I held on tighter.
The Sugar Bunch had decided early that if we wanted to live the kind of life we dreamed of and leave the past behind, we needed to get out of this town. We did eventually get out and promised never to return. We went on to live amazing lives. But on this spring day, in the attic, our memories returned with us and they returned with a vengeance. Especially the one’s we’d rather forget. For the memories that mattered most, I’ll start from the beginning. I remember one particular night in the fall of 1989 like it was yesterday. It was October 14th.
“CC, where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting two hours for you,” I said as she stepped inside and I closed the door to the attic.In the back of my mind I knew where she had been and what she was up to. I just hoped she took care of whatever she needed to take care and could relax a bit.
“You don’t have to worry about me Samira, I can take care of myself,” CC said and pushed past the four of us and plunked herself on the bed.
“We know how grown up you think you are CC, but that still doesn’t mean it is okay to disappear the way you do,” Phoenix said then took a seat in the chair near the closet and threw her leg across the arm of it swinging her leg anxiously back and forth; the strings to her red and white Nikes dangling loosely.
“Grown up, I think I am?” CC shot back.
“So what you got?,” Temple asked quickly changing the subject then sat on the bed beside CC and looked at her curiously. CC reached into her pink and white Hello Kitty back pack and pulled out a fifth of Absolute vodka and cracked the top open. Next she pulled out another bottle.
“Hold this,” she said to Temple and handed her a quart of cranberry juice. The moisture from the bottle dripped on Temples’ cut off Calvin Klein jeans that were rolled up just above the knee so she set the quart of juice on the floor by the foot of the bed.
“Where’re the cups?” CC asked looking at me as if I should have been ready to pour. How could I have known she would bring liquor with her to the Princess Lair? That was something new. We usually stole Uncle Walter’s vodka.
“Here,” I said and handed her one cup out of a stack of white, Styrofoam cups. CC took it and poured an ounce of liquor in it and drank it quickly.
“You never answered my question,” I said again. I stood with both hands in the back pockets of my Tommy Hill jeans waiting patiently for a response from CC.
“Samira, I was home, okay?” she said then poured another sip and downed that quickly, too. She seemed preoccupied and never actually looked any of us in the eye. She just sat on the side of the bed with her drink looking way too mature.
“What are you wearing?” I asked but that time she ignored me. I passed out the rest of the cups that were left and we filled our cups with vodka and cranberry juice. We were just 12 years old then.
Earlier that day, the five of us had agreed to meet upstairs in the Princess Lair. I planned a special slumber party because we had a lot to talk about. CC showed up two hours late trying to hide the fact that she was upset, carrying vodka and fruit juice. My friends and I could see right through it, though. We had been worried about her all evening and wondered where she’d disappeared to. When she did finally show up, we noticed she was dressed provocatively in a short fitted black dress that was a little too big. She wore black leather shoes that were also a size too big. And the colorful shawl that was wrapped protectively around her shoulders and wearing too much mascara made her look old and her eyes look twice their size. I don’t know what she called what she did to her hair.
We chalked that up as another CC episode which brought back other memories. We would settle in a circle on the attic floor with our legs folded to play our favorite young girl game: Spin the Bottle. As we did so, we tried to appear unconcerned about CC, but our concern for her was often hard to mask. As usual, she pretended not to notice.
At the center of the circle was a bonfire of burning ambers too hot to touch by anyone but us. Only we could stoke the fires of crackling secrets. Each of us took a spin on the Sangria bottle that was filled with beads and colorful stones so that it made a noise as it spun. It was Taja’s turn to spin. When the bottle stopped, it pointed at Temple.
“Hmm let me see,” Temple said after taking a sip of her drink. “Before they put me in the foster home with Mrs. Harold, I think I was four, my other foster dad, Mr. Jamison, would come home from work acting like he was all glad to see me, then he’d pick me up and swing me around laughing and smiling and shit. But somehow his hands always landed in my crotch when he put me down,” Temple said. “He was so nasty and I hated him. He always smelled like beer, too so that’s why I ran away when I turned six, but Mrs. Jamison found me in my closet hiding under all my clothes,” Temple said looking each of us square in the eye.
We played Spin the Bottle often and we played the Sugar Bunch way. Since there were no boys allowed in the attic to kiss in the traditional sense, we made up our own rules. When the bottle pointed to one of us, we’d sometimes kiss each other or we’d drink a shot of liquor and reveal something about ourselves; things we would never tell anyone. Spin the Bottle wasn’t the only game we played.
“Are you kidding?” Temple asked. I am not kissing, Taja!”
“Just do it Temple. How else are you supposed to learn?” said Phoenix.
“Alright, alright, come on,” Temple giggled then leaned forward with her eyes closed. Taja’s warm breath brushed Temple’s cheek then their lips touched. Taja placed her hands gently on Temple’s shoulders and they held the kiss for at least a minute. There, now, was that so bad?” Taja asked. As their lips parted, Temple’s eyes remained shut and her lips puckered as if she really enjoyed the kiss. We giggled and took turns kissing each other. We laughed and continued our game of spin the bottle.
There were other more provocative games we discovered growing up in a boring town like ours. For instance, there was the “Pleasure Principle,” which we named after the Janet Jackson song that was hot about that time. One of us knew a little bit more about her body than the rest of us and showed us exactly where the “Pleasure Principle” was. I remember that day. We were again, in the attic. And we didn’t need to ask how she discovered it.
After establishing an interest in our female anatomy and out of curiosity and excitement, we explored and discovered intimacy with each other. We were young girls learning about life on our own, and that game would be one of our most burning secrets. That also meant that when it came time for that first real kiss, we were already experts.By the time we got our periods, around fourteen, we already knew every inch of our bodies and on numerous occasions, giggled at seeing our anatomy up close with personal thanks to Barbie Big Head’s pink, plastic-framed, hand-held mirror.
Over the years we played lots of games in the Princess Lair and shared secrets we wouldn’t tell a soul. In time, toys and tea parties became candlelight and wine, a heightened interest in boys and besides the stories Taja told us about her family’s travels, we watched rated R movies to learn what life was really like outside of Canterbury Cove.
We were expert sexual virgins by age fifteen, and we promised to remain that way until marriage, but promises are often broken, vows are to be cherished, but secrets…secrets can mean a matter of life or death; success or failure.
After that last memorable episode in the Princess Lair when we were twelve, I remember the next morning, after we’d finally fallen off to sleep. It was early dawn. The five of us lay sprawled about in the Princess Lair looking like anything but princesses. Bodies, blankets, and pillows were everywhere. White Styrofoam cups littered the nightstands, the dresser, and a few were tipped over on the carpet along with spilled, buttered popcorn, and empty, potato chip bags. We had bad hangovers when the phone call came around . Granny quietly opened the door, then softly called out to CC and motioned for her to follow her back out to the hallway.
After some time, CC returned emotionless and wore a blank stare.Awake by then, the rest of us stood silently staring at her and she stared back at us. Granny had informed CC that her father was found dead. None of us uttered a word. We continued to stand there staring at each other, speaking only with our eyes. Finally, I put my arms out to CC thinking she needed to cry, but she just walked past me and sat on the window seat and stared into the trees. We left her alone and lay back down, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Temple was off alone praying in a whisper as she sometimes did. She occasionally recited bible verses when she was nervous. She was. She did.
Phoenix sang softly to drown out her thoughts. Taja stood before the mirror and brushed her hair a hundred strokes. I fantasized about a black prince on a white horse taking me away from here. However, once the news of CC’s father’s death settled in on us, we went about the rest of our day making it seem as normal as possible. We cleaned up the Princess Lair and stashed what was left of the vodka and juice. But since it was raining out, we stayed inside and lounged in our underwear watching VH1 tapes of Drop Dead Fred, Lace, Princess Caribou or anything starring Phoebe Cates. Granny returned later that day with ham sandwiches, fried chicken, fruit, and lemonade. We ate, drank, and slept the rest of the day away.
Eventually CC went to stay with an aunt who lived in the next town so we were still able to see each other and keep in touch. I remember the five of us walking along Meadow Lane after school one day and for some reason, Taja needed to talk. She spoke quietly so people couldn’t hear.
“We can’t talk to anyone,” Taja said. I don’t care who it is! You got that Temple?”
“Why are you singling me out?”
“Cause you know how you are!”
“I resent that!”
“You always think you’re doing the spiritually cleansing thing by talking about your issues, Temple. This time just forget it. Forget everything!” Phoenix said.
“Shut up, all of you!” said Taja. “And I don’t want to have this conversation again. Ever! You hear me?” We all agreed and continued to walk in silence. That’s when Officer Howard pulled up beside us.
“You doing okay, Ms Daniels?” he asked CC as his police car cruised the curb.
“I’m doing just fine officer,” she said clutching her school books and emphasizing her southern drawl.
“Well you let me know if you need anything sweet’ums,” he said. CC nodded and we kept walking. That day we took a vow of secrecy we would carry to our graves. CC didn’t cry the day her father died, and she didn’t cry at his funeral. None of us did. We sat straight faced in the pews and waited patiently for the service to end. On the inside, we were happy that her nightmare had finally ended. How could we know that was just the beginning? Though Detective Howard of the Atlanta Police Department poked around Canterbury Cove for about a week asking questions about the death of Mr. Daniels, nothing came of the investigation and his death was ruled an accident. That set well with us and we went on with our lives.
The Sugar Bunch made a pact to forget the past and leave this misty, muddy, green, and gray soap box by the sea. We planned to attend historic black colleges and marry beautiful rich men. 'Nothing but the best, never settle for less!' was our daily affirmation. We aimed to be on top of the world and would do whatever we had to do to stay there. Right after high school graduation we hit the pavement like lightning running towards our lives. We set out on journeys where we would experience life’s cherries, the bitter and sweet. We would live up to our personal truths, while on the other hand, ran from the truth.
As Taja, Temple, Phoenix, and CC sat on my bed these 19 years later thumbing through old photos of the five of us, I sat watching from the window seat as the faces of my friends told their stories; each one revealing the bright and dark side of life. Their faces told how their tumultuous lives were consumed by raw feelings and emotions, life altering experiences, and an assortment of thrills and challenges. Most of all, their faces revealed the treasures that were our lives…
These are our stories…
Purchase Money Can't Buy Love - but this diamond will do! on amazon.com Also available on Kindle!
Never waste precious moments on nonsensical stuff! Make every moment count even if the moment is just spent imagining the life you want! You can never get those moments back and often you wind up wasting more time thinking about how you could have, should have, would have spent those moments.
