Kim Wilson's The Spices In Life (excerpt)

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5
Angelia McCarthy
As the only child of two Federal Court Judges, none of her troubles ever amount to anything. Angelia, as a teen, lives life on her own terms, establishing herself as a force to be reckoned with. She can and will fight; omitting the discipline of Karate.
“I'm not a bully. Either me or my parents gon' back my shit up” she warns her fellow classmates, especially
those who chose to have beef with her.

Angelia is born into the necessary finances, develops the appropriate eloquences and receives all the parental
support mandatory for her to believe she can do all things; through her parents who strengthens her.
Weekends spent in different cities. Winter breaks in Aspen or Miami or St. Kitts. Summer trips to California or the
Bahamas or Venezuela. All she knows is 'Yes'.

“We gone ride with the big boys, Angelia informs Heather as they sit in her humongous room putting on just
enough makeup and Karl Kani clothing to be stunners. That bitch Christine thinks she’s all that well I’ma’ show
her ass.”
“I still don't understand why you and her are at odds...”
“Because she's a spoiled bitch. She's always thought her family was all that because of their wealth. I've hated her every since we were about 10 I guess.”
“10; how can you make an enemy at 10” Heather questions.
“Ain't no age on making enemies. I just chose not to like Christine. I don't have a specific reason; now can we get going or do you want me to tell you about every darn body I hate” Angelia spits.
“No problem Ang. Let’s take your car. My sister is using mines tonight.”
“No doubt. Look in that D&G wallet right there and get $300 in small bills out.”
“Girl you a trip to be floatin’ around that much money. Everybody know yo’ folks paid.”
“I wish somebody would; if you want to go light that’s on you but when you hanging with me and I’m footin’
the bill we ain’t gone miss one damn beat. Whatever everybody else is doing so will we, and even things that won't
be” Angelia snaps, with her spoiled ass.
“Since you say so, I'll ride. Got some weed” Heather ask, already knowing.
“You playin’ right. You gotta’ be playin’; what I look like not havin’ all the party supplies. Weed, right there.
Powder, right there” pointing to a little satchel hanging on her closet door.
“Bet; you is bold with yo' shit.”
“My folks hardly ever come in here and when they do they knock first; to give me my privacy, she mentions
arrogantly. You wouldn't believe the things that go on up in here. I got you” spinning back around to face the
lighted face mirror, to finish stroking her long lashes with black mascara.
“What time we comin’ in” Heather questions.
“You have a curfew?”
“Not really, my parents just like to know about when to expect me. They trip about all the crazy mess going on
around these suburbs” Heather mentions.
Angelia slides the lid back into her mascara, “Let’s be out” ignoring Heather's parental concerns.
They do one last spin in the floor length mirror upon leaving Angelia's Diva-Style decorated bedroom; “Mother,
father, we’re about to leave. We’ll be in around one something” Angelia yells to her parents who are busy watching court related shows on separate TVs.

They park in the high school’s crowded parking lot to finish jamming to LL Cool J which seem to put them in
dual moods; sexual and physical. Angelia sprays Heather with White Diamond perfume to try an kill the weed
smell. Heather puts the half pint Cognac mixed with Belverde in her limited-edition Gucci pocketbook. Angelia
puts a small plastic of powder in her brassiere. They check their faces in the overhead mirrors then exit the white,
washed and waxed GranAm.

Angelia pays the $3 each for them and they go get the party started.
“I know that hoocheycunt is not all up on him like that” Angelia instigates ten minutes later.
“Who you talking… Oh yes she is.”
“Bobby! Bobby, Angelia yells as the music is changing. Get yo’ punk ass over here” she commands.
“Looks like yo’ momma calling you” Veronica over exaggerates in laughter.
“Man that girl be trippin’.”
“When you gon' get some seeing that you already whipped” Veronica digs.
“What y'all got going on” Tracey eggs.
“You better get yo’ punk ass over there” Veronica orders, animated enough to piss Angelia off.
As Bobby steps to the two-live-crew, Angelia and Heather invite Veronica and Tracey to bump heads.
“That bitch really don’t want none,” I say to Tracey.
“Tell them, I already know” waving them over.
“Why don’t you ladies follow us to the dance floor” Gerald guides Tracey as Anderson tugs my arm.

After 4 songs of sweating, Veronica needs a restroom break. They are aware that they haven’t seen their thorns for
over an hour.
“Go to the restroom with me” I tell Tracey who is more than ready.
“We be right back” I say to Anderson.
“Y'all want something to drink.”
“Yep, but we’ll get it when we come back” Veronica informs.
“We been knowing y'all asses to long” Tracey states.

They enter the sparkling restroom. Jenipher and Scolar are all up in the mirror and deep in gossip. The four throw
up the deuce as the two exit. Veronica touches up her makeup as Tracey uses the clean toilet. Tracey washes her
hands as Veronica uses the toilet, and then washes her hands. They remain mute until some other girls leave but
before they could start a conversation they hear giggling. Veronica puts her finger up to her lip to ssshhh Tracey.
“Hurry up and stop spilling my shit” we hear whispered.
“Girl I ain’t about to spill nothing; stop breathing over it before you blow it off.”
Tracey steps up on the toilet next to the giggling. After being a witness she rapidly waves Veronica up. They see
their enemies snorting from a small mound of white powder on a compact mirror and, kissing one another
passionately and, massaging between each other's legs.
“Give me the camera” I indicate quietly.
Tracey obliges. Veronica slowly points and 'click, click, click'. About the time the two coke heads realize what’s
happening they are busted. They stare up at Veronica in sheer disgust. They rush around in the small stall trying to
clean up the evidence and compose themselves.
“You bitches are busted!” I scream in laughter.
Angelia rushes out the stall, hurting herself with the door, to the sink, throwing water under and up her nose.
Heather remains in the stall to ‘up’ to find her way out.
“Let’s go” Tracey says.
“News at eleven” Veronica spits.

The dance has come to an end. The parent/teacher chaperons guide the teens, who are falling over one another, out
the door to get to their cars and or their ride home. Gerald and Anderson beg Tracey and Veronica to accompany
them to Denny's. They refuse knowing they have something much better to be doing which was getting away from
their 23 and 25 year old asses. They have to go to the 24-hour Kodak shop to have prints made so when morning
comes they can 'anonymously' hand deliver them to the parental recipients.

6
MORNING DAWNS
9am Saturday morning Stafford dutifully delivers breakfast and mail to your Honors. Mr. McCarthy quickly process-of-eliminates the less important. The one that catches his attention is mark URGENT: For the parents of Ms. Angelia McCarthy.
He opens the envelope and his breath catches in his throat. “Honey, something very serious has come to my
attention; Mr. Judge McCarthy tells Mrs. Judge McCarthy in an unalarming tone. Get Angelia?”
The Mrs. Walks up the polished staircase, “Angelia honey; her mom calls, tapping on her bedroom door. Angelia honey, your father needs you downstairs right now; he says it’s important.”
As Angelia is sliding the thick quilt off her aching bones because the PosturePedic is no longer helping, Mr.
McCarthy is showing Mrs. McCarthy what's in his hand. Her breath catches also; “Coming.”
She throws water on her face and gargles in her private restroom, then finally makes her way downstairs.
“Yes” she asks in a tone she shouldn't have.
“Look what someone left on the door this morning” handing her digital prints of her restroom break.
I can’t even talk. I rub my eyes to focus on the truth. I look into my parents’ eyes and before I can collect my lie,
I’m slapped silly, over and over again from four unyielding hands.
“We put up with your shit young lady, POW, but to get us, BOP, kick off the bench, BLAM, humiliated, SLAM,
isn’t going to, SLAP, happen!”
“What, BAM, where you thinking, SLAP, and who the hell do you, SLAM, think you are, BOP. You think this,
POW, is a joke, BOP!”
Doing her best to dodge a first time occurrence, as they unload for all the shit her bad ass has gotten away with,
she faints to the floor in hopes of it stopping.
“Get your, SLAP, ass up, pulling her up by her hair, and you, BOP, better hope that, SLAM, this hasn’t gotten,
BAM, passed this house!”
“Give me your car keys, SLAP, your credit cards, BAM, all the money you have on you, BOP, and if I see your
face, SLAM, before I’ve had a chance to calm down, SLAP, this’ll seem like a tickling, BOP!”
Angelia picks her humiliation up and gets it back to her room. She softly closes the door as not to further piss her
parents off; she figured they'd lost their mind. She is stunned by the ass kicking. In 16 years she’s never had one
before; so this is what they feel like. She felt sick. Sick for being stupid enough to get caught doing her do in the
school’s restroom; stupid, stupid, stupid. Sick for letting Veronica and Tracey catch her; them bitches. Sick for the
trouble she may have caused her parents. Just sick; damn. How was she going to make this right. She knows her
days of getting away with shit are over; shit!
Her personal line chimes. She grabs it before the first ring could finish.
“Girl my parents got the photos” Heather tells in a whisper.
“Mine too. My ass is black and blue” I whimper, because my ears are sore against the phone.
“What we gone do if they gave them to other people or the police?”
“Don’t sweat it. My folks are mad as hell but they’ll make this go away.”
“Those bitches gone get it” Heather sweats.
“You ain’t said nothing but a word.”
“You on punishment” Heather inquires.
“I just got punished; I’m on lock down” I tell.
“What we gon’ do about them bitches?”
“I have an idea…”
Her door flies open, “I know you ain’t… give me that damn phone” Mrs. Judge McCarthy demands, snatching
it completely out the wall.

7
A GIFT
After weeks of rehearsing for her solo she's ready. Tracey meets Christine for talent night at the Jazz Club. Though her musical skills are polished, the butterflies still flutter, trying to escape from within her stomach. For some strange reason she wishes her parents would have at least called with well-wishes.
“You straight. You need me to cut the rug or something” Tracey jokes.
“Girl no, laughing. You know my folks not showing.”
“That's not hard to believe. You the only one keep hoping they will; and do they ever” Tracey
mentions, directing her mom to a seat up front and center.
“Girl yo mom never let's me down” Christine mentions, then nods to Mrs. Tracey.
“Why you think I got so much accomplished; parental support honey child.”
“I hear that; lucky you. No sweat though, you can't start missing what you've always missed. I'm
about to do my thang, go take your seat.”
“Now you sure you don't want me to boogy on down in the background” laughing as she gives her
best friend her spotlight.

The curtain is drawn. Christine could hear the crowd of about 200 taking their seats, ordering drinks
and something to eat. She could hear laughing and comedic conversations.
“Tonight we have a new lineup of entertainment. We begin with Ms. Christine Webbster, a 17 year
old pianist, with an original score.
The heavy curtain separates. Christine ignores everything outside of her brain. She begins gently
tapping on the keys,....,....,...., as the intro of her avant-garde unfolds. Two minutes later she's
building to her climax; having a total of four minutes to move the crowd. The last thirty seconds are
so dominating that half the audience is on their feet. The last ten seconds rises the rest. Tears stream
down Mrs. Carter's face feeling the intensity of her pain, as she unleashes from within her emotions. Tracey smiles and nods in a hypnotic state, unfamiliar about her best friend's pain.
Christine finishes; she nods with respect to her piano, then stands and bows to the crowd. Slowly she exits stage right; the butterflies having flown away three minutes fifty seven seconds ago.

8
WEEKS LATER
“Angelia your father and I have decided to relocate to Montana.”
“What! Why” I question as all my 16 years of accumulating friends and foes flash before my light brown eyes.
“I don’t have to explain but I’ll tell you this, it has a lot to do with you and the manners in which you’ve been
conducting yourself; it is no longer acceptable. We were not the only ones who got mail.”
“Mother I’ve apologized hundreds of times for that one incident, I lie. I was experimenting and got caught so I
will not being doing that again, I lie. You can trust me, I lie. There’s no need to move, what about my friends, I
scream. What about me” I cry.
“What about you.”

Angelia becomes invisible in Montana. The girls are not as easily manipulated; she misses her obedient home girls.
She writes back and forth with Heather for the first year but then things go from exciting to boring. She has to find
something different to entertain herself. I decide to strap down and set a course of destiny that would bring about a
whole different person; folks won’t even recognize me, if I do return home.

She steps into the pristine halls of Guesser Academy, co-ed; an educational institution for those that don’t
appreciate the wealth and privilege their parents provide. The academy promotes eloquence and quality in every
aspect of life. The boys aren’t there to interrupt her life but to reinforce sanctity and self-control; plus the stern
instructors aren’t having not one drop of her ignorance. She attires in her school uniform of a dark blue knee-
length pencil skirt, button-up green shirt with white collar and leather sneakers. I disappear from radar.
Two years later, Angelia graduates with honors from her, 40% black, 30% white, 20% players, 60% hustlers,
educational institution. With in 7 years she acquires her Masters and PhD in Business Management from Montana
State University; presenting herself academically and socially skilled in all manners of success. She's put the
majority of her past behind and comes to know that with all life has presented her she surpasses even her wildest
dreams; and nightmares. Her dating preference were and are social nerds seeing she has no intention of becoming
seriously involved, married or, with children. She figures everyone to be emotionally disposable; something she
learned from Christine; the bitch who...