LL Blog Series: Mamacita: Chapter Two: Mercedes

Author's Note: This story contains content that is graphic. Viewers/Readers discretion is advised.

Copyright © 2019 By Edward Anthony

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic and mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — expect in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without written permission.

Mercedes, also known by loved ones as “Cede,” (say-dee) is a woman like no other. She has the zest of a cha-cha dancer...yet, a personality— not to mention looks— hotter than Pepper X. She’s a woman with a slim and trim build; long, silky brunette hair, who is well endowed and proud. Yet, with everything she could offer any man physically, there is something her heart longs for that drives her well beyond the brink of her feisty passion.

Mercedes Santa Cruz was born in Bogota, Colombia to Evelyn, a Colombian, and Jose Santa Cruz, a Mexican who was stationed in Colombia while serving in the Mexican army. After four years in the military, Jose and Evelyn migrated to the Bronx borough of New York in 1993. The family suffered miserably after Jose lost his job as a forklift mechanic/technician in 2003.

As money was running out, the family went down a gradual path of destitution. Jose, a very passionate and proud man, refused to accept government assistance and was determined to find work, but it seemed as if every door he went to was slammed shut in his face. His determination was teetered down to defeat more and more each day. He resorted to drinking to ease his pain; alleviate his stress, drown his sorrows.

To make ends meet, Evelyn took on a job as a waitress in a bar, and even Mercedes’ older brother, Ricardo (AKA “Rico”) started working the evening shift at a bodega before it closed at night while going to school during the day. Beyond frustrated with her family’s situation and devastated to see her dad as a shell of his former self, and refusing to work nickel-and-dime jobs, Mercedes decided to hit the streets. Both Jose and Evelyn were suspicious of her whereabouts, but Evelyn was too focused on morally supporting her husband and helping him get his life back on track to attend to her.

Rico was well aware of Mercedes’ coming and going; while he didn’t agree with it and tried numerous times to convince her not to sway in that direction of life, deep down he knew she wanted more than what she was getting— he couldn’t blame her— and most for the part, chose to stay out of her way.

She would leave the house at any given moment, day or night, sneaking her dad’s M1911 out with her to help “make ends meet.” This business consisted of pick pocketing, being a stick-up, and occasionally drug trafficking. The extra income helped pay the bills and kept food on the table, but Mercedes wasn’t satisfied. She became addicted to the streets, and the streets were addicted to her as if they were a couple who were made for each other— like a moth to a flame.

Night after night she regrettably lied to her father about her whereabouts, saying she was by the parents of either Jasmine Alvarez or Jennifer Gomez, two long-time friends of hers. There were times where that was the case— sometimes, she would go to either one, and eventually wander off to the streets— but most of her time was spent hustling money or others for their money. She did her best to hide her secret life from her dad, who often wondered where the money was coming from, but never took the time to question.

He was never a religious person, unlike Evelyn, but if there was a god, he was definitely thankful not to be out of a house and thrown out on the streets. Mercedes herself took after her dad on that questionable mindset towards religion. She never understood how if there’s truly a god, why would he let her, and her family suffer the way they were.

As for her friends, Jasmine, “Jazzy,” as most would call her, lived in the same apartment building that Santa Cruzes moved into not too long after migrating to New York. She’s the one Mercedes hangs around often; one of the reasons being is because Jazzy is understanding and is always there to lend an ear and a shoulder to cry on, with no complaints. Another reason is Jazzy is also too lenient with Mercedes; she tends to give her wild behavior a pass.

Jennifer, on the other hand, is the total opposite of Jasmine, and while she’s the other close friend of Mercedes, their relationship is unique in that they argue quite often. Even when not arguing, they have a rather strange of way bonding. It’s a situation where they often find themselves on the edge of the cliff, but never taking the leap.

Bronx, New York: Present Day

“What’s good, Jen?” Mercedes asks as their walking down the street heading to Mercedes’ apartment.
“Nothing much, girl. A little tired, but I’m good.”
“Oh okay. Still doing your singing thing?”
“Yeah, girl, still pushing for it. That’s why I’m so tired.”
“I’m saying, I mean, something’s going on. I hardly hear from your ass anymore.”
“I know, I know. It’s keeping me busy, though. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mercedes asks rhetorically. “Look, I know we have our squabbles sometimes, telling me shit I don’t wanna hear, but have I ever pushed you away or told you not to come near me?”
Jennifer thinks about it for a moment. “No, you haven’t.”
“You had to think about it?”
“Look, we’re rolling to your place now, right? Relajarse. Stop being so damn sensitive.”

Arriving at the apartment building— a spot where Mercedes is now staying with her brother— she opens the door to let them in. As they enter, Rico is sitting at the dining room table, typing on the computer. A childhood crush of Jennifer’s, seeing him always puts a smile on her face, no matter what she’s going through or what mood she was in.

“Hi, Rico,” Jennifer greets in an unwittingly somewhat giggly schoolgirl way.
Rico stops typing and looks up. “Hi Jennifer. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She walks over to the chair next to him.
“Well, I’m going to my room.” Mercedes says walking past both of them. She stops by the entranceway of her room, turns and sees Jennifer still standing over Rico, watching his computer screen. “Sit ya ass down next to him. You know you like him.”
“Bitch, fuck you.” Jennifer responds.
“No bitch, fuck you.” A grin flashes across Mercedes’ face as she’s shaking her head, opening the door to go into her room.
Rico shakes his head in disbelief. “And you two are friends?” He asks Jennifer.
“Yeah, that’s how we along.”
“You two have weirdest fucking friendship I’ve ever seen,” He says. “Y’all were like that since you were little. A few times I thought I was gonna have to break you two up, but you would stop just short of fighting.”
“It’s weird, I know, but our relationship was built on it.”

Rico once again shakes his head.
“I know one thing. That’s my girl; that’s how we rock. Nobody else bet not fuck with her.”
“The crazy part is, Jen, I believe you when you say that,” Rico admits. “I don’t think you would let anybody hurt her, and she wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You’re darn right, Rico,” She replies. “But enough about us, what’s going on with you?”
“Checking out some of these ads from potential clients.”
“Oh, you’re still in marketing?”
“Yep. I was recently promoted to Sr. Copywriter.”
“Oh wow. Felicidades!”
“Gracias. What about you? Still singing?”
“Yeah. I’m really close to signing with an agent.”
That diverts Rico’s attention from the computer. He turns, giving his full attention to Jennifer. “Oh really?”
“Really. Like I was telling Cede, that’s what has been keeping me so busy lately.”
“So, you’re dropping an album?”
She takes a deep breath. “Not yet, but I’m working on one. Of course, you know these things aren’t guaranteed to be a hit, so hopefully—”
He puts his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. “Jenny, you got this. Don’t let that doubt creep in. You’ll be fine.”
“You’re right, Rico. It’s probably my exhaustion talking. Spending so much time at the studio, I really do need to get some rest. I better get going. Tell Mercedes I’ll see her later.”

As she’s getting up, Rico stops her. “Hey, you can crash in my room for a few hours, if you want to. I’ll be out here for a while, anyway.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I’ll walk you to the train later.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem.”

Jennifer goes into Rico’s room and falls asleep almost immediately. Thirty minutes afterward, Rico gets up and takes a power nap on the couch. Four hours later, Jennifer is standing over Rico, poking his arm to wake him up.
“Yeah?” He says.
“I’m about to leave. You still want to walk with me?”
He sits up on the couch, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

***

Rico returns home from walking with Jennifer. Mercedes is sitting in a chair that she turned sideways from the table, holding a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade that she has drank half of.
“Oh, I see you’re up.” He says.
“Yep, I decided to have a little liquid courage before going back to sleep.”
He looks at her in half amazement and half disgust. “How do you drink that shit?”
“Like this.” She says, taking a drink.
He smirks. “Smart ass.”
“It takes one to know one.”
He chuckles. “What are you doing up, anyway?”
“Your crush woke me up with all that damn snoring. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
He busts out laughing. “Wow. Really? She was snoring? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Yeah, you always were a hard sleeper,” she replies. “That girl was sawing lumber in there. She could’ve built a treehouse.” Mercedes pauses and looks at Rico momentarily. “You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. I was a perfect gentleman.” He says, being sarcastically humorous.
“She probably wouldn’t mind if you did. She has the same schoolgirl crush on you that she has had…,” She shrugs her shoulders. “…when she was a schoolgirl.”
“Well, I have to get back to this computer.”
“That’s all you do. You never have time for friends or a girlfriend; your job is your girlfriend. Why don’t you get away from that for a minute, relax, find you someone and chill?”
“Okay, ‘mom,’” He replies sarcastically. “I’ll call Jennifer back over here and we’ll have a blast.”
“Smart ass.” She rolls her eyes and takes another drink.
He grins, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that, sis?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She stands up, finishing the rest of her drink.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“But you love me, though.”
“Yes, I do, Cede. That’s for sure.”

A smile crosses her face. “At least are trying to come up the right way and make something of yourself,” She acknowledges. “That’s why I started making the moves I make. I know you don’t approve, but I’m tired of struggling, so I’m doing what I have to do.”
“You don’t actually, but I already know where you stand, so, it is what it is.”
“These people out here aren’t going to give you a fair shake, Rico. They don’t play fair. It’s dog-eat-dog, kill or be killed,” she says. “Some of our own family members look down us because we’re not as fortunate. Stuck-up bastards.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Like aunt Carmela and aunt Eva. Carmela stays on the good side of Brooklyn, and Evelyn is in Manhattan,” She says. “We would have family gatherings every year and I started to hate them as I got older.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Rico. Carmela always turned her nose up at us; she would always look at us as if we crapped our underwear,” She responds. “She had no idea how much I wanted to punch in her fucking face. She and a few others would— whenever we did something, me particularly— just shake their heads.”
“Yeah, I remember that, too.”
“It was like we could never do anything right in their sights. Anything you did, those uppity bitches would shake their damn heads. I wanted to snag ‘em with an uppercut. I was like, ‘What the fuck are you shaking your fucking head for?’ Stupid motherfuckers. They looked like human bobble-head dolls they shook their heads so damn much.”

Rico laughs heartily. “I’m not laughing because I think it’s funny; what you’re saying is true, unfortunately. It’s the way you’re saying it. You always tickled me when you get fired up.”
“It was infuriating, Rico. Eva came up and forgot what it was like to be on this side. She started her career, moved to Manhattan, and started looking down on us, too. You remember that comment she made?”
“What comment?”
“One of the last family reunions we went to before mama finally allowed us the option of not going if we didn’t want to, thank goodness, we were all in the dining room and Eva made that sly remark about mom and I being dressed alike and moving us to another family.”
“She was joking.”
“Bullshit, Rico! She knew what she was saying. That’s what she wanted you to think.” She replies. “You know we never were wealthy; then dad was coping with the loss of his job at the time, money was scarce, so we didn’t have the best clothes and what not. We stood out compared to other family members, and not in a good way. It was a slick way of saying we didn’t belong because we were broke and struggling. It was a low-key cheap shot disguised as a joke.”
“Gotcha.”
 “I caught what she was trying to say back then. Mind you, I did nothing to her, and that motherfucker took a shot at me. When she said it, I was thinking, ‘bitch, fuck you,’ but, of course, I would’ve been seen as taking everything to heart, plus, you know me cussing out aunt Eva wouldn’t have went too well with mama and papi.”
“No, it wouldn’t have,” Rico agrees. “One of the rare times you kept your cool, although I’m sure it showed on your face.”
“You’re probably right. What kills me about them is they can say whatever they want to us, don’t care if they offended us or not, but we shoot something back at them, the game changes. ‘That was uncalled for,’ ‘Y’all take stuff the wrong way,’ and everything else.”
“She always was on the disgruntled side.”
“One of the main reasons she’s like that is because she’s sexually frustrated.”
Rico laughs. “Wow. Sexually frustrated?”
“She’s mad at the world because nobody’s checking for her Shrek-looking, awkward-built ass.”
Rico busts out laughing. “Wow. OMG, Cede. OMG.”
“Calling it like I see it.”
“Well, she has one kid, so somebody was drunk enough to hit that.”
“Yeah, for some reason. Selena was a cute little kid, I haven’t seen her since she was four. She was so friendly. Too bad her mom wasn’t that way. She could’ve learned something.”
“I hear you. I was there with you, so I know how you feel.”
Mercedes sighs. “I know. Well, I know you have things to do, so I won’t keep you.”
“Nah, you’re good. I always have time for you, sis.”
“Nah, I’m tired anyway. I’m going to bed. Buenas noches, bro.”
“Buenas noches, sis.”

***

After checking out a movie, Mercedes, Jasmine, and Jennifer go hanging out at the Mi Casita Lounge for some drinks.
“Chica, why you always have to dress like that?” Jennifer questions. “The guys would see your 34-DDs if you were wearing a blanket, but do you always have to show them your ‘Colombian Peaks,’ as you call them?”
Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Why are you worried about it?”
“It can attract the wrong type of attention. That’s the only reason these guys come to you.”
“What’s wrong with that? They can come— and cum again after seeing them, if you know what I mean— that doesn’t mean they’re going to get it.”
“Yeah, well some guys will try to take it.”
“That’s okay, that’s why I carry my twin peaks,” Mercedes responds, slightly raising up her short denim skirt where the hem stops just at her thighs, revealing two Smith & Wesson 9MM pistols. “Well, that, and just in case some other shit jumps off.”
“Girl, what’s wrong with you? You are you crazy?” Jennifer asks, talking below a whisper, gesturing for Mercedes to hurry up and cover up her guns. “Anyway. So, all you have in your closet is a wife beater and short jean skirts?”
“No, I have dresses. I just don’t want to wear them. I’m comfortable in these,” Mercedes responds. “C’mon Jenny, relax. Besides, the way I see it, if you got it, flaunt it. I mean, you and Jazzy aren’t A cups, either. We’re the BTC.”
“Yes, I remember. The Big Titty Committee.” Jennifer responds, smiling and shaking her head.
“Yep. The opposite of the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee.” Jasmine laughs.
“Those bitches used to hate on us bad.” Mercedes says.
“For real.” Jasmine says. “They used to get so butthurt. Don’t blame us because we’ve been gifted. I wasn’t ashamed then, and I’m not today.”
“Speaking of them, have you ever noticed how they wear revealing clothes more than we do?” Mercedes asks rhetorically. “Girl, it tickles me pink. I mean, they don’t have shit to show. They can jump up and down and nothing bounces.”
Jennifer laughs. “Trust me, I’m not ashamed of mine, either. I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, you’re saving yours for my brother.” Mercedes replies.
“You know what? Yes, I like your brother, so what?” Jennifer responds. “If I wanna date him, I’ll date him, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Mercedes sits up. “No?”
“No.” Jennifer responds.
“What if I said I’ll pistol whip you if you go anywhere near him?”
Jennifer rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth. “You ain’t gonna do shit.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“C’mon girls, don’t start with that,” Jasmine says. “We came here to chill and have a good time, remember?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mercedes acknowledges. “You know she burns my ass sometimes.”
“You’re not a walk in the park, yourself.” Jennifer responds.
“Girls, chill!” Jasmine retorts.

As Mercedes and Jennifer start to bicker, three guys approach their table. One is black, the other is white, and the third is a Puerto Rican. The black guy is wearing V-Neck shirt with black wind pants, the white guy a Star Wars t-shirt with blue denim jeans, and the Puerto Rican a plaid shirt with dark blue denim jeans.

“Hey, I’m Tyler.” The black guy says.
“I’m Conner.” The white guy says.
“I’m Alonso.” The Puerto Rican says.
“Hello fellas.” The ladies say in unison.
 “Are you girls waiting for someone?”  Tyler asks.
“No, we’re by ourselves tonight.” Mercedes replies.
“Would you girls like some company?” asks Alonso.
“No, no thanks. Not tonight, fellas.” Jasmine replies with a pleasant smile.
“Right. We’re just here to chill tonight.” Jennifer concurs.
“Sort of like a ladies’ night out, huh?” Tyler asks.
“Something like that.” Mercedes replies.
“Besides, we don’t plan on being here very long, in fact, we will be leaving shortly.” Jasmine says.
“Yeah, we have plans later on.” Mercedes inserts.
“Okay, cool. We can be a part of those plans.” Tyler says.
Mercedes sizes him up momentarily, then chuckles. “Not tonight, fellas.”
“Sorry.” Jasmine says to them as they get up to leave.
Three young ladies notice the interaction from afar and are walking over as Mercedes and her crew are leaving.
“Hold up. Did you just pass up those dudes for whatever reason?” One of them asks Mercedes.
“Ummm, yeah. Why?” Mercedes responds matter-of-factly.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Me and my girls have other plans.”
“What kind of plans y’all have like that?” Another girl asks Mercedes.

This prompts one of the girls to start laughing so hard, tears are coming down her face as she quickly makes her way to the restroom, the third woman trailing her, the woman who questioned them right behind her. They’re laughing so hard that it’s heard by Mercedes and Jennifer, who is enraged.
“What happened?” A confused Jasmine asks.

“Those bitches are in there laughing at us.” Mercedes says. She looks at Jennifer. “You wanna go find out what’s so damn funny?”
“Let’s ride.” Jennifer concurs.

As they’re making their way to the restroom, Jasmine hurriedly jumps in front of them.
“Girls, girls. Don’t worry about it,” She pleads. She looks at Mercedes. “Remember the plan you said you wanted to talk to us about?”
While Jasmine is trying to get cooler heads to prevail, Mercedes and Jennifer both are still trying to get to the restroom. It was Jasmine’s reminder about the plan Mercedes has in mind that makes them stop.
“Yeah, that’s true.” Mercedes reluctantly agrees. “That’s the only reason I’m letting it go. Girls let’s get out of here. Forget those pendejos. Silly ass bitches.”
“Two of them were those itty-bitty motherfuckers we were just talking about.” Jennifer includes.
They’re laughing as they exit the lounge.

***

“Now what’s this plan you’re talking about?” Jasmine enquires.
“I thought of a way we all could all eat.” Mercedes responds.
“How, pray tell?” Jennifer wonders.
“Well, there’s this new name that has been buzzing around the neighborhood lately. The past several months, actually,” Mercedes says. “Been stacking some mad dough, I’ve heard.”
“How did you find out about him?” Jasmine asks.
“I have ears; I hear things,” Mercedes responds. “Not much gets past me on these streets. And it’s not a ‘he,’ it’s a ‘she.’”
“She? Is it who I think you’re talking about?” Jennifer asks.
“Perhaps. She’s known around theses blocks as ‘Mamacita.’” Mercedes says.
“You mean Lucy Luna?” Jennifer asks. “What are you gonna do?”
“Well, let’s just say I plan on making her share the wealth.” Mercedes says.
“Oooo, I don’t know about that, Cede,” Jasmine skeptically responds. “Are you sure you wanna try to hit up Lucy Luna?”
“Have I ever been unsure?” Mercedes asks rhetorically.
Jennifer sighs. “You have pulled some crazy shit in your lifetime, Mercedes Santa Cruz, but this one takes the cake. Are you out of your damn mind?!”
“Hey, Jennifer, Jasmine, look at me,” Mercedes demands. “Look into my eyes. Real talk. As long as you two have known me, when have I ever been scared to do something that I set my mind to? Don’t ever question Mercedes Santa Cruz; don’t ever question my balls. Ever! I don’t even have balls, and I still have balls! That’s how I roll!”
“I’m not questioning your ‘balls,’ I’m questioning your intellect.” Jennifer responds.
“You don’t have to do this, Cede.” Jasmine says.
“Yes, I do. I’m tired of struggling. In order to get ahead in this world, you have to be on the take,” Mercedes says, snapping her fingers on the last term for emphasis. “You’re either predator or prey. Kill or killed.”
“You’ve lost your mind, Toni Montana,” Jennifer responds. “Are we still going to your place?”
“Yeah, why?” Mercedes inquires.
“I’d rather finish this discussion there, if you don’t mind. Too many folks lurking around out here.”
“Sure. Whatever.”

***

It’s 2:00 in the morning; Rico is sleeping when he’s suddenly awakened by loud, high-pitched arguing. “Ahhh, shit,” He mumbles and groans, sitting up in his bed. “Jennifer must be here.”
He gets out of the bed, walks over to the entryway of Mercedes’ room. The door is shut; he slightly cracks open the door and watches the kerfuffle unfold in disgust.

“Mercedes, what you’re about to do is fucking crazy. Don’t do this.” Jennifer warns.
“I’m going to do what I have to, Jen, and I don’t care what you think of it.” Mercedes responds. “To be honest, I don’t remember asking for your approval, anyway.”
“Oh, you have an attitude?” Jennifer questions.
“Yes, you got a problem with it?”
Jennifer takes a deep breath to maintain her patience. “I’m doing this because I care. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine, Jennifer.”
“So you say.”
“You’re not my fucking mom!”
“Look, Mercedes. I’m not Jasmine. I’m your motherfucking friend. I’m not scared of you, bitch.”

Mercedes walks closer. She points and briefly holds her middle finger in the space between her and Jennifer’s face. “You know what? I guess we are friends. That’s the only reason I didn’t put one between your eyes just now.”
“That’s the only reason I didn’t slap your ass through that wall for flipping me off.”
“The fuck you wanna do?” Mercedes asks, spreading her arms out, walking towards Jennifer.
“Cut that shit out!” Rico demands. “It’s too early in the morning for that. People are trying to sleep.”
Their attention turns to Rico.
“Rico, I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Jennifer says. “I think I better leave.”
“No, let’s finish this!” Mercedes says, trailing Jennifer as she’s walking out of the room.
“Mercedes, chill.” Rico says, who stops her when she gets to the entryway.
“Fuck you! Don’t come back here!”
Jennifer stops at the entryway of the front door, turning her attention to Mercedes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Like fuck I don’t. Stay the fuck out of my life.”
Tears run down Jennifer’s face. “If you say so, Mercedes.” She slams the door behind her.
“I think I’d better leave, too.” Jasmine says. “Good night, Rico. See you later, Cede.”
“Good night, Jasmine.” Rico responds.
As the door closes, Mercedes falls into her brother’s arms, bawling her eyes out, as he hugs and comforts her.
 

Literature Lounge Blog Series: Mamacita: Chapter One: Lucy

Characters: Lucy Luna (top), Mercedes Santa Cruz (bottom).

The Literature Lounge welcomes you to its first ever blog series! Today's inaugural feature is Mamacita: A Tale of Two Latinas, which is Book One of the Mamacita series. I came up with the concept in 2016 but due to other projects, I didn't start working on it until 2018.

I intended for this to be my fifth book, but to quickly sum everything up, between those projects and other matters, I have been working on this story sporadically since then. I was getting to the point where I was wondering if I'll finish this story. I like where I'm going with the story, so I've decided to salvage it by turning it into a blog series instead. Within the ensuing days, I will be adding chapters from the series.

Today's post will feature Chapter One, where will I introduce the main character Luciana "Lucy" Luna, and I might post Chapter Two later today-- we'll see. So, sit back and enjoy this Bronx tale of two Latinas.

Author's Note: This story contains content that is graphic. Viewers/Readers discretion is advised.

Copyright © 2019 By Edward Anthony

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic and mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — expect in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without written permission.

“Ambition is a drug that makes its addicts potential madmen.”

-Emil Cioran

Chapter One: Lucy

Lucy is also known in some circles as “Lu-Lu,” but there’s a name and title that will be bestowed upon her, gaining the love, respect, and admiration of most, and of course, drawing the ire and jealousy of more than most. Some will be outright, some will stay hidden until the right moment— or so they think.

Luciana “Lucy” Luna was born in the Bronx borough of New York City. She’s the daughter of Salvador and Maria Luna, immigrants from Puerto Rico who moved to New York in 1977. Salvador worked in the steel mill, and Maria was mostly a housewife who would occasionally babysit for rich folks or help clean up office buildings. They weren’t dirt poor, but they weren’t a wealthy family, either.

Although she loves her parents dearly, this became bothersome to Lucy as she started coming of age. Visiting relatives or seeing other students who had it better than they did, had an impact on Lucy and her older brother, Michael— AKA Mickey, for short— as it typically would with any kid. This triggered early signs of her enterprising skills. By high school, she took notice of the guys who were viewed as undesirable, whether they were nerds, lames, or those deemed as ugly by most girls, and decided to turn it into a profit.

Being an attractive, curvy young lady who also had attractive friends, she would use this to her advantage, guaranteeing the lower seed guys an “opportunity” to date some girls who would otherwise be considered out of their league for a small fee, promising the girls that she would give them a portion of the earnings when the “business” took off, but to trust the process for the time being.

It was a success; the more girls found out about her secret enterprise— of course it had to be kept away from adults— the more interested they were in joining her racket. Within six months, it expanded from school to even some young adult females getting in on the hustle. Making money was never easier for Lucy, and as she promised, she started breaking bread with the girls when the business boomed.

Maria became suspicious when she started to frequently notice money in her purse that wasn’t originally there. She questioned Michael first. “Mickey, did you do this?” She asked holding a roll of green in her hand.

“Do what, mama?”

“Put this money in my purse. I told you not to—

“It wasn’t me, mama. Honest.” He replied, holding up his hands.

“Estas seguro?”

“Estoy seguro.”

“Okay. I know it wasn’t Sal, and if you didn’t do it, that only leaves one person.” Maria said, thinking out loud.

She knocked on the door to Lucy’s room. Lucy, who was counting money at the time, is startled, announced that she’s coming to open the door shortly, and quickly looked for a spot to hide her money, choosing to stuff it under the mattress of her bed. Maria got tired of waiting and opened the door.

“I know you heard me knocking, Lucy.”

“Lo siento, mama,” Lucy replied. “I was busy with homework. I was trying to get the door as fast as I could.”

“Move faster next time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Did you put this money in my purse?”

“Mama, don’t get upset.”

“Lucy, don’t put money in my purse,” Maria demanded. “I keep telling you and Michael the same thing over and over again.”

“We just want to help out, mama.”

“I understand, Lu-Lu, but I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re not lacking.”

“But we can be doing better, mama.”

A sudden thought hit Maria. “You’ve been sneaking money into my purse, there’s extra food in the fridge, I’m seeing you with a different outfit every week. Michael’s working; you’re just going to school. Where are you getting this money from? Are you selling your body, Lucy?”

“Que? Hell no.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Sorry.”

Lucy released a sigh. “I’ve started my own business with some of my classmates,” She said. “No, I’m not selling drugs either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what are you doing? What does this ‘business’ consists of?”

Lucy took deep breath. “Some of the guys at school are paying me to set them up on dates with some of the girls.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mama, please don’t get upset. I just wanna help.”

“We’re doing just fine, Lucy,” Maria assured her. “Yes, things could be better, but it could also be worse. You wanna help out? End your ‘business’ today.”

“Yes mom.” Lucy sulked. She calls to Maria before she leaves. “Are you going to give me the money back?”

“No. Consider this a gross payment.”

Lucy smirks. “Wow. Really?”

“Really.” Maria stops before opening the door. “Ya know, I’m not surprised by this.” Maria looks over the roll of money, then at Lucy. “I’ve always said you were a con-artist from the womb.”

Lucy shakes her head as Maria leaves.

Of course, Lucy continued with her operation, but managed to keep it a secret from her mom, with some assist from Mickey. Her “customers,” that is the guys who couldn’t get dates to save their lives, and the girls who became her “clients,” the ones who sacrificed their reputations as far as being seen with and dating low hanging fruit for a bigger pay-off, continued to grow. She even managed to get a few of the younger teachers in on it.

***

Lucy’s enterprise continues well after high school; only she has now expanded her business from mere pay-for-dating, to building online dating websites to catch bigger fish, so to speak. She started with Calor Latina (Spanish for “Latina Heat”), now her most popular website, but has created subsidiary sites— Latin in Love, which aims more towards her people, and Mi Amour— since then. She has collaborated with Mickey to purchase some vacant property along a strip mall. Together, they open a specialty store selling ice cream and candy, using the store as a front for Lucy’s business.

The store is also used for recruiting potential lady talent for Lucy, if the women meet the criteria. So, if a young lady comes in looking for a job, she’s taken through the job evaluation process. If she’s not only attractive, but smart, they will offer her a “better job.” They have their regular employees— male and female, who are unaware of the real operation— to work and keep the store running, but the selected eye candy is recruited by Lucy.

She still associates with some of her clients from high school; as matter of fact, two of the girls, Jessica and Aurora (AKA Rory) has worked their way to becoming administrators of the sister sites while she oversees Calor Latina. Jessica runs Latin in Love, while Rory runs Mi Amour. Not only do they monitor and maintain the respective websites, but they have also become her top agents for bringing in male clientele.

Although the general idea is for guys to pay to date the woman of his dreams, it has expanded a bit into some escort situations over the years, which involves sexual relations between the man and woman. If such a situation should occur, the guy had to pay extra, being that sex is initially outside of the arrangement.

These interactions gave Lucy access to the street life at an early age. To her credit, she didn’t hang around in the streets, she would stay long enough to take care of business and keep moving, but she gained street cred over the years, nonetheless. As much as success will bring many “friends,” granted, making it difficult to tell who your friends truly are, it will also bring contempt and envy, someone or some people looking to pull you down or knock off the top to take your spot.

Tonight, one of her girls, Andriana returns to the office brutally beaten and robbed by a client. Crying and barely able to walk, she hands Lucy a crumbled white handkerchief that the attacker stuffed in her ripped blouse. Lucy opens the handkerchief, seeing a message written in lipstick that the attacker apparently took from Andriana.

“Tell that bitch Lucy she’s next.” Lucy reads aloud. She balls the handkerchief tightly in her fist, breathing heavily in anger. “Oh really?” She mutters to herself. She checks on Andriana to see if she’s okay. After getting assurance from Andriana that she will be fine, Lucy returns to her desk to look up the picture and profile of the guy that Andriana was assigned to.

***

Maria said that he told her he comes here every Wednesday night. Lucy thinks, sitting at the counter of Stan’s Sports Bar. She’s scoping out the place to see if she can spot Gary, the perpetrator who attacked Andriana, when she hears a pleasant, friendly voice before her, causing to turn her attention to the voice.

“Will we be having our usual, Ms. Lucy?” says the smiling bartender.

Lucy smiles. “Of course, Xavier.”

“One mojito, coming up.”

As Xavier’s fixing her drink, Lucy turns her attention back to the ongoing scene behind her, looking for Maria’s attacker, when a rather large dude takes a seat next to her. He’s of Mexican descent, standing at 6-4; his dark, wavy hair slicked and combed back, wearing a black, fitted security shirt that reads Wolf Security, and black denim jeans.

“Hello mamacita,” he greets. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Lucy smiles. “No thanks. I already ordered one.”

As Xavier returns with the mojito, the guy slides him a $20 bill. “I got the lady covered.” He says, smiling at Lucy.

“Gracias.” She responds, taking a sip of the mojito. She smirks in suspicion. “What are you after?”

“What? I can’t buy an esteemed lady such as yourself a drink?”

“Esteemed lady? So you know me?”

“Of course I know you, mamacita. Your girls work this neighborhood pretty good.”

“You make it sound illegal.”

“No, no. Not at all. How a person makes their money is their business.”

“So, let’s not bullshit. What are you after?”

“You waste no time, do you? Cut right to the chase.”

“Si, senor.”

“Word on the street is that one of your girls was manhandled last night.”

“Word gets around fast, doesn’t it?”

“Si, senorita. My guess is that you’re here tonight to find the one who did it, and your girl gave you a lead on where he frequents.”

“Let me guess. You know where to find this guy, and you want a cut?”

“Not exactly,” he responds. “Of course, I want a piece of the action, but I was thinking more than anything that maybe you can use some man power in your organization.”

She chuckles. “And you’re the man for the job?”

He chuckles. “Well, yes. Myself, and my crew.”

“Crew?”

“Yes. I have my own security crew. I have guys working all over the Bronx, and I would like to offer my services for a percentage.”

“How much?”

“30 percent.”

“Get the fuck outta here. Are you kidding me?”

“25.”

She rolls her eyes. “Try again.”

“20.”

“Tell you what. I’ll meet you halfway of your first proposal, 15 percent. Let me see what you and your guys are made of, and if I like what I see, we’ll talk about a higher percentage.” She reads his shirt. “Plus, I’ll keep our little agreement between us. I’m sure you have a reputation to protect.”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Fair enough.” He finishes his margarita, throws some money on the counter for Xavier, stands up and extends his hand to Lucy, who sits with her arms folded.

“Not yet,” Lucy says. “Before we start, I need you to do something for me. Consider it a show and prove.” 

“Anything for a pretty young lady like you.”

She hands the man a picture of Gary. “Find this bastard and bring him to me, and we’re officially partners.”

“Nothing to it. You got it. So, we have a deal?” He extends his hand again.

“Deal.”

They shake hands in agreement.

“Wait!” Lucy calls for him before he leaves. “You never told me your name.”

“My apologies. The name’s Lobo.”

“Lobo? Is that your real name?”

He laughs. “Yes, it is. But you can call me “Wolf.” All of my friends do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, Lobo.”

***

The following Wednesday night at Stan’s, Lobo looks at the picture of the man in photo that Lucy gave him, then at Gary, who he’s watching from a distance, to make sure it’s him. When he confirms that he has the right man, he considers butting in when he spots him having a conversation with a young woman but changes his mind and waits until the interaction is over. The young woman gives Gary a small piece of paper, smiles, waves at him, and walks over to the bar, passing Lobo in the process.

Distracted, Gary’s reading what is the woman’s phone number, flashes a devious grin, nodding his head, thinking of whatever plan that he has in store for tonight, when he suddenly feels two taps on his shoulder. Startled, Gary turns around quickly. “Hey man!”

“My fault, homes,” Lobo says, throwing his hands up. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nah, son. You’re good. You have some business with me?”

“No, not yet. There is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Really? What cha got?”

He guides Gary over to a table, where they can discuss the deal over some food and drinks. “Look, I saw that chick you were with,” Lobo reveals, leaning over towards Gary. “Now, don’t get me wrong, she was fine, but I have someone better.”

Gary smiles. “Fuck you mean? Like who?”

“Lucy Luna. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Gary’s eyes widen. “Lucy? You mean that Puerto Rican chick that have all those bitches working for her?”

Lobo smiles and slightly nods. “That’s the one.”

“Hell yeah, man. You know where she is?”

“I sure do. I can take you there, if you’d like.”

“Wait. Hold up. This is too good to be true. You’re bullshitting, man.”

“You think so? You wanna put your money where your mouth is?” Lobo pulls out a $100 bill. “A hundred dollars says that I know where Lucy is…if you’re man enough to take the bet and walk with me.”

“Alright. Bet. Let’s go.”

***

Lobo and Gary arrive at a back alley. Lobo knocks on the door; a curvaceous Dominican woman, wearing a tight, red spandex dress, answers.

Damn! Gary thought.

“Why hello? I’m Grace.” She pleasantly greets.

“Hello, Grace,” He replies.  He gestures in Gary’s direction. “This is my friend, Gary.”

“Nice to meet you, Gary.” Grace extends her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Gary takes her hand into his.

“Is something I can do for you guys?”

Lobo walks closer to Grace. “Esta Lucy aqui?”

“Quien es Lucy?” Grace responds. It dawns on her. “Oh, you mean Lucy Garcia? She left about an hour ago.”

“No, Lucy Luna.”

As Lobo is having a discussion with Grace, Gary peeks inside and sees a room full of women.

“Well, that’s the only Lucy I know of. Sorry. But since you guys are here, why don’t you come on in and enjoy yourselves?”

Before they go in, Lobo gives him a $100 bill, which Gary gladly accepts.

“Looks like you’ve won the bet,” he concedes. “We can turn around, if you want to.”

“Man, hell no. All of those fine ass women in there?”

They’re not inside for two minutes before two women, a slim, toned-figured, black-haired Peruvian, the other, a brown-haired, curvy Costa Rican, immediately come to Gary, taking him arm-in-arm, guiding him to a room. The Peruvian introduces herself as Rosalyn; the Costa Rican, Carmen. The ladies sit him down on the couch and starts kissing and touching him. He starts touching Rosalyn’s leg, and attempts to touch Carmen’s breasts, but then they both step away a few feet from him and start to mesmerize him with sultry moves as they slowly unzip their dresses.

“You’re the guest of honor tonight, Gary,” says Rosalyn. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” Rosalyn and Carmen reply in unison.

Their dresses drop to the floor, revealing the ladies each wearing a belly band holster strapped with a gun.

“Oh shit!” As Gary attempts to make a run for the door, Rosalyn pulls out a Glock .19, Carmen, a Glock .22.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Carmen warns.

Keeping the gun trained on him, Carmen walks over to him and takes the $100 bill out of his pocket. “I believe Lobo gave this to you.” She says.

Lobo?! Gary thinks to himself.

“Now, as I was saying, you are the guest of honor,” Rosalyn reiterates. “Walk.” She nods her head towards the door.

The women guide him to a room that looks like a studio apartment sized tavern. There, he sees Lucy and Lobo leaning against a pool table; Lucy smirking mischievously, and Lobo grinning from ear-to-ear. Feeling betrayed, Gary’s eyes widen at the sight of the two. Then Carmen walks over and places the money she took from Gary into Lobo’s pocket.

“Looks like I’ve won the bet, after all,” Lobo gloats. “I told you I would take you to see Lucy, and, here she is.”

“You…you set me up, you son of a bitch!” Gary yells at Lobo, who smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

Slowly walking to him, Lucy pulls out the lip-stick written message and holds it in front of Gary. “I believe you said that I was next?” She says. She beckons for someone to come into the room. Still partially bruised, Andriana walks in and stands next to Lucy. “And on top of that, you beat up one of my girls.”

She walks back to the pool table, grabs a cue stick, and hands Andriana a stocking with cue balls stuffed inside. “You fucked up, chico. That goes against the rules— my rules!” She proclaims. She turns to Adriana. “I believe you have something you want to say to him?”

“I sure do.” Adriana swings the stocking wrap upward, smacking Gary in the nuts, who goes down to his knees.

Lucy cracks the cue stick across his head, sending him to ground. “No one touches my fucking girls! No one!” She exclaims. She turns to Lobo. “Lobo, take this piece of shit outside.” Now turning to the Rosalyn and Carmen. “Girls, you know what to do with him.”

The girls follow Lobo as he drags Gary’s barely conscious body outside to the back alley. Standing over Gary, Carmen fires a shot to his chest, and Rosalyn fires a shot to his head. Back inside, Lobo gives the $100 to Lucy.

“Consider it a donation on behalf of me and my boys.” He states.

***

Lucy throws a party for the girls and welcomes them to invite some of their male friends. She tells them to mention the five-dollar entry fee, and all the proceeds from the collection will be used for charitable purposes. They bring in some highly esteemed guys, from bank presidents, athletes, contractors, and entertainers (mostly B-Movie actors), etc. She’s sitting at the table in between Rosalyn and Carmen, bobbing her head to the music of Cruisin’ by Marc Antoine. She’s casually scanning the scene, when her eyes suddenly catch a relic from her past.

“Motherfucker!” She blurts out, catching only the attention of Rosie and Carmen, only because they are in earshot.

“What’s wrong?” Rosalyn and Carmen respond in unison.

“That punk ass bitch!” She gestures towards a tall, light-skinned man who is dancing with two girls.

“You know him?” Rosalyn enquires.

“That’s Maurice. We went to high school together,” Lucy responds. “Our senior year, we had a class discussion about relationships. Afterwards, I was talking with some the girls about one of the subjects, which was personal preferences.” She continues. “I simply stated that while inner qualities are a factor, I’m not trying to get with no ugly motherfucker, I don’t care what anyone says.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Carmen agrees. “What? He had a problem with that?”

“Apparently so,” Lucy responds. “Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it, because I was just giving my take on my personal preferences. Well, the next day, before class ended, he told Mr. Castillo what I said, but he put it in way to call himself telling on me.”

“That’s messed up.” Rosalyn says.

“I got called out in front of everyone by Mr. Castillo for it,” Lucy says. “I didn’t say anything wrong; I wasn’t bad-mouthing the teacher; I didn’t threaten anyone, but this boy scout, brown-nosing motherfucker wanted to try to score brownie points, and make me look bad. That was fucking petty. There was no need to go to that man about that shit. Pussy ass bitch.”

“So, what happened afterwards?” Rosalyn asks.

“I grinned and beared it,” Lucy says. “But, I also told him after school that I was going to get him for that. I can’t stand a tattle-tell motherfucker. Yeah, that was three years ago, but a promise is a promise.”

Lucy stands up and walks over to the table where Maurice is, who is sitting a table with his friends. She stops a woman, who is carrying a tray with glasses and a champagne bottle being chilled in ice, who is heading over towards Maurice’s table.

“Let me.” Lucy says, taking the tray from her. She walks over to the table, catching the eyes and awe of the guys sitting there as she sits the tray down in the middle of the table. “Hello, Mo. Remember me?”

Maurice turns around slightly, looking over his shoulder. “Nah, I don’t think I do. Why?”

Lucy laughs. “Wow, you don’t remember me, for real? I’m Luciana Luna. We went to Riverdale Kingsbridge together.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’ll refresh your memory. Do you remember Mr. Castillo?”

“Oh yeah. He was a cool dude.”

“That he was. Anyway, one day, you took it upon yourself to throw me under the bus to make yourself look good in front of him.”

Feigning confusion, Maurice chuckles. “Woman, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t, that’s why I’m refreshing your memory.” She sarcastically replies. “As I was saying, your boy scout ass threw me under the bus. I hope you got your merit badge.”

Everyone at the table starts laughing; some are laughing nervously. Lucy’s laughing as well but is dead serious about her statements. She leans closer to his ear.

“Do you remember what I told you after class?”

“No, what?” He asks.

“I told you that I was gonna get you. It may be days, weeks, months, or even years from now, but I was gonna get you.”

Maurice springs up. “Woman get out of my face.” He says, shoving her aside as he walks over to the pool table.

Rosalyn and Carmen, who saw Maurice shove Lucy, are making their way over to him, when Lucy stands in their way. 

“Stop, stop, stop.” Lucy demands. “I appreciate you girls, but this one is on me.” She walks over to the table where Maurice was, grabs the champagne bottle and a glass, and walks over to the pool table, where Maurice is concentrating on the game with the fellas, and taps him on the shoulder. “You know what, Mo? I apologize. I shouldn’t be tripping over something that happened a few years ago. To show there’s no hard feelings, let me pour you a drink.”

She hands him the glass. As she’s pouring him a drink, his focus goes back to the pool table. She fills up the glass, then quickly turns the bottle upside down, smashing it upside his head. Maurice crashes to the floor.

“What?! I told you I was gonna get your ass!” She shouts, standing over him. “You thought I was bullshittin’?! Then you come on my shit, and disrespect me? You just gave me another reason to fuck your ass up!” She looks to Esteban and Paciano, two of Lobo’s guys. “Get him the fuck outta here!”

“Sure thing, mamacita.” Esteban says.

Esteban and Paciano escorts Maurice out of the backdoor as bystanders look on in shock. Lucy assures that everything is good, to continue with the party, which is what they do, starting with the DJ blaring the music again. Lobo, Rosalyn, and Carmen immediately rush over to Lucy, who’s watching Esteban and Paciano leave the building with Maurice. Rosalyn and Carmen high-fives Lucy.

“Mamacita doesn’t play, does she?” Lobo asks. He examines the champagne splashed on the neck, running down between her cleavage, and some of it on her dress.

“I’m not gonna lie, you look kind of sexy with that champagne all over you. You’re gonna make me act bad, mamacita.”

“Fuck you.” She says playfully.

“I’m scared of you, mamcita.” Rosalyn says jokingly, throwing her hands up in the air. “I know to think twice before crossing you.”

“He had it coming,” Lucy responds. “I always make good on my promises.”

Carmen chuckles. “Mamacita.’ I like that. I don’t know, it kind of fits you. Like a matriarch or something.”

Lucy smirks. “The Godmother, huh?”

“Exactly.” Carmen responds.

“Congratulations, Lucy, you’ve just been crowned.” Lobo says.

They all laugh. Lucy and the crew walked back to their table and enjoyed themselves for the remainder of the night. It was this night that Lucy officially became the “Mamacita,” the empress of the underworld. She gained the utmost respect of her peers and the community.

Second Interview with Author Lauren Chow

Today's guest made an appearance here back in 2017 (when it was EA: Creatively Creative) to talk about her debut novel, Chosen. Till this day, that interview has received the most views (so far) out of all of my blog pages. Today, she returns, but for the first time in the Literature Lounge. I welcome back, author Lauren Chow.

LL: Welcome to the Literature Lounge, Lauren.

LC: Hello! Thanks for inviting me.

LL: The last time we spoke, you were releasing your first ever novel, Chosen. How's the book coming along since its release?

LC: It’s been phenomenal. I’m genuinely surprised at how well it’s still going. I thought that after a few of months people wouldn’t really care about it. It’s now been almost two years and I’m still receiving messages about how people enjoyed the book and asking for the release for the sequel. It’s a strange but amazing feeling knowing that your piece of work impacted someone else in the world.

LL: What have you learned from your experience so far in your young career?

LC: I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned from writing is that you can’t please everyone. You should always be proud of the work you poured your heart and mind into. However, there will always be haters and people looking for flaws in your work.

In one of my works called “Rosaline” on Wattpad, there were some users that commented or messaged me, accusing me of supporting abusive relationships and that I was anti-feminist. The comment that stood out to me the most said that I should “check my morals” if I am writing stories like this and gave me a set of instructions on how I should change my story. I remember being shocked and rattled by these messages, thinking “where in the world is this coming from?”. I never thought I would experience this and now it slapped me right in the face.

Immediately after that, I posted a warning and defended my beliefs. When it still didn’t stop, I didn’t write for a solid month and deleted the app. During that time away, I began to realize there will always be people who want to knock you down. I don’t need to satisfy these strangers and let them demand how I write my book. I know my beliefs and what I write doesn’t have to reflect who I am as a person.

When I finally downloaded Wattpad again, I was overwhelmed by the support and love I got from fans when I posted another chapter. “Rosaline” is one of my most popular works and I don’t regret how I wrote it. It’s my book and I’m proud of it.

LL: Knowing what you know now as a writer, is there anything that you would do differently?

LC: I personally wouldn’t change anything. Each book taught me a lesson and helped me find my writing style. If I changed anything, who’s to say I wouldn’t have created Chosen in the first place? I may not be the writer I am today if I didn’t make mistakes or changed my way of thinking.

LL: I understand that you're working on a sequel to Chosen. Would you tell us the name of it?

Yes! I’m happy to declare that the sequel to Chosen is called Risen! I have been working on this book for years! Initially, I finished this book around 2017, but I’ve constantly been editing and changing the plot. It’s safe to say that I am finally satisfied with it.

LL: What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

LC: Be patient and take your time writing your stories. Remember that you’re not going to write an entire novel in a day. It’s okay to get writer’s block, so don’t just write if you feel pressured to keep going. Pressuring and rushing yourself to finish your book can cause your plot to get wonky (I speak from experience). Writing is a way for you to express yourself and your imagination. If you rush to the end, you’re missing the adventure. As cheesy as it sounds, just have fun!


LL: Finally, can you give us an idea of what readers can look forward to in the sequel?

LC: I don’t want to spoil it too much. But in the sequel, we are flash forwarding eight months after the end of Chosen. The readers are about to enter a world filled with fear and hopelessness. While the readers are going to find out what happened to Clara and her family, it doesn’t mean they are safe and sound. Be prepared to go on a rollercoaster of emotions as you’ll finally get the conclusion to Chosen.

Epilogue

"You can't please everyone" is one of the golden rules of this business/industry, and you must embed it in your mind quickly. I have a story of my own to illustrate that example, but I've talked about it enough, so I'll pass on this one. 

Going back to Lauren's WattPad experience, this is why I have the "screw them"-- and I'm being very politically correct-- mindset that I have. Obviously, there are some things one should consider when writing. For example, I wouldn't write romance material for a children's book. Some things should be common logic.

To change your work or style due to someone's opinion/criticism will cause you to overthink: "Is it too political?" "Is it too this or too that?" Not only that, if you're not careful, they will take over your story-- or at least attempt to, as shown by the individual who had the unmitigated gall to give instructions on how to change her story. Man, screw that! Again, that's not the word I want to use, but I try to keep it PC here. I'm not referring to those who give honest and fair criticism, but I think you should vet those as well.

Express yourself completely as you see fit for your story. Yes, you want to write something compelling for the audience, but it has to be compelling to you first and foremost, regardless of what they think. By the way, I'm anti-feminist myself. At the end of the day, you can't please everyone, and neither should you try.

Anyway, that's enough of my rant, I'd rather save that for my social commentary blog. Being patient during the writing/creation process is key. It can be very tempting to work on a story for a while, and get the urge to rush to get it out of the way. To be fair, most readers can detect when one rushes a story. I've witnessed it from their comments on other authors.

"Writing is a way for you to express yourself and your imagination. If you rush to the end, you’re missing the adventure." I couldn't have said it any better myself, and most definitely have fun doing it. Enjoy the process. I want to thank Lauren again for stopping by the Literature Lounge. For more on Lauren, and her written works, visit her website at https://www.lchowbooks.com.