Relapse: A Novel

Dear Loyal Readers,

I’d been trying to pen this letter to you for a while, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard, because I love sharing my writing experiences with you. Then it hit me: this letter was my final chance to add my two cents to this novel, and writing it meant I would finally have to let go of something that is so dear to my heart—like a mother who cries on the first day of school when the bus pulls off with her child. I have special connections to all my babies, and this newborn is no different.

Like with
Black Widow
, the concept of this story had been in my heart, mind, and spirit for a very long time. I felt that both male and female readers could relate to it, and the overwhelming response I received from family, friends, and readers when I explained the plot was encouraging and such a blessing.

Ashanti sings in “Baby, Baby, Baby” that “like a drug you relieve my pain.” Everybody, at one time or another, has been a fool
for love. Has experienced the highs and lows of a relationship, the fiending to be with that person, the withdrawal after a breakup, and finally the Relapse.

I knew someone whose life seemed so together; she was a powerful person with lots of money, success, and fame. But one harsh word from the love of her life would just shut her down. I’ve been there too, and so have many of my friends and family, so this idea of having a relationship become an addiction is something I just had to dig into.

Initially, I wanted to write about a new male character, but I love listening to my fans and you all sent lots of messages asking about Lootchee and wanting more of the inside scoop on him. So I decided to incorporate him into
Relapse
and show a different side of him than what you saw in my previous novels.

This book was on a really tight schedule, and once I received my edits, I had the privilege of revisiting my characters with a fresh eye and doing a lot of rewriting and moving things around. The extra work really enhanced the story, but racing against the clock was no joke. After days operating on little to no sleep, the book was finally completed. I had only four hours to shower, pack and get to the airport to go to one of the most mysterious places in the world, Marrakech, Morocco to witness the matrimony of two very special people: my agent, Marc, and his fiancée, Christina. I had the time of my life, learned so much, rode a camel (can you imagine me on a camel?), and yes, brainstormed a new project while I was there.

Yes, this book has definitely given me great rewards. It’s helped me face some of my craziest addictions, and I hope it does the same for you—if not more.

So, without further ado, I introduce you to the newest baby,
Relapse!!!
Fingers crossed that you love her as much as I do!

Much Love,
Nikki Turner

My drug of choice isn’t cocaine, heroin, prescription pills, alcohol … or any other mood-altering drug. The intoxication that I’m hooked on has a stronger hold on me than any of those drugs ever could. Sometimes it brings out the very best in me, and at other times the absolute worst.

Some of my friends have called my problem an addiction to please, but that’s not it. I’m simply, absolutely addicted to a man. It’s not the sex or his money that has me hooked. It’s so much deeper than that …

“Bye, Dad.” Beijing planted a kiss on her father’s cheek before jumping down from his tow truck for her monthly visit with her mother, Willabee.

“If you need anything, be sure to give me a call on my cellular phone.” Sterling hated letting his little girl go. Willabee and her oldest daughter Paris not only lived on the wrong side of the tracks, they were riding the train in the wrong direction as far as he could see. If he had his way, Beijing would never have contact with any of her kinfolks on her mother’s side of the family. But Sterling didn’t have his way. Those were Beijing’s peoples, and he didn’t want to make his only daughter resent him by forbidding her to visit her biological mother and older sister.

“Yes, Daddy. I will.”

“If for some reason you can’t get me on my hip, call the office to have the dispatcher radio me.”

“Daddy, I know the routine.” Beijing smiled. “Stop worrying, Daddy. I’m not a lil girl anymore.”

“You may be ten years old now.” He squeezed her nose. “But fifty years from now you will still be my little girl.”

“Daddy, you gotta let me grow up.”

“In due time, but I don’t want it to happen too fast. Now, one more kiss, on the other cheek this time.” He bent down and Beijing kissed his left cheek before he walked her to the front door of her mother’s place.

Willabee swung the door open before they reached the porch. “Hello, my little princess cream puff.” She reached out to hug Beijing.

“Hey, Momma,” Beijing asked while in her mother’s arms. “Is Paris here?”

“Yup, she’s in her room, baby.”

Beijing idolized her older sister. Paris was ten years older than her and everything Beijing aspired to be when she grew up.

Whenever Willabee had one of her mental episodes, it was Paris who looked after her, and Beijing knew that her sister would never steer her wrong. Although lately Paris didn’t keep her hair freshly done the way she used to, or her clothes as crisp, and her once shapely body no longer filled her clothes the same way, but none of that mattered to Beijing, who still adored her big sister Paris.

“And how you, Sterling? Is that a new truck you got?” Willabee peeped around Beijing’s father to look at the new flatbed truck.

Sterling considered his baby’s mother, Willabee, a lame excuse for a parent. Every time Sterling thought about the fact that he’d been with this woman his stomach turned. What in the world had he been thinking? Or which head had he been thinking with? No man in his right mind would have taken on Willabee and all her baggage and bullshit. She had a child, a mental condition, a mountain of debt, and no job, but a body and beauty to die for. He
blamed it on the marijuana and that’s why to this very day he said no to drugs.

“I can’t complain,” Sterling answered as he placed Beijing’s overnight bag inside the house. “I will pick her up at three o’clock tomorrow.”

“Okay bye, Daddy,” Beijing said as she rushed past her mother and straight to Paris’s room.

“Oh, Sterling, you don’t have to come so early.” Willabee asked for a little extra time with her daughter but Sterling wasn’t having it.

“Have her ready at three tomorrow,” he said firmly.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She waved her hand. “I will.”

Sterling sat in his truck gazing at the house, praying the entire time, as he always did, that God would be his eyes for him and watch over his baby girl. Each and every time, God had answered his prayer. Hopefully, this time wouldn’t be any different.

Three hours later Beijing was sitting on a dingy sofa that was riddled with holes, the white cushioning inside trying to escape. Paris had taken her to a house that smelled like a dirty locker room, and the rank odor was seeping into Beijing’s throat. She peered over her shoulder every now and then to look at her sister, who stood in a cramped kitchen with peeling wallpaper. It wasn’t really her sister that Beijing was watching, but the man with whom she was having a conversation. Beijing was trying to figure out what they were talking about and could tell by their expressions and gestures that it was intense. Beijing wanted to turn the volume down on the outdated floor-model television so that she could make out what they were saying, but she didn’t want to appear to be too obvious. Suddenly both her sister and the man she was talking to looked at Beijing and locked eyes with her. Beijing quickly turned back around so Paris wouldn’t yell at her later for being nosey and sticking her nose into grown folks’ business.

Paris turned her attention away from her little sister and continued
her rap with the man she had come to see: Chimp, an old cocaine dealer with bad teeth, bad hair, bad breath, and even worse fetishes.

“I don’t know about coming off a whole half of zone,” Chimp said. “That’s seven hundred bills.”

“Don’t try to play me like that, Chimp, we both know that yo’ shit got bake on it,” Paris replied rolling her eyes.

Chimp cracked a crooked smile because Paris was telling the gospel. He whipped all his coke into crack with baking soda, and he was damn good at his craft. Because of the highly addictive nature of the drug and his skill at cooking it up, his customers always came back. If those same patrons knew that they were actually buying more Arm & Hammer than cocaine, they probably would not have been so loyal.

“Look, you wasting my time. I got what you want, you in or out?” Paris taunted as she put her hands on her hips.

Chimp stared Paris up and down, mildly upset because she knew his MO. Once upon a time, Paris had been a breathtaking beauty, and even though she had fallen off a bit, she was still easy on the eyes with her dark skin, full eyes, high cheekbones, and petite frame. But today, Paris wasn’t his preference; he knew she had been tricking with all the boulevard fellas, and he wanted something a little more fresh.