Read Heartbreak of a Hustler's Wife: A Novel Online
Authors: Nikki Turner
PRAISE FOR NIKKI TURNER
#1 Essence Bestselling author
“Always surprising, Nikki Turner’s prose moves like a Porsche, switching gears from tender to vicious in an instant.”
—50 C
ENT
“Nikki Turner has once again taken street literature to the next level, further proving that she is indeed ‘The Queen of Hip Hop Fiction.’ ”
—Z
ANE
, author of
Dear G-Spot
“Another vivid slice of street life from Nikki Turner. You can’t go wrong with this page-turner!”
—T. I. on
Ghetto Superstar
“Few writers working in the field today bring the drama quite as dramatically as Nikki Turner … [She’s] a master at weaving juicy, ’hood-rich sagas of revenge, regret, and redemption.”
—Vibe on
Forever a Hustler’s Wife
“USDA hood certified.”
—T
ERI
W
OODS
, author of the True to the Game
trilogy on
Riding Dirty on I-95
ALSO
BY NIKKI TURNER
NOVELS
Natural Born Hustler
Relapse
Ghetto Superstar
Black Widow
Forever a Hustler’s Wife
Death Before Dishonor
(
with 50 Cent
)
Riding Dirty on I-95
The Glamorous Life
A Project Chick
A Hustler’s Wife
EDITOR
Street Chronicles: Backstage
Street Chronicles: Christmas in the Hood
Street Chronicles: Girls in the Game
Street Chronicles: Tales from da Hood
(contributing author)
CONTRIBUTING AUTHOR
Girls from da Hood
Girls from da Hood 2
The Game: Short Stories About the Life
Heartbreak of a Hustler’s Wife
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A One World Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2011 by Nikki Turner
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by One World Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
O
NE
W
ORLD
is a registered trademark and the One World colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Turner, Nikki.
Heartbreak of a hustler’s wife : a novel / Nikki Turner.
p. cm.
“A One World Trade Paperback original”—T. p. verso.
eISBN: 978-0-345-52640-3
1. Wives—Fiction. 2. Criminals—Family relationships—Fiction.
3. Street life—Fiction. 4. African Americans—Fiction.
5. Richmond (Va.)—Fiction. 6. Domestic fiction.
7. Urban fiction. I. Title.
PS3620.U7659H43 2011
813′.6—dc22 2011001780
Cover design: Dreu Pennington-McNeil
Cover photograph: © Marion Designs
v3.1
To everyone who asked for this book:
without you this novel would never have
been written! Enjoy!
Dear Loyal Readers:
As always, I’d like to say thank you for your undying support of my many books and authors, which you have embraced with open minds, hearts, and arms. I feel blessed and honored to have such loyal and faithful readers. That’s why when I got email after email after email from you asking for the third segment of the Hustler’s Wife series, I didn’t hesitate. Now, I’m not going to pretend that writing this book was easy because, like most works of art, it’s never a smooth ride. I talked a little about this in the letter I wrote to you in my novel,
Natural Born Hustler
, but there were other bumps in the road too.
In April of last year, while writing this book, I was injured in a car accident, resulting in headaches and back and neck pain, which severely limited the amount of time I could spend writing on the computer. My physical therapist advised me to push the book back—but how could I? Every single spring you’ve counted on me for a Nikki Turner Original, and letting you down was not an option. So, I soldiered forward slowly and
steadily in pain every day. I couldn’t take pain pills because they put me to sleep, and with my editor on my back and a follow-up book to write, who had time for sleep? Besides, my grandmother used to tell me that there would be plenty of time to sleep once I’m dead and gone … and my heartbeat and aching muscles told me that I was neither dead nor gone. Thank GOD!
But the most dreadful part was when the doctor delivered the heart-wrenching news that due to my sciatic nerve causing the charley horse–like pains in my legs, I should limit myself to wearing only flat shoes. To a female fashionista with a fetish for high-end high heels that news was equivalent to a death sentence, but I’m keeping the hope alive …
But those weren’t the only impediments I faced: I had a story line that needed to be orchestrated. The characters all wanted their voices to be heard, and it was up to me to weave a great story for them. I wanted an amazing first chapter, which took me three months to write, only for my editor to move it to another part of the book. But I took every little detail about this story seriously because I felt like it was an important turning point, not only in my career as a writer, but for Yarni and Des as characters. They’ve been through so much more than most relationships could ever hope to survive, and the question for me was: can their love weather this latest storm or is this it for them?
If you enjoy reading this book as much I enjoyed telling the story, then it will be worth the excruciating pain that I experienced behind the scenes. Thank you again from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my soul for your love and support.
Much love,
Nikki
“Des, you can’t play with God anymore. You just can’t.” Yarni was adamant.
“This has nothing to do with God. I need to find out who tried to kill me.”
“Why isn’t it enough that whoever tried wasn’t successful? That you are still alive? That you are still able to take your daughter and wife in your arms? It was God who saved your life. It’s because of His Grace and mercy that you are not lying in the morgue and that I’m not making funeral arrangements for you.”
“That may all be well and true, but what am I supposed to do now? Let it go? I’m not cut from that kind of cloth, Yarni, and you know that. That’s not who I am, and you know that’s not the person that you married.”
“I know that, Des, but are you going to be fifty years old and
still popping caps in a nigga’s butt?” Seeing that Des wasn’t changing his mind, she tried a different line. “But what about evolving?”
“I’ve evolved. I’m not selling dope.”
“No more, you mean. But you’re collecting money from it. I just want you to do one or the other.”
“What do you mean one or the other?”
Yarni looked him in the eyes “The streets or the pulpit. And preferably anything but the streets. I don’t want you to be a hypocrite.” She knew her words would hurt him, but hell, right at that moment, the truth was something Des needed to hear.
“Look, I hear you, baby. I really do. But right now, until I figure out who tried to kill me, I guess I’m choosing the streets.”