The California Saga

Chunichi

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Table of Contents

Thank you to my almighty God for continuing to bless me with the opportunity to write. Some careers are short lived and to others reaching such places is nothing more than a dream. But God has taken me places that I had never imaged and is still opening doors. To Him I give all the glory.

Thanks to my continuously growing fan base. I appreciate all the e-mails on Myspace and Facebook and all the wonderful comments. You all give that extra push to get these books out.

Much love to my literary fam. Thanks to Carl Weber of Urban Books and Mark Anthony of Q-Boro for tolerating my divalicous attitude and only being a phone call away. To my personal Urban Books chaperone, Denard aka G Buggy, you're irreplaceable. Thanks to my super agent, Marc Gerald, for seeing the vision and setting the path. To my literary big sister, Nikki Turner, love you boo!

Thanks to all my girls for keeping me full of ideas. Toya, Tracey, Kicia, and Chele—your loyalty will never be forgotten. Anthoinette and Sophie, you both hold a special place in my heart. NeNe of Major Creations Hair Studio, you know I can do nothing with this head without you.

I send never ending hugs and kisses to my family. Mom, thanks for always shining so bright. No matter how dull my day is I can always count on you to brighten it. Dad and little bro, thanks for your support. Thanks to my wonderful husband, Aron, for being tough enough to keep me on track when I veer, yet loving enough to pamper me when I'm weak. To my Jamaican fam back home, don't worry yuhself, mi soon come a yard!

I could go on forever with this section. I've learned so much in this past year about bad-minded, envious people, and haters. But rather than talk about it here, I'll just write a book on it. So to all my haters, thanks for the continuous inspiration and making me rich! Smooches!

California Jewel—Who in hell would name their child some shit like that? That's the first question that comes to mind when someone hears my name. Jewel, the name I actually went by, was given to me by my grandmother. She said I was more precious to her than a priceless stone. Now, California, that shit came from my whore-ass momma. She named me California because I was the product of a one-night stand she had in California.

Although I hated the name, as reckless as it seemed, I was damned if any other name was more appropriate. California described me perfectly. Just like the state of California, I was full of sunshine. My pussy was wetter than a ripe California orange. I was definitely Hollywood when it came to my divalicious attitude, wanting what I want when I want it. But if you ever tried to cross me, I'd become more dangerous than the LAPD. To say the least, I was off the Richter, like a California earthquake which would know exactly what I meant.

As if my flawless five-foot four-inch frame wasn't enough, I just had partnered up with a beast by the name of Michael Burroughs. He was Mike to his family and baby mothers, but to cats getting money on the streets, he was known as Calico, short for “California Connection.” And every nigga in the drug game dreamed of having a person like him on his side.

I, on the other hand, had made a different kind of connection with him, but little did I know just how far that connection would take me.