Fiction
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Seven Producing the Love for The Longevity Imani made a heady exit with her new fiancé. Tilting her head, she cupped her hand under her punkish bang like a visor as she strode down the block, clasping Kareem's top while the fans ambushed them about their engagement. Kareem wasn't so amicable when he was inebriated. Imani's pixie furrowed back with her left hand was the perfect trinket shot of his four-carat birthstone; the image signaled Hollywood would take him off the shelf. She delivered the goods for social snaps and blogs and grinned along the way to their Bentley. Ronnie, the driver, awaited the passenger door opened and was enveloped with spewing fans as he ushered Kareem in, then Imani, who ditched the street and cattily waved as she slid in the back.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” Part Two. Content Warning.
Chapter Eight Reaping views too deep to write off Lining up the Breakdown, 5:07 am. I'm up before Imani's yoga session and strolling through the house with my hustler's ambitious scowl. This morning I'm in $1,100 pants, one of my four vintage Jordan III sneakers, and a grey "Sak Life" sweater in the kitchen Lucky is near the Family Hub sorting out cooking arrangements for breakfast. "Morning."
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Thirteen When it’s time to pull up on Ms. Fines Knock! Knock! "Anyone who knocks likes that better be clean." Melissa Cardona says, behind her desk, poring over a warrant sent for one of her parolees. It was a first-degree murder that strained the equine bridge beneath her black specs. She liked the twenty-two-year-old Black man and twiddled a pen between her fingers as she scanned the incident report in disappointment. Was she wondering how he could do something so stupid? So cruel?
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Nine It was them who needed Kareem Gwinnett Civic Center, 9:15 am. My reason for running late. I brought the Cadillac out because it was a motorcar. The Sky Captain edition, with the blocky sunroof and presidential tints, felt like you surrounded yourself by military strength. The car sat eight of all the little starlets from this five-person girl posse: Parker Jay was my closest joy.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Ten Bringing a Charity basket to the Opps Nick Cromartie sat three chairs down from his New Line distributor Ziggy Williams, Moesha Seal, and PEN's Will Childs. As executive producer, he was here to bring other producers and their money to this same table. They didn't care about the studio's continuity unless it affected their put-down money.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Eleven Rubies are Red, and Roses are Black Her salon had the third largest area in their home, filled with a glass tile steam room and a sauna lined with hemlock wood; the walls and ceilings were covered in silver leaf and illuminated by fiber optic lighting, which felt like this salon was Studio 6. Each of her chairs was custom crafted for style and comfort, and she retreated here whenever she felt, unlike the woman who mirrored Kareem Cashmere. "If his contract sanctions me, I don't give a fuck?" she murmurs.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Three Cromartie Productions Studios After my legal session, I walked into the studio with another project in my pocket. A private sex tape for my P.O. began materializing when I entered the parking lot filled with obscure black vehicles with microphones and cameras attached. Settings that made it seem elsewhere like a high rise in SoHo.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
Chapter Two Best New Writer of the Year The luminous statue sprawled on the floor in our main suite. Its gold figure shimmering from the sun waving in from the floor-to-ceiling window near the bed. Along the carpeted floor, I woke up to see Imani's dress like a crime scene without the body, my pants and shirt, and a gift bag from the gala that I ripped apart last night for the Belgium chocolate donuts inside alone. The bedroom seemed like a drunk binge of sex and skinny dipping into our tall canopy king-size together hours ago.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
Antarctic Death Shot!
CW: Cannibalism, parasites as garnish In the unforgiving tundra of Antarctica there is little excitement one can find- especially when your job is to look at ice and frozen soil all day. However this research lab was currently buzzing with more energy than anyone had seen since the lab first opened up.
By Delise Fantome2 years ago in Chapters
103 Not Out
In a quiet, picturesque town nestled between rolling hills, there lived a mysterious figure known as "The Sage of 103." Legend had it that this enigmatic individual had lived for an astonishing 103 years, yet he remained youthful, agile, and full of wisdom.
By James Indication2 years ago in Chapters
“Script Money” The Novel. Content Warning.
PROLOGUE "Throned! TV playback...in three...two…ACTION!!" She wore boots with a bikini. The two-piece she slew in. A black Givenchy cut-out set with gold loops showing off thicker curves than some emaciated model lying in the sand. But she wore this to start a war. Her boots, some hi-tech leather pair. Black and polished with floppy strings and rose her toned calves. The shoes weren't meant for running, fleeing from battle if need be. However, she rocked the reckless fashion kill, knowing she would get whacked. Soon as she popped the ops first.
By Terence King2 years ago in Chapters
