Chocolate Dove by Cas Sigers Read Free Book Online Page B

90 percent of her jobs as a Somali model with thick, curly hair. But when she straightened her hair, she looked more American. To procure more work, she needed to diversify her image. Hence, she set a salon appointment that Thursday.
    â€œToday is going to be very productive. I can feel it,” she said with a smile.
    Basra got dressed, and headed to check out the neighborhoods of the few places she’d found online.
    Throughout the day, she thought of her incident the night before with Campbell, but she refused to let it get her down. Her ability to overcome distress and traumatic situations developed when she was a young girl. In Somalia she was exposed to so much, so early in life, that there was nothing that Basra knew she couldn’t endure. Her community back home had been pillaged several times. At twelve, she witnessed her aunt being beaten to death for having an affair. She had young cousins recruited as warlords and knew of many killings and murders. Basra knew how great her opportunities were in New York, and again it was her responsibility to aid her family. She wasn’t going to let Campbell or Lucia cause a diversion in her mission.
    That evening around seven, Lucia strolled in, and plopped down next to Basra on the couch. She wrapped her arms around her roomie and placed her head on Basra’s shoulder.
    â€œI missed you,” she said.
    â€œAre you schizophrenic?” asked Basra.
    â€œBipolar maybe, but not schizoid,” Lucia answered.
    Basra wasn’t sure if she was joking and so she didn’t give her reply any attention.
    â€œI had the best weekend,” Lucia said. “I was in Miami at this party, where the cocaine flowed like snow.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t do that.”
    â€œI don’t. Not all the time. Just an occasional party now and then.”
    Basra slid her shoulder from underneath Lucia’s head and continued to watch television as she scooted a few inches away.
    â€œWhat did you do this weekend?” Lucia asked.
    Basra, with the task in mind to slowly detach from Lucia, decided to keep mum about her eventful weekend. The less Lucia knew the better. Basra replied, “Nothing,” and continued staring at the boob tube.
    â€œWell, listen to this. Next week there is a party in Isla de sa Ferradura, Island of the Horseshoe,” Lucia said with excitement in her voice. Basra cut her eyes toward Lucia but refused to give her full attention. “You can make some real good money.”
    â€œI’m not going.”
    â€œYou’re going to hate you didn’t go. Have you ever been to a private island? It’s near Ibiza. I know you’ve never been there.”
    â€œI don’t care. I have two interviews this week,” Basra lied.
    â€œDoing what? Waitressing? You’d rather bring home fifty dollars in tips when you could make five thousand?”
    Campbell’s words were still haunting her. “I’d rather not be thought of as a whore,” Basra said as she rose and walked into the kitchen. Naturally, Lucia followed.
    â€œI’m trying to help you. You said you wanted to save money. You said you wanted to help your family. It’s not about what others think of you, but what you think about yourself. I don’t care if people call me a whore, because I will be a whore who’s retiring as a millionaire before the age of thirty. I can invest, become a multimillionaire by thirty-five, and no one will care how I earned my first million.”
    Lucia’s words now had Basra’s full attention. “I hear what you’re saying, I just wasn’t raised that way.”
    â€œYou think I was? You think my mother sat me down when I was little and told me I had gold between my legs and that I should exploit my body for a better life? My mother, God rest her soul, wanted me to be a pastry chef like her and the other women in my family. But my mother died with two hundred euros to her name,