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  JUANTY’S HOPE

  The Corset Clan

  By: T.C. Underwood

  Copyright 2019 T.C. Underwood

  Edited by Crystal C.

  Cover Designed by Sunny Giovanni

  Published by T.C. Underwood

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under

  Copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be

  reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,

  or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic,

  mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without

  prior written consent from author T.C. Underwood,

  except brief quotes used in reviews, interviews or magazines. This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or

  represent any particular real person. All the characters,

  incidents and dialogue in this written work are the product

  of the author’s imagination and are not to be considered as

  real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities,

  real people living or dead, or to real locations are intended

  for the sole purpose of giving this novel a sense of reality.

  Any similarities with other names, characters, entities,

  places, people or incidents are entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my great-great-great-great-grandmother, who I never had the pleasure of knowing. Her strength and ability to survive through insurmountable hardships was nothing short of amazing. Her life and legacy live on through her children,

  The Underwoods.

  There is no better than adversity. Every defeat,

  Every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own

  seed, its own lesson on how to improve your

  performance the next time.

  ~Malcolm X

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you, God. Without You, there is no me.

  Thank you, Kevin. You allow me to be me. You give me the time and support I need to achieve my goals. You give me your unlimited love and support. What more can a wife ask for? I love you forever and unconditionally.

  Mirian and Zoe, my daughters, my firecrackers, you love me even when I am too busy to give you the time you deserve because I am typing away at this computer. Thank you for your understanding and patience. I love you. Now that it is done… LET’S SHOP!

  Tevin, I cannot express enough what your phone calls and support mean to me. Your talent is second to none. Thank you for sharing it with me. I love you.

  Nykolas, the title is perfect. YOU DID THAT! Thank you for the countless hours you spent in my office, supporting me with whatever I needed: a title, a meal, a laugh, a critique partner, or just your company. One word, Nyk…Invaluable. I love you.

  Mommy and Yogi Beara, you complete me. Every success, every accomplishment, every milestone in my life, you two were there. What would I do without you? You are my sunshine.

  Alicia, no matter what time I call, how busy you are, you will stop and take time to help me get it right. I cannot imagine the writer’s block I would have probably experienced without your creativity and imagination. You are more than my bestie; you are my lifeline, my sister. Thank you.

  Ebonee, Mrs. Masih, my launch team, Tevin, Nykolas, Latoya, and Yogi Beara, you are the pieces that put this puzzle called Juanty’s Hope together. Thank you for the love, time, and energy you put into making someone else’s dream come true.

  To all who took the time to read my book, thank you so very much. Enjoy!!!!!

  Prologue

  Eutaw, Alabama 1836

  Waves of desire engulfed Juanty’s body as she lay next to her husband, staring into his deep brown eyes, stressing her need for intimacy. She loved this man, Coffey DuBose. He was her good amongst evil. The life of a slave in 1836 was not an easy one. Torture was a normal occurrence in her miserable world, but moments like these, making love to her man, was the calm before the cyclone that was brewing in her life.

  Beside their bed was a tiny bundle of joy, Hope. While peace swaddled the newborn, barely eleven weeks old, Juanty thought about the circumstances surrounding her birth. Although she could never speak the words aloud, Massa Woods would skin her alive, she was proud that her baby’s father was white, giving her name meaning. Her fair skin and sandy brown hair was proof of her true lineage. Her eyes were as green as the Massaw ho had helped to create her. She was undeniably Massa Woods’ daughter.

  His wife, Elizabeth, had pleaded for her husband to send both Juanty and Hope away, but Massa Woods rejected the idea. Elizabeth was outraged and hated both Juanty and Hope for existing. Juanty knew that Elizabeth would be coming soon with fury in each step. She was evil through and through. Any slave on her land was always in danger, but Juanty, with her bold, beautiful African features, and tautbody, was constantly the target of punishment, even though she worked as hard as she could to stay on Miss Lizzy’s good side.

  This particular night, Juanty wanted to forget about her problems. She needed to feel loved by the only someone in the world she knew without any doubt loved her. She kissed her man’s lips and eased him onto his back. Climbing on top of him, she seated herself onto his male principle and sighed, wrapping herself around his strength. She felt safe with Coffey. She knew he adored her and would die for her happiness. She squeezed her warm, juicy flesh around every inch of his smooth specimen and glided up and down methodically with skilled perfection. She leaned forward and licked his right nipple, teasing it with her tongue. He let out an aroused moan, and the two became lost in a moment of freedom and passion. With each stroke, she was closer and closer to her release. As she had done countless times before, she caressed Coffey’s face with her hands and leaned in to whisper the words she was desperate for him to hear. “I love you now and forever.”

  Coffey grabbed her ample bottom and met her stroke for stroke. He increased his speed, longing to fill her with his seed and usher her into bliss. As her orgasm rocked her body, the sound of the old wood door tore her from her brief reprieve. Dizziness replaced euphoria as pain gripped her body. The lash that hit her naked back sent undeniable fear to each of her nerve endings, and she knew this was her moment of reckoning.

  “Misses, please!”She screeched in horror. She broke the connection from her husband and covered her bare body. She gained enough composure to face the enemies standing before her. Misses and her brother, Luke, who also lived in the big house, stood there with hate-filled eyes.

  “Don’t hurt my family. They’s all I got. The only ones who love me. Please!” Miss Lizzy was evil through and through and Juanty was the source of her disdain. Luke reared back and unleashed the whip again, striking her in the chest, causing the flesh to open.

  “You think you can have a little nigger baby with my husband’s blood running through her little nigger veins? Do you, girl?” Juanty reared back on her haunches and looked Misses square in her ice-cold blue eyes. She understood Misses would not stop until she was destroyed, along with her family. Quiet and focused, she slowly moved to the edge of the bed to stand.

  Taking the tiny bundle in her arms, she mounted her shoulders and prepared for what was to come. “You can’t have my baby,” she resolved. Coffey understood what that meant. He lifted his head, pride showing, and mouthed silently, “I love you now and forever.”

  Coffey quietly eased his hand under his pillow and grabbed his father’s old pistol. He’d had it since he was seventeen and had managed to keep it hidden so he could use it in such a time as this. He knew this would end in certain death, but he also knew he would die fighting for the woman he loved.

  Luke was ready to strike again. He reached back to launch his attack. This
time, Juanty turned her back to him so she could protect Hope as best she could. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the onslaught. Instead, she heard a deafening popping sound, and then another, followed by a thud. She turned to see Luke lying on the floor. His eyes were wide open, a look of surprise tattooed on his face. There was a hole in his forehead. Standing next to his body was a frozen Elizabeth. She held a gun at her waist, smoke coming from the barrel. She slid to her knees and dropped the gun to the floor so she could cradle her brother. Juanty slowly turned her head towards her husband. His body was slumped over. His blood and brain matter were scattered across the wall behind him.

  She almost blacked out. She couldn’t believe just like that, he was gone. She figured her fate would be the same as his. Without Coffey, she wasn’t sure she wanted to live anyway. She hoped Massa would let no harm come to their baby, but the Misses, as evil as she was, would ensure that Hope would live a miserable existence.

  Doom surrounded her thoughts as she grabbed the tip of the whip Luke was still lightly gripping, slowly pulling it into her hand. She hated putting Hope in an impossible situation, even though she had no choice in the matter. Juanty’s master, known as Anet Woods, was in love with her in his own perverted way, but she didn’t trust any white man, especially with her daughter. She was now in full possession of the whip as well as her own dose of hate and rage. She tilted her head to the side and stared at her dead husband. This was all Elizabeth’s fault. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she swung the whip, aiming it at Elizabeth.

  WHAP!

  The high-pitched scream coming from her owner was music to Juanty’s ears, so she made the whip dance and swung it again, getting used to the way it handled in her hand.

  “Nigger, I will have the life drained from your miserable, dark body.” Elizabeth tried to grab the gun, but the whip whistled as it came down on her pink flesh, causing her to shriek in pain. Juanty, in what seemed to be some out-of-body experience, saw herself striking the Misses again and again. She lashed out at this woman for all the years of pain she had bestowed on her because of her husband’s indiscretions. She squeezed her Hope in her arms, thinking that no one would ever treat her baby the way she herself had been treated her entire life. As she reared back for one more blow to Misses’ battered frame, she felt a sharp, searing pain to the side of her head just before the room went dark.

  ***

  Water pounded what was already excruciating pain atop Juanty’s scalp. Ready to die, Juanty had one regret: not being able to protect her baby girl. Where is the Hope in that?

  After being knocked unconscious by one of the overseers on the land, she was immediately dragged to the edge of the property, where one end of a rope was placed around her neck; the other end tied to a huge oak tree. As beautiful as the tree was, its sole purpose on that land was to lynch bad slaves who didn’t know their place. Juanty had seen four or five slaves die there that she could remember, and now it was her turn.

  Mounted quietly on top of a black horse that would send her to her death, she couldn’t figure out if it was rain or tears flowing down her milk chocolate skin. One of her eyeballs had somehow been ripped from its socket, but she managed to spot her master through the fog in the one that remained attached. She hated him and all he represented because he was the reason for her tragic ending. His rape, his lust, his semen coursed through her body, causing her agony and hopelessness. She was alone. She didn’t want to die like this. The shame was too much to bear.

  Where was her Hope? Who would love and care for her? She had no other family that she knew of. She felt desperation join her agony. She knew pleading would be of no value, so she sat as tall as she could. Her breathing was ragged and heavy as Massa’s whip called out into the night. The lash struck the animal’s backside. He galloped away, leaving her body dangling. Her wheezing could be heard in the quiet air. Her body was now numb. Her feet dangled, and she shook violently. She couldn’t feel the pain. She would die thinking of her lover and her Hope.

  She was afraid to close her eye because she didn’t know what would greet her once she did. She never believed in all that stuff Massa forced on them about the good ole white Jesus that told them to be good and obey so they could go to heaven later. Therefore, she thought she would just stare at the limbs protruding from the oak tree until death greeted her. Moreover, it wouldn’t be long since she had begun to hallucinate, seeing three gorgeous naked women walking into view. Sweet Jesus. Death was nothing like she thought. The women were now creatures. They were getting closer. Why is Massa screaming? She couldn’t see what was happening. Was this a dream? She was now delirious and losing consciousness. Death was surely coming.

  ***

  Juanty opened her eyes. They felt heavy. Dazed and unfamiliar with her surroundings, she wanted to panic but was too tired. She knew if she weren’t already dead, the slave catchers would soon make sure she was. Her headache was unbearable, but she had to move if she was going to get her baby girl back or die trying.

  “Ziare, she’s awake.” Juanty’s head pounded as the woman’s words ricocheted off the walls, slapping her ears drums.

  “Please, the noise. Stop yelling,” Juanty whispered. The woman rushed to Juanty’s side with concern in her eyes.

  “Try to relax. You are safe. I promise,” she confided.

  “My name is Ayanna. You were badly beaten and near death. You need time to completely heal.” The woman was stunning with red skin and penetrating, dark-brown eyes that seemed to stare right through you.

  “Please. You gotsta help me. I needs to get my baby girl back.” She had desperation in her eyes as she pleaded. The stranger who called herself Ayanna seemed familiar, and Juanty felt safe, even though she did not know why she was there.

  “You need to heal, Juanty. We will take care of you and help you in whatever way we can, but first, you need to be in better health, and in order to do that, you need rest.” Two other women entered the room. They were the same two who came towards her as she hung limply from the rope.”

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  “To The Corset Clan!” Ziare shouted amongst the crowd of wild and sexy partygoers. “Here. Here,” her three sisters in attendance asserted.

  “Not bad, huh, ladies?” Ziare looked around, referring to the grand opening of the nightclub her and her sisters, Ayanna, Pearl, and Juanty had just built in Atlanta, GA. The club, Corset Nights, was an extension of the boutique they had been operating next door for the past five years. Corset was an upscale boutique in the heart of Downtown Atlanta where mostly wealthy women shopped for beautiful corsets made from the finest fabrics, some of which you couldn’t even find anymore, as well as expensive collectibles from different eras. It was an extremely successful business, but the sisters wanted to do something to break up the monotony in their day-to-day lives. All four were single and thought Corset Nights would be just the venture to spice things up a bit.

  The atmosphere was thick with excitement, and while everyone was on cloud nine and enjoying the momentous occasion, Juanty, the baby of the bunch, sat quietly, nursing both her beverage and a migraine. She was fine when she arrived at the club earlier to oversee the last minute details of the opening, but once she started drinking, she felt like a truck had hit her. A big one. Looking around the chic edifice, she thought about her life and realized she had just about everything a girl could ask for. She was young, beautiful, wealthy, and had sisters who would die for her. So why did she feel so incomplete?

  “Jay, this is a party, not a funeral. What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Pearl quipped. Juanty gave a scowl and turned to examine the beautiful business that had come together so nicely. The building had two levels. The first floor was amazing. Slits of mirrored glass encased the massive space. There were beautiful, black and white marble floors with white pillars throughout. On top of each pillar were white, battery-operated candelabras that allowed for perfect illumination throughout. White and gold colored str
obe lights accented the simple yet elegant ambiance. There were four bar areas strategically placed with plush red sofas and white Greek cement tables for dining and socializing. In the center of the room, the dance floor vibrated with people from all walks of life, both human and immortal, gyrating, twerking and getting their groove on to the latest Kendrick Lamar song. The second floor housed a VIP section for privacy, several offices, restrooms, as well as a huge meeting room and a bar area of its own.

  “Ladies, I think I’m going to call it a night. I can’t seem to shake this headache. You guys hold it down for me,” Juanty spoke through squinted eyes. Her vision was blurry, and if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn she was coming down with something.

  “Ugh! You are always the party pooper, and a corny one at that. Stay! Party! Live a little! You are much too young for this. It’s our grand opening, girl. The night is young, and I want to have some fun.”

  Pearl stood on one of the cement tables they had spent a fortune on to furnish the place. She had already taken four tequila shots to the head and was doing some serious damage to her second mixed drink. She was wearing a skimpy, white, A-line minidress that showed all her juices and berries every time her booty popped as she twerked.

  “Don’t listen to Pearl. Go home and get into bed. We will load you up with all the sexy details tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Ayanna. You always got my back, girl.”

  “Anytime, precious!” Ayanna screamed as her way-too-drunk sisters grabbed her hand and carted her off to the dance floor.

  “Night, ladies,” was all she could manage as she finished off the final gulp of the potent liquid in her glass. She set it down and made her way across the gorgeous marble tile floors. She almost made it to the staircase when some asshole bumped into her, spilling his brown liquor all over her silk, pink corset maxi dress. Great. A perfect ending to a horrific night. She ignored the man’s repeated apologies and walked away instead. She tried her best to make her way up the stairs, but tripped on the third step and landed on her knees. She was too embarrassed to look around to see if anyone had noticed. It seemed everyone was having a good time except for her, and this was her party. She pulled her eyebrows into a frown before making her way to a stand. She felt worse by the second and walked laboriously while removing the black, six-inch Manolo Blahnik sandals she had picked to go with her dress. She squinted, as a sharp dagger must have somehow gotten lodged between both ears. Then, she decided there were no sharp knives around, so it must just be the migraine.