Hell House Read online

  Dear Reader:

  Reality shows have definitely become the craze on television. Collectively, tens of millions of people gather around their flat-screens, projector sets, iPads, etc. on any given day to live their lives vicariously through the drama, heartache and comedic moments of others. In Brenda Hampton’s Hell House, we gain much insight into the inner workings of the minds of such contestants. Why would someone even agree to be on an elimination show? Live in a house with complete strangers for several weeks or months? Give up their connection to the outside world for an extended period of time? Put up with personal attacks on their character, or engage in mind games to seduce, trick, and break down other individuals? The obvious answers are money and fame but such is not always the most prominent reason.

  In Hell House, Hampton introduces us to six unique, variously motivated people who quickly get out of control once they meet their new roommates. From the less-than-seasoned female contestant who struggles to pronounce big words but can work her way around a kitchen like no other, to a vain young man who is already wealthy but needed a break from his hectic lifestyle, readers are drawn into their intriguing mindsets from the very beginning. But this is only the first of three books. Like real elimination shows, people will have to vacate the premises one-by-one until a winner is declared. Hell House is a rare and bold concept that will surely garner much acclaim.

  As always, thanks for supporting the authors of Strebor Books. We always try to bring you groundbreaking, innovative stories that will entertain and enlighten. For a list of complete titles, please visit www.zanestore.com and I can be located at www.facebook.com/AuthorZane or reached via email at [email protected].

  Blessings,

  Zane

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  I couldn’t believe that I agreed to do this bullshit. And it surprised me when I stepped inside of the so-called Hell House in St. Louis and didn’t see anyone. The Miami Vice-style glass doors left me with a dramatic first impression that was kind of dope. I could very well be satisfied living here for the next three months; the living conditions resembled a penthouse I used to have while selling cocaine. That was then, this is now. Now, I was on lock by my fiancée, Desa Rae Jenkins, who recently suggested that we needed to explore life and try different things. In other words, she was tired of my black ass hanging around her house and wanted a break from our relationship. I also needed a break, so I jumped on this opportunity to jet away for a while.

  I dropped my Nike duffle bag at the door and glanced upwards at the vaulted, sloped ceiling. The smell of newness was in the air and the glossy marble floor in the foyer was polished to perfection, displaying a glare of my chocolate fineness. Umph, I thought while staring at the blurred image of me. I wet my thick lips, then headed toward the kitchen to scope the rest of the amenities in this immaculate one-story crib.

  “What up? Anybody here?” I called out, cautiously taking slow steps down a narrow hallway that had framed pictures of modern art on the freshly painted white walls. My new Air Jordans left imprints in the cottony carpet that led to a spacious, sunken living room area on the right and an urban-style kitchen with stainless steel appliances to the left. Checking out my surroundings, I narrowed my eyes into the living room that was laid out with a horseshoe-shaped microfiber sofa and square pillows. A forty-two-inch flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall. Underneath the TV were bookshelves filled with many books for someone’s reading pleasure—definitely not mine. Numerous multicolored beanbags were also in the living room, and I assumed they were there for chilling purposes.

  The living room could be chalked up as simple, but the high-priced kitchen was kicking ass. Everything was white, navy or stainless steel. Navy pendant lights hung above a white rectangular countertop that was surrounded with wavy curved-back barstools that had a steel finish. The decorator damn sure needed a kiss, but she wouldn’t get one from me since I was now a reformed man.

  While thinking about Desa Rae, I eased my hands into my jean pockets and looked out a sliding glass door that viewed a backyard my hood relatives could only dream of. There was an Olympic-sized swimming pool with crystal-clear blue water, tennis and basketball courts, and rock waterfalls used for diving. The lawn was well manicured and lounge chairs were all over the patio. At 103 degrees outside, I damn sure knew where most of my time would be spent. Yeah, my skin color was already black as charcoal, so I wasn’t worried about the sun baking it much more.

  I was getting impatient and sighed after licking my lips again. The motherfuckers running this show told me to be here at two o’clock, but when I looked at my watch, it was already two-thirty. Deciding to see what else was up, I turned away from the kitchen to go check out where I would have to lay my head. I noticed that the carpet trail split into two directions, so I shifted to the left first, entering a modern bathroom with unique stainless steel faucets, a pearly white toilet and a shower squared with thick glass. All the white made me nervous. I sure as hell hoped that I wouldn’t be shacked up in this crib with a bunch of nasty people. I was eager to see who those people would be, especially the women—for whatever reason that might be.

  I backtracked to the other hallway and that was where I found a room with three full-sized beds against one wall and three beds against the wall in front of it. The beds were covered with multicolored comforters and colorful sheets. Wasn’t feeling that shit and the beds were too small. Nametags with our names on them sat near the edge of each bed. One by one I checked out the names, noticing that the brothers were on one side of the room and the sisters were on the other. That didn’t work for me either, so I rearranged some things. I put my nametag on the bed that was in between Chase’s and Sylvia’s beds. Jada’s nametag I put between Prince’s and Jaylin’s beds. I hoped Jada wasn’t the finest one in the bunch, but then again it didn’t matter either way. I was on lock. That was today, didn’t account for tomorrow.

  There was no window in the cramped room, but there was one sizeable walk-in closet. It was obvious that all this room was good for was sleeping and fucking. Didn’t think I’d be spending much time chilling in the bedroom, so I made my exit, realizing that time was moving on and my grand tour of this crib was over.

  I took another look at my watch, then reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone. Somebody needed to tell me what the fuck was up. I was getting impatient. A nigga like me was beginning to think this was some kind of setup. I’d been in these situations before. My instincts were saying run! The information guide and itinerary that I received said the meet and greet of contestants would begin at two. It was way after two, so fuck it. I felt the need to jet, so I put my phone back into my pocket and grabbed my duffle bag. Once it was on my shoulder, I headed toward the door, but was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a taxi pull up. I squinted as I peeked through the glass, trying to get a glimpse at the fine-ass woman whose peep-toe stilettos had touched the ground. She had long, light-skinned legs that were made for riding. I was eager to see her face, and as soon as she exited the taxi, I could feel my nature trying to rise. That ass was fat and those hips swayed with rhythm as she made her way up the long driveway. Her weaved-in ponytail swung from side to side and was tightly pulled back, making her hazel eyes slant. I sucked in a deep breath and backed away from the door. Checked myself again, while looking down at the floor and hoping that the white wife-beater I had on wasn’t too laid-back. It showed my tats that so many women loved and I figured she wouldn’t be able to look away from my bulging muscles. Lance Gross didn’t have shit on me, but there were some who would beg to differ. This chick, however, was classy and I liked that. She wasn’t Full Figured how I normally liked my women, but I could definitely work with her. Unfortunately,
if this was Jada, I had already messed up by putting her nametag on the other side of the room. Big mistake, no doubt, but after this bullshit was over I was sure there would be plenty.

  I saw his blackness through the door, but why wouldn’t he come outside to help me with my bags? Some men were so lazy and he obviously wasn’t the exception. I hoped that someone else was here to help me. I had about six bags in the taxi and needed some assistance. The taxi driver claimed that he had broken his leg, but my question to him was where were the crutches? He didn’t have an answer for that and I didn’t have an answer for my wallet somehow disappearing. That is what I planned to tell him, once I got my belongings out of his taxi.

  Instead of pushing on the front door, I pursed my lips and knocked with an attitude. It was scorching hot outside, and I was dying for a glass of ice-cold water. But when the door flew open, my thirst was more than quenched by saliva that almost slipped from my wide mouth. The rule was to never let a man see me sweat, so I quickly clamped my mouth shut, trying to downplay my instant attraction to the brother on the other side of the door. With tattoos running up and down his arms, he looked to be straight out of prison. But so damn what! I loved a man who was a bit rough around the edges, and I’d had enough of the business-minded married ones with clingy wives who liked to start trouble. After seeing him, my whole attitude had changed. I almost broke a heel as I rushed inside to see if he had been invited to Hell House, too. Right now, it felt more like Heaven’s House.

  I held out my hand to shake his. “And you are?” I said, awaiting an answer.

  “Yo baby daddy.” He smiled, displaying those snow-white teeth against all that black. Lord have mercy on me. I couldn’t help but to play along with him.

  “Well, baby daddy, do you think you can help me with my bags? They’re still out in the taxi. The driver claims that his leg is broken and he won’t help me.”

  “I got you,” he said, passing by me to go outside. His good-smelling cologne tickled my nose and left me standing in awe. I was in a daze until I heard his voice. It shook me from my thoughts.

  “Wha…what did you say?” I said, watching as he walked backward down the driveway.

  “I said, since I got you, you gotta have me, too. That’s on a for real tip right there.”

  Okay, so his language wasn’t all that great, but I still gave him a nod. If this worked out, yeah, I had his back, front, side and then some. I was single, loving it and hadn’t made any commitments to anyone, especially since that trick, Liz, caught me in bed with her husband. Liz was my boss and that day still haunts me. I’ve been careful not to date married men with bright wives. If she wasn’t bright then that was a different story. The hubby was considered fair game and nine times out of ten he was mine.

  My baby daddy was trying to impress me by carrying all six bags into the house. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and he pulled up his wife-beater to dab the sweat. I got a glimpse of his abs. The look of them almost sent me to my knees, begging him to slip something into my mouth. I wanted to rip his clothes off right then and there, but I didn’t want to blow it, as I had done so many times in the past.

  “Thank you so much, but please tell me your name,” I said.

  “Roc,” he said. How fitting for a stallion of a man like him? “But before you tell me yo name, you’d better go outside to pay the taxi driver. He’s about to clown on yo ass. I wouldn’t want him to do that, especially since I’m enjoyin’ the look of it.”

  I didn’t respond, but since he was enjoying it, I made sure he got a good look at my butt as I sashayed back to the taxi. I could only imagine what Roc was thinking. My tight, gray skirt hugged my backside like a long lost best friend, and my red silk shirt was draped low in the front, showing off my 36 C’s. I had no idea what I was going to embark upon coming to Hell House, but I was thankful that my attire was professional and sexy.

  “How much do I owe you?” I inquired to the taxi driver while digging into my purse.

  The Fred Sanford-looking black man cut his eyes at me and then he pointed to his meter. “The car was still runnin’ while you were inside. You owe me a hundred and fifty-two dollars.”

  It sounded like he had gunpowder clogged in his throat. My hand quickly moved to my hip and the attitude was back.

  “One hundred and fifty what?” I yelled. “Are you kidding me?”

  He had the audacity to put up his hand, displaying the numbers. “Five. Two. Fifty-two and the meter is still runnin’.”

  “And I’m going to be running in a minute as well because that is too much money. Besides, I can’t seem to find my wallet. Did I leave it on the backseat?”

  Yep, he was playing me like a fool, but please Don’t Even Go There because I could play him so much better. I opened the back door and bent over to feel the floor, as if I was searching for my wallet. Roc was getting a clear view of what to expect when he hit it from the back, and without any panties on, I bent further over.

  “I don’t know what happened to my wallet. Are you sure you didn’t see it?” I said to the driver.

  “No, I didn’t see yo wallet, but you need to get my money or else there’s about to be some trouble.”

  See, he just pissed me off. Some men hadn’t a clue where to draw the line. Was he really going to beat my ass because I didn’t have the money? No. I eased out of the backseat and closed the door.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t find my wallet,” I said with a shrug. “Either you can call the police or overcharge some of your other customers to make up the difference.”

  “Or, I can get out of this taxi and fuck you up. That’s what I’m about to do!”

  He swung the door open and hopped out of the taxi like he was trained by Bruce Lee. Broken leg, my ass. I didn’t have to say one word because my baby daddy was right there to intervene.

  “What’s up, old school?” Roc asked as he stood over the taxi driver in a very intimidating manner. “Why you out here tryin’ to rip this woman off? You didn’t even want to help her with her bags, and now you disrespectin’ her over some money? She said she lost her wallet, so nothin’ else needs to be said.”

  The taxi driver backed away from Roc, but I stood close behind him in case something popped off. If anyone was going to get cut, it wasn’t going to be me. Baby daddy was going down by himself.

  “Look, man, just get this broad to give me my money. After that I’m out of here. If not, I’m gon’ have to call the police. If I have to go that route, things will get ugly.”

  Maybe so because baby daddy looked like the kind of brother who probably had warrants. I didn’t want him to get arrested, so I tried to compromise with the foolish taxi driver by offering him twenty dollars. “Here,” I said, handing the bill to him. “It’s all I have. Take it or leave it.”

  He reached inside of the taxi for his phone. “Fuck this shit. I should’ve called the police from the get-go.”

  “Dialin’ the police means some blood may have to be shed,” Roc said. “So think before you act. I don’t have any dollars on me right now, but give me yo address and I’ll mail the rest to you later.”

  It was obvious that Roc was gangsta, but there was no need for blood to shed. The old man pondered what to do and then all of our eyes shifted to a triple-black Mercedes with tinted windows. We could barely see who was inside, but when the passenger-side door swung open, I staggered backward and almost fell on my ass. Baby daddy had a twisted look on his face and the taxi driver stared as if he wished he were a woman. Almost in slow motion, a light-skinned brother with dark shades shielding his eyes emerged from the car. The smell of money was blowing through the air and we all inhaled it. He knew he was the shit and the ones who never smiled always had a big ego. I surely wanted to ignore him, but couldn’t. He threw up the deuces sign to the driver and the driver backed away to leave. Professionally dressed like I was, the tailored navy suit he wore couldn’t be duplicated. It had to be made specifically for him and the way it clung to the frame of his body
was breathtaking. From the tip of the natural curls in his hair, to those shiny, black shoes that hit the pavement as he swaggered forward, he was flawless.

  “I hope I’m not too late,” he said, looking directly at me behind his stare. He was still at a short distance, but I was speechless, until baby daddy cleared his throat.

  “Too late for what?” Roc asked. “Ain’t too much of nothin’ happenin’ yet.”

  Shiiiit, baby daddy needed to speak for himself. There were a whole lot of things happening—inside of my coochie, of course. I was too ashamed to elaborate.

  As Mr. Handsome came closer, he moved like a theme of music played in his head. His eyes gave me an intense stare down, and when he pulled his shades away from his face, I felt like his addictive steel-gray eyes were firing bullets from an AK-47. His gaze was so powerful that it sent shockwaves throughout my entire body. Sadly, I could feel a slow drip of sweat sliding down my forehead. Get it together, Chase, now! Never let a man see you sweat or else you’re screwed! Right about now, getting screwed wasn’t a bad idea.

  “Nothing happening,” Mr. Sexy said to me, ignoring Roc altogether. They both were checking me out and that was a good thing. “If ain’t nothing happening, why is everybody outside looking irate?”

  The taxi driver couldn’t wait to speak up. “I dropped her off at this house, and she left me out here, sittin’ in the car for at least thirty minutes. When she came back, I told her that she had to pay up. She got mad, and the next thing I know, this man out here yellin’ and threatenin’ to hurt me for only doin’ my job. I don’t want no trouble from nobody, but this cheap bitch done tried to get over on me. If she don’t pay up, I will call the police.”

  “First of all,” Roc said, preparing his defense for me. “Get yo time straight because she wasn’t inside for no thirty minutes. If you had not lied to her about your leg bein’ broken, this wouldn’t even be no problem. Fess up and admit to your laziness. I wouldn’t pay you one damn dime either, so why don’t you go ahead and call the police?”