animation that Shantell wished she could stay in. Shantell had more than her share of issues.
To fully understand Shantell Bryant’s life, one would have to take a journey into her past.
----
Chapter 2
The Past: Sugar to Shit
The prestigious, picturesque Ballentyne section of Charlotte, North Carolina represented old money and the white establishment. This tight-knit community was filled with doctors, lawyers, and business professionals. The majority of the city’s rich and powerful lived in Ballantyne. There were even a few prominent Black families who also owned homes there, but examples of the Black man’s fulfillment of the American dream in the Ballentyne section were few and far between. Most of the minorities that ventured into this area either shopped or worked there. This included Brenda Bryant.
To Brenda, this place was an absolute contrast from her neighborhood. Although only a few miles separated the two, they were a world away.
Brenda was a medium–built, light-skinned woman. One could tell that in her time she must have been an eyeful. Even now, in her mid–thirties, she still exuded some sex appeal.
Six days a week, for the past four years, Brenda boarded two city buses just to make it to work. She was a loyal employee, coming to work even in bad weather. She even came when she was sick, and for good reason: she needed the money.
The Anderson family was the name of the people she worked for. John T. Anderson was a very rich and successful investment banker for Wachovia bank. Charlotte happened to be the second biggest banking system outside of New York City. Brenda worked in the Anderson home as a maid. She
carried out all the daily domestic duties like cooking, cleaning, ironing, and even watching the Anderson’s twin daughters.
It was Brenda who made their household run smoothly but truth be told, she was overworked and underpaid. Yet she never complained. Brenda loved the Andersons, for whatever reason. Their success in life was like hers, too. She lived vicariously through them even though she knew she would never ascend to that level of life. Still, that never stopped her from dreaming. It never stopped her from wanting a father for her own children. For that alone, she envied Mrs. Anderson.
Usually when Brenda returned home from work, she was extremely exhausted, but not this night. After working her fingers to the bone for the Anderson’s earlier that day, Brenda decided to go out on the town. Her friends Wanda, Annie and Sheila kept telling her about a nightclub called Vintage, located on Independence Boulevard. Brenda decided to join them for a few drinks there.
The nightclub was packed, wall-to-wall women and men. During the course of the night, drinks flowed freely. Before the night was over the woman were pissy drunk. They then decided to continue the party at Wanda’s apartment, back in Piedmont Courts.
Back then, crack cocaine was ravaging not only the Black community but also the nation. Piedmont Courts was now caught up in the eye of the storm. In these projects almost everybody was on something, even if it was just alcohol.
“Damn, I’m tired as shit,” Brenda commented. “I think I’m about to go home.”
“Damn, already,” Annie said. “Don’t be a party pooper! Stay.”
“Hang out a li’l longer!” Shelia stated. “We hardly ever see each other anymore.”
Brenda was submissive by nature. She was the type who tried to please everybody. As a result, she usually fell short of her own goals that she wanted to accomplish. Often she appeased others at the expense of her own personal happiness.
“Alright, since ya‘ll put it that way,” she replied. “I’ll stay, but I can’t promise for how long because I’m real sleepy.”
The women sat around the kitchen table reminiscing on old times. The liquor continued to flow freely. The woman thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company; it had been so long since they all hung out together. Life had pulled them
To fully understand Shantell Bryant’s life, one would have to take a journey into her past.
----
Chapter 2
The Past: Sugar to Shit
The prestigious, picturesque Ballentyne section of Charlotte, North Carolina represented old money and the white establishment. This tight-knit community was filled with doctors, lawyers, and business professionals. The majority of the city’s rich and powerful lived in Ballantyne. There were even a few prominent Black families who also owned homes there, but examples of the Black man’s fulfillment of the American dream in the Ballentyne section were few and far between. Most of the minorities that ventured into this area either shopped or worked there. This included Brenda Bryant.
To Brenda, this place was an absolute contrast from her neighborhood. Although only a few miles separated the two, they were a world away.
Brenda was a medium–built, light-skinned woman. One could tell that in her time she must have been an eyeful. Even now, in her mid–thirties, she still exuded some sex appeal.
Six days a week, for the past four years, Brenda boarded two city buses just to make it to work. She was a loyal employee, coming to work even in bad weather. She even came when she was sick, and for good reason: she needed the money.
The Anderson family was the name of the people she worked for. John T. Anderson was a very rich and successful investment banker for Wachovia bank. Charlotte happened to be the second biggest banking system outside of New York City. Brenda worked in the Anderson home as a maid. She
carried out all the daily domestic duties like cooking, cleaning, ironing, and even watching the Anderson’s twin daughters.
It was Brenda who made their household run smoothly but truth be told, she was overworked and underpaid. Yet she never complained. Brenda loved the Andersons, for whatever reason. Their success in life was like hers, too. She lived vicariously through them even though she knew she would never ascend to that level of life. Still, that never stopped her from dreaming. It never stopped her from wanting a father for her own children. For that alone, she envied Mrs. Anderson.
Usually when Brenda returned home from work, she was extremely exhausted, but not this night. After working her fingers to the bone for the Anderson’s earlier that day, Brenda decided to go out on the town. Her friends Wanda, Annie and Sheila kept telling her about a nightclub called Vintage, located on Independence Boulevard. Brenda decided to join them for a few drinks there.
The nightclub was packed, wall-to-wall women and men. During the course of the night, drinks flowed freely. Before the night was over the woman were pissy drunk. They then decided to continue the party at Wanda’s apartment, back in Piedmont Courts.
Back then, crack cocaine was ravaging not only the Black community but also the nation. Piedmont Courts was now caught up in the eye of the storm. In these projects almost everybody was on something, even if it was just alcohol.
“Damn, I’m tired as shit,” Brenda commented. “I think I’m about to go home.”
“Damn, already,” Annie said. “Don’t be a party pooper! Stay.”
“Hang out a li’l longer!” Shelia stated. “We hardly ever see each other anymore.”
Brenda was submissive by nature. She was the type who tried to please everybody. As a result, she usually fell short of her own goals that she wanted to accomplish. Often she appeased others at the expense of her own personal happiness.
“Alright, since ya‘ll put it that way,” she replied. “I’ll stay, but I can’t promise for how long because I’m real sleepy.”
The women sat around the kitchen table reminiscing on old times. The liquor continued to flow freely. The woman thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company; it had been so long since they all hung out together. Life had pulled them
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