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get a big break as a model. I was still doing modeling gigs on the side. That flame burned bright in me, and I was ready to jump at the first sign of success.
    Every day my positive attitude expanded, and my confidence grew. In that soul-destroying place I found a way to see the light in the darkness. I could sparkle wherever I was. Then one day, destiny came knocking.
    A tall, dark and handsome man noticed me from across the salesroom floor.
    I didn’t know it yet, but he would become my first lesson in love.

CHAPTER 6: My First Kinda Love
    “My first love, I'll never forget, and it's such a big part of who I am, and in so many ways, we could never be together, but that doesn't mean that it's not forever. Because it is forever.”
    ~ Rashida Jones ~
    That lying player Barry was a tough lesson to learn. I was a teen, fresh out of high school and working my first dismal, disappointing job when he strode confidently into my life.
    At more than 6 foot, Barry was a tall Nigerian man with brown skin and dark eyes. He was quite a bit older than me, but not so old that I didn’t find him instantly attractive from across the salesroom floor.
    I looked up, and there he was, staring right at me with his penetrating eyes. There was something alluring about his gaze. He held himself with such confidence and swagger than even I had to look away after a few seconds.
    Barry looked like a cross between an underwear model and an African prince. If that wasn’t enough, the moment he saw me he cut off the salesman off he was talking too, excused himself, and approached me instead.
    He took my hand in both of his. “Pleasure to meet such a blooming flower in such an unexpected place.” I giggled like a school girl. He reminded me of the music industry types, with his clean white shirt, a sports jacket and expensive slacks. I could instantly tell that he was rich!
    I flushed at his charm and touch. “Can I help you with something?”
    “You surely can. I would like to buy many things, and then perhaps take you on a date this evening?” He leaned down and kissed my hand. I inhaled his aftershave – something luxurious with notes of sandalwood and musk. It was done.
    That day he spent several thousand dollars on furniture and appliances, giving me a hefty commission to match. We set a date for that night, but nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen. Until that point, I was an inquisitive middle class Jamaican girl trying to work my way through life.
    I had tasted wealth through the people I met, but never directly experienced it for myself. I rushed home to tell my sisters all about the African prince I met at Seaman’s. He was going to pick me up at 8 o’clock, and sent me a message telling me to ‘dress up.’
    I was screaming inside, while my sisters were screaming on the outside. I tore off my work uniform and dumped it in the floor. He wouldn't see me in that stiff sack again.
    I tried on dress after dress.
    “Chill,” my sisters advised me. “He’s not going to take you to Red Lobsters.”
    At last, I settled on a sheer number that was classic and classy.
    A knock on my bedroom door some time later, and I was ready. It was my mother. “There is a very enthusiastic and charming gentleman outside in a limousine for you, Crystal,” she said.
    My sisters squealed in excitement, huddled around the front window, peering out to see him and the limo he drove in.
    I greeted him, and his eyes lit up. When he took my hand, his grip was warm and confident. Together we walked to the white stretched limo, where the driver opened the door for me.
    That evening we drank exquisite French champagne in the limo before we even arrived at the restaurant—an exclusive spot reserved for the rich and famous only. They greeted him like they knew him well.
    More than that, because I was with him they treated me like royalty, even though I was wearing clothes from Walt Whitman Mall. Barry made me feel like the center of the