The other day my friend, Betsey, texted me about my manuscript and wondered whether I am Darby, just in non-vamp form.
Darby is this tiny fireball, fierce and sensual, brassy, ballsy and Southern to her core. She says things like “I’m sweatin’ like a whore in church” or “it’s hotter than a billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch” and sounds sexy as hell doing so. She walks into a room and all eyes are on her, she knows it and she loves it. Darby owns the room and everyone in it and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is power, charm and élan, dressed head to toe in Chanel, quick with a suggestive, come-hither smirk, all to pull you under her spell so she can drain you dry. She revels in her deadly nature, making no apologies for herself or her lifestyle.
What you see is what you get with Darby Winthrop. And if you don’t like what you see, well…she’ll probably just kill you and keep it moving.
The fact that Betsey thinks I am even half as fierce as Darby is pretty freaking cool.
“You can’t match this, rapper / actress, more powerful than two Cleopatras.” Lauryn Hill