Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 19

DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK, TAKES THE 20-QUESTION QUIZ!

Meet Devon Drake. Oops, we're interrupting him while he's getting dressed. Didn't think you'd mind that, he certainly doesn't!


I gave him the 20-question quiz. Here are his answers:

   1.      Chocolate or vanilla? Strawberry, actually.      2.     Airplane or train?    Airplane. Love the take-off, kind of like sex. Can I say that?
   3.     Walking or driving? Driving. Preferably a Maserati.
   4.     Red or Blue?              Blue, like the ocean.
   5.     Country or Rock?     Rock. 80’s rock.
   6.     Dog or cat?                 Pug – Brodie. Smart, obedient pup. 
   7.     Lemonade or Iced Tea?  Texas Iced Tea.
   8.     Vodka or Whiskey?    Gin. Or vodka.
   9.     Mounds or Almond Joy? Who’s mounds? (laughs)
   10.   Action movies or Thrillers? Bruce Willis or Will Ferrell movies.
   11.   Men – brunette or blond?    Brunette, that’s brown hair, right?
   12.   Women – brunette, blonde or redhead? Redhead, nice boobs, not huge. A nice handful. Yeah. Blue eyes, too.   13.    Steak or lobster?  Lobster. Steamed, boiled, broiled, in a lobster roll, in an omelet. Lobster for sure.
   14.    French fries or Salad? Fries, but I eat salad. Have to keep my weight down. Stormy makes the best salad.
   15.    Pistachios or Peanuts?  Peanut butter but pistachios in nut form.
   16.    Beer or Wine? Beer. Ice cold.
   17.    Beach or Mountains? Beach. Love the waves. Great place for sex, if you’re careful.
   18.    Oatmeal or scrambled eggs? Eggs. Oatmeal sucks.
   19.    Sausage or Bacon? Bacon and sausage. Why should I have to choose only one?
 20.    Pretty or Witty? Both – Love a funny woman. If she makes me laugh, she’s got my heart.
Here's his childhood friend, Stormy. She's his sister's best friend. Is she dating him? You'll have to read the book to find out. 


















A bit about the book Devon Drake, star cornerback, has it all: hot super model girlfriend and pro football career, or does he? A childhood friend wanders back into his life, upsetting his ideal existence. Is it finally time to  tell her the truth about what happened fifteen years ago?Stormy Gregory is on the run from an abusive man. Her best friend offers her a safe place at the shelter for abused women and children. Grateful to be out of harm’s way, Stormy helps with a charitable event, not expecting to run into Devon Drake, her friend’s brother. Will she run again rather than face rejection? Cracks in his perfect world threaten the cornerback’s starting lineup status. An unwelcome surprise short-circuits Stormy’s attempt to build a new life. Can they pull together or will the secret that separates the former friends keep them on a downward spiral?   
RELEASEING 8/24 - PREORDER IT HERE:
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TUESDAY TALES - MAGGIE'S STORY - LAST INSTALLMENT

Welcome! The word prompt this week is "writing". This will be the last installment of Maggie's Story until the novella comes out. Thank you for stopping by and reading this emotional story. 
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 Maggie slipped her hand into John’s as the Judge asked Penn to take the witness stand. The magistrate turned to face the boy. He asked questions and scribbled notes. Maggie was sure she had broken John’s hand, she squeezed so hard.          After Penn stepped down, John, then Maggie took the stand. She twisted a hanky when she answered questions, but wasn’t able to hold back tears.           She gripped the railing for support as she pushed to her feet. Uncle Alfred followed her. There was a brief recess. John and Maggie flanked Penn. Though he was taller than she, Maggie slipped her arm around him.           They were called back into the courtroom. The judge cleared his throat.           “I have your statement in writing, Penn. I’ve read it carefully and heard the answers of all the parties. It may be unorthodox, but I’ve decided to let you stay with Maggie and John for the next year. Your uncle will manage your financial affairs and provide an adequate income for you to live on. After a year, the court will revisit your living situation. If, at that time, the court finds that you are not receiving proper supervision, your custody will be transferred to your uncle.”          Maggie gasped and reached for John.           “Do you understand, young man? If you seize this chance to live with these caring people as an opportunity to run wild, the court will put a stop to it. They will be dismissed and you will be moved to your uncle’s home.”          “I do, Your Honor.”          “You’re willing to abide by their rules?”          “I am, sir.”          “Keep up with your schoolwork, stay away from drugs and alcohol?”          “Yes, sir.”          “And you, Maggie and John? Are you willing to take the duties of parenting seriously? Are you willing to be available to Penn?”          “We are, Your Honor,” John said.           “Be with him day in and day out?”          “Yes, sir,” Maggie said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.           “Take full responsibility for Penn, as if he were your own flesh and blood?”          “We gladly accept that, Your Honor,” John said.           “Very well. Then it’s is the opinion of this court that Penn Roberts shall remain in the custody of John and Maggie for one full year –at which time custody will be re-evaluated based on the boy’s progress. Court is adjourned.”          Maggie let out the breath she had been holding, and the tears as well. Even John misted up as he grinned broadly.  Penn joined them in a group hug. His eyes were full. Arthur stopped on his way out.           “Good luck raising a teenager,” he harrumphed.           “Thank you, sir. I’m sure we’ll need it,” Maggie replied.           The older man frowned. “Don’t know how I’m going to tell your aunt, Penn.”          “You’ll figure out something, Uncle Alfred. You always do,” Penn responded.           The threes piled into their car and John drove them home. Once inside, Penn went to his room and closed the door. Maggie started dinner while John poured them each a glass of wine. They clinked glasses.           “Our boy. He really is our boy now, old girl.”          “That he is.”          “Of course, when he’s eighteen, he’s his own man. No custody then. Is three years enough?”          “The court’s only giving us one. But they’ll see. Yes, three years would be heaven. Parent teacher conferences. Mother’s Day. Oh, John, three years is a dream come true.”          She wiped her eyes before raising her glass.           “To Penn. Our boy. Our son. Even if only for a little while.”
“Amen, my lovely.”
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TUESDAY TALES, PICTURE PROMPT - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

MAGGIE’S STORY 

          Penn’s door opened. When he joined the others in the living room, Maggie saw that his face was streaked with tears.           “Hello, Penn. So sorry about your parents,” Alfred said, shifting his weight.           “Now you get dad’s business, don’t you?” Penn eased down onto the sofa.          “Your dad left his half of the business to you, with me as your trustee until you’re twenty-one.”          “Really?”          “He had faith in you my boy. I have custody papers here. If you’ll just sign them.”          Maggie held her breath.           “We can look after him, “ John piped up.           Alfred snorted. “You?”          “I’m going to call a lawyer,” Penn said, pushing up from his chair. “That’s what dad would tell me to do.”          “Don’t you want to move in with me and your Aunt Muriel?”          “I don’t know what I want. Right now, I want to stay here.”          “I’ll leave you here then. After you’ve consulted an attorney, have him call me.”          Alfred handed the boy a business card and left.           Maggie brought out a sandwich and a glass of milk from the kitchen, but Penn wouldn’t eat. The doorbell rang. John went. He returned with a large vase of pink and white roses and a fat box of chocolates that he placed on the coffee table.           “Oh, Christ, it’s Mother’s Day,” Penn moaned, after reading the message. He tossed the card on the table, then picked up one of the beautiful flowers. . The housekeeper retrieved the card . It was from the Mister to his wife.“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” He asked.           Tears clouded Maggie’s eyes. “She was, lad. The most beautiful.”          Penn fell into her arms, sobbing. In a few minutes, he managed to pull himself together. He handed Maggie the box of chocolates.
          “You’re my mother now.”
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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PEN"

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. The word prompt is "pen" and MAGGIE'S STORY continues. Thank you for coming. Click HERE to return to the awesome stories of Tuesday Tales.

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Maggie turned pleading eyes to John. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder.“Sit down, Master Penn.”“Stop kidding around, John.”“You know I never kid about things like this.”The boy paled as he sank into a chair in the kitchen. John took another breath and cleared his throat. He sniffed and blinked before he spoke. “There is news, son. I’m afraid it isn’t good.”“What the?” Penn rose from his chair until John’s hand eased him back down.“There was bad weather. A storm. The plane went down before they could land on St. Thomas, somewhere between Florida and the Caribbean.”A gasp from the boy tore at Maggie’s heart. “I’m so sorry to say, no one survived.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “No!”Penn leaped out of his chair. “You’re lying!” The boy swung, but John sidestepped before the fist connected with his jaw. Penn pushed John out of the way, stopped to stare at Maggie with wild eyes, then ran to his room.Maggie started after him, but John grabbed her arm. “Let him go. He’s got to come to terms with this.”“But we can help.”“Not this time.”The intercom from the lobby sounded. John answered.“That’s Uncle Alfred. He’s coming up.”A tremble seized Maggie. “He’ll take him. He’ll take Penn. We’ll lose our boy.”John wrapped his arms around her. “Get a grip, my girl. Get a grip. Penn will always be ours, no matter where he is.”Alfred opened the door.“Where’s Penn?”“In his room,” Maggie responded, straightening her dress. He pulled a pen from his breast pocket. “He’s got to sign some papers.”“Please, Mr. Alfred. The boy’s upset. He needs time.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I’m taking custody.”
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TUESDAY TALES - BLOOM - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

Welcome! Today's word prompt is "bloom". Maggie's story continues. Thank you for stopping by. Please return to the fabulous Tuesday Tales authors HERE . 

**************MAGGIE'S STORY“Bloody hell, you say,” Maggie said, dropping the empty bucket.Before he could move, the phone rang again. He answered it, his voice shaking. All she heard was his side of the conversation, which consisted of “ yes” and “no”. When he hung up, his eyes filled. He looked straight at her, grasped the table and muttered, “Bloomin’ hell. It’s gone down and they’re all dead. Passengers, crew. The lot.”“Oh no. No, John, no, no, no. Say the Missus is okay. She’s in hospital, right?” A shiver mixed with a tremble and shot through Maggie’s body. John simply stared at her, his face as white as snow, and shook his head.“Gone, Maggie, my girl. Gone. I’m sorry.”A lump formed in her throat as she tried to wrap her mind around the truth. Her knees wobbled. John caught her as she pitched forward. Once in his arms, she sobbed into his shirt. His chest heaved as he cried with her. When she could take a breath, she closed shaking fingers around his biceps. “What are we gonna do?” “That was Alfred, Mister’s brother. He’s coming over.”“When?”
“I don’t know. Seems as if he’s got to call the lawyer.”“Penn will be home from school in half an hour,” she said, chewing on a nail.“Good lord, Mr. Penn!” John lowered his head to his hands.“We’ve got to tell him.”“I don’t know. Maybe we should wait for Alfred,” John said.
“We can’t. He’ll know. We can’t lie.” Tears broke through again as she realized Penn had lost both his parents at once. “My poor boy, my poor boy.” Maggie shook her head. John poured two snifters of the Mister’s private stock of brandy and handed one to Maggie. “Bottom’s up, old girl.”The liquid went down smooth, warming her on its way. When they finished, she washed the glasses, glad to have something to do. Maggie glanced at the clock and her heart raced. The lad will be here any moment.Terrified, she retreated to her quarters. The front door opened. A male voice sang as the lock clicked closed. Maggie clung to John, squeezing him around the middle. He tightened his embrace. They stood totally silent.
“Maggie?” Penn called from the kitchen.Her breathing shallow, she slid their door open and ventured into the hall. Penn came by, carrying a plate sporting half a ham sandwich. He carried the rest in his hand and took a bite. With a full mouth he greeted the housekeeper. She nodded, attempting to smile. When he had swallowed the food, he spoke. “I didn’t get a text from Mom that they landed okay. She’s silly about that stuff. But she always reports in. Like something might happen? Yeah, right,” he sniffed.Maggie froze, the blood drained from her face. Penn glanced at her, then stopped. “I don’t mean to be a wuss, but did you hear from her?”  

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TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT "TIGER" MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

“Maggie, which should I wear? This pants outfit or the dress?”“Traveling in a dress? Not too comfortable, I’d say,” Maggie replied, as she dusted the lampshades in Mr. and Mrs. Roberts’ bedroom. “You’re so right. I’m nervous about this trip. We’ve never been away from Penn for three weeks.”“We’ll watch over him.”“I’m sure you’ll take good care of him.”“He’s a teen. Good lad, but rebellious. He’ll get over it.”“I hope so. Pants outfit it is.” Maggie packed Anne’s clothes in a chic, tiger-striped suitcase. The women chatted, comparing notes, piecing together the tidbits Penn shared about his life and his feelings.“John says he saw Penn talking to the same redheaded girl three afternoons in a row, when he picked him up. Said her name's Emma,” Maggie said, folding a blue nightie. “Emma, huh?” Anne smiled.“He’s gonna be a real ladykiller. Such a handsome boy.”“And sweet, too. Don’t you think?” Anne brushed her hair, then handed the brush to Maggie.“The sweetest.”“At least he was until he hit puberty. I’m hoping he’ll return to the child I adore, and soon,” Anne said, grinning. When the bags were packed, Maggie retreated to the kitchen to tend the special dinner she was preparing. Roast duck and pan roasted potatoes, a family ritual meal before his parents took a trip. Penn breezed in with John after school. He opened the fridge.“Your plate is on the table,” Maggie said. “Now don’t be gettin’ in my way.”Penn picked up the plate with a grilled cheese sandwich, carrot sticks and two homemade, chocolate chip cookies. He grabbed the glass of milk with his other hand.“Thanks, Maggie.”The dinner went off perfectly. The Roberts’ were leaving at six the next morning in a private plane bound for Central America. John was up at five, sipping coffee. At five thirty, he left to bring the car around.“Have a safe trip,” Maggie said, when Anne gave her a hug. A sleepy Penn yawned and scratched his chin as he joined them. There were hugs, kisses and promises made all around before they left the apartment. Maggie and Penn went back to sleep. The alarm went off at eight as usual. When John returned from dropping Penn at school, Maggie had made Eggs Benedict. “Quiet day,” John said, sipping his coffee.“Got some cleaning to catch up on.”“Can I help?”“Finish that book you’ve been readin’. I can manage.”He helped clear the table and shooed her away from the dishes. As she gathered her cleaning things, the phone rang. John answered it. “Roberts residence.”Maggie glanced up, but stopped what she was doing when she saw his face turn pale. “Right. Thank you.” His voice was almost a whisper. “What? What?” Maggie stopped moving. “Their plane’s gone down.” 

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT

Welcome! This week is a picture prompt and a limit to only 300 words. Maggie's Story continues. Thank you for coming. 
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“Penn, you’re fourteen, time you learned to walk your own dog,” John said, handing the leash to the teen. “Do I have to?”“You do, darling boy. Your mother would be proud,” Mary said, opening the back door to their fabulous country mansion in upstate New York. “Come on, boy.” Penn led Lucky, the golden retriever, out the back door. John tagged along behind with Maggie.“Fine day for a walk, milady.”They headed for a walk lined with tall trees. Penn threw a ball for the dog, who promptly caught it and brought it back. He laughed as the animal wagged his tail. “I love to see him with Lucky. Such a happy lad,” she said.“That he is. Even though his father makes no time for him.”“Hush. None of our business,” she said, taking his hand. “Don’t make excuses for him.”“At least he has his mother.”“Until he takes her on this long vacation.”“That’s a year away.”“Why don’t they take the boy?” John steered them to follow in Penn’s path.“He’s unruly. Teen, you know, John. What were you like?”“Me? Perfect lad. Respectful. Honorable. Studious.”Maggie burst out laughing.
“Can’t fool you, can I?”“Nope.”“Okay. I did have one brush with the law. But only one.”“Look at our boy. Easily the most handsome boy in his school. And the smartest.”“Best athlete, too.”“If his father only knew.”“Probably better than his old man.”“Certainly is.”“Ever miss having our own?”“Let’s not talk about it. We have him. That’ll have to be enough.”John sighed. “Right, as usual. You know, the day you’re wrong the world’ll explode.”“Silly boy!” She pushed him, playfully. John kissed her hand. “My Maggie, smartest of all.”“Married you, didn’t I?”

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TUESDAY TALES - MAGGIE'S STORY - FLEXIBLE

        
Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. This week, Maggie and John's story continues. Don't forget to return to the excellent Tuesday Tales writers through the link below. 


********  
  Maggie and John had Sunday afternoon off. Usually they went out, but the inclement weather had Maggie and John in their quarters. Mr. and Misses and little Penn had gone visiting. “Brunch, I think Misses said,” John said, opening the newspaper.
Their little suite of two rooms was comfy. There was a wood-burning fireplace in the sitting room and a new, queen-sized bed in the bedroom. Maggie was stretched out on the sofa with a crocheted blanket keeping her snug. John was sitting in a rocker, his legs crossed, perusing the news.“No good news today, my girl.”“Isn’t that usually the case.” She sighed. Restless, she pushed the blanket down and swung her legs over. She wore a skimpy shift she used as a nightgown in winter. The howl of the winterish wind rattled the panes and made her shiver. “Nasty out there,” she muttered. Looking up she spied John’s gaze. The heat he generated made her nipples harden. A slow grin spread across her face.“I’ve got an idea how to beat the winter blues.” He stood and moved to the cushion next to her. ­“Do ya now?” She smiled up at him. He lowered his mouth to hers and snaked his arm around her waist. Love for John pushed all other thoughts out of her head. It didn’t take him long to disrobe. “I was watching some acrobats on telly.”“Were you now?” She replied.“Oh my. Some of the things that woman could do. Reminded me of you,” he chuckled.“What do you mean?”“I mean she was…let’s say, flexible?”“Flexible?”“Imagine her husband is a happy man.”“What did you have in mind?” She rested her hands on her hips.“Oh, I don’t know.”“You do so. Come on. Tell me.”He leaned over and whispered in her ear. Maggie giggled. “Why John! What a naughty thought.”“Isn’t it grand?” He grinned like a schoolboy who brought an apple to the teacher. “We could try it.”Just as he got her into the position he wanted, and entered her, the front door to the apartment shut. “Damn,” she muttered.“Did ya lock the door?”Maggie nodded. She held her breath. “Quick. While we still have a moment.”“Do I have to?”“Better quick than nothin’.”“Point taken.”After a few moans, the pair was satisfied. A young voice drifted their way.“Where’s Maggie and John?”“I imagine they’re having some private time,” a female voice said.“Not without me,” young Penn piped up.

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TUESDAY TALES - PROMP "STIFF" MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

Thank you so much for coming. Don't forget to go back to Tuesday Tales and read the excellent stories there. Maggie's story continues this week. 

* * * * * * * 
Penn hated when his parents fought. Luckily his apartment was big enough for him to escape. This was the same old argument –about his playing baseball. Maggie, John, and his mother tried to sneak him out to games, but his father had come home early one Sunday to an empty house. The farthest room was a tiny one. It was a large closet his dad had had fashioned into an art studio for his mom.  When he was little, he’d sneak in so quietly no one knew he was there. He’d look at all the paintings, chalks and watercolors is mother painted.Even when he was little, he didn’t touch anything. He knew if he did, he’d be banished. Just being in that room, he felt his mother’s presence, her joy, her warmth, her love. Now he was older. So he picked up a piece of chalk and found a pad of paper. He sat cross-legged on the floor and began to draw. 

****  Maggie had discovered his hiding place, but never gave him away. Since the boy did no harm, she protected his secret. Maggie and John had retreated to their quarters when the quarrel began. But when it simmered down, the usual way –with Anne retreating to the bedroom in tears, Maggie went hunting for Penn.She opened the door to the studio, soundlessly. “Whatcha got there, my boy?” Penn jumped. He turned to face her, trying to hide the pad behind his back.“Nothing,” he lied. “Come on now. Give it here.” She motioned. He stiffened, but handed over the drawing. She looked at it and at his dirty hands.“Don’t touch your clothes, son. This isn’t half bad.”“It’s a dog. A shaggy dog. Wish I had a dog, Maggie,” the boy blurted out. “And a mighty fine dog it is,” she said, taking his hand.She led him to the bathroom to wash up, then tucked the picture under her arm.“It’s not finished.”“Let’s find a place for it in your room, then.”He nodded. She took him to the playground while Mr. and Mrs. made up in the bedroom. After dinner, she joined John in their rooms.“Boys an artist, like his mum,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse.“Really? That ought to bust up his dad more than baseball.” John hung up his jacket.“He’s good, too. Got talent. Kinda raw, but with a few lessons.”“Don’t even breathe a word of it, Mags.”“I know,” she said, pushing down her skirt. “Mister wouldn’t like it. Gotta be business.”He patted her behind. “Fancy a tussle?”She grinned at him. “Best offer I’ve had today.”“Better be the only offer you’ve had today.” John chuckled.“Think the boy'll be an artist?” She pulled down the covers.“Over his dad’s dead body. Slide down this way, girl.”
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TUESDAY TALES. MAGGIES STORY CONTINUES

The word prompt this week is "old". Thank you for coming. Maggie's story continues:


“Where’s my cap?” A note of irritation surrounded John’s voice.“Where’d you leave it, love?”“Master Penn is playing in half an hour and I don’t have my cap!”Mary frowned, but headed for the study. John had been taking notes on Mr. Roberts’ itinerary for Monday before taking him to the office. Sundays were busy days in real estate, even for multi-millionaires.  Sure enough, there it was hanging on the back of the chair. She plucked it off and returned to the kitchen. “Looking for this?”“Bless you, old girl,” he said, stooping to kiss her. Before she could say a word, John was hustling Penn out of his room. Anne and Maggie slipped on jackets for the slight fall nip in the air. All four bundled into the car and drove uptown to the ball field in Riverside Park. John parked, then he and Penn ran ahead. Maggie smiled at her husband, all puffed up with importance as he stood in for the lad’s father. Penn’s ten-year-old teammates thought John was cool because of his British accent. Anne and Maggie grabbed seats in the bleachers.

Young Penn was a natural. He showed more talent than any other player on the team. Maggie was proud he was the star. But the sentiment wasn’t unanimous. One night she overheard the Roberts’ arguing. “I’m not building this business so that my son can become some stupid baseball player!”
          “But he’s good. Really good. Maybe that’s what he wants to do. The coach is recommending baseball camp this summer.”“Over my dead body! And you’ll stop encouraging him in this idiot little league crap, Anne.”He stomped out of the room, into his study and slammed the door. A soft sob drifted to Maggie’s ears. If he worked hard, the rich boy might make the major leagues someday. But not if his father could help it.A tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. “Psst. Look. A baseball day camp. Here in the city. Mister will never know.”John handed her the brochure. Maggie nodded. After checking that the study door was still shut, she tiptoed into the living room, the brochure in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.“Thought you might like this,” she said, setting the cup on the coffee table. Anne sniffed, wiped her eyes and nose and nodded. “Thank you, Maggie,” she said, her gaze drifting over to the brochure Maggie was waving about. “What’ve you got there?” Maggie handed it to her. Anne read it, then looked up at her servant. “I couldn’t. No. I couldn’t. My husband would have a fit.”“Not if he doesn’t know,” the young woman said, smiling. 

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