Chicki Brown's Blog, page 44
September 15, 2012
Saturday Sneak Peak #7
We're going back to Telluride, Colorado. This was supposed to be the last excerpt, but I've decided to post excerpts through the end of Chapter Three. This chapter opens with Trenyce meeting with her department head at the medical center. Enjoy this excerpt from Ain't Too Proud to Beg!
Chapter Three
D r. Liu’s assistant called to say he was held up in surgery and wanted me to go ahead and introduce myself to Vaughn Breland. I hated to admit it, but the prospect of meeting the handsome actor jangled my nerves. In order to appear cool and professional, I would have to put on my game face and approach him as I would any other patient.
Still amazed at the news of my prospective patient, I sat at my desk and studied Vaughn Breland’s file. His injuries were extensive, but from what I read, it appeared that Dr. Liu had done his usual marvelous job in surgery. A knock on the door interrupted my contemplation.
“Excuse me.”
Oh, my God. This can’t be happening. I recognized the trademark heavy baritone without even looking up. I had just heard it a few nights before. It belonged to Devon Burke.
"Hope you don't mind, but I asked at the nurses' station where your office was. May come in?
I glanced up, smoothed my hair and smiled, conscious to keep it from being too wide. “Of course, Mr. Burke. What can I do for you?”
He entered the small office dressed in a body-hugging black t-shirt and jeans, instantly increasing the ambience one thousand percent, took a few steps toward the desk then paused.
Oh, he’s waiting for me to invite him to sit. Pull yourself together. “Please, have a seat.” I pointed to a chair.
“It’s Devon. We might as well be on a first name basis, since we’ll probably be talking to each other a lot.”
After an unsteady plop into the chair, I managed a smile and folded my hands on top of the blotter to keep them from shaking.
“You haven’t met Vaughn yet, but Dr. Liu told me you’ve been assigned to his case. I need to explain a few things to you, if you have the time right now.
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“He wants to be transferred back to LA., and according to Dr. Liu, that would not only be expensive but could also be disastrous. Could you try to talk some sense into him about coming back to Cali? He has no family there to look after him, but he has an opportunity to stay here in Telluride for as long as it takes to get back on his feet. Will you convince him this is the best route for him to take right now?”
The pleading look in his deep-set dark eyes showed the concern he had for his friend. “I can only stay here for another day, and if I don’t do everything I can to get him straight before I leave, Shontae - my wife is going to kill me.”
“That’s right. You’re married to Shontae Nichols, the author. I’m reading one of her books right now.”
He smiled, and it seemed as if the entire office lit up. “Really? Which one?”
“The latest one, Standing in the Shadows of Love.”
“Wow, what a coincidence. I’ll have to tell her.”
“I’ve read her last three.”
“Really?” The brightness in the office increased again when his smile widened. “She’ll be pleased to hear that.”
“I’d be glad to talk to Mr. Breland, but the decision is up to him. We can’t force him to stay here.”
Devon leaned forward and clasped his hands on the edge of the desk. “Vaughn can be really stubborn, but he’ll usually listen to reason. Today, he’s been hit with more bad news than a brother can handle.”
“How’s that?”
“He woke up to discover that he’d lost his custom-made car, the use of his legs for the immediate future, his latest movie role, and possibly his looks. Normally, V is a pretty positive guy, but this might be more than he can deal with emotionally.”
“That’s awful.” I sighed. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try my best, Mr. Burke.”
“Devon,” he insisted again with that knee-weakening smile.
“Devon, my name is Trenyce. Are you going back to Vaughn’s room?”
“Yes.”
“Just let him know I’ll be back to see him before I go home this evening.”
Devon rose to his impressive height and extended his hand across the desk. “Thanks, Trenyce. Shontae and I really appreciate your help.”
The moment the closed the door, I picked up the phone and dialed Penny at work. “Hi. It’s me. You’ll never believe what happened here today.”
“Ooh, workplace gossip.” Penny whispered. “Come on, spice up my day. What’s going on at TMC?”
“You remember when we watched Monaco Rain a few weeks ago?”
“Sure, that was a great picture, and the eye candy was amazing.” Penny chuckled.
“Well, all that eye candy is here at the medical center.”
“What!” Penny shrieked then went back to her office whisper. “What are you talking about, Tren?”
“You can’t tell this to anybody, do you hear me? Vaughn Breland was admitted after a horrific car accident. Guess who’s been assigned to his case? And Devon Burke is his best friend. He just came into my office to ask me to convince Vaughn to stay in Telluride rather than being transported back to Los Angeles,” I babbled.
“Oh my God! And you were talking about your job being boring. I’d give me right arm to switch places with you right now. What are they like? Besides being drop-dead gorgeous, I mean.”
“I’ll be meeting Mr. Breland in a few minutes.”
“I didn’t hear anything about that accident, and I’m an entertainment television junkie.”
“The press hasn’t gotten word yet, so please don’t be the one to tell them he’s here. I could lose my job.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that. Well, what’s he like?”
“Devon seems to so nice. He flew here from California last night to see about his buddy.”
“And you’re on a first name basis with him already?”
“He told me to call him that, because we’ll most likely be talking to each other a lot.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? That’s like a dream come true.”
“He’s married, Penny, but you know what else is wild?
“There’s more?”
“His wife is Shontae Nichols, the author of the book I’m reading right now.”
“Gee, this is crazy. St. Albert must really like you.”
“Huh?” I’d known Penny for years and still wasn’t able to remember all of the Catholic patron saints my best friend seemed able to call on in an instant.
“He’s the patron saint of medical technicians,” Penny answered, as if everyone should know this fact.
“I don’t even know if he’s going to be my patient yet. Devon said he wants to be transported to a Los Angeles hospital, but Vaughn has no one out there in California to take care of him”
“That’s impossible!,” Penny insisted. “Vaughn Breland is known as a real Hollywood player. I bet there would be women lined up around the block to give him a sponge bath, if they knew about his accident. Heck, I’ll volunteer. Tell him I’m available day or night. Day and night would be even better.”
“You’re nuts. I’d better get off the phone and go to work. Just wanted to tell you that.”
“Thanks, Tren. Make sure you call me if anything exciting happens, and think about how you might be able to sneak me in to see them.”
I had to laugh at that, knowing she was dead serious. “Now I know you’re trying to get me fired. I’ll talk to you later, girl.” Coming this November to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
Chapter Three
D r. Liu’s assistant called to say he was held up in surgery and wanted me to go ahead and introduce myself to Vaughn Breland. I hated to admit it, but the prospect of meeting the handsome actor jangled my nerves. In order to appear cool and professional, I would have to put on my game face and approach him as I would any other patient.
Still amazed at the news of my prospective patient, I sat at my desk and studied Vaughn Breland’s file. His injuries were extensive, but from what I read, it appeared that Dr. Liu had done his usual marvelous job in surgery. A knock on the door interrupted my contemplation.
“Excuse me.”
Oh, my God. This can’t be happening. I recognized the trademark heavy baritone without even looking up. I had just heard it a few nights before. It belonged to Devon Burke.
"Hope you don't mind, but I asked at the nurses' station where your office was. May come in?
I glanced up, smoothed my hair and smiled, conscious to keep it from being too wide. “Of course, Mr. Burke. What can I do for you?”
He entered the small office dressed in a body-hugging black t-shirt and jeans, instantly increasing the ambience one thousand percent, took a few steps toward the desk then paused.
Oh, he’s waiting for me to invite him to sit. Pull yourself together. “Please, have a seat.” I pointed to a chair.
“It’s Devon. We might as well be on a first name basis, since we’ll probably be talking to each other a lot.”
After an unsteady plop into the chair, I managed a smile and folded my hands on top of the blotter to keep them from shaking.
“You haven’t met Vaughn yet, but Dr. Liu told me you’ve been assigned to his case. I need to explain a few things to you, if you have the time right now.
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“He wants to be transferred back to LA., and according to Dr. Liu, that would not only be expensive but could also be disastrous. Could you try to talk some sense into him about coming back to Cali? He has no family there to look after him, but he has an opportunity to stay here in Telluride for as long as it takes to get back on his feet. Will you convince him this is the best route for him to take right now?”
The pleading look in his deep-set dark eyes showed the concern he had for his friend. “I can only stay here for another day, and if I don’t do everything I can to get him straight before I leave, Shontae - my wife is going to kill me.”
“That’s right. You’re married to Shontae Nichols, the author. I’m reading one of her books right now.”
He smiled, and it seemed as if the entire office lit up. “Really? Which one?”
“The latest one, Standing in the Shadows of Love.”
“Wow, what a coincidence. I’ll have to tell her.”
“I’ve read her last three.”
“Really?” The brightness in the office increased again when his smile widened. “She’ll be pleased to hear that.”
“I’d be glad to talk to Mr. Breland, but the decision is up to him. We can’t force him to stay here.”
Devon leaned forward and clasped his hands on the edge of the desk. “Vaughn can be really stubborn, but he’ll usually listen to reason. Today, he’s been hit with more bad news than a brother can handle.”
“How’s that?”
“He woke up to discover that he’d lost his custom-made car, the use of his legs for the immediate future, his latest movie role, and possibly his looks. Normally, V is a pretty positive guy, but this might be more than he can deal with emotionally.”
“That’s awful.” I sighed. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try my best, Mr. Burke.”
“Devon,” he insisted again with that knee-weakening smile.
“Devon, my name is Trenyce. Are you going back to Vaughn’s room?”
“Yes.”
“Just let him know I’ll be back to see him before I go home this evening.”
Devon rose to his impressive height and extended his hand across the desk. “Thanks, Trenyce. Shontae and I really appreciate your help.”
The moment the closed the door, I picked up the phone and dialed Penny at work. “Hi. It’s me. You’ll never believe what happened here today.”
“Ooh, workplace gossip.” Penny whispered. “Come on, spice up my day. What’s going on at TMC?”
“You remember when we watched Monaco Rain a few weeks ago?”
“Sure, that was a great picture, and the eye candy was amazing.” Penny chuckled.
“Well, all that eye candy is here at the medical center.”
“What!” Penny shrieked then went back to her office whisper. “What are you talking about, Tren?”
“You can’t tell this to anybody, do you hear me? Vaughn Breland was admitted after a horrific car accident. Guess who’s been assigned to his case? And Devon Burke is his best friend. He just came into my office to ask me to convince Vaughn to stay in Telluride rather than being transported back to Los Angeles,” I babbled.
“Oh my God! And you were talking about your job being boring. I’d give me right arm to switch places with you right now. What are they like? Besides being drop-dead gorgeous, I mean.”
“I’ll be meeting Mr. Breland in a few minutes.”
“I didn’t hear anything about that accident, and I’m an entertainment television junkie.”
“The press hasn’t gotten word yet, so please don’t be the one to tell them he’s here. I could lose my job.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that. Well, what’s he like?”
“Devon seems to so nice. He flew here from California last night to see about his buddy.”
“And you’re on a first name basis with him already?”
“He told me to call him that, because we’ll most likely be talking to each other a lot.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? That’s like a dream come true.”
“He’s married, Penny, but you know what else is wild?
“There’s more?”
“His wife is Shontae Nichols, the author of the book I’m reading right now.”
“Gee, this is crazy. St. Albert must really like you.”
“Huh?” I’d known Penny for years and still wasn’t able to remember all of the Catholic patron saints my best friend seemed able to call on in an instant.
“He’s the patron saint of medical technicians,” Penny answered, as if everyone should know this fact.
“I don’t even know if he’s going to be my patient yet. Devon said he wants to be transported to a Los Angeles hospital, but Vaughn has no one out there in California to take care of him”
“That’s impossible!,” Penny insisted. “Vaughn Breland is known as a real Hollywood player. I bet there would be women lined up around the block to give him a sponge bath, if they knew about his accident. Heck, I’ll volunteer. Tell him I’m available day or night. Day and night would be even better.”
“You’re nuts. I’d better get off the phone and go to work. Just wanted to tell you that.”
“Thanks, Tren. Make sure you call me if anything exciting happens, and think about how you might be able to sneak me in to see them.”
I had to laugh at that, knowing she was dead serious. “Now I know you’re trying to get me fired. I’ll talk to you later, girl.” Coming this November to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
September 12, 2012
Aspiring authors are our future
This is a special day. For the first time since I started my blog in 2006 (archived posts are still on my web site at www.chicki663.webs.com), I am excited to feature a budding young writer.
Miss Tiana Villalongo is an eleven-year-old honor student who is in the sixth grade. She loves to write and has been writing short stories since she was five. Tiana has a very vivid imagination. When she grows up, Tiana wants to be n author. She wants to go to college to Spelman College and earn a degree in creative writing and acting.
Tiana’s mother told me that like many scribes, she’s had challenges with finishing her creations. I told her if she finished the story, I would post it here.
Back when I was in middle school, my friend Geraldine and I spent our summers sitting under a shade tree putting our fantasies on paper. Unfortunately, as I got older and life got in the way, I stopped writing and didn’t start again until almost four decades later.
Enjoy Tiana’s story, entitled The Monster Under My Bed and leave a comment to leave her a few words of encouragement.The Monster Under My Bedby Tiana Villalongo
Hello, my name is Christal Waters. I live in New York City on the West Side. I am seven years old. I have a two-year old little brother named Chris. My parents always think that names should start with the name Chris. For instance, my daddy told me that when I was first born, my mommy wanted to name me Christine, Chris, or even Chris Ann. My daddy named me, and I think that’s why I have a monster under my bed. Usually mothers name their children not the fathers. Here begins the story of how I got a monster under my bed.
This all happened about a month ago. Even though the night was dark, scary, and stormy, I was in a really good mood because it was my seventh birthday. When I got ready to go to sleep, I heard a thump under my bed. I checked, and nothing was there, so I went to the closet to pick out my clothes for school. As I opened the door, footsteps sounded in the hall. I turned from my closet and opened my bedroom door. Nothing was there either, but I heard whispers from Mommy and Daddy's room, so I tiptoed to the door to see what they were saying. I couldn't make out the words and went back to my closet. Something poked me on my shoulder as I reached for a hanger. To my shock, I whirled around and there stood an eight-foot tall, green, slimy monster.
“Aahh! Help me!” I screeched.
The monster disappeared suddenly when my parents ran into the room and Chris started crying.
“Honey, you stay here with Christal, and I'll be back with Chris.” Mom said.
“What happened?” daddy asked.
“Th-the,” I stammered.
Mom came into the room holding Chris and asked again “What happened?” “There was a monster in my room!” I said, knowing they wouldn't believe me. “Oh no.” mommy mumbled under her breath. Daddy just nodded his head in astonishment. I didn't know what they were talking about.
“What's the oh-oh? Does Chris need a trip to the potty?” I asked.
“Well,” Mommy started. “We never wanted to tell you this, but when you were born your father and I were in Vegas. There were no nurses close by the hotel and…” Mommy paused and looked around the room. She always does that when she's nervous. “And you were delivered buy a fortuneteller,” Daddy said, finishing the sentence. “When you were delivered,” mommy continued. “The fortune teller told us that something bad was going to happen to you. She said the first child is always the worst, and the second child is always the best.”
“What? So you mean to tell me I'm going to have bad luck forever?” I asked my parents.
“Only until your fourteen years old or until you stop believing in the boogie man,” they said at the same time.
Now I know this sounds weird, and it isn't something you expect to hear from a seven-year-old, but this really happened to me. “But I don't believe in the boogie man!” I lied. They said nothing, and I could tell from their expressions that they saw right through it.
“You can sleep in Chris' room, ” Daddy said.
“But Chris sleeps with you guys, and I can't do that. I don't know how long you've been out of school, but that's considered lame, Daddy.”
“Well, you could always stay here with the monster.”
I couldn't say no again because that hideous thing could come back for me. “Okay, fine. I'll sleep with you,” I mumbled under my breath.
We turned off my lights, went into their room and all climbed into the bed. Mommy was on the left side closest to the nightstand. Daddy was on the other side closest to the window, and Chris was in between them. I took the end of the bed in place of our doggy, which had found a spot on the floor next to Mommy's side. That night I slept like a baby even with Daddy's long crusty feet in my face and his toenails poking me every five minutes.
The next morning, I got up brushed my teeth, took a shower, and went to eat breakfast. On my way down stairs, I heard crying behind me, but I knew that couldn't be possible, because Chris was already downstairs in his highchair. Mom had just placed a plate of steamy hot bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the table for me. I ate my breakfast then grabbed my backpack and said bye to Mommy and Chris before Daddy and I left the house.
While I was at school something bad happened. I found out at lunchtime that I was allergic to spaghetti, because I spent the rest of the day throwing up in the bathroom. Once I got home and into my bed, I was dozing off and heard a thump come from my closet. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but a couple of seconds later I heard a blood-chilling scream. My closet door burst open, and that hideous monster from the night before jumped out. He stared at me until my baby brother Chris came into the room. I tried over and over again to stand up, but I was too weak. Eventually I gave up.
“Mama. Mama. Mama!” he called out then started to cry.
“Yes, Chris?” I answered weakly and tried one last time with all my strength to get up. Dizzy, I made it to my feet, took Chris by the hand but he was so scared, he couldn’t move. I had no choice but to leave him and run to Mommy and Daddy's room and pounded on the door. Nobody was there. Where were they? I frantically checked the whole house. Chris and I were all alone. On my way upstairs, I heard Chris scream. A burst of energy carried me upstairs just as Chris opened the closet door. Everything turned white.
“Stay away from him!” I shouted.
Chris ran into my arms and nearly knocked me down the stairs. I shoved him behind me as the monster stepped all the way out of the closet.
“I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you, but I have to,” the monster said.
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't always a monster. I used to be a regular guy named Al Parker. It all happened when I met that witch of a fortuneteller in Vegas. I've always wanted to be a genie and her flier had said, “I can make all your wildest dreams come true.” I went to see her after she delivered a baby. She had a detailed contract that stated in the fine print that after she made my first three wishes come true, I had to give the baby she’d delivered a lifetime of bad luck. Of course, I didn’t read the fine print at the time.” He started to cry.
No longer afraid, I went over to console him. Chris had fallen asleep on my bed, and I wondered how he had gotten there.
“After I signed the contract,” Al went on. “She warned me if I told anyone then I would be a monstrous genie forever.” He cried even harder.
“Wait you just told me the story, which means you’re going to be a genie forever.” I stated. Magically, a lamp appeared and sucked Al inside. When I was little, I remember hearing an old fairy tale say if you rubbed a lamp like this, the genie would appear. I picked it up, rubbed it, and Al came out dressed in a genie outfit. “We both know how this works. I get three wishes, so let's get to it, Al.” I said.
He looked confused but said, “State your three wishes, Christal.”
“First, I wish you were free from being a genie. Second, I wish you were human again. Third, I wish we both could forget about bad luck, the witch, and that my family would appear again.”
All my wishes were granted, but nothing was ever the same again.
Well, that's my story.
September 10, 2012
Author Spotlight
The author spotlight is shining on debut author James Fant.
I met James online, and I was so excited to hear about his new release and wanted to feature it here, because I love romances written by men. To give you a little insight into who he is, here's a brief bio:
James is a native of Greenville, South Carolina and currently resides in the South Carolina Low country. He has always possessed a passion for learning and reading, which prompted his undergraduate study in the field of Biology, and later a Master’s in Business Administration. While he is successful in his vocational endeavors and in his desire to meet the needs of others, he has a greater calling to meet the needs of others through print.
His passion for reading has led him to read books from a variety of authors. However, he saw that he needed to address relationship issues and attempt to mend broken bonds with clean language. This set the stage for his first novel An Ode for Orchids . James plans to publish many works that will encourage his readers to analyze and repair their personal relationships. He is a family man with a wife and two children who he dedicated his first publication to and continues to work with them in mind.
Here's a blurb and a short excerpt from An Ode for Orchids:
Blurb:
Geneva Cole was well known for growing orchids, but her most prized orchids weren’t really flowers at all, at least not in the literal sense. Her most prized orchids were her four grand-daughters: Karen, Cicely, and twin sisters Brook and Dawn. And her main goal was to prepare them for life’s challenges.
Brook eventually opens several barbershops/hair salons with her husband Walter; however, she battles with him over their long distance marriage and alleged infidelity. Dawn has a daughter by a drug trafficker named Cory Mack. But she must constantly battle another woman for his affection. The extremely promiscuous Cicely has everything a girl could want: wealth, intelligence, and beauty. Yet for all of her treasures, she ends up lacking in other areas that are most important to her. Finally, Karen battles severe anxiety attacks, loses boyfriend after boyfriend because of her pledge of virginity and has to deal with the intense hatred that Cicely has for her.
An Ode for Orchids is a story about four young women and the challenges that they face, such as making bad choices in men, dealing with infidelity, struggling with promiscuity, and dealing with rejection. But perhaps the most daunting challenge is dealing with the animosity that one woman can have for another woman. Time will reveal whether or not each of them will be strong enough to face the challenges that life will offer them.
Excerpt:
Brook entered the shop very early on a Tuesday morning. Miss Mattie was the only person there, as she normally opened the shop.
“You’re here early, boss.”
Brook didn’t respond. She only dropped her bag on the black and white tile floor and plopped herself into the chair next to Miss Mattie’s.
“Well, how was your weekend?”
Brook remained silent. Her eyes were swollen from crying. The skin on her face was so tight that her cheek bones protruded. Her hair was tied into a pony-tail, barely combed down. She looked like a zombie to Miss Mattie who was determined to get her to say something.
“How much more weight are you going to lose? You’re going to fly away soon. You and Dawn don’t even look alike anymore.”
“He’s cheating on me.”
“What?”
Miss Mattie pulled her comb off of her counter, walked over to Brook, took her pony-tail out and began to comb through her hair.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me. That low life is cheating on me. And I am a fool for not seeing it.”
“How do you know that Walter is cheating? Did you catch him or something?”
Brook began gazing at her wedding ring, playing with it. She wiggled her finger so that the light could hit the diamond and make it sparkle. Then with a sob, she covered it up.
“I don’t feel like a married woman. I don’t live with my husband. I don’t go to bed with my husband every night and I don’t wake up beside him every morning. He used to come up one weekend a month but now even that’s stopped. You can’t be too busy to be a husband.”
Miss Mattie let the comb slowly work out the kinks in Brook’s jet black hair. She said nothing. Instead she listened as Brook began pouring her heart out to her.
“I was tired of it all. I was tired of not having my man with me. I was tired of living alone. I was tired of the rumors that I was hearing.”
Brook’s voice began to crack. She fought the tears away, beginning to be relaxed by Miss Mattie’s soft, motherly touch.
“What rumors?” she asked.
Brook looked at Miss Mattie through the mirror. Her look said it all. If she had not said another word, Miss Mattie knew exactly where her head was. Brook sensed that her eyes were being read by her mother figure. So she closed them tight. She felt that Walter was being unfaithful. That was all Miss Mattie needed to know.
“Brook, do you know who it is?”
Brook’s eyes remained closed. She remained silent.
“Okay. Do you think it’s another woman?”
All Miss Mattie saw was Brook’s eye lids.
“Do you think it’s a man?”
Brook’s eyes popped open. ###
The books is available on Kindle - amzn.to/PW5XqJ Nook - http://bit.ly/Q0M2az and Smashwords - http://bit.ly/Tao0P7
Smashwords (for iPad & iB
You can contact James here: Website: http://www.jamesfantbooks.com/ Blog: http://www.jamesfantbooks.wordpress.com/
I met James online, and I was so excited to hear about his new release and wanted to feature it here, because I love romances written by men. To give you a little insight into who he is, here's a brief bio:
James is a native of Greenville, South Carolina and currently resides in the South Carolina Low country. He has always possessed a passion for learning and reading, which prompted his undergraduate study in the field of Biology, and later a Master’s in Business Administration. While he is successful in his vocational endeavors and in his desire to meet the needs of others, he has a greater calling to meet the needs of others through print.
His passion for reading has led him to read books from a variety of authors. However, he saw that he needed to address relationship issues and attempt to mend broken bonds with clean language. This set the stage for his first novel An Ode for Orchids . James plans to publish many works that will encourage his readers to analyze and repair their personal relationships. He is a family man with a wife and two children who he dedicated his first publication to and continues to work with them in mind.
Here's a blurb and a short excerpt from An Ode for Orchids:Blurb:
Geneva Cole was well known for growing orchids, but her most prized orchids weren’t really flowers at all, at least not in the literal sense. Her most prized orchids were her four grand-daughters: Karen, Cicely, and twin sisters Brook and Dawn. And her main goal was to prepare them for life’s challenges.
Brook eventually opens several barbershops/hair salons with her husband Walter; however, she battles with him over their long distance marriage and alleged infidelity. Dawn has a daughter by a drug trafficker named Cory Mack. But she must constantly battle another woman for his affection. The extremely promiscuous Cicely has everything a girl could want: wealth, intelligence, and beauty. Yet for all of her treasures, she ends up lacking in other areas that are most important to her. Finally, Karen battles severe anxiety attacks, loses boyfriend after boyfriend because of her pledge of virginity and has to deal with the intense hatred that Cicely has for her.
An Ode for Orchids is a story about four young women and the challenges that they face, such as making bad choices in men, dealing with infidelity, struggling with promiscuity, and dealing with rejection. But perhaps the most daunting challenge is dealing with the animosity that one woman can have for another woman. Time will reveal whether or not each of them will be strong enough to face the challenges that life will offer them.
Excerpt:
Brook entered the shop very early on a Tuesday morning. Miss Mattie was the only person there, as she normally opened the shop.
“You’re here early, boss.”
Brook didn’t respond. She only dropped her bag on the black and white tile floor and plopped herself into the chair next to Miss Mattie’s.
“Well, how was your weekend?”
Brook remained silent. Her eyes were swollen from crying. The skin on her face was so tight that her cheek bones protruded. Her hair was tied into a pony-tail, barely combed down. She looked like a zombie to Miss Mattie who was determined to get her to say something.
“How much more weight are you going to lose? You’re going to fly away soon. You and Dawn don’t even look alike anymore.”
“He’s cheating on me.”
“What?”
Miss Mattie pulled her comb off of her counter, walked over to Brook, took her pony-tail out and began to comb through her hair.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me. That low life is cheating on me. And I am a fool for not seeing it.”
“How do you know that Walter is cheating? Did you catch him or something?”
Brook began gazing at her wedding ring, playing with it. She wiggled her finger so that the light could hit the diamond and make it sparkle. Then with a sob, she covered it up.
“I don’t feel like a married woman. I don’t live with my husband. I don’t go to bed with my husband every night and I don’t wake up beside him every morning. He used to come up one weekend a month but now even that’s stopped. You can’t be too busy to be a husband.”
Miss Mattie let the comb slowly work out the kinks in Brook’s jet black hair. She said nothing. Instead she listened as Brook began pouring her heart out to her.
“I was tired of it all. I was tired of not having my man with me. I was tired of living alone. I was tired of the rumors that I was hearing.”
Brook’s voice began to crack. She fought the tears away, beginning to be relaxed by Miss Mattie’s soft, motherly touch.
“What rumors?” she asked.
Brook looked at Miss Mattie through the mirror. Her look said it all. If she had not said another word, Miss Mattie knew exactly where her head was. Brook sensed that her eyes were being read by her mother figure. So she closed them tight. She felt that Walter was being unfaithful. That was all Miss Mattie needed to know.
“Brook, do you know who it is?”
Brook’s eyes remained closed. She remained silent.
“Okay. Do you think it’s another woman?”
All Miss Mattie saw was Brook’s eye lids.
“Do you think it’s a man?”
Brook’s eyes popped open. ###
The books is available on Kindle - amzn.to/PW5XqJ Nook - http://bit.ly/Q0M2az and Smashwords - http://bit.ly/Tao0P7
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You can contact James here: Website: http://www.jamesfantbooks.com/ Blog: http://www.jamesfantbooks.wordpress.com/
September 8, 2012
Saturday Sneak Peek #6
Here's the next unedited excerpt from Ain't Too Proud to Beg. Today we continue with Devon's visit to the hospital to see his best friend.
©©©
Before I returned to the waiting room, I paid a visit to the hospital security chief to talk to him about possible visits from the paparazzi. He listened, but appeared to not take my warning very seriously when he said he didn’t think anything would happen. I had to remember that this was Telluride not Hollywood and reminded him if they paid for shots of Whitney in her casket, they would do anything. I ended our slightly antagonistic chat by information him that for the time being, V wouldn’t have any visitors other than myself, my wife, Craig Weinstein and possibly his manager.
Once I returned to the waiting room, I debated with myself on whether or not I should try to talk to Vaughn. The news my buddy had just received would’ve been devastating to anyone. It meant his career could very well be over. If I were in his shoes what would I want? Probably to be left alone, just like Vaughn had asked. Powerlessness to help him was possibly the worst emotion I’d ever felt, other than when I’d witnessed my former girlfriend’s suicide. I leaned forward and covered my face with my hands.
“Excuse me, Mr. Burke, are you all right?” When I opened my eyes, a woman dressed in hospital attire was standing in front of me. “Is there anything I can get you?”
The other people seated in the room were all staring at me. Being easily recognizable was a simultaneous blessing and curse. People somehow expected you to respond differently to the vicissitudes of life, especially if you were known from portraying heroic characters. They could never accept Dwayne Johnson whining because he was tired. Or Denzel Washington cursing someone out that didn’t meet his expectations. The public expected a hero image at all times, so I called on my training and summoned a smile. “My buddy needed some time alone. I’ll be going back in when he feels up to having company.”
“That’s understandable. He’s had a traumatic accident. He needs time to process.” She stepped closer, leaned down and whispered. “We have a private waiting room at the other end of the floor. You might be more comfortable there.”
The others seated around me watched as I met her speculative gaze. “I would, thank you. There are some phone calls I need to make.”
We exited the room, and she flashed a beaming smile toward her associates when we passed the nurse’s station. I kept my gaze focused straight ahead until the gawking staff was behind us.
“Mr. Breland is in excellent hands. Dr. Liu is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the country.”
“That’s good to hear. He seems to think Vaughn will make a full recovery.”
“Here we are.” She opened the door to the empty private room. After she left, I called Shontae with an update. In the middle of the call, Craig Weinsten entered the room.
“Baby, I’ll call you back. Craig is here.”
We shook hands. “How’s he doing?” Craig asked.
“Physically, okay. Mentally, not so good. He’s looking at seven weeks in traction before he can even start physical therapy. He wants to come back to LA, but…” I shook my head. “You’ll see. Come on. His room is at the end of the hall.”
***
Devon poked his head in the door. “V, Craig is here to see you. Are you up to it, man?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, thinking I had probably blown my chance at the opportunity of a lifetime. The invitation to invest in an upstart movie studio with several other Hollywood stars had been hand delivered with the understanding that complete secrecy was expected.
Craig followed Devon into the room
“Guess I missed the meeting.” I tried to smile, but my face felt like it had shrunken two sizes and the effort sent a shooting pain across my cheek.
The thin, bespectacled man removed his trademark baseball cap and smiled. “Yeah, but you’re still considered a potential investor. When you’re feeling better, I’ll bring you up to speed on what went took place.”
“Thanks.”
“The doctor said the EMS guys found my address in the car and called me right after the accident happened,” Craig said while his gaze ran back and forth from my face to my elevated leg. “I came to the hospital right away, but since you were in surgery, there wasn’t any reason for me to stay. I called me Devon at home as soon as I heard.”
“Listen, Dev. Can you…” My words came slower than my mind conceived them. “Find out about AJ.”
The answer was clear by the expression of disbelief Craig shared with Devon. “EMS had to extricate you from the vehicle. I’m sorry, Vaughn.”
Devon didn’t answer right away and simply shook his head. “V, from what I heard, there wasn’t anything left to salvage. She was totaled. Don’t worry about it. You were insured. Weren’t you?”
“Of course, but … she was unique. I loved her, man.”
“I know, but you’re not talking about a woman here. Your ride can be replaced. I’ll check into it, but don’t worry about that now. You have more important things to think about. In the meantime, have you had a chance to think about what you’re going to do next?”
My gaze rested on Craig’s face and then Devon’s. “The first thing I need to do is get back to LA. No offense, Craig. But this isn’t exactly the kind of place a black man wants get stranded.”
“Now, what in the world do you mean?” Craig asked feigning an innocent expression.
I managed a small smile. “You know what I mean. At least if I get back to LA, I can take care of business while I recuperate,”
Devon barked a deep laugh. “V, I don’t think you’re going to be taking care of any business any time soon.”
“Not that kind of business. I’m talking about work.”
Craig spoke gently, “I hate to say this, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be doing much of that either. I took the liberty of contacting your studio and let them know what happened. I knew you didn’t want them to think you’d gone AWOL on them. They’re sending someone out here in a few days. I also spoke with your doctor this morning. According to him, you have nearly two months in this rig,” he waved toward the equipment stabilizing my leg. “Then there’ll be close to a year of physical therapy. Do you have anyone that can help with your care?”
None that would be willing to help me without getting a regular paycheck. “Not really. Why?”
Craig moved closer to the bed. “Because I want you to consider staying at my house. There’s more than enough space, and you could be moved there without much trouble.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It took me a long moment to respond. “Stay at your house? Didn’t I hear that Sabrina Fairchild lives with you now?”
“Yes, she and her daughter, Harlowe, and my sister.” Craig chuckled. “I’m in a house full of women. A little additional testosterone around that place wouldn’t hurt, and it would give the chef something to do when Bri isn’t there. I forgot you’ve never seen the house. You could be there for months without ever running into them, unless you wanted to.” I didn’t respond, so Craig continued. “I asked Dr. Liu about transferring you back to Cali, and he didn’t think it was wise. He said it could be dangerous and quite expensive. Since I feel kind of responsible for you being in this condition to begin with, I’d like to help.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault, man.”
“I had no idea you were driving here, and it didn’t occur to me to warn you and the others, especially since the Weather Service had predicted snow. I’m used to living up here and driving on mountain roads, but it was irresponsible of me not to remind everyone that this is four-wheel drive country. Even the ones that flew still had to rent cars at the airport and drive to my house.” Craig laughed again. “But I didn’t tell you to drive up here in that land jet, though.”
“V’s right,” Devon added, knowing Craig’s generous nature. “There’s no reason for you to feel liable for the accident. We all know how this fool drives.”
Craig Weinstein had a reputation for being one of the most generous people in Hollywood. He’d been known to use his private jet to carry emergency supplies to victims of national disasters and had even loaned it to a star’s family to fly his body home after his untimely death. His name was associated with major charities in this US and abroad. He and I had met several years ago on the set of Craig’s directorial debut, which also happened to be my first movie. Anxious to please, I’d gone out of his way to be a director’s dream actor. We hit it off and been friends ever since.
“Give it serious thought, Vaughn. It wouldn’t be an imposition. If you arrange for a private nurse, I can even hook you up with the physical therapist that worked with my brother when he had the run-in with that tree up on Coxcomb. TC was amazing. That jerk broke bones he didn’t even know he had, but with TC’s help, he doesn’t even have a limp.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t know–”
“The choice is yours, of course. Still, it makes more sense for your health and your budget to stay here for a while. I’ll let you mull it over for a few days.” He stood and clasped my hand.
“I’d better get back to the house. I have a conference call scheduled.”
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Devon volunteered then the two of them left the room.
Tired from our short conversation, I closed his eyes and considered Craig’s generous offer, but I couldn’t see myself living in someone else’s house for months. I needed my own space. Besides, there was a kid in the house, and I’d never shared my space with any children. They were noisy, messy and generally annoying.
Not long after Devon returned, the door opened and another doctor entered. He introduced himself as the head of plastic surgery. “Mr. Breland, I want to talk to you about your facial lacerations, but I see you have a visitor.”
“You can say whatever you need to in front of him. I eyed him warily. “Go ahead.”
“All right. In view of your profession, I know your appearance is important to you,” the doctor said slowly, as if he were weighing his words. “I’m not going to hedge here. Your face sustained severe damage from the impact of the steering wheel and from the windshield. Your cheekbone is shattered, and surgery is imperative, possibly a series of surgeries, but I am confident your face can be restored to its prior condition.”
The horror of what I heard left me speechless. I was no fool. My acting skills weren’t what had gotten me to where I was in Hollywood. My looks were my meal ticket, and I knew it. Without them, I’d have no work and no female companionship – the only two things that made my life worth living. The news about my legs had almost taken me under, but this was more than I could stand. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I…need to…be alone.”
Devon left the room again followed by the doctor.
What am I going to do now? My career might be over. These surgeries will cost me a fortune, even with the insurance. I turned my face into the pillow and must have eventually succumbed to the effects of the latest infusion of morphine.
Coming in late November to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
©©©
Before I returned to the waiting room, I paid a visit to the hospital security chief to talk to him about possible visits from the paparazzi. He listened, but appeared to not take my warning very seriously when he said he didn’t think anything would happen. I had to remember that this was Telluride not Hollywood and reminded him if they paid for shots of Whitney in her casket, they would do anything. I ended our slightly antagonistic chat by information him that for the time being, V wouldn’t have any visitors other than myself, my wife, Craig Weinstein and possibly his manager.
Once I returned to the waiting room, I debated with myself on whether or not I should try to talk to Vaughn. The news my buddy had just received would’ve been devastating to anyone. It meant his career could very well be over. If I were in his shoes what would I want? Probably to be left alone, just like Vaughn had asked. Powerlessness to help him was possibly the worst emotion I’d ever felt, other than when I’d witnessed my former girlfriend’s suicide. I leaned forward and covered my face with my hands.
“Excuse me, Mr. Burke, are you all right?” When I opened my eyes, a woman dressed in hospital attire was standing in front of me. “Is there anything I can get you?”
The other people seated in the room were all staring at me. Being easily recognizable was a simultaneous blessing and curse. People somehow expected you to respond differently to the vicissitudes of life, especially if you were known from portraying heroic characters. They could never accept Dwayne Johnson whining because he was tired. Or Denzel Washington cursing someone out that didn’t meet his expectations. The public expected a hero image at all times, so I called on my training and summoned a smile. “My buddy needed some time alone. I’ll be going back in when he feels up to having company.”
“That’s understandable. He’s had a traumatic accident. He needs time to process.” She stepped closer, leaned down and whispered. “We have a private waiting room at the other end of the floor. You might be more comfortable there.”
The others seated around me watched as I met her speculative gaze. “I would, thank you. There are some phone calls I need to make.”
We exited the room, and she flashed a beaming smile toward her associates when we passed the nurse’s station. I kept my gaze focused straight ahead until the gawking staff was behind us.
“Mr. Breland is in excellent hands. Dr. Liu is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the country.”
“That’s good to hear. He seems to think Vaughn will make a full recovery.”
“Here we are.” She opened the door to the empty private room. After she left, I called Shontae with an update. In the middle of the call, Craig Weinsten entered the room.
“Baby, I’ll call you back. Craig is here.”
We shook hands. “How’s he doing?” Craig asked.
“Physically, okay. Mentally, not so good. He’s looking at seven weeks in traction before he can even start physical therapy. He wants to come back to LA, but…” I shook my head. “You’ll see. Come on. His room is at the end of the hall.”
***
Devon poked his head in the door. “V, Craig is here to see you. Are you up to it, man?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, thinking I had probably blown my chance at the opportunity of a lifetime. The invitation to invest in an upstart movie studio with several other Hollywood stars had been hand delivered with the understanding that complete secrecy was expected.
Craig followed Devon into the room
“Guess I missed the meeting.” I tried to smile, but my face felt like it had shrunken two sizes and the effort sent a shooting pain across my cheek.
The thin, bespectacled man removed his trademark baseball cap and smiled. “Yeah, but you’re still considered a potential investor. When you’re feeling better, I’ll bring you up to speed on what went took place.”
“Thanks.”
“The doctor said the EMS guys found my address in the car and called me right after the accident happened,” Craig said while his gaze ran back and forth from my face to my elevated leg. “I came to the hospital right away, but since you were in surgery, there wasn’t any reason for me to stay. I called me Devon at home as soon as I heard.”
“Listen, Dev. Can you…” My words came slower than my mind conceived them. “Find out about AJ.”
The answer was clear by the expression of disbelief Craig shared with Devon. “EMS had to extricate you from the vehicle. I’m sorry, Vaughn.”Devon didn’t answer right away and simply shook his head. “V, from what I heard, there wasn’t anything left to salvage. She was totaled. Don’t worry about it. You were insured. Weren’t you?”
“Of course, but … she was unique. I loved her, man.”
“I know, but you’re not talking about a woman here. Your ride can be replaced. I’ll check into it, but don’t worry about that now. You have more important things to think about. In the meantime, have you had a chance to think about what you’re going to do next?”
My gaze rested on Craig’s face and then Devon’s. “The first thing I need to do is get back to LA. No offense, Craig. But this isn’t exactly the kind of place a black man wants get stranded.”
“Now, what in the world do you mean?” Craig asked feigning an innocent expression.
I managed a small smile. “You know what I mean. At least if I get back to LA, I can take care of business while I recuperate,”
Devon barked a deep laugh. “V, I don’t think you’re going to be taking care of any business any time soon.”
“Not that kind of business. I’m talking about work.”
Craig spoke gently, “I hate to say this, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be doing much of that either. I took the liberty of contacting your studio and let them know what happened. I knew you didn’t want them to think you’d gone AWOL on them. They’re sending someone out here in a few days. I also spoke with your doctor this morning. According to him, you have nearly two months in this rig,” he waved toward the equipment stabilizing my leg. “Then there’ll be close to a year of physical therapy. Do you have anyone that can help with your care?”
None that would be willing to help me without getting a regular paycheck. “Not really. Why?”
Craig moved closer to the bed. “Because I want you to consider staying at my house. There’s more than enough space, and you could be moved there without much trouble.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It took me a long moment to respond. “Stay at your house? Didn’t I hear that Sabrina Fairchild lives with you now?”
“Yes, she and her daughter, Harlowe, and my sister.” Craig chuckled. “I’m in a house full of women. A little additional testosterone around that place wouldn’t hurt, and it would give the chef something to do when Bri isn’t there. I forgot you’ve never seen the house. You could be there for months without ever running into them, unless you wanted to.” I didn’t respond, so Craig continued. “I asked Dr. Liu about transferring you back to Cali, and he didn’t think it was wise. He said it could be dangerous and quite expensive. Since I feel kind of responsible for you being in this condition to begin with, I’d like to help.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault, man.”
“I had no idea you were driving here, and it didn’t occur to me to warn you and the others, especially since the Weather Service had predicted snow. I’m used to living up here and driving on mountain roads, but it was irresponsible of me not to remind everyone that this is four-wheel drive country. Even the ones that flew still had to rent cars at the airport and drive to my house.” Craig laughed again. “But I didn’t tell you to drive up here in that land jet, though.”
“V’s right,” Devon added, knowing Craig’s generous nature. “There’s no reason for you to feel liable for the accident. We all know how this fool drives.”
Craig Weinstein had a reputation for being one of the most generous people in Hollywood. He’d been known to use his private jet to carry emergency supplies to victims of national disasters and had even loaned it to a star’s family to fly his body home after his untimely death. His name was associated with major charities in this US and abroad. He and I had met several years ago on the set of Craig’s directorial debut, which also happened to be my first movie. Anxious to please, I’d gone out of his way to be a director’s dream actor. We hit it off and been friends ever since.
“Give it serious thought, Vaughn. It wouldn’t be an imposition. If you arrange for a private nurse, I can even hook you up with the physical therapist that worked with my brother when he had the run-in with that tree up on Coxcomb. TC was amazing. That jerk broke bones he didn’t even know he had, but with TC’s help, he doesn’t even have a limp.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t know–”
“The choice is yours, of course. Still, it makes more sense for your health and your budget to stay here for a while. I’ll let you mull it over for a few days.” He stood and clasped my hand.
“I’d better get back to the house. I have a conference call scheduled.”
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Devon volunteered then the two of them left the room.
Tired from our short conversation, I closed his eyes and considered Craig’s generous offer, but I couldn’t see myself living in someone else’s house for months. I needed my own space. Besides, there was a kid in the house, and I’d never shared my space with any children. They were noisy, messy and generally annoying.
Not long after Devon returned, the door opened and another doctor entered. He introduced himself as the head of plastic surgery. “Mr. Breland, I want to talk to you about your facial lacerations, but I see you have a visitor.”
“You can say whatever you need to in front of him. I eyed him warily. “Go ahead.”
“All right. In view of your profession, I know your appearance is important to you,” the doctor said slowly, as if he were weighing his words. “I’m not going to hedge here. Your face sustained severe damage from the impact of the steering wheel and from the windshield. Your cheekbone is shattered, and surgery is imperative, possibly a series of surgeries, but I am confident your face can be restored to its prior condition.”
The horror of what I heard left me speechless. I was no fool. My acting skills weren’t what had gotten me to where I was in Hollywood. My looks were my meal ticket, and I knew it. Without them, I’d have no work and no female companionship – the only two things that made my life worth living. The news about my legs had almost taken me under, but this was more than I could stand. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I…need to…be alone.”Devon left the room again followed by the doctor.
What am I going to do now? My career might be over. These surgeries will cost me a fortune, even with the insurance. I turned my face into the pillow and must have eventually succumbed to the effects of the latest infusion of morphine.
Coming in late November to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
September 2, 2012
Sunday Sneak Peek #5
Yesterday got away from me, and I forgot to post the next sneak peek into Ain't Too Proud to Beg. Please remember these excerpts are unedited and the entire manuscript won't go to my editor until it's completed.
Last Saturday you met the protagonist, Trenyce Clark. This peek gives some insight into her life and how she meets Vaughn Breland. Enjoy!
*** I ran into the center, apologizing profusely for my lateness and paid the late fee. Paying consistent late fees was the only way I could do anything after work.
“Mommy!” Zahra called to me from the doorway of the aftercare room.
“Hi, sweetie pie.” I lifted her into one arm and took her coat from the teacher with the other. “Sorry I took so long. I had to meet Aunt Penny.”
“She in the car?” Zahra’s big hazel eyes looked toward the entrance with anticipation.
“No, she had to go home, but she said she’ll see you on Thursday at the gym.”
“Yay!” She clapped her hands and bounced in her safety seat. “I like the gym. They have toys.”
After I put Zahra into her coat and snapped the hood snugly under her chin, I wiggled Zahra’s little fingers into her gloves and she thanked the teacher then headed back out into the cold with my daughter on one hip.
In spite of the fact that I’d been in Colorado for eight years now, I still hadn’t acclimated to the weather. Being an Atlanta native, I grew up wearing shorts in April and little more than a cardigan sweater at Thanksgiving.
Zahra clapped and squealed in delight when I pulled up in front of The Sweet Life, her favorite restaurant.
“I want a hamburger, Mommy,” she requested from the back seat.
“Okay, but no French fries, sweetie. You can have soup instead and some milk. No soda.”
“Awww. I like French fries.” She poked out her lips.
“I know you do, but they’re not good for you,” I told her reflection in the rear view mirror. “Fries only on the weekend, remember?”
“O-kay.”
We went inside, I picked up the order I’d called in earlier then drove the short distance home. Parked in my assigned space, I unloaded my briefcase, Zahra’s backpack and the bags with our dinner then carefully maneuvered around the car on the icy parking lot pavement to the rear passenger door.
“After we eat, it’s bath time, little girl.”
“Can I have bubbles?”
“Of course, you can.” I unbuckled the harness of her safety seat. “If you eat all your dinner, that is.”
“I’ll eat it all up!”
Nothing gave me more joy than making Zahra happy, but I always struggled to rein in the temptation to give her everything she wanted. Nothing was worse than an over-indulged child. I’d seen enough of them causing a commotion in local restaurants and movie theaters. My daughter would not be one of those little monsters with “no home training,” to quote one of my mother’s favorite phrases.
With the briefcase and Zahra’s backpack hooked on one shoulder, I clutched the paper bags close to my chest and held my daughter’s hand in a tight grip. “Walk slowly, punkin. It’s slippery out here.” Whenever we went out, there was always something to carry. It had taken me the better part of Zahra’s first year to master doing everything with one arm while transporting a baby in the other. Now I was an expert.
After I washed my hands and cleaned Zahra’s with a wet wipe, I transferred our dinner onto plates. It was bad enough that we ended up eating fast food at least twice a week. They didn’t have to eat on pieces of paper. My parents had raised their children to eat meals on real dishes seated together at the table instead of from paper bags or Styrofoam trays, and I was determined to raise my daughter the same way. Some semblance of civility in our lives was a necessity. Just because I was a single mom didn’t mean we had to live like nomads.
As soon as Zahra finished eating, I gave her the promised bubble bath, read a story, listened while she said her nightly prayers and tucked her in. I glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove and shook my head. Seven twenty-five, and I still had to put together her clothes for the next day and check her backpack for any notices from the school. By then if I got to watch an hour of television to unwind before I crashed, it would be a miracle. Such was our nightly routine. If I had my own practice, I could set my own hours, pick her up early and be able to have a few hours to relax. That prospect looked light years away though.
I searched through Zahra’s chest of drawers for a matching shirt and pants and silently reprimanded myself for my discontentment. After all, there was always plenty of work in Telluride. And even though the black population was less than one percent, I’d made some good friends there, but often I missed the unique fellowship black women had among ourselves. Don’t even mention the lack of eligible black men. They didn’t exist in Telluride.
After the fiasco with Zahra’s father, I wasn’t going to date another white man. Deep down I knew it was wrong to condemn an entire race because of one man, but his desertion had left a gaping hole in my heart. A guy at the gym had been flirting with me for a few weeks, but he reminded me too much of Brad.
Penny kept telling me to stop brushing him off and at least go out on one date with him, but I just wasn’t interested. Hope he wouldn’t be at spin class. For once I just wanted to work out without having to deal with his furtive glances.
The next man in my life would look like my dad – a tall, handsome, brown-skinned brother. Yeah, right. Finding one of them in this town was as probable as a Telluride heat wave. The only way I would run across my chocolate Prince Charming would be to move to a bigger city like Denver. But with a black population of only five percent, the prospects there were only slightly better. New York or Los Angeles was more appealing, and both cities had a teeming nightlife, arts and culture, something else I missed.
Stop dreaming, girl. You’ve been here since college. This is your home. Quit griping and just be happy. Telluride is a clean, beautiful place with good schools and an above-average standard of living. Besides, you have nice friends here. The homes were well kept and the mountains protected the little city in their bowl. There were no traffic lights, strip malls, box stores or massive parking lots. What better place to raise a child?
On the other hand, Zahra was missing out on her own culture. There was no King celebration in January, no Juneteenth parades, no black fine arts festivals during the summer, no HBCU marching band competitions all of the things I’d enjoyed growing up in Atlanta.
Zahra had become adept at dressing herself, a major timesaver in the morning, so I took a pair of panties and tights from the drawer and laid them with the outfit at the foot of her bed. After a quick shower, I put on my favorite flannel pajamas and crawled into bed. The novel I’d been reading for the past month still languished on my bedside table. By the time I finished her evening tasks and prepared for bed, reading two paragraphs was enough to put me right to sleep. Nevertheless, I opened the book and picked up where I’d left off. The scene depicted the first kiss between the main characters.
Oh, right. That’s why I put it down last night. Reluctantly, I read on, picturing myself as the object of the hero’s affection then rested the book in my lap and momentarily closed my eyes.
Come on, girl. You aren’t a silly romantic. This isn’t real life. It’s a romance novel.
Still, my mind conjured up the emotional and physical sensations of being in a man’s arms. A man who loved me. I sighed, returned the book to the nightstand and drifted off to sleep in a cocoon spun by my own imagination.
The next morning, after I deposited Zahra at daycare, I arrived at the hospital. The first tasks I performed were always to check my schedule in the computer and listen to my voicemail. If I’d been assigned any new patients, the doctors alerted me using one of these means. This morning, a voice message from Dr. Liu informed me of a recently admitted MVA patient. The doctor didn’t give me the name or room number. Instead he said, “It’s important that I talk to you before you visit him.”
Before I even put away her coat, I reported to his office and greeted him from the doorway. “Good morning, Doctor. Your assistant isn’t at her desk.”
“Good morning,” he said, looking up from the computer screen. “She’s not here yet. Come in and have a seat.”
I did as he asked, folded my hands in my lap and waited for him to speak.
“We have a patient that’s going to need extensive rehabilitation.” He went on to explain the patient’s injuries.
“Gee, sounds like he’s fortunate to have survived.”
“That’s exactly what I told him, but he’s not feeling very thankful at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you meet him. He’s resentful because he’s fearful his injuries might’ve ruined his career.”
“What is he, a ballet dancer?” I snickered.
“No, he’s an actor. In fact, you might know of him. His name is Vaughn Breland, and I hear he’s a Hollywood hottie.”
My jaw dropped. “Vaughn Breland. Are you sure?” I blinked at the thoughts rushing through my mind. Ever since I’d started reading that new romance novel, I had pictured the hero as looking exactly like Vaughn Breland.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean it that way. Yes, I do know of him. In fact, my best friend and I just watched his last movie the other night. What in the world is he doing in Telluride? The film festival’s been over for months.”
“He said he was on his way to visit a friend who lives in town.” Dr. Liu slid the file across his desk. “Here’s the hard copy of his chart.”
For the next several minutes, I thumbed through the papers, shaking my head. “He sustained these injuries and isn’t grateful? What is he, crazy?”
The doctor chuckled. “No, just a bit vain, I’m afraid and probably somewhat depressed. In addition to the fractured hip and legs, his face was also damaged, which could very well sound the death knell for his acting career.”
“Oh, my. That’s terrible. And he’s such a gorgeous man.” My gaze jerked up to meet Dr. Liu’s. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
He laughed then quickly sobered. “Since the hospital considers Mr. Breland a VIP, your complete confidentiality is expected.
“Of course. I understand.”
“So, are you ready to meet our illustrious visitor this afternoon?”
“Sure,” I said, thankful I didn’t have to go immediately. At least it would give me time to fix my hat-flattened hair, reapply my lipstick and add a little blush. After all, with the exception of spotting Tom Cruise in the lobby of Aemono a couple of years ago, this was my first time meeting a Hollywood star.
Don’t be ridiculous, Trenyce. Your looks are the last thing on this guy’s mind. He’s worried about his own.
“Okay. He’s in 704. We put him at the end of an empty corridor for privacy’s sake. “I’ll come by and get you around one o’clock.”
For the rest of the morning, I considered what it might be like working with the star that had a reputation in the media for being a major player. Recently he’d been photographed canoodling with several different actresses and fashion models.
Coming in late November 2012 to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
Last Saturday you met the protagonist, Trenyce Clark. This peek gives some insight into her life and how she meets Vaughn Breland. Enjoy!
*** I ran into the center, apologizing profusely for my lateness and paid the late fee. Paying consistent late fees was the only way I could do anything after work.
“Mommy!” Zahra called to me from the doorway of the aftercare room.
“Hi, sweetie pie.” I lifted her into one arm and took her coat from the teacher with the other. “Sorry I took so long. I had to meet Aunt Penny.”
“She in the car?” Zahra’s big hazel eyes looked toward the entrance with anticipation.
“No, she had to go home, but she said she’ll see you on Thursday at the gym.”
“Yay!” She clapped her hands and bounced in her safety seat. “I like the gym. They have toys.”
After I put Zahra into her coat and snapped the hood snugly under her chin, I wiggled Zahra’s little fingers into her gloves and she thanked the teacher then headed back out into the cold with my daughter on one hip.
In spite of the fact that I’d been in Colorado for eight years now, I still hadn’t acclimated to the weather. Being an Atlanta native, I grew up wearing shorts in April and little more than a cardigan sweater at Thanksgiving.
Zahra clapped and squealed in delight when I pulled up in front of The Sweet Life, her favorite restaurant.
“I want a hamburger, Mommy,” she requested from the back seat.
“Okay, but no French fries, sweetie. You can have soup instead and some milk. No soda.”
“Awww. I like French fries.” She poked out her lips.
“I know you do, but they’re not good for you,” I told her reflection in the rear view mirror. “Fries only on the weekend, remember?”
“O-kay.”
We went inside, I picked up the order I’d called in earlier then drove the short distance home. Parked in my assigned space, I unloaded my briefcase, Zahra’s backpack and the bags with our dinner then carefully maneuvered around the car on the icy parking lot pavement to the rear passenger door.
“After we eat, it’s bath time, little girl.”
“Can I have bubbles?”
“Of course, you can.” I unbuckled the harness of her safety seat. “If you eat all your dinner, that is.”
“I’ll eat it all up!”
Nothing gave me more joy than making Zahra happy, but I always struggled to rein in the temptation to give her everything she wanted. Nothing was worse than an over-indulged child. I’d seen enough of them causing a commotion in local restaurants and movie theaters. My daughter would not be one of those little monsters with “no home training,” to quote one of my mother’s favorite phrases.
With the briefcase and Zahra’s backpack hooked on one shoulder, I clutched the paper bags close to my chest and held my daughter’s hand in a tight grip. “Walk slowly, punkin. It’s slippery out here.” Whenever we went out, there was always something to carry. It had taken me the better part of Zahra’s first year to master doing everything with one arm while transporting a baby in the other. Now I was an expert.
After I washed my hands and cleaned Zahra’s with a wet wipe, I transferred our dinner onto plates. It was bad enough that we ended up eating fast food at least twice a week. They didn’t have to eat on pieces of paper. My parents had raised their children to eat meals on real dishes seated together at the table instead of from paper bags or Styrofoam trays, and I was determined to raise my daughter the same way. Some semblance of civility in our lives was a necessity. Just because I was a single mom didn’t mean we had to live like nomads.
As soon as Zahra finished eating, I gave her the promised bubble bath, read a story, listened while she said her nightly prayers and tucked her in. I glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove and shook my head. Seven twenty-five, and I still had to put together her clothes for the next day and check her backpack for any notices from the school. By then if I got to watch an hour of television to unwind before I crashed, it would be a miracle. Such was our nightly routine. If I had my own practice, I could set my own hours, pick her up early and be able to have a few hours to relax. That prospect looked light years away though.
I searched through Zahra’s chest of drawers for a matching shirt and pants and silently reprimanded myself for my discontentment. After all, there was always plenty of work in Telluride. And even though the black population was less than one percent, I’d made some good friends there, but often I missed the unique fellowship black women had among ourselves. Don’t even mention the lack of eligible black men. They didn’t exist in Telluride.
After the fiasco with Zahra’s father, I wasn’t going to date another white man. Deep down I knew it was wrong to condemn an entire race because of one man, but his desertion had left a gaping hole in my heart. A guy at the gym had been flirting with me for a few weeks, but he reminded me too much of Brad.
Penny kept telling me to stop brushing him off and at least go out on one date with him, but I just wasn’t interested. Hope he wouldn’t be at spin class. For once I just wanted to work out without having to deal with his furtive glances.
The next man in my life would look like my dad – a tall, handsome, brown-skinned brother. Yeah, right. Finding one of them in this town was as probable as a Telluride heat wave. The only way I would run across my chocolate Prince Charming would be to move to a bigger city like Denver. But with a black population of only five percent, the prospects there were only slightly better. New York or Los Angeles was more appealing, and both cities had a teeming nightlife, arts and culture, something else I missed.
Stop dreaming, girl. You’ve been here since college. This is your home. Quit griping and just be happy. Telluride is a clean, beautiful place with good schools and an above-average standard of living. Besides, you have nice friends here. The homes were well kept and the mountains protected the little city in their bowl. There were no traffic lights, strip malls, box stores or massive parking lots. What better place to raise a child?
On the other hand, Zahra was missing out on her own culture. There was no King celebration in January, no Juneteenth parades, no black fine arts festivals during the summer, no HBCU marching band competitions all of the things I’d enjoyed growing up in Atlanta.
Zahra had become adept at dressing herself, a major timesaver in the morning, so I took a pair of panties and tights from the drawer and laid them with the outfit at the foot of her bed. After a quick shower, I put on my favorite flannel pajamas and crawled into bed. The novel I’d been reading for the past month still languished on my bedside table. By the time I finished her evening tasks and prepared for bed, reading two paragraphs was enough to put me right to sleep. Nevertheless, I opened the book and picked up where I’d left off. The scene depicted the first kiss between the main characters.
Oh, right. That’s why I put it down last night. Reluctantly, I read on, picturing myself as the object of the hero’s affection then rested the book in my lap and momentarily closed my eyes.
Come on, girl. You aren’t a silly romantic. This isn’t real life. It’s a romance novel.
Still, my mind conjured up the emotional and physical sensations of being in a man’s arms. A man who loved me. I sighed, returned the book to the nightstand and drifted off to sleep in a cocoon spun by my own imagination.
The next morning, after I deposited Zahra at daycare, I arrived at the hospital. The first tasks I performed were always to check my schedule in the computer and listen to my voicemail. If I’d been assigned any new patients, the doctors alerted me using one of these means. This morning, a voice message from Dr. Liu informed me of a recently admitted MVA patient. The doctor didn’t give me the name or room number. Instead he said, “It’s important that I talk to you before you visit him.”
Before I even put away her coat, I reported to his office and greeted him from the doorway. “Good morning, Doctor. Your assistant isn’t at her desk.”
“Good morning,” he said, looking up from the computer screen. “She’s not here yet. Come in and have a seat.”
I did as he asked, folded my hands in my lap and waited for him to speak.
“We have a patient that’s going to need extensive rehabilitation.” He went on to explain the patient’s injuries.
“Gee, sounds like he’s fortunate to have survived.”
“That’s exactly what I told him, but he’s not feeling very thankful at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you meet him. He’s resentful because he’s fearful his injuries might’ve ruined his career.”
“What is he, a ballet dancer?” I snickered.
“No, he’s an actor. In fact, you might know of him. His name is Vaughn Breland, and I hear he’s a Hollywood hottie.”
My jaw dropped. “Vaughn Breland. Are you sure?” I blinked at the thoughts rushing through my mind. Ever since I’d started reading that new romance novel, I had pictured the hero as looking exactly like Vaughn Breland.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean it that way. Yes, I do know of him. In fact, my best friend and I just watched his last movie the other night. What in the world is he doing in Telluride? The film festival’s been over for months.”
“He said he was on his way to visit a friend who lives in town.” Dr. Liu slid the file across his desk. “Here’s the hard copy of his chart.”
For the next several minutes, I thumbed through the papers, shaking my head. “He sustained these injuries and isn’t grateful? What is he, crazy?”
The doctor chuckled. “No, just a bit vain, I’m afraid and probably somewhat depressed. In addition to the fractured hip and legs, his face was also damaged, which could very well sound the death knell for his acting career.”
“Oh, my. That’s terrible. And he’s such a gorgeous man.” My gaze jerked up to meet Dr. Liu’s. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
He laughed then quickly sobered. “Since the hospital considers Mr. Breland a VIP, your complete confidentiality is expected.
“Of course. I understand.”
“So, are you ready to meet our illustrious visitor this afternoon?”
“Sure,” I said, thankful I didn’t have to go immediately. At least it would give me time to fix my hat-flattened hair, reapply my lipstick and add a little blush. After all, with the exception of spotting Tom Cruise in the lobby of Aemono a couple of years ago, this was my first time meeting a Hollywood star.
Don’t be ridiculous, Trenyce. Your looks are the last thing on this guy’s mind. He’s worried about his own.
“Okay. He’s in 704. We put him at the end of an empty corridor for privacy’s sake. “I’ll come by and get you around one o’clock.”
For the rest of the morning, I considered what it might be like working with the star that had a reputation in the media for being a major player. Recently he’d been photographed canoodling with several different actresses and fashion models.
Coming in late November 2012 to Kindle, Nook, Kobo and Smashwords!
August 25, 2012
Saturday Sneek Peak #4
In today's sneek peak, we return to Telluride, Colorado so I can introduce you to the female protagonist, Trenyce Clark and her daughter, Zahra.
Chapter TwoT renyceClark – Physical Therapist. I stared down at the nametag I’d removed from my shirt after I finished with my last patient session for the day and returned the free weights to their stand in the corner. My job at the hospital paid a decent salary, and I loved working with my patients, but the hours were horrendous. The responsibilities of being a single mom left me little quality time with my daughter, Zahra. Although I’d never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, I knew Zahra and I didn’t spend enough time together. She hadn’t asked to come into this world three years ago. And she certainly hadn’t asked to start her life without the involvement and care of a father, so I had to fill that void the best I could. I was quite capable of raising my daughter alone.
Although Zahra’s birth hadn’t been planned, she was the light of my life. So smart and so beautiful, sometimes I couldn’t believe she was mine. She had gotten the best of both her father and me - a curly mass of light brown hair, not her father’s straight, blonde hair, and her fawn-colored complexion was closer to mine. Once I put all of the equipment back in place and signed out, I drove to 221 South Oak, one of the nicer watering holes in town where Penny and I met for our standing once a week girl time. Spending an hour or two with her was my only social outlet these days. As promised, she was waiting for me on one of the cushy sofas in front of the bar. I eased down beside her.
“Hey, bestie.” Her lightly freckled face spread into an easy smile. “How was work?”
“Like it is every day.” We moved over to the bar, and the bartender came right over when I wiggled my fingers at him. “My regular, Tim. Thanks.” I turned back to Penny with a nonchalant wave. “Nothing exciting. The ever-present skiing mishaps, a couple of seniors with knee replacements. That kind of thing.”
She smiled. “Well, at least you’re not working the slopes or waiting tables, Nycee. The way things are these days, I’m just glad to have a job.”
“Me too. I’m not being ungrateful.” Tim sat the strawberry daiquiri on a napkin in front of me. “But I’ve told you how it is. Being hospital staff, you’re subject to its rules and regulations. If the other therapist doesn’t show up, I have to cover. That doesn’t thrill Zahra or the aftercare people at her school,” I said between sips. “It seems like I’m always paying overtime fees, and you’ve even had to pick her up when I couldn’t get there by seven.”
“You know I don’t mind. She’s my goddaughter. I’d do anything for my little Ladybug.”
“And I appreciate it. I just need a job where I can make my own hours.”
“One of these days, you’ll be able to freelance.”
“Oh, right. When Prince Charming comes galloping up to rescue me on a pristine white snowmobile with his ski pole drawn. Yada, yada yada.”
Penny swirled the straw around in her drink. “It could happen, you know. Anything is possible.”
I laughed and shook my head. “That’s why I love you. You’re the eternal optimist.”
“So, are we going to spin class on Friday?”
“If they have someone to monitor the kids’ room. Zahra likes hanging out there.”
We finished our drinks, hugged and said goodbye then headed back outside in the cold. The recent storm had dumped a fresh layer of snow, and the plowed piles lining the streets were no longer gray. I exited the parking lot and turned my four-wheel drive Grand Cherokee toward the daycare center. The Jeep handled the snow beautifully, the reason I’d bought it rather than something smaller and cheaper. On my way to the daycare center, I recalled the days Penny and I spent as roommates at the University of Phoenix. At first I hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of sharing my dorm room with a white girl and had even asked my parents to get my room assignment changed. What in the world would we have in common? They encouraged me to stick it out for at least the first semester and promised to intervene at that time if I still wasn’t happy.
Penny Murphy turned out to be the perfect roommate. My rather sheltered, middle-class, southern suburban upbringing was in direct opposition to her big city background. She wasn’t afraid to do anything or go anywhere, and she enthusiastically dragged me along with her to campus events and townie parties that I would never have attended by myself. By the end of the first semester, we were inseparable. And we had remained best friends ever since.
August 18, 2012
Saturday Sneak Peek #3
Today I am sharing the third excerpt from
Ain't Too Proud to Beg
, my upcoming fall release. I forgot to mention, for the grammar nazis, that all of these excerpts are unedited. The whole manuscript won't go to my editor until the story is complete.
In a few seconds, V’s snores reverberated in the room. I decided to wait until he was out cold before I went find some coffee and call Shontae with an update.
“V, can you hear me?” I asked, even though I knew he couldn’t. “I’m going to get some coffee. Be right back.”
Someone at the nurse’s station gave me directions to the cafeteria. I took the elevator down to the hospital’s lower level. Once the doors closed, I exhaled. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight that met me when I entered Vaughn’s room. It was a good thing they had him heavily sedated. The Frankenstein contraption rigged above the bed holding his most damaged leg was enough to make the toughest man wet his pants. When his head cleared enough for his curiosity to take over, Vaughn’s reaction was going to be ugly. Six stainless steel rods about twelve inches long appeared to be screwed through the bones to hold his leg in place. Large clamps fastened to the ends of the rods. It resembled something from a torture chamber.
On the phone, Craig said V’s condition was stable, which was most likely what he’d been told by the hospital staff. But what kind of shape did I expect someone who’d just collided with a mountain in a two-seater to be in? Vaughn obviously had no idea yet how severe his injuries were. Would he be able to walk again? And if he could, would he be marked with a limp for the rest of his life? These were surely the questions V would ask when he was no longer under the influence of the painkillers. Hopefully, I’d be nowhere around when that happened.
A secluded spot on the lower level provided the perfect spot to make the call.
“Hi, honey,” Shontae answered. “I’ve been waiting for you to call. Have you seen Vaughn yet?”
I rubbed the tension in my neck. “Baby, it’s worse than I thought. They have one of his legs pinned together with bolts. The other one is in a hard cast. It’s impossible to even tell what kind of condition his face is in, because he’s stitched and bandaged.” I hesitated. “It’s bad.”
“Oh, God. Is he going to be able to walk? What are the doctors saying?”
“The doctor hasn’t been in to see him yet. He’s sleeping right now, compliments of the happy meds.”
“You know Vaughn has no family to help him. Find out what you can from the doctor so you can talk to him when he wakes up.”
“I’ll see what I can get, but I have to be back on set in two days. I won’t be able to oversee his care.”
“He’ll understand, and I know he will appreciate whatever you can do for him.”
Before we ended the call, I promised to let her know what I discussed with the doctor. Shontae was right. V needed me there. He wasn’t normally high strung, but who knows how he’d react to multiple bad news? Someone needed to be there to console him when the time came. Could he make V see that simply surviving an accident of that magnitude was a miracle in itself?
Probably not.
***
The chair in the corner was empty when I reopened my eyes. Other than that annoying beep of the monitor, silence was my only companion. All I could think of was how, little more than a month ago, I’d topped the list of Ebony magazine’s “50 Finest,” their answer to People’s Caucasian-heavy “Fifty Most Beautiful” list. The photographer who’d done the spread kept raving about my dark complexion, high cheekbones and deep dimples. I was well aware that many of the lists I’d made had nothing to do with my acting skill. And I didn’t care. Being recognized for my physical attributes did more for me than a Golden Globe or Oscar ever could. It kept me on women’s minds all over the country, which was all I needed to seal a hookup every night of the year. Just being a working actor in Hollywood was a major accomplishment. It paid the mortgage on my crib in the LA Grand condos overlooking downtown Los Angeles, my car note, and filled my closets with designer clothes. That was all the honeys were interested in.
Now everything that gave my life meaning was in jeopardy. My ride was wrecked, and since I didn’t have enough clout to give the studio reason to postpone filming until I recovered, most likely I’d be replaced in my current film role. The possibility of losing my looks scared the hell out of me. The more I contemplated how my life was falling apart, the more panicky I became and had to pull in a couple of deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.
Almost as if he’d been summoned by my near looming panic attack, the elusive doctor appeared. “Good afternoon, Mr. Breland, I’m Dr. Liu.” The middle-aged Asian man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I performed your surgery. How are you feeling?”
The pounding in my head seemed to drown out his words. “I’m hurting now.”
“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how would you rate the pain?”
I groaned again. “About seven.”
“I’d like to discuss your condition,” the doctor went on as if a seven wasn’t worth acknowledging. I should’ve said ten. He glanced in Devon’s direction. “And explain exactly what the surgery accomplished and what your recovery will entail.”
“It’s okay. This is my friend, Devon Burke. He can hear this.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Liu smiled and extended his hand. “I’ve seen your work.”
They shook hands then Dr. Liu turned back to me. “Do you remember anything about the accident?” the doctor asked, simultaneously scanning the computer screen.
“Not much. I was on 141 and tried to take a curve. Guess I skidded and lost control.”
“The accident happened closer to Montrose Memorial, Mr. Breland, but you were LifeFlighted here. We’re the only twenty-four-hour, Level Five Trauma Center in the region. If you’re up to it, we can talk about the surgery and where we go from here.”
“Okay. Straight, no chaser.”
“All right.” Dr. Liu pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat. “A combination of the seatbelt and the airbags saved your life, but apparently all your weight came to bear on your left leg on impact. You have a complete compound fracture of the right tibia and fibula, both bones in your lower leg. The force of the crash pushed everything up so that your left hip absorbed the impact, which dislocated the hip and shattered your thighbone. When you were brought in, your foot was facing in the opposite direction. I had to stand over the table and wrestle the hip back into the socket. Your right leg sustained a simple fracture and is in a standard plaster cast.”
What I heard turned my stomach. I swallowed to keep the nausea down. The possibilities momentarily overwhelmed me. What if I ended up with a limp? Who would hire me? If I couldn’t act, what could I do? No way was I going back to selling men’s wear in a retail store. As far back as I could remember, the only thing I wanted to be was an actor. And I’d achieved my dream. It would kill me to go back to punching a clock and dealing with John Q. Public on a daily basis.
Dr. Liu continued. “The surgery took about two and a half hours. A titanium nail was inserted into the left tibia with five screws to secure it in place. I couldn’t put a cast on because there’s a open wound in the side where the broken bones came through the skin.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Devon squirm.
“I couldn’t do a skin graft to close the wound, because you were too low on blood. You were given seven units. The graft will have to be done in the future.”
“Another surgery?” This was turning into a nightmare. When was I going to wake up? My chest tightened, and I struggled to get the words out. “Will I…be able to walk again?”
“Most definitely, Mr. Breland,” Dr. Liu said a little too cheerfully for my taste. “But complete rehabilitation will take some time. Meanwhile, you’ll need to be in traction for about seven weeks.
This guy was tripping. I couldn’t be locked down that long. The idea of any kind of restraints made me crazy. Unless it was to a headboard with padded handcuffs. “You mean, I have to stay in this bed all that time?”
“It’s necessary in order to keep the bones in the right place for them to heal,” he explained in a flat, emotionless manner. “A regimen of physical therapy will start once you’re on crutches. Considering your car rolled over several times, it’s a miracle you have no spinal injuries.”
“Thank God for small favors, huh?”
Dr. Liu met my gaze with no expression. “I’d say so. Yes, Mr. Breland.”
The sarcasm really wasn’t intentional. It just came out as I imagined myself looking like a fly caught in a spider web. This couldn’t be happening. I’d been on my way to work out a deal that could have set me up for life. Now I was shackled to this bed like a prisoner. “What about my face?” I mumbled.
“It sustained damage from the airbag and flying glass. That’s all I know from your chart. One of the surgeons from Plastics will be in to see you shortly.”
“So…,” my stomach clenched. “You’re saying I’ll probably need a third surgery?”
“Possibly. That’s not my area. Do you have any questions for me?”
The fear constricting my throat wouldn’t allow me to speak. I turned to the wall and didn’t answer.
“It could have been much worse, Mr. Breland. I’ll stop in to check on you tomorrow.” The doctor turned toward Devon. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Burke.”
“Likewise.” Devon rose from the chair. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”
“Certainly, let’s go into the hallway.”
He and Dr. Liu left the room.
What have I done to deserve this? The second the thought came to mind, so did the answer, and I had to force away images of different women haranguing me for lying, deceiving them, standing them up, because I had a better offer and any number of other sins.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the hot tear from rolling down my face. I was in my prime, way too young to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And I knew without a doubt I didn’t have the intestinal fortitude of a Christopher Reeve or a Teddy Pendergrass. If this was what the future had to hold, I’d rather be dead.
Coming this fall to Kindle, Nook, and Kobo!
In a few seconds, V’s snores reverberated in the room. I decided to wait until he was out cold before I went find some coffee and call Shontae with an update.
“V, can you hear me?” I asked, even though I knew he couldn’t. “I’m going to get some coffee. Be right back.”
Someone at the nurse’s station gave me directions to the cafeteria. I took the elevator down to the hospital’s lower level. Once the doors closed, I exhaled. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight that met me when I entered Vaughn’s room. It was a good thing they had him heavily sedated. The Frankenstein contraption rigged above the bed holding his most damaged leg was enough to make the toughest man wet his pants. When his head cleared enough for his curiosity to take over, Vaughn’s reaction was going to be ugly. Six stainless steel rods about twelve inches long appeared to be screwed through the bones to hold his leg in place. Large clamps fastened to the ends of the rods. It resembled something from a torture chamber.
On the phone, Craig said V’s condition was stable, which was most likely what he’d been told by the hospital staff. But what kind of shape did I expect someone who’d just collided with a mountain in a two-seater to be in? Vaughn obviously had no idea yet how severe his injuries were. Would he be able to walk again? And if he could, would he be marked with a limp for the rest of his life? These were surely the questions V would ask when he was no longer under the influence of the painkillers. Hopefully, I’d be nowhere around when that happened.
A secluded spot on the lower level provided the perfect spot to make the call.
“Hi, honey,” Shontae answered. “I’ve been waiting for you to call. Have you seen Vaughn yet?”
I rubbed the tension in my neck. “Baby, it’s worse than I thought. They have one of his legs pinned together with bolts. The other one is in a hard cast. It’s impossible to even tell what kind of condition his face is in, because he’s stitched and bandaged.” I hesitated. “It’s bad.”
“Oh, God. Is he going to be able to walk? What are the doctors saying?”
“The doctor hasn’t been in to see him yet. He’s sleeping right now, compliments of the happy meds.”
“You know Vaughn has no family to help him. Find out what you can from the doctor so you can talk to him when he wakes up.”
“I’ll see what I can get, but I have to be back on set in two days. I won’t be able to oversee his care.”
“He’ll understand, and I know he will appreciate whatever you can do for him.”
Before we ended the call, I promised to let her know what I discussed with the doctor. Shontae was right. V needed me there. He wasn’t normally high strung, but who knows how he’d react to multiple bad news? Someone needed to be there to console him when the time came. Could he make V see that simply surviving an accident of that magnitude was a miracle in itself?
Probably not.
***
The chair in the corner was empty when I reopened my eyes. Other than that annoying beep of the monitor, silence was my only companion. All I could think of was how, little more than a month ago, I’d topped the list of Ebony magazine’s “50 Finest,” their answer to People’s Caucasian-heavy “Fifty Most Beautiful” list. The photographer who’d done the spread kept raving about my dark complexion, high cheekbones and deep dimples. I was well aware that many of the lists I’d made had nothing to do with my acting skill. And I didn’t care. Being recognized for my physical attributes did more for me than a Golden Globe or Oscar ever could. It kept me on women’s minds all over the country, which was all I needed to seal a hookup every night of the year. Just being a working actor in Hollywood was a major accomplishment. It paid the mortgage on my crib in the LA Grand condos overlooking downtown Los Angeles, my car note, and filled my closets with designer clothes. That was all the honeys were interested in.
Now everything that gave my life meaning was in jeopardy. My ride was wrecked, and since I didn’t have enough clout to give the studio reason to postpone filming until I recovered, most likely I’d be replaced in my current film role. The possibility of losing my looks scared the hell out of me. The more I contemplated how my life was falling apart, the more panicky I became and had to pull in a couple of deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.
Almost as if he’d been summoned by my near looming panic attack, the elusive doctor appeared. “Good afternoon, Mr. Breland, I’m Dr. Liu.” The middle-aged Asian man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I performed your surgery. How are you feeling?”
The pounding in my head seemed to drown out his words. “I’m hurting now.”
“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how would you rate the pain?”
I groaned again. “About seven.”
“I’d like to discuss your condition,” the doctor went on as if a seven wasn’t worth acknowledging. I should’ve said ten. He glanced in Devon’s direction. “And explain exactly what the surgery accomplished and what your recovery will entail.”
“It’s okay. This is my friend, Devon Burke. He can hear this.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Liu smiled and extended his hand. “I’ve seen your work.”
They shook hands then Dr. Liu turned back to me. “Do you remember anything about the accident?” the doctor asked, simultaneously scanning the computer screen.
“Not much. I was on 141 and tried to take a curve. Guess I skidded and lost control.”
“The accident happened closer to Montrose Memorial, Mr. Breland, but you were LifeFlighted here. We’re the only twenty-four-hour, Level Five Trauma Center in the region. If you’re up to it, we can talk about the surgery and where we go from here.”
“Okay. Straight, no chaser.”
“All right.” Dr. Liu pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat. “A combination of the seatbelt and the airbags saved your life, but apparently all your weight came to bear on your left leg on impact. You have a complete compound fracture of the right tibia and fibula, both bones in your lower leg. The force of the crash pushed everything up so that your left hip absorbed the impact, which dislocated the hip and shattered your thighbone. When you were brought in, your foot was facing in the opposite direction. I had to stand over the table and wrestle the hip back into the socket. Your right leg sustained a simple fracture and is in a standard plaster cast.”
What I heard turned my stomach. I swallowed to keep the nausea down. The possibilities momentarily overwhelmed me. What if I ended up with a limp? Who would hire me? If I couldn’t act, what could I do? No way was I going back to selling men’s wear in a retail store. As far back as I could remember, the only thing I wanted to be was an actor. And I’d achieved my dream. It would kill me to go back to punching a clock and dealing with John Q. Public on a daily basis.
Dr. Liu continued. “The surgery took about two and a half hours. A titanium nail was inserted into the left tibia with five screws to secure it in place. I couldn’t put a cast on because there’s a open wound in the side where the broken bones came through the skin.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Devon squirm.
“I couldn’t do a skin graft to close the wound, because you were too low on blood. You were given seven units. The graft will have to be done in the future.”
“Another surgery?” This was turning into a nightmare. When was I going to wake up? My chest tightened, and I struggled to get the words out. “Will I…be able to walk again?”
“Most definitely, Mr. Breland,” Dr. Liu said a little too cheerfully for my taste. “But complete rehabilitation will take some time. Meanwhile, you’ll need to be in traction for about seven weeks.
This guy was tripping. I couldn’t be locked down that long. The idea of any kind of restraints made me crazy. Unless it was to a headboard with padded handcuffs. “You mean, I have to stay in this bed all that time?”
“It’s necessary in order to keep the bones in the right place for them to heal,” he explained in a flat, emotionless manner. “A regimen of physical therapy will start once you’re on crutches. Considering your car rolled over several times, it’s a miracle you have no spinal injuries.”
“Thank God for small favors, huh?”
Dr. Liu met my gaze with no expression. “I’d say so. Yes, Mr. Breland.”
The sarcasm really wasn’t intentional. It just came out as I imagined myself looking like a fly caught in a spider web. This couldn’t be happening. I’d been on my way to work out a deal that could have set me up for life. Now I was shackled to this bed like a prisoner. “What about my face?” I mumbled.
“It sustained damage from the airbag and flying glass. That’s all I know from your chart. One of the surgeons from Plastics will be in to see you shortly.”
“So…,” my stomach clenched. “You’re saying I’ll probably need a third surgery?”
“Possibly. That’s not my area. Do you have any questions for me?”
The fear constricting my throat wouldn’t allow me to speak. I turned to the wall and didn’t answer.
“It could have been much worse, Mr. Breland. I’ll stop in to check on you tomorrow.” The doctor turned toward Devon. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Burke.”
“Likewise.” Devon rose from the chair. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”
“Certainly, let’s go into the hallway.”
He and Dr. Liu left the room.
What have I done to deserve this? The second the thought came to mind, so did the answer, and I had to force away images of different women haranguing me for lying, deceiving them, standing them up, because I had a better offer and any number of other sins.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the hot tear from rolling down my face. I was in my prime, way too young to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And I knew without a doubt I didn’t have the intestinal fortitude of a Christopher Reeve or a Teddy Pendergrass. If this was what the future had to hold, I’d rather be dead.
Coming this fall to Kindle, Nook, and Kobo!
August 16, 2012
I'm on Kobo!
To all Canadian, Australian, Japanese and Eurozone readers: My multicultural romance and women's fiction books are now available on Kobo! You can get them all here: http://bit.ly/MvlqkY
August 15, 2012
Character Inspiration ...
I posted this on Facebook the other day, and the response was incredible. It never ceases to amaze me that whenever I start writing a new story, thoughts start bombarding my mind about the next story.
A while back, I had an idea about doing a series featuring a family of four brothers, so because I am such a visual person, I began searching the Internet for pictures of the physical role models for my characters, the Stafford brothers. The first four, Marcus, Charles, Jesse and Nick, came easily because I already had their photos saved into a "future characters" file. One day, while surfing the Internet, I ran across a photo of model Victor Ross. He quickly became the fifth brother. Last week, while piddling on Pinterest, gorgeous model/actor Billy Payne's blue eyes jumped out of the screenand right onto the Stafford brothers' collage. A few days later, again on Pinterest, someone had posted a photo of another hottie who looked as if he would fit right in the family. So, now Mama and Daddy Stafford have seven sons!
If I give each of them their own book, that will keep me busy for the next three years...
So, here they are, folks, the physical role models for my Stafford Brothers series from top left to bottom right: Victor Ross, Marcus Patrick, Charles Divins, Billy Payne, unnamed hottie (if anyone knows his name, pleeeease let me know), Jesse Williams and Nick Denbeigh.
(Double click on the photo to enlarge.)
What do you think? Already I can see stories behind those eyes ...
This is mama and daddy, BTW. Faces with such character ...
Tell me what you think.
A while back, I had an idea about doing a series featuring a family of four brothers, so because I am such a visual person, I began searching the Internet for pictures of the physical role models for my characters, the Stafford brothers. The first four, Marcus, Charles, Jesse and Nick, came easily because I already had their photos saved into a "future characters" file. One day, while surfing the Internet, I ran across a photo of model Victor Ross. He quickly became the fifth brother. Last week, while piddling on Pinterest, gorgeous model/actor Billy Payne's blue eyes jumped out of the screenand right onto the Stafford brothers' collage. A few days later, again on Pinterest, someone had posted a photo of another hottie who looked as if he would fit right in the family. So, now Mama and Daddy Stafford have seven sons!
If I give each of them their own book, that will keep me busy for the next three years...
So, here they are, folks, the physical role models for my Stafford Brothers series from top left to bottom right: Victor Ross, Marcus Patrick, Charles Divins, Billy Payne, unnamed hottie (if anyone knows his name, pleeeease let me know), Jesse Williams and Nick Denbeigh.
(Double click on the photo to enlarge.)
What do you think? Already I can see stories behind those eyes ...
This is mama and daddy, BTW. Faces with such character ...
Tell me what you think.
August 11, 2012
Saturday Sneak Peek #2
Last Saturday I posted the first sneak peek into Ain’t Too Proud to Beg , my upcoming fall release. Today, we’re going back to movie star Vaughn Breland’s Telluride, Colorado hospital room:
***
My drug-addled mind drifted backward. I gradually recalled smiling to myself as my brand new fire engine red Lamborghini Aventador J, that I had affectionately nicknamed AJ, hugged the pavement and maneuvered the snow-covered curve in the mountain road. She gently leaned like a palm tree in the Santa Ana wind. It had only been a month since I’d bought the luxurious automobile, a gift to myself after I had received the nomination for best supporting actor in a recent blockbuster film. This was the first time I’d driven it out of state, and so far she’d performed like a prize thoroughbred.
Of course, I could’ve flown, but then nobody would’ve have been able to see my new ride. I remembered bobbing my head to the thumping beat of the song playing through the superb sound system. Thank God for satellite. Up in the mountains, regular radio reception would probably work a brother’s last good nerve. Thankfully, the snowstorm that had just visited the Telluride area was now over, but I’d silently wished I had left Los Angeles earlier. The sun was slipping behind the mountains and the impending darkness made me jumpy. Heavy rain and some minor mudslides were the worst weather I’d ever dealt with in my fifteen years living in California. But, even as a Chicago native who had learned how to drive in snowstorms, my stomach clenched and I eased off of the brake when the car’s rear end fishtailed. Probably not the best car for mountain climbing. Maybe I should’ve rented a Range Rover. Why worry about that now? According to the GPS, there was less than an hour left to my destination.
I remembered turning up the volume, switching my thoughts to the little bon voyage party I’d had the night before with Reese and retreating into my thoughts. The descending sun and visions of that sweet, young thing riding me like her life depended on it took my attention from the road sign warning of a barely visible hairpin turn up ahead. Once I realized the danger ahead and eased onto the brake to prepare for the turn, it was too late. At only forty miles an hour, the road conditions and the fact that the car had no weight in the rear made it impossible to handle the turn. The sight of a jagged mountain wall rushing toward the windshield was last thing I remembered.
“I can’t feel my legs. Am I paralyzed?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Breland. The surgeon administered a local anesthetic and also prescribed a morphine drip, so you wouldn’t experience any post-surgical pain.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment while I tried to make sense of everything I’d just heard. “But my head hurts,” was all I managed in response.
“You have a concussion. I’ll make sure the doctor is aware. We can’t give you anything else in addition to the morphine without his order. He should be here shortly.”
“Does anyone know I’m here?”
The brunette checked his chart on her hand-held computer. “It says here that EMS contacted someone, but I don’t have that information either.” She apologized again. “You do have a visitor in the waiting room. He’s been here for several hours.”
“Who? '
“It’s Devon Burke,” she answered with restrained excitement in her voice.
“Can he come in?”
“Certainly. Will you get Mr. Burke, June?”
Maybe it was just the heavy narcotic playing tricks with my mind, but I thought I saw Nurse June smile on her way out of the room. Almost everyone knew Devon these days, since he was blazing a trail in Hollywood as a sought-after leading man. I closed my eyes and didn’t open them until Devon’s heavy baritone punctuated the rhythmic beep of the monitor.
“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting into some kind of trouble,” Devon said from the doorway with a trace of laughter in his trademark voice.
“Don’t make me laugh. My head hurts.”
“Sorry.”
“That leash Shontae has you on stretches this far?”
“Oh, you’re laying up here looking like The Mummy Returns, and you got jokes?” Devon moved closer and suddenly stopped. “I got a call from Craig last night. Shontae and I didn’t want you to be here alone.”
“Thanks, man.” He sighed. “Looks like I really effed it up this time.”
“Hey, you’re alive. That’s all that matters.” Devon approached the bed again with hesitant steps and just stared for a few beats. “Damn, V. What happened?”
“All I can remember is trying to take a curve on 141. The next thing I knew, a mountain was coming at me.” He groaned. “What’s taking that doctor so long?”
“You want me to go find out?”
“No.” I’d answered too quickly. Devon didn’t need to know how hospitals scared the mess out of me. “That’s okay.”
We had been friends since we starred in a film together a few years earlier. Before he permanently relocated from New York to California, Devon often camped out at my apartment whenever he came to L.A. for auditions. In spite of our personality differences, our relationship quickly developed into what some Hollywood reporters had the nerve to call a “bromance.” Dev was my boy. We shared the personal details of our lives that couldn’t be revealed to others, and we trusted each other implicitly. Both of us had learned early on that our lives in the Wood required a certain amount of discretion. It felt good to have a confidante in a town where private lives were considered everybody’s business.
Devon sank into a chair in the corner and angled it toward the bed, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. I must look like hell.
“They say,” Vaughn hesitated for a moment. “I broke both my legs, dislocated…my hip and…” The words in my head wouldn’t come out of my mouth. The morphine must’ve finally kicked in. “Uh, my hip, and…my face is jacked…up.”
“You don’t have to talk, man. Try to get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Coming this November to Kindle, Nook, Kobo & Smashwords!
