IN THE CHAIR-You Gotta Hear This

Scenes of Love & Romance

2012-02-14T12:03:00.000-08:00

SCENES OF LOVE & ROMANCE

Join the character's from the novels by Ey Wade as they share their most memorable love scenes.

D.N.A.

[Dysfunctional family, trials, and a teen struggling for her physical and mental survival after the loss of her family.]

Scene: Chance meeting between Debney and Giante' on the stairs inside ofKing’s Multicultural High School

"Are you okay?"

Lifting her head and lowering it just as quickly when hergaze smacked straight into the concerned eyes of Giante’ De Vicari, Debneysighed and cursed under her breath irritably. Not bothering to answer shecontinued on her measured course down, the action successfully causing him tomove with her.

Gianté walked down the stairs backward and directly in frontof her, his left hand sliding unhurriedly down the rail with his the arm heldstiffly, successfully giving the impression he would protect her from falling.His hands were huge, smooth and long-fingered. And from what she tried hard notto remember, extremely gentle.

She felt the heat rise in her face as quickly as the shameentered her thoughts. Above all the others, she remembered him. Every thoughtshe ever had of him caused her to ridicule herself. If the imminent danger offalling wasn’t weighing heavily on her mind, she would have closed her eyes toavoid the compassion in his.

"You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to pretend you know me,Debney. Hell, we’ve spent every summer together for as long as I can remember.I’m just worried about you, Deb." His voice softened as he whispered thelast part.

"I’m fine." Her voice came out in little more thana whisper. It had been days since anyone had spoken to her. Weeks, if yousubtracted the cruel, sarcastic tones of voices. She quickened her steps,trying to brush past him as soon as her feet hit solid ground, but he, asusual, blocked her path.

"I haven’t seen you in a while. What with football practiceand Spring Break, I haven’t had time to roam the halls, but I’ve missedyou." He bent down a little to try and see her face through the curtain ofher thick, dark hair.

His smile was encouraging, and the only thing she could seeof his face without boldly throwing her head back. No way would she be doingthat, she just didn’t feel brave enough to follow through. The last time shelet her emotions rule her actions all hell had fallen into her life. She kepther head down and watched her hands gently rubbing her stomach as sheencouraged herself to respond.

"That’s fine Gianté, it didn't matter. Everything hasbeen the same." She sucked in a deep breath and tried to go around him,but was forestalled by his evasive movements. "Can you get out of the way?I have things I need to do before the bell rings."

"Why do you always run from me, Debney?"

Closing her eyes briefly, Debney sighed deeply. She justdidn’t have time for an interrogation. She knew anything she did out of herordinary habit of scurrying through the crowd would draw unwanted attention inher direction. Standing still in the middle of the hallway was something sheavoided as much as possible. When it came to finding a victim for harassment,she was the biggest target and she preferred to be a moving one. Peering aroundhis shoulder at the students in the hallway, she took a steadying breath. Maybeif she let him have a few moments of conversation he would hurry and move andshe would be free to go on her way.

Pressured beyond belief, knowing she had a short space oftime to get through the hallway to the restroom and yet not willing to give himaccess to such information, she feigned irritation, executed her best wigglingneck in the current, attitudinal, broken-hinged fashion and answered louderthan necessary.

"Why do you always stand in my way, Giant?" herirritation at being confronted plainly showing.

"You know I don't like you calling me that, Deb."

Of course she knew. He had been teased with the nicknamefrom the third grade onward. Ever since kindergarten, he’d been shoulders andhead taller than the other boys his age, and after the summer of their fifthgrade year, he’d outgrown those same boys by another nine inches.

Tossing her head back to clear the hair from her face, shecommanded herself to look him boldly in the eyes and immediately disobeyed. Atalmost seven feet tall, Gianté looked like a god. A tall, muscular, well-built,beautiful Asian god and she loved him. A fact he seemed unaware of.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

THE PERFECT SOLUTION

[About the book: A three year old is mistakenly given to a stalker]

Scene: Austin Sanchez at his home.

After his harrowing interrogation in thepolice station, where he learned of the existence and kidnapping of his childfor the first time, Austin Sanchez stands in the shower ruminating about hisrelationship with Catrine Teddi.

Standing rigid under the water and hoping that the soothingdrops would calm him, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the stinginghot spray. As the water ran down his cheeks he let himself remember the lastnight they had spent together.

Over the years that they had been apart, he had daredhimself to even bring her name to memory. It had hurt him deeply when theirrelationship ended and his male pride refused to let him go crawling back.Until the day Catrine had thrown him out of her life, he had not realized justhow much she had meant to him. He’d felt as if he would die and had spent manydays on the verge of tears. For a man of his years that had been a newexperience. He had walked around his apartment with barely enough energy tomove. He couldn't concentrate. A terrible thing when you are a surgeon. Finally,he had run to his mother like a wimpy little woman and cried on her shoulders.He told her how clinging Catrine had become. How much the girl wanted him inher life and how much the idea of living with someone frightened him.

"Tin," his mother sat on the sofa looking up athim in barely disguised amusement. She patted the palm of her hand on thecushion next to her

"Honey, sit. You’re hurting my neck. What with melooking up at the ceiling and swinging my head to follow you as you wear outthe carpet with your incessant pacing; I may never be able to use my neckagain." She laughed and patted the spot again when he scowled."Honey, if you cared that much for this girl, why in the world did youbreak up with her? She sounded like a dream to me."

"What are you talking about, Mom? Didn't you hear whatI said? This woman believed that sheowned me. Every time I turned around, she was there."

"You mean she stalked you," his mother stated,tongue-in-cheek, almost laughing when he threw his hands in the air.

"No." He stood back up. "No, I mean it waslike we were never apart. She was just always there. When I got off work, Iwent to her apartment or she came to mine. When we could, we ate lunchtogether. She was just always there, washing dishes, clothes, cleaning theapartment, cooking, relaxing...Mom. Mom, stop laughing this isn’t funny. I justfelt… I don't know."

"Loved? Wanted?"

"No, trapped." he sighed in disgust. "Mom youthink this is funny but it isn't. No matter what I did she never trusted me.She was always thinking that I am messing around with someone else."

"Was she seeing anyone else?"

"No. As a matter of fact I'm the only one sheever...why am I having this conversation with you? I'm going to Dallas' house.He and Houston are watching the game on television."

"Yeah, you do that. Your brothers could probably helpyou a lot better than I can. I think that sometimes you forget that I am awoman. And as such I can understand how this girl feels. If I caught yourdrift, you're the only person this girl has ever slept with, right?" Shecontinued when he put his head down and studied the circle he was making withthe toe of his shoe and didn't answer. "Just that fact would make the girlvery emotional. She.... Uhm, what's her name?" His mother stopped in mid sentence.

"It doesn't matter. I won't be seeing her again."

"Right," She scoffed in disbelief. "If itdoesn't matter, tell me her name. Would I like her? How old is she? Where does she live? How long have you been seeing her? Who are her parents? And she doesn't sleeparound, huh? She sounds like a winner tome."

Austin looked at his mother dubiously.

"Mom, don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"If you answer a few of the questions I would be ableto give you an answer.”

"That's okay Mom. Let it pass. I'll be back." Hewalked backwards to the door.

"Fine, go talk to your brothers. Just don't let thosechauvinistic macho older brothers make you feel or do something you'll regretlater in life. Let them make you wimp out of your true feelings. Make youbelieve you are whipped or anything. I know how men get when they’re together.You know I always tell you guys you can tell me anything. This time I think youmay have to do this on your own. Maybe even think with your heart and not yourhead."

He opened the screen and stepped onto the porch. "Yes,Ma’me I will." He turned and almost ran to his car, laughing to himself ashe got behind the wheel.

Catrine Teddi

Scene: In Catrine’s home after returningfrom confrontation with the director of the daycare center.

Turning, and retracing her steps to the living room, Catrinepaused in the doorway and immediately felt discomfited at the sight of Austinsitting in the chair and dragging his hands tiredly across his eyes beforepressing his face in his hands. He looked just as exhausted as she felt. Theway his shoulders were hunched over brought back memories of the times shewould massage them for him until the fatigue slid away to be replaced by otheremotions. Shaking her head clear of the reverie, she cleared her throat andwalked into the room.

"I'm going to go and lie down for a while. My head hurts,"she said, not expecting or even caring whether he replied.

Taking slow steps tothe liquor cart and grabbing a small bottle of water from one of its threeshelves, she shook two aspirin from their container on the desk and tossed theminto her mouth, drinking from the bottle of water as she walked to her room.

Stopping in the doorway of her room, she flicked off theforgotten light, dropped the empty water bottle to the floor, slipped out ofher shoes and padded across the thick peach colored carpet to the bed. Therewas such a deep hole of sadness in her heart that it ached. Feeling like shecould just lie down and die, Catrine collapsed onto the thick king sizedcomforter that covered the bed. She wiggled to its middle and pulled thesmallest pillow into her arms.

It was Brhin's favorite. With her face pressed into itssoftness, her heart overflowed when Brhin's powdery baby smell wafted into hernostrils. Unable to hold back the tears, she sobbed in abandon. The thought offorever being alone flitted through her brain and she felt like dying.

"Oh, my God, oh my God," she repeated over andover. "How will I live without him?"

The tears ran unchecked down her cheeks and the misery shewas feeling drowned out all sounds of Austin entering the room. Her back was tothe door and she lay trembling in a fetal position. He stood on the side of thebed and watched her as she cried. Unsure of what action to take, he removed hisshoes and lay on the bed beside her.

Pulling her into his arms he held her close and rocked hertrembling form in comfort. Holding her in his arms felt so natural. She hadalways fit just right in his arms and he missed her. He turned her to face himand let her cry into his chest.

"Shhh, you'll make yourself sick," he murmuredsoftly.

"I'm already sick," she barely whispered thewords.

“You know what I mean." He pulled her closer andtightened his hold on her trembling body.

"How can I know? I don't know anythinganymore." She whispered into thenow damp material covering his chest. "I don't know which is worse. Losingthe father or losing the son.”

Catrine put her arm around his neck and pulled herselffurther up on his body. Searching for strength in his arms, she pressed herface into his neck. She breathed in deeply in an effort to stop her tears. Andfor the second that her nostrils were cleared, Brhin's little baby odor wasreplaced with Austin's cologne and the masculine scent of his body.

A deep shudder of appreciation and recognition shook herbody. She pressed the length of her own body closer to his and remembered howit used to be when they were together. She had missed him. She missed the waythe smooth skin of his chest felt under her fingertips.

Putting her hands under the hem of his sweater she ran herhands around and across his stomach and up to his chest. Stopping to lay thepalm of her hand flat on his chest, she trembled at the way the rate of hisheart increased.

She remembered how he had loved it when she drew smallcircles between his breastbones. Slowly, knowing that it would be his undoing,she slid her index finger against the small indention in his flesh andintentionally drew soft circles around the tiny goose bumps that sprang up.

His hands trembled asthey lifted her sweater and quickly unclasped the front opening of her bra. Shegasped when his fingers closed around the nipple of her breast and he capturedher mouth with his. For endless moments they forgot everything and becameengrossed in each other. Like a slow moving fog, reality slipped in and they remembered.Shifting away from each other, they stood and adjusted their clothing, neitherlooking at the other.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She slung herhand in the general direction of the bed in disgust and walked to the door.Never looking up, she put on her shoes. "I'm going into the livingroom."

She was pacing theroom and smoothing down her hair when Austin entered and stopped when hestarted talking.

"Don't sayanything, Austin." She held up herhand. "It's just something between us. Not a thing that can befixed." She shrugged her shoulders in dismissal. "But nothing haschanged. I still want the same things I have always wanted in life and more. I’vemade promises to God, to myself that I cannot go back on. I won’t let myselfget into the same situation I was in before. I'm sure that nothing has changedwith you. I see no ring on your finger. You're probably still running aroundand breaking hearts. I just can't deal with the physical and the personalemotions right now. I have Brhin to think about."

"I know that and I didn't come here to have a scene inthe bedroom. I went in there to offer you comfort and, you know how it isbetween us.” He cleared his throat. “Let's change the subject.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

THE WOMEN OF THE HILL[Five women share a relationship with the same man}

Scene: In the home of Phyliss (ournarrator) and her initiation into life with Sam

The very first time I came incontact with Sam, life had already beaten and humiliated me into thinking I wasa worthless human being. I’d talked myself into having a very low opinion ofthe sorry way I was living and providing for my six-month-old daughter. We weretrying to live off funds acquired before I was terminated from my job as amedical office assistant and it wasn’t working. Things were so tight I washaving a hard time keeping food on the table and the bills paid. After threemonths of scrimping, I was just about ready to give up and move in with mymother and when my friends hooked me up with Sam.

Whenever my girlfriends and I gottogether for our daily ‘4:00 Bash the Stress’ sessions (which was really ourway of legitimizing watching Oprah everyday), I cried on their shoulders. I’dbeen doing this so often they began to laugh at me as soon as I opened my mouthto complain. Each one in turn advised me to get in touch with Sam. ‘Sam is theman’ said one. ‘He could solve all of your problems’ said another. I heard themsay ‘Sam could do this and Sam could do that’ so often that one day as we satin my living room chewing on chips and watching Oprah, I found the courage toask…

“Who is Sam?”

“Girlfriend…”

This was Tone’ya Knoes about toanswer. Tone’ya is thirty-two years old, the encyclopedia of our group. She’sloud, assertive, and the well-informed mother of two daughters. No truer friendcould be found.

With a Humph at the end of theword, she stood in front of me with her hands resting on her well-endowed hipsand shook her head from side to side like a broken shutter. She snapped herfingers two times in an arch above her head and clicked her tongue to therhythm of the snapping fingers.

“Girl, don’t you know anything?Wake up, girl.” She snapped her fingers under my nose.” Sam is the only personthat can help you. He takes care of us.” She swung her arm to include the threewomen sitting in front of the television. “How do you think we all make it?”

“I thought you all had a ‘man’.”

They all laughed.

“Of course we do. The thing is;can we depend on them?” Tone’ya questioned with a smirk.

“No.”

All of the women shouted in unisonand laughed even louder. They shared high-fives and fell all over themselves inmerriment.

“How many of you here can dependon your ‘man’ to remember that you need your bills paid?” She pounded her fistin her opened palm like a frustrated lawyer making a final statement. “Food onthe table, pampers on the baby’s butt and most important…money in yourpockets?”

Tone’ya did the snap and archthing again and everybody in the room cheered while laughingly bemoaning thefaults of their men.

“Well, I can.” Skinny Rayne Moore,the youngest woman in the group stood next to the television and put her handson her hips in imitation of Tone’ya.

Whoever this Sam was, I thought.It was obvious it didn’t matter to him how old or young a woman was. Rayne wasjust making twenty years old. She shook her shoulders, making her breast bounceheavily and gave a very seductive smile.

We continued to laugh.

“You laugh, but I know my mantakes care of me.”

“Who are you talkin’ about girl?”JennyNeeds questioned. “I know you not talkin’ about that fat, sorry ass,cradle-robbin’ Shamel.”

“Honey, please.” Rayne raised heropened hand, in that talk-to-the-hand fashion, towards Jenny.”You know whatShamel is for and he’s not ‘fat’ he’s muscular.” We all snickered. “I’m talkin’about ‘Sam’.” Rayne ignored our side comments and continued. “Sam will do me nowrong. Sam is the man. Can I get a witness?”

She raised her arms in the air anddanced around as if she had gotten the Holy Spirit. Amen sister and you go girlwere repeated over and over as we laughed.

“So all of you get something fromSam, huh?” I asked after the laughter stopped. “Did you all meet him at thesame time?”

“No.” They all answered together.

“I hate to ask this because youall just don’t seem the type, but do you all sleep with Sam? Cuz I’m gonna letyou know right now, I’m not into ‘kinky’.” I quickly added the last so theywould know where I stood. Getting help was one thing, selling my butt and oddsexual acts was another story.

“What? Are you kidding?” Jennygiggled. She pressed her hands over her mouth as if she were trying to hold ina secret. “Girl, you don’t know what you’re missing.” She looked around at theother women and began chuckling like an idiot.

“Oh my….” Frankie choked backlaughter by making quick fanning motions near her eyes with the fingers of bothhands, as she tried to finish her sentence. “Oh, my God we all meet atTone’ya’s house…” Tears of merriment ran down her face. “Around midnight on thefirst Wednesday of each month and take turns screwing him on her kitchentable.”

Letting a loud burst of laughtererupt into the room as she finished speaking, Frankie fell backwards on thecouch laughing uncontrollably. Her shoulder bumped Jenny who fell on the floorchuckling and snorting. Rayne and Tone’ya stared at me opened mouth before theytoo started laughing. Rayne, jumped around in small circles in her delight andTone’ya, in her enjoyment practically skipped around the room. It was a littlewhile before the loud laughter quieted down to giggles, suppressed snickers andone of them could finally answer.

“Girl, I think you need some help.”Tone’ya tapped me on the shoulder in a consoling manner, wiped her eyes andresumed her seat. “I’ll have Sam come over here next Wednesday and we’ll do itin your kitchen.”

The raucous laughter started inthe room again. The merriment was contagious and this time I had to join them.Ignorant to what they found so funny, but happy to shed some of my misery.

“Seriously now,” Frankiestraightened herself before continuing. “Girl, are you crazy. No one sleepswith Sam.”

♥♥♥♥♥♥

THE FISHING TRIP [ A trial by water, execution and deliverance of retribution. Durham killed his abuser at the age of ten. As an adult and
tired of pedophiles having free reign on innocent children, he decides to take the law into his own hands]

Scene: Penny and Joshua’s home after the explosion in thewoods.

Penny heard theting of glass breaking the same time Graham did. He raised his head and shereached for the gun hidden by the foot post under the bed. She was sittingcrossed legged on the floor at the foot of Jamie’s bed, a habit she had gotteninto whenever Joshua was out late, scanning through Bertrand’s notes. Closingher computer she put it under the pillow of Graham’s bed.

Signaling forGraham to be quiet and stay put, she squatted low and tiptoed out of the room.There was no way it could have been Josh entering the house, no reason forglass to break.

Down the stairsand at the edge of the couch, she stopped and squatted lower with her positionhidden by the large ottoman. She was more angry than nervous and promisedherself she would hurt anyone who dared to come into her house. Whoever thisperson was in her house they were about to die trying to get out. As the figurein black drew near to where she was hiding she quietly waited for his feet toappear to make her move. As soon as both feet were in sight she punched him ashard as she could in the groove between the back of his knee and calf, causingthe pain filled body to fall face forward. Still in her lowered position, shepressed the gun to his temple.

“Move and I killyou.” She threatened between clenched teeth. “What the hell are you doing in myhouse?”

“Honey, I livehere.”

Even through themoans of pain, Penny heard the humor in Joshua’s voice.

“Damn it, Josh.”Penny stood and put the gun in her pocket. She reached down to help him up, buthe refused to grab her hand, preferring to rub the pain in his leg. “What thehell was the glass breaking about?”

“I accidentlyknocked the cookie jar off the cabinet.”

“Accidently?” Shepushed the heel of her hand hard into his shoulder and he lost his balance andfell back on the floor “I’m not buying that, you broke it on purpose. Behonest, admit it.” She smiled down into his face. “You know how you hated thething. Couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get rid of it huh?”

“Well, big greenfrogs with warts have no business holding cookies in their bellies. Gross.” Helaughed and changed the subject. “Anyway, I thought you were going to bewaiting up for me. If I’d known this was how it was going to be, I would haveput on armor.”

“That was alsonearly two hours ago. Where were you?”

Josh reached forher hand and pulled her down to his side.

“I did come homeearlier, but I saw someone had tried to break in the garage.” He nibbled herear lobe and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I can only assume they were tryingto get in the house. Good thing your car was in there are it would have beenvandalized.” He paused to nuzzle the side of her neck. “I went down to thestation to get some extra patrol around here. The feel in the station haschanged. The guys are looking kinda nervous.”

“I bet they are.Probably all wondering if their names are on one of Bertrand’s lists. Bethanycalled earlier; she thinks someone followed her home.” She turned to face Joshand kissed him full on the lips. “Come on, let me help you upstairs.”

Penny stood and reachedfor Josh’s hand again and this time he complied. Limping slightly he used thestair rail as his aid.

“Shit, maybe youshould go and protect her from whoever thinks they are brave enough to fightyou off. I think you broke my leg. Where the hell did you learn such a move?”

“I’m sorry. Fromthe self defense classes I took. Being a CPS worker can be dangerous.”

“Being yourhusband can be dangerous.”

“I’m reallysorry, Josh. We can warm up your water in the tub. The heat will do you a lotof good.”

“Only if you getin with me.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.”

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When One Door Closes

2012-02-12T09:59:00.000-08:00

WHEN ONE DOOR CLOSES

Heartstrings, soul-ties and wishful thinking. Four shorts and a long tale of fortitude through difficult relationships, tugged heartstrings, soul-ties and wishful thinking.

Lesson Between the Lines- A woman ruminates on the lessons learned from an ex lover.

The Battle is Not Between Us-A woman confronts whom she thinks is the person having an affair with her husband.

No Regrets- A rejected wife and mother of eight finally takes a stand and puts an end to the mistreatment she receives from an ex-husband.

The Cooking Class- Franklin Henderson finds his true love behind the recipes in a cooking class.

Betrayal- A young mother, thrown out of her home by her husband and her child taken away finds out love can heal a broken hear.

Free on Amazon:

Excerpt:

The Battle is Not Between Us

A woman is accosted in her home by the wife of a co-worker.

Turning the burner off under the pot of rice and wiping theflour from her hands onto the front of her jeans, Quentin Alexander went toanswer the knock on the apartment’s door.

The simultaneous opening of the door and the power of theunanticipated punch in the face knocked her flat to the floor. Without a pausea body landed on her stomach and she was immediately struggling and blockingblows to her face. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like electricity throughwires. Her heart felt ready to burst from fear and confusion.

Unable to return any of the blows that made contact with herbody Quentin concentrated on blocking the blows to her face by holding her armsin a crossed position. Afraid the stranger beating her would kill her, shewrapped her legs around the lower torso of the person above, pushed her crossedarms into the chest of the assailant and at the same time rolled her body untilshe was on the top of what she now knew to be a woman. The quick roll of theself-defense move had her as superior and she looked into the stunned gaze ofher attacker.

Breathing heavily, Quentin sat on the woman’s legs and heldher straining arms stretched above her head and pinned to the floor.

“Be still because if you hit me again I will kill you. Whothe hell are you?” she questioned.

“I’m Josiah’s wife.”

“What?”

“Don’t try to act like you don’t know.”

“He’s not married. I asked him.”

The woman bucked her body to try and knock Quentin off.

“You are a liar.” She bucked again. “Get the hell off ofme.”

“Hey, you’re a damned maniac. Bustin’ in my house and attackingme. I don’t know what you’ll do next. For all I know you could have a gun. Ishould call the police.” Quentin bounced on the woman’s legs. “Be still.”

Quentin, taking advantage of the power of her position tolift the woman’s head and chest for enough off the floor that the impact of thethrush downward would jar when her head hit the floor, Quentin slammed it downto her second command of be still.

“Hell,” the woman gritted through her teeth. “You’re the onethat has been screwing with my husband.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. Let’s get a couple of facts straight.I’ve only known him three weeks. No sleeping around here.”

Using her hands she pressed her weight into the woman’schest and stomach to aid her in crossing over and standing, Quentin climbedacross the woman, stood. Grabbing the loose ends of her below shoulder lengthhair in one hand she stooped to retrieve the rubber band torn from the strandsin the struggle and started to return it to the ponytail style she had beenwearing. Her hands were shaking too much and she tossed the band on the islandcountertop in the kitchen.

Glaring at the heavily breathing woman still lying on thefloor Quentin took two cokes from the refrigerator and walked back into theliving room. What she wanted to do was bash the can in Josiah’s wife’s face,instead she silently handed the woman one before taking a seat on the couch.

From the corner of her eye Quentin watched as the womanopened the can, took a sip and rubbed her empty hand across her face with shakymovements. Taking a big gulp from her own can, Quentin leaned her head back whilekeeping her glance on the woman from the corner of her eye.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Shanel.”

“I’ll tell you this much, Shanel,” she sat up and pointedher finger at Josiah’s wife. “Before you think about bustin’ into some otherwoman’s home you’d better lose a little weight, take some self-defense classesand then change your mind and kick Josiah’s sorry ass. Hey, don’t get me wrong,I’m not saying you’re fat.” she raised her hands in a defensive mode. “I’m justsayin’ you’re breathing all hard like you’re gonna have a heart attack and Ifyou hadn’t caught me by surprise I could have hurt you.” She looked at thestrands of her hair entangled in the rubber band. “And why the hell did youcome to fight me? Do you see how much of my hair you pulled out?” She tossedthe band towards the woman and it hit her in the face. “This shit right here,” Quentinlifted a hand full of hair to show and then let it fall back down. “Is real andyour pulling it hurt like hell.” Quentin got up quickly, rushed across the roomand examined her face in the mirror. “Oh my God, you better be glad I don’thave any photo shoots for the next two weeks or I would press charges on you.”She looked at the woman searchingly. “You must not have any children.”

“We have two, a two year old girl and a three month oldboy.” She answered after taking another sip from her can.

“Oh, that explains the mushy body. Okay, sorry that was lowof me.” Quentin raised her hands in the air and apologized at the look thewoman gave her. “Well, I can tell you definitely don’t care about yourchildren. You could have been killed. You don’t know me. You don’t know whatkind of weapon I have in this house. I feel like coming over there and slappingsome sense into you. I can’t get over you bustin’ in my house and hitting me inthe face.”

“I can’t get over you screwing with my husband.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not messing with your damnhusband. I met him three weeks ago and went out with him once. He’s not mytype. He said he was not tied to anyone, not married and didn’t have anychildren. This battle you wanna have is not between you and me it belongsbetween you and Josiah. Get off the floor and sit on the chair over there.”

Read more of Quentin's story Download for free. If you like the book please leave a review.

Love & The Women of the Hill | Valentine's Day

2012-02-09T18:23:00.000-08:00

The Voice: Continuing with today's theme of love I've invited the women from The Women of The Hill or better known as residents of 'the hill'. These five friends all share a relationship with the same man. Love comes in all forms. Today Phyliss and three of the ladies are here to share her story with us. Welcome Ladies. I hope you are comfortable with all of the chairs in here.

The three women concur in various degrees as they fidget in the chair.

"Since we have never interviewed any of the ladies from the hill , I'll give a short introduction. Through the writings of her memoirs, Phyllis Price employs flashbacks and subtle weaving of conversations with her friends to explain the presence of Sam as the heavy observance of a jealous lover. Tone'ya Knowes is a divorced mother of two daughters and attending college in the hope of starting a nursing career is the group’s know-it-all. Rayne Moore, the youngest member of the group, is mother of a son and is living with an older man. Frankie Duz, home schools her children baby sits on the side and Jenny Needs is a parent of four children and a teacher in the public schools. At four o’clock in the evening on a daily basis the women get together at Phyllis’ house to watch Oprah, eat snacks and discuss the events of their day. They call it their ‘Stress Bashin’ Session’. The ladies are going to share one of the times the consoled Jenny through an impending and potentially emotionally damaging holiday visit with her family.

Phyliss startes the conversation.

"We've all decided I will do the talking. It all started with Tone'ya telling of a horrible visit with Sam. I remember as if it were yesterday. Tone'ya walked into the room and sat dejectedly in a chair and said....

"Well hell, I'm doing my best and what do I get - Damned brushed off. I found me a job, don't cheer, yet.” She waved our adulation down. "You haven't heard everything. The job would have fit in with just what I need. Do you think Sam gives a damn?" She gave me an apologetic wink because she kew I didn't like cursing in my house. “Nooo, he just put me completely off and took everything away. What the hell am I supposed to do? How am I going to take care of the girls? The damned job is part time. I'll have to pay everyday for transportation to and from school and work. I'll barely be making enough money to bring any home. Hell, the only good thing I have going for me so far is my housing. That's if they don't take that away. I really thought that going to school was a good thing. That shrewd little deceptive bastard knows how to keep a woman tied to him, but he is a liar and I'll be damned if I go crawling back.” Tone'ya leaned back in her seat with a defeated look plastered on her face and sighed deeply.

I'd looked around at my friends. Defeat was definitely smothering the joy out of the room. Each one of them sitting and contemplating their own situations. As unobtrusive as possible, Jenny stood and cleared her throat.

"I'm gonna go in the back and check on the kids.” She announced to no one in particular and walked quickly out of the room.

Jenny was the less vocal member of our group. A substitute teacher in the public schools and we respected her immensely. Maybe it was because she was the oldest of us all. Forty years old. Not that her age would make a difference, because it was hard to tell just how old she was. She was a beautiful forty-year-old woman. I felt that she was a little too thin. She looked really young and dressed very nice. Her dark skin was extremely pretty. Smooth, unmarked and unwrinkled and her hair was always neat. Jenny rarely complained of her financial problems and never mentioned the fact, her husband of twelve years, had recently left her for her younger cousin. The sad droop of her shoulders as she walked out of the room made me leave my place on the floor and follow her into the hallway.

Half way down the hall, I could hear the soft sounds of her smothered crying coming through the closed bathroom door. Putting my ear to the wood, I tapped lightly.

"Jenny? Why don't you let me in so we can talk? Things always seem better when you let it out.”

"I'll be all right in a minute.” Sounds of Jenny trying to get control of herself could be clearly heard. "Just give me a couple of minutes to get myself together. I'm a little overwhelmed, that's all. It seems that things are falling apart all around me. I just don't feel like talking about anything right now.”

"Jenny.” I turned at the sound of Tone'ya's voice coming from behind me and saw that all of the other women had gathered at the door. God, I loved these women. No matter what, they always rallied around.

"Jenny," Tone'ya repeated. “You come on out of that bathroom. If you stay in there and try to smother down your feelings they will just fester and the next thing ya know, we'll be visiting you at the hospital because you have either stroked out or gone crazy. Things can't be that bad. Just think of all you've gone through in the past year. You've handled those things. You can handle this. We'll be right behind you.”

“That's right.”Frankie tapped on the door. “If you want, we'll go to that fool's house and burn it down for you.”

"Yeah," agreed Rayne. “We'll even cut up his tires.”

"I'd rather go to my cousin's house and kill her.”Jenny's muffled voice came through the door.

We all laughed.

"Not a problem.” said Frankie.

"Sounds like a plan to me.” Tone'ya agreed.

"Come on, girl.” I twisted the doorknob. “Come on out. The kids are starting to gather in the hallway. Lookin' at us like we're crazy and wondering what we are all doing out here.”

Tone'ya ushered the children back to the den and refilled their snacks and bottles while we continued to coax Jenny from herself imposed prison. By the time Tone'ya returned, we had accomplished our feat and returned to the living room. Oprah was on, and since it wasn't a show we were particularly interested in, we were staring at the muted screen. Everyone involved in her own thoughts.

Sitting in her favorite spot, Tone'ya swung her shoe and looked from one of us to the other.

"Well?" She asked after a few minutes. “What the hell is the problem? Jenny? Anyone?"

"It's nothing, really. I was just being silly. I guess all of the emotion that was flowing in this room just got to me.”

"Yeah, right" Tone'ya snickered. “You're not the type to run out crying. In the famous words that I heard uttered earlier, fess up, girl.”

"You all will probably think that I am just being stupid.”

"Why in the world would we think something like that?" Rayne asked.

I stretched my legs under the coffee table that sat in front of the couch.”I think you are one of the smartest people in this room. Who else can take care of four little children, two of them still babies and then hold down a job?"

"And to top all of that, you are always in such shining spirits. It's just not like you to be so down. Just tell us the problem and maybe we can help out. I'll even baby sit for you so you can take a night out, if a break is what you need.”

"Sure, I could use a break, but that's not the problem. Easter is coming up this weekend, you know.”

"And?" We questioned in unison.

“Well, I can't stand the idea of spending another holiday with my family.”She lowered her head as if stating the fact made her the worst person in the world.

"Is that all?"

"I don't want to see my mom, either.”Rayne stated emphatically.”All I ever hear is something sarcastic or derogatory about Shamel. The only thing my parents want to know is the date Shamel is going to make an honest woman of me. Or the day he moves out. They keep on telling me I can do better and that Shamey needs a real father. Ugh, now I feel like crying.”Rayne gave a very dramatic presentation of crying and we all laughed.

"I wish it was that easy.” Jenny continued. "When I say family, I mean my entire family. That includes my cousin the little skank. She and my husband were at my Granny's house for Christmas. My own flesh and blood. How in hell they were invited I don't even know. It doesn't seem fair. I'm the one that has been screwed and yet I get treated like the outcast. We're not even divorced, for God's sake. My husband sat in my Granny's house like he and my slutty cousin were doing nothing wrong. They blatantly walked around acting all lovey-dovey. Hugging and kissing all over each other like no one else was in the house. I was miserable, my girls were confused and the entire family was divided. It was the sorriest thing I have ever had to live through. The family didn't know how to react. I'm not going to go through that again. I couldn't believe they had the balls to show up there. Especially not him, not after all he had been telling me.”

"Girl, you know he was probably just trying to get him some draws. You know how men are.” Rayne smirked knowingly.

Jenny: "I should have known, but I guess I just wanted to believe what he was telling me. I had loved him for such a long time. You know how hard it is to let them go. Women were just made to be fools. That bastard had spent the previous week trying to talk me into taking him back. He was always telling me how much he loved and missed being with the children and me. Telling me that we have to be together before the New Year arrived and then he goes and shows up at my Granny's house with my cousin. I started to grab Granny's biggest knife and cut them up like a Christmas ham and feed them to the damned dogs. In the end, I left with my tail between my legs. Took my children's gifts and damn near had to fight him to get out of the house. Men are ignorant. He thought we could all play like one, big happy family and pretend like nothing was wrong. He thought he could screw my cousin one minute and then run to me the next. Freakin' bastard, I still can't believe that my Granny even allowed them in her house. Then I had to remember that the little slut is Granny's favorite and could do no wrong. My granny even took the little cow's side. She said, 'Baby, maybe the two of you weren't right for each other. I think he has the woman that's best suited for him. You just need to just face facts and get on with your life.' Granny even had the nerve to stand over me and pat me on the head like I was a cowering dog when she saw me crying in a corner of the kitchen. That made me so angry. That old lady just doesn't know how lucky she is that I have control over myself. I started to beat that old woman with her own cane.”

We all looked at each other with astonishment plastered on our faces. Frankie burst into a roar of loud laughter, which caused a domino effect and had us all falling over ourselves in merriment.

"Whew, remind me not to ever get you angry.”I gave an expressive shudder.

"Girl, I didn't know you had it in you. You had me sitting here picturing nasty ham on the table and old ladies walking around with cane lumps on their heads.”

"You're so stupid.”Jenny threw a small pillow from the couch at me.”It's not really funny. This is a tragedy."

"Well, I have a plan that will eliminate the stress from all of us, at least for one night..."

The Voice: Well let's talk about that some other day, we've run out of time. Thank you folks for stopping by. Come again anytime.

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Love and the Perfect Solution|Valentine's Day

2012-02-09T18:19:00.000-08:00

In honor of Valentine's day character's from The Perfect Solution are sharing their views on love.
Sometimes you can share the same story, and have different views.... Austin & Catrine are asked 'why did your relationship end?"

AUSTIN-- Sits in the chair, elbows resting on his knees.

Well this is what I remember....

On that night, Catrine called me and invited him over for what she called a 'last get together'. She said she wanted to end the relationship on good terms and so I had gone. The candlelight meal had been delicious as was our 'get together'. I had been lying next to her with my eyes closed, enjoying the fragrance of her perfume, wishing we didn't really have to break-up, and basking in her closeness and the way she was slowly caressing my chest when her words abruptly scattered the mist of self-satisfaction clouding my brain. I remember as if it were yesterday.

"Austin, don't you think it would be nice if we could be like this every night?" she asked softly.

"Oh, Damn!"

"I remember jumping from the bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor and virtually running from the room. Standing in front of the sofa in the living room, I made two futile attempts at pulling on my pants before succeeding. I remember how Catrine looked when she entered into the living room from the bedroom. She had been securing the belt on her robe and as she tossed back her beautiful shoulder length hair with one hand, her small breast had swelled against the silk of the robe, practically begging for my touch. Giving in to the enticement, I stepped towards her and stopped short at the fury bursting from her lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Austin?"

"She'd put her hand on her hips and removed them just as quickly when the lapel of the robe gaped open to expose her nakedness. Closing the gap, she pulled the belt tighter and I smiled at her belated sense of modesty and pulled on my shirt before answering."

"I'm not the one with a problem."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't me."

Austin pauses in his narrative to drag his hand through his hair. "Her voice rose as did the anger in her face and I knew the argument was about to start and I wasn't disappointed."

"I'm not the one that jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. You act like I'm trying to take away your freedom. Like you think I'm going to chain you to a wall or something!"

"Or 'something' is right. You want to tie me to you."

Austin looks towards the interviewer."All I could do was pace the living room angrily and when I got near the sofa, I picked up a small pillow and threw it against the furthest wall in frustration and question her motives."

"What in God's name do you want from me?" I asked her. "You know I work constantly."

"Damn it!"

"Catrine had picked up the pillow and took her time replacing it on the sofa. I watched her as she bent and plumped up the pillow. The delightful shape of her bottom embossed on the silk of the gown made my mind wonder in other directions. It was a wasted trip."

Austin pauses and smiles before continuing .

"I remember how Catrine had turned and saw the look on my face and had stiffened, and looked me over with a slight sneer from feet to head. She stood in front of me as if she believed she could knock me down to her size and then had the nerve to blatantly prod me in my chest in her anger before continuing the argument. She had a lot to say or should I say we had a lot to say...."

"Austin I want you to be faithful to me and if you can't be faithful at least be honest."

"I am honest with you. Is it my fault you think so much of me that you believe every woman that sees me, wants me?"

Catrine scoffed in amusement."You are so full of yourself, Austin. Do you honestly think you mean so much to me that I have a need to tie you to my side?"

"Hell, yes. Girl you know you love me and you'll love me forever."

"I can get over it."

"Yeah right I believe that as much as I believe there’s a man in the moon. I don't know how I can be more honest. I tell you my job schedule. You know where I am all of the time. My life is not my own. When would I have time to run around on you? When I am not at work, I am with you. It's up to you whether or not you believe me. I think the best solution for us is to be apart."

"Austin, I can love you for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean I have to be a fool for you. You can't give me a clear reason why you won't live here with me and that keeps me from believing you. We don't even have to live here. If you worry because the townhouse is mine, I could move in with you even though this place is larger. Or we can buy something else. We don't have to live here."

Austin sighs deeply and leans towards the interviewer. "Listen, all I can say is this, the argument became much more heated with each one of us saying hurtful things until I stormed out of the apartment and didn't her from her again for four years. The day I was hauled into the police station as a suspect in the kidnapping of a child I never knew I had. "

CATRINE-- Catrine walks into interview room and sits in the chair.

"Okay since this is Valentine's day I'm going to let myself go to a dark place in my life. Just give me a moment."

Leaning her head on the backrest of the chair, she took deep breaths and concentrated on remembering the last day that she and Austin had spent together. She had purposely not let herself dwell on thoughts of Austin because she knew that deep inside she still cared very much for him. She and Austin had deliberately said some of the cruelest things to one another.

Before the breakup, the arguments had been trivial, but after a very heated confrontation, she and Austin had decided to call it quits. She could remember the conversation as if it were being reenacted in front of her. Even after all most four years the remembered pain felt as if it were happening at that very moment. Taking a deep breath and keeping her eyes shut she began her story.

"Okay, as I remember Austin had been standing in front of the very sofa where she was now sitting, opening and closing his hands and breathing so hard I thought he would lose control of himself and hit me. He had frightened me with the stillness of his body and the glaring looks he kept throwing at me. I had never seen him that furious, but then again, I was experiencing something I had never felt myself. The huge uncontrollable rage that had been engulfing me made me want to explode. And so I sat on the sofa tapping my feet in irritation and bemoaning the way the night was ending.

In my imagination it should have been a magical affair. A definite liberation from the tensions and arguments we had been having throughout the previous two months. We had eaten a lovely dinner, cuddled, talked, made love and all of a sudden we were slipping into the same old mode. Pacing the room and having another one of our stupid arguments.

Catrine was barely able to keep myself from running up to Austin and punching the hell out of his face as I sat and watched him angrily pace the room. His six foot-three inch stride was continually making short work of the width of the entire room. He looked like an animal trapped in a small cage. Stopping in front of the sofa, he bent and yanked a small pillow from its resting place on the sofa and thrown it angrily towards the wall before shouting at me.

"What in God's name do you want from me, Catrine?" He turned to face her.

"I remember stooping, to retrieve the pillow and replacing it on the sofa before getting all in his face or as near face to face with him as my foot shorter frame would allow and I poked his chest hard with my index finger as I stressed every word.

"I want you to be faithful to me and if not faithful, at least be honest."

"Honest about what? What else can I tell you? How honest can I be to a woman that is so paranoid that nothing I say makes a difference to her? You know how I work. I'

m a surgeon for Christ's sake." He shook his head in thought of the futility of the situation. "My life is not my own." He sighed irritably. "I do not have time to go running after some other woman. I tell you I have been seeing no one else and you choose not to believe me."

"Of course I don't believe you. How can I? You won’t commit yourself to me, or this relationship. We’ve been seeing each other for almost a year and a half, I suggest that you move in here and you turn cold. What is the big deal anyway? This apartment is larger than yours and you act like you're comfortable while you are here. Maybe you just have a problem being here with me."

"That's not it at all."

"Well, make me understand, Austin. Tell me what I’m doing wrong. For the past two weeks you’ve found it extremely hard to be civil to me. You barely talk to me and you only touch me during sex. What's the problem? Do you think I want your money? I'm not asking for you to take care of me, I can take care of myself. I have a great paying job and can pay my own bills. I just thought that it would be perfect to go to sleep with my arms around you and then wake up with you next to me in the mornings. I had stupidly thought that you felt the same."

"That's bull and you know it."

Austin slammed his fist on the table, causing a flower vase to fall and spew its contents of water and dead leaves across the table and onto the floor. Its muddy substance staining the rose colored carpet.I was so pissed I gave him a shove in the chest and then had the nerves enough to order him to clean it like I thought I was his mom or something and he laughed at me.

"You do it. And if you know what's good for you, you would back your short little tail up."

"Am I supposed to be afraid of you?"

Catrine looks towards the interviewer who is jotting down notes. "I moved back a bit, hands on hips and measured his length with her eyes. He just ignored the anger in my face, stepped closer and tapped me on the forehead with the tip of his pointer finger. I wanted to hurt him but all he did was laughing when I angrily slapped at his hand and missed."

"Yes," he continued talking. "I don't know what makes you think you can run my life. You want total control of me. You want to know my every coming and going. You are worse than my mother. I can't live with that."

"You are one selfish bastard, Austin. You want me to save myself for only you while you go out and share yourself with the masses. So I’m just going to tell you this one time, from now on I’m out to please myself. I no longer want you in my life."

"You mean to tell me, you are going to stand there and break up a terrific relationship because I won't move in here with you?"

"Hell, yes and you know as well as I that it doesn't just have to deal with you moving in here."

"Right, I wouldn’t bet on it"

"Yeah, right I have the feeling that you only want me for sex."

"Wait a minute. Don't go there. I can get sex anywhere, any time. Don't think there is none better than you."

"You know I'm better than ice cream."

She looked at Austin with a beguiling smile and her hands on her hips. He laughed out loud, forgetting for a moment that they were in the middle of an argument. He shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"You forget that ice cream comes in a variety of flavors. Not that I want to try any." he raised his hands in defense. "I think you need help Catrine."

"Not to deal with you." I looked him up and down.

"To be able to deal with life, you're delusional. I know a couple of psychiatrists that may be able to help you. No, just listen," he held up his hand to silence me. "I am not about to get in another argument with you. If you want to give up something that could be the best thing you ever have in your life, it's your choice."

"It's you that's throwing me away. Why in God's name would I want to be with someone that just wants to fu…?"

"Don't say it." He grabbed her hands and held them within his own. "You now I hate that word especially when you use it in that context. It sounds like we are just animals taking a random plunge. You mean more to me than that. It means a lot to me that you thought me worthy to be your first lover, but I don't want to live with you."

"I yanked my her hands from his grip, and turned my back on him, wiped my tears and smoothed my hair before turning back to face him. I just knew whatever I said that this would be the end. Unable to hold his gaze I looked at my feet and pushed my hands into the pockets of my robe before taking another deep calming breath."

"You know Austin I love you to death. I would rather be with no one else but you," I stepped back as he stepped forward. "But I cannot go on the way we have been. We argue all of the time lately and I can't deal with it. The best thing we could probably do for each other would be to not see each other again."

"If that is the way you see it, then this will be your choice. Just remember that you are the one making this decision for us."

Catrine looked towards interviewer. "I lost it then and my rage just erupted."

"How can you say that? I am not making the decision to get rid of you. I want you and you have your own reasons for your decisions. They just don't happen to flow with mine. I will not sit here and continue to pretend that things can work between the two of us when I know in my heart that you don't care for me. So, take your damn little duffel bag and get the hell out of my house!"

"I picked up the small red bag that he always used when he stayed overnight and threw it towards him and he caught it in mid-air before crossing in front of me and walking to the door."

"All right, I will go with pleasure. I had already tired of your little cling-on attitude and had wanted to call it quits. Just remember, it is not me that's ruining what we had, it is you. You just have the hots for some other guy and can't be honest about it. I have always believed that you have the potential to be one terrific bitch and now I know that I am right."

"If I do, it's you who have taught me. I learned from the master slut."

"You just can't wait to drop me. Don't call me when things start to fall on your head."

"I will never call you for anything. This is the last time you will ever hear from me!"

Catrine stands and smooths her dress. "Listen, I can't do this anymore." She wipes a tear from her face. "Let's call this interview over." She leaves the room.

http://amzn.to/wade-inbooks

A Synopsis of America's True History

2011-11-11T13:41:00.000-08:00

The following words are the bare facts of America's History, all Beads included. A fantastic vehicle to honoring America and her veterans.

Hiawatha fought for freedom of his people, Lonnie Johnson invented, Dalip Singh Saund governed, Rev. Rick Warren blessed, Arpad G. C Gerster educated, Antonio Meucci discovered, Will.i.am entertained, Minoru Yamasaki designed, and Amadeo Peter Giannini owned a business.

From the naming of the country by Martin Waldseemuller to the elimination of racial discrimination to the glorious day of racial, political and social unification, Beads on a String is America’s first interracial history book. It is written as an interactive, multimedia page turning ebook. All the reader has to do is click on the bolded words and they will be taken to the web link from which the short passage of biography or video was taken.

Beads on a String-America's Racially Intertwined Biographical History

This is a desktop version with page turning effects and videos embedded. Download it & love it.

SYNOPSIS

THE INTRODUCTION to the novel BEADS ON A STRING-AMERICA’S RACIALLY INTERTWINED BIOGRAPHICAL HISTORY consists of 8 pages and is dedicated to explaining the reason and need for America’s first and only interracial history book and begins with a quote on the first page from the author Ey Wade titled Beads on a String.

“I feel that we as Americans are all equal and held together by a common thread. Like a treasured beaded necklace of different colors held together on a string, we are held together by our necessities and our circumstances and our humanity. Every color helps to make the necklace beautiful. We can never be a totally separate entity! Americans of all colors are so integrated that if we hurt one, we hurt all. Just like that necklace of treasured beads, leave one out and the gap is seen. Break the chain and many of us are lost.”

The section continues with A. Philip Randolph’s quote from Salvation for a Race “Salvation for a race, nation or class must come from within. Freedom is never given; it is won” before showing the purpose for the history book. The author states the fact she as a homeschooling parent and her youngest daughter were discussing the overuse of the hyphenation and the inability to find contributions of all races to America’s history in one book and how they decided to make their own. The author also goes on to say….

“What is a better way, or so it seemed to us to celebrate America and it's freedoms than with a system established by the people with or without its faults and illusions? We chose to use Wikipedia as our resource because it was established by the people. People with interest in America's history, proud of their own heritage and who believed enough in themselves to gather and write about the people, organizations, and all fractions of society that helped to make America the great nation it has become. We believe in America and whenever We had doubt about the information we did go and check the information out at other sources and found Wikipedia to be pretty much correct on more information than not and the biggest factor was that it was so easy to use. Our main focus is to try and eliminate the division of a great nation by a single line, the hyphenation. Why do we keep the line of separation as a constant reminder of our racial differences? That hyphenation continues to put a space between the races that are naturally born and the races that have chosen to become Americans. Americans should drop the hyphen and pull together and teach our children that every bead has a purpose and should be celebrated. Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History has chosen not to be about a certain color, but about a certain Nation.”

The section ends with a page break and quote from Carlos Bulosan’s “America is in the Heart”

“We in America understand the many imperfections of democracy and the malignant disease corroding its very heart. We must be united in the effort to make an America in which our people can find happiness. It is a great wrong that anyone in America, whether he be brown or white, should be illiterate or hungry or miserable.”

CHAPTER 1 is titled AMERICA. It begins on pages 9-12 with a quote from John Henrik Clarke’s All History is a Current Event.

“The events which transpired five thousand years ago; Five years ago or five minutes ago, have determined what will happen five minutes from now; five years from now or five thousand years from now."

Within this chapter the myth of Columbus discovering America and the timeline of immigration in the U.S. is explored. The first thing you see in this segment is a picture of the Statute of Liberty and a quote by Emma Lazarus from the New Colossus which begins with the words "Give me your tired, your poor….” In our quest to learn about America's colorful history and to ascertain the inclusion of the contributions from every race that has made America the great nation it is, our biggest wonder was how this great country received its name. Why the great America wasn't called 'Columbus'? In 1507 the map maker Martin Waldseemuller named North and South America, after Amerigo Vespucci. This chapter also gives a short biography on Vespucci.

The phrase "united States of America" was first used officially in the Declaration of Independence, adopted on July 4, 1776. On November 15, 1777, the Second Continental Congress adopted the Articles of Confederation, the first of which stated "The Stile of this Confederacy shall be 'The United States of America.'" The name was originally proposed by Thomas Paine. For a while the Americas were also known as Columbia, after Columbus, prompting the name District of Columbia for the land set aside as the U.S. capital. Columbia remained a popular name for the United States until the early 20th century. America was so named after Amerigo Vespucci born March 9, 1451 in Florence, Italy. He was an Italian merchant, explorer and cartographer. Mundus Novus ("New World") was a Latin translation of a lost Italian letter sent from Lisbon to Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici. It describes a voyage to South America in 1501-1502. It was a letter in Italian addressed to Piero Soderini. Printed in 1504 or 1505, it claimed to be an account of four voyages to the Americas made by Vespucci between 1497 and 1504. It was the publication and widespread circulation of the letters by Amerigo Vespucci that led Martin Waldseemüller to name the new continent America on his world map of 1507 in Lorraine. Along with placing the name on the map Waldseemüller also published Vespucci's accounts of his travels in a book. Vespucci used a Latinized form of his name, Americus Vespucius, in his Latin writings, which Waldseemüller used as a base for the new name, taking the feminine form America. The United States of America (also known as the United States, the U.S., the U.S.A., the U.S. of A., the States and America) is a country in North America that extends from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean and shares land borders with Canada and Mexico and a sea border with Russia and The Bahamas. The United States is a federal republic, with its capital in Washington, D.C. The United States of America consists of 50 states and one federal district; it also has numerous overseas territories.

At first, the country was open to anyone wishing to make a new start. Many came to America to escape war, poverty, famine, or religious persecution. Some came seeking fortune and others were brought against their will to work as slaves. These and other factors resulted in a large-scale influx of immigrants to the United States from around the world. Before 1882 anyone wishing to start a new life was allowed to settle in the United States, but with the huge growth of the population the federal government decided a monitoring system was needed.
In 1891, as part of the U.S. Treasury Department, the Office of Immigration was created and given authority over naturalization and moved to the U.S. Justice Department. (Today it is known as the Immigration and Naturalization Service.) In the same year, paupers, polygamists, the insane, and persons with contagious diseases were not allowed to enter the United States. 1892 Ellis Island opened. Between 1892 and 1953, more than 12 million immigrants were processed at this one facility. Early immigration laws aimed to preserve the racial, religious, and ethnic composition of the United States, which was then largely European. The first immigration laws were aimed at nonwhites. This chapter ends by showing examples of bindings put on entering immigrants and a page break and words written by John Hope Franklin "My challenge was to weave into the fabric of American history enough of the presence of blacks so that the story of the United States could be told adequately and fairly."

I Pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands. One nation under God, Indivisible, with liberty and justice for ALL.

CHAPTER TWO- Titled Slavery and Discrimination in America is subtitled LABEL MY "RACE" HUMAN. The page begins with the stanza of The Pledge of Allegiance placed above the title of the chapter. This chapter discusses slavery, the use by states of Black Codes, and discrimination of all races that were not "free, white and twenty-one". It ends the words from Charles Evan Hughes Chief Justice U.S. Supreme Court, 1930-1941.

It is amazing how the mere words of another person can effect and change the course of history, and the wealth, health and well being of another. Mere words, whether based on truth, personal beliefs or delusions can make or break a world, a nation, a life. Mere words. The different physical traits of African-Americans and Indians became markers or symbols of their status differences. The concept of race was developed and established by a study and thesis paper that was written by Johann Friedrich Blumenbach. Blumenbach who was born May 11, 1752 was a German physiologist and anthropologist. His thesis paper written about the difference in people and titled On the Natural Varieties of Mankind was considered on of the most influential papers of his time and basically established the way different races are seen in the world today. The separation of the people by race was established in order to institute the separation by social and economic differences. The idea of the Caucasian race to be superior to other races has been spread across the entire world. How people have been accepted and treated within the context of a given society or culture has a direct impact on how they perform in that society. Racial beliefs constitute myths about the diversity in the human species and about the abilities and behavior of people placed into "racial" categories. The myths combined the perception of behavior and physical features together in the public mind, and blocked the ability to understand behavior is not a genetic determination of a person. Temperaments, dispositions, and personalities, regardless of genetic, are developed by the life we live.

The idea of race in America was used as a way for the proponents of slavery to continue using humans as free labor, to keep the poor poor and make the rich richer while integrating the idea in the mind of the Caucasian that their 'race' was superior to that of the Indians and the African. Only society makes a difference between people. There is nothing in the law of nature that makes one color of person superior to another despite the fact that cultural differences, language barrier, and the color of skin all fused together to form a case that was set against another group of people. Years later Blumenbach wanted to change is opinions after falling in love with a woman of color.

The history of slavery in the United States began soon after Europeans first settled in the area (and so even before the founding of the United States), and officially ended with the ratification of the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865. Laws that came to be known collectively as the Black codes, ended officially in 2000. "What replaced the Black Codes, Leon F. Litwack wrote, "was not racial integration but an informal code of exclusion and discrimination."
No matter how great the nation of America is, it is a known fact it would not be the metropolis it is now without the use of chattel slaves or other kinds of unfree laborers, such as indentured servants. This used and often mistreated part of society whether descendants from native Americans, Africans, Chinese or Japanese and through strength and determination contributed enormously to our economic, scientific and physical growth.

"You may think that the Constitution is your security-it is nothing but a piece of paper. You may think that the statutes are your security-they are nothing but words in a book. You may think that elaborate mechanism of government is your security-it is nothing at all, unless you have sound and uncorrupted public opinion to give life to your Constitution, to give vitality to your statutes, to make efficient your government machinery." Charles Evan Hughes Chief Justice U.S. Supreme Court, 1930-1941

VOICES OF CHANGE

There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them are without signification.1 Corinthians 14:10

CHAPTER THREE brings forth some of the organizations that were established to fight for the rights that were guaranteed to America’s citizens.

Civil Rights

In the United States, Civil Rights are the rights that a nation's inhabitants enjoy by law. The term is broader than "political rights," which refer only to rights devolving from the franchise and are held usually only by a citizen, and unlike "natural rights," civil rights have a legal as well as a philosophical basis. In the United States civil rights are usually thought of in terms of the specific rights guaranteed in the Constitution: freedom of religion, of speech, and of the press, and the rights to due process of law and to equal protection under the law.

The civil-rights movement, led especially by Martin Luther King, Jr., in the late 1950s and 60s, and the executive leadership provided by President Lyndon B. Johnson, encouraged the passage of the most comprehensive civil-rights legislation to date, the Civil Rights Act of 1964; it prohibited discrimination for reason of color, race, religion, or national origin in places of public accommodation covered by interstate commerce, i.e., restaurants, hotels, motels, and theaters.
Besides dealing with the desegregation of public schools, the act, in Title VII, forbade discrimination in employment. Title VII also prohibited discrimination on the basis of sex. In 1965 the Voting Rights Act was passed, which placed federal observers at polls to ensure equal voting rights. The Civil Rights Act of 1968 dealt with housing and real estate discrimination. In addition to congressional action on civil rights, there was action by other branches of the government. The most notable of these were the Supreme Court decisions in 1954 and 1955 declaring racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional and the court's rulings in 1955 banning segregation in publicly financed parks, playgrounds, and golf courses. In the 1960s women began to organize around the issue of their civil rights.

Organizations--

Chinese American Citizens Alliance (CACA) is a Chinese American political organization founded in 1895 in San Francisco, California to secure equal rights for Americans of Chinese ancestry.
The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, pronounced "snick") was one of the principal organizations of the American Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s. It was founded to help organize the student sit-ins, to fight segregation in restaurants and other public areas.
Greensboro Four civil rights activists. On Feb. 1, 1960 four black freshmen at North Carolina A&T State University, Franklin McCain, Joseph McNeil, Ezell Blair, Jr., and David Richmond, took seats at the segregated lunch counter of F. W. Woolworth's in Greensboro, N.C. The four have become icons of the civil rights movement.
Black Panthers, U.S. African-American militant party, founded (1966) in Oakland, Calif., by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale. Originally espousing violent revolution as the only means of achieving black
American Indian Movement (AIM) spearheaded in 1969 was co-founded by Anishinaabe Dennis Banks established to protect the traditional ways of Indian people and to engage in legal cases protecting treaty rights of The American Indian

CHAPTER FOUR- titled Biographies-Notable Contributors to America's Growth highlights in biographical form the ‘beads’ that form our nation. Each individual that helped America become a great nation, no matter the race, creed, political or professional stance is acknowledge within this chapter. It is written in single spaced form arranged by the century, areas of their focus and date of birth of each contributor. The chapter covers individuals from
Activism and Abolitionism
Government Leaders
Religious Leaders
Scholars and Educators
Inventors/ Science
Artists, Architects, Designers.
Authors and Publishers
Business
Sports to
Film, Television, Entertainment, and the Media.

Each segment begins with a quote from someone in the particular field of study. The chapter ends with a more extensive list which includes those who were not lauded with a short biography. The book ends with a bibliography containing the links to the web page in which to find the individual and with examples of the Black Codes that were used against ex-slaves in America. In the eBook a click of the mouse on the bolded name anywhere within the book will take you directly to the web page. The traditional eBook also contains videos such as:

A Change Has Come
Martin Luther King
Yes We Can
Lift Every Voice
We Shall Over Come
Why We Are Proud
We Are the Ones
The Dreams of Generations
The Inventor of the Supersoaker
Rev. Rick Warren
From Martin to Obama
It's a New Day

If you are interested in reviewing this book go here:

http://bit.ly/ReviewThis

Reviews and Trailers
First interview with the author Ey Wade
Second Interview with the author
What I Want for Jett
Videos from inside the book
Beads on a String-America's Racially Intertwined Biographical History
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What do you believe? Download the preview

How Blatant Can You Be? I'm Begging for Reviews

2011-10-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

If anyone is willing to read and review, I'm willing to do the same. I can give free code through Smashwords or give a PDF. Are there any Indie souls out there searching (as I am) for reviews for their books? So far I have garnered a few very good reviews, but can always use more. As I am sure you can. I am willing to give honest reviews for an exchange of the same. Read excerpts (from each book pictured) below and let's get it started. If you are willing to swap reviews, leave your response in the comments. Thanks.

I'm as proud as any parent with a house full of beautiful, talented children. I want to brag on their abilities and share their accomplishments.

Books by Ey Wade are found for the Apple Products: iTunes (http://bit.ly/EyinApple) and for Kindle (http://amzn.to/wade-inbooks)
( http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/writerswrite ), Smashwords , Sony, ( http://bit.ly/EyWade-sony) Kobo (http://bit.ly/EyWade-kobo ), and Nook (http://bit.ly/EyWade-BN ).

These are also places I am willing to post reviews. Other places included are Goodreads, Wade-Into Book reviews (my blog http://wade-intobookreviews.blogspot.com/). If you have a trailer for your book I will post it on my Video Blog site
( http://wade-inbooktrailers.blogspot.com/)

Without further ado, let's get to it.

D.N.A.

a YA novel.

"....This book's for you if you love wrenching personal trials, emotional highs and lows, terrific descriptions of a young woman's movement through life and her internal dialogues, and beautiful writing. Full of extraordinary events, DNA will keep you turning pages until the very end." Carolyn Chambers Clark

"....This was beautifully written by Ey, mostly in flashbacks. Debney is a well-conceived character with spunk and intelligence, and despite the disinterest and lack of love from her mother, or maybe because of it, she is a warm and selfless character. Her closest friends, although diverse in character are likeable and their mixed ethnicity bonds them tightly. All the characters in this book were well-drawn, the story is nicely paced and the result is a delightful YA novel"Beeshon

DESCRIPTION: Debney Nichole Armstrong thought she knew everything about her family. She knew her dad worked hard at everything, except building a relationship with his family. She knew her younger brothers were typical little kids, and she knew without doubt, her mother cared nothing for her first born and only daughter. But what she hadn’t known was, DNA could ruin your life.

Eighteen year old Debney Nichole Armstrong, found out about her parents’ and little brothers’ death during the night of her eighteenth birthday party. Yes, sometimes relationships in families end tragically. People leave; parents die, and lives change, but does it all have to bring out the skeletons in the closet?

After one of her reoccurring bitter arguments with her mother, Debney is left home alone while her family goes away on summer vacation. In the chaos of a romantic (with her long time crush) dinner turned teen party, she learns of the death of her family. What she really needed to know was what role did her mother contribute to the ‘accident’? Where were the bodies of her ten year old twin brothers? Who is the strange man in her mother’s journals, and who is the father of the child she now carries? No matter what the answers are, Debney knows, nothing will ever be the same.

EXCERPT:

i. Sometimes Life Sucks

Debney clasped the rail to the stairs tightly, slowed her steps in an effort to control her odd side to side waddling movements, and hoped to forestall the possibility of losing her balance and falling over. No mean feat considering the large backpack pressing into her side weighed more than ten pounds and the huge odd shape of her near nine month pregnancy caused her to lean dangerously forward.

Looking down and into the hallway, she met the animated gaze of more than two dozen pair of eyes. It was easy to see that the giggling groups of students standing and gawking around their lockers were getting a kick out of her precarious situation, none were worried about her.

Straightening her shoulders and tightening her jaw she urged herself to show confidence. One stupid mistake and they would all laugh and she would have to spend the rest of the day trying to live with an added humiliation. It would be the last twang on her already bruised nerves, and she knew she would probably lose all of her self control.

Releasing each shaky breath, she exhaled slowly with each successful step she took. If she did fall,it would be her third tumble within one week and obviously not a good thing for her or the baby, but a definite show of entertainment for the uncouth high school ensemble. The pain from the fall she knew she would get over, but the embarrassment and the ridicule would be way too hard to swallow. Debney held the rail tighter and continued moving cautiously, she refused to let herself be the brunt of their humor once again.

"Fat pig on the stairs." chortled one as she elbowed Debney in the side.

"Girl roll on down and get out the way." Another laughed loudly.

"Yeah you're blocking everybody."

“They shouldn’t allow people like you in here, anyway. What kind of model are you for the freshman? A stupid girl, that sleeps around and then doesn’t have the sense to use protection, idiot.” The fourth turned and sneered at Debney as she bounced down the stairs after her friends.

Breathing in deeply, Debney let the long fall of her hair hide the mixture of fear and anger in her face, while provided her with a curtain to shield her emotions behind; the small gesture pulled in check her urge to retaliate. What she really wanted to do was grab them, one at a time, slit their throats and then throw them down the stairs. The visualization of their bodies slamming against the lockers and exploding amused her. She smiled slightly, as she imagined herself standing on the stairs, hands on hips, big belly bouncing while she laughed loudly like a raving maniac. And it would be their faults for driving her to insanity. The juvenile hate filled mass campaign the students of King’s Multicultural High School had organized to do her harm became more and more evident as her days to give birth grew shorter. It was no longer a laughing matter. True, she may have unwittingly caused some of the animosity to be pointed towards her, but endangering the life of an innocent baby was uncalled for.

The sudden flurry of independent movement of her shirt drew her attention from the chaos and noise around her to the presence of turmoil within. The baby’s hearty kicks seemed to mirror the anger burning through her veins. Resting her palm on the freakishly rolling inch of flesh under her shirt she whispered quiet words of comfort. Here she was nearly ready to give birth and she still hadn’t gotten used to the dance movements going on inside of her body. The small kick of the child against her ribs was the only hold to her restraint and sanity.

“Are you okay?”

Lifting her head and lowering it just as quickly when her gaze smacked straight into the concerned eyes of Giante’ DeVries, Debney sighed and cursed under her breath irritably. Not bothering to answer she continued on her measured course down, the action successfully causing him to move with her.

Giante’ walked the stairs backward and directly in front of her. His left hand sliding unhurriedly down the rail with the arm held stiffly, successfully giving the impression he would protect her from falling. His hands were huge, smooth and long fingered. And from what she tried hard not to remember, extremely gentle.

She felt the heat rise in her face as quickly as the shame entered her thoughts. Above all the others, she remembered him. Every thought she ever had of him caused her to ridicule herself. If the imminent danger of falling wasn’t weighing heavily on her mind she would have closed her eyes to avoid the compassion in his.

“You know it wouldn’t hurt you to pretend you know me, Debney. Hell we’ve spent every summer together for as long as I can remember. I’m just worried about you Deb.” His voice softened as he whispered the last part.

“I’m fine.”

Her voice came out in little more than a whisper. It had been days since anyone had spoken to her. Weeks if you subtracted the cruel, sarcastic tones of voices. She quickened her steps, trying to brush past him as soon as her feet hit solid ground but he as usual blocked her path.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. What with football practice and Spring Break, I haven’t had time to roam the halls, but I’ve missed you.” He bent down a little to try and see her face through the curtain of her thick dark hair.

His smile was encouraging and the only thing she could see of his face without boldly throwing her head back. No way would she be doing that, she just didn’t feel brave enough to follow through. The last time she let her emotions rule her actions all hell had fallen into her life. She kept her head down and watched her hands gently rubbing her stomach as she encouraged herself to respond.

“That’s fine. Giante' it didn't matter. Everything has been the same.” She sucked in a deep breath and tried to go around him, but was forestalled by his evasive movements. “Can you get out of the way? I have things I need to do before the bell rings.”

“Why do you always run from me, Debney?”

Closing her eyes briefly, Debney sighed deeply. She just didn’t have time for an interrogation. She knew anything she did out of her ordinary habit of scurrying through the crowd would draw unwanted attention in her direction. Standing still in the middle of the hallway was something she avoided as much as possible. When it came to finding a victim for harassment she was the biggest target and she preferred to be a moving one. Peering around his shoulder at the students in the hallway she took a steadying breath. Maybe if she let him have a few moments of conversation he would hurry and move and she would be free to go on her way.

Pressured beyond belief knowing she had a short space of time to get through the hallway to the restroom and yet not willing to give him access to such information, she fiend irritation, executed her best wiggling neck in the current attitudal broken hinged fashion, she answered louder than necessary.

“Why do you always stand in my way, Giant?” Her irritation at being confronted plainly showing.

"You know I don't like you calling me that, Deb."

Of course she knew. He had been teased with the nickname from the third grade onward. Ever since kindergarten he’d been shoulders and head taller than the other boys his age and after the summer of their fifth grade year he’d outgrown those same boys by another nine inches.

Tossing her head back to clear the hair from her face she commanded herself to look him boldly in the eyes, and immediately disobeyed. At almost seven feet tall, Giante’ looked like a god. A tall muscular well built beautiful Asian god and she loved him. A fact he seemed unaware of.

Looking around anywhere and everywhere but in his face, she noticed the movements and shuffling of the other students had practically stopped and the volume in the hallway lowered as it filled with more bodies. The sudden drop in the decibel of noise was a blatant sign of interest in the couple’s conversation. It was obvious the crowd of students were either pretending to retrieve articles from their lockers or outright listening to their discussion. She lowered her voice.

“I’m sorry, Giante’. I didn’t mean to shout or call you that. My last class was a nightmare and I really have something I need to do before the next one. Listen….” she grabbed the strap of her sagging backpack in preparation to swing it to her other side and he yanked it from her hand. The action caused her to lean forward precariously, only to be saved from falling by him stepping forward and bearing her weight in his arms. Moving quickly she righted herself and stepped back a few paces. Using both hands to brush the hair from her face she sighed and wiggled her shoulders in relief at the momentary removal of the added weight.

“Are you supposed to be carrying things this heavy?” Giante’ raised the bag up and down testing its weight. “It’s as big as your stomach and probably heavier than you are.”

“Obviously you know nothing about social graces when it comes to talking to pregnant women.” She reached for her bag and he switched it to his other hand and higher than her reach. “Or should I say women in general.”

She saw the heat rise in his face and felt ashamed again for causing him embarrassment. He used to be one of her best friends, one of the last ones to stand by her side, and all she could do whenever they met was ‘cause him shame.

“You know what, Giante'? Don’t worry about the size of my stomach. You should mind your own damned business.”

“Should you even be walking downstairs in your condition? Isn’t the baby due soon?” He ignored her small tirade, the concern for her welfare plainly seen through the softness of his eyes. “You should ask your mom….”

Debney interrupted his reprimand angrily. Moving without thought she stepped towards him and in less than a second she was so close to Giante’ that their stomachs touched. His immediate step backwards spoke volumes to his revulsion of the contact and she lost it. In her anger she poked his chest with the nail of her pointer finger.

“You know what; you should mind your own business and quit worrying about me. And just what should I ask my mom, Giante’? Ask her if she misses me? Ask her if she ever gave a crap about me? Ask her what she thinks of her only daughter being pregnant? If she’s glad she gets to spend eternity away from me? Or should I just ask her how she feels being dead?”

Stunned at voicing the questions she only repeated to herself when she was alone at night, Debney covered her mouth with her hands and stared at the hurt, mortified look on Giant’s face. She regretted hurting him, but she just didn’t have the energy to coddle anyone. All she wanted was to be left alone.

Before he could answer, a crowd of his football buddies and their cheerleader girlfriends surrounded and maneuvered themselves between the couple, successfully separating them. The interruption felt like a godsend and Debney decided to take the gift and slip away. Knowing it wouldn’t be long before their inane conversation would be directed towards her with derivative criticism, Debney reached for her bag, again, Giante’ held it out of her reach.

Taking Giante’s actions as a sign to continue the daily ritual of mocking and ridicule, Roody the jock nearest to Debney, jumped back as if it were detrimental to avoid any physical contact from her. He brushed his hands across his shoulders and down his clothes. His nose turned up in disgust.

"Man Giante' you need to stay away from DNA." He uttered the now hated acronym made from the initials of her name.

Looking around the group of laughing mocking teens, Debney admonished herself for having stood still and out in the open for far too long. Like a deer in a pit of lions she knew she had left herself vulnerable and open for attack. As usual she was stared at, criticized, and her stomach poked.

“You weren’t saying that when you were at my house.” Debney returned Roody’s look with equal disdain and stepped up to him. “I’m the one who should be wiping the disgust away.” Looking him up and down Debney turned her back and dismissed him from her mind. “High school is too damned typical and cliché. You guys need to grow up.”

“Hey if I knew I was going to be used like a piece of meat at that party,” Roody continued. “I would have stayed home.”

Debney scoffed at the rebuke and fruitlessly reached for her bag again. Giante’ ignored her frustrated glare and reached for her hand. Before their fingers touched they were separated again by the movements of the group.

"Yeah, Giante, you better stay away from her. From all of the guys I heard she slept with that baby can belong to any male in this school." Fabeola the head cheerleader poked the kicking twitching mound. “Eww and it moves.” She jumped back screeching and they all laughed.

“Hey, your momma named you right, DNA.” Another member of the team jumped into the conversation. “You’re a walking advertisement for the paternity test. Why don’t you go on that TV show, what’s it called?” He turned to the crowd in the hallway and they all shouted I’m Not Your Baby Daddy with loud laughter and cat calls before he turned back to her with pointed finger and continued talking. “You can find out who that baby’s daddy is for free. And that way you can scratch my name off the list.”

Horrified at the suggestion and the burst of guffaws and snickering laughter, Debney was stunned into silence. One of the three cheerleaders started pointing at the male students milling in the hallway one at a time. She twirled around slowly until she had pointed in all directions.

"You the daddy, and you the daddy, and you....”

Taking advantage of his divided attention Debney grabbed her bag from Giante’s loose grip and stomped away as quickly as possible. She wasn’t quick enough to avoid the laughter and the now familiar taunt which followed her and become the chant whenever she entered a room. DNA go away. Don’t spread your germs this a-way. If they only knew how much she wished she could get away from the life she was living, they would realize their chant was useless.

Her only wish at the moment was to get into the restroom and behind the doors of a stall before she broke down and cried. But as usual it wasn’t her luck. The girls who were at the sink washing their hands when she entered the room rushed back into empty stalls and those about to exit stalls stepped back in, their uniformed laughter and cheering her undoing. Those four were the main pain to her existence.

Where she had walked in the restroom feeling pity for her situation and hanging on the verge of tears, she now felt blinding rage. For nearly nine months she’d put up with their ignorant picks, taunts and their meanness as a deserved punishment for wishing her family dead. What she had failed to realize was her punishment did not include the right to let them focus their persecution on her innocent baby. This group of girls, which usually included Fabeola, had made it their daily mission to find a way to humiliate her. They'd pushed her down the stairs one too many times and only because of the unforeseen luck of always finding someone standing in front of her, she had not fallen too hard or been hurt.

Just the day before this same callous act of holding the stalls had caused her to wet herself and miss all of her afternoon classes. Today she was prepared. She’d made an elaborate plan the night before and payback was going to be a ‘muther’. She was tired of being a victim and tired of sitting back, letting others treat her as if she didn’t matter. It was time she stood up and protected the child she was carrying.

Stuffing the drains of the six sinks with paper towels Debney turned on the waters full force and watched as they filled quickly and began to over flow. The girls in the stalls so proud of themselves with their laughing, and cruel jokes missed the sarcasm in her voice as she repeatedly begged loudly for them to come out so she could go in. Every word from her; caused them to get louder and more rambunctious. Like idiots, they banged on the stall doors and laughed loudly. Unzipping the side opening of her back pack, Debney pulled out a wide roll of grey packing tape. Banking on the fact their loudness was drowning out the sound of the tape tearing, Debney moved quickly to tape the doors of the stalls shut. She knew it probably wouldn’t hold them in long, and they wouldn’t drown but it would make a point. Pulling a tube of lipstick from her purse she wrote a message on the mirror making it plain she was no longer playing. When she felt the water rising at her feet, she smiled at her success.

“Fine, stay in there for all I care. I hate all of you and I’m tired of taking crap. I’ll stay here as long as you’re in there.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’re not the one that has to pee.”'

“And we sure aren’t going to be the one who pees on herself.”

And the jokes and laughter continued. If she had felt an inkling of remorse for her actions, it was now gone. Pushing the tape back in the side pocket Debney pulled the typed ‘do not use’ sign from her bag and slapped it to the outside of the door, as she walked into the hallway. Just before she walked away she turned back and rammed the rubber door stop under the door in mimic of one of the tricks they had played on her.

Shouldering her way through the chattering students rushing through the hallway to their last class of the afternoon, Debney smiled to herself. She barely made it through the door and squeezed her big belly into her seat and under the desk before the bell rang.

****

She was flipping listlessly through the pages of her American Literature book when three of the girls from the restroom entered the room followed by the senior guidance counselor.

Debney’s gaze never wavered from the counselors face. She listened to the squishy sounds made by the shoes of the girls as they crossed the room to their desks and snickered. She tried not to laugh out loud when the one sitting closer to her swung her leg to cross it at the ankle and the water from the soaking hem of her jeans splashed onto the calf of the girl sitting in front of her. The accompanying protest and complaint was immediately quieted by the whispered explanation. Within seconds the bathroom incident was shared with the entire class and all faces were turned in Debney’s direction. The ensuing rush of bitter stinging comments of outrage and taunts were cut into silence by the upraised voice of the counselor.

“Debney Nichole Armstrong will you follow me to the office please.”

Without a word Debney slid out of her seat, sighing in frustration because she had to struggle a bit to pull the backpack along with her. Its cumbersome shape and weight causing her to bend and lift to get it through the small opening between desktop and seat of chair. As unintentionally as it may have seemed to the class, she swung it out just in time to smack the pointed end of the pen out of the hand of the girl sitting across from her. With repetition came knowledge. She had been stuck too many times and as she had said before, she was tired of taking crap.

Standing in front of the teacher’s desk Debney ignored the counselor and held out a card to the teacher.

“Ms. A, I just wanted to let you know I finally got around to filling thank you cards from my family’s funeral. I know it’s taken a long time. Put it down to too much going on in my life. I appreciate all you have done for me. I just wanted to let you know I decided last night that this would be my last day here. Since there are only two weeks left to graduation I won't be coming back. I’ll have my own baby to take care of in a few weeks and I’m tired of dealing with other people’s immature little children.” She turned and looked over the class with a sneer before turning back. “Thanks so much for your kindness.”

“You’re welcome Debney. Take care of yourself.” The teacher walked around the desk and gave her a hug.

“I will. My number is on the card. You can call me if you ever feel like it.”

Before she crossed the threshold for the last time Debney looked back into the room. “Most of you people are people I have known for my entire school career. We grew up together, learned a lot of things and have made mistakes I thought we were friends and yet you are the only people who have made me regret not having died with my family. Well, after today you'll never have to say ‘DNA you go away’. I’m gone.”

Following the counselor out of the room, Debney walked slowly through the empty hallway towards the administration side of the school building. The memory of four years of happiness was blurred by the horror and loneliness of the past nine months.

“Sit here, Debney.” The counselor opened her office door and pointed towards the sitting area of the room.

“Oh, God is this going to take long? Are you about to lecture me again? I’ve heard enough. Once a week I’m in here for something or other. I can’t take anymore I’m really tired.”

Debney crossed the room to the nicely arranged furnishings and let herself flop into the thick cushions of an armchair. Breathing in deeply she closed her eyes and tried to relax. She hated this room. She had been in the office more times over the past few months than the entire four years she had attend the high school. It was always the same thing. Nothing was her fault and yet, everything was her fault.

The moisture from the cold wet container being placed in her hand brought her back to the present. She looked at the item with disgust.

“Ewww gross. Why are you giving me orange juice Mrs. K? You don’t have a Cherry Coke?”

“Coke is not good for the baby.”

“Depends on the kind of coke it is. Some kinds can really quiet the kid.” She rubbed the now quiet mound of her abdomen as she looked the counselor in the eye. Debney getting a kick out of the look on the Mrs. K’s face sat back and laughed uproariously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

Stepping away from Debney Mrs. K dropped herself into the other recliner; her arms spread wide, the flesh jiggling a little when hitting the armrest of the chair. The combined bounce of her wrist and the flop into the chair caused a small splash from her can of coke to spill down her hand and plop onto the carpet. Shrugging nonchalantly at the small mess Mrs. K. lifted and crossed her legs onto the coffee table in front of her as if she were tired as hell, and closed her eyes.

“You had better be. I know you don’t want CPS in your business.”

“God no not again, it took months to get them out of my life when the family first passed away. I don’t know what Good Samaritan called thinking I was a little kid on my own, but they very nearly caused me and the baby our freedom. Anyway orange juice makes me puke.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She reached out and switched drinks. “Have you been eating regularly? You seem thinner than you used to be.”

“I eat three meals a day while at school alone. Can I help it if the alien within me sucks up all my nutrients?” Debney lightly tapped the bulge of her stomach and was immediately kicked in response. She laughed softly. “Already like his mom, rebellious as hell.”

“What about the father Debney? What are you going to do about him?”

“Which ‘him’ are you talking about?”

“Whichever ‘him’, you choose.” Mrs. K. sat up straight and took a sip from her drink. “Don’t worry you know I’ve heard all of the rumors.” She smiled a little. Having known Debney for a few years she fell into the casual joking mode. “From what I’ve heard there is a choice between quite a few from the football team. If it were me, there would be only one I would choose.” She gave a one-sided lift of her lip and sucked down the rest of her drink. The youthful action caused Debney to giggle.

“I shouldn’t have ever told you about my crush. Don’t worry about anything, I have it covered.”

“I’m really worried about you Debney. You may think you’re all grown up but you’re still a kid. Is anyone staying with you? Have you been to the doctor lately?”

“I’m using a midwife. Why do I need anyone with me? I’m an adult. I made eighteen a couple of days after….I’m eighteen now. I don’t need a babysitter. I may seem like a kid, but I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m filthy rich and want for nothing. I’ve got it better than a lot of the other girls running around school in the same situation.”

“No, you don’t have it better. All of those girls have a family. Whether they like it or not there is someone for them to run to. You’re alone and you need a friend. Hell girl what you really need is someone to talk you out of having a baby at home. Your first child and you so young, you need to be in a hospital with someone there when you go into labor.”

“Someone will be there. Don’t worry. I have all the money I need, a big house, and I don’t ever have to be alone.”

“Yeah, but you can get lonely. Who’s there with you at night? Who do you confide in Debney? Whose shoulder have you cried on since your entire family died in that accident?”

“Listen, Mrs. K. I made the mistake of crying on one too many shoulders the night I found out my family died and look what it’s gotten me.” She pushed herself into a standing position and rocked just a little at the shift in altitude. “I don’t need a shoulder. Feeling sorry for myself makes me jump to too many conclusions. I believed it when they told me my little brothers were dead and I gave up on them. You know they weren’t in the wreckage and I keep having the feeling I need to go find them, but I turned around, swallowed my feelings and had a funeral for them.”

“Debney you have to face facts, they haven’t been found. You yourself told me there was a cliff under the wreckage. They may have fallen over and into the ocean and will never be found. I know that’s harsh, but you need to face facts. You made a crazy trip out of the country hunting for them and nothing has changed. You have to accept the realities of life and concentrate on the next few weeks. Big things are about to happen in your life and it may be the change you need to pull you out of the dumps.”

“I know all of that and so I made up my mind last night that it’s ridiculous for me to keep coming to school. I don’t need any credits. My grades got me a scholarship and role as Valedictorian. And yet every day I continue coming here I run the risk of being killed because too many jealous ignorant little girls keep trying to push me down the stairs, or humiliated because they hold up the restrooms until I pee on myself. So if you took me out of class to lecture me about today’s restroom incident, forget it. I’m not hearing it. Bill me for the cleanup I’m good for the money. At least my parents left me something.” She turned to stomp out of the room but stopped and turned around at the sound of clapping.

“That’s good Debney. I’m glad to finally see some kind of reaction coming from you. I watch you daily trudging the halls, head down and looking at no one. You eat alone, you walk around alone on the campus and you go home alone. I heard you even fired the household staff. Who is taking care of you? Who’s cooking for you? Making sure all the bills are paid? I’ve talked to your teachers and we are all worried about you. Sure you do your work as usual, but you have lost yourself. You’ve locked down and closed out people in this school who care about you."

“People like who Mrs. K.? The girls I thought were my friends are now ignoring me and the ones I never had anything to do with have made it their life’s mission to make my days a study in mental and physical torture. It’s not that I want to be alone, it’s that I’m afraid to be around anyone.”

“Why do you think that is, Debney? Why have you allowed them to treat you so horribly?”

“Let’s not get into the psycho babble, Mrs. K. We’ve been through all of this before and my thoughts haven’t changed. I still believe it’s because it’s treatment I deserve. I brought this all on myself. Before you try to deny it,” She raised her hand to halt the counselor’s words. “Be honest. For all I know I slept with one of those idiot’s boyfriend and got knocked up. If I had to name the father in order to save my life, I would die right now. It doesn’t make a difference whether or not I was drunk or high or anything. I shouldn’t have thrown a party and lost my mind.”

“It was understandable. Teenagers throw parties when their parents are away.”

“Yeah, but do they sleep with most of the guys at the party.”

“I’m sure that’s not what you planned.”

“I can honestly say that’s true. My plan was to be with one certain person and things got out of hand.”

Mrs. K. leaned forward and smiled gently into her face. “Just to fall a little into my counselor mode I have to say the cavalier way youth fall into having sex is why girls find themselves in your position. Pregnant and stuck being both parents to an innocent baby, but don’t be so hard on yourself. I can’t even tell you how many other girls are walking around here pregnant and not knowing what to do. Everyone makes mistakes. Just face them and move on. And you have to believe there are people here who care about you.”

Turning away to avoid direct eye contact with the counselor, Debney rubbed her palm across right her eye.

“Mrs. K, I’m sure there are a few people left in the world that care about me, even if it is out of a sense of duty, but I can take care of myself. All of the menial things required in caring for a home, I can handle. I don’t want to even tell you how many times I had to take care of things before my parents died. I wouldn’t dare tell you the many times I slipped out of vacations when my mom stuck me with another family, and I stayed the summers and holidays in that house alone. It's nothing new. I can handle this. I just can’t mentally afford to connect to anyone right now. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll break down and if I do that I just know there’s no way I can pull myself together in time. It won’t be long before I’m a mother and I have to be able to be there in all capacities for the baby. I don’t want to need anyone.”

“Well, I’m sorry little girl because there are a wing of women waiting for you in the teacher’s lounge who want you to need us. We’re pulling for you. You can swallow that mountain of shame, let go of that river of tears you’ve been holding in and know you can call on either of us. How can you doubt us? We’ve known you for four years and some longer than that. You’ve bust in the doors of our office sharing every aspect of your life with us and all of a sudden you close up. Real life doesn’t work like that. People who care about a person stick around whether you want them to or not.”Mrs. K stood. “Now, come on over here and give me a hug.”

Grabbing the backpack from Debney’s hand Mrs. K. pulled the young girl's stiff figure close and gave her a huge hug before turning and guiding her out of the door. By using her arm which was wrapped around Debney’s waist she directed her towards the faculty lounge.

“And don’t worry about what happened in the rest room today sometimes people deserve what they get and this is the real reason I called you into the office.”

Mrs. K. opened the door to the teacher’s lounge and shouts of surprise and the evidence of a surprise baby shower greeted them.

******

On the spur of the moment Debney swung the wheel of the car to the left and drove through the circular part of the driveway to the front of the house instead of continuing straight and into the garage. Throwing the car’s gears into park she slowly climbed out and looked around.

Her gaze immediately rested on the enormous architectural presence of the house. The exterior was still beautiful. A lovely butter cream coloring trimmed in ivory. The tower shape of the large walls on each corner of the house and the picture windows bordered by wall climbing ivy and jasmine made the house look like a castle waiting for its Cinderella. She had always loved the house. Dreamed daily of one day swinging open the double front doors to the man coming to beg her father for her hand in marriage. What a fairy tale. Reality had sucked the delusional dream up as easy as dust to a Dyson.

Debney hadn’t entered through the front door of the house in months. She had run from the presence of the memories it held like a little girl running from imagined boogie men, but now it was time she grew up. This was her home and before too much more time passed it would be the home of a new life.

She looked around the grounds and shook her head in regret. Her dad would be disappointed in her. He had loved the house more than she and paid plenty money to keep the lawn meticulous and here she was only nine months in charge and she had failed him. The wide long porch needed sweeping, seating needed cleaning, the multiple potted plants and the lawn needed tending, grass needed cutting, flower bushes were dying from lack of care or watering and advertising circulars were scattered around rotting in their plastic coverings. It had been a mistake to let the yardman go. The house looked abandoned.

Staring at its door and the leaf covered welcome mat she rubbed her stomach shrugged her shoulders and released and long puff of air. The sooner she entered the sooner the ghosts would leave.

Reaching into the interior of the car she twirled her fingers around as many roped handles as possible and prepared to pull out numerous small bags as one yank would allow. The sound of approaching footsteps caused her to falter in her movements of retrieving the packages. And of course it would be no one but Giante’.

“You need any help Debney?”

“No.”

She yanked on the handles of a particularly stubborn bag and almost fell when it suddenly released itself. Giante’s hands were immediately on her back to catch her.

“What are you doing here Giante’?” She jerked away from his touch and stepped around him.

“I saw you drive up. I’m amazed you came this way. You haven’t been through those doors in months.”

“I know.”

“Have you been shopping?” He poked his head and half his body into the car’s open door.

“No. Are you always spying on me?”`

“I live right across the street. Have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten we have spent every summer together for as long as I can remember? Hell we used to spend all of our spare time with each other.” He lowered his voice. “Have you fooled yourself into forgetting the night we spent together?”

“How could I forget?” She looked pointedly at her stomach. “How can you forget you aren’t the only one I was with? Shit, forget I asked that. I’m not in the mood to have that conversation again.” She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Mrs. K and a few teachers threw me a baby shower. I’m just bringing the things in here since they’ve all taken it upon themselves to invite themselves over. They want to check out the house and make sure things are in order for the baby’s arrival. You now adults, they can never leave things, alone. They should be here in a minute.”

“Why don’t you just take them into the guesthouse? That’s where you live.”

“They don’t know that.” She looked at him as if he were an imbecile. “I just spent the last hour giving them the impression I’m living the life of the privileged, do you thing I can drag them to the backyard and not seem crazy when a huge house sits empty? Forget it. Since you’re here you may as well grab everything else and come in. I don’t want to be standing out here looking ungrateful when they pull up. Besides, I may need to do some quick dusting.”

“Just show me where you want things and I’ll help you out. Quick as a whistle I’ll get it done. You know I’m considered a speed demon.” He did a few simulated block maneuvers around her and she laughed. “See, I’m so quick you didn’t see that coming. Made you laugh and pulled the old Debney right outta you.” Standing on the top step of the porch Giante’ did a Superman pose. Hands on hips and chest expanded. “Be gone new Debney. Long live the old.”

“Be gone almighty Giante’ so I can unlock the door.” She attempted to swing the bags in her hand in his direction and almost lost her balance.

“Careful. You seem to always be tittering on the verge of falling. Is that normal? Are you sick?”

“How would I know what normal is? I shouldn’t have been going up the step while trying to swing a bunch of heavy bags that’s all. Move you’re blocking the door.”

She elbowed her way between him and the door and with shaking fingers she turned the lock. As soon as they stepped over the threshold and walked through the foyer and down the long hallway to the living room/kitchen area it was plain to see some quick dusting was definitely in order, along with the lighting of a few aromatic candles.

“Dang, Debney when is the last time the maid has been here?” Giante’ looked under the cabinets for cleaning supplies.

“You know I don’t live in here. I fired the service at least six months ago.” She pointed towards a small door by the pantry. “Cleaning supplies are in there. I’m going to do some spraying of Febreeze and lighting those candles my mom never wanted to use. You get to dusting in the foyer, Mr.”

“You might want to turn the air on full blast too. That’s the main problem; it’s hot and stuffy in here.”

“I just didn’t see the reason to keep the air conditioning running when no one is ever here. When I come in I come through the patio door I grab what I need and leave.”

“Well, if you want my opinion I think you need to rehire the maid service and give this place a thorough cleaning. You’re having a baby soon for Christ’s sake. This is where people will come to pay homage. No one will want to tramp through the bushes and into a tiny guest house.”

“I know it’s part of my working plan for the rest of the week. Cleaning, remodeling, and redecorating. I plan on spending the weekend floating in the pool like a beached whale not running around like a wobbling bear with an aerosol can to spray unscented odor in vacant rooms.”

“You’re going to get in the pool alone.” Giante’ stopped in his act of dusting to place his hands on his hips. “That’s dangerous you know.”

“Of course I’m not going to be alone. Nadine comes to stay every weekend. Haven’t you seen that through your never clever habit of spying on me?”

“I don’t be spying. I’m just keeping an eye on you and things. Trying to make sure no one tries to bother you.”

“Yeah, well you’ve made your mom suspicious. She came over here a few months back. Lectured me on my wild ways, admonished me for being pregnant, tore a little flesh off by reminding me if I had gone on vacation with you guys I wouldn’t be in the shape I’m in now. And then she tried to get me to assure her that she was not about to be a grandmother.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Of course I apologized profusely for my stupidity, denied your possible involvement, cried a lot about my family and then laughed as she walked out of the door. What the hell did you want me to tell her? What should I have said? Oh Mrs. De Vries I’m 100% positive Giante’ is not the daddy.” Her sarcasm evident in the high pitched little girl’s voice she used. “Or would it have been better to say, Oh, Mrs. De Vries if I had only gone with you there wouldn’t be a chance in hell Giante’ could be the father. You know either scenario would be a lie. We would have gotten together sooner or later and I have no clear clue on the father of this baby.”

Giante’ silently glared at Debney until she dropped her gaze in shame and continued lighting the candles.

“Yeah, I know. I think things just got out of hand that night. I….”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep hurting your feelings. Let’s not have that discussion right now Giante’, really. I can’t go through it anymore. It is what it is and nothing can be done to change anything and people are coming.”

“You’re always blowing me off Deb. I need to know how to plan the rest of my life. Sooner or later we have to settle things.”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait until later. They’re here.”

Excerpt Chapter Two

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THE FISHING TRIP(Suspense/thriller)

What readers are saying about THE FISHING TRIP

5.0 out of 5 stars Child Molesters Are Dead Fish In This Thriller, April 17, 2011

Debra JohnsonAmazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: THE FISHING TRIP-A TRIAL BY WATER, EXECUTION AND A DELIVERANCE OF RETRIBUTION (Kindle Edition)

This was a realistic tale of taking justice in your own hands. What stood out was the characters. I could feel their anger and taste their need for vengence. You hate to sympathize with this varied group of outlaws but you find yourself rooting for them as they take child rapist off the roles of society. Ms. Wade has done her home work on this book. Five stars....a great read at a steal of a price. Highly recommend

4.0 out of 5 stars A solid read, well-written and engaging., June 28, 2011

Brian Springer "Springer13"

A cleverly spun tale of retribution featuring a well-rounded cast of characters. It's clear the author has done extensive research on the subject of child abuse and is truly trying to make a difference with this book. I wish the nefarious nature of the town were explained a bit more but overall there was a nice balance of dialogue and exposition. A solid read, well-written and engaging.

5.0 out of 5 stars A Perfect Read !!!!, May 2, 2011

sjp (uk) - See all my reviews

This review is from: THE FISHING TRIP-A TRIAL BY WATER, EXECUTION AND A DELIVERANCE OF RETRIBUTION (Kindle Edition)

Ms Wade, has shown the mastery that she truly has in the writing, construction, and execution of this book. It tells of how once you are something, no matter how well you try to mask yourself, the truth will ALWAYS rear its ugly head.
The jumping back and forth works perfectly, as does all of the situations Ms Wade has created.
I would highly recomend this book as a must read. I was unable to put it down, and felt a part of the story imbedding itself into me. 100% perfect !!!!

4.0 out of 5 stars Can you ever escape your past?, May 1, 2011Debbie - This is a complex story dealing with complex issues. Wade cleverly intertwines past and present as we learn how the events of childhood shape the present lives of a family torn apart by betrayal and abuse. Just how far will one man go to exact revenge for the death of his sister? A satisfying read after the loose ends were tied and I came away realising that no matter how often you change your identity and start over, you can never escape who you are inside.

EXCERPT:
CHAPTER 1

kerplunk

“My arms are tired, Durham. I’ve been rowing this boat for the past twenty minutes. My fingers are getting blisters. And if it weren’t so dark you would see I have a huge splinter in my palm. Why is it you always make me do the rowing on these trips?”
“Stop whining, Penny. Do you want to do my job? Do you think it’s easy to do what I do? Do you think it doesn’t tire me to crack someone’s neck with my bare hands?”
“I’m sure it does. I don’t know how you do it. Just hearing the sound of a person’s bones breaking makes me shudder and gag. Knowing I am hearing them release their last breath makes me wanna vomit.”
“That’s how I felt at first, but now I just want to get the job over and collect my pay. You can stop rowing we’re almost there. Pull the oars in and be careful with the poles. I don’t want you to hit this fool on the head.”
“What difference would it make? He is dead right?”
“Yeah, but I want no excess marks on the body or blood in the boat. Give me that rope from behind your back so I can tie this tarp around his body.”
Penny reached behind her and felt for the presence of the rope. Her fingers sliding on the damp wood encountered what she thought was rope, the slimy patches of surface causing doubt and illusions of Water Moccasins to cross her mind. Pumping her bravery she yanked it up, held it far away from her body, and pushed it towards Durham. The heavy weight and wiggle of the object not counteracting her thoughts of clearing the fear from her mind, for all she knew what she held gingerly between her fists was really a snake.
“Here it is, Durham. Stretch out your hand its right in front of you. Damn it’s dark. I can barely see your hands.”
“You tryin’ to say I’m too black to see in the night?”
“No. I know those are gloves you have on. I’m just saying it’s too dark out here tonight. I don’t even know how you know what’s really going on around you. We’ve been on the water three times this week and each time you knew exactly where to stop and it has been dark as all hell.”
“Experience pays off. I’m a creature of habit.”
“Sometimes that’s not a good thing, Durham. It could be your downfall.”
“It will never be mine. Cover your face there’s going to be a big nasty splash when this sloppy fat bastard hits the water.”
As the water rushed into the air and the odor of rot and death seeped in through her nose and flowed quickly and deeply to the pit of her empty stomach, she gagged. The small indention behind her ears began to burn, bile rose to her throat and she fought hard not to release the contents of her stomach in retaliation.
“Oh hell….” Retching fruitlessly, Penny pulled the neckline of her shirt to cover her mouth and nose. “You weren’t kidding. That….damn….water….stinks.” Her retching sounds causing a pause between each of the four words. “How many bodies have you fed to the fishes?”
“Too many to count and if I tell you….well you know the old saying. Hand me the oars. I’ll row back.”
“Thanks.”
Penny gripping the edge of the rocking boat tightly looked around at her surroundings. It was nightmarish dark. No stars, eerie clouds moved stealthy across the sky and a sliver of moonlight peered through the thick foliage of the trees surrounding the spot where the body had disappeared. It was damned spooky. If any kind of water monster wanted to jump up and grab them and pull them into the deep blackness, this would be the perfect spot. They would disappear and no one would have any idea where to search for them. She shivered in the cool darkness; they were as much a part of the shadows as death was a part of the waters.
“Where do you think the bodies go, Durham?” She whispered just in case one of those monsters from her childhood nightmares was more than a figment of her imagination. “I’ve never heard of anyone talking about bodies resurfacing so they must fall pretty deep or something eats them.”
Durham laughed at the fear showing in the expanse of the white in her eyes. She held her arms crossed tight across her stomach, the rocking of her body having nothing to do with the movement of the water.
“You’re not afraid of the dark are you Penny?”
“Hell fuckin’ yeah. Petrified pissless and I’m not ashamed to say it, either.”
Durham chuckled between the strokes of the oar.
“Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard anyone say that. You can stop being afraid. Nothing is going to stick its long slimy arm out of the water and yank you out the boat.”
“That’s not funny at all Durham.” She looked around and shivered even more. “Now that you’ve read my mind I’m really scared. It makes me wonder if you’ve ever seen anything creepy out here.”
“Well, if you must know, sometimes when I’m sitting on the porch of that little cabin up there, I look across the water and think I see a specter of a woman or a girl. I’m not sure which it is.”
“Really?” She didn’t know whether to be excited of afraid. “Where exactly does she be when you see her?”
“I’m kidding Penny, geeze. I’m probably just seeing the smoke from the cigar I smoke. In a couple of minutes we’ll be close to the shore. And don’t worry about any of those bodies coming up because I know for a fact they fall into a huge cavern and just keep on going. The cavern has a vacuum like suction, things go down and nothing comes up. That’s why I always make you stop rowing at the large cluster of branches jutting out at the curve back there. The current is strong and I don’t want to get sucked in. If there were any stars in the sky I would be able to show you where the safety rope was tied. It’s there in case we ever fall into the water. Remind me to bring a flashlight the next time we come out so I can show you. Talk about a scary adventure falling in the lake and catching the ends of that slimy rope at just the right moment, exhilarating. ”
“You get a thrill from danger, don’t you?”
“Yup, I get more of a thrill from getting paid big bucks for dropping sloppy fat bastards in a watery hole.”
“I think the real thrill for you comes from getting rid of perverts. These guys deserve everything they get.”
“You know it. This last one wiggled his way into the life and home of a single mom with three little kids. Poor woman really thought he loved her and all he wanted was to get into her bank account and to rape her children.”
“Sorry bastard.”
“Sorry dead bastard. I hope he rots in hell.”
“You know I think it’s a good thing to get child molesters off the street…hell out of the world, but how are you so sure you’re are getting the right people? What if you make a mistake and take the wrong person on a trip?”
“I don’t worry about it.”
“Wha…?”
“I’m kidding. Duck your head and watch the branches. I do my research every time I get a request for a fishing trip. I check the person and their habits out thoroughly. Almost every one of these guys uses the internet for child pornography. I find what they think are a commonality and build from there. I never take a trip if it seems like the guy is innocent.”
“But who makes the call…uhm request? How do you know they are being honest? What if a person is being set up?”
“I do a thorough search on both sides and I've never made a mistake. Why are you asking me these questions, Penny? Are you starting to be afraid of the water?”
“I guess because you use me as bait. We've been on the water three times this week. I’ve had to sit around and let what I know to be fat slimy child raping pigs, paw me relentlessly and spit lies and profanity in my ear because they think I am an innocent teenager. I sit in a tiny rowboat, in the cold dark of night as you take them through their make-shift trial, sentence, and execution. Then I have to row a constantly rocking boat in the dark with a dead body at my feet. Taking all of these trips is making me believe I’m beginning to get immune to the act of death.”
“I hate to say it, but you will never get truly immune. It’ll probably become easier to accept the act, but believe me it will stay with you. The last girl to be my bait is dead now. She killed herself.”
“Well, I’m not gonna kill myself. How did you get into this business anyway?”
“Again, if I tell you…”
“You’ll have to kill me, I know. You’re like an old movie sometimes with all of your clichés and your ‘theme’ song.”
“Hey don’t knock my having a theme song. The smartest woman I know advised me to get one. It took years to find the right one and it fits. It keeps me focused.”
“Musta been an old lady.”
“Yeah, but you would love her. Whoa….sorry about hitting the platform so hard. Wait a minute before you stand and watch your step as you get out of the water. Every time you get out of the boat you fall.” He chuckled. “Think you would have caught on by now.”
“You would think. It just takes a while for me to get my land legs back and now that it’s starting to rain I really want to move faster. Do you need me to help you tie the boat or something?”
“No, but you can take my phone from my jacket pocket and tell me what the text is saying. Someone is really trying to get in touch with me. They’ve texted ‘bout four times already. Take it and move away from the water. I just bought that phone.”
“I’ll just go up the bank to the parking lot. I’ll be in your car. I’m too cold to stand out here.”
“Fine, and remember not to touch anything. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I know, I know.”

*****

“Hey wake up. Whatcha doing sitting here with the car door unlocked? Didn’t you hear me tapping on the window? I just decided to try to open the door and you almost fell into my lap.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything.” She slid over to the passenger seat of the car. “I left the door unlocked for you. I thought it wasn’t going to take you long to get here.”
“Sorry it took me more time than I estimated. I had to make sure nothing was left in or on the boat.”
“You weren’t that long. I’m just tired.”
“I know what you mean. So, what did the text say?”
“Someone wants to set up a fishing trip.”
“Are you in? Listen, if you don’t want to do this anymore I understand. What happened with that guy tonight was uncalled for. I tend to forget how dangerous and rough some of them are. I know you have a kid and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“My kid is the reason I help you. You’re doing a good thing, Durham. A real good thing and I’m proud of you. Too many of those perverted bastards out there hurting kids. You protected me better than I did myself. I trust you. Yeah, I’m in.”
“Great.” He released the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in with a gush. “I’ll drop you off at your car and then call the reservationist and find out the particulars. As soon as I know what’s what I’ll give you a call and see how to set things up.”
“How soon do you think it will be?”
“Not too soon. These things sometimes take a while. Some of the perves are really smart. They don’t all work alone, you know. What would really make me feel like I’m doing something is to get a large group of the filthy bastards and blow them the hell up.”
“It’s a noble but probably unattainable goal.”
“Ya, never know. Okay, we’re here. You can get out. Don’t forget. I’ll call you so don’t try calling me. It might be a few days or maybe even a week so don’t get antsy and call me, especially not on this cell number.”
“Don’t worry I remember the drill. I go home, get on with my life as usual and when its time, you’ll make arrangements and invite me on a fishing trip.”
“You got it. Now, shut the door it’s raining on my seats. Talk to you later.”
He drove off as soon as the metal of the door connected with the metal of the car’s frame.

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THE PERFECT SOLUTION--A SUSPENSE OF CHOICES

Anger destroys a relationship.

A teenage babysitter decides to go to college.

A single parent places her child in daycare.

A three year old is mistakenly given to a stalker by his pre-school teacher.

When Saturday mornings rolled around Catrine Teddi would bring her three year old son Brhin to eat breakfast at Mc Donald’s. It was an established routine to mark a day of errands and familial bonding. She never paid attention to Mona Boots sitting in the shadows across the play yard watching the little boy.

Mona, deciding she wanted Brhin as her own, spent weeks stalking him and his mother. In her delusion to finally do something right in her life she enters The Perfect Solution Childcare Center and leaves with Brhin-Kristoffer Teddi in her arms. It’s a choice she is prepared to defend.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1-INTENTIONS

“Austin”

Yanking his coat from the back of the wood slated chair and practically tipping it over with the momentum of his movements, Austin Sanchez practically ran out of the detective's office. Outside of the door, he angrily pushed his arms into the sleeves of his smoke gray leather jacket and jabbed the 'down' button of the elevator.

"Doctor Sanchez." The detective poked his head out of his door. "Don't forget that you have to remain in town. Until your son is found, you are unfortunately considered a suspect."

"I'm not about to forget that too soon." Austin answered in a flat furious tone. He stepped into the elevator and stalled the door's closing by putting his foot in the doorway. "Just keep my name and number close at hand; you may want to put it on your list as a murder suspect before the night is over."

"Listen, Doctor Sanchez, don't do anything you’ll be sorry about," Warned the detective, pointing his pen towards Austin. "You'll find yourself right back up here and not sitting comfortably in my little office."

"Never fear, if I do anything, I can guarantee you I won’t be sorry." He jabbed his finger into the button that closed the door.

Shaking his head as the doors closed, the detective empathized with Austin's feelings. What a hell of a way to find out you’re a father. He had seen and heard a lot of things during his years as police detective, but this was a new one. To never know that you are a parent and then to get the knowledge when your child is missing had to be a horrendous blow to both your ego and your sense of righteousness.

Remembering the shocked look on Austin Sanchez's face, he had no doubts that the man knew nothing about the child's whereabouts. As a matter of fact, he had been afraid he would have to call the paramedics. The poor guy had looked like he was about to have a stroke.

"Man, what way to find out you are a father," The detective repeated out loud. Slipping his arms into the sleeves of his coat, he too left the building.

Unknowingly echoing the detective's thoughts, Austin stepped from the elevator and walked out of the police station. He was so pissed, the words swirled around in his head at such a rapid pace, he could barely think. If it hadn't been for the fact he was dead tired from spending the past eighteen hours between two different surgeries, he felt as if he could drive straight to Catrine's apartment and beat the life out of her. But then again, he was really tired. He needed a shower, a bottle of extra strength aspirin and a cup of coffee.

From the moment he had gotten home from work and heard the message on his answering machine telling him to report to the detective's office or face the possibility of being arrested, Austin had thought that there was nothing left in the day to shock him. Finding out he was a father and being accused of that child's abduction, had definitely taken him on a trip to another dimension. He recalled each step of the visit with each step he took towards his car.

******

"Come in Doctor Sanchez."

The detective ushered Austin into the cramped little room and directed him to a slate backed chair at a long wooden table. Shutting the door, he sat opposite of Austin with his arms folded, rocking back and forth on the rear legs of the chair. He studied Austin as if he were staring at a specimen under a microscope. Then, without uttering a word, the detective let the chair fall back on all four of its legs, the sudden thud startling in the quiet room. Tapping the unsharpened end of his pencil on the table as he studied the notes in front of him, the detective repeatedly hummed a couple of tuneless notes.

Austin, assuming that this was another form of police psychological torture, nervously glanced around the small room. It was a mess. The clutter made him fill slightly claustrophobic. Shelves, floor, and table were packed with files, office equipment, and other office paraphernalia. There was barely enough room for him to move. Breathing slowly, Austin strove to put on the face of extreme confidence. After all, he had done nothing wrong. He had stolen nothing. No one had died on the operating table while in his hands and he owed no one any money. So what was the problem? Why had he been called here? He could feel himself slipping into the Black man's sense of injustice and fear. No matter how professional a Black man became, the idea of dealing with the law could put mortal fear into his soul.

Examining the tips of his manicured nails and then the tips of his well shined shoes, he waited for the detective to stop the tuneless humming and speak. When the humming stopped, Austin thought he was about to learn the reason for his summons and he sat up straight, but he was mistaken. He watched the detective with a burning anger as the man tossed the useless pencil, pushed back his chair and moved away from the table, crossing the room to the coffee maker.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, Doctor Sanchez?"

"Why not, I guess I have nothing to lose by taking a cup." Deciding to get the show on the road, he employed sarcasm as his tool. "Maybe after that, you will tell me why you requested my company. Unless you called me here because you were lonely."

"No." The detective returned to the table and placed one of the cups he was carrying, in front of Austin. "Loneliness doesn’t happen to be one of my problems. As a matter of fact, my problem is really your problem." He took a sip from his cup.

Copying the detective's moves, Austin irritably took a drink from his coffee. The damned little detective was working on his last nerve. Having to sit at the beck and call of a White man made him want to return to his belligerent, defiant, and ignorant days in the Hood. The gulp of scalding coffee brought his control into focus and he coughed in annoyance. Slamming the cup on the table and spilling a few drops in the process, he then mimicked the detective's rocking movements.

"Doctor Sanchez where is your son?"

"What?"Austin let the chair's legs fall back to the floor with a bang. "I don't have a son. If you called me in here to badger me about some unknown child, then I'm afraid you called in the wrong person." Austin stood to leave.

"Do you know a Catrine Nechelle Teddi?"

"Yes," Austin answered hesitantly before he turned and gazed doubtfully on the detective. "I haven't seen her for a few years, though."

Pointing to the empty chair with an ink pen, a sure sign they were now getting to work the detective resumed his interrogation.

"When was the last time you saw your son?"

"I have never seen my 'son', because I don’t have one." Austin getting more irritated as the moments passed emphasized his response angrily as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"From what Ms. Teddi has told us, you do. The child is three and a half." He picked up the sheet of paper. "He was born on the twentieth of September."

"What?" He resumed his seat slowly, staring at detective in astonishment. "You mean you're telling me that Catrine had my child and she didn't let me know?"

"Is that what you’re telling me?"

"Yes."Austin covered his mouth in shocked disbelief. "How could she do such a thing? Isn't there a law against that or something? How can a woman keep the knowledge of a child from its father and there not be a law against it? Wouldn't that be like kidnapping or something?" He stared at the detective, but did not really see him. His mind, desperately trying to assimilate what it had heard, refused to take in anything else.

"Have you and Ms. Teddi had an argument lately?"

"I just finished telling you that I haven’t seen her in a few years. I'm talking about over four years, here."

"Four years," The detective repeated the words in disbelief. “So you're trying to tell me you don't know where the boy is."

"He's missing? You brought me here, tell me about a child I have never seen and then you tell me that he is missing. Am I going to be considered a suspect? Wait a minute; I am a suspect, right" Austin stood in agitation and paced the room. “Do you think that I took him?"

"Sit down, Sanchez." The detective stood and put his hand on his hip. His solid stance and the hand nearest the gun in his holster intimidating as hell and Austin sat."The mother reported the child missing and we always check with family members, first. You are not the only one we will question."

"I just can't believe this." Austin shook his head in stupefaction. “Catrine had my child and didn’t let me know. Do you have a picture of my son?" He looked across the room at the detective.

"No, an officer is on the way to meet Ms. Teddi now to get one." He sat back down. "I won't be able to keep you too long, but I do have a few questions that I want to ask you. I want to ask you a few questions about your activities throughout today. So sit back and calm down."

Taking a deep breath and picking up the cup of coffee so his hands would be occupied, he had spent the better part of the past two hours sitting in that hard bottomed slate backed chair, repeatedly answering the same questions until he thought he would burst with anger and frustration.

"Listen, I don’t know how differently I can answer you. I have never seen him. I have already told you the same thing repeatedly I have no ideas about an abduction. For all I know the child is not even my son."

He had stressed the statement. Losing all patience, but to no avail. The questions continued. Do you know Catrine Teddi? Where does she live? When was the last time you had any contact with her? How long have you known her? Do you think she would harm her own child? The same questions, the same answers except for the one that he had no answer for. Why had Catrine kept the boy a secret?

Angrily striding through the parking garage without a glance to his surroundings, Austin walked past his car and huffed irritably when he had to turn and retrace his steps. Pushing the button that activated the engine of his car, he cursed extensively when the car protested with an irritating grinding squeal as it was thrown into the wrong gear.

"When I get to my apartment and take a shower, I'm going to call Catrine," he promised himself aloud as he restarted the car. "I should just pop up at her house. I still remember her address. Hell, I should. It took me damned near a year to stop driving past there. This time, I will be damned if I just pass by."

Fifteen minutes later, Austin was parking his hunter green Chevrolet Crossfire near the door of his apartment when he noticed a police car sitting across the street and cursed again as he slammed the car's door.

"When I get close to Catrine it will be nothing nice," he muttered aloud. "First, I get the humiliating visit with the police and now I have a police car sitting outside of my apartment, watching me as if I’m some common criminal."

Running up the stairs and opening his apartment door, Austin immediately went over to the telephone and punched out Catrine's number with the tip of his middle finger, cracking the nail with the force of his anger.

"Same number," he grumbled when he heard her voice on the machine. "I bet the girl is still driving that dangerous little sporty Jaguar, and with my son in it, no less."

Barely able to restrain himself from voicing his anger and frustration, he left a brief message on her answering machine; he let out an utterance of irritation which sounded more like a growl before slamming down the receiver and began to strip for a shower. Standing rigid under the water and hoping that the soothing drops would calm him, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the stinging hot spray. As the water ran down his cheeks he let himself remember the last night they had spent together.

Over the years that they had been apart, he had dared himself to even bring her name to memory. It had hurt him deeply when their relationship ended and his male pride refused to let him go crawling back. Until the day Catrine had thrown him out of her life, he had not realized just how much she had meant to him. He’d felt as if he would die and had spent many days on the verge of tears. For a man of his years that had been a new experience. He had walked around his apartment with barely enough energy to move. He couldn't concentrate. A terrible thing when you are a surgeon. Finally, he had run to his mother like a wimpy little woman and cried on her shoulders. He told her how clinging Catrine had become. How much the girl wanted him in her life and how much the idea of living with someone frightened him.

"Tin," his mother sat on the sofa looking up at him in barely disguised amusement. She patted the palm of her hand on the cushion next to her

"Honey, sit. You’re hurting my neck. What with me looking up at the ceiling and swinging my head to follow you as you wear out the carpet with your incessant pacing; I may never be able to use my neck again." She laughed and patted the spot again when he scowled. "Honey, if you cared that much for this girl, why in the world did you break up with her? She sounded like a dream to me."

"What are you talking about, Mom? Didn't you hear what I said? This woman believed that she owned me. Every time I turned around, she was there."

"You mean she stalked you," his mother stated, tongue-in-cheek, almost laughing when he threw his hands in the air.

"No." He stood back up. "No, I mean it was like we were never apart. She was just always there. When I got off work, I went to her apartment or she came to mine. When we could, we ate lunch together. She was just always there, washing dishes, clothes, cleaning the apartment, cooking, relaxing...Mom. Mom, stop laughing this isn’t funny. I just felt… I don't know."

"Loved? Wanted?"

"No, trapped." he sighed in disgust. "Mom you think this is funny but it isn't. No matter what I did she never trusted me. She was always thinking that I am messing around with someone else."

"Was she seeing anyone else?"

"No. As a matter of fact I'm the only one she ever...why am I having this conversation with you? I'm going to Dallas' house. He and Houston are watching the game on television."

"Yeah, you do that. Your brothers could probably help you a lot better than I can. I think that sometimes you forget that I am a woman. And as such I can understand how this girl feels. If I caught your drift, you're the only person this girl has ever slept with, right?" She continued when he put his head down and studied the circle he was making with the toe of his shoe and didn't answer. "Just that fact would make the girl very emotional. She.... Uhm, what's her name?" His mother stopped in mid sentence.

"It doesn't matter. I won't be seeing her again."

"Right," She scoffed in disbelief. "If it doesn't matter, tell me her name. Would I like her? How old is she? Where does she live? How long have you been seeing her? Who are her parents? And she doesn't sleep around, huh? She sounds like a winner to me."

Austin looked at his mother dubiously.

"Mom, don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"If you answer a few of the questions I would be able to give you an answer.”

"That's okay Mom. Let it pass. I'll be back." He walked backwards to the door.

"Fine, go talk to your brothers. Just don't let those chauvinistic macho older brothers make you feel or do something you'll regret later in life. Let them make you wimp out of your true feelings. Make you believe you are whipped or anything. I know how men get when they’re together. You know I always tell you guys you can tell me anything. This time I think you may have to do this on your own. Maybe even think with your heart and not your head."

He opened the screen and stepped onto the porch. "Yes, Ma’me I will." He turned and almost ran to his car. Laughing to himself as he got behind the wheel.

Old habits die hard. His could mother always make him admit more than he wanted. Just by sitting and listening. She had never made judgment on them for whatever they had done. She had let them do it to themselves. Using subtle questions, knowing smiles, and well-placed remarks, they had always known how she felt about an incident and what their responsibilities were.

During the many more conversations he and his mother had while he was visiting, he never told her how much he missed seeing Catrine's smile and hearing her tell the corniest jokes. Nor did he tell her how he missed the conversations he and Catrine would have after making love.

And she, as his mother, never dug too deep. She just fed him delicious home cooked meals and sat near him when he was at his lowest. For the two weeks he lived in her house, moped around, and welcomed her comforting words until she had booted him out and ordered him to go back to work with the promise that his heart would heal and he would live. Austin hadn't believed his mother's words just like he hadn't believed that the last night with Catrine would really be the last.

Three days before that final confrontation they'd had an argument and he had slammed out of her apartment vowing never to return. A vow he had stated many times previously, but had never kept. He had always returned. For some reason they had begun to argue frequently. Especially during the last two months together.

On this particular night, Catrine called him and invited him over for what she called a 'last get together'. She said she wanted to end the relationship on good terms and so he had gone. The candlelight meal had been delicious as was their 'get together'. He had been lying next to her with his eye closed, enjoying the fragrance of her perfume, wishing they didn't really have to break-up, and basking in her closeness and the way she was slowly caressing his chest when her words abruptly scattered the mist of self-satisfaction clouding his brain.

"Austin, don't you think it would be nice if we could be like this every night?" she asked softly.

"Oh, Damn."

Jumping from the bed, he grabbed his clothes from the floor and virtually ran from the room. Standing before the sofa in the living room, he made two futile attempts at pulling on his pants before succeeding.

Shaking his head in an attempt release some of the anger that was about to explode through his pores, Austin returned to the present and reached for the bar of soap, lathered his towel and scrubbed vigorously at his body with exasperation. No matter how he tried he could not by pass his memories. He remembered how Catrine looked when she entered into the living room from the bedroom. She had been securing the belt on her robe and as she tossed back her beautiful shoulder length hair with one hand, her small breast had swelled against the silk of the robe, practically begging for his touch. Giving in to the enticement, Austin stepped towards her and stopped short at the fury bursting from her lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Austin?" She put her hand on her hips and removed them just as quickly when the lapel of the robe gaped open to expose her nakedness. Closing the gap, she pulled the belt tighter.

Smiling at her belated sense of modesty, Austin pulled on his shirt. "I'm not the one with a problem."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't me." Her voice rose as did the anger in her face."I'm not the one that jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. You act like I'm trying to take away your freedom. Like you thing I'm going to chain you to a wall or something." She sat on the sofa and angrily tapped her foot.

"Or 'something' is right. You want to tie me to you."

Austin paced the living room angrily and when he got near the sofa, he picked up a small pillow and threw it against the furthest wall in frustration.

"What in God's name do you want from me?" He asked. "You know I work constantly."

"Damn it." Catrine picked up the pillow and took her time replacing it on the sofa. He watched her as she bent and plumped up the pillow. The delightful shape of her bottom embossed on the silk of the gown.

Smiling to himself, he remembered how Catrine had turned and saw the look on his face and had stiffened, looking at him with a slight sneer from feet to head. She stood in front of him as if she believed she could knock him down to her size and then had the nerve to blatantly prod him in his chest in her anger.

"Austin I want you to be faithful to me and if you can't be faithful at least be honest."

"I am honest with you. Is it my fault you think so much of me that you believe every woman that sees me, wants me?"

Catrine scoffed in amusement."You are so full of yourself, Austin. Do you honestly think you mean so much to me that I have a need to tie you to my side?"

"Hell, yes. Girl you know you love me and you'll love me forever."

"I can get over it."

"Yeah right, I believe that as much as I believe there’s a man in the moon. I don't know how I can be more honest. I tell you my job schedule. You know where I am all of the time. My life is not my own. When would I have time to run around on you? When I am not at work, I am with you. It's up to you whether or not you believe me. I think the best solution for us is to be apart."

"Damn."

The argument became much more heated with each one saying hurtful things until he stormed out of the apartment and never heard from her again.

"And now I find out I have a son and the boy is nearly four years old. I could just beat her." he said aloud.

Reaching for a bottle of shampoo and pouring it in his hair, Austin rubbed the thick liquid into frothy foam with vigorous motions. He could almost feel the many questions banging around in his head. I wonder if he looks like me. Does he have my eyes? Is his smile anything like mine? Does the child have Catrine's dimples? And what about the things he knows? I've missed his first smile, his first step, everything. I wonder if he thinks about me. I bet the poor little guy probably thinks that I hate him. A boy needs a father. I would have loved to be part of his life. I just don't understand how Catrine felt justified in keeping something like that to herself? How could she have purposely kept me from my child? We could have discussed the possibility of an imminent child, or maybe not. True, our relationship may not have been at its greatest," he mused out loud. "But she could have told me something."

Moving back under the spray to rinse the soap from his hair, he cursed loudly and irritably opened his eyes to try and wash the stinging foam from their crevices. Thinking about Catrine always threw him into a cyclone of emotions. He would fly from longing, to anger, to tenderness and then to frustration because he could never figure her out. Reminiscing about their earlier days was a lure he had done his best not to fall into. Sometimes, as he was doing now, he failed miserably. They had mostly dated and after a month or two, sex had just slipped in. No strings, no ties. Sure, she had been a virgin, but she had taken everything in stride and had not tried to push the status of their relationship into anything more serious until that last month.

Maybe Catrine had known that she was pregnant and having me move in would have been her way of telling me. She should not have let me walk out without telling me that she was pregnant. I could have been with her. I could have taken care of her. I would have loved to see her as my baby grew in her stomach. To have been able to rub her stomach, to feel the child as it kicked joyfully at its surroundings and to run to the store in the middle of the night. She should have told me about the baby instead of ending our relationship by throwing me out of her house and her life.

Stepping from the shower and wrapping one of the two towels hanging from the rack around his waist, he used the other to dry his hair. Rubbing the excess from his face, Austin stared at himself in the mirror.

"Well, she will not be throwing me out this time. I'll be there until my son comes home and for whatever time I feel necessary." He promised his reflection."You need to calm down fellow," he advised his mirrored image. "Maybe I should cut off the beard." He studied one side of his face and then the other. "Catrine has never seen me with it and I might scare the hell out of her. What the hell?" He shrugged. “It will be better than beating it out of her, which would still be better than what I will do to the person who took my son."

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THE WOMEN OF THE HILL
"The Women of the Hill took me by surprise. More a novelette than a full length novel, it's packed full of personality and energy. Within the setting of a close-knit circle of friends, realistically drawn with razor-sharp, true to life dialogue, a plot is woven of African-American women struggling to survive economically and raise their children in the face of marriages and relationships gone wrong. The ending was so surprising and shocking that I was literally biting my nails as I whipped through the pages. Ey Wade knows how to portray real characters and tell a story with equal parts humor and pathos...a story that never loses its punch." Georgina Young-Ellis

EXCERPT:

PART ONE

Initiation

Placing the nearly empty glass of orange juice back on the table and wiping the excess moisture from her palms Bianca picked up her journal and read the words she had just written. The words were an accumulation of at least three years of a relationship and a life time worth of change. Even the names in the journal were fictitious.

*****

I’m not even going to lie to you, yes; I was a whore for Sam. At one time I would have done just about anything asked of me to be a part of Sam’s world. Yes, Sam took care of me and he did a very good job of it, too. The degradation of the arrangement was the horror of it. I guess you would wonder how, huh? Well, Sam is not my lover. As a matter of fact our relationship was not of the intimate kind, at least not physically. The truth is I have never met Sam on a personal face to face level. Every facet of our relationship had been arranged through another.

What distresses me the most about letting Sam take care of me is the reality that for such a long time I depended on him to be my only source of support. From the very beginning Sam gave me everything food, clothing, money, housing, and medical coverage. When he turned his back on me without warning, I was truly devastated. With him, I wanted for nothing. Nothing but a peace of mind that is, because Sam was extremely jealous.

In the beginning, he was like a fairy godfather. Everything he promised he delivered, eventually even this began to pall. He was so demanding. In order to continue receiving support from Sam, I had to report all of my personal and private affairs to his hired financial wizards every three to six months or within ten days if any kind of changes occurred in my life. Sam found it hard to understand that having a minimum wage job, going to school, or getting a hand out from a friend did not generate funds into a bank account. At the crucial moment when it looked like I was about to step out on my own, Sam would turn his back on me. He would toss me to the side like worthless trash with barely enough to survive and then my only recourse would be to crawl back to him for help.

The very first time I came in contact with Sam, life had already beaten and humiliated me into thinking I was a worthless human being. I’d talked myself into having a very low opinion of the sorry way I was living and providing for my six-month-old daughter. We were trying to live off funds acquired before I was terminated from my job as a medical office assistant and it wasn’t working. Things were so tight I was having a hard time keeping food on the table and the bills paid. After three months of scrimping, I was just about ready to give up and move in with my mother and when my friends hooked me up with Sam.

Whenever my girlfriends and I got together for our daily ‘4:00 Bash the Stress’ sessions (which was really our way of legitimizing watching Oprah everyday), I cried on their shoulders. I’d been doing this so often they began to laugh at me as soon as I opened my mouth to complain. Each one in turn advised me to get in touch with Sam. ‘Sam is the man’ said one. ‘He could solve all of your problems’ said another. I heard them say ‘Sam could do this and Sam could do that’ so often that one day as we sat in my living room chewing on chips and watching Oprah, I found the courage to ask…

“Who is Sam?”

“Girlfriend…”

This was Tone’ya Knoes about to answer. Tone’ya is thirty-two years old, the encyclopedia of our group. She’s loud, assertive, and the well-informed mother of two daughters. No truer friend could be found.

With a Humph at the end of the word, she stood in front of me with her hands resting on her well-endowed hips and shook her head from side to side like a broken shutter. She snapped her fingers two times in an arch above her head and clicked her tongue to the rhythm of the snapping fingers.

“Girl, don’t you know anything? Wake up, girl.” She snapped her fingers under my nose.” Sam is the only person that can help you. He takes care of us.” She swung her arm to include the three women sitting in front of the television. “How do you think we all make it?”

“I thought you all had a ‘man’.”

They all laughed.

“Of course we do. The thing is; can we depend on them?” Tone’ya questioned with a smirk.

“No.”

All of the women shouted in unison and laughed even louder. They shared high-fives and fell all over themselves in merriment.

“How many of you here can depend on your ‘man’ to remember that you need your bills paid?” She pounded her fist in her opened palm like a frustrated lawyer making a final statement. “Food on the table, pampers on the baby’s butt and most important…money in your pockets?”

Tone’ya did the snap and arch thing again and everybody in the room cheered while laughingly bemoaning the faults of their men.

“Well, I can.” Skinny Rayne Moore, the youngest woman in the group stood next to the television and put her hands on her hips in imitation of Tone’ya.

Whoever this Sam was, I thought. It was obvious it didn’t matter to him how old or young a woman was. Rayne was just making twenty years old. She shook her shoulders, making her breast bounce heavily and gave a very seductive smile.

We continued to laugh.

“You laugh, but I know my man takes care of me.”

“Who are you talkin’ about girl?”Jenny Needs questioned. “I know you not talkin’ about that fat, sorry ass, cradle-robbin’ Shamel.”

“Honey, please.” Rayne raised her opened hand, in that talk-to-the-hand fashion, towards Jenny.”You know what Shamel is for and he’s not ‘fat’ he’s muscular.” We all snickered. “I’m talkin’ about ‘Sam’.” Rayne ignored our side comments and continued. “Sam will do me no wrong. Sam is the man. Can I get a witness?”

She raised her arms in the air and danced around as if she had gotten the Holy Spirit. Amen sister and you go girl were repeated over and over as we laughed.

“So all of you get something from Sam, huh?” I asked after the laughter stopped. “Did you all meet him at the same time?”

“No.” They all answered together.

“I hate to ask this because you all just don’t seem the type, but do you all sleep with Sam? Cuz I’m gonna let you know right now, I’m not into ‘kinky’.” I quickly added the last so they would know where I stood. Getting help was one thing, selling my butt and odd sexual acts were another story.

“What? Are you kidding?” Jenny giggled. She pressed her hands over her mouth as if she were trying to hold in a secret. “Girl, you don’t know what you’re missing.” She looked around at the other women and began chuckling like an idiot.

“Oh my….” Frankie choked back laughter by making quick fanning motions near her eyes with the fingers of both hands, as she tried to finish her sentence. “Oh, my God we all meet at Tone’ya’s house…” Tears of merriment ran down her face. “Around midnight on the first Wednesday of each month and take turns screwing him on her kitchen table.”

Letting a loud burst of laughter erupt into the room as she finished speaking, Frankie fell backwards on the couch laughing uncontrollably. Her shoulder bumped Jenny who fell on the floor chuckling and snorting. Rayne and Tone’ya stared at me opened mouth before they too started laughing. Rayne, jumped around in small circles in her delight and Tone’ya, in her enjoyment practically skipped around the room. It was a little while before the loud laughter quieted down to giggles, suppressed snickers and one of them could finally answer.

“Girl, I think you need some help.” Tone’ya tapped me on the shoulder in a consoling manner, wiped her eyes and resumed her seat. “I’ll have Sam come over here next Wednesday and we’ll do it in your kitchen.”

The raucous laughter started in the room again. The merriment was contagious and this time I had to join them. Ignorant to what they found so funny, but happy to shed some of my misery.

“Seriously now,” Frankie straightened herself before continuing. “Girl, are you crazy. No one sleeps with Sam.”

Stunned, I looked around the room at the smiling women.

“Okay, so none of you go that way. Thank God. So why does he help?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Tone’ya swiveled her neck side to side. “I don’t ask why when someone is giving me something. I just take it.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’.” Rayne agreed. “If I can get me some money and some help and don’t have to give up no coochie…I’m there.”

Rayne and Jenny high fived each other as everyone else concurred with the statement. Still not convinced, I questioned them further.

“Tone’ya, how long have you known Sam?”

“Let’s see, my girls were three and seven when I first became involved. That makes it three years. John and I had recently separated and somehow he’d gotten into the house and taken everything. On that day, I came home from a horrible day at work. As a matter of fact, I had just been fired, ‘downsized’ as the boss said. Same difference as I see it. John had cleaned me out. He had taken everything, the furniture, the food from the cabinets and even the furniture from the children’s bedroom. To make things worse, when I went to get the girls from the baby-sitter, they were gone. Oh, my God I could have killed John. It is only by the grace of God that he is alive and wherever he is, now. I couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. I was afraid I would never see my children again. This is how it happened, a few days before the big clean out, John and I’d had a serious argument. Major. You know me,” Tone’ya nonchalantly shrugged off her fault. “If it comes to my mind, it comes out of my mouth. God, I can remember that argument, I should say fight, as if it were yesterday…

Bianca took a deep breath and another sip from her class before getting into the story Tone’ya told about her reasons for turning to Sam. The chaos in Tone’ya’s life both disturbed and aroused feelings of anger. Pressing her back into the cushions of the chair, Bianca lifted the pages of the journal closer in order to read the words better. Hoping she’d put in just the right amount of emphasis and recorded it just the way Tone’ya had told it.

*****

"Tone'ya, I've had it with you.” John held Tone'ya pressed against the wall by the grip he held around her throat. “I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I'm sick of you thinking you can order me around.”

The malodorous smell of his breath rushed through her nostrils and made her want to vomit. Trying to keep herself from gagging, Tone’ya twisted her head from side to side to move her nose from his breath's direct noxious path and he pressed his face closer to hers until the tip of their nostrils touched.

"If you went out and got a job," She belligerently squeezed the words around his clenched fingers. “I wouldn't have to feel like the man in this marriage. I'm tired of taking care of your business. And I am not a dog that you can curse and kick whenever you feel like it. I won't accept it in my house.”

"Yeah, you’re a dog. You seem to keep forgetting you’re my bitch and you do what I say when I say it. You seem to have a hard time remembering that you talk when I say so. You don't know when to keep your mouth shut.”

John stressed the last four words by banging the back of Tone'ya's head against the wall. The pain of her head hitting the wall, and the vibration of the thuds ricocheting through the bones in her head brought tears to her eyes. She could feel that her nose was still bleeding from the slap received when he had slammed the back of his hand into her face. Its warmth was sliding down her lips and dripping off her chin to the top of her shirt. As a matter of fact, her nose felt like it was broken. It hurt miserably.

"Okay. Alright. All right, John. Come on. Let go. You're hurting me.” She implored hoarsely.

Tone'ya pulled uselessly at his arms. Her nails scratching his skin, but not making a dent in his anger. The tears were running down her cheeks and air was becoming harder to drag in around his clenched fingers. She looked into his eyes in useless appeal. John was beyond caring. Turning her head to the right, she could see their youngest daughter standing and broken-heartedly crying in the bedroom's doorway.

"John," She looked back into his eyes. “The baby is in the door. Please stop this for their sake.” She pleaded.

"You're damned lucky.” He pulled her from the wall and shoved her towards the king sized bed where she landed awkwardly. “I'm gonna get me a beer. You better make it your business to hurry downstairs and get my dinner on the table. Come on kid.” Picking up the little girl when he reached the doorway, John carried her out as he left the room.

Rolling over on the bed, Tone'ya pulled her knees up to her chest. Rocking in her pain and anguish, she moaned at the mess her marriage had turned into. It was time to get out. John was becoming more and more violent every day. The love was definitely gone.

She couldn't remember the last time he had even pretended that he cared for her. Anger was the thing that ruled his life. She was living her days trying to believe things would get better. Blowing off his angry outbursts and forgiving him for every burst lip or black eye, he gave her. She truthfully believed things would change when he found another job. Being a man, a Black man without a job had to be hard, a tremendous blow to the ego. But this night was the last straw. A blow to his ego or not, she refused to stay around and have him taking out his pain on her. Wearily pushing herself into a sitting position, she cautiously crossed the room to the bathroom, the queasiness in her stomach causing her steps to falter.

Leaning over the sink, Tone'ya ran warm water on a face towel in preparation of rubbing it across her cheeks. The contact would hurt like hell. She examined her face and neck in the mirror. Her cheeks were covered in bruises and scratches. Welts from the grip of John's fingers were beginning to swell around her throat and she could barely swallow without feeling pain. It felt as if the bones in her throat were crushed. She was just about to wash the blood from her face when she thought better of the idea. Going back into the bedroom, she walked around the bed and to the closet where she pulled the digital camera from its top shelf. Crossing to stand in front of the dresser, Tone'ya watched her reflection's movements in its mirror in order to position herself correctly in front of the camera. Pressing the button, she took two quick shots of her frontal view and shots of each side view. She was going to fix him. Playing time with him was over. John was a sorry bastard. This would be his last time putting his hands on her and getting away with it.

"So, you came down, huh? Thought I was going to have to go up and get you.”

John glanced at her from his position on the couch as she walked down the stairs. He took a swig of his beer as he studied her silently. Without a hint of apology, he calmly looked her over before turning his attention back to the television screen.

“Make sure you don't open your mouth.” He threatened while shaking the can of beer in her direction. “Bring your ass in the kitchen and get dinner on the table.”

Not bothering to make a reply, Tone'ya went to the dishwasher and pulled out a place setting for four.

"Typical bastard," Tone'ya muttered under her breath. “He can sit around thinking he's the man, but this is going to be his last night.”

Pulling one of her larger steak knives from the wooden block holder, she rotated it as she studied its tip before slowly sliding it back in its slot. Nope, she wasn't that angry. She would have to be on the brink of manic to cut off his head and stuff it in the garbage disposal. She hadn't made it there yet.

Silently, Tone'ya set the table and filled the plates with food. She called the children to the table and sat down herself.

"What's your problem?”

John walked into the room and slapped Tone'ya hard on the back of her head before pulling out the chair opposite. Rubbing the offending area and doing her best to stifle the startled cry she wanted to give at the increasing pain running through her already throbbing head and the urge to jump up and stab him in the throat with her fork, Tone'ya nervously answered.

"There's nothing wrong with me, John.”

"I heard you call the children in and you didn't call me.”

"I called you.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes and kept her kept head down as she stared into her plate. “You must not have heard.”

"Yeah, right.”

John answered sarcastically before sitting down.

The meal was a quiet affair. The children kept shooting glances between her and their father. Young as they were, both little girls could feel the tension and neither child said a word until the eldest picked up her glass of milk. After taking a small sip she looked towards her father.

“You know what I was thinking, Daddy?”

Tone’ya immediately stiffened and looked towards the child in consternation. At the age of seven Khandi had a mind of her own and voiced her opinions endlessly. Sometimes to her detriment. Tone’ya shifted her body so that she could be in the child’s view and mouthed the words, shut up, but the child refused to look in her direction. Her belligerent gaze was focused on John.

“No, what were you thinking, Honey.”

John’s glare burned through Tone’ya as he answered the child. She could see the promise of her taking the repercussions for whatever the child said clearly written all over his face.

“I was thinking…” Khandi rolled the glass between the palms of her hands before continuing. “I was thinking that when I grow up I’m going to cut your head off and kill you for the way you hurt my Mom.”

“Continue thinking like that and you won’t grow up.”

John leaned back in his chair and laughed which made the child’s temper snap and she threw the glass of milk in his direction. Landing with a thump and shattering on the table in front of John. Rivulets of the liquid rolled down his cheeks and fragments of the glass lay near and embedded in his hand. Tone’ya quickly jumped up and moved to stand between the child and her father.

“You think I care if you kill me, Daddy?” The child boldly tried to maneuver her way around either side of her mother who blocked her efforts. “People die all of the time and it would be better than living with you and hearing you hurt my mama. I hate you. I wish you would just choke on your food right now so I could laugh while you die.”

“Go to your room Khandi.” Tone’ya, keeping her protective stance between the child and John, moved just enough for Khandi to get away from the table. She looked into the child’s eyes “I’ll be all right.” She turned to look at John who had returned to eating his food as if nothing had happened. “It will be all right.”

Khandi nodded, took her sister’s hand and walked out of the room. Tone’ya sat down and pretended nothing had happened. She knew retaliation wouldn’t come immediately. John enjoyed evoking terror. He would wait until he thought she had relaxed and then he would pounce and delve out whatever form of punishment he deemed necessary. When the children were quiet upstairs in their room, Tone’ya began clearing the table. She slowly pulled the steak knife from its moorings and laid it under a dishtowel on the cabinet. This would be the last night. She stood at the sink and looked out the window.

"Hum, John. Would you go and put the trash to the street, please?"

John pushed his chair back from the table and stood with a self-satisfied grin. He sauntered to her side and hit her hard across the butt.

"That's the way to ask me for something. I run this house. You better remember that.”

He rubbed his hand around her butt and roared with laughter as he walked out of the door.

"You better remember that.” Tone'ya repeated his words in mocking tones and laughed.

Walking to the door, she locked the screen and the inside door. Rushing back to the kitchen window, she gave a small chuckle at the melee happening outside. What John hadn't known was that when she had come out of the bathroom, she’d called the youngest of her three older brothers and told him what John had done. He’d been really pissed off and had wanted to come and beat John then and there, but she hadn't wanted her brother in trouble. He informed her that he knew a few guys who would take care of John for her and she had agreed. Two guys were outside taking turns beating the hell out of John. Violence had never been one of her things, but John had changed all of that for her. He thought he was man enough to fight someone, she had gotten him someone.

It wasn't fair that he should fight a woman. If he wanted to be a man, he should take his problems out on a man. She felt no compunction at seeing his battered body lying on the sidewalk as she rushed upstairs. She packed a bag for him; tossed in one of the frontal view images of herself she had printed out and threw the bag out of the upstairs bathroom window. It landed on the lawn nearest the driveway.

"Don't come back here, John.” She yelled out of the window. “If you do I will have the police here.”

“And so…" Tone'ya looked up at me. “That was the end of the marriage. The next day John broke in, took everything and I never saw John or the children again.”

Bianca laughed out loud remembering how Tone'ya had laughed when she noticed the look of confusion on her face.

*****

"Were you lying, Tone'ya?" Bewildered, I shook my head in wonder.

"No girl," She laughed again. “Everything was true up until the last part. You were sitting there with your mouth wide open and I just couldn't help myself. The S.O.B. did take the girls but he dropped them back later in the night, a sorry scare tactic. John didn't want them then and he doesn't want them now. The smart ass paid for a quickie divorce without a word to me. As I said, he got in the house, cleaned it out and sold the house and everything we had bought together and since I had nothing, I had to join Sam's little circle. I do thank God for Sam. He gives me a house to live in, food to eat, and medical insurance for the children. What else could I ask for?"

"Tone'ya you are so crazy.” Frankie laughed. “I loved the way you sent John running down the street that night. I watched those guys beating him and wished I could have gotten in a few lick. He was a horrible person. Just mean. Tone'ya and I used to live next to each other in our wild married days before we moved here.” Frankie explained. “Those were the horror days. I get to laugh more now than I ever did the entire time I was married.”

"What about you Frankie?" I asked. “How did you get involved with Sam?"

"Well, it wasn't anywhere near as dramatic as Tone'ya's initiation. My ex-husband left when the twins were babies. Leroy says he just wasn't ready to be tied down. Having children in the house on a daily basis would drive him crazy. He pays a small amount of child support and as you know, he comes to get them two weekends out of the month. It works better this way. We're still friends, sort of. At least I don't feel like killing him anymore. Sometimes I could beat him because his walking out on me and leaving me with two tiny babies almost drove me insane. I worked for a couple of years, but I couldn't stand having my children in the sorry childcare system, let alone couldn't afford it. So, I quit my job, took them out of the daycare, and have been home ever since. Four years. I know it was a lot of wasted time, but…" She shrugged her shoulders. “If things work out and I get more people to let me take care of their children, I may be able to kiss Sam goodbye, but right now, I'll just take what he can give me.”

"I guess that means it's my turn, right?" Rayne questioned me when I looked at her sitting on the couch. “Okay.” She stood and bowed to each of us and cleared her throat. "Uhm, uhm I'm really not ready for this interview. Which camera do I look into? Where's the makeup person? Someone should have warned me.” She smiled sweetly and played with the ends of her hair.

"Rayne, I don't know how they call me crazy when you sit there acting like you're on a freakin' talk show. Just tell the story already.” Tone'ya swung playfully at Rayne and purposely missed.

"My name is Rayne Moore.” Rayne ignored Tone'ya and continued her little act. “And the two women that were just in front of the camera were Ms. Tone'ya Knoes and Ms. Frankie Duz. Come back over ladies and wave at the people. Oh, I'm sorry. The camera is over there.” She pointed to her right at an imaginary camera. “Okay, okay.” Rayne laughed. She covered her head with her hands when Tone'ya swung at her again. “I'll just tell the story. As you know, I just made twenty years old last week and I have the most beautiful son in the world. His name is Shamey, really Shamel. He's named after his daddy.” She gushed and smiled prettily. Sighing like a teenager in love with a movie star.

"I don't know what you see in that sorry assed, cradle robbing freak smelly Shamelly. The punk is fifteen years older than you are.” Tone'ya muttered under her breath.

Ignoring the comment, Rayne continued.

"Shamey will be two in a few months. I had him in my senior year of high school. My mom was positively pissed off when I decided not to continue my education, but I listened to Shamel. Dumb, I know. You all know how it is, first male and older than me at that. I just believed everything he said. Shamel promised to take care of the baby and me but so far, it has only been Sam. I've been with him for about a year and a half. I got tired of my parents rating on big Shamel every time he came around and so I hooked up with Sam. He gives me food, money, and medical coverage for Shamey and me. I'm not saying I will be with Sam forever, but right now, it does the trick. I moved into this area at the same time that I hooked up with Sam. It was easy. I joined this program with Housing, they are connected with Sam and I appreciate that. Most of the houses on this street have landlords that deal with Housing and I appreciate that too. This is one of the better neighborhoods. It’s quiet, no through traffic and it’s clean. The children can play in the streets and not worry about being run over. I love it here.”

"Well, you should.” Jenny confirmed. “We all live here and you couldn't find better neighbors.”

"Only thing is living here is like living in a girl's town.” Tone'ya moaned. “Only men in sight are below three feet.”

"Shamel is around all of the time.”

"I can't count that punk. He's a moocher.” Tone'ya dismissed all thoughts of Shamel with the flick of her hand. “It's so private down here. There are how many houses on this end of the cul de sac? Five? My house faces Jenny's and Frankie's faces Rayne's. Phyllis' house is at the end smack dab in the middle. Sure, it has the greatest view of the neighborhood, but I always feel that it sits in the direct path of a reckless driver.”

"That's why I had the big fence put up. Do you think I spent all of that money on those fancy black poles and that expensive security system for its beauty?"

"Naw I thought you bought it to keep out your neighbors.” Tone'ya snickered and caught the shoe I threw at her with one hand.

"Doesn't seem like its working does it? Actually, I put the fence up when Rosie's dad ran out on me. This house is much too large for a woman and one child. It was supposed to be a family home. But now I'm stuck with it and I'm going to be here forever. So, the gate is for protection from cars, thieves, and what you call 'men'. What about you Jenny? When did you get involved with Sam?"

"Not that long ago. I don't think it has been a year. The only real help I get from Sam is medical. He gives me about forty dollars for food because I am a substitute in the schools. As if a sub job will help with four children. It’s hardly taking care of the boys' pamper needs.”

"That's why I told you to potty train those boys.” Frankie wiggled her pointer finger in Jenny's direction.

"I'm working on it Frankie. You know how hard it is. They're one and a half and newly three. The training is just taking a little while. Those boys are not as easy as the girls were. They act like little monsters sometimes.”

"It's only because they know how to manipulate. Peter goes to the bathroom at my house without a problem. What you have to do.…"

"Hey, hey.” I raised my hands and shook my head at the two women. “Hold up a minute. How did we get into talk of potty training?"

"Sorry.” Jenny apologized. “Okay, now that the children's father has run out on us I have to pay rent on my own. Hell, it was hard trying to make sure that they had enough and then pay the bills so I applied for the Housing. I still pay my rent, but now I only have to pay a little more than half of the $800 instead of the full amount. Sam is also supposed to help with getting child support. So far, it's been a joke. I've been to court three times. Twice I sat for three hours and the kids' dad never showed up. They finally came and told me that the sorry bastard had called in for a change of date. Both times, it was the same thing. They never inform the mother. You go and stand in line with a bunch of other women from eight o'clock in the morning until whenever.

You have to sit in the courtroom and listen to everyone else's business and then you're brushed off. I was so pissed that second time I made a futile trip that I refused to leave and waited until I could get a chance to speak to the judge. I told that man how I had to keep taking off work to go there and how I was losing money. I really bitched. Here all the sorry dog had to do was call in with some pitiful excuse and he didn't have to show up. If the mothers don't come, they take away our benefits. To Sam's wizards it doesn't matter if you have to leave your job. I used to think they cared about the kids, but now they have this saying that they represent no one, but themselves. The judge was a pretty reasonable guy that day and he set the time for my next appointment for the afternoon and the little scum can't get out of it. He has to be there or go to jail. I can't wait.”

"Listen, Phyl.”Tone'ya reached over the coffee table, deftly took the television's remote control from Rayne's slack fingers and flicked it on. This was an action that successfully put an end to the conversation.”You can't do wrong with Sam even if you use him for a little while. Instead of you questioning us, go and try him out for yourself.”

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Beads on a String-America's Racially Intertwined Biographical History

"If you enjoy reading good genuine history, which is all about people, this is the most innovative and intriguingly honest perception yet, of America's roots and growth. Ey,An amazing work - very labor intensive - and worthy of a PhD (in my humble opinion, but what do I know). Your index is just as intense as the text, for God's sake!Finished your book, "Beads On a String!" Perfect for home-schooling; very complete, heartwarming and winning material" Kathy Brown

"....This is the story of the heroes of our collective past. What is incredibly moving is that so many of these heroes have gone unsung for so long. I can gladly recommend this book to anyone interested in the historical journey of the land we live in. Beyond that, I can just as easily recommend it to anyone who just likes a great read."Jonathan Ellis "

"Ey Wade has written a unique and important book that put all racial History under one umbrella. Wade has done a tremendous job collecting information on all races, and all subjects related to them. "Beads on a String" is a piece of History that was missing until this book came out. I highly recommend this book to anyone wishing to understand more about how multiple cultures shaped the US to what it is today. Two thumbs up! " Lola

DESCRIPTION: Ever wondered what America's history would look like if every race was included in one book? Celebrated daily? History was written in more than Black & White and Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History lauds loudly the accomplishments of all races that helped make America the great country it has become. America’s glorious multi-racial history is finally acknowledged.

EXCERPT:

ABOUT THE BOOK

This is an independent research and education project

Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History is a recording of America’s glorious multi-racial history, celebrated within one cover.

Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History lauds loudly the accomplishments of all races that helped make America the great country it has become.

It celebrates such people as Hiawatha, who fought for freedom of his people. It applauds Lonnie Johnson who invented the ‘Super Soaker’, Dalip Singh Saund a member of the United States House of Representatives and Rev. Rick Warren who blessed the 2008 Presidential Inauguration. Beads on a String continue with the recognition of others such as, Arpad G.C. Gerster who was one of the first surgeons in America, and Yamato Ichihashi, one of the first academics of Asian ancestry in the United States. Antonio Meucci invented the telephone, Michael Jackson entertained; Minoru Yamasaki second-generation Japanese-American architect designed the World Trade Center, and Amadeo Peter Giannini who founded the of Bank of Italy, which later became Bank of America.

Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History never stops celebrating our heritages from the naming of the country by Martin Waldseemuller to the elimination of overt racial discrimination, through education, entertainment and to the glorious day of racial, political and social unification with Barack Obama’s Presidential election.

Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History will be a great asset to the educational system as well as in the lives of people all over the world. With the election of Barack Obama as President, it is clear; America is ready for a change. That change should take effect within the history books.

Video1:

A Change Has Come

The inauguration of President Obama ushered in a giant change in America.

Dr. Joseph Lowery former president of Southern Christian Leadership conference delivers the benediction as Barack Obama takes the oath as the 44th President of the United States of America.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure….”

Marianne Williamson

Quote- A. Philip Randolph "Salvation for a Race"

Introduction-The Purpose of this book

Quote- Dr John Henrik Clark

Chapter I-America

Quote- Carlos Bulosan "America is in the Heart"

Immigration Timeline

The Naming of America

Discovery of America

The Formation of America

Reason for Colonization

Quote--John Hope Franklin

Chapter II-Slavery and Discrimination

Label My Race Human

The Beginning of Slavery in the United States

Slavery as an Economy

Quote-Charles Evan Hughes

Dred Scott Decision

Racial Discrimination

Chapter III-Voices of Change

The Civil Rights Movement /Organizations

Chapter IV-Biographies of Notable Contributors to America's Growth…

Activism and Abolitionism

Government Leaders

Religious Leaders

Scholars and Educators

Inventors/ Scientist

Artists, Architects, and Designers

Authors and Publishers

Business

Sports

Film, Television, Entertainment and Media

Videos

A Change Has Come

Yes, We Can

Martin Luther King

From Martin to Obama

Lift Every Voice

We Shall Over Come

Why We Are Proud

We Can Change the World

The Dreams of Generations

Rev. Rick Warren
The Inventor of the Supersoaker

Gone Too Soon/Heal the World
It's a New Day

Chapter V-List of America's Contributors in All Areas

Bibliographies

Black Codes & Example

The Author

“Salvation for a race, nation or class must come from within. Freedom is never given; it is won.”

Philip Randolph

Asa Philip Randolph (April 15, 1889 – May 16, 1979) was a prominent twentieth-century African-American civil rights leader and the founder of both the March on Washington Movement and the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, a landmark for labor and particularly for African-American labor organizing.

The Purpose of This Book

As a homeschooling parent it came across the mind of my youngest daughter to ask about a history book which talks about all the races within its bounded pages. She is a born optimist and hates the way we as adults seem to enjoy racial profiling. I as the mother and her instructor in life wanted to give her what she wanted, but I could find none. So, as a home-school project we decided to write our own, Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History.

We chose to use Wikipedia as our “listed” resource because it was established by the people. People with interest in America's history, proud of their own heritage and who believed enough in themselves to gather and write about the people, organizations, and all fractions of society that helped to make America the great nation it has become and if anyone has a problem with it, they can go in and change history.

What better way, or so it seemed to us to celebrate America and it's freedoms than with a system established by the people with or without its faults and illusions. We believe in America and whenever we had doubt about the information we did go and check the information out at other sources and found Wikipedia to be pretty much correct on more information than not and the biggest factor was that it was so easy to use. I for one loved the way a ‘list’ of each race was simple to pull up and then research. And hey, I just wanted to see a history book that put everyone's contribution together and not separated by race or hyphenation.

America has had great contributors within every century working hard together and yet each race would like to pull out their certain pages and categorize them into their own history book. And we truly believe if someone has a problem with our choice they would have to deal with it or well, get over it. Our main focus is to try and eliminate the division of a great nation by a single line, the hyphenation.

America as a nation has many problems and yet what other country in the world can attest to the fact that people or dying to be here? There is a dream in their heart to be a part of this great nation and to live in the land of good and plenty as a member of one body. So why do we keep the line of separation as a constant reminder? The hyphenation, which line that separates all races and the word American.

The elimination of the hyphenation that is placed to distinguish White Americans from African (Black), Chinese, Arab, Indian, Japanese and every other race would be an immense triumph for Americans. That hyphenation continues to put a space between the races that are naturally born and the races that have chosen to become Americans. And we are that, Americans that have contributed enormously to the growth of the great United States. If each of our histories were celebrated everyday and our children were taught to value all histories, contributions, and differences we wouldn't have to wonder what Dr. King would think about us today. We live in different times and we now play on a different game field from or ancestors and we need different tactics to fight the causes of today. Beads on a String- America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History chooses not to be about a certain color, but about a certain nation, America.

Why is all of the hyphenation and hating going on in America? Why is such a distinction made before we are labeled Americans? African (sorry I don't come from Africa.) Arab, Asian, Black, Chinese, Hispanic, Native. I don't see anything about White-American or European-American. Who made this 'hyphenation' up and why are we accepting a line that separates us? I feel that we as Americans are all equal and held together by a common thread. Like a treasured beaded necklace of different colors held together on a string, we are held together by our necessities and our circumstances and our humanity. Every color helps to make the necklace beautiful. We can never be a totally separate entity. Americans of all colors are so integrated that if we hurt one, we hurt all. Just like that necklace of treasured beads, leave one out and the gap is seen. Break the chain and many of us are lost.

We believe that there are no pure races in America. Once Africans loved and integrated with Native Americans and the White man brought the first boat of Black slaves to America and raped their women, the 'pure' races were put to an end because nine months later, some woman had the first mixed baby. This integration happened again and again within all races. We are such a mixed breed of people in America that it has become hard to distinguish one race from another just by looking in a face. Some Blacks were so light skinned that they married into the White race and no one knew and may never know. Light to White skinned babies were being born and no one knew if they were Black or White and it did not and does not matter because they were born into the human race. Once free, they became American citizens. As does anyone born into this country, or anyone that chooses to come into this country and become an American.

How many pure races are living America? From what we see, love among the races is flowing freely. Don't forget what happened to our fore-parents. Let us not repeat it. Let go of what happened in the past. I am not saying that there is not prejudice in the world. What I am saying is this, when we are fighting for a 'cause' we must remember we are fighting the system and not a person. We have to be diligent in collecting facts, have an unbreakable, unbeatable plan, and remember all of our foes may not be of one color. Pay attention to the present. What we consider 'small things' is happening daily in the schools; on the jobs; in the government. Pay attention so we don't step back in time. Stop trying to benefit from the past. Everyone that was involved in the mayhem and destruction of the families and the souls of the slaves are dead. We cannot charge nor punish them with anything and if we attack because of racial prejudice we may hurt our own. We take a chance of destroying an uncle, aunt, cousin, brother because roots run deep. We cannot change the past hurts, but we can change the present laws. The heart of man has to be dealt with by God. We should not dwell on the past. It stirs up hatred in young hearts that should only know peace. We know what happened to our fore-parents. Let us not repeat it.

It is time for America to let go of the past and heal itself. The grieving period should have been over and the healing started. But every year, old wounds are torn open by the words Black History Month. Why don't we teach the children about America's History with everyone included? To me it seems as if only a few Black people are pulled out of the closet, dusted off the shelves and paraded in front of America as if to say, 'this one wasn't worthless', this one wasn't stupid'. Why is the ‘black’ in capital letters? Is it to point out a person of color has a brain or is it to pronounce to the world we have pride? If there is so much pride in America for Native, African, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Iranian-Americans and other 'hyphened Americans, drop the hyphen and pull together and teach our children that every bead has a purpose and should be celebrated.

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PICTURE BOOKS
I believe the trailer is the best piece of excerpt for each book.
Visit "The Children's Corner"

Mhia is so upset about not being able to hug the sun her mom tell her the story of the antics the sun goes through to get a hug and she learns a little science in the end. Who Will Hug the Sun is part of a series of picture books titled IN MY SISTER’S WORLD .

BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM explores the advantages and disadvantages of being the middle child and shows how Gillean discovers she has the uniqueness of being the only sister with the ability to be either the eldest or the youngest child in the family.

What would you do to ease the fears of your child’s nightmares? In prose and illustrations, NOT A SOUND, NOT A PEEP shows how the family handles the nightmares of Mhia, the youngest child in the family

If you would like to review either of the picture books, please contact me.

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IN THE CHAIR-You Gotta Hear This

Scenes of Love & Romance

When One Door Closes

Love & The Women of the Hill | Valentine's Day

Love and the Perfect Solution|Valentine's Day

A Synopsis of America's True History

How Blatant Can You Be? I'm Begging for Reviews

i. Sometimes Life Sucks

THE PERFECT SOLUTION--A SUSPENSE OF CHOICES

Anger destroys a relationship.

A teenage babysitter decides to go to college.

A single parent places her child in daycare.

A three year old is mistakenly given to a stalker by his pre-school teacher.

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Beads on a String-America's Racially Intertwined Biographical History

EXCERPT:

ABOUT THE BOOK

This is an independent research and education project

CONTENTS

Chapter I-America

Chapter II-Slavery and Discrimination

Chapter III-Voices of Change

Chapter IV-Biographies of Notable Contributors to America's Growth…

Yes, We Can

Martin Luther King

From Martin to Obama

Lift Every Voice

We Shall Over Come

Why We Are Proud

We Can Change the World

The Dreams of Generations

Rev. Rick Warren The Inventor of the Supersoaker

Gone Too Soon/Heal the WorldIt's a New Day

Chapter V-List of America's Contributors in All Areas

The Purpose of This Book

Rev. Rick Warren
The Inventor of the Supersoaker

Gone Too Soon/Heal the World
It's a New Day