by Xyla Turner
“My wife,” he started. “She’s dying.”
Holy shit.
“W-w-what?” I stammered as my breath seized with the news of what he was saying.
Her frail body came into my mind, and all the pieces started to click as to what I’d seen the past few months. Her vigor was gone, and her body was slowly deteriorating away. This was a fast progression, and she was so young. A tear came to my eye, and before I knew it, multiple ones began to roll down my cheek.
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered out.
His dead eyes looked at me, and for once, I saw something else. It wasn’t there for long, but it was something else besides contempt—almost an honest sense of respect or camaraderie.
“She’s deteriorating fast because she’s not taking the medicine. The hard-headed woman refuses, and Casey . . .” His voice broke, causing him to swallow. His protruded Adam’s apple bobbed as he regained composure so he could continue. “Casey doesn’t know, and we don’t know how to tell him. Do you have any suggestions? I can’t think straight.”
My eyes were still wet, and watching his display of emotion didn’t help me one bit. Seeing a man cry or get emotional was a number-one trigger for me to do the same. Mr. Vega was always so tall, strong, and put together. I mean he’s an asshole, but tonight, he was a broken man, and even he deserved compassion.
“Uh . . .” I swallowed hard, so my voice could be steady. “Disney movies. Uh, the mother usually dies in a Disney movie or is not present, so we can play one, maybe Bambi or Finding Nemo. Something where the Mama passes away but her spirit lives on, and when he needs her strength, she will be there with him. That would be my suggestion. Casey is a smart boy, and it will hurt him still, but he’ll be able to understand it like that.”
As I was speaking, his head was nodding as if in agreement.
“Yeah.” He shook his head rapidly. “Yeah, that sounds great. You are good.”
I offered a half-smile because my being good would not change the fate of his wife. That was the worst news I heard in a long time. She was a great woman, and this would be devastating for Casey and Logan.
“Uh, Casey has a birthday coming up,” Mr. Vega began.
“Yes, it’s on the thirteenth,” I replied, causing him to look at me again with a respectful nod.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want him to have a great time with his mother, and I wanted to know if you can plan it. I’ll add extra to your—”
“Of course, Mr. Vega,” I interrupted him. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you, Faith.” He gave me an attempt of a smile. “No matter the cost, please speak directly to me about the party and not my wife. I want it to be a surprise. Uh . . . it might . . .”
He didn’t finish, but I knew what he was going to say. More tears came to my eyes, and I filled the silence by saying again.
“I’m so sorry,” I hiccupped. “She’s a beautiful woman, both inside and out.”
“Yes.” He nodded again, and this time, a tear escaped his ducts. “She is. Always will be.”
For fear of breaking down any more than I already was, I stood to my feet and asked, “Is there anything else you need me to do, Mr. Vega?”
“It’s Logan, and no, Faith.” He looked up at me. “You’ve done enough. She doesn’t know that I told you, but I figured you would be curious, so . . .” he cleared his throat. “If I haven’t said it before, I’m glad you’re here. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Logan.” I nodded and made a beeline for the front door.
I barely made it to the front of the house before I started bawling, with shoulders jerking and sobs escaping me, about the news I just heard. People die, I know, but why do the good people die? She had a five-year-old son and a husband who cared deeply for her. Why did she have to die? I was so upset, and the heaviness in my chest would not lift.
That night, I got no sleep. I stayed up thinking of the grandest party to have for Casey and started creating invitations and the guest list—people at school, his whole class, daycare, church, community center, neighbors, and since there were no relatives, even people I knew. I’m sure it would be okay, but since the Vega tribe was just the three of them, I wanted her to remember her son’s sixth birthday party. I wanted him to remember it too.
Whew! I’m telling you…Mr. Vega gets good! To keep reading this one, click here.
Mr. West - Ch. 1
Jonah West
“Fuck you,” she yelled. “Fuck all of you. I’m going to make something out of myself and then all of y’all motherfuckers will wish you had known me. You will remember me.”
This was why I hated doing these celebrity judge events. Granted, this was a television show, but the emotional response of when you let a contestant know that they have a lame-ass idea and their response is to curse you out. It was not my issue that their concept was faulty, and their business plan was lacking. The notion that they have a good idea and think people should just give money because to gamble on their success and the return on investment. Fuck that. That is nice that their parents believe in their dream, but that does not mean we, as investors, had to as well. This was not the shit that would make me come out of my pocket to invest in any fucking thing.
“If you’d calm down,” I interject with the irate woman.
She turned those burning hazel eyes on me and the red that was coming through her complexion, told me that she was about to pop out a blood vessel.
“If you would just listen to the advice,” I told her. “You have two judges that think you have something. Listen and stop being so damn angry. Nobody said you wouldn’t be successful. They clearly think this hodgepodge of an idea would work. I think it needs to be branded to another clientele and you need a legit business plan. It sounds ideal, but ideals do not make money. Hard work, dedication and planning that is grounded in research make money. So…”
Her head began to shake rapidly, displaying multiple layered colors under the straight brown hair. It was artistic, like her, with the vivacious language. She was a black girl with a chip on her shoulder, smarter than her attitude would show, but had some serious fucking issues. Pride is one of them. The woman did not know how to handle the word no. She was gifted. Anyone could see it, but her ego and pride would be the demise of her business. The woman was also a young and untamed wildling. A good man to bring her to heel would calm all of that shit down. Then she could be a contender. But, as long as the child within ruled her, she would have a hard time.
Sitting with a panel of three on Invest in the Best, similar to Shark Tank, I was an investor, who made my money by getting lucky and investing in solid plans. I loved the entrepreneur because that was how I got my start, when no one was doing that shit. I dropped out of college and never looked back. There was no need. A nine to five was never in my view, and neither was working for anyone. Most entrepreneurs had that same internal drive. I almost empathized with the young woman before me, because I was like that too. Until a mentor of mine swooped down and began to irk my nerves. Young, arrogant and on a mission, that was me. Clearly, I could recognize that in her, but it was in my failures that I saw my greatest triumphs. Dakota Bowers was a younger version of me.
“I do work hard. Harder than any of these contestants up here,” she pushed her open hand behind her, where the rest of them were backstage. “I work my ass off and none…”
I cut her off, because I’d had enough. Viewers would think that I was acting like the Simon from America’s Got Talent, but little did they know, that was just me. This would air live in a few months and she would get high ratings for her putting up a fuss. The network needed to make their money, but I swear the other judges backed up as they knew, I was the one that said no, that I would be the one to answer.
“Your attitude, Dakota.” I raised my hand to shut her up and then rose out of my seat. “It’s shit. You act like you’re the only person that works hard. Get a clue, girl.” I pointed to each of my fellow investors then continued to spea
k, “We’ve all got here, to sit on this panel and make calculated decisions, because we worked our asses off. So did the other contestants back there. You think they didn’t work hard; you’d be wrong. You think you’re owed something, and you are not.”
She kept trying to talk, but I was not through, so I kept overpowering her with the thundering bass in my voice. This, I knew, caused her to pipe down a notch. Her rage and since she wasn’t tamed, that fight was there, but she saw that I was the true alpha. The shit almost made my dick hard.
“Now, what you need to do, as I stated before, is fucking learn from this experience. You do not have time to bitch and moan about who didn’t support you. You listen. Just listen to the feedback you’re getting. It’s a great fucking concept but find a way to make it out to a broader audience. You’re limiting yourself and your brand. Why is your product only geared towards black people? Because you’re black? Think about it. White people have had to figure out how to sell to different types of consumers. What makes you think you’re any different? You need to sell to the other markets to be mainstream. Or, do you expect to live off the black dollar? Is that it? Think about your strategy. It’s short-sighted. Just listen to what we’re telling you. You don’t come out here, cussing people out. That is not what you fucking do. You eat the meat, Dakota, and throw away the bone.”
I was done. With that, I nodded, hiked my tailored pants up and sat down as Dakota stared at me, then she stormed off.
“Damn,” Alice, the judge on my left, whispered under her breath.
“Right,” Sherrod, the other judge on my right, echoed.
This caused me to get up and go to my dressing room. I was not sure how many more contestants we had, but I did not feel like sitting and turning these entitled millennials down. Shit, that woman, Dakota, was under my skin and I wasn’t even clear about why. My manager would call me later, to say that I went too far, but I also knew that they’d mute whatever language she or I used. The network would use that clip as the teaser and ratings would sky-rocket. Truly, but that’s not why I did it.
Fuck.
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About the Author
Xyla Turner is a USA Today Bestselling & award-winning, bestselling romance author. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, an avid reader of romance novels and a sucker for sassy women and dominant males. She is a high school educator and an awesome Auntie. Outside of reading, Xyla likes to spend time with her family and friends and travel. She writes different genres, but her favorite is romance.
Follow Xyla Turner
www.xylaturner.com
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Also by Xyla Turner
Billionaire Romance Series:
BOMBSHELL
Take A Knee
Always Right
Always Wrong
MISTER Series:
Mr. West
Mr. Vega
Across the Aisle Series:
Book 1: Trent
Book 2: Duncan
Book 3: Duncan’s Pride
Book 4: James
Stetson Series:
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
Meet Me Halfway: Stetson Series
Love At All Costs: Stetson Series
Tony & Ida: Stetson Series
Leaving Fletch
Crayson
Me Too Movement:
Book 1: Carter
Book 2: Declan
Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club Series:
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (1 - eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (2)
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC (3)
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC (4)
Dream Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (5)
Lady Guardians Serial
Justice: National Chapter - Book 1
Cut: National Chapter - Book 2
Goldie: National Chapter - Book 3
Double XX Series:
The Chase: Part I & II
Line of Duty Series:
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
10-24: Line of Duty Series
Far Rockaway University Series:
Love Under Attack: FRU Series
The F Student
Bookstore Chronicles Series:
No Returns: Part I & II
Bookstore Chronicles III
Non-Series Book:
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Cole [eBook & Audio]
Warren
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