Naive
Page 24
Now as I am writing this letter to you, it is two weeks before I release my first novel to the world. I am nervous. Excited. Sometimes I struggle with getting caught up in the whirlwind, in thoughts of success. But then I have these moments, like right now talking with you. These are the moments I love… the ones of centeredness, of gratitude, of peace, of KNOWING that I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s all the success I need.
If you are struggling with passion, or perhaps wondering “what’s next,” try listening to that childhood whisper. It might just be waiting for you to give it a voice.
An excerpt from TRANSPARENT
book two of the Naive series, aVAILABLE NOW
“Why, Josh Harrison, you son of a gun,” Josh hears someone behind him, mimicking a Southern accent.
Josh turns around. “Why, Miss Hillary Gordon, as I live and breathe.” Josh overtly mocks her mocking him.
‘This is all your doing, right, you handsome Southern devil? 1 knew tonight was going to be amazing when I got this lovely invitation in the mail.”
She reaches into her purse to find it.
“You should see the gift bag,” Josh replies, anticipating Hillary’s “Ooh, aah” moment over the invitation.
Hillary is the 57-year-old wife of Walter Gordon, one of the pioneers of the recent Internet commerce re-emersion. Time had recently awarded him the title “Man of the Future.” In most business circles, he is considered one of the smartest men in the world, a former think tank member under Obama, respected, rich, and indispensable to many Fortune 500 clients who have benefited from his revolutionary tactics that consistently stayed ahead of consumer trends. Whenever Gordon announces a new method or product, it makes headlines, people flock around it, and his clients make money. And Hillary is his perfect wife. The constant, loyal, and proud companion. Poised, graceful, and personable, she is one of Josh’s biggest fans. And vice versa.
“Oh, lookey here,” Hillary says, pulling out her phone instead of the invitation. “You know, my husband Walter is running late, and I bet I just missed his call. Will you excuse me, please?”
Josh nods, turns around, and begins walking through the enormous crowd at the event. He allows himself to be proud of his accomplishment, this extraordinary event he has created for Élan. So many celebrities, so much media, he thinks. Damn, this is good.
Not paying attention to where he is walking, he bumps into a returning Jenna standing perfectly still. All the blood has drained from her face. She is pale, disengaged.
“Jenna, what’s wrong? Is Tracy okay? Michael? What?” Josh has never seen her like this. “Talk to me, please.”
She slowly scrunches her brow, trying to make sense of what she is about to say. She takes a deep breath.
“They’re at Union Square. Michael just picked up Tracy at her apartment. They were waiting for a cab, just... talking to me.” Jenna’s face has no expression.
“What happened? Jenna, you’re scaring me.” Josh moves closer to her and rests his hand on her shoulder.
“Then Tracy started screaming and handed the phone to Michael. Michael told me a man in a tux just fell down dead, practically in front of Tracy. He’d been shot in the back.” She begins to speak in whispered disbelief. “Michael said there was blood on Tracy’s shoes.”
“What? Oh, Jesus.” Josh takes Jenna’s hand. “Are they okay?”
“Josh... they said they recognized him, the man in the tux,” Jenna continues, finally looking at Josh directly in the eyes. “It was Walter Gordon.”
Josh pauses, looks down, then with widening eyes turns around to Hillary. At the same moment, Hillary drops her cell phone and falls to the ground.
They rush to her side and hold her. Barely coherent, Hillary begins to mutter, “My husband, my husband” over and over.
“I think I just heard him die.”
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