by M. J. Kane
It wasn’t my fault.
No matter how many times I repeated the mantra; there were times when I didn’t see it that way. Regardless, it was true. My determination to remain financially independent of the man who loved me didn’t cause the rape. Javan’s malicious intentions did.
“Are you ready?” Brian asked.
I squeezed his hand. “Yes.”
Our weekly sessions with the counselor were exactly what we needed. If it weren’t for these meetings, I would never have known the depth of guilt Brian felt about what happened. He was slowly beginning to forgive himself for not seeing the signs suggesting Javan would become a threat.
One month down. We would continue to take these classes for as long as it took.
I peered up at Brian. The love I felt reflected back at me in his ocean blue eyes. He raised our linked fingers to his lips, kissing the back of my hand.
Together we walked in, ready to take another step in building our future.
We hope you enjoyed
The Butterfly Memoirs book 1
A Heart Not Easily Broken
Here is an excerpt from book 2
Jaded
Prologue
Dear Diary,
They call me, Slut, ‘ho, easy… and a few other words that I refuse to even write on paper.
Since middle school, people have taken one look at my light skin, grey eyes, and the shape of my body and assumed that’s who I was.
Assume.
The first three letters of the word described them. How dare they judge me? Nobody is perfect.
It has never mattered what I’ve done in my life. Being the daughter of a bi-racial marriage has always haunted me. With my fusion of graceful features I’d inherited from my white mother, the slender nose, cat-like eyes, vibrant smile, -and the take-no-shit attitude of my black father, people didn’t know how to deal with me.
Guys in school wanted to date me as if I were a trophy. Girls hated the color of my eyes and the texture of my hair.
Things got worse as I got older. Why? Because I love my body and I love sex.
But I never used either to earn money or favors from any man. I am a confident, educated woman who goes for what I want, regardless of what anyone around me has to say. If that means I want a good lay every now and then, I’m damn well entitled to it. But one thing I’d never be is a home wrecker.
My philosophy on love and relationships is simple, sex isn’t love, but it’s nice while you’re waiting.
Well, that’s what I used to think before the man I fell in love with trampled all over my heart.
And raped my best friend.
Love will never happen for me. No man will ever understand me. The real me.
Not my parents, not my brother, not even my best friends.
My life, my experiences – both good and bad - are what define the real me.
Yasmine
Chapter 1
“Dad is going to kill you for being late with this week’s report again.”
My younger brother’s words went in one ear and out the other as I typed furiously. “Why don’t you do it then, Brandon?” I spared him a glance.
He sat in the chair opposite of my desk with one leg across his knee, tapping out an impatient rhythm on the bottom of his shoe. When he frowned, he looked just like our father did when he was disappointed.
“It’s not in my job description. As Assistant Manager, my job is to ”
“Assist the manager, which is me. I’m busy. Therefore, it would be in both of our interest if you performed your job duties and assist me.” My stare was meant to intimidate.
Brandon, of course, ignored it.
He sighed heavily. “Yasmine, I love you and would do anything for you, but this is ridiculous. If you were working on anything else I would. This,” he waved his hand at the papers scattered across my desk, “has nothing to do with the hotel and everything to do with you. I’m not covering your ass this time.”
I stopped typing and glared at him. “Then if you’re not helping, stop bitching about it and get the hell out of my office.”
Brandon blew out a deep breath. “Yasmine, you have family obligations. Mom and Dad put you in charge of this hotel because of your superior business and customer service skills. You’re supposed to be training me to manage the new location.”
I groaned. Hearing about the third Phillips’ Family Inn was not on the top of my list of things to talk about. I appreciated the family business, especially since we went through so much to open the original location twelve years ago. Since graduating college, I’d been in charge of the daily ins and outs of the second location. I ran the place as if it were my own. However, it was not what I saw myself doing five years from now.
I had my own dream, which didn’t have anything to do with hotel management.
For the past year, arrangements to expand the bed and breakfast chain had been in the works. Opening the third Phillips’ Family Inn was months away. I applauded their work. In fact, their example inspired me to follow my own dream.
Besides, after all the pain I experienced in the past two months, I deserved to have something to call my own. Lately, it seemed no matter which way I turned, everything dealt with someone else’s wants and needs.
The phone in my office rang. Both of us looked at it. Brandon checked the time on his watch, a smug expression on his handsome face. I loved my brother, but sometimes, I wanted to slap him silly.
“Are you going to answer that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Phillips’ Family Inn, this is…oh, hi, Dad.”
“It’s after three-thirty. You’re late again,” my father said, irritation in his voice.
I winced, ignoring my brother as he mouthed, ‘I told you so’.
“I know. I spent most of my day trying to locate someone to cover Ms. Rose…again.”
Brandon muffled a laugh. I wasn’t lying, only embellishing.
Ms. Rose has been a family friend since before I was born. She’s in her mid-sixties and in no hurry to retire. My father met her thirty years ago when he worked as a bellhop at one of L.A.’s oldest hotels. Ms. Rose worked in housekeeping, which is the same thing she does here. When my parents opened the hotel, they offered her a job as Head of Housekeeping. She did a great job…on the days she came to work.
“What’s the problem this time?” my father sighed.
Oh, where to begin?
“Apparently a pipe burst in her apartment building, flooding the apartment next door. The apartment complex manager advised her to keep an eye on her floors in case it spread to her place.”
“Hmm,” he huffed.
“I called everyone who had the day off, but nobody was available. In the end, Susanne came in even though she’s on vacation. It’s going to cost though.”
“How much?”
“Time and a half pay in addition to her vacation pay. She worked for six hours.”
My father groaned.
Personally, I didn’t understand why Ms. Rose continued in our employ. Whenever I suggested she retire, my parents shot me looks as if I suggested firing grandma. I loved Ms. Rose, but constantly re-writing the schedule because of her absences took up too much of my time and was unfair to the other employees.
“Sorry, Dad, I did the best I could. The only other option involved Brandon carrying a bucket and doing the job himself.” I smiled; he shot me a look that said, ‘yeah right’.
“I need those reports, ASAP. Your mother has an appointment with the accountant in the morning. She needs to review everything before the meeting. If it doesn’t get here soon, she’s going to be upset.”
Oh boy. Dealing with my mom when she was upset is not a pretty sight. I could already imagine her grey-blue eyes staring at me in disappointment if she needed to reschedule.
“Yes, sir. You’ll have them tonight.”
Brandon shook his head when I hung up the phone a few minutes later.
“It will be there.” Ignoring him, I typed u
p the last few lines of my business plan and hit save. My attention went to the research information on my desk.
The plan was for my business, Dreams. For as long as I could remember, I lived for fashion. I stopped dressing up Barbie dolls and began designing outfits for my cousins. The ones I was allowed to play with anyway. I had plenty of cousins. Since members of my mother’s side of the family didn’t approve of her marrying my father because he was black, I rarely spent time with them.
It was a shame. I was nearly twenty-eight-years old and rarely spent time with my mother’s parents because of their prejudiced attitudes. Our skin was considerably lighter than our fathers. We spent more time with my father’s side of the family. They welcomed Brandon and me with open arms. I guess having skin darker than our mothers helped, despite our obvious Caucasian features.
When I was allowed to comb my cousin’s hair, I spent hours styling it. The difference in the textures always amazed me. Make-up followed; before long, I gave tips on how to dress for their dates and the prom.
Even now, years later, I was the go-to person in my family for fashion advice. Why continue doing what I loved for free? My research showed the demand for fashion consultants was on a rise, especially in Los Angeles, my hometown.
My paper work filed away, I turned back to my computer and opened the hotels accounting program. The screen went blank.
“Oh shit,” I groaned, flopped back into my chair, and put my hands on my face. “Shit, shit, shit…”
I sat up and flipped the power switch on the computer tower. A spark of energy flashed and the smell of smoke permeated the air. Brandon and I jumped; he lunged for the power cord while I ran for the fire extinguisher in the hall. By the time I returned the flames had burned out.
Brandon whistled and waved at the smoke filling the room. “I hope you saved that information on a backup drive.”
I grimaced. “No, I never got around to it.”
Not only were the hotel spreadsheets lost, my business plan was gone too. I was on the verge of tears.
He reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “So far, I don’t like the idea of being manager at the new location.”
“At this rate, you’ll probably replace me here.”
I needed to fix this screwed up situation, ASAP. The computer was still under warranty, thank God. This very computer crashed two months ago. The technician who’d come out recommended replacing it, even though he’d gotten it up and running again. My parents didn’t want to spend the money. Everything was tied up in securing the funding for the third hotel.
There was no choice. The computer needed to be replaced. They were not going to like this.
I dug the warranty paperwork out of the file cabinet. Sal-U-Tech had serviced our computers for years. The technician who’d come out was considerate, knew his business, and was not bad on the eyes.
I dialed the number listed on the receipt and waited impatiently for someone to pick up.
“Thank you for calling Sal-U-Tech, can you hold?” a squeaky voice said and put me on hold without waiting for my reply.
I cursed, hung up, and called again. When the line was answered, I cut the guy off. “I need to speak to…,” I looked for the name on the work order. His handwriting was hard to read. “Zachariah Givens.”
“Oh, Mr. Givens is on a call right now. Can you hold?”
“What choice do I have?”
Cheesy elevator music played. I spent the time trying to remember what the guy looked like. He was black, and if I remembered correctly, he was a few inches taller than me, but not by much. I was 5’7”, making him short for a man of my liking. If I wore my favorite stacked heels, I’d probably tower over him. He had a nice body and wasn’t skinny or overweight like the average computer nerd.
His eyes were what I remembered most, though. I could envision his dark hazel eyes hidden behind black square frames. They were the sexiest eyes I’d ever seen on a man.
Not that it mattered. A relationship of any kind was the last thing on my mind.
Minutes ticked by. It was nearly four o’clock. According to the paperwork, the store closed at five. I didn’t have time to wait. I hung up the phone and dialed the number on my cell. The same voice answered and put me on hold again. I gathered my purse and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Brandon asked.
“I am not waiting for him to come to the phone. I’m going over there and I’m not coming back empty handed. I’m bringing that Zachariah guy back and a new computer.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, and opened my office window to let in fresh air.
“Thanks.”
I needed all the luck I could get.
Meet the Author
M.J. Kane stumbled into writing. An avid reader, this stay at home mom never lost the overactive imagination of an only child. As an adult she made up stories, though never shared them, to keep herself entertained. It wasn’t until surviving a traumatic medical incident in 2006 that she found a reason to let the characters inhabiting her imagination free. Upon the suggestion of her husband, she commandeered his laptop and allowed the characters to take life. It was that, or look over her shoulder for men carrying a purple strait jacket. And the rest, as they say, is history.
No longer a television addict, if M.J. isn’t reading a book by one of her favorite authors, she’s battling with her creative muse to balance writing and being a wife and mother. She resides in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia with her high school sweetheart, four wonderful children, and two pit bulls. MJ can often be found hanging out at the local library where she is director of a local writer’s group, or online connecting with readers and other authors. Other activities she enjoys include: creating custom floral arrangements, assisting her children in their creative pursuits of music and art, and supporting her husband’s music production business, 3D Sounds.
You can find MJ on social networking sites, sharing writing tips, talking about music, life, and family. She’s always excited to meet new people. Connect with her via the websites below.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/MJKaneBooks
FB Author: https://www.facebook.com/MJButterflyBooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6034900-m-j-kane
Google+: https://plus.google.com/111337870949730559736/posts
Blog: http://thiswriterslife-mjkane.blogspot.com/
Email: [email protected]
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