by Mz. Robinson
G STREET CHRONICLES PRESENTS
THE LIES WE TELL FOR LOVE
by
MZ. ROBINSON
Copyright 2012 Mz. Robinson
Published by:
G Street Chronicles
P.O. Box 490082
College Park, GA 30349
www.gstreetchronicles.com
[email protected]
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written consent from both the author, and publisher G Street Chronicles, except brief quotes used in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real person. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, entities, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author/publisher.
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Dedication
“There are some people who show complete selfless acts of kindness that we do not understand but we must give thanks for.”
Mz. R
This book is dedicated to my attorney Rebekah Graham. Rebekah, I can never say, “Thank You” enough for what you and your team did for me. I can not tell you how grateful I am for meeting you and how much you have touched my heart.
Best Wishes & Blessings,
Mz. Robinson
Reflections of April 27, 2011
On this day race, denomination, nor class mattered; we were all vulnerable—helpless to a much greater power. We lost things, places, and sadly we lost loved ones. Today, although much has been re-constructed, we will forever carry the memories of that day and those we lost in our hearts and embedded in our souls. However, let us remember the lessons learned and the love that was shared. Let us never forget that when we come together and pray together, we can bounce back better than we ever were.
P.S. I have never been more proud of my city than I was during the days that followed the storms. I have never seen such unity, compassion, and love being shown. It was truly remarkable.
R.I.P. to all of those who were called home. You are gone but you shall never be forgotten.
Mz. R
Acknowledgements
To my Lord and Savior. You never cease to amaze me. I will never understand why you love me as you do or why you continue to shine your mercy and grace upon me. However, I am thankful and I will forever give you the highest praise. Thank you for sparing mine and my families lives on April 27th. I still marvel at the power you hold and I know and truly understand that we are not here because of our own doing but because of your grace and mercy.
To my parents, Ray and Shirley. Daddy and Mommy, the two of you listen to each and every ideal I have and you embrace them without passing judgment. I love you for that. You have learned to accept the individual that I am and you allow me to be me. I thank you for your prayers and your unconditional love. I love you!
To my bestie Banita Brooks. You are such a wonderful woman and an amazing friend. I have said it before and I will say it again—I could not have asked for a better sister. Blood means nothing when it comes down to loyalty and truth. I love you.
To my Uncle Kenneth. You are a great uncle and an awesome friend. As a child I could always depend on you and I am happy to say I still can. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing when we call you are there. I will never ever be able to repay you for how you were there after the storm and you worked like our home was your home. That is real love. You are a blessing and I love you!
To my uncles Michael, Harold, and JT. Thank you for bringing food, water, and just stopping by. Your love and kindness is forever appreciated. I love you all.
To my Uncle Dennis. Thank you for lending your tools, generator, and your helping hand. You said you were coming and you came. You shared and gave selflessly. I love you!
To Tammy. I still remember being a little girl and going places with you and how when I got out of line you would pinch me or pull my ear. I’m laughing now but it wasn’t that funny back then. You have always shown my mother the love and concern of a sister and growing up you were more of an aunt than a cousin. To this day you are still supportive no matter what and for that I am very thankful. I love you!
To the Caudle, Massey, Warner, Walker, and Leslie Families. I love each and every one of you!
To K.J. I never know what you’re going to say or do and sometimes all I can do is shake my head. However, I love you and we will forever be friends.
To Valerie Ann Williams. Thank you diva for your support and for always having a POSITIVE word to say. Love ya Val.
To the readers, fans, reviewers, and authors. If I could name each and every one of you I would. However, I will say thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me love and supporting my work. Thank you!
S/O to the ladies of Wal-Mart, Huntsville Hospital, and my girls in Chattanooga( Ari & Ra-Ra). Thank you for the love and support!
To my editor Autumn. Thank you.
To Dashawn Taylor of Hot Book Covers. Thank you.
To the G Street Chronicles team. We are destined for greatness. Let’s get it.
To Shawna A. Grundy, G Street Chronicles VP, thank you for everything. I truly appreciate your feedback and your words of encouragement.
Last but not least to G Street Chronicles CEO, George Sherman Hudson. Thank you for believing in my talent and gifts. You’ve taught me that it doesn’t matter what the situation may be, you can do anything you put your heart and hustle into. Love and Respect Always.
Prologue
Do you know how hard it is to know that the man you love, the man that you’ve always loved is not only locked by vows to another woman but that his heart is hers as well? Do you know how it feels seeing the man whom you gave your body to openly and without hesitation and surrendered your heart to with no limits, look at another woman like she is the source of love and life itsself? I do.
I sat in Humphries, in the back of the restaurant in a small booth built for two, with the latest edition of Radar Magazine laying on the table in front of me. I had flipped to page 26 and was looking at the February feature for what had to be the tenth time. I frowned as I looked at Damon and his trophy wife Octavia. Damon looked handsome, as always. He wore a black one button Tuxedo and a classic white shirt with a platinum color tie. His Carmel colored skin was just as I had remembered it; smooth and flawless. The lighting from the camera reflected delicately off his smooth bald head and his dark b
rown eyes seemed to penetrate me from the page, causing a dampness in between my legs like morning dew on the petals of a rose. Octavia wore a platinum haltered evening gown that flowed to her toes. The dress hugged her body and had an elegant mermaid hem. Her jet black hair fell over her shoulders in a bundle of loose curls. I’m far from a hater. I believe in giving credit where credit is due, the broad looked good. I’ll give her that. I can see why Damon was infatuated with her; skin the color of brown-sugar, eyes the color of honey and when it came to her figure, she was working with a banging physique. Damon stood behind her with his hands planted firmly on her waist. The two of them were smiling, showing two sets of perfect-white teeth. They looked liked something an artist created, pulling their images from the deep crevices of his untamed imagination—a portrait of perfection and poised elegance. The heading gracing the page in which they were featured read, Successful Black Love: Overcoming All Obstacles. I laughed out loud, drawing un-wanted attention to myself from the eyes of some of the other patrons in the restaurant. I flashed them a look that subtly asked, “Is there a problem?” Turning my head I stared in front of me, focused on nothing in particular, thinking about Damon and the last time I felt his touch. I still remember his strong hands caressing the curve of my back, the sound of his voice whispering in my ear and yes the way he brought me to multiple orgasms. He is still to this day the only man who has been capable of accomplishing such a task. I love everything about Damon and I fantasize about the day he becomes mine. I longed to be the one posing with him, the one to whom everyone referred to as Mrs. Whitmore—the one whose legs he spreads apart daily and to whom he made gratifying love. I was supposed to be that woman! I deserved to be that woman! I could feel my rage surfacing, bubbling slowly like lava waiting to push its way through the bounds of the Earth. Now that I think about it, I should have gotten rid of Octavia when I had the chance. I should have told her the truth about her husband. She would have dropped Damon like a pair of sweat-drenched thongs on top of a pile of dirty laundry. How do I know? Because Octavia is a simple woman—predictable—she doesn’t have the dirt inside of her to be with a man like Damon. Damon is a man who has no problem with breaking a law or two to get what he wants. He goes against the grain…he’s a bad boy in designer clothing. A man of his caliber needs a true ride or die bitch. He needs a woman who has no problem with getting her nails a little dirty or even bloody to get what she wants—a woman like me. Looking at my watch I saw that my lunch date was running late. I had specifically requested that he meet me at noon, it was now five minutes after. What if he changed his mind? I thought. I was preparing myself to call him, when I saw a man walking in my direction. He was tall with skin the color of chocolate. He wore a tan colored suit and gold tie. He slid in the booth, sitting so that he was facing me.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said. I stared at him, admiring his features. I was finally able to put a face with the voice I had been speaking with for the last two weeks. He was handsome…handsome enough that if I wasn’t already in love with Damon I might have considered giving him a chance. However, until I have my man I’ll give him a little action. After all, Damon was knocking Octavia’s back out on a regular, while I was forced to trust my satisfaction to my fingers and my little friend Jack Rabbit. Hell, I needed someone to tie me over until I was sitting, standing and laying in Octavia’s place.
“Not a problem,” I said.
“You said you had an assignment for me?” He clasped his hand together in front of him, resting them on the table. He stared at me, attempting to remember where he knew me from I’m sure.
“I do.” I looked at him without elaborating.
“What is it?” He seemed somewhat impatient.
“I want you to help me secure a deal,” I advised him.
“What kind of deal?”
“Damon Whitmore.”
“You want me to help you secure a deal with Damon Whitmore?” He looked puzzled.
“Damon is the deal,” I smiled.
“I don’t understand.”
“I want Damon,” I said, bluntly, “and you’re the man who’s going to help me get him.”
“And what makes you think I would help you?” he asked, sarcastically.
I reached down in my leather bag that I had sitting on the seat next to me and pulled out the green folder I had tucked neatly inside. I placed the folder on the table in front of him.
“Open it,” I told him. I watched as he read over the information I provided him.
“How’d you find out all of this?”
“Much like you, I have ties with Damon,” I said, proudly. “When you have the right connections no information is unobtainable.” He closed the folder then pushed it across the table to me.
“And why would I help you? How will any of this benefit me?”
The mere fact that he was still sitting with me and talking to me, told me he was interested. The gleam in his eye as he studied the documents I provided him, told the story that I had opened a door for him that he himself wasn’t capable of opening himself.
“I think we both know how you’ll benefit,” I replied. “Money.”
“And you?”
“I told you,” I said, staring at Damon’s picture. “I want Damon.”
Chapter 1
Damon
“Please explain to me why you keep allowing yourself to be treated like a hoe,” I snapped, staring across the desk at Alicia. The two of us sat in my office discussing Kenny, the father of her daughter and the husband of my wife’s best friend.
“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked, looking completely dazed and confused.
“You’ve been running behind Kenny for how long now?” I asked. “Six, seven years? And he still married someone else,” I snapped, shaking my head.
“He stayed with her for money,” she said defensively. “Kenny loves me.”
“What is it about your situation that makes you think he loves you?” I asked. “Because he cheated on his wife with you?” I questioned. “Or maybe it’s because he knocked you up,” I said, drumming my fingers on the desk.
Silence.
“His cheating with you was just sex,” I said firmly, “and getting you pregnant was a result of bad judgment.”
“Kenny loves Kiya!” she snapped.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” I said calmly. “She’s a part of him. But the man doesn’t love you, Alicia,” I continued. “Think about it. He only loves the fact that you’re convenient.”
“Convenient?”
“Yes, convenient,” I repeated slowly. “It’s like one-stop shopping. He stops by late at night or whenever he has a few minutes on his hands, and he’s in and out, so to speak.”
Silence again.
“Picture a 7-Eleven,” I continued, “only rather than gas or a little snack, he picks up pussy or some head. You’re a grab and go for him,” I said, staring into her eyes. “Only a hoe would make herself readily available for a man whose not even hers.” I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. I knew my method of teaching was harsh, but there are some women who only understand tough love, and Alicia was one of them.
“I’m not a ho, Damon,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Then stop acting like one,” I said. Looking at the airtight spandex dress she was wearing, I frowned. The dress dipped extremely low in the front, only barely covering her nipples and not much else. “And stop dressing like one,” I added. “Leave something to the imagination. If you want a man to love you—and I mean really love you—you have to learn to love yourself,” I said. “And despite what you or the next woman says, any woman who feels like she has to set out to get a man or dress like a tramp doesn’t know what self-love is.”
I had my reasons for wanting to put Alicia up on some game. First, I have a daughter, and I know if she was playing herself, I would want someone to pull her aside and try to talk some sense into her. My other reason was the fact that Alicia and I had history. Looking at he
r in that moment, it was hard for me to believe she was the same headstrong take-no-shit girl I knew from way back. It was even harder to believe there was a time when the two of us were actually a couple. Granted, we were both teenagers, but when you see some people or certain things happen, they bring back a flood of memories. I still remember to this day how Alicia and I met.
It was my junior year at Lakeside High, and I was standing in the hallway, just talking shit with a few of my boys when I saw this skinny, awkward-looking girl stumbling down the hall. It was the first day of school, and Alicia was an incoming freshman. I remember she had on a denim skirt that went all the way down to her ankles, along with a matching denim jacket. She was carrying an armful of books and a schedule in her hand. When somebody bumped into her, it sent the load she was struggling with everywhere. I stepped away from the crowd I was standing with and went to offer my assistance.
“I got it,” she said, stacking the books up before I could touch them.
“If you had it, you wouldn’t have dropped them.” I laughed.
She looked up at me and frowned. “Like I said,” she said, standing slowly, “I got it.”
I remember she marched off, leaving me standing in the hallway with my mouth open and my ass being cracked on by all my boys. My ego was somewhat insulted but not broken. Now that I think about it, even back then I was persistent as hell when it came to getting what I wanted.
Eventually, after I posted up outside Alicia’s homeroom class for two straight weeks, she broke down and gave me the time of day. The two of us were an item from that point on, practically inseparable during school hours. I took her to her first high school dance, her first prom, and I was the one to take her virginity. We went together until the summer of my senior year, when Alicia’s family mysteriously packed up and left Atlanta. I was young, and although my family had money even back then, I knew nothing about using your resources to get what you need. Truth be told, within three weeks after she left, I had another girl on my arm, and Alicia was just a distant memory. I discovered that Alicia Green was my Alicia, better known as “Lee-Lee” from Lakeside when I hired an associate of mine by the name of Lawrence to do some research on the woman who was wrecking Octavia’s best friend’s home.
