Aiden’s eyebrow swung up. “None at all, chief,” he answered.
“Good. My wife and her sisters are throwing a welcome home party and asked if I knew any unmarried Chiefs who would like to join us.”
Brian didn’t respond.
Aiden chimed in. “Sure thing. We’ll be there with bells on.”
“Great! I’ll text you the details. See ya there! By the way, her sisters are single.”
“Not another set-up,” Brian grumbled, causing Aiden to nudge him in the side.
They climbed the ladder to the hanger bay and ventured across just in time for all Senior Chiefs to be released.
“We’re walking to an empty car to go to an empty house,” Brian said. “And you don’t find anything wrong with that?”
“Not this subject again.” Aiden accelerated his speed, leaving Brian behind.
“Fine, you win.” Brian conceded. “Forget I said anything. Maybe there’ll be some interesting ladies at the party tonight.”
Aiden gave him a toothy grin. “Now you’re talking my language.”
Chapter 11
Keri slid behind the wheel of her BMW Convertible and sighed.
“I sure do thank you for the invitation.” Celeste fastened her seatbelt and slid a pair of Versace sunglasses down on her smiling face. Keri wasn’t wearing a matching expression. “I love a good road trip. And a whole weekend, too? Yes, yes y’all!”
Celeste chattered away while Keri focused on maneuvering through the traffic on Highway 165N.
Between Celeste’s one-sided talk of fashion, reality TV shows, and the handsome sailors they knew, Keri missed her turn.
Celeste’s voice trailed off and she glared at Keri. “Wait, I thought we were going to the ship yard? I was looking forward to seeing Aiden.”
“No, I have someplace else I need to be,” she said, whipping onto the westbound entrance ramp of Interstate 20. “Shane has box seats for both of us at the game. Look on the back seat.”
Celeste glanced over her shoulder, then squealed with joy. “Your boy is too cool for sending us these jerseys.” She reached back and rubbed her fingertips across the white letters on the navy blue material.
“I’m going to the skyyyyy box! I’m going to the skyyyyy box!” She sang, shaking her shoulders in a little happy dance. Her moves came to an abrupt halt when they whizzed past the old State Farm Building and past the place where they need to exit to get to the stadium. “Woman, you’re driving me crazy,” Celeste barked. “Stop the car!”
Keri pulled into the nearest Chevron station and took a breath.
Celeste jammed her hand in her purse and pulled out an iPad. “If this is any sign of how the entire trip will be—”
“What are you doing?”
“Plan ‘B’—looking up flights!” Celeste shot back, furiously tapping the keys. “I’m not about to let you kill me today!” She turned the screen to face Keri. “See? There’s a flight to Dallas/Fort Worth leaving in an hour and a half, and one to Norfolk International leaving in two hours. We’re only ten minutes from the airport.”
Keri glanced down at Celeste’s chest, which was heaving in an effort to catch her breath. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a freaking heart attack!” She lowered the iPad, softening her tone as she said, “But first, I’m going to step outside the car. You need to have a talk with God or something. I just hope He’s not long-winded.”
Celeste slammed the door and marched to the store entrance.
When her friend’s slender form disappeared through the glass doors, Keri closed her eyes. Your answer will come. Those words drifted to the surface and she felt at peace. Finally, Keri called on the Creator for guidance.
Several minutes later, Celeste buckled up in the passenger seat, and Keri floored the pedal to Monroe Regional Airport.
Chapter 12
AUGUST 6
The Dallas Cowboys were tied at twenty-eight against the San Diego Chargers. AT&T Stadium was filled to capacity with roaring fans enjoying their Sunday afternoon pastime.
The announcer addressed the crowd. “Shane McCoy is playing exceptionally well today. He’s averaging twelve yards per carry and with five minutes left in the game, he’s on pace to total more than two hundred yards.”
“Time out,” Head Coach Jason Garrett called out, allowing for a commercial break.
The players took a knee on the sideline.
Jay Scott, the wide-receiver, leaned over, asking, “Hey Shane, what did your girl decide?”
“I don’t know yet,” he replied. “I told her to come today if her answer is yes.”
“Is she here?”
Shane sighed. “Look man,” he said to his teammate. “I’m trying to concentrate on winning this game first. Then, I’ll check the box.”
Even though they were the odds-on favorite, games could be won or lost in a split-second. Especially if players weren’t focused on what mattered. He’d sort the Keri James issue out in a few minutes; after he handled the business that his team and the fans depended on him for.
Jay gave him a sheepish smile.
Shane slapped the man’s helmet. “Keep your mind in the game. Women will come later.”
“True that,” Jay agreed.
The whistle blew, signaling the start of the last play.
The minute the clock started, Shane took off toward the end zone, breaking tackles, whipping around the defensive lineman gunning for him, and jumping over the cornerback before he crossed the goal line for the victory.
“And that’s the end of our ballgame, ladies and gentlemen. Cowboys 34, Chargers 28.”
The rest of the team roared in celebration, Shane ran to the fifty-yard line and lifted his eyes to the skybox.
Chapter 13
Keri took in her surroundings and wondered if this could really be her life. She stood with the thousands of people all cheering for one person or another.
Celeste’s eagle sharp eyes could spot a tall gorgeous man on another planet. She pointed and said, “Look, there he is!”
Keri’s damp eyes snagged on the one man who she knew, because of his commitment to God, would be equally as committed to her.
“Keri!” he shouted over the crowd of onlookers and raced towards her.
She ran, pushed, and dodged around the crowd frantic to reach him. His arms winged open and she jumped into an embrace that she wished could go on forever.
Brian’s kiss was passionate, intense, and soul-stirring. Heck, it was even better than the last one he gave her. This was a hello-kiss, an I adore you kiss, a you’re my everything kiss. This was an I love you kiss.
He pulled away, gave her a once-over and said, “You look amazing.”
Decked out in his dress white crackerjack and shiny shoes, he looked every bit as handsome as she remembered.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, sailor,” Keri complimented.
As Celeste fell in step while chatting it up with Aiden, Keri scanned the area where other family members awaited the return of their loved ones. Children held signs that read “Welcome home, Dad.” Men carried fresh red roses. People were shouting, clapping and shedding tears of joy.
“Does this mean you’re going to be in it for the long haul?” he asked, pulling her against his chest.
“Absolutely,” she whispered, laying her head against his chest. “You’re the kind of man any woman would be lucky to have and you’ve chosen me. So my answer is yes, I’m ready to give it my all.”
Tanishia Pearson-Jones is the owner of Pearson Literary Group, which provides amazing book reviews and manuscript evaluations for a wide range of writers, including national bestselling authors. Her first publishing venture is in “Baring it All: The Ins and Outs of Publishing” which was penned with eleven other industry professionals and authors. Tanishia has currently branched out into writing romance and has a body of work in Signed, Sealed, Delivered … I’m Yours, a romance anthology produced by Macro Literary All-Stars (M-LAS).
She is also the founder and president of Characters Book Club of Delhi, Louisiana. Visit her website at www.pearsonliterarygroup.com.
Living for the City
by D. J. McLaurin
Chapter 1
Tenley’s teeth gritted against the balloon of anger growing in her chest. She slipped in through the front door and rushed past family members in various acts of preparation for her niece’s birthday, intent on making it to her bedroom before her screams erupted.
Fallon, Tenley’s older sister, dropped the ribbon of paper she was taping to the wall and tried to scramble backward down the ladder. “Where are your bags? I thought you went to the store—”
Tenley cleared the threshold of her bedroom and slammed the door on Fallon’s words, her first thought being how grateful she was to even have a door. The next thought was how grateful she was that she was alive. How could they attack me? Everyone knows my family.
“Tenley?” Concern amplified Fallon’s voice.
Tenley crossed her arms and rocked her back against the door.
“Ten?”
The residual aftershock of fear had rendered Tenley unable to speak. She never dreamed she’d be one of those victims described in town hall meetings. In her mind, should anyone attack her, she’d fight like a wildcat. Yet, her survival instincts had prevailed, and she had handed over everything to a selfish stranger who left her with only her clothing, shoes, and a sense of horror that made her heart bolt forward, pumping in rapid succession inside her chest.
On the other side of the door, Fallon’s crying mingled with Tenley’s.
“Mama!” Fallon called out.
Through her sobs, Tenley heard the doorknob jiggle. “Ten?” Meryl Lyman called out to her daughter. “What’s wrong, hon? What happened?”
Tenley stumbled to the twin bed and crawled into it, scooting until her back touched the headboard and wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Marcel,” Fallon called to her son. “Go outside and see if you can find Lonnie!”
“Tenley, open the door!” Meryl cried, as the doorknob jiggled again, followed by a house-shaking bang, bang, banging that had to be Fallon’s work.
It wasn’t long before Lonnie was adding his appeal. “Hey, Ten! Open up. It’s me.”
As if she didn’t know that. Tenley and her brother had actively fought against crime in their neighborhood, passing out flyers and staging protests against a mayor who had relegated the working-class community where she grew up to insignificance.
The thought that she, a community advocate, was just as unsafe in her own neighborhood as the woman who suffered unmentionable violation just a few days ago, was unimaginable.
Had she not patrolled the streets with her brother and his friends Slade and Jason? They were all members of the Neighborhood Watch, scrounging up supporters and preaching safety in the community. Had she not spit in the face of her city’s reputation as the murder capital of the world? Had she not vowed that Chicago would shake off this notorious distinction and evict their passive-aggressive mayor, with members of Sowell Gardens leading the charge? Yet, in a winking moment, she had been reduced to a frightened mute.
The thought popped the lid off of her sanity, and the cries she dared not utter in that dark alley wound their way up her chest and out of her throat until finally, Tenley screamed.
Chapter 2
Wrestling her emotions, Tenley managed to quiet her wails to a whimper but still could not bring herself to leave the bedroom. At breakneck speed, Tenley’s mind replayed the moment she had anticipated her death.
She saw nothing but darkness—although the sun’s daylight had just begun to fade—and felt nothing but stunning fear and the coolness of steel bleeding through her blouse to her skin. Her first instinct was to cry out.
“Don’t,” her assailant commanded. He held a sleepy-eyed infant in one arm and used his other hand to thrust the barrel of a pistol into her ribs.
“Try it, and I’ll blow a hole in your chest.”
A woman stepped out from behind him, and for a few frightening minutes that felt like a few frightening years, Tenley was thoroughly robbed until, finally, her assailant lowered the gun from her chest and slipped into the shadows.
Paralyzed with shock, Tenley stood in the alley a spell longer. She was terrified and as rigid as a pole. She tried—and failed—to regulate her breathing. Her eyes adjusted to the dreariness, and a hint of surprise registered. A small object lying in a puddle of shade caught her eye—a cell phone, possibly dropped by one of the assailants.
Tentatively, Tenley knelt to pick it up.
The thought that surfaced spurred her into action.
They might come back.
She ran, covering two blocks short of a mile in four-inch heels, even overtaking the bus she might’ve been riding had her life not been so violently interrupted.
Now, the locked door of her bedroom in her family’s home served as the barrier she needed to regain what was left of her peace of mind. But with so many people crammed into the small space and with the constant sounds of heated conversations, music, and television that dominated the house, maintaining that peace might prove difficult. For the first time in months, she wished for the comforts of her three-story home in a neighboring suburb.
Unfortunately, thanks to a mold takeover at her new house and a fire that swept through Fallon’s home in California, together with Katrina destroying her brother’s condo in the Big Easy, they were all back home living with their ailing mother in the Windy City.
Tenley now had more able-bodied people to support than she had time to think about it. Unfortunately, her family had become all too comfortable with Tenley taking care of them and didn’t appear to be putting much effort into moving out. Now, misfortune had the nerve to show up again. The house, the room, and all these beating hearts seemed to be closing in on her. She needed to be alone, and her bedroom was the only place in the house that would afford her that luxury.
Tenley needed to control herself. If she didn’t reel it in, and quickly, her brother, the radical, would take it to another level and have all of Sowell Gardens interrogated until he uncovered what happened to his sister.
“I’m fine, Lonnie. I just … I … I lost my purse.”
“Your purse!” Fallon shouted. “Was there money in it?”
“Tenley, open the door.” That was Lonnie. “Open the door, or I swear, I’m gonna kick it in.”
He meant every word. Lonnie was the most literal person alive.
Tenley sighed and moved to comply. She unveiled a collection of concerned faces peering at her the moment the door opened. “Don’t come in,” she warned them when she saw her mother start toward her.
Lonnie’s dark eyes were serious. “What happened?”
She didn’t really know. It all happened so quickly, and felt so dream-like, but she managed to choke out her story about the seemingly harmless couple with the cute little baby—and a gun. Who wouldn’t trust a couple with a baby?
“Call the police!” Meryl ordered before the story was even done. Tears welled up, blurring Tenley’s vision, and this time, Fallon’s eyes were leaking too.
“What are they gonna do?” Lonnie yelled. “They don’t care about people in Sowell! Ten, did you get a good look at them?”
She wished she had, but she had been so preoccupied with willing the gun to not discharge a bullet into her body. The male assailant was tall and wearing some kind of servicemen fatigues, holding a bald baby that might have been around seven months old. He had bushy eyebrows—yes, she remembered that—and the woman was petite and pale and…that’s all she recalled. By the time it occurred to her that she might need to describe her assailants in detail, it was too late. For by then, her vision was obscured by pools of drifting shadow and terror. “No, I didn’t. Just drop it. I don’t want to talk to the cops.”
“I’m not talkin’ cops.” Lonnie said, moving closer to her. “You give me something, anything—what they were wearing,
tattoos, moles, marks, something! We’ll find those—”
“Lonnie!” Meryl exclaimed.
“Look, I don’t remember much,” she sighed. “The guy may have been about my age and had on some type of army jacket, and the woman was small and … I don’t know …” A thought occurred to her. “Oh, and this…” Tenley dug into her jacket pocket and retrieved the phone. “One of them must’ve dropped it.”
Lonnie yanked the cell phone from Tenley, his eyes flashing with possibilities.
“What’s that?” Meryl asked.
“Nothing,” he said to his mother. He moved close to whisper to his sister. “No one is to know about this, you hear? No one.”
“Fine,” she said to her brother as he exited the room. She looked to everyone else. “Can you give me a minute to…” She peered over her mother’s shoulder and into the kitchen and asked. “What’s Fallon doing?”
Tenley was just closing the door when Fallon’s panicky voice floated back to them from the kitchen. From the snatches of conversation, Tenley could only assume the police were on the other end.
“No police!” Tenley screeched. “I’m not ready to talk to those hacks!”
About twenty minutes later, a banging on the bedroom door pulled Tenley from a fetal position on the bed. She heard the crackle of police chatter and froze.
Fuming at Fallon for calling the police and at herself for being unable to stop crying, Tenley shuffled slowly to the door and cracked it open. Two male officers, both relatively young—maybe thirty—stood at her threshold. They were an odd couple, one stumpy and blond with grey eyes, the other tall, with dark hair, creamy bronze skin, and eyes black as ink.
“I’m Officer Kyle Stanton,” Dark Eyes said. “This is my partner, Officer Nathaniel Neal. Can you tell us what happened?”
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