Davonshire House Publishing
PO Box 9716
Augusta, GA 30916
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.
© 2015 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin
Copy Editor: Rachel Bishop, MA
Cover: koou-graphics
Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.
Printed in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8
First Pink Door Publishing February 2015
Davonshire House Publishing April 2015
Also by Olivia Gaines
Slice of Life
Friends with Benefits
A New Mommy for Christmas
Slivers of Love
The Cost to Play
Thursdays in Savannah
The Blakemore Files
Being Mrs. Blakemore
Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore
Dancing with Mr. Blakemore
Standalone
Santa's Big Helper
The Brute & The Blogger
Watch for more at Olivia Gaines’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Olivia Gaines
The Brute & The Blogger
1. A shot in the dark...
2. Staging the Room
3. Shut the Front Door
4. There goes the neighborhood
5. Say What Now...?
6. Relocating the property
7. Calling a truce
8. Who are you angry with me or yourself?
9. Tell me what I need to hear
10. Editing the content
11. Making an offer
12. The page break
13. Choking on a shrimp
14. A magical night
15. Drawing up plans
About the Author
The Brute & the Blogger
The Brute & the Blogger
1. A shot in the dark...
2. Staging the Room
3. Shut the Front Door
4. There goes the neighborhood
5. Say What Now...?
6. Relocating the property
7. Calling a truce
8. Who are you angry with me or yourself?
9. Tell me what I need to hear
10. Editing the content
11. Making an offer
12. The page break
13. Choking on a shrimp
14. A magical night
15. Drawing up plans
About the Author
Dedication
For every woman that loves a good story.
1. A shot in the dark...
Run.
Ebony Miller knew her car was close by, but right now it seemed miles away. She quickened her footsteps to hasten her distance from the door of the restaurant to where she had parked her nine year old Chevy. It was still not close enough. The faster she walked the faster he walked. Think Ebony. Think.
Tonight was not the best night to be in stupid five inch heels, especially when you were about to be mugged on a dark street by a man twice your size. Think Ebony. Purse. What is in your purse? Keys. Poke him in the eye with your keys. Ebony was nobody’s victim and she was not about to be one tonight. If this dude was going to make on move on her, he would have his hands full. She would not go down without a fight.
She turned to face her assailant, “I don’t have any money! I am on my period and HIV positive. You touch me, you are in a world of hurt!” In the dark shadows of the dimly lit street, she could still see the surprise on his face.
Ebony was almost disappointed when she saw the man who was about to make her his victim. He wasn’t twice her size but exactly two inches taller than she was and thin. Meth addict thin. Her imagination had made her see the worse, and in a knock down drag out fight, she could probably take this skinny, rail thin man. He stared at her with crazed eyes as he began to stutter, “Give me yyoooouuurr...mo...money...Bitc...”
He never got the last word out before Ebony reached behind her with a balled up fist and with everything in her, swung and socked him in the nose. The man groaned loudly as she lifted her high heeled Manolo Blahnik and kicked him first in the shin and then in the crown jewels. Or at least she tried as he caught her by the foot and lifted her leg high, depositing her backside on the wet pavement.
“Oh no you didn’t!” She yelled at him as she scrambled to her feet and started swinging her purse at him. The contents went flying left, right and in the air. Her car keys flew right at him and the man caught them easily. “Great! A meth head with dexterity!” Ebony stood there stunned as Meth Man pressed the alarm and her car, which she had not been able to find before, lit up as it answered the call from the key fob. Traitor.
The slim man tried to get past her, but Ebony jumped on his back and began to yell “Fire! Fire! Fire!” She saw the headlights barreling down on them, the driver blowing his horn. Her assailant turned quickly, shaking her off like a wet dog ridding his fur of excess water sending Ebony flying in the air, landing in the wet street, only a few inches from the bumper of her arriving rescuer. The Meth head climbed in her car, started the engine and drove off.
“Seriously? Seriously??” She yelled at her taillights, which were speeding off down the street.
“Miss, are you alright?” Her rescuer asked as he began to pick her strewn belongings up from the sidewalk.
Ebony turned to thank the person who had saved her only to come face to face with him! “Tino Boehner?”
“Oh God, you!” He said with his mouth downturned as if he had just eaten something sour, smelly and indigestible.
Her immediate reaction was to start yelling expletives, but she tried to control her temper. Tino, on the other hand was not as nice.
He told her, as he shoved her belongings at her, “If I had known it was you, I would have taken my time and let him beat your ass first.”
Ebony gave as good as she got, “And if I had known that you would be the person who would rescue me, I would have asked my father to leave my mother alone before I was even conceived!”
They stood on the sidewalk in the sprinkling rain in a Mexican standoff. There was no love between Tino and Ebony.
Tino Boehner was a real estate developer. Well, not just any real estate developer, but one of the biggest in the state of North Carolina. He was well known for redeveloping slum and low income areas often displacing well established neighborhood communities. Most of all of the areas were black, Hispanic or predominantly Asian neighborhoods.
Ebony was a community activist and a blogger that often broke more stories than the local news. Several of her stories had made the national news and shined an unwelcome light on Tino’s businesses. In her blog postings, she had labeled him as a land hungry brute than often rode ram shod over the little guys as he performed his own version of ethnic cleansing. His entrepreneurship, although revitalizing too many areas, increased the tax base, and created housing that many could no longer afford. Those moving into the newly developed communities no longer wanted the former residents to be a part of the bright new Meccas that Tino was creating.
Before another word could be said between them, a loud crash erupted down the street in the direction the Meth Head had driven her car. “No...no...no...this cannot be happening to me.” As Ebony b
ent to pick up the remains of her belongings, her heeled snapped into. Her head hung low and there was just no way her evening could get any worse.
Tino removed his jacket and placed about her shoulders, “Your dress is torn.”
Ebony began to turn like a dog chasing its tail trying to see the extent of the damage. “No...no...no...” she kept repeating when she realized the back end of her dress was missing and her butt was hanging out of the ripped hole.
“I’m not the complete brute you labeled me to be. Get in, let me give you a lift home,” he told her.
She could now feel the draft of the winds of change blowing up her keester. “I need to call the police...file a report...”
“Do you want to do all of that with your ass hanging out?” He asked her in a matter of fact tone.
“I guess not,” she said, almost sounding defeated.
Tino opened the passenger door for her and helped her inside. He could not help but notice her long, well defined legs, full lips, and large doe like eyes. His physical response to her was somewhat off putting to him as he closed her door and walked around to the driver side of the vehicle.
No words were uttered as he slipped into the driver seat of the low slung vehicle that probably cost more than she made in two years. The cologne he wore permeated everything in the car and wearing his jacket didn’t help much. This was the closest she had ever been to the man. And he was fine. The photos did not do him justice.
Something else that seemed to evade the halls of justice was her car. As they drove past the scene of the accident, it was truly her vehicle. It was now an ornament for the telegraph pole it was crookedly wrapped around. Tino pulled the car to the side and stepped out to check the driver. He was still alive. The police had begun to arrive and he held up his hand for Ebony to stay in the car. He spoke with the officers, handed both his card, pointed at her in the car. Whatever he told them, they were okay with it as he made his way back to the car.
He moved like a predator.
Ebony suddenly began to feel like his prey.
2. Staging the Room
It could never be said that Tino Boehner never met a woman he didn’t like. That was until he began to read some of the blog posts by Ebony Miller. The woman painted him as a greedy capitalist that would put a for sale sign on his mother’s love and move it to a better neighborhood. He wasn’t that kind of guy. It bothered him more than it should that this woman could form such a harsh opinion of him and had never met him. Further, it chapped his cheeks to think that so many jumped on her bandwagon and labeled him as a 21st Century robber baron taking so much from the poor to prop up the rich. Moreover, it concerned him that he cared about what she thought. Until now, she had been a dark voice in a back room on a computer spewing venom. Tonight she was vulnerable and needed his help. This would be a great chance to turn things around with her.
Her words were powerful and on the inside looking out, she had caused him some damage. Several investors had pulled out of his latest project while others were refusing to take his phone calls. This slip of a woman had hurt him with her words. Instead of him pouncing on her in a time of defenselessness, he instead would be her champion.
In every instance there is an opportunity. He was not going to miss this one. He drove her to her apartment building and punched in the access code she gave him to the gate as he drove around to the building she lived in. He was familiar with the builder of this apartment community and detested the man for using shoddy materials and throwing up the buildings with for hire workers, versus using skilled laborers. He would never do that. He used his skills to his advantage and he was good with people. He needed to be better with her.
Tino escorted her door. “Thank you, I can take it from here.” She told him as she reached for her door keys. My car. The man. “No...no....no...” she began to chant again, but her escort reached into his pocket, pulled out the door key, and let her into her apartment.
Surprise was all over her face. “You thought to get the keys...”
“How else were you going to get in?” He told her as he pushed open the door and followed her inside. Tino took in her surroundings. In his mind, Ms. Miller lived in a dark cave surrounded by flying monkeys that smeared his name on the cave walls of the dwelling with their poo. This, he had to admit was nicer than what he had thought.
The furniture was conservative. The walls were covered in art and paintings. The counter held a large bowl of fruit. Fresh flowers sat on her table and once she turned on a light, the apartment was warm and cozy. He watched her walk in the uneven shoes like a bad sketch from a comedy scene gone awry. She leaned over to remove the imbalance on her feet and instead lost her own. Tino moved quickly to catch her from hitting the floor.
In the strength of his arms, she felt the gravity of what had just occurred and began to shake uncontrollably. “It’s okay. You are safe now,” he told her as he rubbed the sides of her arms and her back. Ebony gathered his shirt in her hands, balling up the material as she clung to his body for additional support. Her head rested on his shoulder as she gave in to the comfort he provided. I was attacked by a crazed man.
Tino ushered her to the couch where she took a seat and he removed the broken shoe followed by the removal of the other. Careful not to allow his hands to linger on her perfectly shaped calves, he encouraged her to get cleaned up. “The police will be here soon to take your statement. Get a hot shower, and I will make you a cup of tea.”
Ebony was frowning at him, “how do you know I drink tea?”
He looked around the apartment. The art was rough, probably done by local artist. The fruit had no labels, which meant she probably got it at the farmer’s market. “Do gooders who love to save the planet always drink tea,” he told her as he lifted her to her feet with one tug of his hand.
“Careful, are you trying to dislocate my arm?”
“Sorry, I guess I don’t know my own strength,” he said as he gently pushed her towards the bathroom.
“Yeah, careful you brute...”
He watched her for a second without saying anything, allowing the silence between them to fill up the room. He spoke first, “Even when you are down, you have no kind words do you?”
“I have lots of kind words. I...this...this is just too weird having you here,” she said in a lowered tone.
“Imagine how I am feeling. I am waiting for someone to come out the bedroom carrying your third eye, cackling about cutting off my genitals and boiling them for your evening tea,” he told her. He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You really think of me like that?”
“Well, I know what you think of me...” he said as he moved towards the compact kitchen. “Maybe this is destiny telling us it is time for some changes or something. Now go change, shower...remove a layer of scales or whatever it is you do before the police arrive...”
Her eyebrows went up, “A layer of scales?”
Tino continued to piddle around the kitchen until he located the coffee mugs, muttering under his breath, “or milk your venom glands...”
“I heard that!” She said as she made her way to her bedroom. Instinctually, she locked the door to the bedroom and also the door to her bathroom as she started the shower.
Ebony stepped from her shower feeling almost human again, but she was definitely going to be sore from the two times she hit the sidewalk. In the back of her mind, she thought for a second that Tino Boehner had set it all up to make himself look like a hero and that he had come to save her. However, when she saw her crashed car and no media showed up, she dismissed the idea. Not even HE, could be that manipulative.
She dressed quickly when she heard voices in her living room and came out to find two police officers sitting at her kitchen table having coffee. Tino was sitting at the head of her table like it was something he did every day. It only got weirder as he went into the kitchen, pour her a cup of tea and placed in on the table. He did all of this while giving his accounting of what he had witnes
sed.
“She was giving him hell, but he got the keys and took off,” he told Officer McCarty, the bigger of the two cops.
The woman officer was eyeing him with more than a faint curiosity, “so, Ms. Miller is your girlfriend?”
Tino’s face contorted, “Oh hell no! Me and Broomhilda in there can barely stomach each other.”
Officer McFriendly got all swoony and Ebony wanted to hit the woman. “Broomhilda is just fine officers, thanks to Mr. Rogers over there out riding through the neighborhood looking for a spot of land to pillage.”
Tino squinted his eyes at her.
Ebony squinted back.
The officers took her statement, told her when she could pick up the police report and gave her the final bit of bad news. The female officer was a bit too giddy as she delivered the update, “Yeah, Ma’am. I’m sorry, your car is totaled.” Then to add insult to Ebony’s injured backside, she handed Tino her card. “If I can be of any help, feel free to call me anytime.”
She just wanted them all gone. He grabbed his jacket, but before leaving the apartment, he reached inside the hall closet to grab a broom. “In case you need to get around this weekend,” he told her as he walked out of the door.
Her voice was just above a whisper when she responded, “in two seconds you just undid all of your good karma. For a brief minute, you almost made me believe there was something redeeming in you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she closed the door in his face. It was Friday night, and she couldn’t get the report until Monday. She needed the report to go with the insurance claim. More importantly, how was she going to do all of that without a car?
3. Shut the Front Door
It was nasty. It was spiteful. The article was a malicious attack on his character and he wanted to go over there and kick Ebony Miller in the neck. The blog post was so insidious that his attorney called to ask if he wanted to sue. “How can I sue Jack? She never mentions my name in the article, but you know it is about me. I know it is about me.”
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