The next morning, Amp was almost finished packing up his duffle bag. Paul came to his bedroom door.
“It’s the big day. You ready?” Paul asked.
“Yes,” Amp replied. He looked around the room. “When I first got here, I was afraid I was going to mess up again.” Amp had to admit that he’d been tempted several times to talk to Jesse and get put on. Now he was proud of himself for not going that route. Fast, easy money could have definitely led to slow, hard time. He looked at Paul. “I’m not anymore.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“What about you? You ever gonna get outta here and live a little bit?”
Paul thought for a second and shrugged. “Yeah.” He cracked a slight smile. “Why not?”
Amp nodded, glad to hear Paul wasn’t going to spend the rest of his days closed up in that halfway house with headphones on, listening to blues records. He chuckled inside at that thought.
“Thank you for everything,” Amp told Paul.
Amp zipped up his duffle bag and headed out of the room. Paul saw the shoebox with old pictures and newspaper clippings in it in the corner of the room.
“You forgot a box,” Paul said.
Amp stopped and looked back at the shoebox. “No, I didn’t. I’m not dragging that stuff around with me anymore. This is a new start. I’m going to make some new memories. Take some new pictures.” He turned to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”
Amp walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door, where Dime was waiting for him in the driveway. Amp put his bags in the trunk of Dime’s car and slammed it closed, then walked over to Dime, who was leaning against the car with a smile on her face. Amp grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Reaching up to hold her face, Amp looked deep into her eyes. Their lips were almost touching. They had both wanted this for way too long.
Then, it happened. Amp pressed his lips softly against hers. She exhaled as he breathed in her kiss. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever had, the best thing he had ever tasted, and for just a second, the earth stopped spinning.
Amp slowly pulled away, remembering that they were in front of the halfway house and knowing that there would be thousands of those to come.
Slightly dazed, Dime shook it off and they got in the car.
“All set?” Dime asked as she shifted the gear into reverse.
Amp nodded, still staring at the bedroom window. “Yep.”
Dime backed out of the driveway and drove away.
Just like when he left the prison, Amp was tempted to look back. Maybe a quick peek in the rearview mirror, he thought but then decided against it. He remembered something that old convict Martell had told him in prison:
“You ever wonder why the rearview mirror in a car is so much smaller than the front windshield?” Martell had asked Amp.
“No, I never thought about it.”
“It’s because the things behind you, the things you’ve already made it through, are nowhere near as important as the things that lay ahead. Stop looking back and live, young blood.”
Those had been some of the realest words Amp had ever heard. Martell was right. It was time to let the past go and start building a new future. Who knows, Amp thought while looking at Dime out of the corner of his eye. She may be a part of that future.
“Thanks again,” Amp said to Dime.
“Don’t thank me. You’re gonna work this off.”
Amp turned to her, looking confused. “What?”
“Yep. Gas money, a lap dance . . . something.”
“Okay. You better stop and get some money. I don’t work for singles. I have standards.”
Dime smiled. “Okay, Mr. Standards. And I meant to ask, how you gonna call yourself Black Magic and you’re beige?”
Amp looked down at his arms. They both burst out laughing as she drove Amp down the street toward the start of his new life.
The End . . . or the Beginning?
Author’s Note
I was born in Detroit, Michigan and grew up right up the expressway, in Flint. I was in and out of foster care homes and group homes from ages four to eighteen. It was during those years that a love for writing was born.
It started initially with songs and poetry. Not wanting to be teased about these writings, I kept quiet about them for the first few years. Around the time I hit college, I had amassed dozens of stories, songs, and poems, and now I wasn’t afraid to share them with the world.
In 2005, I wrote my first complete screenplay. It was called The Timberland Diary. I ended up having to change the name, so the film was called Note to Self. After many rejections, I found Tri Destined Studios, and they gave me a yes. We teamed up with two other studios to make the film. It turned out amazing. I have written ten more films and various TV shows since then.
I thank you for supporting my endeavor by purchasing and reading Ladies Night. It is the first novel I have ever written, but there will be more. Many more . . .
Oh, and get ready for the Ladies Night movie coming soon!
Urban Books, LLC
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Ladies Night Copyright © 2014 Christian Keyes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2703-2
ISBN 10: 1-62286-357-7
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, 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, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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