by Twyla Turner
By Twyla Turner
Copyright©2020 by Twyla Turner
Cover by Covers In Color
Photography by Regina Wamba
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.
To all those who aspire for more, in a world that says you don’t deserve it.
Bullshit! Go claim it. It’s yours!
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Twyla Turner
Connect with Author
“Hey, Gage.” The bar manager poked his head in the men’s room.
“Y-Yeah?” Gage looked up with bright pale silvery green eyes filled with trepidation.
“You’re up.”
“Al…Alright.” Gage squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flared, and clenched his teeth.
He shook out his trembling hands. Every time nerves filled him, his words stuck in his throat like when he was a kid. Which tended to catapult him back to the past and the worst years of his life…
“Alright, class. You each will take turns coming to the front of the class to read your poem about your summer.”
Gage sank down in his seat. If there was ever a time he wanted the superpower of invisibility it was now.
“Gage Walker?” Mrs. Simmons the 7th grade English teacher said looking down at the attendance sheet. “Since you’re new to our class, why don’t you go first.”
His family had just moved from Chicago to St. Louis. Starting over and revealing his impediment to a new set of kids was like the worst kind of hell. At least at his old school, he knew their brand of bullying. Gage didn’t know if these kids were the sticks and stones kind or the cruel words kind of bullies. But bullies, he knew, there would be. When you had an impairment like his, he’d learned bullies were everywhere. And it was like they waited for kids like him, so they could exercise their tormentor muscles.
Gage slowly and sullenly stood up. He shuffled listlessly to the front of the class. His shoelaces dragged the floor. He felt all their eyes on him with every step. Once he reached the front of the class, he turned but kept his head down. His poem trembled in his hand like a leaf. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth.
“M-m-m-m-m-my su-su-su-su-m-m-m-er Brrrrrrr-eak,” Gage stammered.
As suspected the giggles began. Gage chanced a glance up. Some kids were covering their mouths. A few kind souls looked at him with encouragement. And one kid that looked like his picture should be next to the definition of bully in the dictionary shoved his friend to get his attention and pointed up at Gage. Gage internally sighed and continued as best he could.
“W-we ra-ra-ran, we swa-a-a-a-am, so m-m-much f-f-food we cra-a-amed,” Gage struggled.
Now that the class realized that it was, in fact, a stutter and not just nerves, the laughter went from a couple of giggles to full-fledged howls of laughter. The class bully pointed at him and laughed until he was red in the face.
“He…he…” the kid said breathlessly between laughs, “…sounds like…Porky Pig! And looks like him too!”
The whole class lost it then. Even most of the kids who were trying to be nice couldn’t hold back their laughter at the joke.
“Porky! Porky! Porky!” The bully began the chant and his minions quickly followed. As if the bully wasn’t just as fat as Gage, if not fatter.
“Alright class, that’s enough!” Mrs. Simmons finally stepped in.
“Gage, don’t worry about finishing. You did great.” She said as she rested a hand on his shoulder.
Gage could no longer see. The teacher, the classroom, and the kids swirled and looked distorted behind the tears that filled his eyes.
“Look! He’s gonna cry. Poor little, Porky is gonna cry.” The bully mocked him.
“Doug, that’s enough! Go to the principal’s office now!” Mrs. Simmons pointed to the door and the hall beyond.
“Whatever,” Doug grumbled. “Sorry, Porky can’t take a joke.”
“If I’m Porky then you must be Wilbur. Takes a pig to know one,” Gage ground out.
The class gasped and then fell silent.
Doug walked towards Gage. He stood over him. Of course, the bully was the tallest and biggest kid in class. Gage had yet to hit a growth spurt yet. David versus Goliath.
Doug jerked forward like he was going to hit Gage, hoping he would flinch. Gage had years of experience with bullies. He didn’t even blink.
Doug swallowed nervously.
“It ain’t worth it.” Doug said before he stormed out the classroom.
Gage sagged with relief. After getting his butt kicked the first time, Gage had learned to fight and could beat down the biggest of bullies. But he still didn’t like fighting. He preferred to just be left alone. He flopped down at his desk and sunk as far down as one could possibly go without being under the desk.
The rest of the class read their poems and then the bell rang signaling the end of school. Gage hung back, not wanting to be out in the halls with the other kids for longer than necessary. Moderately monitored hallways were a bully’s paradise.
As he slowly collected his books a small, soft hand touched his. He looked up and a plump black girl stood next to his desk. She had a sweet face with chubby cheeks.
“I bet your poem was nice. Don’t let dummies like Doug get you down. He can’t even read past a 3rd grade level. So, he has no room to talk about anyone.”
Gage chuckled.
“It’s true! Just you wait until he has to read out loud. You’ll see. But if you make fun of him, he’ll beat you up.” She rolled her eyes.
“Th-Thanks,” Gage said.
“You’re welcome,” she shrugged. “I’m Kiesha.”
“Hi, Kiesha. I’m G-Gage.”
“I know,” she grinned. “See ya tomorrow, Gage.”
She walked to the door, stopped, and turned around.
“If you don’t have anyone to sit with at lunch, you can always sit with me and my friends.”
“C-Cool! Thanks.” Gage smiled happily.
“No problem.”
She walked out into the chaos of children preparing to leave.
Gage sighed and finally headed out into the hall.
~~~
The front door slammed shut as Gage ran inside. He’d just ran from a crowd of kids that resembled a dust cloud of limbs you see in cartoons. All led by Doug the Dickhead, he’d fondly nicknamed his new bully in his head.
“Gage is that you?” He heard his mother call out in her warm Brazilian accent.
He didn’t answer. Instead he ran up the sta
irs, into his room, and slammed the door. He walked over to his stereo and turned on the album ‘Pablo Honey’ by Radiohead. The soft melody at the beginning of his favorite song ‘Creep’ streamed through the speakers. Gage turned up the volume loud enough that he couldn’t hear himself think before laying across his bed.
As Thom Yorke began to softly sing, Gage sang along with him as he stared up at the ceiling. As the climax of the song hit, and the lead singer sang passionately, Gage matched him perfectly or even better. Music was the only time Gage could find the words. He could sing each syllable flawlessly. His mother often marveled at how beautifully her son sang. She was the only one who’d heard him. His dad was great, but Gage often felt like he disappointed him. And since his talent seemed to be singing instead of sports or cars, Gage figured it would be another thing to disappoint his dad.
“I don’t belong here.” Gage spoke the final words as a tear ran down from the corner of his eye to the hair at his temple. Those words couldn’t fit his life any better if he tried.
“Gage, querido.” He heard his mother’s soft voice followed by a knock before the next song started. “Open up.”
Gage released a harsh breath. He sat up, wiped the dampness from his eyes, and breathed in deeply to calm himself. He walked over to the stereo and turned it off before opening the door. His mother’s worried, caring face almost made him break down in tears.
He turned away from her and walked back over to his bed. She followed and sat down next to him.
“Rough day?”
Gage drew his shoulders up and let them drop dejectedly.
“Th-The usual.”
“What if I told you I have a surprise for you? Would that make you feel better?”
“I guess. It d-d-d-depends on what it is.”
His mother quickly hopped up and left the room. Moments later she walked in with something big behind her back. She pulled it around to her front and Gage’s eyes widened. It was a guitar case.
Gage leapt up and grasped it. He laid it gently on his bed and unhooked the latches. He flipped it open and inside was a pristine light wood grain acoustic guitar. He blinked rapidly, but with joy this time.
“And I’ve found someone that gives private guitar lessons. Apparently, he’s a pretty popular musician in St. Louis.” Adriana stroked her hand over Gage’s dark hair. Hair so much like hers. “This is your chance to find your voice. Through music.”
Gage turned and wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her chest. His shoulders shook. A wet stain spread across his mom’s t-shirt. Adriana didn’t mind. She just continued to stroke his back and hair until he settled down. He’d wanted a guitar and lessons for a few years now, so this meant the world to him.
Music was the only thing that made him feel normal. He had no idea that his singing ability made him far from normal.
“Th-th-th-thank y-y-you, m-mom.” Gage finally was able to get out as he wiped his face bashfully.
“You’re welcome, bebê.”
Gage reached for the guitar…
Gage picked up his guitar and walked out of the bathroom and onto the little stage in the crowded bar. It was a Saturday night. The place was packed. And the crowd was tough. They had no qualms about booing someone they thought sucked. He’d been there before as someone in the audience and dreamed of having the guts to go up and perform.
It wasn’t until he’d finally lost one-hundred-and-fifty pounds in the last two years that he felt he could get up in front of anyone other than his mother to sing. Now, he was fit with sinewy muscles. Six-foot-one and a lean two-hundred-and-ten pounds. Where his jaw was once round and soft, it was now square and chiseled. And while almost every woman in the audience stopped talking to watch him as he strode up to the mic, their eyes devouring him, Gage didn’t feel any different than the fat awkward kid he’d been for so many years.
He was twenty-nine, in the prime of his life. Instead of pursuing his dream, he hid behind his waiter job like it was a lifeline. He wasn’t getting any younger, so it was time to go for it. If he bombed, he’d go back to life as a server. If he succeeded… Well, he’d cross that bridge when he got there.
Gage raised his gray-green eyes to the audience. Through the lights, all he could see was several silhouettes, but no distinct faces. He preferred it that way. He pulled the guitar strap over his head to rest on his shoulder. The guitar had become an extension of him. In every spare moment, he was playing, singing, and writing. It felt like a comforting hug. It felt like home. Because of that his nerves calmed and his stomach settled.
The DJ in the corner ready to play dance music when the open mic was finished, announced each singer, as he did now for Gage.
“Now to the stage is a newcomer, Gage Walker. It’s not easy getting up here, so give him a big round of applause.” The DJ’s smooth voice encouraged.
The crowd was kind and clapped loudly. Several feminine voices shouted, “Woohoo!”
Gage didn’t dare speak, fearing he’d resort back to his younger days and start stuttering. Instead, he nodded his head and found the first chord.
He was going to sing two songs. The first would be a cover of Creep, since it held a special place in his heart. The second would be a song he wrote.
His fingers strummed the strings on the guitar. The notes floated out to the crowd and they fell silent. The melody finally registered to the majority of them and he heard their excited murmur. Gage leaned forward. His full lips only centimeters from the mic. His eyes closed. And he began to sing.
As his raspy fervent voice came across the speakers, a few people shouted out their pleasure. His voice stayed soft and subtle, like the song required, pulling the listener in to hear better. Then he reached the crescendo, and hit the note that sent chills down everyone’s spine. He cried out so passionately that it was almost like he was in pain. Cheers went out as the note extended, lowered, and went back up again on an epic run.
He spoke/sang the last words and finally fell silent.
Gage’s eyes flew open when the audience exploded with cheers. The crowd had changed from respectful but skeptical to awestruck fans within the space of a four-minute song. He smiled tentatively. He still had one more song to get through. And since it wasn’t a song anyone knew, he knew it would be a tough sell.
“Thank you,” he said evenly into the mic. “This next song is an original. It’s called ‘Rhythm & Curves.’”
Gage strummed the notes. This song was different. It was his style. It was rock, it was soul, with the choked chords of a Latin rhythm inspired by his mother’s homeland of Brazil. A song to sway your hips to, but edgy enough not to be considered Pop.
He sang about a woman. The way she walked. How she danced. How she fucked. It was sexy. It was intimate. It was what he’d dreamed of finding for himself.
Gage had only a few sexual encounters under his belt. His shyness and his weight had hindered his approach and his abilities in bed. And once he lost the weight and the women in his life started hitting on him, he turned each one of them down. No matter how horny he was. They’d virtually ignored him and used him as their therapist for their guy problems when he was fat. Now that he was fit, their flirtation turned him off. He was still the same person. Just a smaller version.
Gage focused back on the crowd. They were feeling the song and already were singing the chorus with him. The floor in front of the stage had quickly filled with several twenty-somethings who were dancing and eye-fucking him. He’d noticed enticing looks from a few women recently, but this was a new experience for him. The blatant looks of lust radiating from the women in front of him shook him to his core.
Is this what it’s like, he thought to himself as he finished up his song.
As the final note faded in his throat, the crowd went wild. They clapped and cheered. Gage felt high from the euphoria of performing. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. As he took a bow and walked off the stage, his mind was racing with other possible places to p
erform. He was ready to go again.
Gage didn’t have time to think about it for more than a few seconds though. The moment he stepped down from the stage, he was surrounded by a swarm of new fans.
“Oh my God! You were so amazing!” A pretty brunette exclaimed.
“And so damn sexy!” A redhead preened.
“Please, tell me you don’t have a girlfriend.” A blonde said as she stroked a hand down his arm.
“Thanks. That means a lot ladies,” Gage said politely. “And no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, perfect.” The blonde smirked. “So, your place or mine?”
“Uh…yours? I have a roommate,” Gage answered in wide-eyed shock.
“Let’s go.”
~~~
“Hey, Gage.” A voice said over him and a hand shook his shoulder. “Wake up! Wake up!”
“Huh?” Gage mumbled as he sat up and looked groggily at the woman he’d gone home with the night before.
Never in his life had he gone home with anyone after a night out. When she’d offered, there was no way that he was going to turn it down.
“You have to see this!” She said shoving her phone in front of his face. “Several videos of you performing last night have gone viral. It’s still in the a.m. and you’ve got about a million views on each video. Everyone wants to know who you are. And famous people in the industry too.”
“What?!” Gage blinked.
The fog of sleepiness finally cleared. Gage never felt more awake in his entire life. He grabbed the phone from her and stared at the video of himself. He began to scroll through the comments, and sure enough people were raving about his performance and how hot he was. A few celebrity names even popped up asking who he was.
Gage’s heart plummeted to his stomach, back up into his throat, and then settled back into his chest where it began to nearly burst through it. His hands started to shake and the phone slipped to the covers.
“Isn’t it crazy?! You’re gonna be famous.”
