WHEN ITS TOO LATE- Here Is a sample of myfirst chapter let me know what you think

[sharon rearden]

WHEN IT TOO LATE:
BY: SHARON REARDEN

CHAPTER ONE:
The Accident

“Why wasn’t I paying attention?” she said to herself.
Along were just some of the thoughts that ran through her mind as she stared out the big picture window watching the leaves as the wind blew threw through the trees.
These were the thoughts that ran through LaToyia’s mind when she finally recuperated from all the shit she had went through after finding out about his extramarital affair.
LaToyia, small framed, very petite with the look any man would kill for just to have him as his very own. Her hair just fitting to the shape of her face, slightly covering her eyes. Shoulders length black with reddish brown streaks in it. Her body looked like that of a twenty-five year old or just maybe a few years older. Piercing eyes of that of a Hawk that could see through the soul of any man or woman. Being fearless in all she does.





It wasn’t until after James died when LaToyia had realized and come to believe that the man she married was not in love with her the way that she had loved him.
Feeling betrayed was one thing to have to deal with, but to be betrayed and cheated on was something totally different. And the love he had shown her, he showed in a very strange way.
James, Dark, tall and handsome with a smile that caught a woman’s eye is one the thing that attracted her to him the moment they met, his athletic body.
Being married just three years, having had gone though the things she had went through, it’s a wonder that she stayed. she thought she had shown that she loved him although she couldn’t bare the way he was at times, demanding, wanting to control everything even when he’d be in another state, calling home telling her what to do over the phone, doing things his way no matter what anyone else thought or how they‘d feel.
Some would wonder why she stayed as long as she did. But now it was too late, to even tell him is what she thought as she sat staring out the window.
“Do you think I’ll ever get through any of this?” she asked her sister.
“I think you are going to do just fine, you’re a strong woman.” she said.
“Remember when he’d come home after being gone for a month or two, he‘d make it his point to walk around the house checking out rooms, closets, even windows, “Just think of the shit you had to put up with.” her sister replied.
Remembering her children, being afraid of him, not knowing how he’d act once he’d come home. Sometimes he screamed at them for having toys on the floor or if their rooms were messed up.
“You would think he has some sort of mental problem or something.”
LaToyia said.
And the thought of him being with another woman had never even crossed her mind.
“I wonder what he was thinking during the time he was seeing her?’ she had asked.
Still thinking of him being gone, LaToyia cried even more every time she thought of him having an affair. Or just being with another woman other than herself.
Although she had her sister Jen and her husband and of course her brother Bobby, Who never went home. But it just would never be the same to have James.
James had always thought that he was better than everyone else, but only by the material things he had bought and come to accomplish in his life which of course he did deserve. But there were some who just could not stand the sight of him at times.

Being that he was LaToyia’s husband, he was welcomed into the family by some, but not by all, especially when it came to LaToyia’s oldest brother Bobby, the one who hated him with a passion, he liked it better when his sister was with Carl., he had always wanted her to one day marry. But things didn’t exactly happen that way. He and Carl got along better, and had more in common.
And until this very day, no one knows why she broke up with Carl, why she one day just up and moved away without saying a word to anyone.
He had often told Bobby during many of their conversations over the phone, after she had married James
“The minute James did anything wrong he would kill him”. Carl had told Bobby.
LaToyia thought what Carl had said and thought it would one day come true. He did tell her on the day she was leaving he would have her back as his own.
James was a very insecure man who sometimes suspected LaToyia of cheating, he had always known of Carl and the relationship she had with him.
And in the very back of his mind he did feel like he had to compete with Carl although Carl was no where in her life and miles away, it’s not like he was able to just pop up at any time. There were times when she really wanted to cheat but never did. Although, the only man she would’ve cheated with was Carl.
And that would’ve been just to get back at James for anything wrong he might have done to her.




He would let him think what ever he wanted too; being that he was always away she understood why he thought those things of her so she would always let him think those things.
“As long as God knows that she being faithful to her husband,
The hell with what he thought”. She thought to herself.
He had thoughts of leaving him several times, whenever he would get on that page of her fooling around on him, but then she would think of what her mother once told her,
“That the one, who accuses the other, is the one who is doing the cheating.”
Although she never wanted to believe it, she knew just how careful James was, especially being in his truck and the fear of someone coming along and robbing him.
He knew that those women that ran around in those truck stops were good for setting up drivers up for being robbed. He always knew that there would be a man lurking around somewhere behind a truck somewhere.
With him being gone all the time, she never had any real proof. She had remembered the times when James had told her about the one woman he had in his past and how they had taken his money and dogged him out leaving him for dead. He swore he would never let another woman get that close ever again.
She sat back on the couch numbed not knowing what to say anyone as they walked through the house with saddened faces. Offering her their help, LaToyia would smile and say
“Thank You”.

James had just gotten killed, something she just couldn’t believe that her husband wasn‘t coming back home ever.
His mother Catherine was coming in from Texas just as soon as she could get to
Airport and get a flight. This is what she had told LaToyia after being told the new about James.
LaToyia couldn’t pull herself together enough to tell his daughter Patrice afraid of how she would react to this devastating news. She decided to let her sister Jen tell her about her father’s death, while LaToyia sat right next to her.
“Patrice, it’s about your father.” Jen said with downcast eyes.
“What is it? Is he alright? She asked nervously.
“No, there’s been an accident and he was killed.”
James’ daughter was the makings from a relationship he had many years ago. It turned out to be just a one night stand, she being the product of them both, giving them the opportunity to having a longtime daughter father relationship infact, Patrice had become closer to her father since she had lost her mother from drug addiction.
“Where is he? Can I see him?” She asked.
Neither LaToyia nor her sister would know exactly know how Patrice knew take the news of her father‘s death. Both were afraid she would lose it mentally due their closeness.
“As soon as you can, I’ll take you to see him.”
Finding it hard to get the thought out of her mind, remembering that knock on the front door.
Sitting and enjoying an evening movie; she could see shadows near the front door.
She walked over to the front door, opening it quickly to find two men dressed in suits standing there on the front porch.
It was two police detectives dressed in nice suites looking as if they were standing at attention waiting for their drill sergeant to tell them it was time for them to relax.
“May I help you?” She asked.
With her arms folded across her chest.
“Are you the wife of the James Johnson?”
The taller man asked, who was dressed in a real nice suit, he almost looked as though he was too good looking to be a cop.
“I’m Detective Burrows and this is my partner Detective Pete”.
“Yes Why? Is everything alright?” she asked, “where is James?”
Standing there with her arms folded across her chest, looking out past the detectives expecting to see James pulling up behind them.
“Is everything alright?
Just hoping it wouldn’t be any bad news.
“Mrs. Johnson, Does your husband driver for S &W Trucking Company?”
“Yes” she answered.
“We are afraid to inform you that your husband has been in an accident early this morning”,
the taller detective had said, “We‘re also sorry to tell you that he didn’t make it, he‘s been killed.”
LaToyia immediately fell to her knees on the ground screaming.
“Oh no!, my Husband” she screamed.
The two detectives both looked at each other with sadness in both their eyes.
“What happened?” she asked. “Can we sit and talk somewhere,” Detective Burrows had asked.
They both took her by her arms and leading her through the front door, sitting her down on the couch, she kept wiping the tears from her face, and she looked across the coffee table at both men waiting for one of them to speak.

“Well, we have received a call early this morning saying that there were gun shots that were fired at you Husbands truck, then an explosion.”, he had explained.
“His truck overturned and caught fire bursting into flames almost immediately.” he was silent for a moment.
“We are investigating this matter as a Homicide as this time.”
“What do you mean as a homicide? Are you telling me my husband was killed?”
LaToyia, being in state of dismay, didn’t want to believe any of this, but after sitting quietly, she blurted out.
“There was an explosion? That meant he was burned right?”
“Yes ma’am, we’re afraid to tell you but, he was badly burned,
We will need you to identify the body, down at the city morgue.”
“I really don’t know if I’m up to that, are you sure it’s him?”
“Yes we have confirmation through his company.”
The looks on their faces let LaToyia know that it was no accident that this has happened. “An Explosion!” she exclaimed. “What the hell happened? What! Who, Where?” she asked
“Did someone do this?, are you looking for the person?
Has anyone seen who did this?”
“We aren’t too sure right now.” Detective burrows had answered.
“What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“There are many questions we have and barely any answers, we are hoping you might help.”
“Did your husband have any enemies that might want to hurt him?”
“No”. She answered.
“My husband had many friends”. “I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt James, He was a good man, no enemies at all“.
“I can’t believe that this is happening.” she said while crying.
“We will, and that’s what we are doing”.
“When did you last see your husband?”
“It’s been a week, but we talk all the time, he calls all the time to check on me and the kids”.
“I’ve been calling his cell phone all day, but I thought he was maybe asleep, I know when he doesn’t answer is because he’s asleep”.
“So you haven’t spoken to him all day?” He had asked while staring her straight in her eyes, as if waiting to find a lie somewhere.
“Is that what you’re telling us Mrs. Johnson?”
Detective Burrows had asked suspiciously
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying, I know my husbands routine”.
“Whenever he is asleep he doesn’t answer his phone”.
“I last spoke to him last night. It was early, we didn’t talk long, he had told me he was tired and needed some sleep.” He told me that today he would be in Texas to do his delivery, said he would give me a call then, I’ve been calling him all day and have not gotten an answer”.
She looked at them both with tears in her eyes.

[Kim Wilson]

I must be honest; I'm not fond of this. With some polishing it could be interest. Here's a short story. Watch how I use my tenses.

ALLURING TEMPTATIONS
Mereda has always been the physical object of the neighborhood boy’s sexual desires and the fantasy of the dirty old men, in her close-knit neighborhood, having over-developed into a stunning beauty as a teen. The affirmation of proper morals and sacred legends were of top-value in the small town of Edenton, North Carolina. Prep school, college and university education all play a part in her emotional, sexual, physical development. Raised in an upper-middle class family of jewelry makers; great grandfather, grandmother, mother, 4 uncles, 2 aunts and all 4 older brothers. Mereda has always been surrounded by beautiful, educated, eccentric, class A potentials. She humbly promises loyal friendships and uninhibited’ness for all.
Enter; Three adults from completely different up-bringings in one relationship, what would be the outcome, living in Atlanta.
 
Mereda places her poster on its stand out front of the public library ‘The Lighthouse People’ 6:30pm tonight. She returns to her swivel chair behind the high counter to continue scanning books.
The flaming sun is making life dizzy in Atlanta; not even the air-conditioned Marta rail, which Jonathan chose as a method to meet women, was a comfort. Jonathan steps into the air-conditioned coolness of the downtown’s main library located one block off Peachtree street, to return his nearly over-due books; crimes of the heart, sexual crimes and the like, after leaving his half eaten bagel on the table at the Dunkin Donuts next door.
“Here you are, he breathes. It is gosh darn hot!”
“I can believe that, I smile, handing him a Kleenex to wipe his beads of sweat. On your way to work?” I find myself asking. The attraction is instant.
“Not today. I’m finishing up a report for a college course” he lies. When what he’s actually doing is creating a criminal defense for himself.
“What’s the subject” why the books weren’t warning her.
 Jonathan’s sexual appetite has become too much for a normal relationship. His vivid fantasies of sexually gorging on women with foreign features, had to become reality, and Mereda would be forced to fit the bill.
  “Sex. What constitutes a criminal act and how some people distort it” he leans in towards her to finish in the whisper of a snake charmer.
Sonya coughs an interruption, “If you need some physical visuals…”
“I sure will, slowly spinning around to face Sonya with a smile that quickly fades to a frown at her studliness.
Let me go find some” he responds arrogantly, then steps away leaving her feeling blank as a new page. He steps to the information computers, taps in his request. As his printout ends, he heads to the third floor.
 
Government Profiler and FBI Agent Dennis Merriweather was right behind Jonathan; about to close the ‘Captured” folder on his deviant sexually criminal ass. Agent Merriweather removes the profile sheet, holding it side by side to the most recent photo of Jonathan Wayne Bryers. Every single detail being accurate. Single, African American, 6’2, 28-35, avid reader of gothic novels and the sexually, criminally insane. Noted history of holding women against their will stopping short of kidnapping; relocating after each crime. Possibly works as an accountant/numbers man. Meets single, passive, gullible women. Agent Merriweather contacts Samuel Roberson, the aggressive homicide detective that’s assigned to the case, working 25 hour days, for re-clarification of his prior findings.
Over the phone Detective Roberson spills, “He’d keep his victims full of Xanax and Valium, making them add and subtract math equations, he says. Get this, they stayed alive as long as they got the answers right. When the answer was wrong he slit their throat; not deep enough to kill them just deep enough for them to slowly bleed to death. This MF is crazy” he expresses to Merriweather.
“How’d you know this?”
“We had a survivor.”
“She still around?”
“Nope. Died in a plane crash last year relocating, how ironic. He’d discard the bodies with numbers written in crimson and some blueberry colored lipstick all over them.”
Through the phone they could feel one another shaking their heads.
“What was his type? How’d he get next to them?”
“I’m faxing you all my information over right now.” Merriweather provides Roberson with his fax number.
 
Sonya enters the library after spending most of late last night and part of the morning in Cape Cod legalizing her separation from Alison Jefferson. A wealthy Chinese and black money manager who taught her how to be violent and selfish.
Mereda, busy with her cart, locates the whereabouts of books to keep her mind off her personal issues.
 
“Excuse me, where can I find the 730s” a female voice breaks in.
“Back two rows on your right” Mereda says without missing a thought.
“Thank you.”
Jonathan meanders quietly through the quiet, humming to himself, looking for the numbers the computer printed, “Here we go,” he announces in a whisper.
 
Mereda, back at her desk, helping patrons, notices Jonathan about the fourth person back flipping through a book. As he approaches, she fumbles at a job she knows so well, cute-guy struck, almost hapless to keep her composure. He pauses, head down with his eyes scanning a page. To her he was beautiful. Just the perfect look-up-to height, with hold-on’able shoulders and a firm tissue-soft ass, that could potentially rock her world.
“May I help you” I offer in my most delicate tone.
“I’m looking for you, I mean your, he smiles, sex, sexual turn-ons and such” as their eyes just miss becoming locked.
Softly she responds, “600, she points, 1st thru 4th shelves.”
“Remarkable.”
“What” I blush.
“That you can just know that like that. How long have you been a librarian? You can’t be more than 20.”
“I wouldn’t be much help if I couldn’t serve you, blushing, not knowing the potential repercussions of her words. I mean help everybody that needs me. It wouldn’t be to your benefit if I didn’t know. And for 3 years. 27” I smile, with her remarkable green eyes and perfectly arched eyebrows.

Mereda stands 5’10 without her inch high heels. Her waist length cornrows fit perfectly with her long neck, high cheekbones and slightly broad nose, all frosted over in a light brown cream. Her two hour-a-day workouts are paying off, big time.
“Ma’am, an escalated and irate voice interrupts. There’s a man over by the window, reeking of sour wine and a combination of other god-awful scents. Jonathan steps away. He’s rambling about being a Vietnam veteran they tied dynamite to or something. PLEASE do something!”
“Yes ma’am” she agrees reluctant to leave Jonathan’s fading presence.
Mereda clears the window situation and relocates Jonathan.
“You alright back here by yourself?”
Gesturing her forward, “615.39 Walker.”
With her keen pointing finger “607...mmm, 615…, 615.3. .39 Walker, pulls it out, here you go.”
“Are you going to tell me your name?”
“Mereda.”
 
Time slides away. Jonathan steps into the bright sun’s shine of Atlanta’s downtown. Immediately his cooled body temperature evaporates. Mereda and Sonya end up in the break room at the same time. Sonya is fuming, barely able to mask it with a fake smile.
“I saw you and that man flirting around. He’s real cute” she acknowledges, with an apparently jealous attitude.
“What are you talking about? I was doing what a librarian does, help find books.”
“Look like you two were up to more than that.”
“Here, you’re my supervisor, not my guardian. You better remember that while you trying to mess with me about whom I speak with and for what reason; let’s not go there” I demand.
“Whatever. Are we still having a late dinner or what?”
“Yes. After my session at 6:30, I’ll be right home. You need anything while I’m out?”
“No. Just hurry!”
 
Mereda is showing the beautiful displays of several of her favorite lighthouses. Angel’s Gate and Pigeon Point in California; Rock of Ages Light and Chicago Harbor in the West Great Lakes. Sand Keys and Carysford Reef in the South Atlantic, as the dedicated crowd gathers and take cross-legged sit-downs on the carpet.
“Everyone, snapping her thin fingers for attention. Everyone please. I’m ready to begin. As you all know I’m from the small town of Edenton, North Carolina, which is famous for its lighthouses. The lighthouse people, Bob and Sandra Shanklin of Fort Walton Beach, would go to great lengths to capture a single photo of the uniqueness of each lighthouse. They’d trudge down trails with high winds blowing, slog through sand carrying camera bags in hundred degree temperatures with bugs biting their legs. They’d wade through knee-deep trails flooded with the water from the Hudson River. They’d use crabber’s boats, lobsterman’s boats, twin-engine planes, single engine planes, seaplanes; just about any mode of transport they could get. They’d climb over boulders, hang from tree branches over cliffs and roll in mud puddles under fences; again, all to photograph a lighthouse. They both believe that the Portland Head Maine lighthouse was one to fall in love with.
Bob contends that ‘lighthouses are a virus with no known cure.’ The Shanklins call themselves the lighthouse people having photographed around 200 lighthouses. Thank you.”
 
The group applauds. The guest mingle, observe and converse about the historical information Mereda has shared. The presentation concludes.
 
Mereda arrives at the beautiful condominium she shares with Sonya who is relaxing in the kitchen sipping Beringer’s White Zinfandel from a crystal flute. She takes a quick shower and throws on a two-piece DKNY lounge set to join Sonya in washed-out Kani jeans and muscle shirt.
A dinner of creative conversation, assorted pastas and jumbo shrimps covered in creamy wine sauce, is going well, when Mereda’s cell phone chimes.
“Who the hell can that be? Sonya blast with a shrimp tail hanging from between her pearl white teeth.
“Don’t know. Be right back, I say softly. She steps into the hallway, “Hello, who it this?”
“Me.”
“Me who?”
“Me, Jonathan.”
“Jonathan?”
“From the library.”
She catches her breathe, “Okay, now I remember, I smile. With her back facing the kitchen, she doesn’t see Sonya peering in on her. This is not a good time to talk because I’m eating dinner. If you can stop by tomorrow, it’ll be better.”
“Be looking out the window for your future. It’ll be around six’ish.”
“What are you doing? That was the guy from earlier. I bet he could feel you grinning through the damn phone. The last time almost didn’t turn out so good. Sonya stomps back into the kitchen. Reda we promised that we’d not go through this damn drama again. We made it through the mess with Alison. I legally separated from my wife a great deal having to do with your ass.”
“What are you talking about” pressing passed her, feeling knots in her stomach beginning to form. Sonya stands right at her heels.
“Mereda, what one of us goes through the other is sure to follow. We made certain vows when we decided life would be better lived if we live it on our own terms. I love you so much, so very much.”
“I don’t want to discuss this right now please. I’m hungry and, in the mood” trying to hurry off the subject.
Sonya verbally tears into Mereda with hammering words and loaded assaults. She grabs a salad fork.
“Not tonight with this mess” I beg.
“You think I’m still something to play with, make me hurt you bitch!”
Mereda mentally struggle for her sanity.
“DAMN YOU Sonya!” I scream.
Mereda storms from the airy Aqua-blue kitchen, as Sonya throws the fork at the wall, and into the elegance of her beautifully designed bedroom, slamming herself into the beige, black and white ultra-plush comforter. Moments later Sonya steps quietly into the arched doorway.
“I’m sorry Reda.”
Mereda flips over to look directly into Sonya’s tear-stained face.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. You need to get a grip. This is why I think about getting away from you. You want to control everything and, it’s been me for such a long time. I’m a damn victory in a battle going on in your freakin’ mind. I don’t like WAR” I scream.
“I’m sorry, Sonya lies again for the umpteenth time. I realize I’m difficult at time where you’re concerned, but I can’t breathe without you. Your mere presence ignites me girl. Our lives mirror each other, she fed. I will not endure losing you” she warns.
“You act as if a conversation or contact with anyone other than you is a damn sin. This is the kinda stuff movies are based on you selfish bitch” smiling to annoy Sonya’s unprotected feelings.
Sonya sits at the foot of the bed as Mereda pulls into a cross-legged sitting position.
“You can’t jump around…” beginning the emotional attack.
“Jump around. What the hell is that suppose to mean! You know what forget it; FORGET EVERYTHING. I’M MOVING.”
 
A fresh crisp morning sun shines through mauve curtains. Sonya slowly stimulates Mereda awake with a gentle massage beginning at her feet, calves, inside and outside of her edible thighs. A few minutes on her plump rump, the small of her back. Several minutes on her back, up to and between her shoulders.
“Good morning heartache, Sonya bellows gently. I hope you understand how much, I need you lady, I want to be your every wo-man, wooo, wooo,” she howls softly into Mereda’s ear.
A mile wide smile was something Mereda just couldn’t hide. She slowly rises from under the comforter in all her naked glory, and forgive without saying a word.
“I’m going to go start breakfast. I’ll meet you in the kitchen” Mereda says quickly exiting the bedroom.
“I’m still going to be watching you Reda girl, Sonya warns to Mereda’s back. I mean it, I love you and I’m not giving you up so easily especially to A MAN!” she screams.
With Sonya in the bathroom, Mereda sulks quietly over a bowl of whisked egg whites. She adds 2% cream and whisk some more. She could smell the frying pan heating up but couldn’t move until she’d emotionally walked all the way through her nightmare, knowing that the decision she is about to make could jeopardize her health and or her life. She knows Sonya can be revengeful. Could she relocate, without Sonya finding her? Was she willing to begin again, again? Was she willing to let Sonya predict the outcome of her circumstances? All she could think about was what she trapped herself into and how she’s become a victim of an alluring temptation. She reminisces about how she and Sonya met in the lobby of the AALU meeting, 3 years and 4 months ago. Though she didn’t know where the emotion came from, she felt Sonya was hot!
“Come an’ eat” I holler.
“I’ll be right there” Sonya hollers back.
They sit to a nice peaceful vanilla candle scented breakfast which includes white wine, deep-fried Salmon patties and soft scrambled egg whites. Sonya and Mereda always kept it roy’al. They always forgave one another for the night before, in hopes that the morning after would be better. Sonya dresses in a silk double-breasted Cerulean pantsuit then exits the condo. She situates her Hanes Her Way into the soft leather of her dark blue Navigator, then flips open her cell phone.
“I hope you forgive me” she says to Mereda who is adorned in soft pastel shades.
“I really have” I try to reassure her as I round Peachtree Street in my silver Lancer LE, trying to hold the cell phone and my cappuccino.
“You don’t sound real sure whether or not you do.”
“You owe me a lot of making up this time for all the stuff you said. Now this time you actually laid hands on me so that right there might break your ass, I tell. I want a single pink rose on my desk every morning when I get to work and one on the front door when I get home. Sonya picks up a second cell and immediately makes the necessary arrangements. I want to go to St. Croix.”
“Done.”
“And a two-story house with a big ass yard. I’m tired of living in that condo. Something where I can have all the animals I want, make as much noise as I need to and be as naked as I can be, I giggle. Let’s see, a town, a country.”
“Hold up, is that it?”
“Maybe the whole freakin’ world. A trust-fund baby can handle that can’t she.”
“No problem” Sonya answers, then disconnects.
They always enter the parking garage at the same time though they always take different routes to work. Mereda exits her Lancer LE and saunters over to Sonya who is double-clicking the alarm.
“Mereda I need to know something” picking invisible lint from Mereda’s shoulders.
“What?”
“Is this guy you’re meeting today the one you met here yesterday. They stop walking. Is he a threat to me? The truth.”
“You can’t handle the truth” I mock, imitating Jack Nicholson, trying to be funny.
“Try me” not altering the stern ready-to-fight expression, she’s worn since breakfast, one bit.
“Yes.”
“That’s what I thought,” Sonya responds, putting pep in her step.

Mereda places her poster out front for two lunch time presentations: TELLS FROM THE COAST 1:30/3:30pm today. She walks into the glass office and situates her day’s agenda. She walks through the library being of assistance and re-shelving books until 11:40. For lunch, she, Dahlia, Carlos and Starr eat in the Federal Building’s cafeteria where Starr’s father Federal Judge Winston Daniels always picks up the check.
 
At one o’clock Mereda begins to set up her displays; a chimney with a sign that read: The Hermit of Essex Coast along with a photo of McEvers Bayard Brown, The Maco Light with a photo of Joe Baldwin with and without his head and an assortment of ghastly historical photos; the Wilmington Murder 1760 including photos of Llewellyn Markwick and a replica of his infamous ring. By 1:30 there are over 30 plus in attendance, so she begins.
 
“Your attention people. Not everyone who inhabits Jekyll lives in a state of perpetual happiness. This chimney, pointing to the display, is all that remains of the cottage of Bayard Brown, original member of the Jekyll Island Club. He built the cottage of Jekyll, overlooking the marshes; erecting a bridge to reach the isolated residence. He built a stable for his horses and furnished the cottage elegantly for his bride-to-be, which never came about. The eccentric millionaire was known as ‘the Hermit of the Essex Coast’ in England. At 37 he exiled from America on his yacht Valfreyia; unreciprocated love was said to be the cause of his renouncing his native land for 36 years. His yacht engines were always in readiness for a sea voyage. His crew of 18 waited in vain for the order to be put to sea. Mr. Brown’s fortune includes an income of over a million dollars a year. He was generous. He frequently tossed gold souvenirs from his yacht for anyone to pick up. Anyone who mentioned ‘America’ in his presence was dismissed. He died in 1926 requesting that his body be returned to America on the Valfreyia. All that remains of the memory of McEvers Bayard Brown, New York Banker, is a chimney, decaying and falling apart.” The applause was a gentle roar as not to disturb the rest of the library patrons. “The Maco Light. One rainy night in the Spring of 1867, the conductor, Joe Baldwin, was tidying up the rear coach as it was approaching the homestretch into Wilmington. Holding his lantern in front of his body, he prepares to step forward into the next car, pulls open the heavy door and begins to swing his lantern back and forth, back and forth, Mereda says in an eerie voice, as the huge fiery eye of the approaching train grew larger and larger, closer and closer. The thick fog and dark night thwarted his signaling attempts and with a terrific impact the two trains slam into one another, slapping her hands together, startling the audience. In the collision the conductor’s head was ripped from his body. Ooohs and aahs are covered with trembling hands. Over the years on dark rainy nights a strange lantern light can be seen swinging from side to side along the tracks; it’s Joe Baldwin haunting the tracks looking for his severed head. The end. Here’s one more. A Wilmington Murder 1760. In the year 1760 a young, personable gentleman, Llewellyn Markwick came to settle in a seaport city along North Carolina’s coast. Markwick always claimed to have relatives among the titled families of the old country. He wore a unique ring, which was in the shape of a snake’s body with a large diamond clasped between its jaws, which he told all who listened was a duplicate of his family crest. A great lover of horses, young Markwick rode off one afternoon never to return. No clues were ever found to his disappearance for eight years. In the summer of 1768 a great rainstorm brought a 24-hour deluge of water flooding the streets. One of Markwick’s friends noticed a brightly shining object alongside the street still attached to a bony hand which was still attached to a skeleton which turned out to be Markwick who was murdered with a bullet embedded in his skull. No one was ever charged with Markwick’s murder. An indentation where the skeleton was found always remained in spite of the efforts to fill it up to street level until a hard surface pavement improved it. The end. Everyone feel free to view the displays and thank you for your interest and time. I have to get back to my library duties.”
I smile, stand and shake a few hands. Jonathan arrives at six o’clock as scheduled and Sonya greets him at the entrance.
“How are you this fine day” she fakes concern.
“Fine” he dismisses trying to step around her.
“Looking for Mereda?”
“Sure” still trying to get passed her.
“Come let me talk to you for a moment, before you meet Mereda. Sonya guides Jonathan gently by his shoulder to an isolated area and they sit. Your name?”
“Jonathan” he whispers, leaning forward with his elbows resting firmly on his knee.
“Jonathan, there’s something I have to tell you and I think it be best if I tell you right now. I have a vested interest in Mereda. She’s a very dear friend to me and I do not want to see her emotions hurt. The last person, excuse me, gentleman she was with really broke her heart.
Stopping his attempted interjection with a well manicured five fingers, I’m not saying you two are getting involved but just think about keeping it platonic. That’s what she really needs right now. Mereda glances up to see them talking. Well that’s all I have to say, for now. There’s your girl” as if giving away a trophy at a Spelling Bee. Mereda noticeably weary, simply smiles.

Mereda and Jonathan stroll the well-kept rows talking about life full of common interest.
“Have you ever been to St. Tropez?”
“No, but I’ve heard it is geographically one of the most breathtaking locations to behold. The colorful books don’t do justice. Hopefully I’ll get there one day. I’d like to buy a bikini from one of the ocean front shops and splash around in the warm water.”
“You talk like you don’t expect it to be possible.”
“I don’t really think about it” I shrug off.
“Well we’re going to have to change that.”
Sonya walks up faking a library question, “Remember my advice Jonathan, she winks. Mereda are the jackets for the DVDs in alpha order” walking away before I can answer.
“What. What was all that about, I blush. I was meaning to ask about that conversation you two were having earlier.”
“It was nothing, just some info she thought’d be useful. I won’t hold it against you” he charms.
 
Merriweather decides that Jonathan falls under the category of ‘Gentleman rapist slash murder’ because though his crimes are forced he actually believes that Jonathan actually believes the sex is somehow actually consensual. His profile of Jonathan Wayne Bryers also includes him being narcissistic; believing he is superior to society in general and law enforcement in particular. He believes he can’t get caught so he engages in greater risk taking. Oklahoma city and Arkansas; hides two bodies in an alley’s dumpster. New Jersey and Philadelphia; leaves the three bodies in the apartments of the victims. California and Texas; bodies are found in public parks. His survivor; Atlanta, Georgia, left sitting in her car in a dinner club parking lot. Merriweather knows that his next victim will not be so lucky; or will she.
 
3 months after consummating a warranted relationship, Jonathan and Mereda cavort St. Tropez’s sandy brown beach in the midnight hour.
“Aahhhh, this is truly magnificent” I exhale.
“Mereda you deserve the very best after what you went through for us to be here together at this time. I am intent on giving it to you. One day I’ll tell you all about this man whose heart you’ve captured; about my life, what I’m involved with. He could tell from the way she made love to him that she was inexperienced, emotionally. His control would come by gradually introducing her to sexual acts beyond her understanding. This one might be worth keeping, alive. Knowing she longs to please him she’d simply comply. Jonathan figures to take her little by little, deeper and deeper, as often as he could until finally she’d do any and every thing he wanted; even concealing his murderous desires. He lifts her with his masculine arms. Twirls her around to gently lay her on the warm sand. Let me understand something. When I first spoke with Sonya I got the impression that you two were more than co-workers and roommates. Don’t tell me whether I was wrong or right, holding up one hand, I don’t care. Mereda baby, I am very secure in life. I have a little money, no kids, no exs waiting to exhale, I’m good looking, he smiles and baby, he whispers as I melt from the intense heat of his charm, and I love the fact that you’re a career woman, I respect that.”
“I hear you, trying to comprehend the meaning behind his revelations. Keep speaking.”
“Will you marry me Ms. Mereda?”
Overcome by his sudden proposal mixing it with the thought of Sonya’s impending revenge, I stand to stroll through the crisp breeze, alone, with the brilliant twinkling black sky as a backdrop to my uneasy splendor. She runs her fingers through her now silky straight black hair, while looking up to heaven, winking back at the twinkling stars, opening herself up to what she feels is right, for her.
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME IF I MARRY YOU” letting the breeze carry to him her message.
“I’M GOING TO EMOTIONALLY DOMINATE YOU INTO SEXUAL SUBMISSION AND YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT” he sends back.
“OH, IS THAT RIGHT.”
“THAT’S RIGHT!’
“WELL GET OVER HERE” she gracefully orders, radiating with happiness but confused with temptation.
Jonathan positions Mereda under the stars and draws a circle around her. He steps in, “I Jonathan Bryers, do hereby under the stars God has created, take Mereda Jackson, to be my eternal companion, through and about everything love includes, keeping her secrets yet revealing her passions. Repeat.”
“I Mereda Jackson do hereby, under the stars which God has created take, Jonathan Bryers to be, my eternal companion, through and about, everything loves includes. Keeping his secrets yet revealing his passions.”
They embrace, overflowing with each other’s commitment. The meaningful kisses and passionate caresses he supplies allows Mereda a mild orgasm.
Days later they have a beautiful private ceremony with only the Armani-clad minister and his up-kept missus as witnesses.
 
Six months into the marriage, Mereda is having her six-room, single level, mostly of glass, circular-constructed, home decorated to her specific style and taste; her silver 2007 Mercedes Benz polished and four foot tall pine trees planted on her four acres of lush land as rockin’ Tina Turner blares from her state-of-the-art plasma stereo.
“Big wheels keep on turnin’ proud Mary keeps on burnin’, and I’m rolling, rollin’, rollin’ yeah, rollin’ down the river,” she screams along with Tina. Her phone chimes,
“What’s up.”
“I need to see you.”
“What to tell you I don’t know. We can’t continue in this violent relationship, friendship or otherwise. Sonya if I can except this then you have to too.”
“You went off you crazy bitch and got married to that punk-ass nigga who you lied about being with while we were trying to reconcile and told me after the fact and your response is for me to get over it. Okay bitch just wait; I’m about to have to get over yo’ dead ass!”
“Why are you threatening me!? If you fool with me Jonathan will deal with…”
“Jonathan won’t be around to deal with a damn thing.”
“So now you’re threatening my husband!?”
“You, are, not going, to believe, what’s about to, happen. I’ll inform your husband that you were my wife first before I slit his god-awful throat.”
“He doesn’t care about that, wondering if he really would. I already told him” I lie.
“Well maybe he just needs to hear if from me” and slams the receiver dead.

“Ms. Thomas I’m glad you gave me a call, Agent Merriweather says. Are you at a fax? The number is 404-555-6238, he quickly provides. I’ve been searching for the next lead on this menace for some time.”
“He’s out of the country on some sort of business. He’s married to a girlfriend of mine. I might be able to find out when he’ll return” Sonya informs, glad she’d been on the internet that week-end.
“You’ve been remarkable. This murdering bastard needs to be stopped right now.”
“Why do you think he hasn’t killed Mereda” Sonya inquires.
“One can never tell what’s going on in another’s mind; she’s doing something right” he smiles to himself.

Ring, rrriiinnnggg, rrriiinnnggg.
“Hello.”
“Is Mr. Bryers available?”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Custard Harris.”
“Custard as in pie, Harris?”
“Yes” not impressed at her pun.
“He’s not in now. He should be arriving soon. Can I give him a message for you?”
“Certainly. Tell him to bring in all 04, 05, and 06 CAD. 7am, conference room B.”
“Yes sir. I’ll get it right to him” I assure, disconnecting his abruptness.
 
Unbeknownst to her Jonathan has hired Reese, Reese & Stein to battle for leniency, seeing an acquittal was not an option. The charges in Agent Merriweather’s file listed aggravated rape, aggravated sexual assault and almost 10 counts of murder; horrific capital murders. Mr. Harris had just hung up from a conference call with Roberson and Merriweather, all agreeing for 6:40am arrival, conference room B. The undercover officers would be sitting suit-and-tied in the lobby.
Jonathan’s professional life as Market slash accounts Director for Wilkins, Young & Wilson has earned him bragging right amongst Corporate America’s elite; power lunches at Spago’s; tailored suits and multiple growing mutual funds. His Morehouse education,
acclamations, social circle and sheer eagerness to succeed is well disciplined in six feet one inch of ideal sexual attraction.
 
8 o’clock, my baby should be home shortly” I coo, spraying on two squirts of Aspen for Women. She dances from room to room, shaking and making sure everything is in its place.
Jonathan blows into the house as Mereda exits the bathroom, “Hey my husband, you have a very important message baby. Sounds important.”
“It can wait until you bring me those big juicy lips and tell me how you’ve been since I’ve been away. That’s what’s important” he says placing his briefcase on the sofa.
“Sure baby. I’ve had a groovy time, my book, ‘The Spices In Life’ is on the National Best Seller’s list so I need to meet my publisher in New York City on Wednesday, is that cool with you, always considering his feelings. I’ll have to leave Tuesday night” patting her ‘private’ and sliding her hand up around her perky breast leaving little of her voluptuous-ness to his monstrous imagination.
“Now that’s what I call beautiful baby, unloosening his silk black and beige designer tie. Well I guess I’ll be pulling extra hours Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. So what was my VIM?”
“Custard Harris insists you bring 04, 05 and 06 CADs, 7am conference B.”
“Alright. I’m taking you out. Give me an hour to get myself together.”
Jonathan disappears into his private, private study, leaving a trail of expensive clothes.
“Hey Sonya. How are you doing” Mereda whispers softly.
“I don’t have any other choice but to be all right at this point. This past year has given me time to clear my head and focus on moving forward. Did you call for a long talk or…”
“Jonathan’s in the shower.”
“You two going out.”
“Yes.”
“Have a great time, Sonya wishes but not sincerely wanting them to. We need to talk Reda.”
“I can tell Jonathan that I have to run an errand and be there in a few minutes.”
“Girl you are insane. You ain’t trying to set a sista’ up are you. I remember all that mess that was said and…”
“Girl meet me in the driveway so we can talk.”
“Cool.”

Emotionally, physically, sexually, Mereda’s life is a swirling wind of firecrackers exploding; exploding in her head as Jonathan reaches and Sonya surrenders. Mereda is an ALLURUNG TEMPTATION.
The end; no, to be continued.
 
Kim Wilson
OOWEE

Note that I'm not a literary scholar, I'm just a writer that loves to read; and I read to be captured and entertained.