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Everyone knows the woman in the "viral” video that hit two million views on YouTube. Humiliated, Tamar Johnson changed her name and disappeared behind the embarrassing video that captured her losing her virginity on prom night. But who was the guy?

NFL Running Back Stephen Pierce is football’s darling. He’s spent his entire career doing community service work with at risk kids, and endeared fans as a devoted Christian, even claiming celibacy. It’s time for his high school reunion. Stephen is determined to get his EX, Tamar, to come out of hiding, even going as far as posting their prom picture on Instagram in hopes that she would accept the challenge to show up.
Tamar isn’t interested in the reunion, but her boss is. She writes for a small magazine. Stephen Pierce is a BIG story.

With reunion activity in full swing, tension between Tamar and Stephen reaches an unbearable level.
Before it’s over will the world find out who the real Stephen Pierce is? And will Tamar survive spending time with the only man who’s ever had her heart?
Coming Thursday December 15th.

Chapter 1

“You’re fired.”

I frowned. “You can’t fire me.”

“Actually, I can.” My boss, Eva Stanford, dropped into her chair. She folded her arms over each other on the desk. That position meant business. So did the steely glare in her eyes.

“You can’t.” This time my voice held the question. Could she?

“I’m the managing editor. I can fire whomever I want.”

“But I have a contract.”

“You sure do. Have you looked at it since you signed it? There’s a part in the legalese that says you have to do the stories that are assigned to you.”

I hadn’t looked at my contract in years. I never had a reason to. I was happy doing the stories that came across my desk. I didn’t have aspirations of becoming some big time reporter. All I wanted to do was pay my bills and keep pecking at the novel I’d been revising for three years. But now paying my bills might become an issue.

“I can’t do a story about Stephen Pierce. I don’t know anything about sports.”

Eva picked up her cell phone and shoved it in my direction. “You may not know sports, but you know him. I’m pretty annoyed that you kept that from me.”

I took the phone and looked down at an Instagram photo of myself and Stephen. The blood drained from my face. Pain constricted my heart. He was going to be the death of me. “This is my prom picture.”

“That’s obvious.” Eva rolled her eyes. “One of the interns brought it to my attention. He recognized you.”

I squinted at the picture. My head got light. I was glad I was sitting.  “I can’t believe he posted this.”

“He’s on his way to your reunion. I guess he’s feeling nostalgic.” 

I continued to stare at the picture – at him really. I hadn’t seen this picture in years. I didn’t even have my yearbook or any of the memorabilia anymore. My exasperated sigh filled the momentary quiet. “It’s not my reunion. It’s a thing they do. It’s for all classes.”

“Small school stuff. I get it.” Eva unfolded her arms and pressed her back into her plush, leather chair. “You’re thirty, right? So it’s been eleven – twelve years since prom?”

I nodded.

“Did you go to this thing last year?”

“I don’t go to my reunions.” I pushed the offending phone across the desk to her.

Eva cocked her head. “I’m sure there’s a story there. Does it involve Pierce? Do you ever talk to him?”

I fought hard to keep my face from telling my truth. “He was a prom date, Eva. It was a lifetime ago. I have no idea what he’s doing now.”

Eva extended a manicured fingernail and tapped on the screen. “Hmmm…the caption over his Instagram is evidence that he’s curious about what you’re doing. He put the same thing on Twitter.”

I sighed again. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I was not getting out of this. I harnessed my irritation. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me do this. I haven’t been to Pine since I finished high school.”

Eva reached for a lipstick-smeared, latte cup. “Stephen certainly seems to love it. It looks like he spends a lot of time there.”

Easy for him to do. I resented that.

“Do you have family there?” Eva probed.

I shifted in my chair. “Some.” 

“They’ll be glad to see you.” She pushed the button to boot up her laptop. “People get old. They die. I can’t stand my family either, but I visit every few years or so.”

I stood. The booting up of her laptop meant I was dismissed.  “Eva –”

“It’s settled, Anne. I need a good story. We’re going to run this for February. Try to find out if he’s dating someone. Something romantic for a Valentine feature.”

I shook my head. “You know how private he is. He’s not going to tell me that.”

Eva cocked an eyebrow. “I won’t push. You know what I need for a cover story.”

I turned to leave the office.

Eva called to me. “Any truth to that rumor about him? The one about the video.”

I swallowed. “That old story?”

“Nothing is really old. I’ll have to see if we can dig up that video. Ask him a question or two about it.”

“Asking him about the video is not going to endear him to me. He really won’t talk to me then.”

“You’re right, but you can ask. I know this isn’t what you normally do, so I’ll send you a few questions. You always ask the hard stuff after you get the easy stuff.”

“I know how to do my job, Eva.”

She lowered her eyeglasses and peered down her nose at me. “You’re acting like you don’t.”

I resisted the urge to fight with her. She always won. “I need to take the afternoon off. I wasn’t planning to go, so I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Fine. Expense it. Expense a trip to the hair salon, too.  You need it. Donna has your itinerary and some other details.”

I walked to the door, grabbed the handle, did a half turn and looked back at her. “I guess this is just as good a time as any to tell you this, because it’ll probably come out now that I’m going to the reunion.”

A disconcerting look came over Eva’s face. “Spit it out.”

“Anne Ferguson isn’t my real name.”

Available on Kindle and Nook and Paperback
 
 
Chapter 1

Fame comes at a price. Cameron Scott knew that better than anyone in her circle. One day you were “fab” and up. The next day you were down, walking the streets like a nobody with hashtag FAIL on your forehead. Fans, the media, friends and family talked about you on either end of the extreme, but you were invisible when you fell in the middle which was where Cameron was thought to be at this point in her career. Technically, she was actually at the bottom. Her fans just didn’t know it yet.

Her contract with RAT Productions, Real American Television, was not going to be renewed. The show, similar to The Chew and The View, was replacing her. Her former boss was clear that she wasn’t gritty enough for the sexy relationship chatter the show wanted to be known for nor had she brought authenticity to her feelings about what was going on in the featured guests’ lives.

Authenticity to her feelings? He didn’t want that. She’d never have a single good thing to say about a man. That was REAL. Every experience she’d ever had was negative, from the first man in her life to the most recent, her ex-fiancé, Doctor Rick Housely. If Cameron’s thoughts could kill, he’d be resting in peace right now for announcing their break-up on television before he even told her. And she thought the folks sending break-up text messages were bad. Rick was such a jerk.

Housely was being interviewed on Entertainment This Week. When the interviewer asked him about their wedding date, he’d turned toward the camera with a sincerity that only those dreamy eyes of his could convey, and said, “I love you, Cameron, but I’ve searched my heart and prayed to God. I’m not ready for marriage. I hope you’ll forgive me. I hope America will forgive me.”

“Have you forgiven yourself?” the interviewer asked pushing the microphone further into his face. If she wasn’t careful she’d hit that new cap he had on his front tooth and he’d jump on her.

Rick continued, “I have, because I know we’re human and we make mistakes.”

Human. Rick was barely that. Ambitious. That was more like it. And gay. Most definitely gay. If Cameron hadn’t searched her heart, she’d shout that out to the entire world. But she had searched her heart and realized there was no reason to out Housely. Telling the world she’d accepted an engagement ring from a gay man was way down on the list of things she wanted to talk about. In fact, taking a ring from any man bottomed out a long time ago. And the truth was, she didn’t love him. He’d lied about his sexuality and she’d lied about a few things of her own, so they were even.

“You look familiar,” the taxi driver stated peering back at her.

Cameron noticed he’d been stealing glances every so often and she knew that peek. It was the, ‘I’ve seen you on T.V.’ look that she’d grown accustomed to getting. “Weren’t you on that show with that guy?”

Cameron bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes and looked down into her purse. “Yep. Is There A Saved Man In The House?”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. That’s right. The dating reality show.” He nodded his head a few times. She could tell he was smiling to himself like he’d figured it out on his own. “Sorry about the breakup.”

Cameron looked up and forced a smile. “Thank you, but I’ve decided to assume it’s for the best.”

“Yes, but to put it on T.V. like that,” he began. “I don’t know how you Hollywood people do it. I don’t think you could pay me a million dollars to be on T.V. with all those cameras following me and knowing all my private life.”

Cameron took in his reflection in the rear-view mirror then sized up the condition of the grungy taxicab. Couldn’t pay him a million dollars? She wondered what one had to pay him to get a haircut. People loved talking about what they wouldn’t do for money until money was offered to them. “The show was mostly scripted.”

“Script what?” he asked, his thick African accent getting stronger.

“There are writers. It’s not all real. We’re like actors.” She waited a beat and then added. “It is entertainment you know.”

“But people think it’s real.”

He had a valid point. And what people thought did matter. At least it did to her, but again, she wasn’t outing Housely. Theirs was a relationship built on mutual need. Housely needed to launch his film career and she needed money, lots of it. That’s why she’d auditioned for Is There A Saved Man.

Cameron never expected the on screen chemistry between her and Rick Housely to be so strong, especially since they didn’t really click much off screen. Rick had set his eyes on her early and their cat and mouse game had captured the hearts of America; the last show being the one where Rick proposed and placed a huge diamond ring on her finger. Cameron reluctantly said yes. She knew she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. And there was the matter of his questionable sexuality. She figured they would eventually break up. But even with all the anticipation of that moment, the show had been Cameron’s lucky break in more ways than one. She had the diamond, but more importantly, she was a reality television star. Every talk show from Good Morning America to Jimmy Kimmel wanted to interview her and then out of those interviews came a weekly spot on Real TV to do a piece about Christian dating. Then she got her big break with RAT Productions for the I Heart Show. But she’d blown it. She’d blown it because she couldn’t go the distance with the pretense.

Initially, she’d been fine with the dismissal. The show was stupid. She was sure she’d get another job. After all, she was Cameron Scott, America’s reality show sweetheart. But meeting after meeting, after meeting there hadn’t been a single offer. Not one call back. No interest in her at all. She was out of meetings and more importantly; she was out of time and money.

“401 Fifth Ave.” The taxi driver’s voice awakened her from her musing or was the blues a better way to describe her thoughts? Cameron was feeling sorry for herself. Sorry with a capital S.

She turned toward the passenger side window. Through the light misting of rain she glimpsed the aging building that housed the studio. She wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. Times Square, the heart of the theater district, was also the home to many of the country’s T.V. studios. This building was less than a mile away from Times Square, but it felt like it was on the other side of the world. Hashtag FAIL. She couldn’t help thinking it.

“Thanks.” Cameron handed the cab driver the fare she couldn’t afford and accepted the receipt he’d dutifully printed without asking. The cab ride was a splurge. It had been pouring down rain when she left home. She didn’t want to wrinkle or stain her Armani suit traveling on the train in the rain. With dark glasses donned, she’d definitely be on the subway for the trip home.

Cameron opened the door and a blast of bone chilling wet air hit her like a brick. Manhattan in the winter…she hated it. She forced herself out of the warm taxi. Unbeknownst to her, she stepped right into an invisible hole in the asphalt. She gasped and twisted her body awkwardly to keep from falling. Fortunately, the door provided support otherwise she would have been sprawled out on the pavement.

“You okay, miss?” the driver called. His concern was genuine, but it was not appreciated. Cameron shook her head, turned to him and shot him the stink eye. He should have been more careful about where he’d stopped the passenger side door.

“I’m fine. No thanks to you!” She slammed the door like only a true New Yorker could. Glad that the heel of her Manolo shoe hadn’t come off in the tussle, Cameron stepped up onto the sidewalk, smoothed her skirt and stopped breathing. She turned, the taxi whizzed down the street.

Her attaché case.

She’d left it on the backseat. Not only was it her favorite Coach bag, it also held her resume. How was she supposed to show up for the meeting without it?

Cameron swallowed, let out a long breath and counted to ten. “Pull it together. You know what this is about. You can’t let it rock your confidence.” She spoke the words out loud to herself, but thought inwardly, if you don’t get this job, you’ll be homeless.

Sufficiently motivated, she shook off thoughts of what she didn’t have. She’d have to improvise. It wasn’t the first time and as long as she was in the entertainment industry it surely would not be the last. But, she did want her bag back. Glad she noted the driver’s name and taxi number, as she always did, Cameron tapped on her phone until she found the main number for Yellow Taxi, filed a missing item report and put in a request for the driver to call her to get it redelivered. She entered the building, showed security her appointment letter and rode the elevator to the third floor.

“I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread.” She closed her eyes tight and whispered the verse from Psalm 37 over and over during the ride. The elevator doors opened. Cameron walked into a lobby full of women. Most of them were familiar: a couple of former stars from the Housewives franchise, one of the twins from that show about the sisters, she could never remember which was which, Tia and Tamera and one of the youngins’ from the Kardashian clan. Her breath caught in her throat. So much competition. She wanted to repeat the scripture again, affirm what she knew by giving the Word power, but the only thing she could think as she approached the receptionist desk was maybe she wasn’t one of the righteous.

Visit the Books Page for purchase links.


 
 
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Three people at the brink of achieving all they’ve dreamed of since childhood…will the past get in their way?

Zannia Morrow is blazing a path to stardom as supermodel, Zane. Her million dollar face and body have landed her the most coveted modeling contract in the business, but Zannia has a problem. It’s one that money and success can’t fix.

Bonita Jones ran away from home at the age of 16. Now she’s Benxi, a hot new R&B singer with the right voice and look to take her right up the charts.  Her future is bright, but she’s done some things she’s not proud of. She’ll do anything to keep her secrets, even if includes sacrificing the success that’s right within her reach.

Mekhi Johnson has had success as a music producer. He’s got the talent, connections, and drive to take him all the way to the top.  He just needs the right artist to make it happen for his record label. Will he be able to sign Benxi, or will an old enemy stand between him and his next level?


Why is the theme of this project important?

Life if full of unpredictable events and sometimes bad things happen to good people. Stuff happens. I like to believe that my strength as a writer is in creating complex characters with deep wounds. The kind of hurts that only God can heal. Almost There is a story about the ugly stuff in life that happens to some people as children and young adults that impact their choices and often their options.

Almost There is a prequel to a novel I’ll be releasing in November. It’s the backstory for  Mekhi and Benxi, supporting characters that my readers have already become acquainted with in my Samaritan Woman series. Other titles are An Inconvenient Friend, What Kind of Fool, and Righteous Ways. I’ve also introduced a new character. Her name is Zane.

As for new readers, I think Almost There is the perfect place to begin with my books because it’s the story that happens before An Inconvenient Friend begins. In that respect, it stands completely alone as a title for the series.

What did you learn about yourself while writing this book?

That I have to stay true to the story, no matter what my brand is or what my readers expect of me. 

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An Excerpt

Chapter 1

I know I hadn’t heard the words that came out of my sister’s mouth correctly. Her statement almost made me drop my brand new seven hundred dollar phone in the toilet. I pulled it away from my ear, set it on the knee wall next to the commode and pushed the speaker button.

“I know you’re probably shocked, but I’m so happy I could cry!”

I closed my eyes to the sound of her voice. She hadn’t said what I thought she’d said. She hadn’t said she was marrying Terrance Wright. She couldn’t have said that.

“Deniece, I know you’re still there. I can hear those stupid wind chimes in your bathroom window.”

I peeked over my shoulder at the noisy ornament that had betrayed me and smirked. Even though she knew I was present, I considered pushing the end button and pretending the call had dropped. But I knew there was no point in doing that. Pesky as she was, she’d only call back until I answered.

I swallowed, lowered the toilet seat lid and plopped my “needed to lose twenty pounds” behind down. “I’m here,” I croaked like I’d sucked in a room full of dry air.

“I know you’re surprised, because who would have thought I’d be interested in your leftovers, but it’s a long story how we got to know each other and although I feel kind of bad that he’s kinda ex-ish for you, I can’t help but be happy because I’ve found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

I shook my head. This was crazy. Way out there for a pre-coffee conversation. Kind of ex-ish? Had my sister lost her mind?

“He proposed last night. I was going to call you when I got home but it was close to midnight and I can never remember if you’re in a different time zone.”

I rolled my eyes. “New York is on the east coast just like you are, Janette, but I was asleep at midnight so I appreciate you holding off on your news,” I refused to say good, “until this morning.”

“I have so much to do. I need your help like yesterday. Do you think we could talk about some wedding stuff?”

I stared at the phone, tempted once again to push the end button and disconnect the call. “No, boo.  I’m not even dressed and I have an appointment to get to, so I most definitely can’t talk about this right now. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait!” Janette shrieked. “There’s one more thing. I need a favor.”

My baby sister was and had always been oblivious to my feelings. It would never occur to her to ask, “Are you okay with me marrying the only guy you have ever loved?”

I swallowed again. This lump nearly choked me going down, because it was a knot full of regrets. My sister didn’t really know that much about my relationship with Terrance. I’d done much too good of a job denying and disguising that fact all those years ago to really hold her accountable for my heartache, but still, the backstabber knew there was a rule most women held fast to…never date your girl’s exes. Surely, she knew the rule applied to sisters as well.

“What’s the favor?” I asked, rolling off a few sheets of toilet paper. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t dare ruin my makeup. I had to be out of the door at a meeting with a new client in fifteen minutes.

“I need you to come home as soon as possible and pull the wedding together for me.”

I popped to my feet like someone had sprung me from a Jack-in-the-box. “Janette Malcolm,” I said, using the sir name we shared. “I know you aren’t asking me to plan a wedding for you and my ex-boyfriend.”

Janette’s spoiled attitude came through on the phone. “Why not? You’re a wedding planner and it’s not like he’s a new ex. There’s a string of exes between him and you.”

I fought to keep my mouth shut, because my temper was rising. My sister continued. “And besides the favor is for me not him. I’m the one who needs the help. All Terrance will do is get a tux and show up.”

Terrance in a tux, the image took me back to high school. Specifically, to prom night, which was the last time, I’d seen Terrance in a tuxedo. He’d been wearing it for me, because he was my date. How crazy that the next time I’d see him in one he’d have my sister on his arm. That wasn’t right. In fact, it was all kinds of wrong.

I picked up the phone, walked into my closet and removed the dress I was planning to wear. “I’m really booked out right now. There’s no way I can fit an out of state wedding in my schedule. Hire a local wedding planner.”

“I don’t have money for a wedding planner,” Janette protested, “and the only one who is the least bit reasonable is booked up for our date.”

“Choose another date. I mean, it’s not like you guys can’t move it. He just asked you to marry him last night.”

“We can’t move the date.” Janette hesitated. There was a nervous pause in the air and then she continued, “The wedding is in a month.”

“A month?” I dropped my dress. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “Why the rush?”

“We need to have it really soon. Remember, I said I had two things to tell you?” Janette paused again. “I’m six months pregnant.”

***

 Gayle Lincoln, my best friend and personal assistant hovered over my desk. “Are you going to do it?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

Gayle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Of course you do. We all have choices.”

“She’s my sister.” I dropped my eyes to the paperwork in front of me. I could sense Gayle rolling hers above me.

“She’s being unfair.” Gayle tapped the end of her pen on the desk as if to get my attention. “If she’s going to marry him, which I suppose she nearly has to at this point, she should at least have the decency to do it in Vegas or something.”

I had considered suggesting that or even a wedding honeymoon combination on a tropical island or cruise ship, but Janette was too pregnant for that kind of travel. Even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t do it. I raised my eyes to meet Gayle’s. “You don’t know Janette. She’s dreamed of having a big wedding her entire life. Every year, when we were children, she’d get a wedding dress for her Barbie doll. She’s been watching those wedding and Bridezilla shows for years.”

“So, I repeat, she should plan something small if she can’t hire someone to handle it.”

I tightened my grip on the arms of my chair. “I know I sound crazy, but at the end of the day, after the wedding is done and even after she has the baby, she’s still going to be my sister. That’s never going to change. I don’t have much family. I can’t cut her off over a man, even if he was mine.” I rolled my eyes.

Gayle grunted like she always did when she was frustrated with me. “I’m not saying cut her off. I’m saying tell her off. Be angry. Let her know how you feel.”

“What’s getting all worked up on the phone going to solve?”

“You’ll be able to check it off the to-do list before you get to Garrison. You don’t want to blow up there. You’ll be in the same house.”

I picked up my cell phone and pushed the gallery icon for the picture Janette had sent to me just this morning. It was a sideways view of her belly. The corners of my mouth turned up. I shook my head. “Fighting isn’t good for pregnant women.”

“Puleeze, pregnant women don’t get a pass on everything.”

I sighed and threw up my hands. “You’ve met her. She’s fragile.”

Gayle pinned me with a look.

I smirked. “Okay, she’s manipulative, but that’s not changing.”

“And you’re allowing yourself to be manipulated which apparently isn’t changing either.” Gayle took a seat. “What’s up with this Terrance anyway? You’ve never really talked about him before this. How do you feel about him?”

I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I haven’t seen him in a few years. The last time I was home he was dating some woman from Atlanta, but that didn’t work out.”

“So, you keep up with his comings and goings.”

“No, my sister gossips about everybody in Garrison. I listen.”

“How do you feel when she talks about him?”

I shrugged. “Ambivalent. It’s like I want him to move on, but I don’t.”

Gayle nodded. “I’m not trying to be a shrink here, but have you ever thought about why?”

I gave Gayle the stink eye. Yes, she was trying to play shrink. “Because he’s the only man who has ever asked me to marry him. That’s a big deal. It’s like I want to keep him on a shelf for that.”

Gayle looked confused. “I never wanted to keep anyone on a shelf.”

I smirked again. “Gayle, you’re gorgeous. You get a marriage proposal everyday on the subway.”

“From crazy men,” she retorted.

“Well, you had four from men who weren’t crazy before you finally accepted the fifth. Women like me don’t have men falling all over us.”

Gayle narrowed her glare. “What do you mean women like you?”

I wasn’t sure what I meant. I let my words swirl around in my head before I responded. “Look, I know I’m pretty,” I started. That was true, I wasn’t as slim as I wanted to be, but my smooth mocha brown skin and large dark eyes had always been assets men complimented me on. Plus, I was a little on the tall side, five seven to be exact, my legs went on forever in the four inch heels I hiked around in everyday. Men couldn’t seem to get enough of those either, but that had been in my twenties and early thirties. The catcalls were less frequent now and seemed to come from the mouths of drunks rather than good-looking men who were actually worth my time. The ones who weren’t drunk were five foot five and balding. I sighed and waved my hand. “Let’s move on.”

Gayle slid a folder in front of me. “I did the things you asked. I reserved the banquet hall, the videographer and photographer. Those are the contracts from the vendors and your payment receipts. I’ll email copies so you have digital copies.”

“Fantastic. What would I do without you?”

“Hire two hardworking people to take my place.” She chuckled. “I also have a call in to the D.J. and limousine company.”

I sucked in a cleansing breath and fanned my fingers out across the desk. ‘Great, that’s a big help.”

“Did you want me to get you a list of caterers?”

“Some back ups. I have a small company in town I’d like to use. I’m going to call them myself. They’re family friends.”

Gayle put the pen she’d borrowed back in my pencil holder. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” I replied. “You can book me a flight to Atlanta. I’m headed to Garrison, Georgia, whether I want to or not.”

Chapter 2

I hated flying, which was why I hadn’t seen my sister since Christmas, nearly ten months ago. I stopped at a vending machine next to baggage claim, swiped my credit card and selected the ginger ale. Although I knew it didn’t really have ginger in it, the soft drink had quelled my stomach from the time I was a young girl. A lifetime of bouts with  motion sickness had sent my dad to the store on many occasions to get a bottle, so much so that he’d called me a “ginger-holic”. I smiled at the thought and turned the top on the bottle. I took a long sip and washed down the pain of the memory of my dad. He’d been deceased five years and still the heartache from the loss hit me everyday.

“There you are.” I heard Terrance’s voice before I registered that it was him standing in front of me. Tall, dark and handsome. He was such a cliché.

“Terrance.” That was all I could manage to say without wanting to scream.

He looked down at the floor like he was embarrassed and then raised his eyes to mine. I remembered the last time I’d really looked into his eyes. I wondered if he remembered.

“Sis!” Janette’s shriek came from behind and startled me from my memory. She was quick for a pregnant woman. She closed the space between the ladies restroom and us within seconds. Her petite frame, five foot two in height, and never more than a size four was still as petite and cute as ever. It just had a huge lump protruding from it. The green monster that always reared his head when I thought about the favor my sister had in the figure department jumped on my shoulder. She would never be fat. Not even after having a baby.

Janette’s chestnut brown skin glowed. Her dimples, the other thing I envied about my sister, framed her ridiculously gorgeous smile. A headband pushed her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, likely a wig, off her face. I don’t think I’d ever seen my sister with a headband on. She was already turning into a caricature of a housewife. She looked like a version of Reese Witherspoon dipped in chocolate for the newly filmed black version of Sweet Home Alabama staring, Beyoncé Knowles.  She extended her arms. “I know I’m big as a house, but you can still get your arms around me.”

I leaned down and squeezed. When I released her she scooted around me, grabbed Terrance’s hand and said, “See honey, I told you she’d come.”

“Was there any doubt?” I asked looking Terrance in the eyes again.

I watched his Adam’s apple move up and down. He nodded. “Well, we all know Nectar hates planes, trains and automobiles.”

Nectar, no he did not. I had to clench my fist to keep from clawing him.

“Darling.” Janette grabbed his tie and gave it a good tug. “That little term of endearment you had for my sister has to go.” She didn’t look like Reese Witherspoon anymore. I’d never seen Reese roll her neck and snap her head back.

I sighed. This was exactly why you didn’t get involved with a man someone you cared about had dated. You wouldn’t have messy situations and messy words and messy emotions. I couldn’t believe he’d just called me Nectar.

Terrance chuckled nervously and removed her hand from his tightly stretched neckwear. “Baby, you are going to choke me before I meet my son.” He continued leaning his six foot towering body over to take Janette in his arms. “Besides, I’ve always called your sister Nectar and it was because she was always eating nectarines at lunch in school. You know that. I’ve been calling her Nectar since the first grade.” He kissed Janette on the neck and continued to plant kisses behind her ear. “You are the only something sweet I’m going to want for the rest of my life.”

Ugh, I wanted to turn around and get back on a plane to New York. They were making my sick stomach even sicker. No wonder she was pregnant. They needed to get a room.

I cleared my throat and put my carry-on down at their feet. “I’m going to find my luggage.” Neither of them heard me. I departed anyway and located the carousel that indicated baggage for my flight from LaGuardia, New York. I pulled my lone bag off the conveyor belt and looked back at them. They were standing face to face, holding hands and chatting like the lovers they were. Nectar. Yes, he’d called me that for years, but it had special meaning when he whispered it in my ear the last time. It was on the night of my father’s funeral. The night he’d discovered how sweet I really was. I groaned. This visit might be more difficult than I’d anticipated.

I removed my cell from my bag and sent a text to Gayle:

Tell me why I’m here again?

Less than sixty seconds passed and my answer came.

Because she’s the only relative you care about. She’s pregnant and she needs you. That’s what you told me.

That was it. Our deceased parents would want me to support her, but they might have to do a visitation from heaven to help me make it through the next twelve days, because it was going to take an act of God to help me stop thinking about how I should have said yes when Terrance Wright proposed to me.

 ***

 Garrison, Georgia was a different world from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I loved that Manhattan was a city that truly never slept and everything I wanted was within walking distance. Great shopping, cultural activities, a diverse offering of food including all the healthy choices I’d come to enjoy that had replaced soul food in my diet. But even with all that New York had to offer I did enjoy coming home from time to time for the peace and quiet and the occasional slab of sho’ nuff fingerlickin’ good southern barbeque. Licking ones fingers was not a cool thing to do in the city, but I could put my back into a meal in these parts. A girl needed to be able to do that once in a while.

We passed the sign alerting us to reduce our speed and Terrance let up on the accelerator. The road became two lanes, bordered on both sides by Japanese honeysuckles. The sweet scent of the flowers greeted us as we passed the “Welcome to Garrison” sign at the city’s entrance.

Garrison was a small, quaint, town forty minutes outside of Atlanta. The downtown area was a roundabout filled with the city municipal buildings, shops, restaurants and a small cinema that played old movies that were on their last big screen before being packaged on DVD and placed in the Red Box. There were a few homes and rooming houses in town, but the majority of residents lived outside of the circle in the houses and subdivisions that encompassed an eighteen square mile area. Like the rest of Georgia, it was segregated, the whites living on the west half of the circle, blacks living on the east and the growing Latino population fitting in wherever they could. Like many small towns across the United States, it had taken a hit during the recession. A few storefronts were boarded up and some of the buildings needed a fresh coat of paint, including the city municipal building.

“Can you believe they’re holding a fundraiser to buy paint and bricks to resurface the court house?” Terrance asked like he’d been reading my mind. “The city is just that broke.” Those were the first words he’d said since he’d spoken at the airport. I almost welcomed the sound of his voice, because Janette hadn’t stopped yakking since we’d piled into Terrance’s truck.

I was seated in the rear of course, and listened while my sister rattled on and on about what she really wanted to get off her wedding registry and how she hoped her friends would still have money to buy a gift off her baby registry. She also talked about all the things she wanted in the wedding. As far as I could tell, she didn’t have the money or the time for most of it. From the side view, I could see Terrance grimacing every time she mentioned something that sounded the least bit expensive. I wondered if he had funds to help pull this event off or if I was expected to not only suffer through the planning and execution, but also finance it. I sighed. I knew my sister was broke. I sent her money every month.

Terrance stopped the truck in front of our family home. Like many of the houses it had been built to accommodate the warm, humid climate and included a large wrap-around porch that provided shade during the heat of the day. The roof was pitched with dormers and it was white wood that appeared to have recently been painted. I couldn’t help but think of my parents every time I saw it, especially my father. He took such pride in owning this house and was meticulous about its upkeep.

“I put a coat of paint on it back in the spring. I know how your Dad was about touching it up, even when it wasn’t quite necessary,” Terrance said as if he’d been reading my mind again. I didn’t respond. Although I appreciated it, I figured paint was the least Terrance could do for my father, after-all, he’d knocked up his baby daughter.

The door opened to my right and Terrance extended a hand to help me climb down. I felt a jolt of electricity ignite and race through my body when he touched me. He fought to look anywhere but at me and then finally did when both my feet were on the ground.

“This is wrong,” I said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Terrance swallowed and turned my hand loose. “I’ll get your bags.” He made his escape.

“Niecy, what do you think of my flowers?” Janette had her back to us. She had already traveled along the walkway a bit. She stood there with her hands on her hips. From the rear you couldn’t even tell she was pregnant. Her video girl booty was still sitting just as high as it always had. As I closed the space between us, my thoughts flashed back in time to a memory of my mother sitting on that porch. I had only been five when she was killed in a car accident. I didn’t remember much about her, but I remember her sitting on the porch in a rocking chair braiding my hair and humming hymns from church.

The scent of sweet olive flowers drifted to my nose from the planters on both sides of the porch. This house was my parent’s legacy.  It made me remember why I was actually here. Family. Promises. I was here to be a sister even if I’d been betrayed by my own.

“It’s beautiful,” I replied.

Janette wrapped her arm around mine and leaned her head onto my shoulder like she’d always done when we were kids. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad I’m not alone in the world,” she said and I thought she had read my mind.

“I’ll stick your luggage on the porch and be going.” Terrance passed us and put my suitcases at the top of the steps. He walked back toward us and leaned in to give Janette a quick peck on the cheek. “Call me later,” was all he said and within moments the truck he’d never turned off was in gear and moving down the road.

Janette released my arm. “Come on. Let’s go in. We have a lot to talk about, but your nephew is sitting on my bladder. I’ve got to pee.”

***

By seven p.m. that evening the living room was filled with women that Janette and I had grown up with. Terrance’s mother, whom I’d affectionately always known as Mother Wright and his sister, Pamela, a girl I’d never liked and now a woman I couldn’t stand, were also present for the planning of the whirlwind nuptials. I didn’t need this many hands. In fact, I didn’t need any of them except on the day of the reception to decorate, but this party had been set prior to my arrival. The good news was it was a potluck meeting so the table was covered with enough casseroles, meat dishes and desserts to keep Janette and I fed until we sat down for the rehearsal dinner.

A few big things had already been done. The wedding invitations had gone out weeks ago. The location of the ceremony was easy…Terrance’s father’s church. Mount Moriah Christian Church had beautiful grounds and a gorgeous gazebo and pond behind it. It was the perfect backdrop for a country wedding and the pictures. If it had been spring or summer, I’d have planned an outside event. But it was mid October and the weather, although arid today, could be unpredictably chilly for outdoors. So we were planning for the inside. Gayle reserved a local banquet hall for the reception.

“How many people are in the wedding party?” I asked. Janette had originally selected twelve women but I’d told her it was way too many. They were only expecting a hundred or so guests. My sister didn’t understand wedding etiquette. You couldn’t have twelve attendants when you only had a hundred people. If I was planning this wedding, she wasn’t going to mess with my sensibilities and break all the wedding rules.

Four women and Pamela raised their hands.

“And then there’s you,” Janette added.

“Janette, I’ve already told you it wasn’t a good idea for me to be in the wedding. I’m coordinating the event.”

“No need for that.” Mother Wright stood to her feet. “We have a coordinator. Sister Marie does it all the time and she’s really very good at it.”

Good compared to whom, I thought, but I merely nodded. The look in Mother Wright’s eyes was one that chastised me. She shook her head as if to say, “You are not going to get out of standing up for your sister.” I got the message.

“Mother is right. Sister Marie can direct everyone in,” Janette said. “You must be my maid of honor. You’re my sister after all. You can’t not be in my wedding.”

A loud harrumph came from Janette’s right. “She can pass if she wants to. I wouldn’t be in no wedding if my sister was marrying my ex-boyfriend,” Pamela said. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even be in town that day.”

The room fell silent. All eyes were on me including Mother Wright’s. They were waiting for what I’d have to say about that.

Janette stood to her feet, supported her weight by placing her hand near the small of her back and wobbled her way toward me. I noticed she wobbled a whole lot more since Terrance was gone. She moaned and groaned a bit too. She’d been working hard to look cute in front of her fiancé, which was so typical of my sister. Never let a man see you sweat. That was her motto.

“Now, we’re not going to talk about Niecy’s old relationship with Terrance. That’s been over. They are both over each other. My sister loves me. We have her blessing to get married. Don’t we Niece?”

I swallowed hard and lifted my glass of ice tea and took a sip. I nodded and repeated the lines I could completely agree with. “Terrance and I have been over. I love my sister.”

I wasn’t as convincing as I’d hoped I’d be. A few eyes rolled and some heads shook. You could hear a pin drop until Mother Wright clapped her hands and said, “Let’s get back to what we came here for. Next on the list is the food for the rehearsal dinner, right?” She encouraged me with a close-lipped smile and a nod of her head. I had never been really close to Mother Wright, but I knew the kind of woman she was. She cared about family. It meant everything to her. She was probably the only person in the room who really knew why I was here. No matter what I felt about it all, Janette was my sister. I had to get over the betrayal of the marriage and fight for the relationship that our deceased parents would want us to have, no matter what my sister had chosen to do to splinter it.

“Yes,” I fought to grit my teeth. “Let’s talk about the menu.”

By ten p.m. the house was empty, the food put away and my sister was in bed sleeping with her mouth open like we’d all worn her out. She was still in the bedroom she’d grown up in, refusing to move into the master where my father had taken his last breath during hospice. I understood that. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the room either. It was a shrine to our parents and we wordlessly agreed to let it stay that way.

Unlike Janette, I wasn’t tired. Even after the flight and ride from the airport and the fight to keep my emotions in check, I was still a bit wired and unable to sleep. I’d forgotten how quiet it was here. The Upper West side of Manhattan had the undercurrent of city noise twenty-four hours a day. I wasn’t used to this silence. After an unsuccessful effort to watch television and read a novel, I grabbed my sister’s keys, locked the house up and climbed into her car. I didn’t drive very often. I didn’t have a car. I’d purposely chosen to live where I could use other means of transportation. Having a car in the city was a burden. I took taxicabs wherever I had to go from the upper west side to the lower east side. And if I was desperate, the subway system would do.

I took a deep breath to quell the nausea that always kind of engulfed me when I sat behind the wheel of a car, started it and pulled out of the driveway onto the main road. I turned on the radio and listened to music from the Quiet Storm croon through the speakers. This radio station probably wasn’t the right choice as the romantic love songs only served to remind me of what I’d been fighting to forget all day, really, all month…that no one loved me. I was thirty-five years old, hadn’t had a date in over six months and now the only man that had ever really wanted me was marrying my sister. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and burst into tears.

“Durn you, Janette, you could have had anyone. Why Terrance?” I cried and I cried and I cried. I was crying so hard that I hadn’t even noticed a car had stopped behind me until I heard the light rap on the passenger side window. My heart froze with fear. Had I checked all my city slickness with my bags at the airport? What was I doing sitting on the side of the road in a car at eleven p.m. in the country? Waiting for a serial killer? I took the car out of park. I let it leap forward a bit to signal him to get out of the way before he was in the ditch. The only reason I didn’t gun the engine was because I might have dragged him down the road.

“Nectar! Wait! It’s me.”

Nectar, nobody called me that but…I put my foot on the brake and leaned a bit to my right to get a better look at him. Well, there was one other person who called me by that silly nickname. I pushed the button to let the window down. “Ethan Wright?!!”

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