Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Are you ready?” Axel regarded him with such solemnity.
“Ready for what?”
“For what’s to come?”
Caspian mulled that over for a moment or two. He polished off his beer, and looked into his brothers’ eyes.
“The lady I met told me that the Black woman is God. Apparently, she loves white feathers—so much so, she decorates with them. Something about her made me step outta my comfort zone and ask her out. I had to for I saw no other options.”
He leaned in close and tapped the table. “It’s pretty fucked up when you can see yourself being played like a fiddle, name the tune, but you can’t do shit about it. I know you two are going to psychologically attack me. Emotionally assault me. Maybe even try to tussle with me for old time’s sake. We haven’t had a physical altercation in a while, though typically it was you and Legend getting into it. I don’t mind a skirmish.”
He stared at his beer bottle and traced the slick, cold neck with the tip of his finger. “I know this woman I’ve asked out is going to answer the phone when I call because that’s how Mrs. Florence will ensure she’ll get her way. And I’m going to get attached to her in some form or fashion, to the point I’ll end up like y’all… all fucked up in the head and in love. The writing is on the wall. I know what’s around the fuckin’ corner and I can’t stop it. I challenged Mrs. Florence, told her to bring it, so she did. And she’s just getting started.”
“Are you scared?” Legend asked with a smirk.
“Not at all. I never run from a challenge or get too comfortable. Getting too comfortable can equal complacency. I know how to make money. I know how to further my career. I don’t know how to make peace. I’m willin’ to learn, but on my own terms. She wants to play a game.” He shrugged. “Cool. Deal me in. Can’t nobody tell me what to do, except for me. Mrs. Florence put a woman in front of me that she knew would be hard for me to resist, but I went along with it because I wanted to. I just need to make it clear that I know what’s going on. Nothing will surprise me. Nothing will make me run off in fear. After you’ve seen some of the things I’ve seen in my lifetime, it takes the missing father in my life, the son I was for only five years, and Mrs. Florence’s holy ghost to make me even blink an eye… Now that’s a hell of a trinity.”
Ashanti’s ‘Foolish’ played out as Azure’s soundtrack while she cleaned her apartment. There was something about hearing good music on an early Saturday morning, after wolfing down a plate of grits, fresh strawberries, and scrambled eggs. Oh yes, and the coffee. She’d had two cups with plenty of cream and a lil’ sugar.
She sang the lyrics to the song while dusting the shelves lining the walls in her living room, then across her fireplace mantle. Spic and span. She glanced up at the ceiling.
I got to hit that fan, too. Probably two inches of dust on those blades. I’ll get my step stool in a minute. She grabbed the bottle of lemon Pledge and prepared to spray the cloth with a bit more of the dusting solution when her phone rang. Setting the can down, she walked over to her dining room and picked up her cellphone.
I don’t know this number. Probably spam. Ignoring it, she went back to cleaning. A couple of minutes later, she heard her phone buzz, letting her know she had a voicemail.
I know it’s some computerized voice talkin’ about a car warranty or some shit like that.
Sighing, she put the voicemail on speaker and began cleaning again.
“Azure, this is Caspian.” She immediately paused. Stopped in her tracks. “I met you this past weekend at my aunt’s yard sale. I’m following up with you, wantin’ to take you out. I had invited you out to breakfast but we can do lunch or dinner, whichever works best for you.” His husky voice vibrated through her phone, causing a tingling sensation at her nape. Damn, he sounds as good as he looks. He has a face for movies and a voice for radio. “You can call me back at the number that appears on your phone. You probably thought this was some sort of spam call, so you didn’t answer.” She burst out laughing. “Just in case, my number is 770-555-5551. I live in Roswell, Georgia, so that’s the reason for the 770-area code. Talk to you soon.”
And that was it. He was matter-of-fact, straight to the point and insightful.
She turned the music off, then sat down on one of her white leather dining room chairs, wearing only an oversized black tank top and some polka dot panties. She picked up the phone and dialed back the last number. After a couple of rings, he answered.