I got a lead in Jackson for a 6 month public relations internship, followed by an opportunity to be hired into the company. Let’s be honest: I slept through the two PR classes I had to take. But I dropped my resume online and was called almost immediately for an interview. This was a good sign, I could feel it. Continue reading
Mom, Dad, Let’s Talk Sex
Standard“Sexgate” was 6 days ago.
We don’t discuss it. Dad has been giving me awkward looks and Mom is her usual bubbly self, seeming unaware of how psychologically damaged I have become. I’ve heard them three more times since the original incident. I have been camping out in my car whenever they get started. Continue reading
Mom, Dad, Let’s Talk House Rules
StandardThe air got a little thinner in my Malibu. Was I having a panic attack? I rested my head on the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths. “You can do this, Erica,” I repeated to myself, not entirely convinced. Moving back home was a HUGE step backwards. I had already jumped feet first into life when I decided against all the Michigan universities, unlike my high school peers. I applied to the private Windsor University, which was 45 minutes south of Chicago, and was accepted with an almost full ride. 5 years, my diploma and $5,500 in loans later, I moved to Chicago in hopes of becoming the next hotshot protegé. Continue reading
Mom, Dad, Let’s Talk Unemployment
StandardI graduated from Windsor University two years ago with my Bachelors in Interpersonal Communication with a minor in Marketing. Somehow, Malcolm Henderson Jr. High School thought I was more than qualified to serve as their guidance counselor, a cushier job than I expected fresh from college. I didn’t realize the reason behind my hiring was the fact that the school was nearly broke and they could only afford a “guidance counselor” who didn’t think to go into negotiation concerning salary. So when we received the mass memo that the school would not be reopening for the 2015-2016 school year, my jaw hit the floor. Continue reading
Chapter Five
StandardAndrew had to stomp on the brakes to prevent slamming into the back of the Taurus waiting at the light ahead. “Jesus…where’s your head at, partner?” Velez said, clutching the handle over him. “Sorry man, I’m just… Distracted,” Andrew said, scratching his head. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Nah, it’s nothing.”
“Look, mano, you can’t leave stuff bottled up, especially out here. You’ll get an ulcer,” Velez said, swatting his partner’s arm. They rode farther in silence. Even though they had been partners for almost 10 years, Martin Velez knew Andrew hated sharing his personal problems and pressuring him would only make him clam up more. “You know…” Andrew started, “Alice and I have been…having problems.”
“Sort of,” Velez responded, giving his partner his undivided attention. “I don’t know. It’s just… After she got that promotion, she just… Hasn’t been around,” Andrew said, attempting to be vague. “Have you talked to her about it?”
“I can’t do that, man. I’m supposed to be… Happy, supportive, you know, husband shit.”
“Actually, I don’t,” Velez said, chucking. Andrew’s mouth tightened into a hard line and Velez realized his joke had gone too far. “What I meant was, I’m not married. But talking seems like the best route.”
“I can’t. Especially since…” Andrew wasn’t sure how to word it. “Cmon Jordan, you’re a good dude! You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. It’s not like you lie or cheat on her,” Velez said. Andrew glanced over at his partner silently. Velez turned in his seat to face Andrew. “Wait, you’re cheating on Alice???” Continue reading
Chapter Four
StandardThe neighborhood hadn’t changed, except for being buoyant and lively, many of the homes were empty shells of their former glory. Roman stopped his car in front of one of the lots, few signs of a house’s existence there. He put the car in park on the curb and got out. He stuck his hands into his pockets and stared. So much history on this very spot. He’d been gone long enough and he was back to claim what was his. Continue reading
Chapter Three
StandardEven with her music blaring, Desi could still ear Brian milling about her flat. He had been over every night for the past week and he was driving her crazy. She sat and stared at the blank canvass as she listened to him bop around the kitchen. He whistled along to “Pretty Brown Eyes” as he chopped the ingredients for his smoothie. Desi rubbed her forehead in disdain, trying to force an image out of her head. She needed to work. The blender started an ear-splitting grinding, drowning out the music overhead. Desi exclaimed out loud and threw down her paint brush. Hearing the commotion, Brian silenced the blender and the music. “You say something, babe?” he asked, looking across the room. Desi’s back was to him but he could still see her, holding her head. He rounded the kitchen island and strode across the room. He put his hands on her shoulders and started to massage her. Desi slipped from his grip and moved away from him. She held her hands out in front of her. Continue reading
Chapter Two
StandardExcept she wasn’t asleep.
Alice lay in the bed still as she could, careful not to stir her snoring husband. The sun crept slowly into their bedroom before she slipped from the covers. She showered and dressed quickly: stockings, dress, blazer, an ensemble she chose with great care the night before. She wanted to look good. She applied her makeup carefully as she stared at her visage in the mirror: she was beautiful, but her eyes gave away the emptiness that resonated in her Continue reading
Siren
StandardAll it took was one deep breath and the room was ablaze.
The women were captivated. The men were enthralled. Cascading through the room, all of the eyes were on him and his instrument. He told a story to the crowd; one of seduction, one of love, one of the raw passion that lie deep within them all. Every chest rose and fell to the melody of his march. He was the hypnotist and they were hypnotized. This was a tale to be told over and over, one that he could never complete, one that consumes his life. It was his work, his lover, his religion, his consolation. It made him smile, made him cry, pissed him off but still clung to his skin like the sweat on his back.
So they danced again. The hot stage lights burned him, beads of sweat rolling from his hairline, down the crease in his forehead and down his face. It was a small price to pay for the love and he paid it every single time. He put his all into the music, even though his shoes were too tight and his back had begun to cramp. Small price to pay. The music radiated from him like a pheromone, ensnaring the unattached women in the joint, the women who had shimmied into tight dresses and tall heels for him; women who burnt their ears and applied and reapplied rouges and powders to impress him. He was a simple man. His woman was not a vain nor jealous lover; she was always patient with him when his attention was diverted because it would only be for a moment. She knew that soon, his rough and warm fingers would careen around her and it would only be a moment before his lips were wrapped around her and when they were, what a glorious sound! She was his siren, his muse, his Aphrodite. She owned every part of him and he gave himself to her willingly.
So they entwined, their tangled webs drifting through the air and surrounded those in earshot. The world fell away and littered at his feet, nothing but rags of stress and dissatisfaction. Nothing gave him the feeling of the humming in his feet, the sway in his hips, the tap of his shoe. Nothing mimicked the moment of escape, no one could guide him from the darkness, away from the flame. The room was ablaze and he would burn for it.
Chocolate High
StandardHow can I tell you no when you shake me in parts I never knew of? You only want me because you know what you do to me. You get your kicks on my yearning, how bad I want you to touch me there, to wrap your fingers around my love for you. Even after my world fell apart, even after you broke my heart. I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t “her”. The words were there, sure, but the rest of it, the parts that matter don’t belong to me. They belong to her, wait, to her, no no, for sure they’re hers. What did I do to deserve this feeling? I just wanted your body; how dare you make me love you? How could you whisper in my ear, all the ways you need me, literally sweet nothings that made me cling to you tighter and give you every single little drop…? How did we get here? What voodoo do you do and where the fuck are my panties??? My brain is screaming to me, trying so hard to shut me down but damn, my body’s humming to that strumming. This body is a slave to you & I’m trapped in my mind, trying to rationalize our betrayal. The wrong thing is on my mind, this love I’ve been burning for; baby it’s hers. Mine isn’t up for grabs, I took it away so long ago. Can someone please inform my loins? You never belonged to me, so what is it about this flame? Why does it still burn so hot for you and why do I keep getting burned?
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