The Real Grandmothers of Charlotte Keep it Real

If Wanting Him is Wrong...(I Don't Want to be Right)

2020-12-11T23:59:00.001-05:00

The event planning business that Alexis had struggled so diligently to build was recuperating quite nicely from the sudden tailspin it went in a few months ago. All of the publicity that was circulating in the atmosphere concerning socialite Debra Kay Charmaine, and the accusation and subsequent arrest of the young bride-to-be impacted Alexis's business in both a negative and a positive way. Alexis herself had reeled from the shock of being a witness for the prosecution against Debra Kay, and she had to actually close up shop for a few days until she could regain her bearings. After all, it isn't everyday that a person gets a call from one of her clients just hours before the nuptials confessing that she had just killed her groom.

After Alexis had recovered sufficiently to re-open the doors to her business, she discovered much to her delight, that her brief notoriety had made others seek her out. Her best friend Bonnie had laughingly told her that it was nothing like free publicity! One of her longtime friends Cassidy Willoughby had also become her 'unofficial' assistant. Callie (aka 'Delicious Diva') Bennett had been hired when Alexis opened the shop, and she had proven to be invaluable the entire time; even during the shop's temporary shut down. She was an enthusiastic, smart and very capable young woman.

Callie reminded Alexis of herself when she was that age. Fresh-faced, eager to learn, eager to work and determined to succeed. But recently with the influx of new clients, Alexis and her business manager had taken a second look, and decided it was a smart move to bring in another associate. Cassidy had found herself with a lot of "empty nest " time on her hands, so she volunteered and Alexis accepted her friend's gracious offer. Besides with a daughter in her freshman year of college, the extra money she'd be making would come in handy.

That was not all of the recent happenings where Alexis was concerned. A few weeks ago, she had received a Facebook friend request an a chat message from an old co-worker. It had been ages since they had worked together, and frankly she was surprised he even remembered her, when she got the friend request. So when he started the chat sessions with her, they were nothing out of the ordinary in the beginning.

Then he became bolder and bolder as the sessions increased. He didn't miss a chance for contacting her whenever they happened to be online at the same time. After the first week , he asked for her phone number so that they could leave Facebook and begin texting each other. She agreed and the madness began.

His aggressiveness was both flattering and somewhat intimidating at the same time. His language was more than colorful when he described the things he wanted to do her. He also went into explicit detail about what he wanted from her as well. She couldn't be sure if he was really excited about her, or if he was simply a freak. Either way, she could not muster up the slightest bit of enthusiasm when it came to him, but she decided that she would play along just for fun. Little did she know that very soon the tables would turn on her!

His questions about her sex life were relentless, and then he started asking her to send photos of herself. All of this was coming from a married man who was at home at night with his wife in the same house. Alexis had to finally admit to herself that she was starting to get more than a little turned on. She was considering his proposal that they hook up. With each text conversation,she was being pulled further and further into this web of sexual desire and she felt herself sinking into a place where she'd swore never to return.

It had taken her years to climb out of that rat hole her past actions had put her in,and she had taken a personal vow not to ever fall into that pit again. The pure hell of living with regret, self recriminations and guilt had taken a huge toll on her in the past. When she got free...she cut all ties to that life.

Now here was this man who had awakened a dormant passion in her; a desire to be fulfilled as a woman again. She was seriously considering his invitation to join him in a sexual relationship. He had stated to her after they'd been communicating for about a month (nearly every single night for a couple of hours each) that he 'could not afford to get involved in an ongoing affair, but he definitely wanted to establish a purely physical hook up every now and then) and knowing this going in she was still thinking about doing it.

How pathetic was she? Had the longing to be close to a man and be consumed by him taken over her rational thought? What was she thinking; rather not thinking about? These and more questions plagued her yet they did not completely dissuade her from the idea. Rationale and conscience had not yet assuaged her. The score was now skewed in favor of satisfaction and she knew she was in over her head.

She had been alone for so very long! Her last relationship with Frank had not ended well and had left her brokenhearted and jaded. Oh sure...she had dated a few men since during the past two years, but never seriously and never had any of them gotten her so turned on. This new man (her very own Mr.X) was inside her head and was taking up all of the space previously used for common sense thinking and actions.

She wanted to be held. She wanted to be caressed and loved and share that intimacy with a man again. It had been too long, and she wanted it badly. And she wanted this man. She wanted him to take her and to possess her and make her his for whatever time they had together.

What was she to do? And was she truly prepared to pay the full price, counting the cost of this desire? When she paid, there would be no refunds and no turning back. It would have to be all...or nothing.

2020-12-03T07:15:00.002-05:00

Freefall

For more years than I care to count, I have had to chase away the darkness. Always trying to stay one step in front of it, and knowing that it was always there; lurking around every corner and hiding in every shadow of my mind. It was a constant reminder that my mind was fragile. A step or two from the edge. That I would never be able to let down my guard, for to do so would mean certain death.

I've heard that most seemingly sane people with seemingly healthy minds are only a thought away from being able to commit a heinous crime or inflict bodily harm on another person. But for the grace of God, we all go. Grace is a wonderful gift from God and he freely gives it way to us whether we are deserving of it or not. Its part of what makes him God. But in just the same way that we are perpetually close to crossing over an invisible line from sanity to psychological delusional behavior, then we are as easily susceptible to fall from that life sustaining grace.

I'm not entirely clear on the logistics of my crossover. The 'when' and the 'where' remain blurry in my mind, and right now I don't want a synopsis from any well-meaning family or friends, and I certainly don't want to hear any medical mumbo-jumbo from these idiot doctors who think they know me and presume to analyze my thoughts and...motives. Everyone considers me a freak, and want me to claim that I have a 'dual personality' or an alter ego, but why I ask? There is no other identity inside my head. There's only me. I am not crazy. Not anymore.

I was told that I could say I was insane and not responsible for my actions. Okay. Maybe I am a little insane, but I do take responsibility for my bad deeds, so that wouldn't fly...right? I mean I would have tried that defense before what happened when maybe I had planned to do something before I did it, but like I've been trying to explain to these idiots that I hadn't made any previous plans ...its that I seized the moment when it was right.

Nobody knows the real deal but me. Others may assume, presume, or whatever...but only I know what really went down the moment I turned the corner and right now I ain't talking. And no; I may not be too clear on the when and where, but one thing I am clear on is the why. Make no mistake; I know why.

It was a slow but steady buildup of the small things, you know. Things like being ignored over here, and not included over there that kept piling on across time until a big ball of indifference had formed. That ball grew and grew and its sheer size caused it to roll forward gaining momentum, eventually crushing me like an emotional avalanche.

Because I simply could not take anymore from my friends. I'd had it up to and over my neck. It was mere foolishness on their part to push me. All these years and she didn't have a clue as to who I really was. None of them did. But they all smiled up in my face and hugged on me and pretended to include me in their bourgeois lives. They said they loved me like a sister. Twenty-five years of lies and deceitfulness and the worst part of it all was the condescension and the two-faced pretense that I had allowed (probably out a desperate need to belong) to blind me to the reality of their toxic minds.

So, I didn't have the financial resources that the others did. I worked every day to make a living. The money I received from my divorce settlement had been used to finance my daughter's college education, both undergrad and post graduate degrees.I put her first and didn't mind going into the bank as the Manager of the Consumer Loans division every stinking day of my life five days a week to sit and listen to why other folks needed to borrow money. And to talk to them about the pathetic details of their pathetic lives.

My friends never asked me much about my work. No, they were too busy discussing their own lives of independent means. I never measured up completely to their standards of suburban Mac Mansion living excellence, fancy cars and clothing allowances. I lived comfortably and was well dressed and all within my budget. I was able to vacation with them,go on shopping sprees and ladies nights out but they had no clue as to how I managed it. They took for granted I was just like them.

And the men! Always a new man in one of their beds. Men...men...men. And boozing it up going from one place to the other all the time. Hardly ever spending time with family. But they all had their reasons for their lifestyles, and I was determined not to judge until one night when I'd had the realization that I couldn't stand it another day. Somebody was going to pay for making me feel like a charity case. And out of the three of them; it didn't matter who. I was going in and taking no prisoners and let the collateral damage fall where it may.

I didn't have to plot or plan. Once I made up my mind I would take action I didn't waste time thinking about minor details. I knew that when the timing was perfect that it would come to me and the how's and whatever would easily follow through.

It was the time of the year for us to get together and plan our annual vacation. Last year it was Kingston, Jamaica. We all had a blast on that trip (and it took me six months to pay it off of my Visa) and we were all in agreement that we escaped the island by the skin of our teeth. What had started out innocently enough, quickly took on a sinister and dangerous turn. But, I digress. We had decided to meet at my house for dinner, drinks and vacation planning. The day and time was set and I had made all of the arrangements to entertain the ladies in the style that we had all become accustomed to. I left the room where we'd all assembled to retrieve the serving trolley full of delicious treats for us from my kitchen.

There had been a nagging, pestering thought near the front of my mind for a couple of days before they were supposed to come over. It was a recent barrage of unkind remarks that I had been on the receiving end of, carelessly made by one of the girls to the other three. I wasn't supposed to have overheard them, but I did. As I've said earlier, I have been the recipient of their stupid remarks and the butt of their jokes for years, all supposedly made in "good fun cause you know we love you girl". Of course they all loved me and meant no harm when they'd been caught red handed.

It had been said that I had an off-putting habit of trying too hard to please, and that sometimes my smiling face made me look ridiculous. I had an annoying way of always trying to be a goody two shoes and that didn't I know that I was too old to dress the way I did? And that I had been seen coming out of a consignment shop with shopping bags which obviously meant I'd made purchases there. If she can't afford to run with us, why does she keep trying? And for crying out loud, doesn't she know that hair color looks awful on her?

A different voice this time saying that they knew I had to borrow money to get by and should they offer to help pay for my vacation expenses? Another one asked why didn't I know that my furniture was badly coordinated and why for the love of roses didn't I buy a new car? They must have sensed my presence because I heard a distinctive "Shh" from the third one.

I had not meant to eavesdrop, but I had honestly left my phone in the living room and since it's charge was nearly gone, my intention was to get it and leave it on the charger in the kitchen. Innocent enough.I held my head up and kept my back straight, and pasted my "ridiculous" smile on my face as I re-entered the room. But the damage was done and in that instant I knew what I had to do. I felt the coldness close around my heart and squeeze it like a vise. I felt the nauseating disgust rise up in my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth like a geyser, but I showed none of this and my poker face did me proud. The time would come and I'd show them.

There is no rewind button for real life where you can go back and take a closer look for clarity. There is no pause button either where you can suspend life until you're ready to live it better. It's only the now and the hereafter, and the latter will be too late. Too late for apologies,for make-ups and possibly too late for forgiveness. Satisfied for the moment that I'd avenge my broken heart, I smiled normally and wheeled the trolley in.They were none the wiser that someone had just cut her own throat.

What are your comments on this?

Many of us are suffering in silence from the pain of betrayal from friends and loved ones and broken friendships. We tend to put our friends and loved ones in unrealistic places; never expecting that they would hurt us intentionally or not.We may chose to forgive and forget and move on; which is the healthiest and the best method, but for some of us its just not that simple. Of course the degree of the action is what determines how long and how fierce we may hold a grudge. A mind is fragile and its tensile strength varies from one individual to another.

When a Woman Loves a Man

2020-09-17T18:30:00.004-04:00

Remember what it felt like to fall in love for the very first time? It was so special. It was mind blowing, earth shattering and exciting ecstasy. It was also a scary, stomach churning and nerve-wracking bittersweet misery. Being reminiscent of our first experience with falling in love, it was around age fifteen (on an average), and we probably experienced a falling in love episode at least every six months or so. We could fall in and out of love at breakneck speed, and each time we began the experience it was as if it was for the first time with all of the butterflies and the wonderment.

Those times were innocent in spite of the experimentation that we all did with certain activities involving the boys we were in love with. They were awkward, yet possessing a passion that was both tender and potent. Some boys were more knowledgeable than others, and they were often called “bad boys”. And didn’t every young girl (regardless of her social status, or her family background) secretly entertain thoughts and desires to be possessed by a bad boy? You know the type; arrogant high school delinquent who smoked and drank hard liquor, had no curfews, drove a fast car he had rebuilt with his own hands, and always had girls waiting in line to be with him.

As we grew older, we stopped falling in love as easily but no less passionately. We still have a hidden susceptibility to the attraction of a bad boy. Only now, he is older, better looking, more arrogant and self- possessed and has more money. He can afford to wine and dine us and make our hearts flutter in different and much more intimate ways that often border on the raucous. This man can manifest himself in our dreams, in our private moments and he can haunt us with his sullen ways that both attract and repel us.

What’s love got to do with it? Just about everything. Heart and soul, fire and desire, the willingness to overcome any obstacle to being with this man that may present itself, and a determination born of an almost desperate desire to possess and be possessed. No mountain is too high to climb, no river is too wide to cross and no problem is too hard to solve if it tries to separate us from the man we love. We will disregard common sense, all practical reasoning, all objectivity and lose ourselves in the sheer moments of pleasure when we are with him.

Sometimes this kind of deep loving can cloud our perspectives and affect our judgment. We get ourselves into all kinds of trouble when we allow feelings to rule our entire life. Love is a beautiful thing; it is a normal human emotion. But it can be deadly to our emotional health and even physically if our minds become obsessed with an unnatural love. Many women have fallen prey to the dark side of love and have been victims of an abusive love. Many women have committed violent acts in the name of love because of a proprietary jealousy.

But it’s true that we give our all to a man when we love. Even if we’re not sure we will get what we give in return. Doesn’t matter, it’s all or nothing. Some of you may disagree with me, but that’s okay. You’re entitled to your opinion, but think about what you feel right now, or what you felt when you realized you were in love with someone. That someone can be your husband or your boyfriend, or someone from your past. You won’t have much difficulty thinking back to how you waited for a phone call, how distressed you became when he was late or didn’t show up at all with no explanation, or even worse…how you felt when you imagined him with someone else.

Love…is a many splendor thing, and it’s great when we can keep it that way; untarnished by jealousy, envy, mistrust or infidelity. But that won’t stop us from loving and it won’t stop us from giving. The stakes are high and sometimes the odds are not in our favor but we are in it to win it…all or nothing with our hearts on fire.

The Best of the RGOC Podcasts

2020-08-11T14:22:00.006-04:00

Dear Audience,

It is indeed a pleasure to be able to present you with another aspect of our Blog, and to make easy access available to you." The Best of The RGOC Podcasts" can be visisted by clicking on the link below. The page will open up in a new window, directly to Anchor Podcasts and you will be able to browse through the episodes and listen to your choices.

We believe in keeping up with the demands of an interested public, and it is our desire to provide continuous improvement by researching the needs, interests and appeal of our audience.

Thank You.

The Real Grandmothers of Charlotte

Administration

https://anchor.fm/boss-lady-2020

U -Turn to an Upgrade

2020-08-01T15:10:00.000-04:00

Have you ever just been driving along with the nagging feeling that you're definitely headed in the wrong direction? You realize that nothing about the scenery or the landmarks seem to resemble any of the places you've seen before, yet you continue to plod along getting yourself farther and farther away from familiar territory. Suddenly, it hits you and...whoa! Your brain has signaled you that it's time to slam on the brakes, come to a screeching halt and make a u-turn!

This is an example of a physical experience that can actually happen to us inside of our heads; within the depths of our psyche where all of the important stuff takes place. You see, our thoughts and our intents, our desires and our call center for action are centered within that big mass of squiggly tissue referred to as "gray matter". Gray matter is very real, and it is here that thought processes are triggered and resulting actions are spurred.

Of course, I am using theoretical analysis to make my point for this blog. I am not a doctor or a psychologist. But I do believe that I can use this analogy to illustrate my point even if the example is not 100% accurate. So if any professional medical folks read this; cut me some slack...okay?

Moving on...I was in such a rut. I was like an airplane that taxied and never took off. I was like an astronaut who accidentally got locked out of her spacecraft...lost in space. I was like a run-down watch battery where the hands keep moving back and forth in the same place. Driving along in my mind and traveling the exact same routes over and over that went nowhere. Get the picture?

Then one day it hit me and I slammed on my mental brakes. When I came to a rubber-burning stop, I looked around my mental landscape and took it all in. Nothing seemed recognizable to me. My thoughts and my hopes and my dreams had all undergone a drastic change. In a way it was somewhat frightening because after all; these are the things that made me who I am, and if they have all changed then who am I now? What do I mean? I'm glad you asked that question!

I have always been a BIG dreamer. Dreaming and hoping...hoping and dreaming...my escapism. I have set goals for myself and developed ways to achieve them (well; maybe some of them if not all), and most of all I have taught myself to be grateful and to be happy in the meantime while God works out all of the small details of everything else. But somewhere along the road to fulfillment, my mind took a wrong turn on a side road. It must have happened during a temporary and brief moment when I was feeling a bit down. You see, it can happen precisely in this way. You can take a detour from your purposed road of travel onto some side trail and BOOM! In a second you're in foreign territory and if you continue down this side trail, pretty soon you're out and out LOST!

We have GPS and Navigators on our smart phones and in our car dashboards. Bet you didn't know that there is a GPS for our minds and hearts too. It's not called Global Positioning System but it's called God's Positioning System. It's the word of God! It's the scriptures that teach us, lead us, order us, and guide us. If we get off of our beaten track, they will turn us around and place us in the right direction and get us going again. If we find ourselves lost and afraid, we can turn to our spiritual GPS and voila...we are back on the road again. We are never truly alone as long as we carry God's word with us in our hearts.

So, I quickly made a u-turn and headed back to where I had come from. My GPS lead me back all the way. It was no trouble to find my way back. As I traveled along the road, I began to recognize familiar road signs. Each sign was a scripture verse put there to encourage me on my journey. Each one was a guide and a promise and an assurance from God. And probably one of the most important road signs I saw was the one that said "In this world there will be much tribulation. But; fear not for I have overcome the world".

And most of all what I discovered was a great big free benefit of using my GPS . Along with a lifetime free subscription was a free upgrade. I received this free gift simply by accepting it. Simply by saying "yes, I'll take it and thank you". Just like that I had become instantly improved from my old version that had the doubts and the negative thinking and no peace. Just like that I had been upgraded.

Just like that.

The Invisible Woman

2020-07-30T18:48:00.000-04:00

The invisible woman. Perhaps you have seen her. She is the middle-aged mature woman that shops at her neighborhood supermarket, worships in church on Sundays, browses through a local branch of the library and buys her clothes at several big name department stores. She comes and goes from her home to work, visiting friends and waves at her neighbors. Sometimes she gets the chance to spend quality time with her close family.

Her clothes are well-chosen and smart. Her appearance and grooming is always immaculate and stylish. Intelligent conversation and a quick wit spice up her personality. This woman is no slacker. She's always had an excellent work ethic and lives up to the highest of moral and ethical standards.

Well...here is a woman that should command a very high visibility judging from the descriptive paragraphs above. One would automatically assume that this particular woman would lead a busy social life and be a hip member of her in-crowd. Let me tell you that the case involved here is totally the oppposite.

For all intents and purposes, this woman may as well be invisible. All of the previously mentioned accolades and observations are true and accurate. But, in spite of all of the above, she is invisible to the opposite sex. That's right; men.

Some men that she encounters on a purely everyday situation such as in a supermarket, at the gas pump, in line at Starbucks, or in the waiting room of the mechanic while the oil is being changed in her car...will either avoid eye contact completely; or ignore her attempts at a simple smile and a friendly invitation to conversation.

She may be smiling just for the pure fun of it; because the weather is beautiful...or she feels special that day. She might want to strike up a conversation to pass the time. It's not an impossibility that she may be a people person and find it fun getting to know others. Every routine effort to be friendly is not...I repeat not an invitation to something else!

But...these days if any of the aforementioned scenarios take place, most men have either mumbled a few unintelligible words and made a hasty exit in the opposite direction, or ...(and this is one of her favorites) managed to bring up the fact that he is married in the second sentence of the conversation! Here's a for instance. She was outside her favorite supermarket one fine summer morning browsing and admiring the new array of bedding plants. There was a man nearby doing the same thing. He mentioned the marigolds to her first; noting how healthy and beautiful they were.

She agreed cheerfully (but not overly so...merely cordial) and threw in that she really liked the growth rate and the hardiness of marigolds. The next sentence out of his mouth was how his wife planted them every year. Where did that come from? Was she standing next to him? No. Was she waiting in the car watching his every move? No. He wanted to make it clear that he was off limits just in the off chance that she would come onto him.

Isn't that just sad...just pure pathetic? A woman cannot utter a complete sentence before a man thinks she's flirting! And please don't allow your eyes to wander in the direction of a man doing his own shopping. If you get too close to him, he'll bolt like a scared baby rabbit.

And her all time favorite is the conversation that a man will hold with who knows who to avoid the look or the slightest possibility that she may speak to him while standing in line anywhere. Suddenly, it is imperative that he makes a phone call that ends just as suddenly the moment he gets to the cashier to place his order! Then, he feels safe enough to tuck away his phone...place his order and busy himself with payment, etc. so he can make his escape as quick as possible.

What was once a perplexing enigma has now become a source of amusement for our sophisticated and savvy woman. She enjoys making a man feel uncomfortable in these situations, and feels that if he is unable to hold his own and not feel threatened by a person of her caliber, then that's his problem! No sweat off her nose. She smiles and laughs anyway and finds a great source of amusement in his dilemma.

So, our girl is slowly accepting of the fact that good, strong, confident men are a scarcity; especially in her age group. She is happy being who she is, living a good life and being her own person even if that life is independent of a special male relationship. Until he comes along (and he WILL come along one day) she is content in her own skin. Smiling, and taking care of business one day at a time and appreciating each and every one of the days she is blessed to live in.

Life...is good.

Joy and Pain

2020-05-18T12:00:00.000-04:00

Joy and Pain

In another hotel room across the hall from where the unholy tryst was taking place, sat three other people who had one thing in common. They were all interested parties in the goings-on between the woman and the man who were currently engaged in sexual acrobatics in the California style king-sized bed.

Margaret Claudette Richardson and Stanford Morris Clayton Jr., had more than enough space to do anything they wanted to do. She was lithe enough to be manipulated and he was strong and virile enough to handle her mature lovemaking. As perverted as it may have seemed, it was indeed a great match because they fit together like pieces of a perfectly constructed puzzle.

But there was another scenario being played out in the room across the hall, and neither one of the lovers were aware that the other was being twice duped. In other words, Stanford Jr., did not know that he was being used as a means to get back at his own mother, and Claudette had no idea that one of the reasons he'd been so readily agreeable to their union was because he himself was a pawn in someone's else's game. He was being maneuvered by the master game player in a match for retaliation against his own father.

Let me explain. Some time ago, Helena Clayton was involved in a brief affair with a man named Griffin McCoy. At the time of the affair, Griffin was separated (but not divorced) from his wife Honor. The affair between Griffin and Helena lasted only a couple of months, but it was long enough for Griffin to fall in love with her. Griffin already had a grudge against Stanford Clayton that was the result of an encounter on the golf course. He had hoped that one day he could get his revenge. Initially, he began to come onto Helena (when she brought her Audi into the dealership for servicing) as a way to get his payback; but he had not counted on having real feelings for her.

Then, her husband found out, and beat her up badly. Griffin vowed revenge against him again for another reason...the violence against the woman he loved, and for being pathetic enough afterwards that she took him back. Honor McCoy wanted her own opportunity for getting satisfaction against Helena Clayton. And to have Helena's only male child having an affair with one of her own best friends was simply too delicious to pass up! But...how did she manage to finagle Stanford Jr., into the situation?

It's like this you see. Claudette hatched the master plan in her own sick mind. She approached Stanford one night at one of his local hangouts. She was able to persuade him easily enough into agreeing to sleep together because as part of his nature; he is like a dog in heat when it comes to sexy women, and let's face it...Claudette is one sexy gal. Okay...now Honor just happened to witness Claudette and Stanford together that night, and when she saw Claudette's hand coyly come to rest on Stanford's thigh, she immediately became suspicious. So, while they were in deep conversation and ignorant of being watched, she slipped into the booth behind them where she could comfortably eavesdrop.

She heard enough to know when and where they were planning to meet. She then contacted Griffin, brought him up to speed, and Griffin made a phone call of his own to the third interested party; a young woman by the name of Goddess Blessing. Honor had met Goddess when she had come into her boutique to shop. It seemed as if the woman had a bottomless purse. She spent a great deal of money and brought along several friends and her sisters who had limitless funds as well. Honor and Goddess became personal friends, and Honor's revenue from her shop skyrocketed to the top.

It turned out that Goddess was from a very, very rich old southern family who were the descendants of a prominent family who were pioneers in the mercantile business. She lived on a huge trust that had been left to her and her sisters from somebody that had died a long time ago. She and her sisters lived a for real jet set lifestyle and were used to having only the best in life as well as having their own way. Goddess was the last woman that had been jilted by our young buck, and was more than willing to take part in the plot. Now...admittedly...Goddess was partly responsible for the breakup, but hey; what can I say? A woman scorned...a rose by any other name...right?

So, Goddess was best friends with the woman who was head of HR for this hotel, and it was no problem for her to gain access to the room and provide a setup for the three partners in crime to do their thing.

Stay tuned next week to find out more about the goings on in the room across the hall, and more about what they plan to do with what they have witnessed.

Don't miss it!!

I've Got Dreams to Remember

2020-04-01T19:50:00.000-04:00

When is it acceptable to stop...look...and listen to your heart and hear what its saying to you about your life? Is it before you realize that your dreams are just that; dreams that are fragile imaginings, or is it when you are facing the brick wall of realization?

How do you finally say "good-bye" to your precious dreams? How and when do you decide to carefully wrap them up and tuck them away in the farthest corners of your heart and the deepest recesses of your mind where they will forever reside? And...how do you face the reality that they will never come true and you have to go on with life minus the sustaining hope that someday your dreams will be fulfilled. Well, I guess that just depends on several factors. These factors include personal perspectives, goals, POA's (Points of views), definitions and how long and what lengths are involved, that someone is willing and able to incorporate to chase the dream. Or to be willing to separate dreams of possibilities from visions of fantasies.

Now, I want to present this outlook from my own personal POA, and discuss my dreams. A couple of years ago I began to nurture my dream of becoming a published author and I entertained the possibilities of becoming famous for my books. Well, part of this dream became true; I did become a published author. But, it was not like I had imagined it would be. I did not receive an offer of a contract and a big fat advance check from a publisher because they were excited about my book. I did however receive two offers of a contract from two different publishing houses, BUT...although they would be footing the cost for actual publishing my book, I would have to pony up a considerable sum of money and pay for my own marketing. This was a condition of the offer of a contract.

Since I did not have $4k, I had to pass on their offer. I went instead the "indie" route and used a self-publishing company. My book is in print, and it is for sale, and I have sold a good number of copies. That's a part of the dream. Here is the tough part. Self-marketing is hard. Very hard. You have to stay on top of it and do something nearly every day to keep your book title in front of people. It involves selling yourself as well. And guess what? People will get tired of that real quick. Oh sure, in the beginning there will be a number of supporters who will cheer you on and will buy your book.

There's the endless cycle of preparation and execution of marketing and promotion. Book trailer, book launching, invitations, brochures, and of course the actual hard selling of the book!

But after a while the hype wears off and when you continue to advertise your book you are greeted by a wall of silence. Every once in a while, you will get the occasional buyer. But bottom line is without people who will work along with you tirelessly, or the money to hire a PR agent...this is what you can expect.

Next came the dream idea of developing a web show with the central character being the grandmothers from my blog. I wanted to hire a professional video producer and a cast. I actually I took a crash course in script writing, wrote a script and had it registered with the Writers Guild of America. My web series would go viral and I would become super rich!

Then,there was the dream that I had of becoming a reality television script writer. I was going to turn my blog into a reality show that a producer would grab up and sell to a network and I would become an instant success. I was pumped up, excited and knew for sure that I could do what hundreds of other people did...and create a show that would be watched by millions and become an over nite sensation. After all; others did it all the time and look at their success, right? How hard could it be to get it done? Surely my ideas were every bit as marketable as what's on television today?

Well I got a rude awakening. I discovered that I could not write a proper script, and that my premise was not in line with what folks wanted to see on television. The big deal breaker was when I was told that Charlotte was not a large enough city where The Real Grandmothers could fly. It was with this remark that I packed away all of my paperwork, took down my cork board, rolled up my poster story boards...the whole shebang and hid them from my line of vision. Overnight, my office went from an overflowing mess to pristine perfection without the stuff around that my dreams were made of.

I guess what hurt the most was the lack of interest and encouragement that I had expected from people who I thought would have been in my corner. Instead I received cursory second hand, lukewarm congratulations, but no offers to buy a copy of my book. Then, there were a few who had said during the video promotion that they couldn't wait to buy a copy, yet when I sent out invitations to my launch...nothing.

So, although I encourage each of you who has a dream of becoming a published author to get out there and pursue it with vigor, just be sure you have a very thick skin. No one will ever be able to appreciate your work as much as you do. It will never read as well to anyone else as it does to you. Try it anyway. You may end up being one of the lucky ones. All I ask is that when you hit the big time...dream a little dream of me.

A Thin Line Between Love and Hate

2020-03-27T16:12:00.002-04:00

Friends. Everyone needs them, and they can add so much to a person's life...support, encouragement, love, fun and a shoulder to cry on. Friends can do so much with so little; just by saying "I'm here for you". They can cheer us on when we feel like giving up and they can pull us up when the stuff of life drags us down. We trust them with our spare keys, our garage openers, our children, our secrets and our home security codes.

But sadly, there is too often a darker side to some friendships. Sometimes a person will cross over the line and breach that trust and that unity that we take for granted. Sometimes the reasons are obvious; then again they are obscured from view and from understanding.

The very best of friends have occasion over the course of time to disagree and actually argue about differences of opinions and other things. They have "falling outs" among them. The good news is that more often than not these disagreements are proceeded by a reconciliation with no residual hard feelings and life goes on.

Not so in the case of the "falling out" between two of the Grandmother friends. After all is said and done, one of them will decide not to forgive or forget and will harbor ill feelings that quickly escalate into something ugly and potentially dangerous. One will be the perpetrator and one will be the immediate victim; but the bond of sisterhood that previously existed between all four Grandmothers will have suffer serious fallout.

Will they choose up sides like children in a playground fight? Will this be the beginning of the end of the twenty-five year friendship? Will there much finger-pointing and accusations?

It's a "thin line between love and hate", and that's not only for love affairs gone wrong either. Many believe that the opposite of love is not hate but indifference. That indifference can become a deadly accessory when used as an insulator for a cold and uncaring heart.

Betrayal and Revenge

2020-03-25T19:59:00.000-04:00

We've all heard these words before..."To err is human, and to forgive is divine". And these words could hold as much truth as they do wisdom. But, they could also be easier said than done especially when the person on the receiving end of the natural side of the forgiveness is one of your best friends. Treasured and loved like a sister.

Revenge is sweet. Revenge is a dish best served cold. "Revenge is mine"...saith the Lord. But when you're on the receiving end of the betrayal...it's easier said than done.

What happens when friendship turns sour? What events can make a tried, tested and true friend become a turncoat? How do best friends cope with betrayal from one of their own?

We'll see just what has gone down between two of the best friends in The Real Grandmothers of Charlotte, and what the resulting repercussions of the foursome's friendship are along with the effects they will all have to learn to live with.

It's time to keep it real.

It's An Elementary Murder, Holmes

2020-02-10T17:29:00.000-05:00

The police had been to question her, or perhaps she should call them precisely what they are; Homicide Detectives. Although she was very sure that they would come, and that it was certainly a routine part of any murder investigation; to question everyone that could even be remotely involved or would have any information relative to the investigation. But, she had to admit that they certainly did not waste any time coming round to see her. Alexis had maintained her calm and answered their questions with an honest clarity. She simply told them what she herself had been told by Abigail Vanderberry during that life-changing phone call yesterday. Really? Was it only yesterday that all of this had happened?

Yes, it was only yesterday as far as her part in this was concerned, but the murder of Bryce Meyers had taken place two days ago. Forty eight hours from meeting his bride-soon-to-become-his-wife at the altar, forty year old Bryce Alexander Meyers had been been the victim of a fatal close-up gunshot to the heart, dealt him by that same bride-soon-to-become-his-wife.

Alexis had met Bryce on several occasions when he and Abigail had come to her office to discuss and finalize the wedding/honeymoon plans that required them to make decisions as a couple. He made a good impression on Alexis; not because of his deep pockets, but because he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He wasn't an in-your-face type of guy. He was sort of quiet with impeccable manners and a soothing persona. Physically, he was tall and just average looking. He wasn't a very handsome guy, but he definitely possessed a confidence that was attractive in itself, and he had a strong magnetism about him that was almost palpable. He had never given Alexis any hint of a dishonest streak. This is exactly what she had told the two officers who had come to question her.

Detectives Mercer Holding and Artie Callahan had looked at her and then at each other with a smugness that bordered on arrogance. They were already to wrap this case up and charge Abigail with first degree murder. Detective Holding had snapped her laptop closed with a finality that she expressed in words as she stood to leave. She had said that it was probably an open-and-shut case, and as she looked to her partner for confirmation, she made the remark, " It's an elementary murder, my Mr. Holmes!" Detective Callahan nodded in agreement. He then added that "We have got your client, Abigail Vanderberry dead to rights. We've even got the smoking gun." I swear they both laughed as they prepared to leave.

Their enthusiasm seemed to be out of place and their eager-beaver attitude to see Abby behind bars was almost obscene. No matter the circumstances, a man was dead. He had family who loved him, ...and oh mercy...his poor mother! This was the first time Alexis had thought about his mother. Megan Meyers must be beside herself with grief. There was no imagining the anguish she must be feeling; the helplessness and the pain of knowing her son had been murdered.

Alexis had wished for the thousandth time that Abigail had told her more during that phone call. After Claudette had come over, and she had poured enough brandy down her throat to revive her into a semblance of reality, Alexis had tried to call Abigail back on both her cell and her land line phone. Of course there had been no answer on either, and surprisingly, the voice mail greetings had been erased. She had had no other chance to contact Abby, having seen news of her arrest on the morning news earlier today.

It appeared that the noise from the gunshot had been called in to 911 by an "anonymous" person who didn't wish to be identified, and when the police arrived they found Abby at the scene, sitting on the floor beside the body of the love of her life...her soul mate who was dead from the .9mm bullet that went straight through his heart.

She was still holding the gun in her hand. Sherlock and Holmes must have wet themselves with glee.

Sin and Redemption

2020-02-02T23:00:00.000-05:00

When the music has stopped playing, when daylight has replaced the night, when silence is all that can be heard and when there's no place left to hide...what remains is glaring reality. Revenge and its reverberating after shocks has been celebrated realized. The strange effects of a well-played and falsely gratifying act of betrayal has turned into a hollow victory that has left a sour taste and an empty feeling where the rhythm of a normal beating heart once was. Her world had shrunk down to the dimensions of her master suite from which she had left only a few times to make quick trips to the kitchen for coffee, and to answer the door to accept the pizza deliveries.

Claudette was completely alienated from her friends. What did she expect after all that she had done? But, you see therein lies the caveat. She didn't expect anything from them. She knew that her actions would alienate her from the women who had been her friends for twenty five years. At least one of them had probably been her true friend. There were others in Claudette's world who had been more than happy to report back to her about the overheard conversations, and snide remarks whispered behind closed doors that they had covertly been privy to. These fair weather friends had gleefully attached themselves to her and behaved as if they were doing her a favor by bringing her information. She truly regretted having to distance herself from Bonnie though, but there was no help for it. Her friendship with Bonnie ended up as collateral damage.

As far as Alexis was concerned, she was fully aware that they only tolerated each other for the sake of appearances, and although Claudette didn't exactly dislike Alexis, there was definitely no love lost between them either. and she fully realized that by sleeping with Stanford Jr., she had crossed all lines and had broken so many trusts that now as she resided in her own private hell, all shreds of self respect and common decency had disappeared.

It had been a full week since the last part of the destructive plan had been played out. She had been sure that her absence wouldn't take long to detect when she had slipped away from Bonnie's house. To make things seem normal and not to arouse suspicion too early, she had followed the crowd down to the garden where the main party event was being held, carefully being nonchalant and chatty as they strolled across the lavish lawn where so many people were mingling, eating and drinking gaily. No one had an inkling of what was to come.

Honor's arrival with Goddess and her sidekick was precisely timed. Claudette had stood behind Alexis and watched the planned scene unfold until the predetermined moment arrived for her to slip away unnoticed was when Helena had everyone's attention and was acting out her part just as if she was on a Broadway stage that Claudette silently turned and walked away; weaving through the crowd that had gathered to watch the drama.

She had gone straight to her home, and gone underground. Fortunately for her, La Monica (her youngest daughter) was to be away for two weeks, making it easy for Claudette to seclude herself without having to make any conversation or explanations for the recent tragedy of events. Now that the week was coming to a close, she'd had an excess of time to gloat, to pat herself on the back, to try and reassure herself that what she did was justifiable, and now that she had run the gamut of celbratory self denial, other feelings were creeping in her subconscious.

These feelings were jockeying for first place in her mind. They wanted to be prominent and upstage the previous feelings she'd managed to enjoy for a few days. The fact that she'd feel victorious and jubilant when Helena finally got what was coming to her was the only thing that spurred her on to see this malevolent plot through to the finish. In her twisted mind, Helena had become the enemy that must be dealt with, in the most harshest way possible.

Well, it had worked out precisely the way she and Honor had visualized and planned for. The look of absolute shock followed immediately by a look of so much hurt and disbelief that had shown on Helena's face was tragic. Claudette had felt exulted when she first watched these emotions play across her former friend's face. That same exultation had sustained her for three days. But when she woke up this morning from a night filled with bad dreams and plagued with horrible images of Satan and hell fire, she began to feel regret and remorse. She realized with a heavy thudding of her heart that she would no longer be able to keep these self-recriminations at bay. They were about to surface in a thundering second act.

Everywhere she looked she saw shapeless images that played a stealthy game with her; advancing and retreating. She had begun to hear noises and strange sounds. She had begun to be wary of the shadows in the corner of her room, where she saw the accusatory faces of her friends. She could still smell the cloying odor of the sex she'd had with Helena's son. She saw his unsuspecting face when she looked in the mirror.

Redemption. Is that what she needed? Would she ever find it? Did she deserve it? So many questions; she felt as if her brain would explode. Collateral damage, sinner, whore, slut, sin...the awful stench of what she had done was overpowering her. What would she do and where could she turn?

Risky Business

2020-01-26T20:03:00.000-05:00

They were both aware of the risk involved here, and it didn't make any difference at all. Not to either one of them. Actually, the atmosphere was charged with electricity generated from the dangerous setting. The very real chance of being discovered in a "compromising" position. What a pun! It could be labeled "compromising" because of the position she found herself in while trying to please her lover. Both of them had been anticipating being together for weeks; just waiting for the right moment.

He'd challenged her to try something new, and she had seen his challenge and raised her own; therefore adeptly calling his bluff. This girl was on fire! And this man was definitely hot, amazingly seductive, and was a seasoned and well-traveled globe trotter. When he had suggested that she come up to visit him for the weekend, she had laughed at him. He lived in another city about ninety miles away. His wife had been away for several days and was not due to return home for another four days. He invited her to spend Friday and Saturday with him. Alexis thought that his invitation was a joke, but when he extended the invite to include bunking at his house she was speechless. When she realized that he was serious, her response to him was " Hell to da nah! You've lost your mind, white boy!". Even as she said the words, she was secretly flattered that he was willing to take this chance.

But he was indeed serious. And she was indeed horny as hell, and wanted to be with him enough to be willing to take that risk. He assured her that his wife would not be returning until Sunday night. Alexis teased him by saying that she was afraid his wife would come back in the middle of the night and stab her in her sleep. She laughingly told him that she was "too pretty to get stabbed"; in her sleep or otherwise. Her protests were made half-heartedly though. Truth was she wanted to sleep with him, wanted to experience what it would be like with him after weeks spent in sexual wordplay and exchange of sexual innuendo, and so she shrugged off all of her second thoughts.

She went shopping at Nordstrom's and bought a couple of sexy lingerie sets, some new cologne and a few other necessities that would come in handy during a passion filled night of ecstasy, packed them all in her Michael Kors overnight bag and locked away her conscience when she locked the door to her house. Climbing behind the wheel of her black Volvo SUV, she decided then and there that she would save the self-recriminations and reprimands for a few days from now. For the present, she would be totally in the moment, and she intended to give as good as she knew she'd receive.

Cruising down the highway, she felt 'alive' and young! She felt beautiful and sexy and so excited about finding him waiting for her. She would not be disappointed. The directions he'd given her to his house located in a secluded, wooded section were on point. No one saw her enter the private entrance. She found it with no trouble at all, and she pulled into the gravel driveway exactly ninety minutes later. She parked and got out, retrieving her purse and overnight bag from the backseat of the SUV, and started toward the house. He opened the door as she approached, and stepped outside on the porch to greet her.

As she stepped up on the porch, he reached out and grabbed her; pulling her in and squeezing her so tight she could hardly breathe. He took her bag and her purse, placed them on a porch chair, and welcomed her with a kiss that went so deep and felt so good she thought her legs might give way and she'd fall to the ground. He was so tall, and so strong! His pictures had not done him justice. Oh yea...he was glad to see her alright. And the evidence of it was presenting itself against her stomach.

He smiled down at her, and the world turned Topsy-turvy. Her knees were indeed weak, but his arms around her waist steadied her and kept her upright. He gathered up her things and guided her inside the cool, dimly lit entryway and then slowly they walked into a huge and well-decorated family room. He stopped and turned her to face him. Tilting her face up to him, he looked her square in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Alexis? Because as much as I want you, I'm giving you a chance to change your mind, and walk away with no hard feelings. Really, shugg...if you want to change your mind, now is the time. Later on will be too late".

He smelt soo good! He looked good and he felt even better than good. No way was she giving this up. "No. I'm good. I'm staying Nilla Wafer.". That sealed the deal, and the night began...

Walk on By...

2019-12-28T08:20:00.000-05:00

She stared down at the book in her lap, unseeing and having her mind going at breakneck speed in twenty different directions. She may as well have been carved out of stone because her body was as rigid and as still as a statue. The page in the book she held had not been turned for a time. Was it only yesterday that this book had held such interest for her? It was picked up and then opened to the bookmarked page all out of an automatic reflex to touch something...do something that would keep her mind from spinning out of control. Speaking out loud to the empty room as she stumbled about...nearly losing her balance trying to find her way in the dark, she was grasping at anything to make her forget if only for a while.

The pain had to be dulled. If it didn't surely she would die. She almost wanted to die. There were still a few Xanax left in the bottle, and if not her script was good for a refill. One refill would do it if it came to that. All of these disconnected and jumbled thoughts vied for attention in her mind as the old throwback soul ballad "Walk On By" sung by Dionne Warwick played on a loop in the background. Unaware that she was doing so, she began a pitiful rendition of the song, singing in an off- key barely above a whisper voice. "If you see me walking down the street...and I start to cry each time we meet...walk on by...walk on by. Foolish pride...that's all I have left so let me hide...the tears and the sadness you gave me when you said goodbye". Empty, unseeing eyes and an invasive cold vise squeezing her bruised heart, stripped of pride...all of them the products of a shattered dream...this was the picture she made.

She did not want to think or to feel any emotions right now. Nothing at all. She willed her mind to become blank and for the most part it was starting to happen, but lingering on the fringes was the bitter regret she felt because of her recent actions. Although the longed for relief of a blanked out mind was welcome to her, she had no doubts about the guilt that was even now festering away at her soul and would come soon enough at her in a full body slam.

It had not gone well between her and him. It was nothing at all the way she had dreamed it would be. For many nights she had lain awake or been awakened from the little sleep she managed to get with thoughts of the two of them spinning around and around in her head. Pushing out any other everyday mundane thoughts until they dominated all logical reasoning and she was drowning in her desire for him. Spiraling down deeper and deeper into a personal hell where she may never climb out of.

This should not have happened. None of this was right; it was all wrong. He'd made promises to her and he'd given her his word that she was the woman for him, and that it didn't matter not one whit to him what others may think or say. He was in love with her. He SAID...he PROMISED!! Oh my God...what am I going to do? A feeble part of her asked this question while almost simultaneously the tiny remaining cognizant corner of her psychosis ridden mind chastised and reminded her that the loving, kind and perfect God she had once served would not be listening to her.

Then, almost as if a high wattage jolt had hit her body, she jerked herself upright, and immediately snapped out of her pathetic reverie. What had suddenly occurred to her was a frightening...yet oddly comforting thought. REVENGE! She convinced herself that she didn't have to take this treatment form any man...didn't have to roll over and play dead like a trained dog. She'd been hurt, scorned, used and left for dead, but oh no! Ain't nobody got time for that! She'd pay him back and she'd do it good...real good.

What are your thoughts and comments? Next week...the Big Reveal and the identity of the characters will be unveiled!! Be sure to come back.

The Last Stand

2013-07-01T14:25:00.001-04:00

All idle conversation and chit chat had come to an abrupt halt; partly due to the intervention of Bennett Lowery, Sr. with the uninvited entourage. The other part was due to the curiosity from the invited guests as they gathered closer to the group in focus, and waited to see how the scene would play out. Bonnie and her daughter and son-in-law stood together off to the side of the group, but close enough to see what was going on. Her son Bennett Jr., was by his father's side, who was standing almost toe-to-toe with Honor McCoy. None of the women in this foursome had shown the slightest inclination that they had weapons of any kind in their possession, but they were a pack of crazies, and one could never tell what a single crazy might do...much less four of them put together.

Honor was not to be intimidated. She appeared unaffected by the two big and tall men standing in front of her, and actually seemed to relish the attention and the thrill of this sick game she was playing. The sardonic smile on her beautiful face was tinged with an ever so slight bit of evil, and her body language was relaxed. She looked Bennett square in the face without flinching. When she spoke to him, she never looked away, and she leaned forward into him, took hold of his tie and her voice was sultry as she said, "Now, Bennett; it would be ever so rude of me to leave without completing my task. After all, I'm obliged to another...acquaintance to do that. My reason for being here is to pass along this special delivery gift". She held up the small box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a white ribbon. "And just as soon as I take care of that obligation my friends (she looked over her shoulder at Goddess and the other two women behind her) shall gladly take our leave. So, if you would please be a dear and step aside, I'd like to speak with Helena. " She lowered her eyes and in a flirtatious and pouty manner, she added, "Pretty please?"

It wasn't clear to Bennett if she was boosted by the false courage because she was half drunk, or if she was really as brazen as she seemed to be. Either way, he was determined to oust her and the three unwelcome hussies with her. The longer he looked at her, and considered what emotional upheaval this ridiculousness was causing Bonnie and his daughter, the more he wanted to feel his hands around her throat. But...he maintained his composure and settled for strangling the life out of her in his imagination.

Bennett Jr., placed his hand on his father's arm, and said to him, "Dad...let her do what she came here to do, and let them leave. What harm can it do? Just let her get on with it and get out of here". Bennett took a deep breath, slowly nodded agreement with his son and got up in Honor's face for a last stand. " You give that box to Helena, then I want all four of you bitches to get the hell off of this property. And don't any of you EVER set a foot back here again. Or you'll answer to me and it won't be pretty...I can promise you that. Do you understand...you trashy ignorant bitch?" To this, Honor responded with a nod and a surprising display of dignity with an 'of course'.

She turned and walked the few steps to where Stanford stood with a protective arm around Helena's shoulder. When Honor moved, so did her posse. They were standing close behind her. Honor stretched out her hand and offered the box to Helena. "This is for you. And I want to add that I believe people get what they deserve in this life; and you certainly deserve this small token of...well...you'll see and whether you want to or not; you'll understand". She waved her posse forward with a slender and elegant hand, and looked around at the entire assembly of guests and said aloud for them all to hear, "My friends and I will be true to my word and take our leave now. Goodbye all...please resume your partying! Smooches!" And just like that, with finger waves and air kisses, they trailed off, leaving behind them a cloud of suspicion.

Stanford turned his wife toward him and tilted her chin up so that he could look into her face. He told her that she didn't have to open the box. She could just toss it away in the trash, and forget that those women had even been there. Bonnie and Alexis walked over to them and Alexis agreed with Stanford. Both Alexis and Bonnie stood on either side of their friend and expressed their concern for her. Once again, Claudette's absence was noticed. Kaycee took hold of her Mom's hand and asked about her friend. "Mom, what happened to Claudette? Where did she go?". "I...I...don't know honey. She was here...I'm not sure where she went. I kind of lost track of her when the commotion started." Bonnie was craning her neck trying to see over heads in front of her, and scanning the crowd looking for a sign of Claudette. " I'm just not sure!" She sighed and placed a hand to her head.

"Come on Mom, you need a good stiff brandy and then you need to take a seat in the house and calm down. Come on Mom...let me take you inside." Her handsome son Bennett was taking charge. And she didn't protest, but allowed him to lead her across the lawn toward the house. It felt good to lean on him and have him take charge of her. She smiled up at him, and told him how much she loved him. In return, he kissed the top of her gorgeous silver spiky hair, and told her he loved her back. Just as they had gotten halfway across the expanse of meticulously manicured lawn, a scream split the air. Both Bonnie and Bennett Jr., turned and started to run back to where the crowd was gathering again for the second time that day.

They reached the small group of friends just in time to see Helena fall to the ground in a dead faint, and Alexis bent to pick up the contents from the small box spilled on the ground. Stanford was yelling for people to move back and give his wife some room and Alexis was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at what she held in her hand. The item she held, as well as those still lying on the ground were marked with tags that identified what they were. Alexis was stunned as she held a filmy undergarment in her hand. Bonnie asked her even as she looked at it for herself what it was she was holding, but the tag stood out with the name of the person to whom they belonged written in bold marker, and these tags had a very familiar name written on each one of them.

Bonnie dropped to her knees sobbing "Oh, dear God...no!" The minute Helena had hit the ground, Devan's Mom; a retired nurse rushed forward to help Stanford. They were trying to revive Helena. Alexis simply stood staring out at nothing in particular. Kaycee, her husband Devan and Bennett Jr., were trying as cordially and as quickly as they could to get the guests to leave since clearly the party was over now. Bennett Sr., squatted down on his haunches and was picking up the items one by one from the ground and cursing up a storm as he inspected each one in turn.

And for the third time in less than two hours, Claudette's absence was noticed, but now it was understood why.

It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

2013-06-21T07:16:00.001-04:00

It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

It was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and lavish Christening parties ever given when the guest of honor is just shy of being six months old. Bonnie had spared no expense to create a memorable and enjoyable event that marked the very first milestone of her newest grand baby's life. Little Miss Sterling Mackenzie Devine had no clue about what was going on around her, but she was the center of attention. Dressed all in white from the frilly lace and satin bonnet she wore on her curly head, and the long white silk organza Christening gown to the tiny white satin ballet shoes on her feet, she was a chubby bundle of beauty and truly she was her Nana's Princess.

Alexis, Helena and Claudette were among the elite gathering of guests. They mingled in with family members because Bonnie considered them as such. And of course the invitations had been extended in a wide circle encompassing as many of the extended family members as was feasible. Intimately, the family members present were of course; the Devine parents (Kaycee and ) The Devine grandparents ( Bernadette and Alfred) and we can't leave out the Big Sister Jillian Marie Deacon (who was taking her new role as big sister quite seriously), the proud Pop-Pop Alexander Shipp (Kaycee's Dad and Bonnie's first ex-husband), Bennett Lowery, Jr. (Kaycee's half brother by Bonnie's second husband) along with his wife and kids...and of course the hostess with the mostest...Bonnie.

Her back yard had been decorated with two huge white tents, and the gardener had placed mammoth sized tubs filled to overflowing with assorted spring flowers with blooms as big as a woman's hand. There were tubs filled with petunias, bluebells, geraniums and hybrid impatiens. These provided the perfect touch to the gorgeous hibiscus and azaleas that already adorned the landscape. It was a veritable explosion of color!

One tent held two long serving tables covered in white linen cloths, laden with food on one and china and place settings on the other. The guests filed through the buffet line here and then took their filled plates to the second tent where there were about twenty round tables set up, each one covered in a while linen cloth with linen napkins in the alternating colors of the theme chosen by Bonnie. Several uniformed waiters cruised through with various cold beverages for the guests ranging from champagne to iced tea and lemonade.Soft jazz and easy listening music piped through the outdoor speakers connected to the house's surround sound. It had been a lovely service and it was now a perfect afternoon. Until.

An uninvited and unexpected group of four loud-talking women made an appearance. They rounded the corner of the immaculately groomed yard from the driveway side, and from the entrance they made, it was obvious they'd already been dipping in the sauce quite a bit. They were talking and laughing so loud it was attracting the attention of the guests. Suddenly there was a crash followed by several voices raised in anger. Bonnie paused in her circulation among her guests, and went to investigate to see what the commotion was all about.

She followed the raised voices into the first tent, and when she entered she immediately came up short at what she saw. She recognized two of the women. One of them was Honor McCoy (and if ever there was a misnomer it was in her name), and the other was Goddess Blessing. Bonnie assumed that the women standing close to Goddess were part of the entourage she seemed to constantly have with her.

Goddess Blessing was standing there in front of the portable bubbling fountain and her thin white gauzy dress was soaked through. What was more shocking to see was that it clung to her body, outlining it to clearly show she wore no bra and no panties. Her breasts were showing through the bodice of her wet dress, and the shadow of her vagina could easily be seen as the wet material stuck to her lower body. The scarf she wore was wrapped around her waist like a sash. Bonnie gasped and walked over to where the troublesome intruders stood. Honor made to apologize for her friend, but it was all too clear that she was merely being facetious, and totally insincere. Goddess said nothing but continued to stand there in a provocative pose while the other two women giggled like silly schoolgirls. Bonnie's first thought was that they were all high on something; including Honor.

Then, Bonnie asked them what happened in a voice so tight, she thought her jaw would break. Goddess laughingly gave the account that she had leaned over the fountain to dip her scarf in the water in hopes of removing a tiny wine spot when she lost her balance and tumbled in. Her untimely dip into the fountain had surprised one of the waiters as he was passing by, and he dropped his tray of drinks. This had a domino effect on the waitress who was coming up behind him with her own tray of drinks and subsequently dropped hers. That caused the loud crash.

Bonnie's ex-husband Bennett Lowery Sr., walked in at that moment along with Alexis, Helena and Claudette. They were followed by a small group of onlookers. Bennett proceeded to remind them that none of them were on the guest list and that this was a private party. He asked them politely to leave the premises immediately so he did not have to call the police and have them force-ably removed. Honor sauntered up to Bennett, pretended to adjust his tie and said in a slow and sultry voice that they had a special package for a special friend and they would leave when they had delivered the special package to the special friend. Each time she said the word special, she leaned in closer to Bennett, and flicked imaginary pieces of lint from his shoulders and his sleeves. Bonnie stood by looking as if she'd burst into tears at any moment.

Bennett grabbed her by her arms and shoved her away from him, warning her to take her friends and go...right now. Honor stood back and drew herself up to her full height, assuming an air of superiority and pointedly looked at Helena saying that they'd come to see her and would be happy to leave as soon as their business was completed. No one noticed Claudette slipping away from the crowd. They were mesmerized by the goings on before them. Honor snapped her fingers without taking her eyes from Helena, and one of the women with them stepped forward with a small gift wrapped box.

She placed the box in Honor's outstretched hand.

Announcing Launch of Book Trailer on YouTube

2013-06-18T15:17:00.000-04:00

Dear Readers and Fans of The RGOC,

I am so very excited to announce the publication of my first YouTube video on the Wiladene Keen channel. It is a short (about 2:00) book trailer promoting the upcoming launch of my new book.

I am a novice, and I created it myself, but I do believe that it is quite good, and it says what I needed it to say, and hopefully will function as I need it to function (meaning draw viewers in and have them anticipate the release of the book!)

Attached is the link to the channel. Please take a look, and if the inclination moves you; please don't go without leaving a comment.

I will be back very soon with another post about those four awesome and "divalicious" ladies; The RGOC. I know you can't get enough of them so you won't have to wait too long!

See you soon.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiGz9Z3-A

Down the Rabbit Hole

2013-05-25T10:44:00.000-04:00

"There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about; and that is not being talked about"...Oscar Wilde

The sex had been fabulous and she was certain that both of them had experienced the ecstasy in equal shares. What had began as a calculated seduction had definitely ended up as an out- of- bounds sexual adventure where they had loosed all inhibitions and given themselves over to a night that saw its finale in the outrageous.

There had been no misconceptions of love or any other tender emotions. He was the dispenser and she was the receiver. At one point during the night their roles had reversed. She had pleasured him every bit as much as he did her, and each of them gave until there was nothing left. It had come to her as a wild and disconnected thought; but she remembered thinking how glad she was that she maintained her fit body by working out three times a week at her gym. While she had been aiming for a healthy long life span, she had no idea she would reap the other rewards that a fit and lithe body could provide. Although she was tired, her muscles did not ache and she was not sore from the rigorous sex. Truth was, she could have enjoyed a morning romp, but she did not want to wake Stanford and get him started all over again and the timing was not right.

There were two more remaining parts to her plan that had to be carried out. And she must keep moving and get them taken care of immediately...before she had time to think about what she had done and who she was doing it to. Of course Helena was her prime target, and initially; the thought of using her son to complete that revenge had been daunting but doable. Especially when she considered what was waiting for her at the end of this escapade.

As handsome, exciting and sexy as young Stanford Jr., is Claudette couldn't help but let herself imagine that she was with Griffin for a few moments. Both men were fine and sophisticated and dreamy hunks, but each in his own way. Griffin McCoy had that older, suave man of the world persona about him and he wore it well. His completely white head of hair and his confident manner; the way he wore his clothes...all of this only added to his sex appeal. Whereas Stanford was just beginning to realize his manliness, and that was a little endearing...but no! she could not nor would not dwell anything endearing! She still had work to do.

So she slipped out of bed, and gathered up her scattered clothing and shoes from around the room and quietly went into the huge bathroom to dress. How she would have loved to soak in this gorgeous bath tub! How she would have relished a slow and lazy 'morning after'; complete with breakfast in bed followed by more delicious loving. As she hurriedly redressed in last night's outfit (she must be gone before he wakes) she appeased herself with the thought that she'd get Griffin to bring her back here when they got together. Then, it would be all she'd want...and more.

She had promised to meet Honor downstairs in the coffee shop. The text message Honor had sent her very early this morning indicated that she was to be there at nine sharp. Honor would have the photos of her and Stanford Jr., in their sex acts. The tiny hidden camera was supposed to have captured at least an hour's worth of activity. So, being conscious of this fact was one of the stimuli that had kept her going. She had no way of knowing which sixty minutes of her star performance was to be immortalized on film.

Next, Honor would see to it that the film reached Helena Clayton; probably by the end of the day or thereabouts. When the room got cleaned by housekeeping, a certain house keeping specialist would be sure to neatly bundle up the bed linen from their love bed, remove the hidden camera to wrap up with the linens, deliver this bundle to the third person in the partnership and that person would then add the bundle to the envelope with the photos and the third present in this surprise package (which she would be passing along to Honor this morning) which was the pair of panties she had tucked inside her purse just for this purpose.

If that didn't send Helena over the edge...what would?

Claudette finished dressing and tiptoed across the room toward the door. Stanford moaned a little in his sleep but continued snoring softly. His arms and legs were sprawled out under the tangled sheets. He was totally out of it thanks to the small amount of sedative she had added to his night cap. It was simply a bit of insurance to make sure he didn't wake up before she had s chance to escape. She took a moment's pause to stand over him; looking at him and briefly thought that he looked so peaceful and so handsome in his sleep. Quickly giving herself a second to feel regret, she hoped that someday he would be able to forgive her, and that he would not have too bad a headache from the sedative. She kissed the tips of her fingers and lightly touched them to his lips.

It was too late for her now. She was too far gone; she was already down the rabbit hole and almost mad as a hatter.

Family Ties

2013-05-06T06:50:00.001-04:00

Family Ties

So, while Claudette was occupied with her plans on destruction and mayhem aimed at her friends, they were going about their lives in a normal everyday fashion. They were busy with ordinary things, dealing with old family issues that had recently resurfaced, and simply "living" without a clue about what she was up to. Mainly because they hadn't gotten together as a group since the last time at Alexis' house when they planned this year's vacation getaway, and Claudette began to put her own plans in motion. That was several weeks ago.

Of course they had all spoke to each other several times a week since then, as was their custom. They were after all...best friends and that's what best friends do. Bonnie had dropped by one weekend to show off her new grand baby, and Alexis had met her for drinks one evening and they'd laughed and chatted about a shopping trip to buy a few new things for their trip. All of this took place as if nothing was amiss.

She had not purposefully avoided Helena, but it just turned out that they'd had minimal contact mostly because Helena was dealing with another of Myranda's crises. Which was fine with her. And Claudette had played her role to perfection; never once in the past several weeks had she let anything slip, or allowed her true feelings to surface while in their presence or talking on the phone. Her poker face was set, and to her friends (and her own family) she was nothing less than her usual self.

Bonnie Powell was still gaga over the birth of her newest grand baby. Her daughter Kaycee was exhibiting serious signs of postpartum depression but baby Sterling was flourishing as a newborn. This presented a whole new set of problems on the horizon that Bonnie would have to eventually deal with. Alexis Martin was now officially disentangled from the Vanderberry-Merrick murder case, and her entertainment/special occasion planning business was back on track after the hiccup it suffered from the murder case fallout. And Helena Clayton was preparing to go back into the courts for permanent custody of her grandchildren.

Although Myranda Rice (Helena's former drug addict daughter) was showing signs of remarkable progress in her twelve step program, she still had a long way to go. Helena and her husband were resolved not to allow Palmer Rice's parents/stepparents get custody of Sasha, Kirk and Trey. Both of Palmer's parents had remarried. Steve and Macey Palmer were living a laid back retired lifestyle and three young children did not fit into it. Linda (Palmer's mother) and her husband Barry Major still worked part time and lived a less than sedate lifestyle. They owned a business together that involved a lot of traveling and "entertaining" so neither did they seem a good choice for raising these kids.

But, all eight people were set on making it difficult and were not willing to concede to the other. There had been a lot of name calling,finger pointing and blame assignment from all sides. Financially, either couple could handle it. Everyone was prosperous and financially stable, but of course since Helena and Stanford were the maternal grandparent they automatically assumed they would be the beer suited. And since they also had the best legal connections; they'd probably assumed correct.

It would come down to that of course; the best legal team would win the case for custody. Sadly...no one of the eight adults pursuing this would be considering the children and what was best for them. It had already started out as a pissing contest, and it would end up an enormous ego trip for the "winning" couple and a tremendously tragic outcome for Sasha, Kirk and Trey Rice. No one thought about or considered for a hot minute that these precious children had already suffered enough. They had witnessed and stood by helplessly while their mother went through her own private hell.They had heard whispers about them as a family at school, and at friends houses during sleepovers.

Palmer, Myranda, Sasha, Kirk and Trey Rice. Happier times from the past.

Neither did these grown folks who all thought they knew what was best dream that children could perceive and understand more than they received credit for. It was all about them and in the end the children would be the biggest losers.

A Lowdown Dirty Shame

2013-04-29T20:00:00.000-04:00

"I can remember when I used to put the word 'Ms' in front of your name when I addressed you, Claudette."

"And I remember when you played your first junior high school football game, Stanford Jr."

These one-liners were their ice breakers as Stanford Clayton Jr., held the room door open and stood back to allow her to enter. Claudette was all 'easy breezy cover girl' as she swept passed him, and no one would have guessed that her insides felt like they were all twisted up together and her stomach was producing acid at an alarming rate. Add to that, her mind would not sit still; thoughts were gathering here and being scattered there. Most people would call this a very serious attack of conscience brought on by an acute case of guilt. Most people were not her; seriously focused and determined to see her plan through no matter what.

It had been a stroke of pure genius to develop and hatch her plot with Stanford Jr., as her victim. She had viewed it from a mother's perspective; knowing how much hurt it would bring on Helena to discover that her one and only handsome, precious, and pampered son had been defiled by a woman old enough to be his mother...worse still...one of his own mother's best friends. She had been so pleased with herself that after she had carefully mapped out her plan, she'd treated herself to a full day at the spa and a full body wrap to shrink her size 10 body down to a size 8 especially for tonight.

Not that she needed any extra work done because she had always been a natural beauty. Even at age fifty-something, she was still trim and firm with no sagging or loose skin. Her body was bikini ready and her legs showed not one single varicose vein. Her hair was lightly streaked throughout with a little gray, but she chose not to color it and tonight she wore it loosely falling across her face. The light streaks of gray actually enhanced her beauty and made her appear all the more sophisticated for it.

Yes, she was a beautiful woman but tonight she was no lady. She had mentally prepared herself for the role she'd play by listening to some throwback Denise LaSalle as she readied herself for her 'date'. Denise sang to her about being a 'lady in the streets and freaky in the bedroom', so tonight that would be her mantra.

She came in and took a seat on the couch, placing her designer tote bag on the floor next to her. She carefully crossed her legs causing her already short skirt to rise higher up to mid-thigh. Stanford offered to make her a drink from the well stocked bar and asked what was her preference.

" Vodka tonic with a slice of lime if you please". Man, she practically purred as she gave him her order. She reached down to slowly remove her high heels; one at a time drawing it out so he would be teased by the action. The couch where she sat was in his direct line of vision from where he stood mixing the drinks. Just as he brought the drinks for her and his also, she shifted and tucked her legs under...with a calculated hesitation that allowed him the slightest peek at what was under her dress, and what was not.

He sat down beside her and looked intently into her eyes as he almost casually began to stroke her thigh. Neither of them spoke. They leisurely drank from their glasses while exchanging deep soulful looks and realizing that this was a lead-in to foreplay. Never taking her eyes from his, Claudette stuck her forefinger into the liquid fire in her glass and brought it up to Stanford's lips. She slowly allowed traced the outline of his lips and then slipped her finger between them.

When both of their glasses were empty, he asked if she requested a refill. Declining his offer, she stood up and went to him saying, "I've had my thirst quenched. Now lets appease my appetite".

Stay tuned for next week's intensely hot post! What are your comments?

Three Faces in the Mirror

2013-04-23T16:35:00.002-04:00

Everything about this night had a surreal quality to it and strangely that served to only add to the heightened adventure of the night ahead. From the moment I left my house until the moment I had arrived at our previously agreed upon destination I had felt the detached reality of it all. I remember thinking that 'This was it. This was the point of no return'. Other ridiculous thoughts entered into my mind at that time; stuff that didn't make any sense at all. Random, disconnected thoughts like 'here is where the rubber hits the road' and 'if you had any sense at all...you'd run like the hounds of hell were on your heels.'

But I paid no heed to the last minute warnings and imaginary flashing caution lights in my head. Right...(no...there was nothing right about what I was going to do); so wrong or whatever...I was here I was going through with it and there was no turning back. I came to divide and conquer and that was just what I intended to do. There was one small pesky thought that had popped up in my mind just before I left home. I had finished dressing and was taking one last look at my makeup in the bathroom mirror, and as I started to turn away from the mirror something caused me to look back at my reflection.

I stood there and stared at myself for a moment and I did form a mental picture of myself...three pictures actually. I looked at myself as a warm and loving mother and grandmother, a helpful and pleasant co-worker and (this was the latest addition) a wanton and unscrupulous woman. The smile that I had on my face right then assured me that this was the most fun personality I had and I was certainly looking forward to my rendezvous and I was determined to squelch any feelings of trepidation or second thoughts.

My heart beat seemed to match the click of my high heels against the pavement as I walked across the hotel parking lot. Excitement and nervousness competed with each other inside of me. I felt so alive; more alive than I had felt in months! I was going to block everything else out of my mind and just allow myself to feel whatever he made me feel. I would not think I would only react. He would be the puppeteer and I would dance for him, and he could make me into whatever he needed me to be.

The closer I got to the entrance the more I detached from the person I normally am. The everyday...average nice person. I would be someone else tonight. I'd be a sexy, outrageous, hot and desirable woman. It had to be that way because it was all a part of the master plan for revenge. When he and I had first made our plans for our hook-up, I imagined I'd have to detach and zone out so I could be with him and not have him suspect that I was only going through the motions. But then, the more we talked about it and the more he convinced me he wanted to be with me the easier it became to truly want to be with him. The fact that I was going to bed with my friend's husband was the ultimate satisfaction, but the fun was going to be mine and a perk that turned out to fit the plan perfectly.

I was inside the lobby now, and heading toward the elevator. I got on as some other people got off
and pushed the button for the twenty-first floor, heading for room twenty-seven-twenty-two. There were no other patrons in the beautifully decorated hallway. The thick carpet muted my footsteps as I walked to my right and toward my destiny. There it was. And he was behind that door. Waiting for me. I'd gotten a call from him minutes after I'd left home and he took that opportunity to recount the things we would do when we got together.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly on the door. He opened it almost instantly. Smiling at me with that drop dead smile of his he stood there looking at me up and down like a hungry dog eyes a meaty bone.

"Hello Claudette".
"Hello Stanford".

"Come in"....

What are your thoughts and comments? Did you see that coming?

On the Road to Perdition...The Rescue

2013-04-01T21:11:00.003-04:00

Spirituality teaches believers that just before you hit rock bottom, and think that there is no help or alternatives left for you in this life...then a breakthrough is right around the corner. This may well be true, but try convincing a drug- addicted prostitute that it applies to her too. If she hasn't become totally devoid of hope or completely De-sensitized from living a life of decadence and depravity there might be a chance in hell she'll buy it. She might grab hold to the promise of these few powerful words and start to believe she can be rescued from perdition. And her soul could be saved even if her life has been destroyed.

Miracles still happen in this modern day world. Years later, Myranda Clayton Rice will stand in front of various groups of people and represent a miracle. She will be a living example of the power of salvation and the people who taught her how to live again as a whole, and as a well human being.
Justin Reid found Myranda lying in the doorway of a vacant Salvation Army store in a dangerous and run down part of the city. She was alone and totally zonked out from smoking crack-cocaine.

Her clothes were dirty and torn, and her body reeked of an awful pungent mixture of stale sex, cigarette smoke and plain old body odor. He could smell her from five feet away. She looked like she hadn't bathed in weeks, and at first he thought she was dead. He came closer and without touching her, he could hear her raspy gasps for breath and see the drool running out of her open mouth. His first thought was "pneumonia" if not worse. Under all of the filth and drool Justin could see soft feminine features and a face that had once probably been quite beautiful, but was now ravaged and hard.

Her feet were bare (she'd probably sold her shoes for a fix) and her long hair was a tangled matted mess. But despite this, there was a certain...presence about her. She had a presence and he looked forward to learning her story. Her breath was coming harder and raspier now, and her arms started flailing about almost involuntarily. She needed help and she need it now.

No use in trying to call 911 in this part of town. They would not respond anyway, so Justin pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number to his friend and partner Marcus Sisto. Five years ago, Justin himself had been in almost the same situation as this young woman lying here in this sad and pathetic condition. Marcus Sisto had rescued him. His wife Noelle ( who is lovingly called "Pink" by family and close friends) had taken him in, cleaned him up and gotten him into a comprehensive drug rehabilitation program that had worked.

Whenever he had wanted to give up or turn back to the streets, Pink would show him tough love and sit up with him til all hours of the morning talking and talking and talking...until his urges had subsided and he could once again function within his resolve. Marcus was a retired cop turned advocate turned father image. His gruff manner and street smarts coupled with a strange sort of compassion made him the ideal father figure to other guys like Justin. So many guys and women owed their lives to Marcus and Pink.

He had vowed when he became clean and sober that he would give back. So, it was part of his ritual to make his nightly rounds through this particular part of the city where he would most likely find someone in need. Here there were plenty of dark places to hide, and virtually no chance of being found until perhaps someone might pass by when daylight came. He dropped down on his haunches and looked at the woman closer while he was waiting for Noelle to show up. She'd told him that Marcus was in a counseling session with a potential suicide and that she'd be there as quick as she could get there.

The two of them would take her back to the six bedroom house that was co-owned by the three of them and another partner; Jeremiah Cummings. They provided a clean and safe place to the people they rescued until a place became available in a rehab center. Then, the person would have to enter of their own accord and 90% of the two hundred and thirty-five men and women they'd helped over the past three years did just that. The rest went out on their own thinking they could lick their addictions by themselves, and a small part of that ten percent had relatives or loving and supporting parents who reached out to them.

Because Justin fully believed in the good causes the Sistos and Jeremiah Cummings fought for, he had no compunction about investing his life savings into becoming a full partner with them. Each partner had invested a large portion of private funds, and they had been the beneficiary of a few endowments, but they always managed to keep up the Haven House with comfortable furnishings, plenty of food that Pink prepared all on her own mostly, and medical bill payments for those who needed immediate help.

The woman moaned a few times and screamed out loud. He bent over to her and tried to talk to her...to penetrate through the dense drug-induced fog in her mind. When he tried to touch her, she kicked him and tried to scramble away from him. With a harsh laugh, Justin could recognize these signs...she needed a fix ...bad. When she got up screaming and trying to run away, he actually tackled her to bring her down and he sat on her to keep her still. All the while he was talking to her telling her she'd be okay, she'd make it ; just calm down...calm down...calm down.

Whether there was something in his voice or divine intervention he did not know but grateful that she began to hear and listen to him. By the time Pink and Jeremiah drove up, the woman had become limp in his arms and her screams had subsided to pitiful whimpers. He was rocking her in his arms. He was thinking about how this one seemed different from others, how he felt a strange unexplained tenderness toward her already. He held her close and whispered for her to hold on; that help had come.

On the Road to Perdition...Part One

2013-03-15T17:57:00.000-04:00

Myranda Clayton Rice felt and looked the worse for wear. She had been out fall night partying with some people she was friendly with because she certainly could not call them friends. The word 'friend' in its definitive term did not factor into her vocabulary because truthfully she did not know of one single solitary soul she could pin the word to. At the ripe old age of thirty-eight, she had very little to show for her life on this earth. So very different from her la-DE-da younger sister Regina, or her bourgeois older brother Stanford Jr.

Her life had been on a steady downward spiral for the past two years. And typical of people with her particular brand of personality and who possessed the long list of disorders that she did always put the blame on others. They did not take responsibility for their own actions and out of an exaggerated sense of entitlement never failed to see their wrongs as a conspiracy against them. The world was to blame and all of the more fortunate folks in it had conspired to hold her and those like her who were down on their luck back from achieving any kind of a better life.

Why should she have it so hard? Ever since that bastard Palmer got into trouble and went to prison she had not been the same. Sure, she realized that she had some problems...who wouldn't have after going through what she went through? Losing her financial freedom, losing her husband (who she discovered was a liar, a cheat and on the down-low as well to add insult to injury) and most of all having to leave her own children. While she was in rehab the first time right after all this happened, her parents took the kids to care for. They didn't exactly turn them against her, but when she got out and tried to put her life back together, they acted like she was a stranger. That hurt like hell.

The men and women with whom she caroused the night away with were a rag tag collection of losers made up of druggies, prostitutes and some cons on the run from the law. She didn't care anything about their backgrounds. All she cared about was where and how she'd get her next fix or drink. Long as they kept coming, her companions mattered little to her. They were just disembodied faces with no names.

Thankfully, her sister Regina sent her money once a month that was supposed to be going toward her education expenses for the courses she had enrolled for at the local community college. Her classy, upstanding parents would not hand over a dime in cash to her, but agreed to pay for books and class essentials, but Regina's money was meant for her personal use. She had started classes and was aspiring to be a gourmet chef, but after only one semester she had dropped out. Naturally, Helena and Stanford soon found that out, but it was a miracle that Regina didn't know.

It wasn't a loss of interest that caused her to do so, it was because she had met up with this guy (lets' call him Dwayne) who convinced her that she'd be better off working as an apprentice of sorts and getting her training on the job. So, he introduced her to another guy (lets' call him JT) who worked as a chef in a mid-town restaurant and he agreed to speak to the manager on her behalf. It was all on the up and up with the chef guy. He was really intending to help Myranda get a job in his restaurant, but Dwayne was planning on running a con game.

Well, Dwayne told her that his chef friend JT was looking to strike out on his own and if he did, she could probably be co-owner with him. Trouble was, he needed some investors to help him get his business off the ground and if she could manage to raise five thousand dollars she could get in on the ground floor.

Long story short, Myranda managed to raise the five grand by selling an heirloom piece of jewelry she lifted from her mother's house on a rare occasion she went to visit. The diamond studded brooch sold for seven thousand five hundred dollars and she promptly handed over the five to Dwyane and tried to save the rest. That did not last long. As soon as she found out that she had been scammed, she sank into a depression so deep she wanted to die. In fact, she had been placed on suicide watch for the first month of her committ,ment. Once again, Helena and Stanford took Julia and Kirk home with them.

Palmer's parents; Walker and Ruby Hendricks and Steve and Linda Rice (his father's second wife is Linda) tried to get involved. Of course Myranda's parents were more than agreeable to visitation and keeping the kids familiar with both sets of their fathers parents. Only the second time around, Palmer's mother Ruby thought that she and her husband should share equal custody with the Claytons. It got to be one big royal pain to deal with, but they were no match for Stanford and his legal eagles, so Julia and Kirk remained with Helena and Stanford.

Two years went by, and Myranda was released into the care of her parents. For a while all was fine, and she seemed to be making remarkable progress. The setback came when Regina admitted to her that she had had an affair with Palmer before he met her and that she was the one to break it off. This breakup had sent him running into the arms of her sister, and that every time they were thrown together Palmer missed no opportunity to tell her that Myranda had been second choice....

Stay tuned for Part Two!!

Conspiracy Theory

2013-03-07T19:31:00.001-05:00

Probably more people than want to admit it believe in conspiracy theories. I'm talking about the unexplained effects of chain reactions that stem from unexplained phenomena. Not necessarily the deep conspiracy of Roswell, New Mexico, but the kind of things that occur unexpected. The sort of situations that are twisted so tight into a maze of questions to which there are no apparent or plausible answers, and no one who could provide them is inclined to do so.

So the story goes in the murder of Bryce Meyers. It is now several weeks later from the date he was shot to death, and Alexis Martin is really no closer to knowing the full story of how and why he was killed as she was from the beginning. She had spent everyday of the first two weeks after that alarming phone call from Abigail alternating between being in a scary "day mare" and an all too real reality.

Alexis had been questioned twice more at the hands of the local police. The second time she received a visit from Mercer Holding and Artie Callahan the first detectives to question her; and the next time she had the privilege it was with two different ones. Although she found the whole thing to be a big, royal pain in the rear end, she couldn't help but be impressed with the new duo. Two women detectives who were both in their mid-fifties and were so sharp and at the top of their game that they made the other two look like rookies. Detectives Rosalyn Baker and Charlene Harris were deceptively friendly, and cunningly solicitous. They knew how to lead a person into saying things unawares, simply by lulling one into a false sense of security.

But now, she had been assured by the first two detectives that there would be no more questions and her cooperation had been greatly appreciated, but in essence they were done with her. Alexis was thrilled to hear this, but she had a lot of questions of her own that she could not get answers to. She never heard from Abigail again after the one time she visited her in jail. This happened just before Abigail suddenly disappeared from town.

Nothing else about the case appeared in the news, and the last thing she was able to hear was quite disturbing. In the beginning she had felt a heart-wrenching sympathy for Bryce's mother. She could not imagine how heartbroken Melinda Meyers must be. But about three weeks after his death, Alexis was attending a meeting of her local business women's chapter, and was the recipient of some startling news. Pretty darn sure that she was not meant to overhear this, Alexis could not believe her ears.

According to the overheard conversation, Bryce's parents Kyle and Melinda Meyers were persons of interest in an ongoing federal investigation. All of their personal assets were being scrutinized and although they had not been frozen yet, it seems to be just a matter of time before they would be, and federal warrants issued for their arrests. And the clincher was this: Bryce was a personal friend of the Special Prosecutor who was in line to work the case. The SP had been gleaning information from Bryce for months to be used against his parents.

And...Abigail Vanderberry had led him on to the point when he fell in love with her and they became engaged and planned their wedding. The wedding was never meant to take place, and all of the money that had been spent for the elaborate affair had been front money. Abigail was an undercover agent and her job had been to bring him in after the farce had been played out enough to reveal what she needed to know about his parents. Somewhere along the way, Abigail fell in love for real with Bryce, but then hours before the wedding was to have taken place (or so it was supposed to) she shot Bryce to death. The original plan was to have been for her to leave him a note with an explanation of why she walked out on him, and to dump him at the altar. Real love was not to have been a factor.

Kyle and Melinda had been planning to empty their bank accounts and open new off shore ones before their son had been killed. They had bought a new house, arranged to sell the one they currently lived in, and had wrapped up all of their domestic affairs in readiness to make a move to Tahiti. They had planned to be gone before the nuptials, based on a tip they had gotten that Abigail was in fact, not the person she pretended to be.

Nothing about this whole situation made sense to Alexis. However, she was grateful to be out of the mix. Now perhaps she could put all of it behind her, and get on with her life. It would be a most welcome change to get up in the morning and not feel as if she was living in a state of suspended animation. She may never get all of the answers to her questions, but she would draw a great deal of comfort from the money she had earned as the wedding planner. Thankfully, the check had cleared and now the plush cushion the cash made in her account was sufficient to make her willing to abandon the whole matter, and leave the conspiracy theories to the buffs who savor them.

Which is what she did as she hummed a jaunty tune all the way to the bank.

A Relative Position

2013-02-19T20:58:00.000-05:00

It had been a wonderfully enjoyable and romantic trip. The past year had been very good to Helena and Stanford Clayton Sr. They both had so much to be grateful for; as a couple and as individuals. Their marriage had gone through a severe trial as a result of a variety of contributing factors that conspired them to ultimate ruination. But, by the mercy of God, and divine intervention the marriage had survived and not only merely survived...it was thriving and they had never been so happy. It was almost like they rediscovered each other and recognized that they were two people independent of each other; yet still a couple.

In other words, after many years of ignoring the critical signs of marital breakdown, and refusing to address the problem areas of their marriage, Helena and Stanford were tremendously blessed to salvage the remains of a tortured and disintegrating union. After the domestic disturbance they experienced, no one expected them to be able to carry on. The almost total meltdown of them as a married couple had literally been a saving grace.

All of their children and grandchildren were prospering nicely with the exception of Myranda. Myranda Clayton Rice was the middle child, and quite frankly she was the one least expected to be the problem child. If Helena and Stanford would have had to name a child out of the three offspring, it would have been Stanford Jr., (the oldest) that would have been expected to ...well...have issues. Myranda and her husband Palmer had lost quite a bit of money a few years back in a pyramid scheme. Probably one of Palmer's biggest faults was his love of money. He was always looking for ways to turn an easy buck, and not all of these avenues had been exactly above board. His real vice was when he dragged his wife into it and convinced her to invest some of her own private funds into whatever cockamamie thing he was up to at the moment. And at that particular moment, he was into the so-called fast easy money making pyramid scheme.

Myranda knew it was the wrong thing to do when she married Palmer Rice, but she was hell bent on defying her parents. At the end of a brief courtship (she and Palmer dated for six weeks before getting married) they ran off to tie the knot to the dismay and the disappointment of both sets of parents. Palmer bore the brunt of the burden of the illegal scam, and subsequently the worst of the punishment that had been doled out to the four scammers. Philip Dover and Connor Woods were partners in crime with Palmer and had both received the same sentence. Jacob Hearn (who was married to Myranda's sister Regina) and also a pyramid partner had gotten off with the lightest of the sentences. He had to serve three years in a minimum security facility that was more of a "state run country club" than a correctional facility, but whereas he may have gotten off lightly as far as the law was concerned, his ultimate cost came at the dissolution of his marriage. Regina Hearn sued him for divorce the day he went off to "prison" and promptly put him out of her life.

With the financial aid of her parents, she was able to make a fresh start for herself and her twin sons; Eric and Eli. Not only did she set out to recoup her losses (which she did) but she actually made more money through hard work and dedication than she had thought she would. While Regina pulled her life out of the toilet and handled her business like a woman, Myranda on the other hand, used the situation to dig herself further into a hole. Her two children Julia and Kirk were already disadvantaged by the fate of their father, and she only made it worse by just about abandoning them in pursuit of her own worldly pleasures, being selfish and feeling endowed at the same time. When Palmer went off to prison, Julia was only a year old, and Kirk was just turning three. Helena had kept them at her home for nearly a year, providing a full time nanny and giving them both the love and support her wayward daughter could not seem to find the time or the inclination to give.

Now, it is a few years later, and although Myranda has come a long ways from where she was at one time, there was still quite a bit of road remaining to travel. The most important thing to come from her rehabilitation was that she had reconciled to be a better mother to Julia and Kirk. She was making remarkable progress in that area, but her weakness for men was still her personal demon and a wound that didn't want to heal.

Stanford had rescued his beautiful, smart, sexy wife from being a mother of three adult children and grandmother to four lovely and wonderful kids. He took this wife and grandmother away for a long, relaxing vacation; but here's the thing...he left going on this vacation with his wife. He spent the vacation with his woman. His desire was to leave the wife behind and release the woman within to be free to be all that she could, would and should be during the two weeks they spent on the French Riviera. It was a great life and it was filled with doing incredible things.

They were blessed and would never, ever forget it.