Fact & Fiction - "Didn't Your Mother Ever Tell You..."
Ledger. That's who we're into, now.
I regret to inform you that life got in the way of writing these last eleven days, which has put me twelve days behind schedule and I'm miserable about it. I'm not certain that I will make the June deadline, but if not, then I'll surely make the first week of July. Be patient with me. This piece is well worth the wait.
For the cover... synopsis... facts... and sample.
It was the only language I spoke...
And I was as fluent as they came.
It was the only emotion I’d witnessed.
In fact, I’d been conceived as a result of it.
It was the only thing I’d neglected my entire twenty-eight years of life...
That was until the day Ledger Billion and his golden locks came sauntering into the greenhouse.
It was the only reason I strived to avoid him and anything attached to him after that fateful day.
With one glance, the showcasing of pearly whites and miserable jokes on each of our ends, he’d become my kryptonite.
It was the only way to describe what I must’ve felt for him.
Mind-boggling, reassuring, undeniable and inexplicable.
All the things my mother had once told me my father had been to her.
It was the only cause for my heart to dance in circles each time I intercepted the smallest notion of his presence. Paramount, he’d become the highest mountain I desired to climb.
It was the only factor rooting against our union.
He was glorious, but he wasn’t mine.
Not mine to have, at least.
It was the only piece of reasoning I had to fight for his personal gratification, because I wasn’t it.
It was the only way to keep us both safe and unharmed.
Because, I was selfless and certain of two things:
1. He deserved more than the limits I’d been given.
2. I’d break his heart, miserably.
Here are a few facts about FACT & FICTION and this sample:
Subject to change.
These two will conquer the type of love that one can only dream of. If you don't believe in undying love, then this isn't the title for you.
This piece is EMOTIONAL and I'm not ashamed of it. You're going to fall in love and I'm going to say, "I told you so!"
I don't have an official release date. It'll be here when it be here.
This book has endured a twelve day break that I'm miserable about. However, I can't complain. I needed the time.
“Because when love is real, you gather your bones and make supper, anyway.”
His eyes were like raspberries.
Stuck out from the remainder of his body as if they were sore thumbs.
They were the color of honey suckle from the three.
And since he’d graced us with his presence, they’d been haunting me.
The small spiraled curls that spouted from his head reminded me of the pasta I’d ate last night before bed.
They were golden.
Possibly the same color of his eyes.
I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel between my thighs.
Sliding through my fingers as I tried getting a good grip.
Attempting to collect my fleeing soul as their manufacturer took his sip.
It seemed to stretch for an eternity.
I’d need to pull out my old raggedy sneakers and socks.
To climb his ass like a peach tree.
He continuously put me in the mind of food.
The best kinds that I loved to eat.
I guess my thoughts were biased.
Because, in the moment there was nothing more that I wanted to do than devour him like a Friday night treat.
From his stance, I could tell that his nectar was sweet.
I could feel the thick white imaginary cream sliding down my throat as I slid my tongue across my front teeth.
He’s on his way towards me…
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it is impolite to stare?”
Had I really been staring? I questioned with furrowed brows as I hugged my notebook while securing it by my chest.
With a straight face, I gathered my bearings and responded to the man in front of me wearing the simplest button down and gray slacks that he enhanced tremendously. He reminded me of something from a catalogue, rare and extremely unlikely to encounter in the real world. Yet, here he was before me. The man was insanely beautiful and that was the humbling description.
“She’s dead. Didn’t have the chance to teach me much.” I shrugged. “How can I help you?”
I celebrated on the inside as I watched him dismantle before my very eyes. His deep dark skin was immediately infused with deep red hues as the lining of his jaw flexed to reveal the structure of his cheek. He was remorseful of his sly comment, but that wouldn’t save his ass.
“I’m sorry. Please accept my apology. That was not the smartest thing for me to say. I’m Ledger.” He extended his hand, causing me to look down at it with a sarcastic smile on my face.
I hugged my notebook tighter, not intending to receive the open invitation to forgiveness. On one end, I was too afraid that if I let my notebook go, he’d witness all of the fuckery I’d written about him prior to his journey over to my area. On the other end, he was fine vanity. It was one of those cases where I’d rather look and not touch.
Defeated, he pulled the extended hand towards his forehead and swiped the imaginary sweat before sighing, “Cut me some slack. I said sorry.”
He amused me, dangerously so. I wasn’t fond of the tingling sensation in my stomach and the jitters that had formed since he’d been in my presence. Though visibly well-managed, I was a disaster beneath my thick layers of skin.
“My mother is very much alive. She’s actually standing behind you.” I chuckled, nodding towards my mother, who happened to be assisting a customer. Unfortunately, he didn’t find humor in my response, which was evident by the frustration that skated across his handsome face.
“Well, you shouldn’t poke fun in that manner,” he paused to catch a name that I wasn’t giving him, “young lady. Especially not with someone who knows the pain of losing their mother.”
It was my turn to shutter. My poorly tanned skin charred from the elevated temperature of my body. Flustered and sympathetic, simultaneously, I began to hyperventilate. The words had evaded my frail brain, which left me speechless.
Finally, I relaxed my limbs and loosened the grip on my journal. I closed it before sitting it on the counter in front of me. Sadness had quickly replaced the lust that I harbored for this peculiar creature, still standing as if I was indebted to him. And, I felt that I was. I owed him an apology, but the words didn’t want to see the light of day.
“Lovelynn,” rolled off his tongue with emphasis. The underlining satisfaction he encountered upon reciting my name gave me the boost of whatever the fuck I needed to become unstuck and cemented.
“I’m sorry. That was ugly of me. I-”
“Ugly of you, I wouldn’t combine the two in a sentence. It’s not suiting. Let’s chuck it up to your lack of maturity and inconsideration of others.”
“Excuse me.” My neck nearly snapped as I jerked back and questioned his reasoning. “It is completely possible for that statement to have been true for me.”
“As it is factual for me. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Lovelynn, can you please help me find flowers for my mother’s grave. Mother’s Day is tomorrow and I want to make sure her ground is as beautiful as she was.”
Oh, he was laying it on thick. As much as I’d rather call my own mother over to help, I knew that I owed him this one. Scooting from the stool I was seated in without mumbling a single word, I secured my journal in the compartment that held my pouch and a few more goodies before ushering Mr. Ledger towards the garden.
Ledger. Even his name was wondrous.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
We’d made it outside and into the greenhouse, which happened to be the reason I’d been volunteering at my mother’s shop since I was a kid. She refused to employ me, so I forced my way in the door for a few hours a day just to inhale the fresh tomatoes, hear the sprinklers that were automated to water the entire house whenever there were no signs of human activity, collect the insects that tried stealing the nutrients only to set them free miles away on the ride home and to encounter people as unique as the person behind me shrugging his shoulders as I turned to face him while walking backwards. He wasn’t picky, which could be deadly in a shop full of flowers to choose from.
Frankly, I preferred the picky customers. They usually knew what they wanted or was able to voice what they didn’t, which both made my job easier. Putting on my thinking cap, I began fishing for some suggestions.
“We have orchids, roses and African violets that would spice up a headstone quite nicely.” I decided to give him three options instead of the wide variety that we had available in the store.
“Sounds good to me.” He responded, walking behind me with his hands in his pockets and lowering his head to miss the vines and flower pots handing from the sheets above us.
“I’m sorry. I named three different flowers. Which would you rather have?”
“Something colorful. Roses will due.” He finalized, sensing the frustration in my voice.
“Good, now, we have a few colors that-”
“Give me a few of them all.” He interjected before reaching into his pocket.
“I’m sorry, but you must make your payment at the front.” I insisted.
“Frankly, I don’t have time to wait in the line amongst people who want to discuss their gardens and what they’re planning to grow this season. I was thinking I could kill two birds with one stone. First, I’d like to cover the flowers and then I’d like for you to take a break and join me at the little breakfast spot down the way. Baisleigh’s House.”
“Frankly,” I mocked his word, “I can’t do either. Whether you give me the money or not, if you are not checked out at the front counter and walk out of that door, then you’ll be considered a thief and handled as one. As far as meeting you down the way, I hate breakfast and I’m not interested in dining there, either.”
With a chuckle, he rubbed the blondish hairs on his chin as his eyes scanned my frame. I felt as if I was under scrutiny from the oversize golden God. It was baffling how a man so damned black had managed to acquire such light strands with the eyes to match. What was even more exhausting was trying to figure out why they complimented him even more than darker colored hair would – or at least I imagine.
“I’m giving you the money for the flowers and I highly doubt that I’ll be labeled the criminal you’d love to pinpoint me as. You wouldn’t allow them to take me down, not when I haven’t committed a single crime. Breakfast,” he paused, “You hate it. Noted, for future references. Dinner sounds more agreeable. Don Dolce? At eight?”
Shaking my head, I collected the flowers of choice and packaged them for the road. After they were snipped and ready for their next destination, I handed them over. “Here’s your mother’s flowers. I’m certain she’ll love them.”
I made it a point to redirect the conversation and his wondering eyes. There would be no Don Dolce and there would not be any dining together. Not any time soon and not in this lifetime. For one, getting involved with anyone at this point of my life would be highly selfish. Secondly, a single man this damn fine meant that there were a lot of deficiencies that weren’t exposed at the crack of his smile or the sound of his voice. I had no desire to discover his truths after I’d been swept from my feet like some Disney princess.
“Ms. Lovelynn, your deflecting is only delaying, not denying. I saw the way you continued peeping up from that little journal of yours. I can imagine what’s sprawled over those pages about me. I-”
“You are full of yourself. There isn’t one thing in my journal that relates to you.” I scoffed, seemingly offended. Yet, I was utterly astounded. Did this nigga read minds or was his bluffing?
“Then, you wouldn’t mind if I had a look, huh?” We’d reached the counter, which happened to be my post for the day.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you the satisfaction. Those are my personal thoughts ab-”
“Are you walking up to the counter to pay for your things, now, or what?”
“No. I’m waiting to see the last page of that journal you held so close to your chest that I couldn’t see your name tag until I revealed that my mother was no longer with me. Maybe admitting that my father died hours after she did from a broken heart and they’re buried next to one another will get you to crack it on open for me.”
“Oh, that’s low.” I squinted my eyes and began chastising him without a word.
“But, did it work?”
Oh, what the hell? I shrugged, reaching under the counter and grabbing my journal. It didn’t matter that he’d read my most inner thoughts about him, because there were at least twenty other pages that described other men that walked inside of the building throughout the day as well. Maybe none of them were as enticing as the piece I’d written about him, but they were pretty damn similar.
“Since you insist.” I shrugged. “You can read it on the way to checkout. I’m two steps behind you.”
I expected him to turn and head towards the registers. I expected him to hand me my shit back and tell me that he was joking. I expected him to laugh it off as he went on about his way and left me alone. I never expected him to begin reading it… especially not aloud.