The Genesis of Michael J’s Life #fiction #MichaelJseries


Image by Anja🤗#helpinghands #solidarity#stays healthy🙏 from Pixabay

Michael came from parents who harbored a deep secret. The man who he thought was his father turned out not to be his father. This man, Jarren Johanssen, raised him as his own, but it had been tough not only for Jarren but for Karena, Michael’s mom.

When her husband would go away on a business trip and would often be away from his family, Karena had soon become lonely. She would go to work to take care of their three children at that time which would leave her feeling weary. She had few friends she would hang out with, and a mother who occasionally would help out with the children. But, Karena needed a different kind of attention and love. While at work, she was being seduced by her boss on several occasions and had finally given in to him that night of the day her husband left for a business trip to California.

A few weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. Being hit with the conception date had hit her hard because she knew who fathered her child. And she was hoping it would have been her husband since they had an intimate moment before he left to go on his business trip.

It was the summer of 1978 in Houston, Texas when Michael found out about this at a barbeque after he graduated from high school. He had never felt so devastated since receiving this information. So, he had a sit-down with his parents and demanded answers.

“I can’t believe what I’ve heard. Is it true? I need to know!” Michael questioned as they sat away from everyone at a picnic table. He somberly sat down, shaking his head in bewilderment. He used his thumb and middle finger to massage the throb that threatened to come.

Karena had downcast eyes as she knew this day would become exposed someday. She also hated the fact that her son-in-law had blurted this secretive and personal information out to everyone. She would have to have a talk with her daughter about airing the family’s dirty laundry even to people like her son-of-law. The thing with that is, her daughter must have overheard it at some point because Karena had never told any of them.

Jarren gave his wife a sidelong glance and set his eyes back on Michael. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table, trying to figure out how to say to a child the hate he has for his biological father. Or, how he truly feels about all of this. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Michael’s fault he was born. Jarren felt a rush of emotions hitting him all at once.

“Michael, I want you to know that I love you very much. I know this comes as a shock to you about me not being your biological dad, but we have gotten through the worst before. And, I’m not going to lie. It was hard raising another man’s son who, um, slept with my wife. And, er- in the beginning, I didn’t want anything to do with you. But when you were thirteen months old, and I was going through depression, you walked up and comforted me. It was the way you did it that helped-” Jarren paused because he was starting to get choked up.

Karena didn’t know whether to console her husband since she’s to blame for him to feel this way. It still hurts like hell to see her husband like this. Over the years, and after they had one more child when Michael was turning two years old, they had worked through it. Or so she thought. It had been hard, she won’t front, but what made it worse was Michael’s birth father kept popping up demanding to be in his son’s life.

Michael turned to his mom and saw sadness swimming in her eyes. Her long jet-black flowing hair was waving in the wind like a flag. He wanted to hear what she had to say because he needed to know not only why he was conceived the way he was, but why she never mentioned anything to him. Or at least try to. His stomach started to knot up as he expelled a long sigh.

Jarren took a quick glance at his wife with hurt and anger etched on his face. He then stood up and walked away. He has always been a proud man and not one to show his emotions much- at least not pain and sadness.

“Michael, I promise to talk about this to you. Right now, I want to wait until most of the people are gone so I can have that talk with you. Okay?” Karena reached out to caress the side of her son’s face. She is a private person and doesn’t like talking about herself or her family’s business around people who she feels are not family in that sense.

“Okay, mom,” Michael said quietly, closing his eyes when his mom planted a kiss on the top of his head. He didn’t know how to process it, and since his mom wanted to wait to talk about it, that time may not come anytime soon. He patted the head of his Saarloos Wolfdog, Rocko while he stayed at the picnic table deep in his thoughts about his life taken a drastic turn.

The next morning after breakfast as Karena and one of her daughters was cleaning the kitchen, there were a loud knock at the front door. She yells out to Michael to answer it.

She wasn’t quite in the mood for company and was hoping it would be a friend of one of her children coming to see them. But as she moves out of the kitchen and was heading toward the front door, she overheard a familiar voice.

“Hey, Michael! How’ve you been, son?” Standing at the door was a handsome dark-haired man with olive skin, gazing at her son with fatherly love in his eyes.

“I’ve been good, sir,” Michael responded. He glanced at his mom and saw she had reached his side with confusion and terror on her face.

“That’s good! Hi, Karena. Good seeing you again,” the guy said, staring into her dark brown eyes in a way that always made her feel uncomfortable.

“Michael, will you give me a moment with Mr. Xander, please?”

“Sure, mom.”

When Michael was out of earshot, Karena looked at the guy she fought so hard to rid herself of. The guy who, no matter where she goes, would always seem to find her, and she that she exorcised out of her system.

“You have some nerve being here. What if my husband comes home and sees you darkening our doorstep?” She hissed at him.

“I’ve been to Michael’s graduation away from your family. Now, I’m here to see him in person. I want to spend time with our son… today.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

©2020 Pamela E. Hester

A Refusal Of Career Demotion #fiction


Photo courtesy by: pexels.com

She wants to climb to the top of the corporate ladder.

But, like most people, she has to wait her turn.

She had seen others less qualified than her go on taking positions they had no business taking.

However, what does a woman in today’s world do to reach the top?

Unlike her, other women she witnessed would go on doing the unimaginable just to come up. And others either quit or remain holding their current job title that has been the same for too long.

The latter is what she has become and not too damn proud of either.

She was the valedictorian of her high school and a well-known Ivy League college. She knows her way around this Fortune 500 company that one would think she is the President and founder.

Still, she has been here for five years with the same job title as when she first started. She even interned here. She required, no, she demand a raise and a large order of respect.

When she was called in for an unscheduled meeting with the company’s panel, her nerves got the best of her.

She shook it off and prepared herself for anything. She checked her teeth in her silver compact mirror. And smooth out the imaginary wrinkles in her navy one-button pantsuit. What’s the worst that can happen? She simply cannot accept less or the same; going up is the only option.

©2021 Pamela E. Hester

Tell Me Now, Don’t Hold Back #MondayBlogs #fiction


Continued from I Knew It Was Too Good To Be True.

“Where is she? Something’s up with her, and I’m not leaving until she answers my questions.” Genevieve stood tall with her arms crossed and chin high in the air.

Before I could protest, her guard pulls out his .45 semiautomatic Glock in my direction. Damn!

https://pixabay.com

I stared back at Genevieve’s guard, his gun, then at her. So, it has come to this? I’ve been here, working my ass off to pay off a debt I hadn’t started in the first place, and a gun is pointed in my damn face.

“What the hell? What’s going on?” I said in a rush, trying to keep my voice down. I would hate for my client to be frightened. Then I remembered Genevieve had mentioned her upon entering.

“Kevin, we need to speak to your client. It will only take a moment,” Genevieve explained as she stood tall, glaring at me like I did something wrong.

I was taken aback because normally, she wouldn’t behave in this manner. The normalcy of her personality when it comes to women is extreme jealousy. Right now, I cannot diagnose the problem even if someone serves it on a fine china platter.

“Something I should kn-“

“Just call her out. It’s urgent,” Genevieve said, pointing in the direction of my bathroom.

I blinked. Just as I turned around, she ambles out with a lavender terry-cloth robe wrapped tightly around her body. A white towel is draped over her left shoulder as she used one end to dry her hair.

“So, what normally happens after-” her words trailed on as she noticed someone other than us in the room. Her green eyes fixated on Genevieve and then her guard with his Glock dangling from his right hand.

She appeared undisturbed; in fact, in her eyes held a challenging stare like she is prepared for a duel.

“Look, Tracey, I need for you to verify something for me, for security reasons,” Genevieve said, walking up to her.

“Okay, but it make it quick. I didn’t pay to be interrogated, so whatever you have to say, say it now or knock off a hundred dollars of the money I gave you upon arriving,” Tracey replied defiantly.

Genevieve gave her a long stare that said, “don’t go there with me.”


“I don’t know what that was all about, but Genny normally doesn’t act that way,” I assured Tracey, taking her hand and leading her to my cream-colored chaise lounge.

She quietly followed behind me and sat even quieter as I gazed into her eyes. She looks back at me with this expression I couldn’t pinpoint. No one wants to discuss Genevieve and her pitbull of a guard, and their unknown reason for busting in the way they had.

To be honest, I’m not sure if I can carry on with tonight with the usual stuff like I would with any client. This particular one here, still staring at me like she’s peering deep into my soul, frazzled me to the core.

I carefully traced the outline of her hand, feeling the heat radiating from her igniting; it warmed me up. She leans forward, and I took that moment to kiss her soft lips.

The moment felt so right, perfect timing, as our lips meshed. I used one hand to snake around her waist pulling her closer to me, while the other caresses her face and slender neck. Her ruby-red fingernails raked through the small hairs on my chest sending shock waves to my system.

All past apprehensions seemed to have melted away. She moans softly, bringing the kiss deeper. I’m thinking she wants this. Whatever she wants, it’s her night.

However, as I reach for the belt of her robe to open it, she alarmingly jerked back. Her eyes widen. She went stocked still. The color drained from her face leaving me in utter shock.

What’s wrong now? I wondered. I couldn’t believe we are back to being estranged.

“What is it now?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient. It is becoming unbearable to think you’re sure about something, feel it deep within yourself just to have it slapped you across the face.

Tracey stood up, muttering as she did so, trying to form the right words to tell me whatever it was that kept her hostage since she first arrived here.

“Tell me now what you want to say, and don’t hold back,” I demanded.

“Okay, okay. I’m a private investigator hired by your parents to find you,” she explained, appearing relieved.

My what did what now? I pondered the thought.

By: Pamela E. Hester ©2017

This concludes Part 3. Thank you for being patient with me as I write this post. I’m thinking of writing Part 4, but we’ll see. 😉

 

I Knew It Was Too Good To Be True #MondayBlogs #fiction


Continued from Tell Me What You Came Here For.

I glimpsed quickly at Genevieve, who forks an eyebrow, gazed back at this strange woman, and in a low, deep voice, I seductively said,

“Tell me what you came here for,” stroking the middle of her palm.

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She continued to stare at me, carefully; watchful eyes never leaving my face. I waited patiently on her answer to my question. My signature question for all clients was told so many times; however, I’ve managed to make each one feel equally special.

That line was about as tired as I am. There are only so many ways you can say a particular line. It’s not just for doing my job; it’s who and how I am.
Before I could open my mouth again, Genevieve speaks up.

“As I had mentioned, Kevin will take excellent care of you. He comes highly recommended. You will be taken wonderful care of. Have fun!” Genevieve explained to this medium-build woman who refuses to utter a word since they walked up to me. She left us with a concerned expression and a smile that didn’t quite reach her amber eyes.

The woman intently watched Genevieve leave for a moment, turned to me, and said,
“Well, Kevin, I’m sure you live up to the name they called you here.” Oh, what name? I wondered. “I’ll feel more comfortable once we’re upstairs and away from prying eyes and ears.” Oh, so she does talk.

“Sure.” I see what she meant. Genevieve and her guards are watching us… too carefully. I nodded their way. Genevieve raised her glass; her usual gin and tonic. She forked an arched eyebrow in question, and I slightly shrugged.

“Would you like a drink now or prefer to have one in my room?” I asked the woman, noting how she kept watched on Genevieve from the corner of her left eye. There was a passing glint that nearly nerved me as if she detested Genevieve for something I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

“Oh sure, in your room. Thanks for asking.” She blinked and started walking towards the stairwell. I grabbed her bags and lead the way.
In my room, she glances around at the decor. Hues of reds and beige colors filled the room with an ambiance of romance and warmth; even so, with an overall cozy feeling.

“Very impressive!” She said, moving over to the cherry oak armoire.

“Thanks,” I told her. “Here you go.” I handed her a pineapple and vodka concoction she mentioned on the way up here.
She mumbled thanks and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. She appeared out of place the way she stood rocking from foot to foot, shaking her glass to the point the liquid was sure to spill out. I reached out to take it from her.

“Can’t have you ruining such a beautiful outfit, nor a new carpet,” I told her. She grins sheepishly.

“Tell me about yourself,” I asked, pouring a drink for myself. I turned around from the wet bar and saw her checking out the bed.

“Plenty of time for that later,” I joked to make light of things. When she didn’t laugh, I let out a low sigh. There was something odd about her. It wasn’t for the fact she was nervous about being up here with me and what’s going to take place. No, she strikes me as if she was an undercover agent, or something. I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.

She eyed me in a way that spoke of confusion… and disgust, maybe. While she collects her thoughts, I busied myself with my mixed music playlist, setting it to smooth jazz. Acoustic Alchemy’s Jamaica Heartbeat serenaded through the Bose speakers.

Now, that I’ve gotten her attention, I reached for her hand, inviting her to dance with me. She hesitated at first, then place a small hand in mines. We sway, spin, and gyrated our hips, slightly bumping into each other. She laughs, then suddenly, pulled away.

“I-uh… I need a bath. It has been a long day.” She says, looking somewhat embarrassed. I watched her grabbed items from her bag like she was mad at it, and dashed into my walk-in closet.

“The bathroom is this way,” I pointed towards the left, to a door that was slightly ajar, trying not to laugh.

She avoided looking at me as she went inside. I chuckled softly at her embarrassment, but it was cut short when there was a loud knock at my door.

“Kevin! Open up, now!” Genevieve yells through the door.

“What is it?” I asked. She had her bulldog of a guard with her while the other stood back near the stairs.

“Where is she? Something’s up with her, and I’m not leaving until she answers my questions.” Genevieve stood tall with her arms crossed and chin high in the air.

Before I could protest, her guard pulls out his .45 semiautomatic Glock in my direction. Damn!

Stay tuned for Part 3 next week. Thanks for reading.🌹

By: Pamela E. Hester ©2017

Tell Me What You Came Here For #amwriting #MondayBlogs #fiction


Passion comes by the dozen. On the other hand, make that four. Love, one in a million.

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Her. It started with her. She took full advantage of me, and I allowed her to. I was too young, naive, and innocent, wanted to experience what love is like. Though, she left me confused, sad, angry, even; yet, took my heart and haven’t given it back. Nine months later, a baby girl was placed in my arms by my parents telling me she’s my daughter.

I didn’t even know when she was born, let alone conceived. I was fifteen and in college then. Yeah, I started college at a young age and became a father around the same time. So, to my understanding, we’re going to just sweep how my daughter was conceived under the rug? At this moment, I can’t… I’m feeling suffocated by…

(Shuddering.)

🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹🔸🔹

I gaze out through the bay window, waiting for my “shift” to end. Unpleasant memories are back torturing me. I’m twenty-four years old now, not fifteen. The day is nearing an end. I’m not particularly considering another client to walk through the door requesting for my time… and services at this hour; however, I’m known for clients to strut in as late as 10:00 p.m. It’s 8:30 now on this dreary evening and all I really wanted is to sleep. I sighed.

I moved away from the window, taking in the other guys sprawled out throughout the living room, the getting-to-know room, I like to call it, where our clients and we can become acquainted. They are entertaining the women, having a joyous time, sipping wine, and swaying to slow jazz.

Some of them appeared interested in tonight’s episode of enticement; I’m sure, while a few including me are ready to turn in for the night. Unlike me, the few already have their rooms occupied with someone waiting for them.

“Kevin, you want a drink?” Someone called out to ask me.
I turned swiftly and saw that it was Ash walking my way with a shot glass filled already. Oh yeah, filled my glass first without asking me, I thought sarcastically. The last time someone had done that, I ended up here, against my will!

“No, dude! An already-filled glass ready? Um, no, you know I don’t go for that!” I exploded. He knew not to do that. It’s kind of hard keeping my anxiety down living here. The majority of the guys think they are living the dream, while I am secretly planning on ways to leave this bewildering place.

“Oh, alright, damn,” He scurried away, mocking my agitated face.

Squatting on a barstool to calm my nerves, staring over at the new décor in the lavish, spacious adjoining room Madame Genevieve furnished a month ago, I am in awe. She finally managed to change the previous dreadful look that made me sickened by it. This new look… wow!

She went with an Egyptian theme of ivory, red, and black colors with decorations that are in the form of the head of the Sphinx, animal figurines, wall paintings, all the works; she has definitely done well. It was probably purchased with my money since I made her the most money than all the guys here. Hmm…no wonder she won’t let me leave.

“Are you booked tonight, Kev?” Brian asked, knocking his knuckles against the wooden table to get Sam, the bartender’s attention.

“Nope. Hopefully, I’ll stay unbooked. These women are tiring me out,” I told him, taking in a breath, reflecting back to a beautiful Latin woman named Marissa. She really knows how to have a good time. Whatever happened to her?

“Really? I find that hard to believe. An attractive Italian-Native American guy like you with all the works… you got it going on man, you’d graduated from a four-year Ivy League college at the age of nineteen. Man- oh, thanks, Sam. What was I talking about?” Brian leaned toward me, scrunching up his forehead. He’s so confused it made me feel the same way. This guy’s short-term memory is no laughing matter; he got it bad. I waved the confusion away.

“Nothing. You have a client?” He nodded, then made a head gesture towards the Egyptian room to a gorgeous Latin woman with a curvaceous body talking to a stunning, tall African woman. Brian tells me her name is Miss Matthews. She winks at him, and with a curve of her finger, she beckons for Brian’s overeager ass to lead her to his room.

He met my smirk as he drowns the rest of his vodka, and nodded in another direction. “Looks like Madame is hooking you up for tonight, you lucky man you. Enjoy!” He informed me, very close to my ear, I might add. Too close.

I cut my eyes at him and from the corner of my eyes, saw Genevieve sashaying in a pink floral print, full-length kaftan dress leading this strange woman my way. Oh, damn! I should have been prepared for this, but I’m not. My breathing starts to hitch.

I motioned for Sam to pour me a drink; the guy was already on the job. I hear the Southern drawl of her voice coming closer. The sultriness of her drawling can only mean one thing… she has a potential client personally for me; who wants an all-nighter; I can see the never-ending greed in Genevieve’s eyes.

This woman she has with her has a hard glare trained on me with catty green eyes like she is assessing me. She is a red-headed beauty, wearing a purple lace camisole and black skirt, her purse and night bag bounce against her toned legs.

I glimpsed quickly at Genevieve, who forks an eyebrow, gazed back to this strange woman, and in a low, deep voice, I seductively said,

“Tell me what you came here for,” stroking the middle of her palm.

****To Be Continued…

©2016 Pamela E. Hester