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**The following exerpt is a SHORTENED version of my first chapter. Keep in mind that although copyrighted, it has not yet been professionally proofed, so please ignore and forgive grammatical errors.
Exerpt from my current novel, as of yet, untitled:
As he sat down across the table from me and painstakingly positioned himself in such an awkward position that you could almost count the seconds until his knees collapsed, I couldn’t help but wonder; who was this man? What in the world could he want from me?
He obviously wasn’t a lawyer, as he could barely pass for 22, with short twists in his hair that said ‘I’m from the hood’ yet dressed in a navy pinstripe suit clearly from some sort of warehouse, paired with unpolished black loafers and a courier type bag one could almost mistake for a knapsack.
What did he say his name was again? It had been so long since I have had a visitor of any sort that I was still in shock when he protruded his hand as if to shake mine, and whatever name he had called himself had long been lost in the maze that was my thoughts at that moment.
I must admit however that although at first glance this brotha seems a bit sloppy and unprofessional, upon closer examination he does seem to produce an almost sensual sort of vibe, a very strong energy of seriousness and sex appeal, with an obviously toned body hiding beneath his well fitted garments, and gold designer frames rested high on his chiseled, masculine nose; a perfect accent to the golden, honey-hazel in his piercing eyes. Oh, even after all these years and bad experiences, the “red boned” and “high yella” men still stir up such a passion within me. But the clang of the final lock in the big metal door behind me snapped my mind back to the question at hand: Who the hell is he?
“Mr. Washington, I’d like to thank you again for agreeing to meet with me.” He spoke again, and this time, I heard him.
“Well, seeing where I am, I didn’t really have much of a choice, now did I”? I said, my eyes shifting nervously back and forth between the stranger in front of me, and the armed corrections officer that was watching us from his post beside the only door in this tiny, concrete room, “And I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was again?”
Again he reached out his hand as if he actually expected me to shake it, but I’m no fool, so I just looked at his as if to say ‘you know better,’ and he quickly placed his hand nervously back in front of him where it belonged. He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Mr. Washington, my name is Edward McCullough, and I am a law student over at Tulane University, and if it’s alright with you, I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to discuss your case with me.” He sat back comfortably now, those beautiful eyes fixated on mine as if he were trying to read my thoughts. My defenses sprang up, and as we sat in a silence that seemed an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, my mind was churning ideas through my brain at an alarming speed. I pressed my feet flat and firmly to the floor to ground myself, smiled and said “No.”
The look on his face was a mix of shock and disappointment, yet the sexy, smirk-like curl never left the corners of his plump lips. “I’m..I’m sorry, did you say no?”
“Yes, Mr. McCullough, I…”
He quickly interrupted me with an upheld hand and said “Please, call me Edward”.
“Alright Edward, yes, my answer is no”. I said, intentionally seeming annoyed at having been interrupted. Edward sat quietly for a moment, studying my face again. This also gave me a moment to further study his. I was again amazed by just how striking and unique this young man was. His complexion was the color of wet sand, very unusual but very beautiful as well, and I wondered if he was mixed. I began to notice a faint sprinkling of freckles just below each of his eyes, that seemed connected by a few just along the bridge of his nose; they were so faint that if you weren’t staring you would most likely not notice them.
I don’t know why but knowing that I had noticed the almost elusive beauty marks gave me a strange feeling of accomplishment, as though I had solved some sort of puzzle or found all the hidden objects in one of those picture games. It’s amazing what can amuse someone who has been imprisoned as long as I have. Just as I was beginning to shift my eyes lower than his face, the sound of his voice brought my attention back to the conversation.
“Mr. Washington, I completely respect your decision, but if you don’t mind, would you tell me why you’re saying no?”
“My answer is no because I don’t know you; I have no Idea WHY you want to talk about my case. I was sentenced 15 years ago, it’s over, case closed. Didn’t you say you were a student? How do you even know about me?”
“I’m sorry, you’re right, Mr. Washington I should have said all that from the start.” Edward said hurriedly. He took a long sip of the stale water from the glass that had been brought in for him, cleared his throat and continued. ” Well one of my classes recently studied some cases that related to sexual identity and self defense, or rather domestic violence in gay and lesbian couples. Your case happened to be one of them, and I don’t think…well, I’ll just say that I believe had your defense been handled differently, you would not be here, and I felt inclined to come meet you, and I was hoping that you’d be willing to talk with me about it.”
I smiled and asked, “Are you gay, Edward?”
With a nervous tone he quickly protested “No, uh, no Mr. Washington, I’m straight, in fact I’m engaged. My fiancé, Yvette, is also a student and we plan to be married as soon as we both graduate.” He seemed gracious enough, but I could tell the question threw him, as he was now fidgeting with his sleeves and seemed to be avoiding eye contact.
“Then I’m very sorry, but my answer is still no. I can’t understand what you hoped to accomplish by discussing my case, but it is over with. I have been in here 15 years, Edward, that’s a long time. A long time to cry, and regret, and wish and dream. A long time to think. And it took me a long time to deal with it all, but I have come to terms with the fact that I am in here, that this is not a dream, that I will never see daylight as a free man again. There has been enough heartache and disappointment in my past, and too much lying ahead of me. I have a lover in here, did you know that? Someone I happen to care very deeply for, that I know I will lose in 5 years, one day the doors will be open for him and he will walk out of here, and all I can do is wish him well and add heartbreak to my list. I’m 50 years old, and I don’t know how much more I can live with, so dragging up the past is just not something I want to do anytime soon, okay? I really do appreciate you coming here, it means a lot to know that someone out there knows I’m alive, that someone cares, it really does, but tearing open old wounds isn’t going to accomplish anything. I killed a man. Self defense or not, I’m in here, and that’s that.”
“But Mr. Washington, that’s just it, I believe you can be free again, with the changes in the system and the advances in the way African-Americans are viewed by the rest of the world, I honestly feel that if the details of your case were to come to the attention of the right people, you could have a chance at getting your life back.”
“What life, Edward? My life is gone already. Thank you for your concern, but please, go live your life man. You will be surprised one day at how quickly it passes you by. Good luck with your fiancé.” I rose to leave, and Edward said “Mr. Washington, thank you for your time, and I was wondering if you would be okay with me writing to you?”
The question took me by surprise, and even though I was now more suspicious of this young man than I was before, I said “Of course Edward, you can write to me anytime, but my answer to discussing my case will always be no…if you still want to write, be my guest.”
Edward then rose, protruded his arm once more in the gesture of a handshake, and this time, I returned the gesture, only instead of just shaking my hand, he turned up my palm, and cupped it, holding my hand for a long few seconds and said “Mr. Washington, I promise, with or without your help, I am going to get you out of here, you’ll be hearing from me soon.” And with that, he grinned, turned and walked, no, strutted, towards the door as though he had really accomplished something and was proud of himself. The guard stepped aside, opened the door, and as I watched Edward’s broad shoulders exit the room, my heart still fluttering, I laughed to myself, thinking I would never hear from him again.
I was wrong.
The first letter arrived about a week after our awkward meeting in mid August, 1994. I was walking around the yard lost in thought, enjoying the beautiful August sunlight when I heard my name being called from over by the rec room entrance where mail call was held. I never gathered for mail call because I never got mail. My ex-wife used to write and tell me about my daughter, Tonya, but that stopped once my daughter was grown, and I haven’t received mail from anyone in over five years. I ran over and received my envelope from the officer, and was surprised and excited to see the return label with ‘Mr. Edward C. McCullough’ printed on it. I didn’t think this day could get any better after my partner, Frederick, and I had had two amazing, uninterrupted ‘sessions’ this morning in the shower room, but now after getting this letter, this was the best day I had had in a long time.
I ran over to one of the bleachers at the far end of the basketball course to read my letter. I opened it carefully and pulled out the half page letter and began to read:
‘Dear Mr. Washington,
How are you? You said it was okay for me to write to you, and so I am. I hope you don’t mind, but I pulled copies of your case files from our library and I am looking them over along with a few close friends of mine, also students here at the university. We are all hoping to find something valuable we can present to an attorney. We all believe you should not be where you are, and are going to do everything we can to get your sentence pardoned and your name cleared. I know how strange this must all seem, and I know you do not know me well enough to trust me, but I only ask you to trust that I have only good intentions in this; I hate to see anyone falsely imprisoned, but especially another innocent black man.
I hope you take care of yourself, and please write back as soon as you can and let me know if you have changed your mind about speaking with me.
Sincerely,
Edward’
Boy, this guy was so full of it. I just shook my head and chuckled, tossed the letter in the garbage and ran inside the living area to watch ‘Oprah’ with Fred.
It always made me happy to be around Fred, he makes being here almost bearable. Fred has to be one of the sexiest men I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, framed 6’5, 230 pounds of pure, raw muscle and endowed like a porn star, with shoulder length Jamaican dreads lightly touched with grey, piercing black/brown eyes and thick lips, he appears to be much, much younger than his actual age of 49.
We met about seven years ago when he first got sentenced for accessory to armed robbery. We immediately connected, mostly because we were so close in age, I was 43 and he was 41.At first I was a bit mistrustful of him, because of his charges, but soon found out that underneath that hard exterior, was a scared guy that had been hurt and scarred by life, just like the rest of us, and he just needed to be loved. And I did. The more time we spent together, the deeper I fell for him, until eventually he became the stars, moon and sun for me. He is so very sweet to me, and it is tearing me apart that I will lose him in 5 years when he is released. I try my best not to let it show, but every once in a while I catch a glimpse of his face when he’s smiling at the television or reading, not looking at me, and I can’t hold back the sadness.
Over the next couple of months I received several more letters from Edward, each about the same as the first, and each I discarded with no response. However around the first week of December I received a letter that immediately sent my head reeling. This letter was not from Edward, but from William Jackson of Jackson & Meyers Law Firm. According to the letter from Mr. Jackson, Edward and his friends had come to him with my case, and after examining it, he was willing to assist me pro bono. I assumed simply for the publicity, as I remember what a media circus my original trial was back in 1978. I wasn’t sure I was willing to go through all that again, my picture in every newspaper, my name being dragged through the mud, my very existence being attacked by every religious figure looking for attention. I barely survived it last time.
But the glimmer of hope he was waving in front of me was enough to bring back all the memories of my life before this ordeal. Happy memories of gumbo and ale on the streets of New Orleans, of anonymous sex with a hot guy in a cheap motel, and the freedom of just driving in a convertible with no clear destination. My dreams of one day becoming an author, retiring and living on the Carolina Coastline, having quality time with family and friends. I carefully laid the letter down on the small metal table that was bolted to the floor beside my bunk, and I realized that I was crying. My hands were shaking and for some unknown reason there were pearls of perspiration forming on my forehead, even though it stayed quite cool inside the inmate housing units. It was only about 20 minutes until dinner, so I decided to wait until after I had my meal to discuss any of this with Fred. It may seem strange to some, but I consider Fred my life partner, my lover and my best friend, so I wanted to include him in a decision as big as trying to appeal a 15 year old conviction.
I went to dinner, or rather the Holy mess-on-a-plate they substitute for dinner, which consisted of a small portion of Salisbury steak, a heaping pile of watery instant mashed potatoes without gravy, peas and a slice of white bread with a glass of see through iced tea. After dinner, I asked Fred to come back to our cell, which, with us being lovers, we were very fortunate to share. After giving him an embrace and a long, passionate kiss followed by a gentle pat on his ‘little man,’ as was our habit anytime we found ourselves alone for a moment, I sat him down and began explaining everything that was going on, starting with the visit from Edward, which I had neglected to mention to him earlier to avoid his jealous pouting. He hated to see me talking to another man, and I have to admit, I hated seeing him talk to anyone as well. I am not sure if this had to do more with our actual jealousy issues or our confined setting, but whatever it was, we were both jealous. I was surprised however that he was excited at the possibility of me getting my sentence overturned.
“Baby, don’t you get it? If this happens, we could spend our lives together the way we’ve been talking about.” Fred proclaimed, “This is what I’ve dreamed of, and I thought this is what you’ve dreamed of too. How could you even consider not doing it? What do you have to lose?”
“Well, for starters,” I said, now pacing back and forth in our tiny cell, all of a sudden feeling somewhat dizzy,” I could lose my sanity. I don’t wanna get my hopes up, you know? I had high hopes back in ‘78; I knew I was innocent, so I was so confident that this would go away… And look where I’m at. I am not happy here, no one could be, but I’m complacent. I’m used to it. Do you know how hard it will be to go through this, and have the entire world slap my face again? For a second time? And then it would be almost as if I asked for it… I don’t know…”
Fred could clearly sense my frustrations and emotions, and he quickly jumped up and grabbed both my hands and placed them in his. He kissed me, led me to the bed and sat us down. “Tarrance, baby, I get all that. I really do, but any man in here would KILL for an opportunity like this, a chance at freedom, and you’re gonna turn it down? What happens in five years, when I max out, and we lose each other? I told you I would stand by you, write, phone calls, the whole nine, and baby I will, but do you want to spend years wondering ‘what if’? ‘Cause baby I don’t. If there is a chance, the slightest smallest tiniest chance that we could be together, always, baby don’t you want to take it?” The genuine concern and love I saw in his face at that moment was all the reassurance I needed, and I decided right then and there that I did want to take that chance. I had to, because I owed it to Fred, and I owed it to everyone that had ever said a kind word to me, everyone that had ever encouraged me or cared for me. I owed it to myself.
And at that moment, of all the mixed emotions that were raging inside of me, the one that was most recognizable was passion. My love for Fred, this beautiful brown skin man that was here with me and that I could call my own. I raised my head to gaze into Fred’s beautiful face, and before I realized it I kissed him so hard I thought sparks would fly. It was an amazing kiss, with our tongues gently massaging one another’s, our heads rolling back and forth, the kind of kiss you can feel throughout your entire body. I pulled away to peek my head out the door to make sure everyone else was occupied, and when I was sure the coast was clear I turned and dove on my man, pinning him down, my lips upon his neck. He smelled so amazing; manly, Irish Spring and workout sweat. I could feel his erection pressing into my groin, my own manhood rapidly growing. I began to lick the tip of his ear, while he kissed at my collarbone and his fingers found their way to the small of my back. With one forceful movement he lifted my body effortlessly and reversed us, so that it was my own body pinned to the bed. He began to unbutton my shirt, all the while grinding his stiffness into my thigh. His lips soon found themselves caressing my now exposed nipple, and I reached for his groin. And just as my hand brushed against his naval hair, and I thought this moment couldn’t possibly get any better, the most incredible thing happened… Lights Out!
Great excerpt, this looks to be the beginning of a great read. I wish you the best in your ongoing effort to complete this novel with its themes of love, hope and the consequences of this crazy world we live in. Knowing you personally, I am intrigued by your ability to cross barriers of time, race and sexuality to compell readers to more fully appreciate the world we live in.
Dave
Posted by dave b | 02/08/2010, 7:58 amThank you Dave, that means a lot man. Luv ya
Posted by brandonjdj | 02/08/2010, 11:31 pm