Lust and Lies (The Jamie Reynolds Chronicles #1) Read online

  The Jamie Reynolds Chronicles:

  Lust and Lies

  Casandra Charles

  eBook edition

  © 2015 Casandra Charles

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your digital bookstore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are purely the product of the author's imagination. Any license that has been taken is for the tone of the story and the enjoyment of the reader.

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  Contents

  Dedication

  Good-bye Atlanta and Hello…

  Only Ten Hours to Go

  Home Sweet Home…

  I Prayed for You…

  What Did You Do to Antonio?

  We Need to Talk…

  Two Months, Ten Days, and a Whole Lot of Hours…

  One-Hour Trip to New Jersey…

  You Can’t Change the Flight or the Closing…

  Damn, Seven Hours, I Got to Go…

  What a Mess…

  How About Tomorrow…

  I Smiled at Myself and Embraced This New Relationship…

  Round Two Was Much More Enjoyable…

  $150 Only Lasted a Week…

  I Understand, Daddy…

  Damn, I Can’t Wait…

  Dinner and Talking…

  You Want to Talk About It…

  Wait, You Did What…

  It’s a Promise…

  I Am at a Loss for Words…

  Do You Need Me to Call 911…

  Graduation Day…

  You Are Your Father’s Child…

  Does This Mean What I Think It Means?

  I Moved For You…

  Closer to Atlanta…

  This is My New Life…

  This Can’t Be Happening…

  Hate Mail…

  Good-bye Norfolk and Welcome Back to Atlanta…

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to God and my best friends, who’s always been by my side without judgment. Thank you for believing in me and giving me the strength and guidance to finish this book.

  I also want to thank those who provided good, bad and ugly memories in my life because I’ve learned so much about myself and life… thanks for inspiring this book.

  Good-bye Atlanta and Hello…

  Ring, ring, ring. “I’m not able to pick up the phone right now, but leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “Hey, Jonathan, this is JR. I’m about to pull up to your house in about five minutes. I hope you’re ready; I said I would like to be on the road before one o’clock. Anyways, I’m about to call your other phone.”

  Ring, ring, ring. Damn, still no answer. “This is JR. I hope your ass is ready. I’m about to pull up to your house now.”

  As soon as I pulled up to Jonathan’s house, I saw him outside with two other guys.

  “Hey, Jonathan, I just tried to call you.”

  “My bad, J, I was outside and left my phones in the house.”

  “I hope you’re ready.”

  “I’m about to get dressed now.”

  “Hurry ya ass up,” I said, sounding crazy.

  “Woman, don’t be rushing me.”

  The two guys just stood there looking at me. I am not going to sugarcoat my appearance that day. I had on some old gray sweats, an old LeBron James T-shirt, and some black Nike flip-flops with white socks on, not to mention my hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. I was looking a hot mess. Oh well, I thought. I didn’t care; I was about to be stuck in a car for fourteen hours, driving back home to New York. Besides, I was never going to see these guys again.

  “My bad,” Jonathan tried to apologize.

  “Hey, guys, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is my brother Antonio, aka Toni, and his cousin Billy, aka B,” Jonathan said, trying to make the guys sound cool with akas, as he noticed they were looking at us as if we were an old married couple.

  “Hey,” I said to both of them as I walked into the house.

  “I’m about to get dressed now, Jamie. Give me a sec,” he yelled as he ran upstairs to the bathroom.

  “You good. I’m just going to make myself comfortable,” I said under my breath. “Damn, I hate guy houses; they never have any food in them.” Just as I said that Jonathan’s brother, Antonio, walked into the kitchen.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said guys never have any food in their house.” I was bold as hell and that was my first time in their house, but I didn’t care.

  “We got things to eat. What do you want?” Antonio said, trying to defend the men’s honor.

  “I don’t know. You guys have bagels with no cream cheese, cereal with no milk, no bread, no sandwich meat, nothing.”

  “Look, man, I got this. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “For real… okay. What you going to make me?” I asked, sounding surprised he offered to make me breakfast.

  “I said I got this,” Antonio said while looking in the refrigerator.

  “My bad,” I said as I began to walk out of the kitchen and into the living room, to give him some room. “I heard a lot about you, Mr. Antonio, or should I say Toni.”

  He looked up from behind the cabinet with a dumb look on his face. “Oh really?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up; they weren’t all that good…” I really didn’t know him to come at him like that, and besides, he had a disappointed look on his face. “I’m just kidding,” I said really fast, trying to pretend that I was playing, but really, I wasn’t. Two weeks ago was the first time I had ever heard about Jonathan’s so-called play brother, Toni, after knowing and working with Jonathan for over two years.

  We were working the annual Music Midtown festival again at Piedmont Park. I was the on-site manager and I hired Jonathan like I always do; to help with site crew. The park was looking great and the weather was going to hold up for tomorrow’s event, so we left the air-conditioned motor home and were walking and talking. After spending twelve hours a day together, anywhere between two to three weeks at a time, we slowly became good friends.

  “So when do you leave, J?” Jonathan asked.

  “After we wrap up this festival and I get paid, of course.” We both started laughing because there had been some events we had worked on when it took us over two months to get paid.

  “Man, sometimes I hate working freelance, but at least I don’t have to clock in and out Monday thru Friday, wearing a power suit. I can’t even imagine myself working a nine-to-five, well, at least not now…” I said as Jonathan nodded his head in agreement.

  Buzz, buzz, buzz. Jonathan’s two-way pager went off. As he opened his Sidekick, he began to laugh. “Man, my brother has nothing else to do,” he said as he finished reading the text.

  “Wait, you have a brother?” I asked, looking like someone had just slapped me in the face.

  “Well, he’s not my real brother. We’re very close and he just moved in with me recently.”

  “Is he cute? Hook a sista up.” I was sounding lik
e a horny old lady. But I didn’t care. Don’t get me wrong; in the words of the R & B singer Mya, I’m single, sexy and free, making my own money… Not to mention I had no kids, no drama and worked my ass off at least four times a week at the gym, trying to maintain my Coke-shaped body. I was proud to be me; I had my shit together in every part of my life except, you guessed it, the men department. I swear there must be a sign on my forehead that said, “If you’re a loser or you’re crazy, please come and holla at me.”

  I was eager to meet Jonathan’s play-brother because I figured a down-to-earth guy like Jonathan would have to have down-to-earth friends. How bad could this guy be? I thought to myself.

  “Oh no, Jamie, you don’t want to meet my brother,” he said before I could even plead my case. “He’s not right for you.”

  “Oh really? But is he cute?” I still began to play the odds as a joke.

  “Now, you know I can’t answer that.”

  I could never understand the way guys couldn’t answer the question whether a guy was cute or not. You didn’t have to be gay to answer a simple question about another guy’s looks. I could say yes or no if a girl was cute when a guy asked me.

  “Okay, answer this,” I said to Jonathan, trying to be slick, “when you guys go out, do a lot of girls try to holla at him?” This was my clever way of finding out if a guy was cute or not.

  “I don’t know, I guess.” Jonathan stumbled for an answer to my question. “I told you, Jamie, he’s not right for you. Man, just last month on Valentine’s Day, I came home and he had some chick over at the house.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” I interrupted him.

  “Nothing,” he answered, “but the next morning I noticed a hole in my living room ceiling. When I asked him how it got there, he told me the chick from last night wanted to give him a private pole dance as his Valentine’s gift.”

  “Wait, was she a stripper?” I once again interrupted.

  “No, she ain’t no damn stripper, but his crazy ass tried to install a ten-foot pole into my living room ceiling so she could dance for him.”

  I just busted out laughing. “You can’t be serious. I guess you’re right; he’s not my type. That’s crazy, what was he thinking?”

  “Man, who knows? I told you he wasn’t good for you, you got your shit together and, well, let’s just say he’s still exploring his life,” he said before answering his cell phone, which had been ringing for a while. It must have been important because our bonding time was over and I headed back to the motor home to finish working.

  “Jamie, Jamie,” Antonio shouted from the kitchen, waking me up from my little daydream. “How do you want your eggs?”

  “What?”

  “Your eggs, how do you like your eggs?”

  “Oh, hey, call me JR, and what are my choices?” I said, trying to be nice and not laugh at him, because I looked up and noticed the hole in the living room ceiling from the botched stripper-pole installation. All I could do was smile.

  “Forget it, I’m just going to put them in the microwave.”

  “Wait, what?” I jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “Eww, you’re putting the eggs in the microwave?”

  “I said I got this.” Toni shoved me out of the kitchen.

  “Jamie,” Jonathan shouted from upstairs, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “You good,” I shouted back. “Your brother is making me some breakfast.” I didn’t hear a response back from Jonathan. “Oh well, do you think he heard me?” I turned to Toni and asked him.

  He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know… what do you want to drink? Is orange juice okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s cool.”

  “Okay, here you go,” Toni said with a deep and confident tone in his voice like he just knew his breakfast was going to be the bomb.

  “Thank you,” I said as he walked my finished breakfast of a bagel with butter, microwaved eggs and orange juice over to me. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers, my mother used to always say, I said to myself as I took the plate from Toni. “Let me taste these microwave eggs,” I said to Toni, being sarcastic. They were decent but not better than stove-cooked eggs, but just the thought of someone making me breakfast was flattering.

  Jonathan finally came down midway into me eating my breakfast, just as Toni was heading upstairs.

  “I see you found yourself something to eat, like that’s a surprise.” For some reason Jonathan thought I ate a lot. That was only because the only time I saw him was when we worked with each other. “Come on, you eat a lot too when we work on production jobs. The food is consistent and it’s free,” I always told him.

  “No, as a matter of fact, your brother made this for me,” I said with confidence.

  “What? Toni, you making breakfast?” he yelled upstairs to Toni.

  “You crazy, man?” Toni yelled back from upstairs.

  “A’right, men, we getting ready to leave. I’ll holla at you in a few days when I get back,” Jonathan started yelling upstairs when Toni came walking downstairs.

  “You don’t have to yell, man… you guys have a safe trip, and it was nice meeting you, Jamie, I mean JR,” Toni said as he began putting his shoes on.

  “Thanks again for breakfast,” I said with a big smile on my face as Jonathan and I made our way outside.

  “Damn, Jamie, your car is packed,” Jonathan said as he tried to find a place in the car to stuff his garment bag.

  “I’m sorry”, I said as Jonathan began to walk to the trunk. “The trunk is also full. See if you can find a place in the backseat.”

  “Okay,” Jonathan said as he tried to stuff the bag into the backseat.

  “Can it fit?”

  “Yeah, I got it. You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Good-bye, Atlanta, and hello…”

  I was just about to say good-bye to the city I lived in for over seven years—four years at Clark Atlanta University and the last three years trying to make a professional name for myself—when Toni walked out of the house.

  “You guys drive safe and have a fun ride,” he said as he opened his car door.

  “Thanks, man,” Jonathan said as he was closing the back door. “Where you heading?” Jonathan asked Toni before he began to pull out of the driveway.

  “To the grocery store, you know we don’t have any food in the house,” Toni said while reversing his 2001 black Honda Civic with a big smirk on his face.

  I just busted out laughing.

  “What, what is so funny?” Jonathan asked as he began fastening his seat belt.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Only Ten Hours to Go

  “Hey, Jonathan, thanks, man, for helping me drive my car back to New York.”

  “You good, don’t worry ’bout it. I can’t believe you’re leaving Atlanta; how long—”

  “Seven long, hot years,” I said to him as I cut him off in the middle of his sentence.

  “Damn, seven years.”

  “Yup, I’ve been here since ’98, and I’ve done a lot within those seven years and I’ve grown and changed a lot. I am more mature,” I said jokingly.

  “Well, for the record, I’m going to miss you,” Jonathan said, pretending to wipe away a tear from his face.

  “Funny, very funny… but all jokes aside, I’m going to miss you too. Thanks for everything.”

  “No, man, thank you, you don’t know it, but you’ve helped me out a lot. My best freelance work came from you, not to mention my best paying work,” he said with a smile. “You never told me why you’re moving?”

  I took a deep breath and began telling him the reason. I figured we had about twelve hours to go and this could take a long time.

  “I figured it’s easy to leave Atlanta with no major responsibilities—no kids, no man—it’s a lot easier to pack up and go and start over when you have nothing holding you back. You feel me, right?”

  “I got you, that makes a lot of sense, but you’re moving with such short notice. Are you s
ure you’re not just running away from anything?”

  “No, I’m not running away from anything. I know it was short notice, but it had to be done. Remember when I asked you to ask your mother if she could find me a few buddy passes to fly home?”

  “Yeah, I remember, your father was sick, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry my mother didn’t come through on the tickets.”

  “Oh, it’s cool, I thought I would try.” After all, your mother has worked for Delta Airlines for over twenty years, why not? I thought to myself.

  “Man, I was flying home like every other week. My father has been in the hospital for, like, three months.”

  “Dammmmmn, I’m sorry to hear that. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s never going to be a hundred percent, but he is doing better.” That was always my answer to everyone when they asked about my father and his condition. I guess you could say I was a little bit embarrassed; besides, I had to uphold my so-called perfect image.

  “You never told me what happened to him; you just briefly mentioned that he had some kind of seizure, when you called asking about the tickets.”

  I took another deep breath and said, “Well, it’s kind of complicated. The last time I saw my father well was during Christmas at my older sister’s home in Austell, and he really wasn’t even that well. Three days after my parents left Jenifer’s home to go back to Brooklyn, I called my mother because I was trying to get a hold of my dad.”

  “Good afternoon, Ma, hope all is well?” I said politely to my mother on the phone. Have you spoken to Daddy? I’ve been calling him all morning with no answer.”

  “I tried to call him myself, but he didn’t answer his phone. I’ve been trying to call him since yesterday,” my mother said, sounding worried. My parents have been divorced for some time now, and tried to be civil and co-parents to my younger sister Jayla, so my mother often called my dad.

  “You don’t understand, Jonathan. My father and I have a very close relationship, he may not always pick up the phone for my mom, but he always picks up the phone for me. I was devastated; I called him about ten times that day and still no answer.”