Writer's Island

Writer’s Island

Writer’sIsland

Copyright©2017byTeresaD.Patterson Allrightsreserved.Thisbookoranyportionthereof maynotbereproducedorusedinanymanner whatsoever withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofthe publisher exceptfortheuseofbriefquotationsinabook review.

PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica

CHAPTERONE

Afterreadingthefirstpost,DontéHardy wishedhe’dsignedoutofhisaccountand loggedoffthecomputerbutcuriosityhad gottenthebestofhim,sohe’dkeptreading.Now, hisheartconstricted,andhealmostcouldn’tbreathe. Hiseyeswidenedanddamnnearbuggedoutof theirsocketsashereadpostafternegativepost.

“Hecallshimselfapublisher,buthe’snothing morethanacrook.”

I’mnotacrook.Fuckyoumean?

“He’snotamanofhisword,nottomentiona badbusinessman.Veryunprofessional.”

Howcanyoucallmeunprofessionalwhen you’repostingnegativeshitonmysocialmedia wall?Talkaboutthepotcallingthekettleblack.

“Thisnigganeedtopaymemydamnmoney!I ain’tseenaroyaltycheckyet."

I’mgoingtopayyou.You’rejustimpatient.We discussedthatissue,andyousaidyouunderstood. Sowhyareyoutryingtomakemelookbadnow?

Withaclenchedjaw,DontéHardyscootedhis chairbackfromthecomputerscreen.Hecouldn’t standtoreadanotherword.Hefeltasuddendespair spreadthroughouthischest.Hefearedhe’d hyperventilateifhedidn’tgethisemotionsunder control.Thepublishingcompanyhehadstruggled tobuildforthelastfiveyearswascrumblingdown aroundhim.Beforehiseyes,hislegacymightcrash andburn,withlittleforhimtodotostopit.

“Ishouldhaveneversignedthoseweak motherfuckerstomypublishingcompany,”hespat. “Igavethemachance,helpedtoputtheirnameand booksoutthere,andtheyturnonmelikethis.Fuck themall.Liketheysay,thesebitchesain’tloyal. Theydon’tdeservetobewithmypublishing companyanyway.LoyaltyPublicationswillgoon withoutthem.Afewmonkeysdon’tstopnoshow.”

Hiscellphonerang.Hisfacetwistedwhenhe answeredonlytohavehisauthor,Jaquan,bellowin hisear.

“Look,Donté,Ihavebeenmorethanpatient withyou,andaftersixmonths,mypatiencehasrun out.Ineedtogetpaid.Ihaven’tseennotone royaltycheckyet,bru.Notone.What’supwiththat? Eitherpaymeorgivemebacktherightstomy bookandstopmakingmoneyoffit.I’mtiredof yourassgettingrichoffofmyhardwork.Don’t makemeandmycrewtakearoadtrip.Trustme, that’snotsomethingyouwant.Youdon’twantto findouthowweroll,bru.”

Dontéjustlistenedtotherantwithminimal conversation.

Whenisthisniggagoingtocomeupforair?I bethe’spacingbackandforth,wearingaholein hisdamncarpet.

“Arewegonnahavetocomegetwhat’sowed tomeorwhat?”Jaquanhuffed.Dontécouldhear himbreathinghardovertheline.Insteadoftelling himtofuckoff,he’dtrytocalmhimdown.He didn’tneedJaquanandhisposseofjean-sagging thugsdoingadrive-byshootingonhiscrib.

“There’snoneedforthat,”hefinallysaid.“I’ll payyousoon.Ijusthavesomeredtapetosift throughandafterthat,you’llreceivearoyalty payment.Youhavemyword,”helied.

“Man,fuckyourword,”Jaquanswore.“Just cutthatcheck,nigga.”Hedisconnected.

Donte’sfootbegantotaponitsownaccord. Thetruthwas,hehadn’tpaidJaquanoranyofthe othertwentyauthorshe’dsignedtoLoyalty Publicationsinquiteafewmonths.Hecouldn’tpay thembecausehewasn’tabouttolettheIRSfuck himagain.Sincetheyhadrecentlygarnishedevery centthatwentintohisbankaccount,he’dhadto outsmartthem.He’dmovedthecompany’smoney intoasecretaccount.Hecouldn’tpayhisauthors fromthataccountbecauseifhedid,hefearedthe noseyassIRSwoulddiscoverit,too.Herefusedto letthemwipehimoutbecausehewasallergicto beingbroke.He’djusthavetogetusedtothe backlashfromdisgruntledauthorsuntilhegot thingsundercontrol.He’ddealwith them...eventually.Untilthen,hehadtoconvince otherstosignwithLoyaltyPublications,Inc.sohe couldkeepmakingmoney.He’dbecome accustomedtolivingaprettylavishlifestyle,andhe wasn’tabouttogobacktoaprisoncotandthree hots.Aslongashehadauthors,he’dhavesteady cashflowingin.

“Speakingofwhich,letmegetIsisonthe phone.Ineedhertosignthispublishingcontractso Icanreleaseherbooknextmonth,”hesaidaloud.

Isiswasyoungsoshewasn’taskingallthe questionssheshouldhavebeenaskingaboutroyalty payments,bookcoverdesign,editing,promotion, etc.Allshewantedwastoseeherbookinprint, which,bytheway,hiscompanydidn’tdo.They onlypublishedelectronicbooks..99cente-books werethecurrentfad.He’dcontinuetoprofitfromit untilthetrendworeitselfout,whichdidn’tseemto beanytimesoon.

Ittookhimalloftenminutestosweet-talkthe naiveyoungladyintoemailinghimherentire manuscriptinMicrosoftWordformatasan attachment.Heforwardedheracontractthatsheesignedandimmediatelyemailedbacktohim. BINGO.

“Got‘em,”hesaidandlaughedaloud.Hesent anemailtothecoverdesigner.Ofcourse,he’dhave Isis’sbubblegumandlollipopsoundingtitle changed.Heneededsomethingratchet,becausethe moreratchetthetitle,thequickeritwouldsale.

Confidentthatthedesignerwouldcomeup withaghettocovertomatchthebook,heposteda fewstatusupdatesonFacebookandTwitter introducinghisnewauthor,Isis.Assoonasthe coverhadbeencreated,he’dshareit,notbecause hewantedtohelptheauthorout;onlybecausehe knewhewouldgainfromdoingso.However,the gulliblelittleauthorwouldthinkhewaspromoting herbook.

Oncehe’ddonethattask,heforwardedthe manuscripttohisassistantsoshecouldsenditonto beformatted.Thatprocessshouldn’ttakenomore

thantwodays,dependingonhowbusytheir typesetterwaswithotherauthors.

Hesatbackandreadallthecommentstohis postandwatchedthe“likes”increase.Havingso manypeoplesupporthimgavehimlife.Itinflated hisover-sizedego,too.Hewasdominatingthe literarygame.He’dallbutpushedthetopNew YorkTimesbestsellingblackauthorsoffthegrid. Heknewtheyhatedhimforit,too,buthedidn’t care.Aslongashisnamestayedontheirlips,then he’dremainrelevant.

SpeakingofNewYorkTimesbestselling authors,heclickedontheFacebookpageoftheone authorheusedtoadmiretoseewhathehadgoing on.

Notadamnthing.

Helaughedaloud.EdmondThompsonwasa has-been,justawashed-upusedtobetop-selling author.

Howironicthatheusedtoadmirehim.He’d grownupreadinghisbooks;paidtopdollarforthe hardcovers.He’dwaitedinhighanticipationforhis nextbooktobereleased,too.Butthatwasathing ofthepastbecausewhenhe’dreachedoutto EdmondThompson,he’dbeendissed.Notonlyhad Mr.Conceiteddissedhim,he’dmentioned somethingslickonFacebookaboutit,too.He hadn’tmentionedanynames,butDontéknewwho he’dbeenreferringto.Hedidn’tappreciatebeing slightedbyanotherauthor,especiallyonehe’dhad nothingbutrespectandadmirationfor.Andforthat, he’dneverforgivehisex-favoriteauthor.

Mr.BigNamedAuthorcouldforevercontinue totalkabouthowheusedtobeanicon,howhe’d helpedtopavethewayforotherAfricanAmerican authors,andblah,blah,blah.Noone,especially DontéHardy,gaveashitaboutanyofthat. HestrolleddownEdmondThompson’spage andlaughedwhenheread,“mybooksweren’t writtenjusttoentertain.Theyallhaveamessage.” “That’snicetoknow.Butwhetherabookhasa messageornotisn’tpayingthebills,nowisit?” Dontésaidsmugly.“Eatmydust,youloser.”

HeclickedoffEdmondThompson’spageand browsedsomeoftheself-publishedauthors’pages. Hewasn’ttooconcernedaboutanyofthem.Alot ofthemcouldwritetheirassesoff,buttheycouldn’t competewithhim.Hehadthepowerof manipulationdownpatanddidn’thesitatetouseit. Aslongashecameacrossgullible,thirstyauthors whoweretoolazyortoodumbtodoresearch,he’d alwaysbeeatingwell.Meanwhile,theymightbe eatingRamenNoodlesandhotdogs,butthatwasn’t hisproblem,wasit?

He’dtoldhimselfwhilelockedbehindprison bars,whenhegotout,hewouldtaketheliterary worldbystorm,getontopandstayontop.He’d donejustthat,byanymeansnecessary.

HeclickedovertoAmazontoseeallthetop titlesintheAfricanAmericanfiction,urbanlife category.Thefirsttenbelongedtohisauthors. TitleslikeCoochieCoupon,ABadBitch‘BoutDat Life,ShortyGotaFatty,AThot’sChristmasWish andPussyonFleekleaptoutathim.Helaughedat

theridiculoustitles.Hecouldn’thelpit.Somewere downrightoutrageous,buttheydidthetrickand kepthisauthorsatthetop.Thatmeanthewasatthe top,too.

Hisphonerangagain,andhethoughtabout ignoringit.However,whenhegazedatthescreen, hesawthatitwashisliteraryagent.Hehadn’t heardfromhiminweeks,andfiguredhewas callingaboutmoney,justlikeeveryoneelse.

Hereallydidn’tfeellikedealingwithhim,but heansweredanyway.“Thecheck’sinthemail,”he lied.

“Hellotoyou,too,”LeonAndrewsdrawled.“I knowthecheck’snotinthemail.Evenifitwas,it wouldmostlikelybouncelikearubberball. Anyway,Ididn’tcallaboutthat.Listen.Ihave negotiatedadealforyou.Ifyouagreetoit,you’ll earnenoughmoneytogettheIRSoffyourass,pay yourauthors,andmostimportantly,payme.”

Intrigued,heasked,“Whatkindofadeal?” “Youhavetowriteafull-lengthnovelinthirty days.”

“Wait.ButIdon’twritebooksanymore,”he said.“That’swhatIpaymyauthorstodo.”

“NeedIremindyouthatyouhaven’tpaidsaid authorsinmonths?”Leonasked.Therewasa pregnantpausebeforehewenton.“Youcandothis, Donté.Youstartedoutwritinggreatbooks.Iknow it’sbeenafewyears,butI’msureyoucan rememberhowyouusedtoactuallybeapretty decentauthor.”

Donté’schestinflated.“Istillamadecent author;betterthanmost,”hebragged.“Ijustchoose nottodothatanymore.”

“Donté,youdon’thavemuchofachoice.If youwritethisbook,youhaveachanceofbeing signedtoamajorpublishingcompanyforatwobookdeal.They’llpayyousixfigures.”

“Howmuch?”heasked.Dontéalmostdropped hiscellphoneuponhearingtheamount,butquickly composedhimself.“Areyouforrealrightnow?”

“Yes.Iwouldn’tbullshityouaboutthis,”Leon assuredhim.

“Saynomore.WhatdoIneedtodo?I’m down.”

“Well-”Leonhesitated.“-there’saslight catch.”

Donté’sheartfellatthewords,butthethought ofsigningasix-figuredealheldhimcaptivated.He couldn’tpassitupwithoutknowingallthedetails.

“What’sthecatch?”heasked.

“YouhavetogotoaplacecalledWriter’s Island.It’sanactualislandlocatedsomewherein Florida.”

DonténoddedasifLeoncouldseehim.“That’s cool.Icandothat.”Forsixfigures,he’dswimto thatbitch.

“Er...”Leonclearedhisthroat.

“Uh-uh.Whatelse?”

“Youhavetostayonthisislandtheentirethirty daysandwrite.However,youcan’thaveany electronicdeviceswithyou.”

“Whatthefuck?HowthehellamIsupposedto writethen?”

“Onanoldtypewriter.”

“I’msupposedtopeckonafucking typewriter?”Thatwouldbequiteatask.He’dnever takenatypingclass.Hestilldidn’tevenknowthe homerowkeys.Hegotbypeckingwithtwofingers; itworkedforhim.Itwasn’tlikeheworkedasa transcriptionist.Hedidn’treallyneedtotype. That’swhathepaidotherstodo.Unfortunately,he wouldn’tbeabletoshelloutanycashtoget someonetohelphiminthisinstance.“Allright.I’ll figureitout,”hesaid.

“Itcanbedone.IthinkStephenKingstilluses anold-fashionedtypewriter,himorJames Patterson.”Leonwasjustpullingshitoutofhisass. Hehadnoclueiftheydidornot.Heneededto convinceDontétogoalongwithitsohecouldget paid.ItwashislastshotofgettingthemoneyDonté owedhimsoitwasworthatry.

“So,noelectronicsatall.NoTV,cellphone, tablet,laptop?”

“Nothing.NotevenanI-pod.Theywantyouto beintotalisolationsoyoucanconcentrateon writing,”Leonexplained.

“I’mgoingtohavetothinkaboutthis,Leon,” Dontésaid.

“Well,don’ttaketoolongbecausewhile you’rethinking,yourauthorsstillwanttogetpaid andsodoI.Callmebackassoonasyoumakeup yourmind.Takethisdeal,”hepersistedthenadded, “Don’tmakemehavetotakeyoutocourtifyou

don’t.”Hedisconnectedthecallwithoutsaying “goodbye.”

“Shit.”Dontésworeandthrewhiscellphone acrosstheroom.Hemadesureheaimedforthe leathercouchbecauseitwasthelatestexpensive iPhone6S.Withthetypeoffinancialproblemshe’d beenhavinglately,hecouldn’taffordtoreplacethe phoneifitgotdamaged.

HefiguredthatLeonAndrewswasstillsalty towardshimbecausehe’dgottensuedandhadto putastoppaymentonthelastcheckhe’dsenthim. Heowedhimandhadpromisedtopay.Ofcourse, he’dbeenfeedinghimfalsepromisesjustlikehe’d beenmakingtoeveryoneelse.Heunderstood Leon’sfrustration,buttherewasn’tadamnthinghe coulddoaboutit.Hejustneededtofocusandcome upwithaplan,onethatwouldn’tleavehimbroke anddesolateintheend.

Hegrabbedtheremoteandploppeddownon thecouch.ItwasonanepisodeofTheWendy WilliamsShow,butheswitchedovertoJudge MathisbecauseWendyirkedhim.Evenso,he wouldn’tmindbeingaguestonhershow.He’d comeoutwearingapairofhisalligatorshoesfor hershoecam.Thechancesofhimmakingittoher showwereslimtonone,though.Heshookhishead.

ThatHe-Manlooking,knobbykneedbitchgot itmade.She’sgettingpaidtotalkshitaboutother people.Itmustbenice.

Hegrimacedwhenherecalledarecentpicture he’dseenofheronFacebook.She’dbeenwearinga bikiniwhilevacationinginBarbados.Shehadletit

allhangoutwithnocareintheworld.Well,Black Twitterandeverybodyelsehadslaughteredher.She hadsomenervetoeveropenhermouthtotalk aboutanybodyelselookingalltoreuplikethat. Hecouldn’treallyknockWendyWilliams’ hustle.Controversysold.Sexsold.Ratchetnesssold. Thebookshepublishedwereaprimeexampleof that.Itseemedtheraunchierthetitle,themoreit sold.He’dforeverbegratefulthatthemodern-day readerswhogravitatedtowardshisauthors’books preferredsmut.

AfterJudgeMathisended,Dontégotbackon thecomputerandcheckedhisAmazonsalesreports. Lookingatthenumbersmadehimsmile.Hereally couldn’tcomplainwhenhewasgettingrichoffthe workofothers.

HetoggledoverandsearchedforflightstoLas Vegas.Whynotaddthehotelandrental,too?Itwas timetotakeatripandblowsomeofthemoneyhis authorshadearnedhim.

Whenhisauthorsdidn’twritefastenough,he hadaremedyforthat.He’djustgrabatopauthor’s book,copyandpasteittoWord,changethenames andcitiesandputhispennameonit.He’dalso revisethebookcover,assignthebookanewratchet titleandBAM,itwouldbeanotherAmazon bestsellingnovelpresentedbyRoyaltyPublishing. Hehadtobemorecarefulaboutdoingthat,in thefuture.That’showhe’dwoundupincourt.He’d underestimatedthewrongauthorandendedup payingouthisasstomakethingsright.He’dpulled aSteveHarveyandpaidthebitchtoshutupand

disappear.Noonewouldeverknowhisbookhad originallybeenhers.Moneytalkedandbullshit walked.

Assoonashe’dnippedthatprobleminthebud, theIRShadcontactedhim.Itwaslike,hecouldn’t winforlosing.HeneededtheIRStoleavehimthe fuckaloneaboutsomebacktaxesheowed.He lovedlivinghighonthehoganddidn’twant anythingtopreventhimfromcontinuingtodoso. However,ifhedidn’tpayhisauthorssoon,they couldmakethingsdifficultforhim.Uptothispoint, he’dbeenabletokeepthecriticismtoaminimum byignoringmostofitorrespondingtoitina nonchalantmanner.

Hethoughtabouttheofferhisagenthad presentedtohim.Thewayhesawit,hecouldn’t walkawayfromtheoffer.Hecouldn’tkeephiding moneyforever.Eventually,theIRSwouldcatchup withhimandgarnishthatmoney,too.Theywere likeabloodhoundtrailingawoundedjackrabbit. Theywouldnotbeignored.

Aknocksoundedonthedoor,sohegotup fromthecomputerandwenttoanswer.Ablack UPSworkerwithdreadswhostoodabout6feetand woreaboredexpressiononhisfaceheldouta clipboard.Dontéhadtosigninordertoreceivethe certifiedletter.Judgingbythethicknessofthe package,itprobablywouldn’tbegoodnews.He scribbledhissignatureandhandeditbacktothe mailman.Stillunenthused,theUPSguytoreoffthe receiptportionandhandedhimthethickletter.He didn’tevensayonewordthroughouttheentire

exchange.Dontéalmostpointedouthisrudeness, butletitgo.Hedidn’tneedfordudetogopostalon hisassbecauseheobviouslyhatedhisjob.Wearing allbrowncertainlyhadn’tmadehimcheerful,either.

Hisintuitionprovedtoberight.Theletterwas fromthebankthathadapprovedhimforhis mortgageloan.ItwasaNoticeofDefault.Heknew hewasthreemonthsbehindonthepayments,but onlybecausehedidn’thavequickaccesstohis moneyanymore.

Readingtheofficiallettergavehimaheadache. Hestuffeditinthemiddledrawerofhisdeskwhere hekeptallofhisjunkmailandunpaidcreditcard bills.He’ddealwithitlater.

Heheardasignalemanatingfromhiscomputer lettinghimknowhehadamessageinFacebook chat.Hecheckedandsawitwasfromhisassistant, Gabrielle.SheadvisedhimtocallherASAP.

“Whatmorecangowrong?”hewondered aloud.Heshouldn’thavevoicedthatquestionaloud. Anytimeyouasktheuniversewhatmorecango wrong,theuniverseanswerswithevenmore problems.

Hestalkedbackovertothecouchwherehe’d thrownhiscellphone,movedafewpillowsand retrievedit.Hesawhehadthreemissedcallsfrom Gabrielle.Hehitthecallbutton.“What’sgoing on?”heaskedassoonassheanswered.

“Donté,thisisnotgood.I’vecheckedyour emailsandyougotonefromAmazonand SmashwordsaboutShortyGotaFatty.Itsays

somethingaboutacopyrightinfringementandboth siteshavetakenthebookdown.”

“Whatthefuck?”heexclaimed“That’smy bestsellingbookrightnow.”

“Iknow,butuntiltheissueisresolved,they won’tputitbackup.”

Dontétookadeepbreathandblewitoutloudly. “Okay.I’llthinkofsomething.Ijusthavetoomuch onmyplaterightnowtoworryaboutitatthe moment.”

“Okay.JustthoughtI’dtellyou.Oh,and anotherthing.Igotthemanuscriptyousentme fromIsis.Sowhatdoyouwantmetodoaboutthe editing?”

“Er...havesomebodylookitover.Ihavea deadlineandsendingittotheeditorwillcauseme nottomeetit.”

“But,Iglancedoverhermanuscript,andshe’s notthestrongestwriter,Donté.Imean,the grammaticalerrorsarejustleapingoffthepage. Thetenseswitchesup.Shemisusestheirandthere. Areyousurealook-overisgoingtocutit?”

Dontécouldfeelaheadacheforminginhis temples.“Gabrielle,Ireallydon’tgiveashit,”he bellowed.“Ijusttoldyou,Igottoomuchgoingon rightnowtoworryaboutallthat.Putaposton Facebookaskingforsomeavidreaderstobebeta readers.Offerthemsomefreebooks,giftcardsand shit.Makesuretheydon’tgoovertwoweeks.I havetopublishthisbookbeforethismonthisout.”

“But—”

“Noifs,andsorbuts,justdoit.”He disconnectedwithoutwaitingforherresponse.

“Shitisfallingapart.Ihavetodosomething.I can’tjustletithappen.”Hebegantopacebackand forth.Finally,hestoppedpacingandcalledLeon Andrewsback.“I’lldoit,”hesaid.“I’llgotothe islandandwrite.Whenisthisgoingdown?”

“Thefirstofthemonth,”Leonsaid. Shit.ThatmeansLasVegaswillhavetowait. No,problem.Hehadn’tbookedtheflightand hotelyetanyway.

“Allright.I’llbeready.”

“Youmadetherightdecision,Donté,”Leon toldhim.“Let’smakethismoney.”

“Yeah.Let’sdothat.AssoonasIpayyourass off,I’mfiringyou,”hesaid.“Youget15%for sittingonyourasswhileIdoallthework.”

“Areyoufuckingserious?”Leonretorted.“All whatwork,Donté?Youknowwhat?We’renot goingtoevenhavethisconversation.Justremember, I’vebeenworkingwithyoulongenoughtoknowa fewofyourdirtylittlesecrets.Don’ttalkshittome whenI’vebentoverbackwardsforyourass.You justnevertakemysuggestionsintoconsideration becauseyou’dratherdounder-handed,sneaky things.Butlikethesayinggoes,“What’sdonein thedarkwillalwayscometothelight.”Sobe carefulwhoyoucrossinthisindustry.Iknowalot ofsnakesinthisbusiness,butyouarebyfarthe snakiestoneofthemall.”NowitwasDonté’sturn togethungupon.

Onceagain,heflunghisiPhoneacrossthe room.Thistime,itmissedthecouchandslammed intothewall.

“Damn.”Whenhepickeditup,hesawthatthe screenwascracked.“Fuckaduck,”heswore.How wouldhebeabletoperpetratebeingaballerwitha damagedcellphone?Hecouldn’tdoit.He’djust havetoforkoverthemoneyandgetitfixedpronto. Hehadtodoitbeforehehittheclublaterthatnight.

Hegrabbedhiskeysoffthecoffeetableand headedouttotheJaguarXFhehadparkedoutfront inthecirculardriveway.Itwasa2010,butitwas stillsweet.He’dpaid$55,000cashforit,andhe loveddressingupallflyandpostingpicturesof himselfmodelingontopofit,infrontofitandinit onInstagramandFacebook.Itmadethehatershate himtentimesmoreandthewomenwanthim,even iftheycouldn’thavehim.

HelovedhisJag,hisBMW,andhisMercedes. TheBeamerandtheBenzwerenewermodelsand weren’tpaidfor,yet.Ifhedidn’thurryandsettle hisfinancialaffairs,abigbitchlikeBernicefrom SouthBeachTowwouldhavehisshitjackedup readytohauloff.

AshesatintheJaghecontemplatedwhatit wouldfeelliketoloseeverythinghehad.Forquite afewyears,he’dbeenlivingthegoodlife.He glancedouthiswindshieldtostareathishouse.It wasn’tamansion,butitwasn’tqualifiedtobelisted onSection8,either.Ithadfivebedrooms,threeand ahalfbaths.He’devenhadaheatedunderground poolinstalledoutback.Hedidn’thavetotakehis

daughtertotheparkbecauseshehadherown playgroundequippedwithswings,aslide,asee-saw andamerry-go-round.Shealsohadatrampoline andanoutsideballpitforolderkids.Inaddition, sheownedeverytoyhecouldimagineaneightyear-oldwouldwant;aDisneyMinnieMouseHot RodCoupe,abicycle,skates,amotorizedscooter, tonsofdollsandotherfigurines.Hecouldn’tbarely walkintoherclosetbecausehe’dcrammeditsofull ofclothes,coats,bootsandshoesforalittlegirl.He kneweveryonethoughthespoiledher,butitwas hiswayofmakingupforlosttime.Afterall,he hadn’tbeentherethefirstsixyearsofherlife.

Heexhaledashethoughtaboutplacinga‘For Sale’tagoneverythingheownedandhavingayard sale.

“Nowayinhell,”hesaidaloud.“Mybabyis goingtokeepeverythingIboughtforher.AndI’m keepingallmyshit,too.Ijusthavetowritethis book,makethismoney,andI’llbebackontop.”He nodded.“Now,letmegogetthisphonefixed.”He turnedthekeyintheignition,backedoutofthe drivewayandheadedinthedirectionofthecell phonerepairshop.

Dontéwantedtoforgetaboutthebaddayhe’d had.Aftergettinghiscellphonescreenfixed,he calledoneofhiscurrentwomen,Donna.

“Hey,sweetheart?It’sbeenawhile.I’vebeen thinkingaboutyouandwouldliketotakeyououtto dinner.”Ofcourseitwasalie.Hehadn’tgivenher asecondthoughtsincethelasttimethey’dfucked.

Hejustwantedtomakeherfeelspecial.“Areyou hungry?”heasked.

“Actually,Ijustfinisheddoingmyyoga workout,andIwasabouttopopameatloafinthe oven.So,yes,I’mstarving,”shesaid.

“Howaboutyouputthatmeatloafawayfor anotherdayandgetdressed?HowdoestheOlive Gardensound?”

“YouknowIloveseafood,soitsounds lovely,”Donnasaid.

“We’llgodancingafterweleavetheOlive Garden.Somakesureyouwearsomeheelsthatare nottootight.Don’thaveyourtoesallscrunchedup inashoethat’stwosizestoosmall.”

Donnacackledlikeahenatthecornyjoke.“I thinkI’llwearmyGianvitoRossialligatorpumps. They’llbeperfectfordancing.Ineedtobreakthem inanyway,”shesaid.

Dontépridedhimselfinbeingfamiliarwith women’sfashion.Heknewthatparticularpairof shoescostaround$6,000.HethoughtofDonnaasa bougiebitchwhocravedthefinerthingsinlife. However,shedeemedherselftheindependenttype whodidn’tneedamanforanything.Itsuitedhim justfine.Thatmeant,hecouldsavealotofmoney tospendonthegreedy,gold-diggingtrampshe lovedtogetfreakywith.However,Donnawasa goodfuck,andhewantedtogetinthatpussybefore thenightended.Itwouldonlycosthimadinnerand afewdrinksthankstoherindependence.

“I’llpickyouupat8o’clock,”hesaid. “I’llseeyouthen.”

DontéandDonnasatinVIPchilling.Hedrank Hennessyontherockswhileshenurseda Cosmopolitan.Theyhaddancedtoafewsongsthey liked,butkeptgettinginterruptedbywomenDonté knew.EventhoughDonnadidn’tsayanything,he couldsenseherdispleasure,butheshruggeditoff. Hecouldn’thelpbeingpopular.Somanywomen recognizedhimfromthebookshewroteand publishedandfromthedifferentsocialmedia platformshebelongedto.Whentheysawhim,they wantedtogivehimahugortalkaboutwhat happenedinhisbooks.Someevenaskedtotake pictureswithhimsotheycouldpostthemtomake theirfriendsenvious.Hecouldn’tberudetohis readers,soheobligedthem.Besides,helovedbeing thecenterofattention.

Aftertakingpictureswithagroupofhyped-up womenoutcelebratingabirthday,Dontéfinallysat downtoconversewithDonna.Shehadbeen watchinghimflirtwiththeladiestheentiretime andhadtriednottorollhereyesatthefemales behavinglikehussiesoratDontéenjoyingit.Did theonewomanreallyneedtobendovertotakea picturewithhim?Andtheotheronejustthrewher legonhisshoulder.Shewasflexible,butthatwas stillabitmuch.Itleftherwonderingwhohad raisedsuchlowermoralskanks?

“Whathaveyoubeendoingwithyourself, Donna?”heasked.“Youlookgood,bytheway.” Heknewthrowingheracomplimentwouldmake herforgettobeupsetabouttheotherwomenvying forhisattention.Itworked.

“Oh,thankyou.”Donnaactuallyblushed.“I starteddoingyogaandnowIwonderwhyIdidn’t doitsooner.Itworkswonders.”

Henoddedashiseyestookinherluscious breaststhatseemedtopouroutofthelowcut jumpsuitshewore.Thestretchmaterialhuggedher widehipsandcaressedherhugebutt.Helickedhis lips.“Itsuredoes.Icouldjustdevouryouright now,”heteased,causinghertoblushagain.

“Stopit,Donté.”Shegiggledlikeateenager. “How’sthebusinessgoing?”heasked, changingthesubject.Hereallydidn’thavetosweet talkDonnatogetinherpanties.Sheprobably hadn’thadanydicksincethelasttimethey’dbeen together.Helovedfuckingherbecauseherpussy stayedtight.Itwasn’tallwornoutandloosefrom overuselikesomeoftheslutshedealtwith.

“Thingsaregoingreallywell.I’mgladyou convincedmetobecomeavirtualassistant.I’ll admit,atfirst,IthoughtI’dnevergainanyclients. Now,notevenayearlater,Ihavesomany,I sometimeshavetoturnjobsdown.I’mactuallyin needofanassistantmyself.”

Asthenightworeon,theycontinuedtochat aboutavarietyofsubjects.Donnawasinthemiddle oftellinghimwhyshenolongerwatchedreality televisionwhenQuisha,oneofhisformerwomen, enteredandspottedthemtogether.Withadeep frown,shestormedovertothecoupleandmushed Dontéintheforeheadwithherindexfinger.

“Holdup,Quisha.Don’tbeputtingyourhands onmeorwe’regonnahaveproblems,”Donté warned.

“Whothefuckisthisbitch?”Quishademanded toknow,wagginganacryliccoveredclawatDonna. Dontéintervened.“Quisha,don’tcomeupin VIPstartingnoshit.Youdon’tneedtoknowwho I’mwith.ItoldyouImovedonandyouneedtodo thesame,”Dontésaid.Hehadn’tseenQuishain almostamonthandthoughthe’dmadehismessage clearthelasttimethey’dtalked.Obviously,Quisha thoughtdifferently.

“Soisshethereasonyoutoldmeyoudon’t wantmenomore?”Quishaasked.

“No,shehadnothingtodowithmeleaving you.That’sallonyou,Quisha.”

Hedidn’twanttohurtherfeelingsinfrontof Donnabytellinghershewasadeadfuck.Somany menhadbeeninsidehervaginathey’dknocked downthewalls.Fuckingherwaslikefuckinga bottomlesspit.He’dcouldn’tevenpretendhe enjoyedit.Godhadn’tblessedhimbelowthewaist likehe’ddonesomeothermen.He’donlybeen equippedwitha5-inchpenis.Quisharequireda12inchbrother.Hecouldn’tbuytheextraseveninches necessarytostickwithher.He’dhadtothrowinthe towel.

“Whoisshe?”Quisharepeated,butDontécut hiseyesandrefusedtospeak.Quishasuckedair throughherteeth.“Ifyouwon’ttellmewhosheis, I’llaskthebitchmyself.”Quishagotintheother woman’sface.“Whothefuckareyou?”

“Idon’thavetoansweryou,”Donnasaid, stirringherdrinkandavoidingeyecontactwiththe angrywoman.

“Yougonnatellmesomething,bitch.”Quisha leaneddowntostareDonnarightintheeye.Their facesweresoclose,hadeitherpuckeredtheirlips, theywouldbekissing.

Dontéchosethatmomenttogetupfromthe tableandwalktothebar.Hewasn’tabouttogetinbetweentwosquabblingwomenandendupwith scratchesinhisface.He’dmadethatmistakebefore andhadlearnedfromit.

HewatchedfromacrosstheroomasQuisha grabbedhisdatebythehairandbegantopullit.“If you’reupintheclubwithmyman,youcanatleast bepoliteenoughtointroduceyourself,hoe.”She spokeloudenoughforeveryonetohear.Donnahad nowayoutofaconfrontation.Shecouldn’tjustsit thereandbeattackedwithoutdefendingherself.

Donnadidthefirstthingshecouldthinkof. ShepunchedQuishainoneofherfakebreasts.

“Ouch.Whatthefuck?Youjusthitmeinmy titty.Youjustmad‘cuztheyain’tsagginglike yours,youoldbitch.It’sonnow,”Quishasaid.

Thattime,shegrabbedDonna’shairwithboth hands.Sheendedupsnatchingmostofherweave out.Crochetbraidslitteredthefloorbythetimetwo largesecurityguardspulledthewomenapart.Of course,peoplestoodaroundlaughingandrecording itontheirphonesforWorldStarorwhateversocial networkwouldgetthemthemostcommentsorlikes untilsecurityescortedthewomenout.

Leftwithnodate,Dontésatatthebarnursing hisHennessy.Oneoftheladieshe’dtakenpictures withearlierslidontothestoolnexttohim.

“Soyougotwomenfightingoveryoulikethat, youmustbedoingsomethingright,”shesaid. Dontéshrugged.“Ijustbemyselfbecause that’stheonlypersonIcanbe,”hesaid.

“Ithinkyou’rebeingmodest.HowaboutIgive youmynumberandyoucallme?I’llbemorethan happytofindoutjustwhatitisthatmakesthe womengocrazyoveryou,”shesaidandwinked, slidinghimabusinesscard.

Thisbigforeheadheiferisbold.Sheain’tmuch tolookat,butshegotanicebody.It’sagoodthing thatpussydon’thaveaface.I’llfuckherwiththe lightsoff.

“I’lldefinitelyhityouupsometime-”he glancedatthecard,“-Shannon.”

“Youdothat,”shesaid,smilinghardathim likehewasahugepieceofgovernmentcheese. Hegulpeddowntherestofhisdrinkand headedoutoftheclub.

Hedidn’tthinkhisnightcouldgetworse,butit did.Hestoppeddeadinhistracksandthrewuphis handswhenhearrivedathiscar.Oneoftheangry womenhadthrownacontainerofcheesefriesathis windshield.Thegooeymessdrippeddownthe window,leavingastickytrail.Theoverturned containerrestedonhishood.Hisguesswouldbe Quishawastheculprit.Herghettoassalways orderedcheesefrieswhenevertheywentout.She’d

probablyhadsomeinaStyrofoamcontainerstored inhercar.

Ishouldn’tbesurprisedbythebehaviorof theseunsophisticatedthots,hethought,asheflung themessfromhiscarontotheground.Hegotinhis car,startedtheengineandpushedthewindshield washerbutton.Mostoftheresiduewashedaway. He’dstillhavetogothroughacarwashtogetthe windowbacksparklingcleanthewayhelikedit. He’ddothatthenextday.

Hesatinthecarcontemplatinghisnextmove. He’dreallyhadhismindsetondickingdown Donnathatnight.Maybehecouldstillmakethat happen.Hecalledherandtriedtoapologizeforthe incidentthathadtakenplaceintheclub.

“Look,baby,I’msorryaboutwhathappened tonight,”hesaidassoonasDonnaanswered.“I didn’tknowQuishawasgonnashowherasslike that.I’llpaytogetyourhairre-braidedorsewedin oryoucangetalacefrontorwhateveritisyou womenwear.”

“Donté,don’tevenworryaboutit.I’mnot aboutgamesandjustdon’twanttodealwithyou anymore.Iamtoogrowntobefightingwithyour ghettobitchesinaclub.Youdidn’thandlethatlike aman.Youdidn’tevencomeoutsidetoseeifIwas okayafterthebouncersthrewmeout.Ihadtocalla cabtogethome.Idon’thavetimeforthatmess.I amdonewithyou,”shesaid.

“Bitch,fuckyouthen,”heyelled.“Youdon’t gettoleaveme.I’msupposedtoleaveyou,hoe. Youwasjustapieceofassanyway.”

“Well,it’sapieceofassyouwon’tbegetting anymorewithyourlillimp,marshmallow-sized dick,”sheinsulted.“Youactlikearealbitch,Donté. Goodriddance.”

“Youwasn’tcomplainingaboutallthemoneyI spentonyouthough,wasyou?”

“Donté,youdidn’tspendshitonme.Ihavemy ownmoneyanddon’tneedyouforanything.All youdidwaspayforafewmeals.Getover yourself,”shesaid.

“Forthepriceofadinner,Igottocumall downyourthroat,younastytrick.Gobacktothem brokeassniggasyouletcuminyourfaceforfree, hoe,”heyelled.Hewassoangryspittleflewoutof hismouthandhitthescreenofhisphone.“Whothe fuckdoyouthinkyou’retalkingto,Donna?”He wantedtowraphishandsaroundherthroat.She wasluckynottobestandinginfrontofhim.She wouldhavegottenherassbeatthatnight.Itmade hisbloodboilwheneverawomandisparagedhis manhood.

Atriageofwomenleavingtheclubpassedby andlaughedathisoutburst.

“Whatthefucky’allchubbybitcheslaughing at?”heroaredoutthewindow.“Lookinglikey’all modelforSection8andWIC,”heinsulted.

“No,hedidn’t,”oneofthewomensaid. “Fuckthatshortassnigga,”herfriendsaid. “Helooklikeatrollanyway.”Theylaughedsome

moreandkepthigh-steppingintheirshort,tight dressesandsix-inchstilettos.Theyhadafewrolls thatagirdlecouldhavecomplemented,butthey’d chosentoletitallhangout.Somebodywouldlikeit evenifDontédidn’t.

Afterthewomenpassed,heturnedhisattention backtohisphoneconversation.“Donna,areyou stillthere?”

Sheletoutadeepsigh.“Yes,Iam,even thoughIdon’tevenknowwhy.”

“I’msorryaboutlosingmytemperand insultingyou.Quishajustgotmeupset.I’llmakeit uptoyou.”

“Donte...”

“Please,”heinterrupted.“Baby,yousure you’rereadytogivethistongueup?Rememberthe multipleorgasmsyouexperiencedthelasttime? Don’tyouwantthatagain?”

“Nicetry.Buttheyhaveavibratorthatcando allofthatandmore,”shesaid.

“You’dratherfuckwithatoythanthereal thing?”

“Yesbecauseatoyisn’tattachedtoasmuch bullshitasyouare.Ilikeyou,butIjustcan’tdeal withallthedramaanymore.Thelasttimewewent somewhere,oneofyourexsthreatenedtocutme, andyoudidn’tevenstepinandputherinherplace. Idon’ttrustthatyou’llhavemybackinsituations likethisbecausesofaryourtrackrecordhasshown thatyoudon’t.Ican’ttakeachanceonbeing accostedbyyourpsychotic,recklessfemales

anymore.I’mdone.Haveagreatlife,Donté. Goodbye.”Withthat,sheendedtheirconversation.

“Shit.Thissadityassbitchgotalotofnerveto endthingswithme.I’llhavesomeflowers deliveredtohertomorrow,andIguaranteeshe’llbe raisingherfeetuptowardsheavennextweek.After IhitthatonemoretimethenI’lldumpherass,”he saidwithasmugsmirk.

Obviously,smashingDonnathatnightwasn’t goingtohappenthankstoQuisha.Hisdickwas hard,andhedidn’twanttogohometoanempty houseandblueballs.

WhocanIslidemydickintonight?Oh,yeah,I knowexactlywhoIcanhitupthislateandstillget invitedover.

Hecalledoneofhisauthorswhodidn’tlivetoo farawayfromtheclubandarrangedtostopbyher place.Hedidn’treallyfeellikelookingatherrolls offat,butwhenhethoughtabouthermouthpiece, herobesitycouldbeoverlooked.

Oneoftheadvantagesofbeingapublisherwas theamountofpussyhecouldgetjustforapromise. He’dsleptwithseveralofhisfemaleauthorsjust becausehecould.Hedidn’tcareaboutanyofthem. Whenhehadtheirlegswrappedaroundhisneck makingthemscreamhisname,hefeltlikeGod.It wasjustanotherformofmanipulation.Whenthey startedinquiringabouttheirroyalties,he’djustdick themdownandshutthemup.

Himsleepingwithhisauthorshadcausedastir amongstthem.Hecouldtellbytheirpostsinhis Facebookgroup.They’dtakelittledigsateach

otheronthesly.Hejustsatback,watchedand laughed.Ifoneofthemaskedifhewassleeping withanotherone,he’dbrushitoff.Heknewnotto everlethisrighthandknowwhathislefthandwas doing.

He’dformedanonlinecommunitythatthought veryhighlyofhim.Hisauthorswerealwaysposting howgratefultheywerethathe’dmadetheirdreams ofbeingapublishedauthorcometrue.Evenhis readerspostedonhispagehowtheylovedthefact hegavepropstoothersanddidn’tjustthinkabout self.Hehadthemallfooled.

HesmiledashepulledintoChandra’s driveway,nexttoherdentedupSaturn.Sheshould havebeendrivingaMercedesorbetter,buther dreamsforsuccessjustwasn’tbigenough.

Chandrawasn’tmuchtolookat,beingtopheavyandshapedlikeanextralargemeteorite,but shegavesomefirehead.Herheadgamewasthe mainreasonhehadn’talreadydumpedher.Tobe honest,shewasamongstthefewofhisauthorswho actuallycouldwritewell.Whensheagreedtosign withhispublishingcompany,heknewhe’dlucked uponagoldmine.Notonlywerehernovelscatchy, shewrotefasterthananyauthorinthegame.She hadasix-bookseries,andtheyallstayedatthetop ofthebestseller’slist.Ifshehadn’tbeenstupidand signedwithhim,shecouldhavepaidforanewcar andmovedintoabetterplacebynow.

Chandrawashisnumberonecashcow,but lately,she’dbeengettingtooclingy.Tonight,he’d

havetomakesuresheunderstoodthetermsoftheir relationship,mainly;theyweren’tinone.

HesawChandra’sbedroomlightcomeonand momentslater,shecrackedopenthefrontdoorand peeredout.Heexitedthecarandclimbedthefew stepstoherapartment.Hecouldtellbythewayher eyesshonewhenshelethiminshewascatching feelings.Itwastimetocutherofflikeanamputee.

Ashefollowedhertowardthebedroomshe said,“Donté,IwasonFacebookearlierandsome peopleweregoingoffonyou.Whatdidyoudo?”

“It’snothingtoconcernyourselfwith.Justa fewdisgruntledex-authors.Youknowhowthatis. Whentheynolongerwriteforyou,theywantto starttearingyoudown.”

“That’sjustashamebecauseyouhelpsomany peoplegettheirbooksout.Ifitwasn’tforyou,I’d stillbetryingtofigureoutwhattodo.”Shedropped herrobeandtriedtostrikeasexyposeinher lingerie.Hehadtohidehisgrimacebecauseshe resembledababyManatee.

Yourassneedtofigureouthowtoloseabout fiftypounds,butIain’tgonnasaynothing.I’lljust sipthisteainmyhead.

“Um,canyouturnthelightout?”heasked. “Oh,mybad.Sorry.Iforgot.”Shewalkedover andflickedtheswitch.He’dpreviouslytoldherhis eyesweresensitivetolight.Thetruthwas,hedidn’t wanttolookatherobesebodywhenhefuckedher. Herrollsoffatturnedhimoffandmadehisdick shriveluplikearaisininthesun.Inthedark,he didn’thavetoseeallofherfatshaking,wiggling

andjiggling.Hecouldpretendhewaspounding JanetJacksonorBeyoncè,whichisexactlywhathe did.HehadChandraclawinghisbackandbawling upthebedsheetsasshecalledouthisname.Hefelt morepowerfulwitheachthrust.Hetriedtobeatthe breaksoffbecauseheknewitwouldbethelasttime hefuckedher.Inasense,itwasagood-byefuck. OnlyChandradidn’tknowit.