Love Never Dies

By Gwen Gilliam

“Love Never Dies” is a love story, suspense, thriller that centers on Simone Hunter, an expatriate from London, who moves to Chicago, the Windy City, to find herself. On a rainy afternoon in Wicker Park, an artsy neighborhood on Chicago’s near West Side, Simone has a chance encounter with West Davenport, a drop-dead gorgeous culture critic for a local newspaper. To men, he is a man’s man. To women, he is a dream come true. To every woman except Simone, it seems. Simone is a beautiful woman, turning heads wherever she goes. West is not her only suitor. Much of the story takes place at “The Bop Shop,” a neighborhood jazz club that West and his cosmopolitan friends frequent. They embrace and encourage Simone to live her life fully and freely. Only time will tell whether Simone will find herself, and the temerity and heart to live and love again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gwen Gilliam
• Release date: Dec 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301628360

Gwen Gilliam

Gwen Gilliam is a first time novelist and resides in Maryland where she teaches and continues to write.

Book preview

Love Never Dies

By Gwendolyn Gilliam

LOVE NEVER DIES

Copyright: Gwendolyn Gilliam

Published: 24th December 2012

Publisher: Gwendolyn Gilliam

The right of Gwendolyn Gilliam to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to my mother, Dorothy Lorraine Bishop, my father, Leonard Gilliam, my brother, Joseph, and my God, from whom all blessings flow.

Preface

This story began at an Oscar Awards party in Chicago. The year was 1993. Two of my favorite actors were up for an award. Only one could win. I decided to write a screenplay for the one that didn’t. Thus, Love Never Dies was born.

Ernest Hemmingway advised that writers should write the truest thing they know. My film teacher advised the same. And so I set out to write a movie, but it wrote itself as stories often do.

How many times have we chased a dream and turned our backs on it only to live in a state of discontent? Love Never Dies is the story of Simone Hunter who dared to dream. In the process of writing Simone’s story, I lost and found myself. And I can tell you truly that Love Never Dies.

Prologue

How many times have we chased a dream and turned our backs on it only to live in a state of discontent? Love Never Dies is the story of Simone Hunter who dared to dream.

Chapter One

Everything we want, we already have.

It was a lovely fall day on Chicago’s South Side. Hyde Park to be exact. Dotted with buildings of noble architecture, harkening a time when people walked slower, but with a steady beat, they ambled along in long coats of gray, brown, black, navy or taupe, clasping them close to their bodies to ward off the wind. It was of many things. It was a place where one could get lost and then found.

Hyde Park was a smart place, a hip place where the intelligentsia lived. Simone had had enough of smart. She grew up in the shadow of London’s Oxford University. What she wanted more than anything now was a chance to be sinewy -- to move and stand on her own. To stretch her dreams to its limits. She just wanted to be.

And so there was Simone’s ritual: a bubble bath surrounded by white candles. The more she worked on her song, the more the candle lights flickered as she sang its lyrics. It was as though the flames were in agreement with her.

To Simone, Hyde Park was a world unto itself -- peaceful and quiet -- no police or fire sirens to interrupt her thoughts. Walking the streets at night without fear was a regular event for her. The area was a safe haven. Too safe it seemed to be part of urban America. Unless one was interested in conversations on existentialism or economics, it could be downright boring. But, Simone didn’t come to the United States for those kinds of conversations. She came for a new life and a little amnesia.

The bathroom made Simone fall in love with the three-story walkup that she found after staying in a hotel for three weeks when she first arrived. It had a claw-footed bathtub surrounded by tiny old-fashioned black and white tiles. A silver radiator nestled against the eggshell colored wall that appeared to stare in disbelief at the fake shower, which was merely an inexpensive metal oval ring from which the white vinyl shower curtains dangled. The curtain was a gift from the landlord. And then there were the tall ceilings with mahogany crown molding that matched the window. Curtains weren’t really needed for the window because of the stained glass.

It was a charming place in an odd sort of way. Peering at the engraving on the spigot, Simone worked on her song until she was interrupted by a noise – a noise that sounded like a key turning. Instinct made her stop to listen.

Who's there? she cried out to dead silence.

Mikki? The front door closed followed by the click of a chain lock. Soon the sound of footsteps followed. It occurred to Simone that someone was walking down the hallway. Mikki, she called again. The sound of footsteps was replaced by silence. Who's there? she cried out as she watched the bathroom doorknob turn. Simone studied the small bathroom window that was oddly juxtaposed. Too far right. That was what she meant when she thought that the apartment was oddly charming. Why didn’t they move the bathroom window to the center instead of placing it off-center? It didn’t matter now because it was through the oddly placed window that she had hoped to escape. It was very narrow, perhaps too narrow for a quick getaway, but it was the only way out. There was nowhere else to run. The older buildings did not have lots of closets and when they did have closets because the people for whom they were built usually only had one or two dresses or suits. All of this contemplation became moot as the turning of the bathroom’s doorknob came to a halt.

Simone was right. It was Mikki; the roommate from hades. Her hair looked more bizarre today although it matched the biker clothes she wore.

Mikki! My God! You scared me, Simone said. Mikki had become more and more exasperating to live with. Mikki’s daily presence was like a drip of water that could not be stopped. While some people are self-absorbed, Mikki was hyper self-absorbed. Paying Simone no mind, Mikki began styling her hair in the mirror.

What did you do to your hair, Simone asked. And why can't you comb it in your room, Simone protested. I'm trying to take a bath for Christ's sake. Mikki put the lid down and took a seat on the toilet.

Simone, from the day you answered my ad for a roommate . . . I was ecstatic. I knew the moment that I laid eyes on you, that you were the one.

Simone was irritated. This was all she needed. She cut her off at the quick. Simone had never been what anyone could call homophobic. She was an artist afterall, more open than most people. But she didn’t see this coming. Well, I'm sorry Mikki. I don't go that way. I'm straight, she told her.

I'm straight, too, Mikki replied. Straight for girls, as though she had practiced her retort for just this moment.

Give me a break, Simone thought. "Well since we're sharing, there's something I'd like to share with you. I had noticed the