Victimized: Buchanan's Secret

By Brooklyn June L.J. Miller

Jason Buchanan seems like your average growing boy. The only son to Paula Buchanan, a bourgeois and overprotective mother with delusions of grandeur, he is sheltered from the real world by her in an attempt to ensure his success in life. But when tragedy strikes close to home, a secret he has kept hidden for years surfaces. The agonizing and embarrassing truth is Jason has been victimized and bullied for as long as he can remember and is a complete coward. The torment continues but when he meets a stripper named Magic and hears her heart-wrenching story, he is immediately drawn to her because they share a common denominator in being victims. Paula vehemently disapproves of his courtship and tries desperately to warn him of Magic’s intentions, then finds out a dark secret about her. While away in college Jason suffers another brutal beating but this one is the most humiliating of them all. What is the Buchanan's Secret? Will this heinous act be the breaking point for Jason’s fearful character? And will Paula tell Jason what she found out about Magic or will she allow him to be victimized once again? In the end, will anymore secrets be revealed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brooklyn June L.J. Miller
• Release date: Mar 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781311315748

Brooklyn June L.J. Miller

June is the published author of, This Game Has No Loyalty, an urban street fiction novel depicting real life on the streets and the love relationships within those parameters. His love of writing was first discovered in public school where he dazzled his teachers with his creative short stories and intriguing poems. His writing was acknowledged locally when it was featured in his graduating class’ yearbook. June abandoned his love for writing for the dangerous life on the streets of Brooklyn. His involvement changed from petty crimes to becoming a major distributor of illegal drugs out of state. During his tenure in these activities he was convicted and incarcerated. His time behind bars gave him new insight but when released on parole he went right back to the life that put him behind the barbed wire fences. All of his relationships were strained due to nature of his business. There was no stability in his life and the only person he was responsible for was himself. The birth of his first daughter changed the way he viewed life and he set out to change his existence. June did a complete 360° turn and enrolled into college to pursue his Associates Degree. His creative writing ability was again showcased in this setting and recognized by his English professors. While he pursued his degree, tragedy struck and one of his closest friends was brutally murdered. Not knowing how to deal with the loss he channeled his pain into something that came to him naturally, he wrote the story. The story stayed on his floppy disk for over 10 years until he came across it one day after the senseless death of another friend. When he read the contents it was still relevant and he decided to write a story that he hoped would reach the youth and somehow curb the violent crimes being committed in the poor neighborhoods. June began penning his novel This Game Has No Loyalty and incorporated his own experiences into his writing to produce the “realness” his story needed to capture his audience.

Book preview

Prologue

The faded blue Chevrolet Nova slowly pulled into an empty parking space about fifty feet away from the entrance of the small one story building. The four occupants sat patiently, no one saying a word as they all looked out the car window at the door to the building. A couple of minutes passed and a dusty brown four door Chrysler entered the parking lot and pulled into a parking space close to the entrance. The young woman driver exited her vehicle then disappeared inside the building. Five minutes later another car pulled in and parked next to the entrance of the building and another female driver exited and disappeared inside.

The driver of the Chevy Nova looked up at the clock directly above the building’s entrance that read just a little past 7:45. Just then a white Cadillac pulled into a designated parking space right in front of the building and the driver, a burly Caucasian male dressed in a blue suit, exited and retrieved a briefcase from the backseat of the car. He headed to the entrance of the building pulling out his keys as he approached the front door.

Excuse me sir, are you open yet? A woman asked from behind.

He turned around and was face to face with an unusually tall and unattractive black woman in an unsightly purple dress, black lace church gloves and wearing a black chiffon hat that partially covered her face.

No ma’am, we open at 9:00 am sharp.

Well that’s a crying shame because I need to make a withdrawal and it really can’t wait. The woman said in a brisk voice.

Well ma’am you’re just going to have to wait because we don’t open until 9:00 so come back in an hour. The man replied in a slightly aggravated tone turning around to insert the key into the door.

The woman inched up closer to the man who ignored her as he turned the key and pushed the door open. Once the door was ajar, the woman rushed behind the man and pushed him forcibly to the ground inside the bank and stood over him menacingly.

Wrong answer muthafucka, I’m making my withdrawal now!

Upon seeing their manager pushed to the ground and a big black woman standing over him, the white women clerk shrieked. Three other black women entered, two of them running straight to the shocked clerks and stuffing handkerchiefs in their mouths then tying their hands behind their backs. The other black woman retrieved the keys from the manager and locked the front entrance doors. The manager was hogtied by the black woman in the purple dress and a blue handkerchief was stuffed in his mouth. By the time the door was locked the quartet was making their way to the bank vault to empty it of its contents. They pulled on the handle but the vault didn’t open.

I thought you said it opened on a timer! The black woman in the purple dress shouted.

It’s supposed to. It’s supposed to be open now. What time is it? One of the women said looking down at her Bulova watch.

It’s fifteen minutes after 8, we only have forty five minutes before this bank opens for business!

The black woman wearing the purple dress ran over to the manager and snatched the handkerchief out of his mouth, What time does the fucking vault open!

It’s on a timer to open at 8:45. He said coughing.

Is there another way it can be opened before then?

N-n-no.

He was slapped viciously and dragged by his feet to the vault.

I’m gonna ask you one more fucking time before I turn you into plant fertilizer. Get this shit open now!

I c-c-can’t open it. Please, it’s on a timer, I have no control over that. The manager pleaded.

Grab one of those bitches and bring her over here to see if he’s lying. If he is, I’m gonna make him eat a bullet! The woman in the purple dress screamed.

One of the clerks was dragged into the vault area and the handkerchief and her ties were removed.

You have one chance to save this muthafucka’s life. Tell me how else we can get this vault open before 8:45. If you lie, you and this maggot die together!

Ok, ok, there’s one way. You have to manually change the time.

Do it now!

The clerk was pulled to her feet and went to the automatic timer and punched in a code.

I reset it to open in two minutes. She said covering her hands over her head.

In two minutes the vault opened and the women ran inside and started filling their oversized bags with stacks of money.

FOUR! Six minutes left! Grab as much as you can! The woman with the purple dress directed.

In exactly ten minutes all four women headed for the bank entrance. As they approached they saw a single police cruiser pulling into the parking lot.

Shit! The rest of you go out the back, I’ll try and distract them. The woman in the purple dress said as she passed her bag to one of the other women and smoothed out her dress.

The patrol car with two officers pulled up along side the bank entrance and slowed down. A distress signal from the bank had been sent and the officers were dispatched to check it out. Nothing seemed unusual to them as they exited their car until a black woman burst through the bank doors screaming, They’re robbing the bank! They’re robbing the bank!

The officers immediately drew their guns and pointed it at the woman rushing towards them waving her hands above her head frantically.

Stop where you are! the officers screamed.

The woman continued towards them continuing with her hysterical screaming, They’re in there robbing the bank! You have to stop them!

She stopped about ten feet from the officers and they walked up to her cautiously.

How many men are in there? one officer asked.

It’s two of them. Black men with guns. My granddaughter is in there too. Please help her. Please!

Stay here ma’am. We’re going to call for back up. Wait here for them! the officer said as he radioed the call then approached the entrance of the bank slowly. As soon as both officers went inside the bank, the woman ran to the Chevy Nova and snatched it into gear quickly driving to the back of the bank. The other three women were already standing on the side of the building then jumped into the car as it slowed down just enough for them to dive in.

Let’s get the fuck outta here! they screamed.

The woman in the purple dress stomped down on the gas and exited the parking lot, making a quick right turn. The car sped down the highway and turned onto a back road maneuvering through the thick brush until they reached an opening to a highway. The car entered onto the paved road, slowing down to the city speed limit. They passed through a green light as an oncoming police cruiser passed with sirens blaring. The driver looked in the rear view and when the cruiser didn’t turn around a sigh of relief could be felt throughout the vehicle. The car traveled twenty miles then turned down a dirt road to a deserted barn out in the country on Route 33 and pulled in behind it.

What the fuck happened back there Smitty? Ronald asked his partner when everyone was out of the car.

Man, I promise you that bitch told me the vault opened at 8:15. Smitty replied.

You promise? That fuck up almost got us pinched muthafucka! Ronald screamed as he removed the purple dress he was wearing.

I won’t make that mistake again boss. Smitty replied to Ronald as he too disrobed from the feminine garb he was wearing.

Ronald walked inside the barn and removed a cloth car cover from a black Lincoln Continental and grabbed a dark blue three-piece suit and a pair of black wing tipped Stacy Adams from the backseat. He dressed quickly and jumped into the car then carefully backed it out of its hiding spot careful not to kick up too much dirt. He got out of the car and emptied all the money into a big black burlap bag then opened the trunk of the Continental. The rest of the crew took their clothes from the backseat and got dressed while Ronald removed the spare tire and pulled open a compartment big enough to fit a dead body, placing the burlap bag inside then replacing the spare tire. The crew entered the car and Ronald pulled off onto Route 33 headed back to New York.

The Get Away Gang does it again. We home free boys. He said as they cruised safely towards I-95 North.

Chapter 1

Jason Buchanan

The Silver 2004 late model S500 Mercedes hugged the curves with ease while barreling down the FDR Drive heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Jason Buchanan was behind the wheel doing 75 mph dipping in and out of traffic like a NASCAR driver.

"Merge into right lane. Brooklyn Bridge Exit 1 mile." the monotone voice of the navigation system dispatched.

Jason stayed in the outer lane as other drivers on the highway steered clear of his erratic driving to avoid becoming victims to a vehicular accident. He turned up the volume on the Harman/Kardon audio system and blasted, Coming From by DMX featuring Mary J. as he swerved into the right lane and exited off for the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Places that I've been, things that I have seen 

What you call a nightmare, are what I have as dreams 

Bad as that may seem, I know its only going to get worse 

Love, a slug, which one am I gonna get first? 

My journey's been a rough one, I'm not sure when it begins 

But the way it's looking, I kind of know when it's gonna end"

The tires on the Benz gripped the bends on the exit ramp as Jason cut the wheel hard to the right and merged onto the Brooklyn Bridge. He never looked in his rear view or side view mirrors as he careened over the bridge heading for Brooklyn.

Telephone Mode he announced as the music automatically turned off. 3-4-7-5-5-5-5-5-5-5.

The phone rang loudly in the car as Jason held the steering wheel firmly with one hand and guided his car through the light traffic.

Hello? Jason’s wife answered when she picked up her cell phone.

Hey Shell…baby…I need to talk to you. Where are you right now? Jason replied calmly.

I’m just getting off work honey. I’m downtown about to go to BBQ’s with some of my co-workers. You want to meet me down here and have a drink?

No baby. I need to talk to you; I’m coming off the bridge, meet me by… he was interrupted.

Honey I can’t hear you too well. I hear sirens in the background. Michelle said.

Jason looked in his rear view mirror at the four police cruisers that were a car length behind him with sirens blaring and blue and red lights flashing.

Shell…they’re after me, that’s what I need to talk to you about. Jason maintained a calm voice as he spoke.

He exited off the Cadman Plaza exit anticipating a roadblock at the foot of the bridge.

WHAT! Michelle screamed into the phone.

I’ll be at that little park right by the bridge in five minutes, meet me there. With that, he disconnected the call.

The police cruisers kept a safe distance from the silver Benz as it exited off Cadman Plaza careful not to cause innocent drivers any casualties from the speeding driver. They had gone to Jason’s job to ask him questions about a murder that happened while he attended NYU but when they got there he was already in his car to leave. He spotted them and sped off. They followed him and attempted to do a traffic stop but when they put their lights on he didn’t pull over, instead he drove faster in an attempt to escape them, which led them up to the chase.

Jason could feel the vibration on his hip from his cell phone ringing. He didn’t bother to look at it; he knew it was his wife calling. He hated to involve her but he didn’t have any other alternative. He looked in the rear view mirror at the police cruisers following behind him and in front of him he could see the flashing lights of approaching police cruisers. He cut his wheel to the left and made a wild U-turn crossing over the divider into oncoming traffic. The Benz avoided a head on collision with a Honda Civic then slid into the curb. Jason jumped out of the car leaving it running and dashed into the park.

Freeze! an officer screamed as he got out of his patrol car drawing his gun.

I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me! Jason screamed as he ran aimlessly in the park.

Stop! Police!

There seemed to be over ten officers giving foot pursuit. Jason was running at break neck speed towards the Adams Street entrance of the park. He could see that he was surrounded by the officers and knew there was no way to escape. He stopped suddenly then turned around and looked at the police officers that had stopped short with their guns trained on him.

Don’t move, Police! they all seemed to be screaming the same thing in unison.

Jason, dressed in a blue pin stripe Brook Brothers three-piece suit, put his hands in the air. He wasn’t sure if Michelle had made it to the park but he knew she would be there soon, she was his backbone.

Place both your hands on your head and kneel down on the ground slowly! One officer yelled.

Jason put his hands on his head and knelt down on one knee and then he slowly knelt down on the other knee. As he knelt, his unbuttoned blazer blew open from a light breeze revealing a gun on his waist then screamed, It wasn’t me…It was Bunz!

GUN! screamed an officer.

Wait a minute! Jason yelled out reaching for the pistol with intentions of placing it on the ground. Suddenly gunshots rang out and he felt himself fall to the ground and when he looked up he saw Michelle crying and shaking him.

Jason jumped up in the bed breathing heavily and wiping his sweat soaked face with the palm of both his hands. It was just another bad dream. He looked around the dimly lit room and when his eyes focused he saw his mother getting out of a leather armchair rushing over to his bedside. He looked to the corner of the room by the door and his uncle Rick was asleep in a similar leather armchair.

Hey baby. Are you ok? His mother asked standing next to his bed and staring at him with her eyebrows raised.

I…I…I have a bad headache. Jason replied rubbing his temples.

I know baby but you’re going to be fine. Paula rubbed his hand gently then looked over to Rick who was getting out of the armchair.

Mother, what am I doing here? What happened?

Paula’s facial expression changed and she looked to Rick who was making his way over to the bed.

You had a terrible accident baby but you’re going to be ok. You’re going to be just fine. She rubbed his hand.

Yea nephew, you had us worried for a minute but you’re tough as nails so you gon’ be aiight. Rick said to him.

Jason’s eyes darted around the room, Where is Michelle? Is she here? Was she with me? Did she get hurt in the accident too?

Paula and Rick looked at each other then Rick nodded to her.

Jason, I don’t want to upset you but Michelle is gone.

Oh my God! She’s dead? Jason’s mouth dropped and his eyes began to water instantly as he tried to get up from the bed but couldn’t.

No, no Jason. She left town after your accident. I don’t think she could handle this and left. I’m so sorry. I wanted you to get better before telling you. Paula said sympathetically.

No! That’s not true! She would never leave me! She loves me, we were engaged. We’re supposed to get married mother.

Pain swelled in Paula, she didn’t want to see her son hurt, he had been through so much already.

Nephew. She probably wasn’t the one for you because she couldn’t handle the pressure. She didn’t stick around to see if you made it or checked out. Some females just can’t deal with certain shit, know what I mean?

Jason sulked in the bed. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to force the tears back into his eyes.

I know how you felt about her and this is a lot for you to handle right now so we’re going to give you some time to let this sink in nephew. We’re going to go downstairs to get something to eat and we’ll be back in a minute. Ok?

Jason nodded his head slowly and laid down then turned his back to them as they walked out. He was trying to figure out why Michelle would leave him, especially when he had an accident. He believed marriage was a union for better or for worse, wasn’t that how it went?

Rick and Paula walked to the elevator.

Do you think he gonna remember what I did? Rick asked Paula.

I sure as hell hope he doesn’t. I hope that medication works, if not he’ll be devastated if he finds out what really happened. We don’t want him to relapse so let’s stick to the story and pray he never finds out the truth about what really happened. Paula responded.

Jason sat up in the bed slowly, the beeping of the machine monitoring his heart rate sped up and he gripped the rails on the bed tightly. He was beginning to remember what happened and why he was in the hospital. It was coming back to him and the memory brought on feelings of shame, embarrassment and anger. Tears filled his sockets and rolled down his cheeks freely when he started crying. He began to remember the torment he suffered in grade school and high school. It was when he graduated from high school that things changed for him; he met Michelle and fell in love. Things between them were great but her leaving him had to be because she was tired of being with a boy when she needed a man.

Chapter 2

Tragedy Strikes Early

Hurry up and get dressed Jason. Paula Buchanan yelled to her son who was sitting on the floor in his room playing Tekken on his Playstation.

Jason heard her but never answered because he didn’t want to go with her and his father to the supermarket to get their Thanksgiving turkey, it was a yearly ritual he had grown tired of. Suddenly his bedroom door flew open and his mother was standing in the doorway, her long silky hair wrapped in a bun with her fists balled up resting on her hips. Her face was bright with not a blemish and her full wide lips added to her exotic look. Her eyes took on an Asian uniqueness and her high cheekbones sloped to her nose, which bubbled out showcasing her Caribbean trademark. She was wearing Gloria Vanderbilt jeans that showed her perfectly rounded hips and thick thighs with a blue shirt that fit snug showing her average, but full bust line.

Boy, turn off that bloomin’ game and put your clothes on so we can meet your father downstairs. Now…Jason!

Aww mother, why can’t I stay here and play my game. You and dad never buy the turkey I pick anyway. Jason whined.

Mrs. Buchanan shot Jason a look that wasn’t pleasant, This is not up for discussion Jason and when I tell you to do something, you do it without question. You hear me talking to you?

Yes mother. He replied softly.

Jason knew his mother was serious by her tone. She was not physically abusive but her voice was equal to a lashing in his book. At 14 years old, Jason had come to realize his mother was the one who regulated order, morals, and values. In the Buchanan household, Mrs. Buchanan was the enforcer of discipline while Mr. Buchanan was the more sensible and lenient parent.

Paula Buchanan was an over protective mother who had serious delusions of grandeur. She acted as if she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth despite the reality of her past. Paula was born in Trinidad where her mother worked as a housecleaner for the wealthy. As a young girl, Paula would accompany her mother when she went to work and detested watching her on her hands and knees scrubbing floors, washing walls, and cleaning dirty toilets. Paula escaped that world by sneaking away trying on the expensive clothes and exotic jewelry, pretending she was from royalty. She would stand in front of the mirror and fantasize about being rich and wealthy. Her obsession was so strong she began to act out the part of an aristocrat, eventually morphing it into part of her character. She started to talk as if she was from an affluent family and anyone who didn’t know her background was naturally fooled and it soon became a sick delusion for her and consumed her life.

Seeing her mother diminished to working as a modern day slave compelled Paula to leave her homeland at the age of 18 for the United States where she heard financial opportunities were abundant. Not having any money to get a passport or airline ticket she had to depend on the only thing that could possibly get her what she needed, her beauty. She sought out an aging man, known for taking a fancy to young girls for promise of sexual exploits, to sponsor her trip to the States. Paula was able to abscond from her suitor and kept her virginity in tact before committing the sexual acts for her one-way ticket and passport. When she arrived to the United States, the tall buildings and the fast pace of the city amazed her but she wasn’t intimidated because she was there for a purpose, her dream of becoming wealthy. She stayed in Brooklyn with a close family friend and found work as a nurse’s aid at a local hospital where she kept up the act that she was from a very prestigious background.

One night while registering a young man brought into the emergency room with a stab wound, Paula’s attention was directed to his friend who seemed overwhelmingly concerned about him. He was dressed in an olive green linen suit that had tiny specks of blood splotched all over it. He was waving his hand anxiously as he spoke with the doctors as a diamond ring he wore on his pinky finger gleamed under the soft fluorescent lights. He was average height with a slim but sturdy build and southern features that gave off a powerful look. He spoke with extreme passion when telling the doctors that money wasn’t an issue in getting his friend the best medical attention. Paula was immediately attracted to him and turned on by his hard-core demeanor as he spoke to the doctors, but his soft side when speaking to his injured comrade, increased her fascination. The large bankroll he pulled out to pay the hospital bill up front solidified his financial stability and capacity to accommodate her worldly taste because living regally was still of great importance to her. She had found the man of her dreams in Ronald Buchanan.

***

When Paula closed Jason’s bedroom door, he got up and hurriedly pulled a white t-shirt out from his top dresser drawer and put it on. He went over to his closet and opened the door and chose a black hoodie and a pair of black Levi’s and put them on then looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. The hoodie was a size too big but hung comfortably on his slim 5’6" frame. Jason’s Cooley hair, compliments of his mother’s Trinidadian background, was cut in a low seazer, which gave exposure to his slanted forehead. His eyes were slightly slanted and his face was long and slender. He sat back down on the floor and resumed playing his video game turning the volume down on the television so he could hear when his mother approached.

Jason was a loner but that wasn’t by choice. He had an identical twin that died at childbirth because of complications during his mother’s pregnancy and that unfortunate incident made him an only child, which was both a luxury and a curse. After losing his twin, his mother went into a deep depression and became exceedingly protective over him, which contributed to his solitude. She sheltered him in every way imaginable and would not let him out of her sight. As he got older her compulsive obsession over his safety continued as he was prohibited from going outside to interact with other neighborhood children and kept away from his father’s side of the family. The seclusion from friends and playmates his age caused his mind to develop creatively, but in an