Clouded Judgement 2

By Byron Carey

Within a circle of unresolved circumstances dangerous secrets, lies, and betrayal are looming over Devon, Christian, and Grams. Just when everyone thought it was time to celebrate Devon's acquittal on drug charges the piercing sounds of gunfire blind-sides the family. With Grams, closer, to coming home from prison will a wounded heart emotionally bring out another side of him? Will tragedy pull them together? Or will they forever be deprived of the things that matter the most?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rhys World Publishing
• Release date: Oct 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386655305

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a very hot Saturday, several days before Independence Day. Andre Dre Fitzgerald sat inside an Uncle Julio’s Mexican Restaurant with seventy thousand dollars inside a duffel bag. He was waiting on his connect, a Mexican by the name of Chato’, who was a tall husky man that once supplied Grams, and now furnished the majority of Texas.

Dre had been waiting over ten minutes at a table by the window facing the parking lot. He was becoming impatient so he reached for the cell phone on his waist to make sure it was there. He thought about what was going to happen. Then he thought about how Lucifer must really be after him. Suddenly he recognized Chato’ treading through the eatery doors, walking toward him with the swagger of a cartel leader as two of his soldiers marched on his coattail.

A Spanish woman with two kids sat at the table next to Dre, looking at the menu. Her eyes peeked slowly over it, noticing Chato’ and his soldier’s grab a seat at Dre’s table. Instantly she moved, feeling uncomfortable, and that made Dre edgy.

What’s up with it? Chato’ asked, sitting across from Dre, gazing at him.

Nuthin’ much, Dre replied. I got that change you wanted.

Naw...naw...hold up. You moving too fast, he said, pumping his hand before him as if nothing bothered him. Let’s just talk a minute, he responded while looking over at the waiter.

A waiter moved past them going to a table just a few feet away from theirs. The meeting with Chato’ wasn’t the type of gathering Dre was accustomed to. Grams always dealt with this type of thing. One way or the other, something was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. So, have you talked to Grams? Chato’ asked.

Sweat began to pour from Dre’s forehead and palms. His stomach started hurting, mouth and throat dry. The question came as no surprise, knowing what he’d done to Grams just four years prior. Dre made a deal with the devil, Detective Littlefield, to convict Grams.

Yeah, about a week ago I went to see him," he lied.

Chato’ looked confused suddenly, like he couldn’t believe what Dre was saying. Dre didn’t know what the hell was happening either. All Dre knew was that he heard a muffled ringing sound. It was a cell phone receiving a call.

Chato’ answered it, knowing that it was Grams calling to listen in on the outcome. Something is wrong, very wrong, Dre thought, eyeing Chato’s blank expression. First came the noise outside the restaurant window, which Dre heard. It was so deafening, so loud that it seemed to have a physical force of its own. It grew louder because there were screams, moans, crying, and praying. Then the blood came, and plenty of it.

Dre saw it, at least most of it, because it was mostly his own blood. Bullets ripped into his chest, tearing him apart. The bullets from an AK-47 lifted him up and carried him backward over the booth so fast he was flying. The rapid fire shattered almost all the glass in the establishment.

The windows, mirrors, and lights sent fragments hurling through the air, deadly and jagged, slicing through skin and bone. Blood was everywhere, thick and dark, but no sign of Chato’ or his soldiers. They were gone. The only thing they left behind was a prepaid cell phone for Grams to hear the commotion.

The roaring sounds of three motorcycles discharged with six men wearing black leather attire, helmets, and weapons leaving the premises. That’s when Dre smelled death surrounding him. The bloody rags that only moments earlier had been well cared for clothing were now scattered everywhere. Dre’s senses were fuzzy, making him barely aware of the terrified survivors. Dre’s last thoughts were of his kids, their mother, and Grams. He saw all of their faces and he wanted to tell them he was sorry. Where there was once life, all that remained was a sudden silence, an eerie vision of things and an absence of movement. Times had changed and life was over. A vague memory.

Chapter 2

Elaine, a beautiful and astonishing woman the color of gold sand with long, thick, black hair, rust-colored eyes and a lavish frame, wanted today to be perfect. It was her two-year anniversary. She wore his favorite dress, the one with the thigh-high split revealing well-toned, curvaceous legs.

Devon, an alloy colored man, stood six feet six inches tall with a lean, muscular, athletic frame, loved when she exposed her thighs. Even in public he could hardly keep his hands from brushing up against them and sometimes being so bold as to squeeze them.

Devon dressed himself quickly inside one of the many bathrooms within their two-story brick home, admiring their accomplishments that surrounded him. A huge grin appeared on his face as the thought of this nicely spacious home filled with every amenity was his reality.

Draped in a two-piece suit and gator loafers, Devon pressed his rugged and sophisticated Aviator frame sunglasses onto his nose, even though it was after nightfall. He inspected himself in the bathroom mirror, saying, I look good, and gave himself a wink. Then the phone rang inside the bedroom.

Baby, can you get that? Elaine asked, sitting in front of the vanity doing the finishing touches to her hair.

I got it, he replied, going toward the bedroom. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand seeing that it was his mother, Kassandra, calling. What’s up, mama?

Daddy! their daughter Jayden shouted into the phone. What you doing?

Getting ready to take your mother out for our anniversary, he replied, loving the sound of her voice.

Ohhh, can I go out too? she asked.

Ummh, I’m sorry, but not this time, he replied. But guess what?

What?

Your NaNa is going to take you to see the fireworks. I know you’ll like that, Devon said, seeing Elaine approaching him slowly, looking like an object of lust.

He grabbed her, of course, because he couldn’t help himself, and she let him hold her. Devon held her a long time and she kissed him, once then twice, slowly licking the inside of his upper lip. He loved it so much he groaned with pleasure, forgetting that Jayden was on the phone.

Daddy, did you hear me?

Yes, baby, he lied. Well, me and your mother are about to leave, I love you. He placed the phone on the receiver.

Don’t be lying to my baby, Elaine said, playfully pushing him in the chest.

Hey, you did that bringing your sexy ass in here enticing me, he replied, eyeing the heels that showed her ankles off so perfectly. Are you ready to go now?

I’m ready if you are, big man,

Shortly thereafter the two were traveling on the interstate, drifting in the lap of luxury. A metallic ruby, black seven series BMW with a customized front grill, lavishly decorated a special rust brown leather, ebony wood trimmings, and twenty-two-inch matching rims, kept them sitting comfortably in their seats.

The state of the art stereo system thumped hard as the sounds of Ginuwine’s Differences played throughout the vehicle. A sense of satisfaction showed on Devon’s face and all he could do was grin as he gazed over at Elaine, singing along to the music. There was no doubt about it; he was completely in love with her. And vice versa.

The fifteen-minute drive went quickly and before they realized it, Elaine and Devon were inside a highly lit ball that spun moderately in circles on the Reunion Tower. The place was remarkably tasteful with its artistic decorative scheme and pervading quality. It wasn’t what either of them conjured up, especially seeing the city moving in slow motion from high up above.

They settled at a table in the back of the restaurant. Both of them received a few hard stares, as well as grimacing looks. But other than that, life was grand and they were celebrating something greater. Their anniversary!

Excuse me sir, are you Devon Graham, the basketball player, a woman asked, approaching idly. Gazing to his left Devon gave a slanted grin to the beautiful woman standing there next to him.

That would be me, he replied calmly.

I told my girlfriends over there it was you, she said, turning slightly and waving back at them. Devon waved as well, offering a smile.

I hope it won’t be a problem if I ask for your autograph.

Give me whatever you have and I’ll autograph it for you, he replied, looking over at Elaine and shrugging his shoulders.

The woman then passed him his rookie card and a pen.

You have my rookie card? he asked, astounded. You must really be a fan of mine. What’s your name? Devon asked with a pen in hand.

Stacey.

To my number one fan, Stacey, with love, Devon Graham he said while writing the exact words before passing the items back.

Oh, thank you so much! she said with animation as she rushed back to her table.

For the first time Elaine saw firsthand how the female seductively licked the rim of her lips at her man. At that moment, she had the urge to reach out and strike. Instead, she held onto the thought of Devon loving only her.

Devon’s eyes flashed to Elaine before looking over the menu. He noticed a slight frown and even a sign of pouting.

Hey beautiful, don’t do that. It doesn’t look good on you, he said playfully.

Forget you, Devon, she replied, shaking her head. You know she wants more than your autograph.

So, who cares? Signing autographs comes with the career, but love and happiness is what I have you for.

Devon, please don’t let these groupies ruin our life. I love you too much.

I love you, too. And I promise you, I won’t.

Well, can I have my man for the rest of the night, Elaine asked with a broad smile and all the charm she could muster.

I’m all yours, he answered, letting his eyes roam over her mesmerizingly luscious body.

Chapter 3

This lustful moment was fascinating, causing Grams to smirk with satisfaction as Olivia stroked his girth with her soft, gentle hand. She caressed him up and down, priming her lips and tongue. Her eyes glanced upward into his as she opened her mouth wide, taking him into her warmth. Grams couldn’t help it, his eyes closed slowly, hearing her choke and gag while feeling the moisture of saliva surrounding his member.

Behind the loud slurping sounds Olivia took him in deeper, bobbing her head hastily. Grams’ eyes finally rolled into the back of his head. He felt helpless, defeated beyond his control. She was good.

His knees grew weak and wobbly so he placed his hands behind her head. Her tongue glided back and forth on the ridge of his girth while Olivia’s lips assaulted him honorably. Grams missed the ecstasy she always brought to the table. He released a soft, passionate groan that forced his head to fall back.

Olivia was on her knees enjoying his reactions and the taste of him. She stroked him faster, breasts bouncing loosely in front of her, seeing his mouth open wider. He’s almost there, she told herself. The muscles inside his entire body contracted, sending chills up and down his frame as Olivia’s flaming mouth worked him over. He was exploding inside her facial opening recklessly when a knock on the door startled him.

Boom, boom, Graham, you have a visitor, the C.O. shouted, awakening him.

Grams woke up in the small prison cell on the Robertson Unit with a large spot of wetness and a massive bulge in the front of his boxers. The boxers were stuck to his skin like rubber cement.

He sat up on the edge of his bunk without saying a word. Then the cell door opened and a female C.O. stepped inside. For the first time, he noticed her firm round breasts and wide hips that were spread so far apart he could see the prison tier between her thighs. Damn, he thought, seeing her eyeing him.

Correctional Officer Berry stood inside the cell, blocking the doorway. Her eyes were examining Grams closely as he sat on the bunk wearing nothing but boxers. His broad shoulders, strong pectoral muscles, and washboard abs sent her mind wandering, especially after her eyes cast onto his towering member that held his boxers up like a tepee. What’s up with it, Ms. Berry? he asked, seeing her focused on his boxers.

Oh...oh... she mumbled, trying to remember why she came into the cell. Grams, I know you heard me calling you, making me come all up in here like this.

Naw, you good. I ain’t tripping if you ain’t, he said as politely as he could without saying too much. Sometimes everybody needs to see somethin’ to make their day that much better.

Boy, you so crazy, she blushed, looking over her shoulder as she saw an inmate walk by.

I hope you clean that thing before you go see your visitor.

Oh, you want to play, he said quickly with a smile. Seriously, I’m going to need some help with it, a little medical attention.

You got something, because I’ll call that gay doctor for you, she laughed out loud.

Get your ass on somewhere, he replied, standing up and easing her out of the cell. She smiled back at him jokingly, exiting his cell.

****

Detective Littlefield and Detective Turner, better known as The Salt and Pepper detectives, made a special expedition down the interstate, landing at the Robertson Unit in Abilene, Texas. Detective Littlefield was a good detective who dedicated a good portion of his waking hours tracking criminals, especially Grams. Detective Turner was a black detective that had been with the force for twelve years. He too had become obsessed with and possessed by the desire to capture criminals. Most of the drive the two rode in silence, occasionally blowing cigarette smoke throughout the Chevy Impala. Turner inserted a CD into the radio. It began to play Kanye West’s

Power.

No one man should have all that power, the clocks tickin’, I just count the hours.

It caused Littlefield to think of Grams, and then Dre. He recalled kneeling down inside the restaurant to examine Dre’s lifeless body.

The dreadful smell of blood poured onto the floor from his informant’s chest through holes the size of an infant’s fist. What he saw disturbed him considerably. And judging by the markings of the booth seats, table, and walls with blood smeared loosely, Dre probably didn’t die immediately.