This Night Belongs to You

By Shelagh A. Jackson

How do friends deal with betrayal, incest, rape, sexual promiscuity, and broken hearts? A town filled with wayward teenagers attempting to live an adult life, quickly learn that through all the hurt and pain, and through all the joy and laughter, all that glitters isn't gold.

A dangerous mystery lies with the new family in town, and Stacey Petersen, the heartbroken and immature idol, has fallen head over heels for the seductive son. Roger Jones carries a cloud of mystery and unforeseen danger wherever he goes. But, despite the danger, Stacey is determined to get her man. She's even willing to risk friendship and her family's trust to be a part of his world. Even though Roger's lustful eyes can't seem to escape Stacey's overt advances, he's determined to hold on to his family's secrets, including the question of his whereabouts when he disappears on business trips for days at a time. Do you think he's seeing someone else?" her beloved friend Donna asked. On her quest to get her man, Stacey will find that she will get more than she bargained for. Trapped in the tumultuous whirlwind that lies between childhood and adulthood, Stacey and her company of adolescent friends will find themselves facing many of life's ugly truths and a wealth of unanswered questions, which teenagers haven't yet acquired the life experiences to deal with.

This Night Belongs to You combines humor with realism in telling the murderous tale of a young girl's coming of age. It is a novel about the joy of friendship, about the influence of family on adolescence, about the psychology of sexual misbehavior, and last but never least.....it is a story about the calming beauty of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 16, 2002
• ISBN: 9780759623699

Shelagh A. Jackson

About the Author Shelagh Jackson is a mom and educator in the city of Chicago.  You may contact her at:   A New Day Publishing House PO Box 10928 Chicago, Il 60610-0928 [e-mail]  

Book preview

The Night Belongs To You

SHELAGH A. JACKSON

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive, Suite 200

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2009 Shelagh A. Jackson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/23/2009

ISBN: 978-0-7596-2370-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-0-7596-2369-9 (ebook)

The first edition of this book was originally published in 1998; revised 2002

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1: All Aboard

Chapter 2: Let The Games Begin

Chapter 3: That’s What Friends Are For

Chapter 4: Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?

Chapter Five: For The Love of the Game

Chapter Six: In the Running

Chapter Seven: Feelings

Chapter Eight: Unusual Behavior

Chapter Nine: A Few Stolen Moments

Chapter Ten: Cat Fight!

Chapter Eleven: A Rainy Night

Chapter Twelve: Keeping It on The Downlow

Chapter Thirteen: Secrets

Chapter Fourteen: Trust and Honesty

Chapter Fifteen: A Silent Cry

Chapter Sixteen: The Cat’s Out of the Bag

Chapter Seventeen: Letting Go

Chapter Eighteen: Hurt So Good

Chapter Nineteen: Sweet Valentine

Chapter Twenty: Little Girl Lost

Chapter Twenty-One: Stolen Innocence

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Trusting Heart

Chapter Twenty-Three: For My Honor

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Cutting Edge

Chapter Twenty-Five: What A Man!

Chapter Twenty-Six: My Knight in Shining Armor

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Let me first give Thanks to God Almighty for giving me this life and talent. Next, I would like to thank Michael Baisden, author of Men Cry In the Dark, for his insight, inspiration, and my first push. Also, thanks to my Marshall Fields Department Store crew for watching my back as I brought this to a close: Dana, Liev, Nadia, and Jason. You guys made it bearable. And last, but certainly never least....Thanks to Lisa Givhan, the creator of Ph.d’s; D’Anita Byrd, My Laugh Box; Rita Linzy, who’s always keeping watch; Debbie Brown, for taking the time; Mildred Walton, and her family, for allowing her the time; Robert McBride, it wouldn’t be if I hadn’t met you; Angel Towns, you took your time but you came through anyway; Julie Lynn, for being a constant; and to my sisters, Tiffany and Antoinette Jackson for reading this in the raw.

I also want to give much love to Friends Under the Covers Book Club, and to all of the school teachers of the world, whom without, this could not be.

THIS BOOK IS

DEDICATED

TO

MY GREEN LIGHT,

MY SISTER, TIFFANY TIP TOP JACKSON;

AND TO MY GRANNY, VIRGINIA JACKSON.

PROLOGUE

Oftentimes, adults find it difficult to relate to teenagers because they have somehow forgotten what it’s like being a teenager blossoming into young adulthood. Well, get ready.....This Night Belongs to You will take you back!

When we become mature adults, we frequently fail to remember what it’s like living through the turbulent, and sometimes abysmal, teenage years. We’ve forgotten about peer pressure because life has somehow taught us how to value ourselves. We’ve learned to control our emotions because we’ve realized it’s not a matter of life or death if everything does not happen the way we want, when we want. We know and have seen that life goes on; bills still have to be paid, families need to be taken care of; and dreams can still be realized…….....The mere thought of being in love with love seems like another lifetime with fewer responsibilities. But as we have made it through this difficult time, scathed or unscathed, let’s not forget those who still must pass through, and who count on those who have come before them to help steer the way.

Yes, many teenagers believe they are invincible. Yes, teenagers believe the world will open itself up to all of their hopes and dreams just because they dare say so; and yes, many teenagers believe adults know nothing about anything. But in our learned patience and understanding, know they still need us; our guidance, our advice, our wisdom, our testimonies of how we made it through. Because when the troubles come, and remember they will, our teenagers may not know how to ask for help; and this is where we must be vigilant to pay attention to the little things, the big things, the obvious and the not so obvious, because what they can’t say in words their actions are loud and clear. And in their actions is where we tend to judge, and persecute, instead of reaching out and sharing how we got over; how we made it through; how in life we all make mistakes; but life does go on. Life will go on...

Remember: In all that you do and endure, always remain STEADFAST!

Chapter 1: All Aboard

Noooooo-ooo!

The night seemed darker than usual. The blood was thick. I held his limp, bloody body close to mine. I could feel his last breaths blow against my chin. I thought,.....God, are you there? Please, tell me this isn’t happening. Please, tell me this is a dream, a terrible nightmare. This lifeless body I am holding could not be the body of my lover, my love………I’m so cold. I must hold on to him. The lights, the lights are sooooo cold.........

The intense and blinding street lights set the scene for a tragic ending to a true love affair.

**********************************************

My name is Stacey Petersen. I have a story to tell. It is a story about searching for a love I didn’t know I already knew. When we are young, we tend to look everywhere but within ourselves and within our own homes for that special kind of love: a love unconditional, a love filled with passion and spirit, a love that will watch over and support you. I was too young, and lacked the wisdom, to know that the love I thought I was missing was always within my reach and forever in my life. That love came from my family. But I was too consumed with my own pain to recognize or appreciate this love. So being the persistent and sometimes naive person that I can be, I went eagerly in search of a new love, one that would fill the emptiness that lingered inside of me. My daddy always taught me that I could have whatever I set my mind to. Well, it came to be that the prize I’d set my mind and eyes upon came wrapped in a pretty and attractive package, but the contents were extremely hazardous.

Let me brief you a little on my new love; but know anything I say here can’t compare to the story that’s about to unfold right before your eyes. My new love was everything I’d dreamt it to be: kind, gentle, and loving, just like my daddy said it should be. But, in my efforts to hold on to both, I was losing myself. My new love and my old love just didn’t mix; they were like oil and water; the difference between night and day; and when these differences came quickly floating to the surface, the reality was cold and harsh.

I learned my old love, my family, would always be with me. It was safe and secure and would never leave me. But, in my relentless quest to find a new love, I overlooked these truths. People say when in love you take chances, you take risks. Well, the risk I took turned my fairytale dream into a painful nightmare. I discovered my new and adventurous love was only temporary, and very much unstable. My new love was only as secure as its weakest link, and when the wind blew the security gate tumbled down. Even more so, my new love wasn’t able to offer a miniscule amount of safety my old love ensured. As a matter of fact, with my new love, danger lurked in the midst.

It came to be that my new love was simply on a short layover, constantly moving from one terminal to the next, with no intentions on settling down in my town. I was only one of the many stops that had been carefully arranged on his mysterious itinerary he’d kept so well hidden. At first, I didn’t understand the many unexplained arrivals and departures, and by the time it became clear to me to question these obscurities, the airplane had made a crash landing. My heart was ripped in two. But who was right there through all my pain and glory, my old love. Through all the drama and pain, my family stands with me. If there is nothing else to learn from this experience, it’s that you treasure those who treasure you.

The people and the events leading up to this sudden revelation will remain forever embedded in the crack that tears deeply throughout my aching heart. So I feel it necessary to begin with them. I start with my friends: Rachel Meredith, Cindy Howard and Donna Lewis. We are all thick as thieves.

Rachel is the prima donna of the group. She’s very well-endowed with perky and bouncy breasts. She has a well-rounded Jennifer Lopez derriere and the greenest of green eyes. She believes every boy at Langley High School wants her, and that she could have any one of her choice at the snap of her fingers.

Rachel makes sure to make a glamorous entrance into every room she enters into, regardless of where she is. I remember a time when she spent over eight hours in the beauty salon making the hairstylist work her hair until each and every strand laid perfectly on her head. Shallowly, she told the hairstylist, I am expected at the beach party tomorrow so my hair must be perfect. The hairstylist looked at her in astonishment and said, Isn’t that the place where there’s lots of water to wash away a hairstyle, lots of sand to dirty it up, and plenty of sunshine to make you sweat it away? Rachel responded sarcastically, pointing to a black, leather DKNY tote bag, Isn’t this the place where I keep my money? In which you won’t get, if my shit is not laid? And with that, shortly after 10PM, Rachel walked out of It’s All My Hair with a laid ass hairdo.

That’s Rachel, and we all love her for it. She really doesn’t mean any harm. She’s an attention seeker, and getter. It’s obvious she doesn’t get much from home. Her two older sisters are always center stage trying to act and look like models. Needless to say, Rachel’s parents devote all of their time to them. They believe their two eldest daughters, Bambi and Margeaux, are sure money-makers and worth the time they invest in them; which means their third, and youngest daughter, my best friend, Rachel, came up short in the attention department.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for Rachel. I knew her frequent mis-behaviors were a direct reaction against the lack of affection she missed from home; which also explained her ongoing, careless pursuit of men. Like a predator on the hunt for his prey, Rachel, many times used her male conquests as a way to validate herself. She seems to be on a mission to prove to herself that if her parents didn’t love her, then the world would. With a body and beauty as rare as mine, I’ll never be without a man, Rachel always boasted. Only, in all of her drama and flare to be the object of every man’s desire, she recklessly confuses lust and insincerity, with love. I never doubted Mr. and Mrs. Meredith’s love for Rachel, but it definitely wouldn’t hurt if they were to take a crash course on How to love all of your children, equally.

My girl, Cindy, is the Super Woman of the new millennium. She is gorgeous by all definitions. She has an hour glass figure, a personality of gold, and a smile that sparkles like diamonds. Everyone loves her. Cindy’s out to take on the world and to prove as a woman, you can have it all. Cindy swears her heart belongs to Antwon Deveaux. Antwon is Cindy’s one and only boyfriend. She swears he is the man she will spend her life with. Many of us admire the love, devotion, and discipline they display at such a young age. This was unusual with us teenagers, especially the boys; commitment was a word for our parents, and definitely not a part of our vocabulary. Cindy says her strong sense of commitment come from experiencing her parent’s foibles. She say’s she’s an actual witness to the phrase, for better or worse. Cindy’s parents split for a short period of time when she was just a young girl. She says she remembers nothing but unhappiness in her home after her parents separated; but when they reunited, shared Cindy, all was well and happy again. Cindy believes once you find someone who you love and care for, there’s no need to rock the boat, looking for another. She says her parent’s experience taught her this. My mom says Cindy has an old soul; whatever that means.

Anyway, this is why so many of us looked up to Cindy and Antwon; they were about the only young couple around who was solid in their relationship when so many of us couldn’t get through a date without running into someone else we thought we may like to spend time with. You could balance Bigfoot on a tightrope when it came to Cindy and Antwon’s relationship, that’s just how steady they were. Every year at Langley High School, they were voted Most Loyal Couple. Everyone thought they were just perfect for one another.

Another big part of Cindy’s successful relationship was based on the fact she and Antwon were totally open and honest with each other about everything: from feelings and thoughts, to disappointments and their happiness. They were definitely not your average teenagers! Cindy and Antwon are also two of the most determined and the most confident people around. Their entire life plans were mapped out by the time they were sixteen: college, medical school, marriage, and 2.5 children. I sort of envied Cindy; she knew what she wanted, where she was going, and how to get there. Me, on the other hand, I was clueless about my life’s goals.

Sweet Donna is the logical one in this group, the practical one. She is beautiful, serene, and self-effacing when she surely doesn’t have to be. With legs and buns of a track star, abs of steel, and skin as soft and pretty as a Georgia peach, people always proclaimed her to be a natural beauty. Donna is also a natural, academically and athletically. Mr. James, Donna’s dad, is a former professional football player and is now a successful entrepreneur. Mrs. James is a college professor. Donna says because of who her parents are, she has no choice but to follow in their footsteps.

Donna is the one to turn to if we are ever in need of any help, or advice. Rachel always teased Donna about being a tomboy, but she never hesitated to follow her counsel. I remember a time when Rachel was so down in the dumps over finding one of her male conquests with another girl, she spoke of suicide. She thought her finesse to control men was lost. You sound really stupid right about now, said Donna, unsympathetically. Suicide. Go right ahead. As a matter of fact, I will help you. I’d rather see you dead than feeling sorry for yourself over someone you don’t even give a damn about. So your ego is bruised. So what! He did you a favor. He just let you know you are slipping. Now all you have to do is jump back on that horse and ride his ass like a jockey. I guarantee he won’t throw you off again. That’s a man for you. All of this from a seventeen year old high school virgin who’s never had one boyfriend. But, she broke Rachel out of that dismal spell. In fact, some say she made Rachel even worse.

After Donna’s little pep talk, everyone said Rachel’s head grew even bigger than before. For instance, Rachel always swore someday she’d get a body tattoo, but she was always afraid the piercing would be too painful for her to withstand. Well, one summer after Donna gave Rachel’s ego that major boost, she finally worked up the nerve to get a set of drums with cymbals tattooed on the nape of her neck. She said she read somewhere this was representative of a sex symbol. She said the world, especially men, needed to know who, and what, they were dealing with. That’s my girl!

I too am your typical teenager. Budding into what seemed like an abyss of unknown, the start of my teenage years led to an abundance of unfamiliar enjoyment and confusion. For one: non-stop party after party; constantly hanging out with friends, going excessively crazy over cute boys, talking until my last breath each night on the telephone, and becoming the biggest supporter of the U.S. economy by insisting I had to be up-to-date with the hottest and most expensive fashions and trends each month, all became a given. These times were always looked upon as your escape for when your parents were working your nerves. Secondly, I discovered people are not too sure about how to treat teenagers during this wild and uncontrollable period. We’re no longer children, so we’re too old to be spanked on our bottoms when we get out of line. But yet and still, we’re not adults either; our parents are still legally responsible for our screw ups. So what’s an adult to do? Blame teenagers for everything!

Confusion also came with my natural curiosity about sex and drugs. I wondered about this feeling of euphoria I’d heard many boys and girls my age talk about. They claim to have been in this state of great, an unexplainable pleasure while making love and getting high. I wondered what this was like. I also started to wonder if I was missing out on all life had to offer by not following the crowd. Both my mom and dad told me not to worry; they said something better always come along. So I waited, listened, and lived vicariously through my peers.

After I received my drivers license and a new car at the age of sixteen, my mother, being her usual wise self, was also the one to point out I drove too fast. People are always saying teenagers drive too fast. In my case, both they, and my mom, were right! I was the buckle-up poster child for this stereotype.

In speaking about myself, I would like to clear up a few misconceptions. I was never stuck up or easy, as some people call loose women, and never did I think of myself as the coolest or most popular girl at Langley High School; some think I was all of thee above. Some thought I was stuck up because any guy at Langley High who approached me with any interest I turned away. That is, until I met up with Antony Regal after the death of my father. Along with the decision to date Tony came my bad sense of judgment and the easy title. Everyone knew about Tony’s sexual conquests; they assumed I was one. They assumed wrong!

Tony was not the person to get hooked up with your first time in the ring. His punch was meaner than Iron Mike Tyson’s in his haymaker days. I should have known, and proceeded cautiously; after all, he hadn’t earned the Notorious Playboy title for no reason. Every honor that came along with that title he deserved. I’ll tell you more about Tony in a minute.

What I’m basically trying to say is outside of my friends and family, people really don’t know me. I was popular in high school because I was considered pretty. I was popular became the boys and most of the girls at my high school liked me. I was popular because my group of friends was considered the coolest kids at Langley; in high school, these were enough reasons for everyone to want to get to know you. But instead of getting to know me on normal terms, many people relied on gossip, half-truths, lies written on bathroom walls, and lies told in the boys’ locker room to fill me out. Of course these lies were told to try to tarnish a person’s reputation and uplift another’s. But what people say about me doesn’t matter; I know who my true friends are.

Now, going back to being your typical teenager; I must divert from the usual pattern and say when it came to parents, I am the exception to the rule. I think my mother is the coolest. The Best! I can talk with my mother about anything and I take her advice to be The Gospel.

After my daddy’s death, my mother had the lone duty of keeping together a family of seven. It wasn’t easy for her considering the fact my three brothers felt they all should drop out of school to work and become The Man of the House. My mother wouldn’t hear of it; all of her children would go to college. And what Magdalena Petersen says…..goes.

Out of six children only four of us remain at home: My little brother Marq is 16, and beginning his junior year at Langley; my little sister, Maxie, is 15 and starting her sophomore year at Langley; and then there’s my older brother Steve, who is your typical overprotective big brother and my unofficial, self-proclaimed guardian. Steve just turned twenty. He graduated from Langley three years ago and is now attending the University. His sole duty in life is to make sure no insincere guys could get close to Maxi, me, or my mother.

My eldest brother and sister have been out of the house for over three years. Derek lives with his fiancée across town; their long anticipated wedding day has no date. We all believe it to be a figment of their imagination. We’re just too busy right now. As soon as our careers and finances are straight, we’ll be on that road to holy matrimony, says Derek. My mother isn’t happy that her eldest son is shacking; she often pressures him to set a date. She tries to be a traditionalist by setting strong morals and principals for us to follow, while at the same time wanting to be a modernist, striving to understand the way of the world today. Anyway, my eldest sister, Dinah, is working on her Ph.D at Columbia in New York. Di is my role model. She’s smart, beautiful, and full of life. Di knows how to get exactly what she wants….out of life, and everyone else. My mother says Derek and Di are the trailblazers in the family, good and bad, and the rest of us should sit up and take notice.

My mother is forty-three and beautiful. She’s tall and graceful….a class act. Sophisticated Lady, Daddy always called her. My mother’s hair is a soft auburn blonde color, likened to Vanessa L. Williams’ tresses. All while I was growing up, she wore it long, down to the center of her back. But after my father’s death, she decided to cut her crown and glory short to her ears. She said long hair reminded her of daddy too much. I remembered how he loved to wrap his fingers around her locks and rub his face through this soft cascade of hair. One of my mother’s memories is that he used to think of her as his Princess Rapunzel needing saving from her strict parents. Nonetheless, my mother’s new hairstyle is pretty, but definitely something we all had to get used to.

Very shapely and elegant she is: compassionate, caring, loving, and strong. Other men would say my mother is dangerously sexy because she is a quiet tease. Mr. Richland, a close friend to the family who lives in the neighborhood, always says my mother unconsciously teases men by being too friendly. He says every man she speaks to wants to believe she’s really interested in him. After my father died, men came around our home in droves. My big brother Steve felt like they were disrespecting my father and taking my mother’s inch of kindness and trying to run a yard of game.

Steve blamed our mother for the swarm of men who suddenly began encircling our home like vultures; ‘Mrs. Petersen, may I mow your lawn today?’ ‘Mrs. Petersen, may I fix this for you?’ ‘Lena, may I fix that for you?’ ‘Lena, may I…….?’ They came non-stop. At the insistence of my mother, friends and family call her Lena, instead of Magdalena. My mother says she doesn’t like to be named after a prostitute, or an adulterer. My