Undeniable: Undeniable, #1

By Raymond Francis

Undeniable focuses on the story of Amara, a young real estate agent residing in Charlotte, North Carolina. Amara is afro-centric, socially woke, and in touch with the issues that face our country today. Unconcerned with the material trappings of the world, Amara is more focused on her deep spiritual quest to find peace, happiness, and true love.That love is right beneath Amara's nose, in the form of her best friend of the past 10 years, Driq. Driq is a complex man with a complicated life, but he has always had a soft spot reserved in his heart for Amara. He is wise beyond his years, due to the fact that he was forced to grow up quickly and become the man of the house at a very young age. When Amara sells a house under suspicious circumstances, Driq informs her that it may be connected to some illegal activity. As Amara investigates the residents of the house, she concludes that something isn't right. From there, Amara stumbles into a world that she has no idea even existed.Undeniable use modern day issues such as police brutality, activism, and drug use to weave together an epic love story. As the events play out, Amara and Driq are forced to make decisions that they never thought they would have to, but these decisions will ultimately shape their pride, purpose, and destiny!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pleasure Principle Publications
• Release date: Apr 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781540141040

Book preview

Dipped in chocolate, bronzed in elegance, enameled with grace, toasted with beauty. My lord, she's a black woman.

― Yosef A.A. Ben-Jochannan

PART I - PRIDE

ONE

Ugh, disappointedly sighed Amara as she stared in the mirror, trying to find something to do with her hair.

Ever since Amara had done the ‘big chop’ last year, she struggled to find hair care products that tamed her natural, curly mane. Amara loved the way her dark brown curls complimented her golden-bronzed skin, but maintaining it was like a whole other job in itself, in addition to her paying one, as a certified real estate agent.

With a few pulls of her comb and a little bit more coconut oil, Amara finally decided that she had found a style that would do for time being. Quickly, she strolled her small yet shapely frame from her bathroom and back to her lone bedroom, planting herself in front of her closet. Amara had those unmistakably curvaceous hips that came straight from the Motherland, so finding a suitable outfit was normally a struggle, but for this particular occasion, there was only one appropriate thing to wear.

Amara reached into her closet and snatched some black jeans, black Chucks, a braided belt and her Colin Kaepernick jersey off of the hanger, then slipped right into it. 

Slay, she said, smiling ear to ear, as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror that hung adjacent to her bed.

Finally, Amara walked across her room to where her chest of drawers was. Then, she reached for the small wooden jewelry box that sat on top of it.

"Can’t forget this," she thought, pulling out her gold picture locket necklace, and draping it around her neck.

The locket may not have been expensive, but it meant the world to Amara. Monetary worth was trumped by sentimental value in Amara’s world, so the locket was by far her most prized possession.

"I just hope that I have enough gas to get there and back," wondered Amara, as she grabbed her car keys.

Amara’s funds were running a little low, but the event that she was heading to was just too important to miss. Her destination was a Black Lives Matter rally that was starting in less than 45 minutes and Amara wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t make it downtown in time to pledge her unwavering support for the movement.

This time, yet another video had emerged of the Charlotte police beating on an unarmed Black man for no apparent reason. The overly aggressive cops had left the man with broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a fractured collarbone all from a traffic stop that had started over a simple busted taillight. It was a story that was becoming all too familiar and made less and less sense each time that it was told. The division between the minorities of Charlotte and the people who policed them was growing further and further apart each day. Trust was at an all-time low and the relationship between the two sides was volatile at best. The treatment of people of color by law enforcement was as bad as it had been in decades. Because of this, Amara knew that she had to get out in the streets and protest. It was part of who she was, the way she was raised, and all that she stood for.

Freedom ain’t free, Amara said under her breath, as she checked her watch.

At 24 years young, Amara Lee was a complex, yet ultimately simple woman. She was a single millennial, taking college courses at Central Piedmont Community College in Charlotte while her job with Harper real estate agency paid the bills, albeit sometimes barely. Amara had dreams of opening her own real estate firm after graduating from college and then having her very own dream house built, but for the moment, her cozy one-bedroom apartment would have to suffice.

Eventually, Amara wanted what all young Black women wanted; a fair shot at the American dream. Visions of her and a loving husband sharing a huge property with a tomato garden, rows of bright purple Dahlias, and a swimming pool for their beautiful children to splash around in flooded her head every night, but in reality Amara lived in a world where that was difficult to find.

Amara knew all too well the struggles of finding a hard-working, faithful man that was into her and only her. The men Amara met only seemed to be after sex, and had more games than Parker Brothers. Nowadays, it seemed like men only wanted to Netflix and Chill from their Momma’s basement, and expected to be rewarded with the goodies. Amara was certainly not into that. She was not conceited, but rather knew her own worth, and wasn’t in the business of providing men with discounts.

Amara valued her body and refused to give it to some man just to fulfill a temporary physical desire. There had to me more. An emotional connection. A commitment. A sense of trust, faithfullness and loyalty. What Amara desired was a man that could touch her soul, and not just her body. Ideally, Amara was seeking real love. She wanted that type of love that extended from the bottom of a person’s soul to the furthest corner of the Earth, unimpeded by outside interferences. If Amara gave her all to a man, she expected it to be him, her and God. That was it. Amara wanted that old fashioned type of relationship where there were no on-break babies, side chics, secret lovers or back-up baes.  

Amara was an old soul who existed in a modern world crowded with the thirst traps and temptations that Instagram, Tinder and strip clubs provided. She existed in a world where good women and hoes were in a constant civil war, and currently the hoes were winning because they had way more soldiers on their side of the battlefield. Being a hopeless romantic with morals was playing out sadder than an old Mary J. Blige album for Amara, but she relentlessly kept her faith in true love, because as a very wise woman once told her, there was nothing like it.

Yo, where you at? Amara heard a voice say, as she walked out of her bedroom to see her front door cracking open.

Boy, I gave you that key for emergency situations. You can’t just be bustin’ up in here anytime you feel like it, said Amara, as her best friend Driq eased his way through the front door.

Why? You got a man in here or somethin’? sarcastically asked Driq, followed by a laugh that showed off his near perfect pearly whites.

Both Amara and Driq knew the answer to that question was a resounding no. It had been a long, long time since Amara had met a man other than Driq who was special enough to invite into her home.

I’m already running late Driq, what do you want? asked Amara.

I don’t want nothing, I’m just checkin’ up on you,

At 25, Driq was only a year older than Amara, but at times he acted overprotective like he was her parent. It was annoying at times, but Amara knew that Driq’s heart was in the right place.

Amara and Driq shared a friendship that had started back in junior high school, when some unfortunate circumstances had forced Driq to move down to Charlotte from New Jersey. The two of them had met in gym class. Back in those days, Amara was somewhat of a tomboy and loved to play basketball. Driq, who had been over 6 feet tall even back then, was the man when it came to hoops. He’d certainly have gone Division 1 and maybe even pro if it wasn’t for some of the choices that he made off of the basketball court.

Driq was the only one who sacrificed his time and worked with Amara every day until she was good enough to play with the boys and dominate amongst the other girls. Although their hoops dreams both eventually faded, they had been best friends ever since, without ever taking things to a romantic level. They shared more of a modern day version of Tupac and Jada Pinkett’s type of friendship, and it was surely a relationship that both of them valued deeply.

Just checking up on me, huh? That’s kind of what they make phones for, quipped Amara, sensing that Driq had other intentions with his pop up visit.

Here, he said, attempting to pass her a wad of rubber banded up cash.

Driq knew that the first of the month was coming and that Amara’s rent, insurance and car note would all be due. Around that time, things got a little tight for her, especially if she hadn’t been able to sell any homes in the past 30 days.

Driq, I don’t need any handouts. And you know how I feel about money that came from whatever your hustle is.

Nah, that ain’t no handout, Amara. And I got that money without breaking any laws. Just consider it an early birthday present, explained Driq.

And why are you being so generous? questioned Amara.

I just got back from Vegas this morning. I won almost 15 thousand, so I’m kind of in a giving mood, answered Driq.

Seriously?

Yep, said Driq as he helped himself to a bottle of water that Amara had left sitting on her living room table.

But you didn’t even tell me you were going to Vegas!

It was a last minute thing. My lil’ cousin Terry turned 21 yesterday and said he wanted me to take him out there for his birthday present. So I found us a nice room and a flight and we jumped on it, he explained.

I still can’t believe that boy is already 21 years old. I remember when he was riding his bike and playing football in the street, reminisced Amara.

Yeah, time is really just flyin’ by. We’re gettin’ old, nodded Driq.

Anyway, how is Lil’ Terry doin? I ain’t seen him in a while, inquired Amara.

"Terry’s cool. He’s in school to learn to cut hair but still chasin’ his rap dreams. He be hittin’ me up for money every week so he can go to the studio and record his mixtape, answered Driq.

That’s what’s up, said Amara, who was all for people chasing their dreams.

Yeah, he said he’s gonna get a record deal and get us matching Bentleys after he go platinum, laughed Driq.

Driq Malone was a man who led quite a lifestyle. He never had a 9-5 job, but always seemed to have money for frequent trips out of town. He had a nice apartment, two decent cars, and more clothes than his closet could hold. Driq  never admitted directly to Amara exactly what he did for a living, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that he was getting his money in the street life. Amara didn’t approve of it, and under most circumstances she wouldn’t even associate with a criminal, but she couldn’t picture a life without Driq as her best friend.

Amara was a strong believer in letting people make their own choices, live out their own lives and she focused on loving people for who they truly were and not for whom she wanted them to be. Although she constantly pleaded to Driq that he needed to change his lifestyle, Amara knew that people had to make their own decisions. Driq’s life was his own to live, not Amara’s.

Despite his flaws, Driq simply meant too much to Amara. She studied and believed in Wabi-sabi, and found beauty in a person’s imperfections. After all, every diamond starts off as a rugged piece of coal that no one can see, buried deep in the dirt and filth. It’s the time and pressure applied to that coal that forms the diamond that the world grows to cherish and adore.

Here, again said Driq, as he extended his cash filled palm in Amara’s direction once more.

Even though Driq swore the cash he was trying to push on Amara was legally obtained, Amara still had her qualms on accepting it.

No Driq, you’d better keep this. I’ll manage without it. I’m sure one of your 5 or 10 girlfriends needs this money much more than I do, teased Amara, as she refused the money again.

With a 6’3 chiseled frame covered in tattoos, enticing brown eyes, and a pair of lips