Ellen

By anthony l wallace

Malcolm's hard working, ambitious and loyal. But things change once he reconnects with an old love. She's married and he's in a relationship with the beautiful, but sometimes ghetto Renee. Affairs are messy, and there's always a price to pay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony L Wallace
• Release date: Jan 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9780986105814

Book preview

Ellen

Wallace Publishing LLC

PO Box 747

Peoria, AZ 85380-0747

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, historical events, is purely coincidental.

2015  Anthony L Wallace. 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 Wallace Publishing LLC 02/09/2015

ISBN: 9780986105807

Library of Congress Control Number:

Printed in the United States of America

Phoenix Arizona

Wallace Publishing LLC

Thanks to everyone that has played a role in my life. I love you all.

Thanks to all the readers out there, who make this dream a reality. Without your support there’s no me. Thanks to ALL of my family and friends.

God bless and happy reading.

Anthony L Wallace

1

I hate this damn job. I hate dealing with fuck heads eight hours a day. But you have to do what you have to do to pay the bills. Everyone thinks that they know this job better than yours truly.  And maybe they do. Hell it doesn’t take much to drive a fucking delivery truck.

Malcolm. Can I see you in my office?

Here we go. My punk ass supervisor Ken, with his fat short self, he reminds me of a short fat Tom Hanks.

Hey Ken. What’s up?

Close the door behind you please.

What do you need? I asked taking a seat.

You’re late every day getting back to the hub. I can’t have that. Not once did he look up at me. He kept his eyes on his computer screen.

I told you this last week. My GPS isn’t working. But you still haven’t fixed it

I’ll take care of it.

You said that last week. But you got me in here about being late.

He finally looked up. Cleared his throat.

GPS or not, I can’t have you coming back late.

Fix the GPS. And then I won’t be late.

He wanted to add to the conversation, but I got up and walked out.

So what did Ken want? James asked.

Damn you all in my shit. I said laughing.

James and I started this sad ass job at the same time, about two years ago. James is a true thug. He just doesn’t care. He has three kids with two baby mommas. He smokes weed constantly. I don’t know how he passed the drug screening.

So you can’t be late anymore? He asked.

Fuck Ken. I said climbing into my truck.

Word nigga.

I’ll see you later. I said.

I’ll see you Monday. I’m sure you’ll be late. He said laughing as he pulled off.

I turned on the radio, 96.3, they play all the shit that I like to ride to. I clicked my seatbelt and headed off. My first stop was at a little Bakery on the East Side. I had ten deliveries downtown, and then I stopped by my girl’s crib for a quick lunch and a little booty.

Renee and I have been seeing each other for about eight months now. I met her at a birthday party that James had for one of his kids. She’s cool for now, a little too ghetto for me, but the ass is right.

I was twenty minutes late coming back to the hub. But I didn’t care. Fuck Ken and UPS. I finished my paperwork and headed home. I made a pit stop at 500 liquors’. I needed a cold one. I made my way back to the freezers.

Malcolm, is that you? A soft voice asked.

I looked back. Oh shit, it’s my girl Ellen. I haven’t seen her since high school. She smiled. I tried not to make eye contact. Here I am in this fucking UPS uniform and she’s looking like a million bucks. We embrace. She smells as good as she looks.

It’s been a long time. She said looking me over.

Yes it has.

Something like. What? Eight years, I would guess. She said smiling.

You would be right. I said embarrassed at how my life has turned out.

Well, you look good. She said smiling.

No, you look good. And I do mean good.

Thank you.

Ellen, come on. What’s taking you so long? Asked a well-rounded brother.

I’m sorry. Honey this is Malcolm, we went to school together.

Nice to meet you. I said shaking his fat little hand.

This is my husband John.

You too. Are you ready? He asked. She nodded.

Good to see you. She said as her and her husband exited.

Damn, she looked good as hell. She looks better now than what she did in high school. I paid for my MGD’s and then headed home.

I lay on the bed eating left over’s and watching THE WALKING DEAD. My brother called me from New York. He’s a pain in the ass. He only calls when he needs something. I didn’t pick up.

I pulled my MacBook Pro from under the bed. I logged into Facebook. I had a few messages. I replied to a couple, the hell with the others.

I went to my home studio, which is really just a spare bedroom that I have some recording gear in. I’ve been making tracks for local artist for a few years now, nothing big, just cats trying like me to come up. I don’t have much, just an IMac, some Event monitors, Maschine and a M-Audio mini keyboard. I do all of my mixing and editing in Pro Tools.

My phone rings. It’s Dave. He’s the manager of a hand full of local artist. I do most of my business with him.

What’s up Dave?

Hey now. Have you sold that track Move" yet?

Not yet. You interested? I asked loading the track into Pro Tools.

Yes Sir. How much you want for it?

The same.

Four hundred?

Negro please, you know it’s five.

Just checking. He said laughing.

Hit my PayPal and I’ll email you the track.

Cool. Give me about ten or so minutes. He said.

Later.

I hung up. Fifteen minutes later I checked my account. The funds were there. I emailed him the track. I’m making a little money with this music shit, but far from what I want.

I made two new tracks before I showered and tried to called it a night. But I couldn’t sleep for shit.

I called my punk ass brother back. Just like I figured, he needed something, money. I don’t know where he thinks I get my money. I guess he believes that I can go out back and pick bills from the trees behind my house. I told him I wasn’t in a position to give him anything at this time. I could hear his disappointment. But I didn’t really give a shit. I got problems too.

That nigga made me so tired that I fell fast asleep once I hung up.

2

What you got going on today? Renee asked.

Nothing really. What’s up? I asked. I really didn’t feel like doing anything. But at the same time I didn’t want to sit at home.

You want to go to the Mall with me? She asked.

I didn’t. I hate the Mall. Well if she’s going out to Castleton, then I could stop at Guitar Center.

Sure. You driving? I asked.

I didn’t want to. But I can.

I’m not driving. I told her.

I hate riding in her bucket. But gas is too darn high, so I’m cool with not driving, plus I drive for a living. I need a break. I told her I needed to clean up first. I took a quick shower, shaved my face and head. I put on a pair of 501 jeans and a Ballhard tee shirt. I slipped my feet into a new pair of Nike Cortez.

I grabbed a beer from the icebox and waited for her