A Second Too Late

By Bridgette Ballard

A Second Too Late
Imprisoned for his past mistakes, Angel gets a second chance at life. While Angel attempts to embark on a new journey his past is pulling him in the opposite direction, when a friend from the past introduces Angel back to his old ways. As time passes Angel gets into trouble and is on the run from the authorities with blood on his hand's and money knocking on his door Angel finds himself in the same situation before he was incarcerated the last time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469167121

Bridgette Ballard

Bridgette Ballard was born and raised in Arizona and have lived in Arizona her entire life. She has been writing poetry, music lyric's etc. her entire life. It's her great passion. Her goals in life are to reach out to as many people as she can through her writing. If she could save the world, she would. She tries her best and does what she can on day to day bases by doing what she loves most and that is writing. She has been writing all her life from poetry to song's and now books and comic books. It’s a great passion of hers. She enjoys painting, drawing and pottery. Family is the most important thing in her life. She has three sisters and a loving a supportive mother who encourages her to be the best at everything she does. It is because of her family that she is the woman she is today.

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Copyright © 2012 by Bridgette Ballard.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4691-6711-4

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-6712-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

It was the end of May where the sun was bright, beating off the ladies and gentlemen tanning at the poolside beach at the country club. It was beautiful outside, the weather was overcast, and the temperature in the midseventies—perfect for Memorial Day. Along the dockside, there were fathers and sons fishing. You could see that people took advantage of the lakeside view because there were many boats out today.

This was my first appearance at the clubhouse; being a member of the neighborhood, I was automatically considered a member of the clubhouse as well. It was a very trendy spot to be. At the country club, they had all types of different activities to participate in. They had swimming lessons and held competitions there; they had tennis courts and racquetball courts as well as volleyball nets. They also had a workout facility with a humongous waterfall with gorgeous fish in it. They even had a gazebo where you were able to have parties for those who reserved it. It was a beautiful spot. They were always hosting weddings that overlooked the lake with the beautiful sunsets. Arizona had amazing sunsets, nothing like I’ve ever seen—colors from pink, purple, blue, yellow, etc. It was very calming.

Chapter Two

My family and I had just moved from the coast of Cape Cod, an island of Maine. It’s a small town compared to Phoenix. The capital of Maine is Augusta, our insect is honeybee, our state bird is chickadee, our flower white cone and tassel, our fish landlocked salmon, our song State Song of Maine, and the tree of Maine is the eastern white pine. The nickname of our state is Pine Tree State. Maine is known for their famous harbors, beaches, historic town trails through moors and forests, our outdoor farmers and artisan markets, and of course, my favorite—our lighthouses. I love my town; I know everything about it and most everyone in it.

My family and I had a beautiful breeze house with four bedrooms and three baths built from the ground up by my mom’s liking. She had a rich, elegant Victorian taste. There were cherry walls all throughout the entire home; we had fireplaces in every room. We had a chef’s kitchen. I don’t know why my mom had put so much money into it, not like any of them ever cooked. In fact, I don’t think they even knew how. All our windows were tinted to block out the sun. We had a giant porch that wrapped all the way around on the bottom half as well as the top half. We had an acre of land with a pool and a Jacuzzi and a volleyball net in the sand—a place to play tetherball. We had domes built in the back where I ride quads and dirt bikes. Our family doctor, Wayne, sure did receive a lot of family house calls as much as I wrecked. I had stitches just about everywhere you could think. My mom had a second addition added to the house where she made it into her workout room. My dad had a shop in the backyard so he could work out frustrations with his hobbies. He collected plastic cars, airplanes, and boats. He painted them and put them together. He could have sold them, that’s how good he was. He had the finished airplanes hanging from the ceiling. Along the walls, there were shelves and shelves of cars and boats. I have to say that was my favorite room besides my room.

My room was just as big as the master bedroom. I had double doors with the letters of my name on them stating this was Candice’s room for all our guests and company to see. My room was off-limits just in case they wanted to tour the house when we had parties. My room had a cherry red carpet with a cherrywood king-size bed frame with a red quilt and tons of body pillows I could never get enough of. Above my bed, I had the Nelson Mandela 1994 inaugural speech scrawled out in old English. I read that poem every morning when I woke up. I was able to set the AC temp different in my room than the house, which was wonderful. I loved to be cold. I had a TV projector where I just watched movies on the wall. In my room, I had a built-in sound system on the sides of my bed, a Victorian coffee table with two chairs in one of the corners of my room, a black leather love chair with a throw-over blanket resting on its arm, a cherrywood desk that had my laptop as well as my main computer on it with a copier, fax, photo printer, and my iPod hooked up to my main sound system so I could listen to the songs I downloaded. I had a waterfall on one wall that lit up with different colors at night. With a housephone, my parents and I had separate lines. My closet was huge; it was a double-door walk-in with at least thirty feet of walking space, and it was jam-packed. I had to start using spare bedroom closets for my new clothes. I was a fanatic when it came to clothes and shoes and accessories. My bathroom had a sunken tub you could fit six people in if you wanted to as well as a walk-in shower that could fit the same amount of people. One wall had an entire body mirror, which was good for when I needed to put on my makeup and try on different outfits. On my sink counters, I had two cinnamon candles and six lined up along my bathtub. I loved candles. My mom’s house truly was her masterpiece, and my bedroom was mine.

Chapter Three

I was attending college preparatory for Vanderbilt University; that’s where I met most of my friends. It used to be females would just be admitted as day students, but in 1973, it was boarding females as well. I went home on holidays and cooked for my mom and dad. I knew how to cook because I took baking classes at my school.

Nothing like a little holiday gossip. Being gone for so long, the gossip built up, and there was always plenty to catch up on. My mom would fill me in on all the town’s scandals, from the latest nose job to who was cheating on whom. A week home for the holidays was enough to make my ears bleed. My mom and dad would always at least have one argument when I come home. They butted heads a lot. My mom and dad were both Scorpios. I was a Gemini. We were very different and at the same time so much alike.

There was always a gift waiting for me when I got home sitting on my computer desk in my room, and every time I ran downstairs, I acted surprised though I knew they had a gift waiting for me. My dad would be sitting in his godfather chair (that’s what he called it). He had it arranged where he would be facing the fireplace with his hand wrapped around my mom’s waist, smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper. No matter what time of day it was, they waited for me to jump on his lap; no matter how big I got, he expected it. I wish I could say my family and I moved because my dad received a better job offer or vice versa, but that would be a lie.

Chapter Four

I was a good kid all my life. Growing up in a small town, you were either a good kid everyone praised about, or you were the bad kid everyone whispered about behind the parents’ back at the hottest nightclub, pretending like the black sheep’s parents couldn’t overhear their conversation, and they probably wouldn’t have had if the bartender hadn’t left his microphone on for the entire club to overhear them talk. It did happen once. It was very embarrassing for that girl who was impregnated by her high school quarterback boyfriend. In small towns, people either loved you, and if they hated you, you’re better off tracking down the road and laying roots somewhere else, if you know what I mean. I graduated college preparatory with honors. I had the highest GPA in my senior class. I was prom queen and valedictorian at my graduation where I recited the Nelson Mandela 1994 inaugural speech before the graduating class took off their hats and flung them in the air. I was offered the very best scholarships. My mom and dad owned that underground nightclub in town. One of the most embarrassing things is to have your parents find out their little girl has been impregnated by her high school quarterback boyfriend from local towners in their own club. It was the most very embarrassing thing to have happened to my family. The only reason they found out is because it was the hottest gossip in town. My mom and dad were irate. They sent me home knowing they were already short staffed, and Friday night was their busiest night of the week. That’s when all the blue-collared workers would bring their wives for food and dancing. It was the hottest and most trendiest spot to be on a Friday night and, well, the only place to be if you were somebody special. Not to mention it was a tourist spot. When we did have celebrities visit our town, which was quite often due to the fact that my dad was a well-known businessman that rubbed elbows with the highest class society offers, from celebrities to politicians. It’s always good to have judges in our pocket, if you will, considering my dad funded majority of their campaigns anyhow, not to mention my dad had some relatives in the Mafia. They were always conducting business transactions that always involved some help from the judges.

Chapter Five

My family was considered the golden family—the richest family in our town. Compared to the city, well, I guess I can say the same thing. We swam in money; we bathed and showered in it. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t have, and nothing was out of my reach. If that didn’t help my chances, let’s just say my family’s gene pool was stronger than others. We were blessed all the way around. We had looks, in addition it just so happened my daddy had a chain of nightclubs under his name and sixty years of pride underneath his belt. My mom is the same way beautiful but prideful. She is twenty years younger than my dad. My mom is only twenty-two years older than me.

She was shorter than me—five-six, short blond hair, blue eyes, and had the prettiest smile and a drop-dead physique. Men loved her. She was intelligent, witty, and funny. I guess you could say I followed in their footsteps being that my mom met my dad in their senior year at Vanderbilt University. Whenever we were invited to parties, some envious nobody trying to make a quick buck would yell out, Here comes the golden family heads with blond hair and blue eyes walking in! and everyone stared. There wasn’t a pair of eyes that didn’t.

Chapter Six

After I left my parents’ underground nightclub that evening, I came across some railroad tracks and waited as the train passed by. I had to turn my ringtone to silent because my phone kept going off. The last text I read said, Where you at? Your dad just told the local towners drinks on the house tonight. I was so zoned out, I didn’t even notice the name of the person who texted me, let alone bothered to reply. I was too busy thinking about what my next move was going to be. I could get married and live forever in a small town. Adopt the baby out to a nice family. Have an abortion, go home, and make my grandma’s sweet apple pie recipe and let that sweeten them up to have a civilized conversation with the situation at hand. Maybe one of those ideas would have worked out if I hadn’t hurt their pride in front of the entire town. I was so sure I had hurt their pride so bad, they had no choice but to exile me out of the family, and I would be destitute raising my baby in poverty and on a set income. I didn’t want to think of the idea distasteful as it made me sick to my stomach, or was that the baby reminding me why I was in the situation I was in the first place.

Instead of going home, I decided to take a drive through the cities and reflect on the decisions that led me here. It was a beautiful night though hard to see out the windshield of my BMW with the rain and all, but anything was better than going home considering what had just happened at my dad’s nightclub. My luxurious car was a beauty. It was black with silver stripes that went around the entire car. It had black leather interior, a sound system that could blow your eardrums out, and three mini televisions—two in the back, one in the front. I had a smokin’ GPS system; I was never lost no matter where I went.

Chapter Seven

My dad loved to spoil me, being his only child and all. Well, that’s what I thought when I was growing up. It happened about five years ago when my daddy blamed his entire other family he had living in New York due to a midlife crisis. He had a wife and four kids and a dog too, I suppose. He owned a nightclub down there. I guess that’s how he and his other wife had met. She was a photographer for nude models. My dad had met her through some of his connections.

My mom found out because my dad kept making reasons to go down to the Manhattan club. She finally got so fed up with lies, she followed him to a house he had in Manhattan. It was a newer modern mansion. My dad only enjoyed the best quality money can buy. My dad had put the house under his other wife’s name so my mom would never find out, but that backfired. They had two Corvettes, one Hummer, a Cadillac, a boat from tree houses—the whole nine yards. My mom was so devastated when she found out, but he made up for it in cash and diamonds. It just so happened my mom was going through the same thing. She had a little side project going on herself.

Ever since she had found out about his affair, she and my daddy have had an open relationship. My dad had two wives and five kids altogether. I never did meet them but saw pictures often due to the fact that my daddy hung pictures of his Manhattan wife and kids all over his office. Hoes in other area codes kinda rings a bell. Ever since my mom had caught my dad cheating on her, she always scheduled male company right before my dad would get home. He caught her a few times with the bartender from my dad’s club. He caught them fucking over the stairway, on the bathroom counters, on the couch inside the pool—pretty much everywhere, but he never did do anything about it. I suppose he felt he had it coming to him, I don’t know.

Chapter Eight

I heard my mom talking on the phone with one of her friends, Sydney Johnson. Joe Johnson was Sydney’s husband. They were newlyweds born into money. Her daddy found lots of gold in Superstition Springs Mountain. Evidently it paid off, and you know Joe wouldn’t have married Sydney if she hadn’t paid for his entire family debt, and my mom, she won’t socialize with anyone less fortunate than her. My mom was telling Sydney that my daddy had walked in on her and John the bartender again in their own bed. This time, instead of throwing John out of the house, he joined in and fucked my mom in the ass while John stuck his dick in her mouth. Seems to me my mom was excited