White Roses: A Novel About Redemption

By Johanny L. Vicente

Aspiring singer Jasmine Sanchez,
hides a mysterious painful past,
one who producer Andrew
Williams tries to unravel and help
her recover from. After recurrent
dreams about white roses, Jasmine
then learns shes an extraordinary dreamer who foresees
fragments of futuristic events she fails to understand.
Later Jasmine learns what the dreams portended and how
they changed her life forever. Jasmine learns that the only
way to let go of our past is by simply letting go of any
rancor and understand that only a life lived for others,
is worth living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453594001

Book preview

Copyright © 2010 by Johanny L. Vicente.

Library of Congress Control Number:    2010915132

ISBN: Softcover    978-1-4535-9399-8

ISBN: Ebook        978-1-4535-9400-1

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 book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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88379

For my best friend Angela; my # 1 fan

And for my mother; my guidance

Contents

Chapter One      ‘The color of my pain’

Chapter Two      ‘The end of the night’

Chapter Three      -Intermission-

Chapter Four      ‘Bury him alive’

Chapter Five      ‘Eyes of stone’

Chapter Six      ‘Killing me’

Chapter Seven      ‘Afraid to love’

Chapter Eight      ‘Don’t love me yet’

Chapter Nine      Thanksgiving

Chapter Ten      Contraception

Chapter Eleven      Complications

Chapter Twelve      ‘Innocent cries’

Chapter Thirteen      ‘The day he left’

Chapter Fourteen      Redemption

Chapter Fifteen      A new ending

Chapter One

‘The color of my pain’

The community of Great Arts Agency, is a school that executive producer Carson Myers is in charge of. The agency is from ages 14 and above, providing you with every artistic field a talented person would like to succeed in. Of course talent is the main requirement to get accepted in this special school.

Every year executive producer Carson Myers auditions about a hundred people from different states that come to New York City, for a chance to go national or get accepted in the school free of charges and with a two year contract with the agency.

This year however, Mr. Myers plans to go big-time, meaning he will find an aspiring talented singer whom he can promote and reach Hollywood fame with. This would give his record label recognition world-wide and obviously help him to acquire a great amount of money.

The singing auditions require the person to prove their talent in the following form: one complete sang piece with instrumental music in the background and the song of course needs to be written or created by the artist. Auditioning starts on September 21st of 2006. Two days from today.

Carson has little hopes of finding his one true talented artist who will be worth all sacrifices. The tryouts last exactly eleven days and he hopes to find his artist before the end of these eleven days.

So today is September 19, 2006. It was a rainy boring Tuesday when Carson stood in the auditorium demanding his employees who were in charge of decorating the room for the event that will be taking place soon.

I want this place fixed up well! he commanded as he felt he was standing on the border of a chaotic phase.

Mr. Myers, at what time do the auditions begin? a staff member asked.

One pm on the dot, he responded.

Come on people get to work, this isn’t Barney’s tree house hunt! Come on I have a meeting in a few, he spoke firmly.

Goddamn! Where the hell is Andrew? Carson was obviously stressed out.

Right here, Carson, Andrew approached.

Dammit Andrew, you’re a producer and you’re late! he scolded.

Relax old man, everything’s gonna be fine, I don’t know why you’re stressing so much, it’s just some dumb auditions, he said. Carson didn’t like that, not at all. He had enough pessimism coming from his part to begin with; he certainly didn’t need it from young Andrew over here.

Is that what you think it is, dumb auditions? You think I’d be investing time and money if I thought this was some piece of shit I do for the hell of it? This is it Andrew, we can find what we’ve been yearning for.

Oh come on Carson, do you really think we’ll find the person of your expectations? You know how difficult it is to mold under your standards? he questioned looking straight into Carson’s tired eyes.

Jesus man, when did you get so naïve? Look everyone’s doing all this because that’s the way you want it, but it will just be in vain, he elucidated elaborately pointing at everyone at work in the auditorium. But Carson still believed in a small possibility that will bring a great outcome.

I don’t have time for your negative attitude, boy, I just need you to help me here and all I’m asking is for your support, he calmly told Andrew who was still pessimistic about the whole idea and considered it absurd. He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Whatever man, you’re the boss, he reluctantly agreed. Carson nodded. Good, let’s get to work people, let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! he took a deep breath, for he too had some internal emotions of negativity. He tried not to think of any of them, he’ll overshadow the slight faith he still had left. And find himself going through a period of self-destruct, such as drinking and other habits Mr. Myers indulges in.

That day, Carson went home and thought thoroughly about this event and whether it was just a waste of time. I mean he will be getting new students, if they qualify, but he wants more. He wants a star, a person with celebrity qualities. He sat in his bar from that abandoned family room nobody seems to use anymore ever since his children grew and set off to college. Now it’s only his wife Irene and him, in a big fancy penthouse in The Archstone, Chelsea Manhattan.

What guarantees you that you will find peace at the bottom of a Johnnie Walker glass, my dear? Irene stood beside her desperate husband who is more of a business man than a family man. He relented into his wife’s arms without saying anything but hold me. He wrapped his arms around her waist and his head found rest on her bosom. She held him and brushed his hair with her fingers and said nothing at all. That was enough for him, his wife’s comfort that was all he needed, somebody not judging or opinionating on his decisions. Irene was the perfect source.

Not too far from Carson’s home in Chelsea, Andrew had entered his 618ft sq lonely but beautiful apartment. He played the role of his daily monotony. These are: come home, shower, nibble a bit and watch TV. And of course, the inevitable haunting thoughts that come at night when we find ourselves alone and free of any task requiring our fullest attention, leaving the mind vulnerable to these thoughts of incessant solitude and despair. When we recall certain moments of our lives where everything seemed stabled for us, and we relive that zeitgeist and spirit of the age. Then come the ponderous questions; when did everything change?

Andrew stood behind the fence of his balcony breathing the fresh autumn air, inhaling that crispy breeze in hopes of extracting the burdens out of his life.

He thought about Ella as he always did every night. Every day he agreed more and more with the quote that goes; ‘we don’t forgive, we just learn to cope’. He wondered, what would make him feel less miserable and when will he obtain it. But that’s the rule of life, all good things for those who wait.

It was finally September 21st and on that Thursday, Carson sat in the middle row on the tenth seat beside his second hand, Mr. Andrew Williams, who was one hell of a producer, salesman and pianist.

They were minutes away from initiating, and Carson seemed very nervous. The secretary, Claudia, who sat outside recording the names and information of the participants, walked in holding a list of names she had so far. She gave this list to Carson, who quickly read and got familiarized with the names. Andrew took a peek too.

Okay, send the first one in, Claudia, Carson demanded. She nodded and did as she was told.

A girl walked in slowly and shyly. She had long and thick black hair and wore these round glasses. She was a chubby young girl who made her way to the stage timidly.

Okay, hi! Carson shouted across the room.

Hello, she shyly replied.

You’re Nadia Lanes, twenty-years-old and you are from here, New York, Carson read her form. She nodded her head as she smiled timorously.

There was a pause, as they waited for the girl to begin. But the girl seemed so nervous she forgot the very reason to why she was here in the first place.

Andrew took a deep breath, this is amazing, he said sarcastically.

What the hell is going on with this chic? he murmured.

Ah . . . hon, you can begin anytime now! Carson shouted.

Oh yeah, sorry I’m very nervous. Um the title of my song is Obsession", she retorted".

The music in the background coming from the disc she handed the production of the agency began to play, and she began singing these words:

‘I don’t even know what happens to me, every time you give me ecstasy. I’m standing in the border of trust, inside and trapped in this crazy lust.

What can I do don’t ask me so; I really don’t even wanna know. This seems like a fantasy, I don’t want to be alone. It’s hard to admit that this is an obsession, oh! Obsession’.

As she sang, Carson along with Andrew noticed all her faults, like her voice was too loud for the piece she was singing.

‘. . . All you have to do is kiss me so; apparently my senses start to grow. This all seems like a game to me, the game of dishonesty. The way you trapped me is unbelievable, now you’ve become so unforgettable. It is still so hard to believe, but the truth I began to perceive. But sadly this is just an obsession.

At least I’m able to admit, that you are not the one for me. Just touch me ‘cos you know how, how to place me so above. But sadly this ain’t love, (sadly this ain’t love) but sadly this ain’t love (sadly this ain’t love) its obsession!’

She finished. There was a short moment of silence until Andrew cracked the ice.

It was a very nice song but her voice is horrible, he murmured to Carson who definitely agreed.

Uh, Nadia honey, you’re song was beautiful. But um . . . your voice is not too refined. Sorry darling, it’s a no, he said.

She nodded sadly, but took Carson’s rejection well. She walked down the stage and made her way to the exit door.

Um, Claudia, next please! Carson shouted.

Next, it was a young man who walked in. he was odd in appearance, as he wore dark shades, a black bandana and he seemed rude and harsh. He had a belly that clung and swung as he walked up the stage. Carson and Andrew looked at him awkwardly as he stood on the stage.

Uh . . . hello, Carson looked at him oddly. You’re Mikey?

The man nodded.

"I’m twenty-eight and I’m from Texas. I’m singing, ‘Possessed’" he spoke deeply and acutely as he had a country accent.

Carson and Andrew looked horrified; they looked at each other with opened mouths.

This is going to be long, isn’t it? Carson asked jaded already.

Yup, I told you so, Andrew replied.

After Mikey sang and got rejected, many others came. There was Paula, Linda, Raul, Brianna, Nelson, Brooke, Sheila, Bryant, Hudson, and Addison. Out of these ten contestants, only three got selected to join the school and get trained. Addison, Nelson, and Sheila were these lucky three. They were considered good, with potential, but not good enough for what Carson was hoping for. He didn’t want potential energy; he was tired of dealing with artists with hidden stored energy. No, he wanted one hell of a performance.

And that concluded the first day of the auditions. Both Carson and Andrew were very tired. And still Carson worried, for he hasn’t found his star. But he remained patient; he still had ten more days to go.

Today went smooth, tomorrow and every other day, we’ll be auditioning more people believe me, Andrew told Carson.

Yeah I know, he replied tediously.

Well, see you tomorrow, Carson, he gave him a pat on the back and smiled slightly. Carson just nodded, and the two professionals dispersed in separate ways.

Andrew walked outside and hopped in his car. He drove silently and pensively till he got home and went straight to bed after a brief shower.

And so the following day approached making Carson and Andrew feel restless. They began at ten am with a much clearer mind. That day they auditioned forty-five people! And only three were chosen. They finished around six pm and were both exhausted, but poor Carson was upset.

Carson, are you sure you wanna continue doing this? I mean, look man, you’re gonna end up disappointed.

Andrew, we already begun, the least we can do is finish what we started, he sharply replied.

And so the days processed by, leaving Carson and Andrew a little bit more tired every day, and still not much luck. Carson wasn’t satisfied. He wanted someone who could be more than just an artist, someone who was real with everything they expressed. On the third day, they tried twenty-one people. The following day it was thirty-two. On the fifth day: forty-one. The sixth day it was twenty-nine participants. The seventh day, thirty-six. The eighth and ninth day, twenty-eight. Yesterday it was twenty and today the final day. It was thirty-three so far. And with that amount of people Carson thought they should conclude.

Sorry, Carson, but I told you so, man. Maybe next year, Andrew told him as they sat still in the auditorium. Carson remained seated and thought sadly.

Let’s go home, he whispered.

Yeah, Andrew nodded.

Um, Mr. Myers, Claudia called as she entered the room. Both Carson and Andrew turned to her voice.

Yes, Claudia, Carson responded.

We still have one more, she just came in, she announced.

Tell her she’s late, auditions are over, Andrew suggested; as it was clear he had no interest in implementing any more of his time doing these pointless auditions.

No! Carson reacted suddenly.

Send her in, he commanded. Claudia nodded and Andrew took a deep breath as he was annoyed.

Claudia assured the girl that it was okay to come in, and so she did. She walked down the aisle all the way to the stage, in a confident neutral manner. Andrew was soon mesmerized by this young girl’s beauty. He stared at her and her beautiful dark brown long hair hanging and swaying as she walked. She wore a black sweater tight to her figure. With jeans that revealed how perfect her body was. She was beautiful, Andrew thought. But she looked devastated; with the kinds of eyes you definitely could have told tears seized her nights.

Hello! Carson shouted. He also had a good feeling about this girl.

What’s your name, darling? he asked.

My name’s Jasmine Sanchez, I’m twenty-three years old and the title of my song is ‘The color of my pain’, and that was how I introduced myself. And so I sang as I played the piano.

‘In my eyes I breathe and see the color of the pain you gave to me. It’s hard to see and accept this truth, and how your love destroyed my youth. And how my love just went in vain, crimson is the color of my pain.

(Chorus): Take me wind oh take me free, take me into the arms of him, the arms of who broke my heart, and left me breathing the color of my pain. Take me wind that I don’t know, I never learned to let him go. And now I must go on alone, my heart he turned into his throne.

I see the hurt that he has done; I wonder why I thought he was the one. I make myself each day believe, that God this love will soon retrieve. And when the sun consumes the rain, perhaps as well this crimson pain . . . . (Chorus 2xs) . . . .

And if I die with hurt inside, you’ll see them all through these brown eyes. So then you’ll say that it was true, I’ve always been in love with you . . .’

When I finished, a tear crawled down my cheek as I remembered the reasons to why I wrote this song.

Wow, she’s perfect, Carson was stunned as he had wide opened eyes and a cheek to cheek smile on his face.

I know, she’s gorgeous, Andrew whispered still mesmerized.

No, no, I’m not talking about her physical aspect, but about her in general, he made himself clear as he looked at Andrew.

She’s it, he exclaimed.

She’s the perfect artist, he added.

I got on my feet and Carson stood too along with Andrew.

Ms. Sanchez, Carson called with enthusiasm as he walked and stood close to me with Andrew who followed.

Congrats, you’re my winner! he shouted. That was good news, in fact it was great news but I couldn’t manage nothing more than a slight smile. I lacked the energy to do much more and rejoice. And Andrew noticed that.

Be here tomorrow at ten am and I’ll formally introduce you to the staff and crew. And show you around of course, Carson said to me and I nodded my head as a gesture of approval.

I told you we’d find the perfect artist, I told you, Carson happily boasted and told Andrew, who stared at me with so much je ne sais quoi. At one point, our eyes met and he looked profoundly into my eyes, as if he knew, my story.

Chapter Two

‘The end of the night’

The following day, I arrived at ten A.M as I was previously told. I walked inside the building with my hands still thrust in my jacket’s pockets. Early October’s chilly breeze was a reminder that a cold winter was approaching soon.

Hi, Claudia smiled and stood from her desk once she saw me walk in.

Hello, I softly said with a slight smile.

Mr. Myers and Mr. Williams are expecting you at the auditorium, she informed.

I’ll take you, she led the way and I followed browsing around with my eyes. This building was very nice and had a touch of antique decoration. Everything was clean and neatly organized.

Claudia opened the doors to the auditorium and announced my arrival.

Mr. Myers, Jasmine’s here.

Oh, that’s great, come on in darling, he said from the stage where he stood with Andrew.

And so I did, I walked in and Claudia left closing the doors once again.

Carson and Andrew came down and walked up to me.

Good morning, my star! he greeted me with a hug and a smile.

Hi, I shyly replied.

So I am Carson Myers, I know you probably already know that, but it’s policy and regulations that I repeat once you’ve joined in with us, he said to me.

And this is executive producer Andrew Williams; he’s also vice-president of this company. He’s your producer as of now. Andrew’s the best thing I’ve got, he’s like my right hand, he explained.

This is of course the auditorium, where the first rehearsals will take place, two doors down is the recording studio where you’ll be spending most of your time once you’re ready. My dear, I am at your command, anything you need don’t hesitate on asking, he finished. Carson was very nice to me, of course he was going to, and I meant money. I smiled, after he was very kind. Afterwards he walked out the room, leaving me with quiet and shy Andrew.

Come, let’s start, he gently led the way up to the stage, where we both sat before the piano.

You know, that was a very beautiful song you sang and performed last night, he complimented.

Thank you, you know what they say, good performances come out better when the feelings are true, I replied.

He remained suspicious at my answer and went further with more with one more question.

So, that means that you felt exactly what the words you sang say?.

Maybe, and then again, maybe not. Suspense and indefinite assumptions keep us in a certain balance, we can’t always own the answers to everything, I was acute with my response, I wanted him to think.

Okay, you’re right on that, he smiled and dropped the subject.

So, I’m suppose to help you compose a song you will be performing three weeks from now as your introduction to the media. I know it’s a short amount of time but that’s all we have. Sure for a woman as talented and beautiful as you this should be a piece of cake, he remarked as he stared at me and I looked away.

Any muse in particular or any idea for the song? he asked.

Absolutely, I responded.

Love?

Never, I stopped believing in that a while ago, I unwittingly confessed.

He paused and looked at me with depth, as if he had done a quick background check about me through my optic veins, and what they have seen.

Okay, well . . . how about . . . . He began to say before I interrupted.

How about deceit, and lies and hurt and depreciation; all that a man gives you, I expressed. There was a pause right after. I was so dark then, so angry but very hurt. And Andrew always knew, (he always did).

Uh . . . he stuttered, puzzled.

I’ll write it tonight, and we’ll work on it tomorrow when we meet, I proposed.

You know, I understand we’re all jerks, but it’s not every man’s mission to cause unnecessary and deliberate pain, he said.

This is the way I see it, Mr. Williams, genuine love is so rare that only those who are fortunate get to experience it. My perception, I’m just not one of them, I looked and said to him.

Perhaps your children will be one of those fortunate ones like you say.

My children? I asked confused.

Yes, those who you’ll have someday, if you don’t have any now, that is, do you?

No, Mr. Williams, I have no kids, I put an end to his curiosity.

Well, wouldn’t you like to someday? he asked me very softly staring still.

Yes, I would, I’d love to, I answered.

There you go, can’t have children without a man, he humorously said.

Pregnancy, what’s the point if they don’t even want them! I spoke firmly.

What? he was clueless.

Nothing, nothing, I rationalized and said back. I tried to retain my anger in the most profound spot in me. Keeping my tongue from revealing my past’s painful secrets that have made me what I am today.

Andrew chuckled and I was glad he didn’t wrestle anymore with my responses.

You’re pretty, but you’re odd, he smiled.

Don’t flirt with me, Mr. Williams, I said.

Call me Andrew, Mr. Williams, that’s my father. But I accept your idea, you can write the song yourself and we’ll work on it tomorrow. I understand it’s hard to think of something on the spot, he agreed.

Okay, thanks, I nodded.

Suddenly he placed his hand on mine and said to me:

Jasmine, I don’t know you and I don’t know your past or what you have gone through. I just want to let you know that, whatever it is, the sun will always come out tomorrow.

I gazed at him and quickly looked away.

Hours later, I left the agency with Andrew’s words weighing in my head.

It is so easy to advise and think you can take upon someone else’s problem and help resolve them, when it isn’t you going through the situation. Other people’s burdens are so much easier to acquire when they’re not your own. They just don’t understand that wise words like the ones Andrew said to me aren’t so helpful when you’re hurt. They won’t change the fact that you are in pain. Witty words like those just talk about tomorrow’s possible fate and not today’s. It’s all about tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Tomorrow’s another day, tomorrow the sun will come out, and tomorrow’s the cure for wounds. It’s all about how we can handle the day of tomorrow. But I don’t think I’m the only one who believes, that there are so many strategic plans and they all talk about what tomorrow will be like. Hearing methods of dealing with the outcome of the next day doesn’t take away the pain we feel today. Because at the end of day, when we find ourselves alone and grieving, it’s that moment that we think about, not tomorrow’s.

I took a cab home, the house that I purchased thanks to my parents’ help. It was a great location; I was very close to work and not too far from Jersey City. Chelsea, Manhattan was a wise choice after all. Three months before I lived with both my parents in New Jersey. But after what happened between my ex and me, I figured I had to get away and start fresh or at least be on my own.

I sat dropped my bag on the living room couch and removed my jacket and hung it on the peg. I nibbled a bit and walked upstairs where I laid on my bed strumming the chords of my guitar smoothly. I felt my eyes get watery and the tight knot that formed in my throat. I pushed my guitar away and sobbed on my pillow as I had some flashbacks of Jake.

Jake, why are you even bothering on denying it, I saw you kissing that girl! I cried confronting Jake who fidgeted and wouldn’t stay still.

Oh come on Jasmine, stop this! Alright, alright, it’s true . . . so I kissed her but I don’t like her, okay, he admitted and