Francine: A Novel

By Charles Carroll Lee

If a woman wants to marry and live the rest of her life with the "man of her dreams," she will do anything and everything in her power to bring it into existence - even if it means ridding herself of one interesting and significant detail. However, when family members discover her plans and become alarmed, she will race against time and employ the help of some unsavory elements to ensure her evil plans will not be thwarted.

"Francine" brings suspense, drama and intrigue, as well as some unfathomable schemes to the jaw-dropping conclusion. The Tidewater region of Virginia is the setting for this fast-paced and emotionally-moving novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669834205

Charles Carroll Lee

Charles Carroll Lee hails from Petersburg, Virginia. He is the author of five fiction novels and currently serves as the webmaster and social media manager for a local government agency.

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Copyright © 2022 by Charles Carroll Lee.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/20/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

842353

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 Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

For

Maureen Clark

Thank You

W.Y. Cross

and

Author Savannah Jackson

In Memory

Shirley Clarke Patton

Arnold Gilmore Young

Kate C. Stinson

Veronica Yvonne Friend Strane

Dian Fowler Smith

Kibby Nichole – the beloved dog

and

Wanda Denise Green

Chapter One

Tidewater, Virginia

I hate my daughter with a passion! Francine Douglass said to no one as she walked toward her two-bedroom rental home on South Custer Street after parking her Honda Accord a block away. She had just ended her shift where she washes dishes for an upscale restaurant in the busy downtown district that caters to the rich and powerful. I just hate her! Francine repeated while looking for her house key in her oversized handbag. The hot and humid weather made her black, long-sleeved uniform cling to her medium body frame. All she wanted to do once she entered the house was ignore her daughter and take a cool shower before she started her evening hustle.

Francine neighbors were factory workers, delivery drivers, professionals and paraprofessionals. They sometimes minded their business and hardly paid Francine any attention – unless she was conducting curbside service outside of her home. The neighbors all surmised that she was mean and wished that she would quit performing transactions out in the open. The police had visited her home on several occasions, but no arrests were made.

As Francine entered her home, which should have been condemned for housing and code violations; she glanced at her worn sofa, scratched coffee table and mismatched lamps. Her new television was a gift from one of her drug-dealing clients. He thought she and her daughter should at least have a nice new television set. Fuck my daughter! This will be my TV! Francine said to her client. She ain’t done nothing for me!

The homes on Francine’s quiet street are brick ranchers or well-kept two-story homes that were built in the late 1960s. All had manicured lawns, beautiful shrubbery and flower beds. If it wasn’t for Francine’s dilapidated house, South Custer Street would have been a nice backdrop for the old soap opera, Peyton Place.

Closing the door behind her, Francine found her twelve-year-old daughter, Deidre, sitting at the cluttered kitchen table doing her homework. Francine noticed her daughter’s coiled hair and slender figure. Her breathing became hard and heavy.

Hi, Ma! Deidre prayed that her mother would be in a good mood for once in her life. The pre-teen counted the days until she could spend a few weeks with her aunt, uncle and cousin. She would get her hair fixed, take hot showers and do some things she wanted to do without any judgement or criticism from her mother.

Mind your business! Francine retorted as she sauntered toward the beige refrigerator to retrieve a beer. She would shop for groceries when Deidre went away for a while.

Yes ma’am.

And don’t speak to me or look at me unless I ask you to. I’ve told you that a million times and you still don’t listen to me. God, how I hate you…, Francine spat out followed by a long swig of her ice-cold beer.

With her brown eyes filled with tears, Deidre stood up to leave the kitchen. Francine suddenly noticed that her daughter was probably about a couple of inches taller than her. However, Francine, thirty-eight years old, was a short woman standing at five feet two inches. She figured that Deidre would be a tall woman in a few years.

Did you ask me to be excused?

No ma’am.

You may be excused. Go to your room, Francine stated as she savored the cold beer flowing down her throat.

Thinking of Deidre and her slender teenage figure, medium brown complexion, hair that’s probably shoulder length, if it was straightened and styled and expressive eyes, Francine realized that her daughter looked just like her biological father. Deidre didn’t bring in the child support payments, marriage or acknowledgement she had hoped from her father. Deidre was just dead weight to her.

Francine had grown up in a middle-class home complete with a mother, father, and a sister. She had not wanted or needed anything growing up because her parents provided well for her and her sister. However, it just wasn’t enough for her. She just wanted more in life like what those black Hollywood celebrities she admired seemed to be enjoying in real life. Francine was enamored with parties, drugs, clothes, liquor and orgies. The drugs and liquor gave her a false sense of hope and well-being. And she only wanted to marry a man if he was rich or at least upwardly mobile. Children would be a byproduct of the union, but not a necessity for her.

She dropped out of community college after one semester and worked odd jobs until she could save some money to rent a house. Francine’s parents were gracious enough to let her live with them until her attitude became too much for any parent to bear.

Now, standing in her tiny bathroom, Francine took notice of her short, stylish haircut, full breasts, hips and lips. She had been called cute on several occasions, but most men and women say her foul mouth and nasty attitude takes away from her cuteness. Fuck you! was always Francine’s reply to these types of comments.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Francine retrieved some paper bags from the kitchen cabinet and dropped a bag of weed and a lighter in each one. She folded the top of each of the bags and stapled them closed. It felt like she was getting ready for Trick or Treat, but it was for her curbside service operation. The angry mother placed a container of cocaine on the kitchen counter, retrieved a razor blade and divided the liter of coke on a clean mirror. For those who wanted to come inside her two-bedroom rental, they would be able to take a hit for a fee. This convenience was only for her preferred customers and those that she knew very well. Naturally, Francine didn’t want to get arrested by some undercover cops.

Curbside service started 8:00pm until midnight in front of her home most days of the week except for Tuesdays and Sundays. Therefore, she parks a block away so her customers can have exceptional service and a quick getaway. In addition, Francine had no reason for not selling drugs on Tuesday, but Sundays was the Lord’s Day and a day of rest. Francine placed her bags in an oversized handbag and stepped outside of her house. She had previously instructed Deidre to stay in her room after 8:00pm, which she obeyed.

One by one approaching cars flicked their headlights at Francine while the driver held his or her hand outside the car window. Francine took the folded money and handed each driver a brown paper bag. Thanks for your business, was her standard reply. While transacting business, Francine noticed a few neighbors peeping from their windows. She mouthed, Fuck you, to each of her nosy neighbors. Sometimes, she would give them the finger or turn around and pat her fat ass at them. Francine knew this would anger some of those church-going folks.

Later that evening, Francine enjoyed a profitable night of selling drugs. Her coke snorting friends normally arrived close to midnight while Deidre was fast asleep in her worn bed. Noticing the arrival of a late model Land Rover, Francine became mildly excited. It was her favorite coke-friend, Willie Bartee. He was in his mid-forties, average in height and looks and missing several teeth. However, Francine thought he had the best dick in town. So, she was willing to overlook some of his inadequacies in favor of his dick.

After quickly checking to make sure Deidre was fast asleep, Francine opened the front door. There she found Willie dressed in black jeans and a hoodie along with a pair of designer sneakers.

Hey, Shawty! Willie greeted her as he barged into Francine’s house.

Hey, yourself, Francine said as she closed the door behind him. At least he smells good, Francine thought. Want a hit?

Of course. How’s it going, and where’s your daughter? Willie asked as he followed Francine to the kitchen.

She’s asleep. That heifer.

Wiping his nose from the coke, Willie offered, I don’t know why you hate your daughter. She seems smart, very pretty and respectful.

Well, whatever, Francine sarcastically replied. She leaned over the worn kitchen counter to inhale the white powder.

Out of the blue, Willie asked, Why don’t you fix this place up? Your neighbors’ homes are on point and you living in this shack. I know you’re making nice money from selling drugs. He reached into his pocket and gave Francine a small roll of cash for supplying the cocaine.

Because I hope my daughter will get tired of living like this and move away from here, she replied, counting the rolls of bills.

She’s only like, what, fourteen?

Twelve.

Ohhhhh…..damn! Thought she was older than that! Willie replied in amazement. Where’s her pops? He asked leaning over the kitchen counter one more time. Willie didn’t want to sit on one of the nearby chairs because they all looked old and rickety, and he wasn’t sure they would support his 250-pound body.

He’s around here somewhere with his wife and family. That bastard…

After a few more hits and some light banter between the friends, Francine escorted Willie to his black late model SUV complete with all the bells and whistles. She wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but he was good company and good in bed when they were both horny at the same time. Standing on the passenger side of his vehicle, Willie studied Francine’s cute face under the starry midnight sky.

He whispered, If you want, I have a way to take Deidre off your hands. No one will be the wiser. I see you replied to the ad on social media. I’m here to help you.

Really? I’ll need some cash for the transaction.

No problem. I’ll let you know what I’m talking about, if you really want to know. Think about it and let me know, Willie replied as he pecked Francine on the lips.

This was the first time Francine had smiled all day.

Chapter Two

Dylan Michael McQueen, forty-four years old, works as a senior human resource consultant with one of the most prestigious firms on the east coast. The HR firm is responsible for recruiting and selecting CEO’s and upper-level management positions for non-profit and local government agencies, and a few Fortune 500 companies. His firm also develops comprehensive training programs for employees. Dylan is a graduate of Norfolk State University in Norfolk, Virginia where he served as drum major for the university’s marching band. After college, Dylan obtained a master’s degree in business administration with a concentration in human resource management.

He is married to Janelle and is the father of Dylan Michael McQueen, III better known as Buddy to his father and Michael to his mother and everyone else. One close relative refers to him as Buddy-Michael. When Dylan’s son was born, he and his wife were trying to think of a nickname for the newborn. The baby smiled when Janelle called him Michael, but not for Dylan. Slightly annoyed and trying a friendlier approach, Dylan said to his son, Look, Buddy – we need to call you something. Just at that moment the biggest smile formed on the baby’s face. Dylan repeated Buddy one more time just to make sure. The baby smiled and giggled with glee. Now, I’ll call you Buddy from now on! the new father proclaimed.

Dylan, handsome by anyone’s standards, stands at six feet one inches tall with an athletic build. He has a full head of partially curly hair, which was beginning to display streaks of gray like his five o’clock shadow. Dylan’s hazel-colored eyes sometimes gave him a haunting look.

Besides being married to Janelle and working as an HR consultant, Dylan enjoyed helping the now 12-year-old Michael with his social studies and science projects.

Approaching his home after a day at the office, he thought of a school project that he and Michael worked on. The main floor of the palatial house included an off-white open concept kitchen and living room overlooking a large patio deck with a remote-control led accordion door. Everything on the first floor was decorated and accentuated with African design and large, comfortable upholstered furniture to include a wide screen flat TV above the fireplace. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms were located on the other side of the expansive house. The master bedroom contained an en suite