Tied up in Beau

By E H Shepherd

My name is Beautiful Kierra Jackson. A name like that is almost a guarantee of bullying, but it’s not the entire story of my life. It all started when my Granny, the woman who raised me, died. She was my only living relative until I discovered that wasn’t exactly true at her funeral. It’s where Desmond, better known as Uncle D, introduced himself to me and where my downfall began.
Once Granny died, I became a candidate for social services unless another relative agreed to let me live with them. Uncle D was gracious enough to do that, but on one condition. I could become the cash pickup person for his criminal activity or live in a group home until I became legal.
So began my life of crime. Okay, it wasn’t a long career, only a few months, and I took the money and ran to coin a phrase. Stupid, I know, but what’s a girl to do under the circumstances? I’m not built for that lifestyle. Besides that, Granny would be so disappointed in me.
After ditching my car and cell phone, I hiked to the Peachtree Amtrak station for a ticket on the midnight train from Georgia. A ticket to anywhere Uncle D wouldn’t find me.
Only a ticket became unnecessary when this cute guy named Kash strolled up and asked me for a favor. You’d think I’d learned my lesson by now, but again he was cute and polite and offered me a free ticket if I pretended to be his girlfriend until we were safely on the train.
Who wouldn’t accept those terms? After all, he had just literally saved my life. But saving me placed Kash in danger, and the story of how he became tied up in my mess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian E Moore
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005280055

E H Shepherd

E. H. Shepherd is a pseudonym I use to express my creativity as a writer. I will continue to use this name for future projects. Meanwhile, I should tell you a few things about the real me. I’m southern-born, the last to show my face to the world as the eleventh child, after seven brothers and three sisters. I thank my mother for introducing me to books at the early age of three. It inspired me to read more and prepare for my writing and author journey. Words are essential to who I am as a person. With the ability to change lives, evoke creativity, and drive the imagination to unbelievable limits. My joy comes from writing and sharing this gift with readers. I love chatting with other authors about books; they understand how my brain works. I also host a weekly Podcast, Book Chat with Author Vivian E. Moore, where I share my writing expertise and invite guests to do the same. I desire to uplift and inspire future artists to showcase their talent. Writing is my ministry; my goal is to enrich minds one page at a time. Family life is equally essential, and I enjoy spending quality time with my children and grandkids.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

What I’m about to do will probably be the death of me. Well, if I stay, the result is the same. That’s why I gotta go. It’s a life-or-death situation if he catches me. I mean, what’s a girl to do when faced with little to zero alternatives?

My uncle D has a specific skill set. Too bad it’s not helpful, something like finance or anything positive. Instead, he’s a career criminal, a deadly drug lord in Atlanta. He’s earned that rep, and I’ve witnessed enough carnage to scare an average thug into making a lifestyle change. I’m no thug, and why I’ve decided this life is not for me.

Granny would be so disappointed in me, and I couldn‘t blame her if she came back from the grave and chewed me a new one after what I’d been up to these last few months. I deserve every lick because she warned me to stay away from him, but I had no choice. Granny died. I’m a minor, and the court placed me in my situation. How is a known criminal assigned custody, anyway? So, technically, this is not my fault. Not only did the system screw me over, but I didn’t help matters much when I took a job doing pickups for Uncle D. Not because I wanted to, but because he left me no choice. He said I didn’t fit the typical criminal description. Too pretty and innocent looking for anyone to suspect otherwise. Uncle D was right, and how I became involved in criminal activity.

Okay, that’s not the whole truth. I needed the money to pay back taxes on Granny’s house, so there wasn’t that much arm twisting applied, and I had only to visit a few quote-unquote customers, then take the cash to my uncle. That was the plan. Until I almost got caught in a crossfire between his rivals.

It made me question my sanity doing something so stupid and dangerous. Besides, Granny invested countless hours, keeping me on a straight and narrow path. And what’s the first thing I do? Get myself in a world of trouble.

No worries, Granny, I understand now and, pardon the pun, why I took the money and ran. Not what I had planned when I started my day. Now I need to get away without getting caught. Tricky is an understatement. My uncle has figured out what I’ve done. It didn’t take him long after I was a no-show with the cash. OH CRAP! I say and cringe at the name on my screen when my cell rings; I ignore the call that goes to voicemail. Next, I receive a text from him. "Where the fuck r u, Beau!! Get here with my money or else."

Right. I switch the phone off, grab my backpack, already filled with essentials, then ditch the car along with the cell he gave me somewhere he’ll never look. It’s not like he can call the police to report a theft or me, MIA. Yes, he’s my temporary guardian, but Uncle D would never bring attention to himself and his illegal operation. So, that means he’ll hire people to find me.

My uncle is an evil genius, but I’m smarter than that. I’ll admit stealing money from a criminal is stupid. But I had zero options and no time to develop a better plan, even if I’m a quick thinker with an IQ the same as Bill Gates. I’m off my A-game today. The way I figure, I have less than an hour to get the hell out of Dodge before Uncle dearest finds me, and I become just another statistic of this cruel-hearted world.

CHAPTER ONE

BEAU

I arrive at the Peachtree Amtrak station with twenty minutes to spare. The next train leaves within the hour—the only solid part of my plan. At least I made it here safe and sound. I try to act inconspicuous, easy when most people here have eyes glued to their phones, air-pods engaged in casual clothes like I am, making it easy to blend. There’s a lady with a kid making a complete ass of herself flirting with some guy—dressed as if she’s just left a night out with her girlfriends, stilettos and all. The unlucky guy tries his best to be friendly as her kid, a little girl, laughs at something he says. I guess her age is six or seven, and her mom is at least thirty. But the guy is not much older than me, a college student. He’s dressed in board shorts and a hoodie; how old could he be? Too young for the cougar, but hey, the guy is gorgeous—tall, broad shoulders, and well-built, from what I can tell. When he turns, searching for an escape route, I get my first good look at him. His eyes land on me, and I look away. Too late. He’s coming my way.

Crap! What do I do now? Run or ignore him? I can’t run. That would create unwanted attention. So, I stay where I am and wait for him to approach me.

You’re late, the cute guy says and glances over his shoulder at the lady, checking to see if she’s still there. Yep, she is and doesn’t look thrilled about his abrupt departure.

Um, you’re confused, I say and try to back away. He notices that and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

Play along, please. All I want is to get on the train without being recognized, he says.

Well, hell, that’s all I want too, but who’s he running from? He could work for my uncle here to bring me back for judgment.

You see that lady over there?

You mean the one in the tight dress and heels?

That’s her. She knows who I am, and I’m not up for that tonight. So, if you just pretend you’re my girl, she’ll leave me alone.

Why would I do that? Just tell her to go away, I say, while trying to extricate myself from him.

I’d love to, but I can’t. The press would have a field day with that. Please, I’ll return the favor if you just help me out. Have you purchased your ticket yet? If not, I’ll buy one for you. Where are you headed?

None of your business. Jeez, who is this guy? A celebrity or something? But it could solve another problem, which lessened the paper trail for my uncle to follow. It’s why I hadn’t headed for the bus terminal or airport. I was too scared to do more than search departure times on my phone before I surrendered it. CHILLS RUN DOWN MY SPINE at the text he sent me.

Okay, you’re right, he says, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Hey, what the hell, dude? I hiss through gritted teeth.

Sorry, but I need to convince her we’re a couple. Otherwise, everyone on this platform will want to take pics and ask questions. All I want is to make it on the train and to my seat without complications. Please?

Is this guy serious? He could’ve approached at least four other girls, but he chose me. Hmm, then I stare up at the heavens and wonder if Granny had the inside scoop on heavenly interventions. This one bears her approval.

Cool, I’ll do it, and you can buy me a ticket to wherever you’re going.

Deal. But that won’t be necessary. You’ll be my guest.

No, thanks. I’ll take the ticket, and we can call it even, I say.

No, that won’t work for me. That lady over there doesn’t seem like someone who takes no for an answer. New York is an eighteen-hour train ride from Atlanta. That’s too many hours to be alone with her on the prowl.

So, we’re headed for the Big Apple. Excellent, my uncle will never find me there.

Okay, fine. But keep your lips and hands off, got me?

No problem, he smiles. I’m Kash, by the way, and you are?

Beau, I say no more. The less he knows about me, the better for us both.

Cool name, I like it. So, Beau, Kash says, then leads me past the cougar and her child to inside the station to await my escape to safety.

CHAPTER TWO

BEAU

Again, I ask, who the hell is this guy? Kash is more skittish about being noticed than I am. I know my reason, but what’s up with him? Before the train arrived, he kept his head down, hiding his face from public view. Not only that kept a close eye, and his hand planted in mine as if he feared I’d bail on him. No worries there; he was my literal ticket to freedom. Although Kash kept a low pro, his handsomeness was still noticeable. That hoodie couldn’t hide the glossy black curls that peeked out from the baseball cap he wore under it. Maybe he was someone famous, like a pop star or rapper. Naw, his language and manners were too polished for that. I sneaked another peek at him and caught him gazing at me. His eyes are an unusual blueish green. Gotta admit I’ve seen nothing like them before. At least not a brother with eyes like that. I assumed he was mixed, judging from his curly locks and olive complexion. His skin tone is only a few shades lighter than mine. I guess he spent hours outdoors in the sun; he had a tan line visible at the edge of his sexy board shorts.

He smiled at me and winked. Holy crap, the boy had thumbprint dimples, what my granny called them, and the whitest teeth that seemed to sparkle when the light hit them. Make no mistake, I liked boys, but they just never seemed to like me back. Not the way I wanted them to. I’m almost seventeen and never kissed. Well, until today, when Kash kissed me on the forehead. I swear the spot where his lips met my skin still tingled. My belly tied in knots during my departure from Atlanta. After the knots loosened, aftershocks started within my solar plexus. Once the train arrived, we boarded and sat in Kash’s private suite. WTH? Who is rich enough to have an entire suite to themselves? Kash is, obviously.

Make yourself comfortable, Kash says. He takes my backpack and tosses it to an empty seat. There are two suites, including bathrooms.

All this belongs to you? I can’t help asking. It’s like an introduction to the real rich and famous. My uncle lived a lavish lifestyle, but it wasn’t legit. How could it be when his riches are ill-gotten gains? He invested that money in cars and other questionable activities.

No, I’m only a passenger. I travel by train because planes aren’t my thing. Besides that, it’s a peaceful ride and private, thus the reason for this suite, Kash says.

Well, it’s spacious for one person. What are you, anti-social? I say. Kash laughs as he rummages around in his duffle.

Not at all. But I do like comfort, and since we have a long ride ahead of us, it makes sense to book a car with sleep and grooming accommodations.

Yep, makes perfect sense. I’d hate to cramp your style.

Kash glances at his phone screen, then back at me.

No worries. I’m a little hungry. What about you? he says.

My last meal was breakfast. I could eat.

Great. I’ll order dinner, Kash says and hands me a menu. You can order whatever. Remember, you’re my guest.

Gee, thanks, I say sarcastically but accept the menu, then take a load off. For now, I’m safe and tucked away in a private compartment with a stranger. Better a stranger than certain death if my uncle ever caught me. Relieved and gave thanks. I’d made it out whole. Eighteen hours from now, I’d be far away in New York. Danger averted, I concentrated on the free meal. Hmm, a burger sounds delicious now that my appetite is back. I’ll take the turkey burger, sweet potato fries, and water.

That works for me too. Kash picks up the phone, dials room service, and orders doubles.

While we wait for our meal to arrive, he kicks off his all-white Vans and sits across from me.

So, Beau, what’s your story?

Answering his question seemed like a bad idea; all things considered, he might want to ask more. So I ask him one instead.

Why don’t you like flying?

Planes make me nervous. Plus, all you can see once you’re up there are clouds. Trains allow me to view a more picturesque scene. I love nature, and the countryside between here and New York is breathtaking. Also, the smooth ride relaxes me. My life is often stressful; this way, I can zone out. What about you?

Never gave it much thought. I’ve never flown on a plane; this is my first train ride.

Yeah? What made you decide to climb on board? he grins. That Love Train reference would’ve gone over an average teen’s head. But my granny was 100% old-school and made me listen to her entire music collection.

You’re an Ojays fan, huh? I ask.

No, but my father is. Music is kinda his business.

He’s a performer?

A producer. Kash Love Productions is his company. You heard of it?

Who hasn’t? Does your dad know Tyler Perry?

My dad produces music, not movies, but yes, he knows him.

Figured you were someone famous and explains why you’re incognito and the obsession with privacy.

My father is famous but using his name, Kalvin, wouldn’t have the same impact he needed. So, my name and face are a product of his celebrity. As a result, I can’t go anywhere without being swarmed by fangirls.

Typical entitled response. Bet you have no issue spending all that money? This guy had it made. He can travel, however, wherever he wants in style. Yet complain about being related to someone famous. If I had it this good, I would count my blessings.

You would say that, considering you know nothing about me. My father is rich, but if I had my way about it, I would rather live a normal life where I don’t have to be kind to rude people. Or pose for pics when all I want is to be left alone. So, if I have to pretend it doesn’t bother me, I’m okay with spending my father’s money.

Great, I’ve pissed him off. Did I hit a sore spot or something? I say, almost remorseful but not quite.

Kash blew out a long breath and leaned forward.

You kinda did. But it’s cool, and I don’t expect you to understand. That’s just how it is in this business. It forces you to become someone you hate.

He’s right; I don’t understand. Besides, I’ve never been popular or rich. Granny was our little family breadwinner. She worked hard to keep a roof over our heads. Working past her prime killed her. Thank God a knock at the door ended that conversation.

Who is it? Kash says before he opens the door. Even on a moving train, the poor guy must be cautious about who he lets into his space.

Room service. The reply came through the closed door. Kash swung open the door with no questions, then stepped back to let our server inside. Evening, sir, ma’am, he said, then removed the covered dishes from the cart. Grilled onions wafted throughout the room before I lifted the lid and feasted my eyes on the gourmet burger with toppings and condiments on the side. It smelled like heaven, and I couldn’t wait to gobble the food down, famished. Kash opened his duffle, took out his wallet, and tipped the server with a Jackson.

Thank you, sir. Enjoy your meal, he said, closing the door behind him.

Kash strolled over, taking the seat across from me again. His forearms rested on the table. We should eat before it gets cold, he says.

I watched while he uncovered his food, laid out his silverware, and spread the napkin over his lap. Manners are a sign you were raised right, Granny always said. Not only that, but Kash was polite and so darn cute. Caught up in my overview of him, he directed my attention back by clearing his throat.

Aren’t you hungry?

Yeah, sure, I was just waiting to say grace, I lied. I only did that when Granny made me. But he’d caught me gawking at him again, and I’d had to think fast.

You don’t strike me as the religious sort. But ok, Kash smiled.

Do you always pass judgment on people you don’t know? I’d done that to him, but I still felt some kinda way about his remark.

Usually, no, but I’m a pretty excellent judge of character. If I offended you, I apologize.

Whatever, dude, eat your food, and don’t hassle me.

Yes, ma’am, whatever you say, he laughs.

Right away, I could tell this would be the longest trip of my life if I had to put up with Kash’s cynical attitude the entire way there. We’re both better off if we keep conversation at a minimum. So, I bit into my burger and ignored him. That worked for like five minutes. Kash wiped his mouth with the napkin and eyed me suspiciously.

So, Beau, do you have family in Atlanta?

Do you have family in Atlanta? I mimic with no plans to answer his question.

Kash shakes his head and tries again.

Listen, I’m not trying to get in your business. I’m just concerned your parents are worried about you. Are you in trouble or running away from someone?

Why would he ask me that? Is Kash who he said he was, or was he hired by my uncle to bring me back? Why does that matter? So what am I, a poster child for runaways?

Kash stared at me with a thoughtful expression before he spoke. It matters because if you are in trouble, maybe I can help.

As I recall, you needed me, not the other way around. So do me a favor and mind your business. I should’ve trusted my first instinct and ran when he approached me. As soon as we’re in New York, I’ll ghost him.

Listen, Beau, that’s not what I’m trying to do here. You look young to me, and because I asked you for a favor, I just wanna do what’s right.

Oh, but my age wasn’t an issue when you needed to ditch that cougar. Now suddenly, you’re concerned about what’s right or wrong? Rich Boy, please. I roll my eyes at his hypocrisy. The real problem is you’re afraid you’ll catch a case for possibly abetting a minor over several state lines. But don’t worry, Kash. I don’t need your help. When we get to New York, you can do you and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I had several thousand dollars that would tide me over if I lay low until my seventeenth birthday in a few weeks. Or until the money ran out, and then I could get a job.

How old are you, Beau?

The humor left Kash’s face, his expression stone-cold serious.

How old are you? I persisted, despite the stern look he gave me at my defiance.

Nineteen, your turn, and don’t lie to me, Beau. I’m serious.

Eighteen.

Kash’s face says he doesn’t trust me, but he looks less likely to flip out on me.

All right, he says, but I can’t say this will end his questions.

We good now? Now that you’re sure I’m not some delinquent.

Well, I’d hate it if you lied to me, but I’ll take your word for it, he says as I try to look convincing.

Dude, it’s not like you forced me. I was gonna catch the train, regardless.

But what about your folks? Won’t they worry that you’re gone?

I was under no obligation to answer more questions. If I said anything else, it might land me back in Atlanta right into my uncle’s hands.

Thanks for the meal. Which bed can I crash for the night on?

Are you seriously not going to answer me, Beau?

Jeez, this guy just won’t give up.

Well, if you’re not gonna claim that bed over there, I said, pointing behind me. I will. It’s been a long-ass day, and I’m bushed. Goodnight, Kash, happy thoughts. I grab my backpack and head through the partition separating the two rooms. Once there, I close the panels’ flop onto the mattress, head in my hands. What a shit show this turned out to be! Just my rotten luck, I ended up with a guy with a conscience. Under other circumstances, that would be a good thing. My situation, however, is the worst-case scenario.

All I want is to get a good night’s sleep now that I’m safe from my uncle’s murderous, sick hands. A miracle I got away without losing my life. They don’t call my uncle Killmonger for nothing. He lives up to that rep and is proud of it; not even the police mess with him when he has them in his pocket. At least now, neither could track me without my cell phone. But he’s crafty and will use other means to find me. Uncle D, short for Desmond, is someone you never take for granted. He’s the worst human-created—sociopath who lacks empathy. Not even for Shauna, his sister, and my mother, but I can’t blame him for that.

Shauna’s responsible for many things, including the disaster that is my life right now. Abandoned at age two, she took me to Granny and never returned. Thank God for my paternal grandmother, Geneva. Otherwise, I could’ve ended up in the system if it wasn’t for her. Marco, my dad, got deployed to Afghanistan. He came back but in a casket. I don’t remember him much, but Granny said he’s a hero. Just twenty-two years old when they got pregnant with me. Shauna couldn’t handle his death or raising a child alone. So, she dropped me off one day, and I never saw her again. Or I have and just can’t remember her face. But from what Granny said, I look a lot like Shauna. I have pics to verify that, but they’re younger versions—a little older than I am right now. I always wondered if she was dead or alive. Granny said Shauna got in a bad way, so I was better off not knowing and should forgive her for what she did. If Shauna shared why she abandoned me, I might. Either way, she wasn’t coming back for me. Guess I should count my blessings.

Not a hardship for Granny since she benefited from my dad’s life insurance and bought our house in O4W, short for Old Fourth Ward, before the housing market skyrocketed. She always worked but retired early to raise me. Granny owned the home outright but fell behind on her taxes after the money dwindled from an expensive tax bill and my private school education. She became a Walmart greeter to compensate the cost when Social Security benefits didn’t cover our bills or my tuition. Even that wasn’t enough; therefore, public school became an option.

Anyway, we had a good life until she got sick and died. That’s how evil Uncle D came into my life. It was that or a group home until I became legal and fended for myself. Granny warned me to stay far away from him. I’d often seen him when we visited Lakewood Heights on Atlanta's southeastern side, her old neighborhood. It sounds fancy, but far from it and known for its high crime rate. Uncle D owned a house over there. The kind where people go in and come out smashed or never leave. The day I said goodbye to Granny for the last time was the same day Uncle D introduced himself. "You know who I am? he’d said; I nodded yes. We’re family, which means we look out for each other." Strange, he would say that because no one but Granny cared about my welfare my whole life. But what was I to do? The city foreclosed on our home for back taxes. That still sits empty, by the way. After that, I was left homeless. With that to contend with, too, I figured I’d only live with him for a little while. On my first day at his house, Marley, a guy who worked for him, grabbed my butt. My reaction was a pure knee-jerker. I gave his junk the full package deal with a roundhouse kick.

That’s what you get, dumbass, and don’t touch my niece again, hear me? Uncle D had said.

I kept my guard up from that day onward. Unsure how I felt about the whole initiation extra responsibility thing. Regardless of what I wanted, including being the drop-off person to his customers, I had no choice. In my uncle’s house, everyone had a job to do. So, I complied until a beef between Uncle D’s rival popped off. I’ve never run from a fight my entire life, ever. Stubborn like that, but damn, standing my ground this time. I’m not stupid. This was a fight I couldn’t win. Uncle D is diabolical, a criminal who will kill me like an enemy. He’d said so, and I believed him. So, for now, I’m secure, thanks to Kash, but I’d never tell him that. Or that he saved my life and perhaps put his own in danger. But I owe him. The only way to repay such an enormous debt is not to get him entangled in my mess.

CHAPTER THREE

KASH

I’m suddenly left alone, unsure what to make of Beau’s hasty exit from my presence. Her attitude is evasive and standoffish. I don’t blame her for wanting privacy; I agree. I understand and hate I have so little of it. Everything I do gets plastered on social media in random and well-placed tweets. Like they know me, but I get it, though. My parents are celebrities, placing me responsible for acting a certain way in the public eye. When asked, I smile for the camera and pen autographs, and no one cares about invading my privacy. They criticize me if I don’t oblige them, followed by countless targeted hashtags. #stuckup #nolove #counterfitkash.

Not that I care, but a poor reflection of the brand. The funny thing is if they wanted to know me, all they needed to do was ask. Despite my family’s notoriety, my life is far from perfect. I’m a college student with plans that don’t include continuing my father’s legacy. It’s one reason I took a slight break this weekend to clear my mind from the pressure—the expectation as a son and not my own person. I checked out on Dex, my best friend and Aries, my girl. Everyone wants something from me I can’t give them right now. Not when I need to focus on myself and what I want. That might seem selfish, but I deserve time to contemplate my life. But back to Beau. Who is this girl? From the moment she’d stepped onto the platform, my eyes followed her like a heat-seeking missile. Everything about her is fine.

Well, the parts not covered up with baggy sweats and a hoodie. I’m far from shallow, but I’m also a guy who appreciates beauty. When I saw how lovely she was, I couldn’t turn away. There’s nothing average about it; she’s just a rare beauty who needs no makeup enhancements. I swear she could be Chili from TLC’s twin sister if she were older. Soft brown almond-shaped eyes scanned her surroundings as if she was scoping out the station. I get it, though. It’s what I do whenever I’m in public. There were at least a half-dozen females, minus the cougar; I could’ve approached on that platform for help. But I chose Beau. Quick-witted and outspoken, as all get out but sparked an immediate attraction for her despite that. Not sure how to process that emotion. It doesn’t matter, anyway. My focus is on her welfare because she seemed lost and, for all her bluster, afraid.

My instincts say she’s a runaway. I'm not sure what happened that forced her to make a break for it, but if it were me, my parents would wonder where I am. Beau is tight-lipped and stubborn. Per my insistence, I determined that much on my own got her age. The last thing she’ll do is share