Glimpses 2

By Patricia A. Davis

Glimpses 2 is the exciting addition to Glimpses. It unravels the mystery of who is attempting to murder Marcella and life's discoveries at the end of the tunnel of passion. The ladies discover what their hearts have been longing to reveal. They continue on the road of fate, unified and strong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646285662

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Glimpses 2

Patricia A. Davis

Copyright © 2020 Patricia A. Davis

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-64628-565-5 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64628-566-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

B rilliant! Geneva was saying to her friends.

Marcella and Tasha were sitting in front of Geneva’s fireplace when Marcella remembered it. She’d stored an archive of photos, addresses, and letters of endearment at the storage area on Geneva’s island.

She’d forgotten what had been in the crates that she’d packed last year. It felt safer having that stuff elsewhere. It slipped my mind.

Tasha looked on it as hope to finally untangle the mystery of the onslaught of hate crimes against Marcella.

Geneva and her friends had been low-key for the last few months, fear and safety to the forefront of their minds.

* * *

Tyler had returned to Jamaica, once more defeated. His cousin, Jamar, had stood his ground. With no help from Tyler, he was released from the authorities due to lack of evidence.

So far he remained out of contact with Tyler, working as a food vendor on the beach.

Tyler sent him an envelope full of money through his children. Tyler gave them money, along with a package, to order food and cover his intentions. Jamar’s eyes lit up as he stored the money in the sliding doors on the side of the food cart.

He had fear in his mind for what he’d done in the States to Marcella.

He vowed to never tell his girlfriend any details. Just went to the States to help with the family business.

Now he was literally exiled from Tyler. But, by instinct, he knew he had to be. Besides now he could have more fun with his woman. He’d bring home a bouquet of flowers, fresh, with a bottle of rum. Celia, loving to shop, would have to go and pick out her own new outfit.

Jamar was very practical with his money. He looked on it as a plant, growing weekly. He just wanted it to get bigger. He had money hidden away in the palm tree in the middle of his backyard.

There was a straw and bamboo tree house formed around the branches of the second of three palm trees, turning inward of the middle one, strong and sturdy.

Celia and Jamar often spent nights there—singing, laughing, making love.

Their group of friends would make their way there to talk, eat, and sing. Drugs and liquor were rampant to all who would indulge. But when the doors were locked and the ladder to the tree house was up, unable to reach, their friends knew that they did not want to be bothered. All respected that.

The warm, tropical breezes blew, and the light of the moon set an atmosphere of long-time memories. Fragrances of flowers abounded.

No one, but Jamar and God, knew that among the tree house roof were hidden rolls and rolls of cash, within bamboo hollows.

Even though he really loved her, Celia didn’t know of the treasure. He was so tempted to tell her, but his senses came to the fore. Sex was one thing. Money was the one thing he had to separate from it.

Jamar had learned earlier in life to trust only himself. He learned to protect his interests in defiance of his father, who drank rum and smoked blunts all day, having sexual encounters with whomever came his way and was willing to peel off a layer of their souls to have a short, good time with him.

Jamar wore pants from months gone by. He was embarrassed at school and couldn’t concentrate, not knowing what to expect when he got home.

The logical thing for him to do was to leave the existence.

So at age fourteen, he set out on his own. Wrong turns, decisions to do what he wanted, instead of school, played out.

Jamar learned firsthand how harsh the world could be. It had been like an open oyster shell—seemingly welcome and freeing once opened to him. Instead Jamar was hungry for days, choosing rum over food for the pain in his world.

His clothing faded and then got shorter.

I won’t go through this again! I’m becoming my old man! he would say as he came to the realizations in his life.

Jamar stood up, wiped off the dust of the typical persuasion around him—a circle of tragic loss of thought and life—and moved on. He knew that he would be stuck in a rut if he didn’t quickly learn the road to survival and accomplishment in an honest way.

He went back to school. He graduated favorably, hoping that because he’d changed, his father would join him. But to no avail. Now prison was his father’s home. Permanently because of a drunken shot of his gun.

I may not have much, but it’s mine, and I’m free! Jamar thought.

Cousin Tyler wanted more. Much more. Jamar was thankful that his family had helped him after two years on the streets.

But Jamar was cut from a different cloth. Though he respected his cousin, he was determined not to follow him to his fate: hell…

Jamar did Tyler a favor by hurting Marcella, but in his heart, he knew he couldn’t kill her. Tyler was angry and viewed Jamar as a weak-ass man. Jamar refused to be a puppet, nor care about what Tyler said, so he was paid off for his efforts. He vowed to keep the secret but moved on.

Celia was one of the most sought-after young women on the island. Her curves drew Jamar in. She was decent, honest, and knew her worth.

Jamar spotted her on the beach one day as he spoke to Tyler. She had been equally interested. She’d been twenty-one when they’d met—he’d been twenty-three.

They complimented each other perfectly.

After a year of romance, Celia moved to Jamar’s small house.

He worked for an auto mechanic and had his own food cart for extra income on the weekends. His profit was impressive as well as his determination to rise up in his life and mind.

Aviation mechanic school was the next step in his plan.

Celia was a model who worked constantly. She also sang and danced for the tourism board. Numerous engagements afforded her big pockets, not a big head.

Together, they held their own.

Lovemaking was almost indescribable. The showers, both inside and out of the residence, were their favorite spots to get the foreplay started. It spilled throughout the house: on floors, kitchen counters, ladders against walls.

Jamar and Celia looked into each other’s souls, and they loved what they saw.

* * *

Geneva had a plan. Since the women knew about Tyler’s business, they decided to visit Jamaica once more. Only this time, Geneva and Tasha wouldn’t accompany Marcella when she went back to the restaurant. She would appear to be alone, but Geneva’s detectives wouldn’t be too far behind. Somehow they would incriminate Tyler.

I can’t wait to see the outcome. All points to Jamaica. He wants me dead, but I still don’t know why, Marcella was lost in thought.

Nothing on the tapes or pictures? Tasha asked.

Not that I think is unusual, Marcella replied.

But Tyler was thinking about the situation too. Presently pissed, his ass tightened, and the veins popped out in his neck. He looked at the horizon in a determined stare.

Reba was getting a chance to breathe fresh air on the balcony adjoining her room. Her face was lifeless, but she inwardly was enjoying the outing out of her bed. She was still in a panic, still, in her head. She felt like paper in the wind—skipping the ground, rolling, getting caught up—swirling uncontrollably.

How can I put this puzzle together? she thought. For right now she couldn’t even fathom going on a date, let alone trusting a man. Her husband had been her whole world.

Tyler grew tired of loneliness. His mother helped with the children, but he just couldn’t get a grip on normal life. He’d gotten a peek at it when he took his children to the park or for a walk along the beach. People leading normal lives.

He was tiptoeing in his own home, not feeling comfortable. He blamed Reba, Momma, and his kids. Never would it be his fault.

He’d helped his wife out of this world by not delaying her death. He’d chosen to pull the plug. Besides he couldn’t fuck her anymore—she was a lifeless veggie in his twisted mind. He cared only about the two-million-dollar insurance policy.

He kept his cover as a head waiter to meet people of all walks of life who enhanced their vacation experience, using the people from his evil spoils to do it. He frequently, of late, disappeared into the night to connect to selfish motives of monetary gain.

He was meeting with women from online services, that is, those he could use and be worthy of his attention.

If his children found out about what he’d done, they would hate him and turn their backs. Instead they loved and respected him, coming to him for every problem, and love, in their young lives.

* * *

Geneva would fly down with her friends, then Marcella would go to a hotel close by. The detectives were already in Jamaica. Tasha and Geneva would join the men on their cabin cruiser.

The ladies prepared for the trip, with a hint of caution and excitement. After renewing and acquiring passports, they were on their way.

Marcella’s doctor had revealed from