Take It As It Comes: For Always and Forever

By Ann Jeffries

Pragmatic Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department Officer Anita Kidd, a child born to her underaged mother who had repeatedly been raped, has faced more challenges at age twenty-one than most people face in a lifetime. First, her mother was murdered, and her body burned when Anita was eleven. Then her maternal grandmother died when Anita wa

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Jeffries
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781941603505

Book preview

TAKING

IT AS IT COMES

For Always and Forever

ANN JEFFRIES

Copyright © 2023 by Ann Jeffries

www.annjeffries.net

All rights reserved

Printed and Bound in the United States of America

Published and Distributed By

New View Literature

820 67th Avenue N, #7603

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina 29572

[e-mail]

www.newviewliterature.com

Jessica Tilles, Editor,

TWA Solutions, Cover and Interior Design

ISBN:978-1-941603-49-9 Print

ISBN: 978-1-941603-50-5 eBook

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022917596

First printing June 2023

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

References to characters in the novel, Looking Through a Different Lens by Mark Lewis, author, are printed with permission from the copyright holder.

For inquiries, contact the publisher.

Acknowledgments

I bow in humble gratitude to:

The Creator

My Ancestors

Jessica Tilles, TWA Solutions

The Carolina Forest Authors’ Club

Kelley Hazen, Storyteller Productions

Bruce Carver, Musician and Engineer

Jenetha McCutcheon Hollis, Reviewer

The Carolina Forest Library, Horry County, SC

Faithful Family, Friends, and Fans

The struggle for literary perfection continues and will never cease.

I remain faithfully yours,

Ann Jeffries

Ann Jeffries Titles

Family Reunion—Wisdom of the Ancestors Series

In Print and E-book formats

Southern Exposures

Another Point of View

Northern Exposures

Uncommon Choices

An Unguarded Moment

Moments to Remember

The Better Part of Valor

Walking On Uneven Ground

Ask Me No Questions . . . I’ll Tell You No Lies

Touch Me in the Morning

All Goodbyes Aren’t Gone

A Different Frame of Mind

Judicial Indiscretion

Crystal Clear Persuasion

Sweet Justice

Bittersweet Memories

All in the Family

An Ulterior Motive

A Forever Kind of Love

Walking on the Wilde Side

All That Glitters Ain’t Gold

Regrets

Country Cool, City Chic, Continental Class

Protective Instincts

In audiobook format:

Southern Exposures, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Another Point of View, Narrator Glen Pavlovich

Northern Exposures, Narrator CJ McAlister

Uncommon Choices, Narrator Kelley Hazen

An Unguarded Moment, Narrator Richard Dennis Johnson

Moments to Remember, Narrator Richard Dennis Johnson

The Better Part of Valor, Narrator Richard Dennis Johnson

Walking on Uneven Ground, Narrator Richard Dennis Johnson

Ask Me No Questions...I’ll Tell You No Lies, Narrator Pam Dougherty

Touch Me in the Morning, Narrator Ginger Walton

All Goodbyes Aren’t Gone, Narrator Julian Thomas

A Different Frame of Mind, Narrator C. J. McAllister

Judicial Indiscretion, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Crystal Clear Persuasion, Narrator C. J. McAllister

Sweet Justice, Narrator C. J. McAllister

Bittersweet Memories, Narrator Richard Dennis Johnson

All in the Family, Narrator Kelley Hazen

An Ulterior Motive, Narrator Kelley Hazen

A Forever Kind of Love, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Walking on the Wilde Side, Narrator Kelley Hazen

All That Glitters Ain’t Gold, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Regrets, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Country Cool, City Chic, Continental Class, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Protective Instincts, Narrator Kelley Hazen

Don’t let evil conquer you Conquer evil by doing good.

—Romans 12:21

Prologue

HE STOOD FROM THE BED, tucked in his now crumpled uniform shirt, and zipped up his pants as his possession; his beautiful young woman rolled to her side away from him, her silent tears soaking the pillow that still smelled of him. Then, slipping his feet into his shoes, he sat down; the bed shifting under his tall, muscular, two-hundred-pound weight. He lifted his right foot across his left knee, double-knotting the black laces with precision before lifting his left foot to repeat the process. He was a creature of habit and meticulous about following the same methods. Everything he did, he did perfectly. No mistakes. When something worked, why change it?

Finished dressing, he looked over his right shoulder to the middle of the king-sized bed. His submissive knew better than to move before he left the house, as that was her signal that he had finished his deed with her for the day.

She stayed put, praying he would leave soon. He rarely stayed long when he had sated his thirst for her. When he turned toward her, she silently prayed harder. She needed him to go. Today was a special day; she needed to get his smell off her and dress for this special day. However, the longer he sat looking at her, she feared her prayers would be to no avail.

He had failed to make her orgasm. That would never do. Failure at anything was not an option. Checking his watch, he noted he still had time. Determined to get a better result, he tucked his necktie into his shirt before leaning in to use his mouth on her.

Even though she knew she needed to pretend to be more responsive, today was hard. She could usually visualize being with the sweet, wonderful man she loved, providing the ecstasy they used to share. However, today was his birthday and their wedding day. Yet, because of his incarceration, he wouldn’t be free until their infant son was in college at their alma mater.

After several hours with this dominant man’s personality, she felt disgusted. Still, submitting to his demands was keeping her man alive until they could appeal his conviction. She needed to get him out of the hell he was living in. Of course, this was all her fault. Because of this man’s fixation on her, the love of her life set up and was not sitting behind bars.

When he looked at her to gauge her reaction, she looked away lest he noticed she was unaffected by his attempts to make her cum. Unfortunately, she didn’t look away fast enough, or her acting ability was lackluster today. He had been there for a solid two hours, only resting between his assaults. Regrettably for her, he thoroughly enjoyed her, and he had incredible stamina and recuperative powers. She didn’t protest the mistreatment, but kept her face turned away from him.

He stood, put his knee on the bed, wrapped her thick hair around his left fist, and, holding her beautiful face in a vice-like grip with his right hand, ravished her mouth, biting her fleshy bottom lip until it bled. She remained stoic, numb to his treatment, refusing yet another little pleasure for him to savor. He licked the blood, loving her taste even after hours of dominance. He commanded her to look into his eyes and not look away again while waiting to feel her body respond. Still, she lay inert, not moving to encourage or stop his rough treatment and showing no signs of the pleasure he demanded and craved.

He frowned, disliking her attempts to thwart his demand for her to submit to him. Her continued failure to acknowledge his rightful dominance over her vexed him. So, to teach her a lesson, he got off the bed and disrobed again. This time, when he repositioned her in the center of the bed, he pulled her legs over his shoulders. He watched himself in the dresser mirror, fascinated. Grabbing her beautiful, milk-laden breast, he squeezed hard until her milk squirted on his broad chest, running down his perfect abs and hard six-pack.

His thunderous heartbeats and near asphyxiation warned that he was losing control. Holding her tight in his left arm to straddle his lap, he planted repeated whacks on her ass with his right hand. Delighted when she flinched and her full breasts spurted more milky liquid against his chest, he watched it roll down his body between his thighs. Then, taking her mouth, he continued whacking her fleshy bottom harder until she moved to the cadence he demanded.

Twelve years ago, he impregnated her, but this time his championship sperms weren’t doing the job with his prize so far. He aimed to impregnate her again, so he took her for hours, especially when he knew her menstruation cycle was imminent. He needed another means to control her and make her bend to his will. Having more children with him would also kill any chance she could ever reconcile with the man she claimed to love. Still, suspecting she was using something to prevent him from impregnating her, he searched the house but found nothing. With her, he never used prophylactics.

Laying her on the bed, still dissatisfied with her continued lack of responsiveness to his needs, and constant tears. Clutching her thick, lustrous, dark golden hair with his left hand and his right hand at her throat, with forceful thrusts, he pumped until he was hard as steel. Lost in his euphoria, he ignored her when she gagged, choked, and struggled. Rather, he grunted his pleasure as his nature rose and roared when the sensations spread throughout his bodily systems. He felt like he would pass out from heavy breathing and near asphyxiation. She presented a challenge, but with her, sex was always so good. Knowing she was his possession—and that he would always own her—and having her pleasure him whenever he wanted made his euphoria higher.

Now empty and coming down from his high, he noticed she was no longer moving, only a blank stare. Fear now building, he smacked her face several times but got no reaction. Placing two fingers at her carotid artery, he felt no pulse, but saw the bruises on her neck. Now desperate, he dragged her to the floor and performed chest compressions, pinching her nose closed, and breathing into her open mouth to re-inflate her lungs. All the while, his heart broke as she left him again. Through his anguished tears, he begged and pleaded with her to come back to him. His attempts to revive her lasted for over an hour.

Angry with himself and resigned to his loss, he wailed. Then he turned her into his arms, lifted her onto his lap, placed his forehead to hers, and wept. He rocked her lifeless body until it lost its warmth. He hated leaving her, but he knew what must be done.

Gathering one of her pretty pink and green towels from the en suite bath to erase his fingerprints, naked and barefooted, he went into the kitchen, rooting around in the drawers until he found a turkey baster. He found a bottle of Pinch, his preferred drink, in the dining room bar cabinet and sucked the liquor into the tube. After lifting her onto the bed on her back, he inserted the baster into her mouth and throat, spurting the alcohol, filling her orifices until they overflowed. That, he thought, should destroy any evidence that could link him to her. When the time came, he would pour the rest of the scotch over her naked body, ensuring to drench the sheets. He couldn’t recall whether she was right or left-handed, but he pressed the empty bottle onto her flat abdomen between both hands to ensure evidence of her fingerprints.

Cutting a lock of her beautiful hair, he placed it in a small evidence bag. Leaning over to kiss and lick her mouth one last time, he moved to her breasts, loving the taste, satiating himself with her scent. Moving to the juncture between her thighs, where he loved to graze, he recalled how much he enjoyed her essence. Standing, he closed her eyes and, still reluctant to leave, settled in her pink bedroom chair with his feet on the bed at her hip and crossed at his ankles. He looked his fill while she came alive in his memory.

She was such a beauty that he fell head-over-heels in love and had wanted her at first sight. She was a preteen when he asked his neighbor to allow her daughter to walk to and from school and to babysit after school for his girlfriend’s young sons. Since the neighbor was a widow and owned a restaurant that didn’t close until ten at night, she agreed. So, every day, when he came in from his shift as a police officer, the young girl was at the house, happy to see him. He watched her as she played with the boys, and he made dinner. Then he helped the boys and her with homework assignments until it was time for baths and bedtime stories.

His submissive, he found on the web, a single parent of the boys, was an airline stewardess and was often away. He stayed in the relationship with his submissive because it gave him access to the beautiful girl. He allowed her to watch him bathe with the boys every night in the big whirlpool tub until it became routine for her. So when he undressed after he came in from work, she would come to his room, gather his clothes and the boys’ things, and take them to the laundry room.

As time passed, she grew more beautiful in every way and was very talented as a pianist and took part in competitions. He took the boys and sometimes his girlfriend to every one of her appearances. They celebrated her victories at her mother’s restaurant in the area where his pride swelled because she was skillful with other instruments, too. He purchased a piano so she could practice her music while she would babysit the boys or even when the boys were not at home.

He knew the moment she became a woman at the start of her menstruation cycle, and she became curious. So, he left the bedroom door open for her to watch him with his submissive. When they were alone or the boys were asleep, he allowed her to question and touch him, training her on his expectations. She came unglued the first time he put his mouth on her and was in a daze for hours while he loved her. It took time and patience, but at last, he could impregnate her with his seed. He planned his disappearance so he could return and take her to live with him. However, when her mother learned about the pregnancy, she took his prize away, and he couldn’t find her.

Now, ten years later, he had found and lost her again. However, she was only out of the hospital a few days after delivering a healthy baby boy when she was a witness to a grocery store robbery. The younger officers interviewed her and got all the information needed to find her.

After studying his submissive’s routine, in a matter of days, he found out everything he needed to know about her. She was a graduate of UCLA and the mother of one daughter, whom she gave birth to at age fifteen—his child, whom she named Anita Veronica Kidd. His submissive’s mother still lived in Los Angeles, but she had no other siblings. He gathered all the data about his submissive, although it took some doing. Still, he had someone in the drug trade manufacture evidence to have her live-in lover, the owner of a new delivery service, incarcerated for possessing ten kilos of fentanyl and sentenced to ten to twenty years without the possibility of early parole. Of course, it wasn’t his case, but the younger officers were gleeful with the guilty verdict on their record.

He went to her house when she was most distraught that her baby boy’s dad was out of the picture. To ensure the man she loved wouldn’t meet his demise while in prison and the rest of her family would not meet with untimely deaths, he offered her an opportunity to agree to his dominant needs whenever he wanted. Even though she cried and pleaded each time to free her, it thrilled him to see a strong woman break and bend to his dominance.

He bought things that pleased his taste and placed them around her home. He required her to be naked when he came to her and undress him, kissing his body when she removed each piece of his clothing. In the end, she learned to sink to her knees in the submissive position whenever he placed her hands on parts of his body needing her special touch.

Since she lived in an isolated mountainous desert area and worked from home, no one was around to see them outside in her pretty water-feature butterfly garden with healthy tropical plants, fragrant flowers, fruit trees, and vegetables. So he would take her there to be ravished in her garden’s prominent water feature in the hot sunlight or the rare desert rain. As he lay on his back halfway submerged in the water, with his hands laced behind his head, he would instruct her to tend to his needs until he was brick hard and his balls were the size of walnuts. Then he instructed her to ride him hard until he exploded inside her.

Over time, he trained her well, and his need for her grew. His visits became almost a daily necessity in the morning. Sometimes he’d risk hours in the middle of the night when the children were sound asleep, and he was supposed to be on a meal break during his night patrols. With bated breath, he craved her on weekends when his obligation was to spend time with his live-in lover and her three children. His woman, also a submissive he found on the Internet, never complained when he tied her up and took out his edgy needs on her, unknowing he was visualizing another woman when he made his woman scream in pleasure and pass out.

However, every Monday morning, he couldn’t wait for his primary submissive’s sitter to take the daughter to school and the baby boy to daycare. He sat in a roadside diner, having breakfast with his friends and fellow officers at the end of the night shift. From the diner’s large windows, he could see the back road that led to his submissive’s house. When he saw the sitter’s car drive by, he and his pals parted ways. The other officers headed home to sleep while he headed up into the mountains to his submissive’s house. He was so spent after hours in her bed that he had to muster the strength for the fifteen-mile drive back to his attractive abode in a pleasant area surrounded by military families, and he still volunteered his time coaching little league.

He dressed and made a ritual of pouring the last liquor over her, drenching the sheets. There were aromatic candles in pretty squat jars on the nightstands he bought and enjoyed. He lit them and tilted one toward the bed. When the flames exploded like a Molotov cocktail, he stepped back. Standing fascinated, he watched his reluctant lover, his first submissive burn, her beautiful hair and face melting as he stroked himself to life again.

As he was about to leave through the rear door, he thought he heard someone coughing, but he didn’t have time to check. As expected, he had seen the childcare worker leave the mountain road that morning. So, he hadn’t checked to determine whether the children were home. They should have been in school and at the nursery. He now knew where to find his daughter. He had another situation to leave before he would come to bring his child home with him. She didn’t know him because she was sound asleep or wasn’t around to see him when he came for her mother. He would fix that soon.

The smoke was too thick to return and determine whether someone else was in the house. Time was running out. So, he got into his cruiser and drove away from the burning three-bedroom, two-bath stone bungalow now engulfed in smoke and flames.

He was off the back road to her home before he heard the wail of emergency vehicles. Through his uncharacteristic tears, he couldn’t see the flashing lights approaching him on the county road. Swiping at his drenched face with his shoulder, he turned on the radio in his patrol car. Tuning to the fire department’s frequency, he listened to their Dispatch call for more emergency fire station vehicles. Yet, there was no call for an ambulance. So he continued to listen to the chatter as Dispatch requested more help to control the firestorm spreading up the canyon.

He was off duty and still in a maelstrom over his last time with his submissive. So, rather than go to an empty home and empty bed, he drove to his favorite fight club and gym. After pulling his gear from the trunk of his car, he went inside out of the scorching California desert dry heat of the day. Hailed by other first responders, he headed for the locker room to change his clothes. He brought a second uniform, complete with a shirt and tie still encased in the cleaner’s plastic bag. After hanging the bag in his locker, he disrobed and put his uniform in his gym bag. Then he put on his workout gear and headed to take a few rounds in the ring and then the punching bag. Between the free weights and the cardio machines, he firmed his jaw and determined he had found his submissive once; he would find her again.

Two hours later, showered and attired, he dropped his smoky-smelling uniform at cleaners he used on rare occasions and headed home to sleep until his submissive came home at five in the afternoon. He woke to the smell of a casserole in the oven and the sight of his submissive in their walk-around closet, removing her dressy business suit. He stared at her and, with minimal effort, instructed her to perform as he dictated. She didn’t protest when he was a little rougher, as he rammed himself into her and jackhammered them both into oblivion. Now exhausted, he allowed his submissive to sleep, and before he surrendered to slumber, the last word on the man’s lips was Aurora.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains. You raise me up to walk on stormy seas. I am strong when I am on your shoulders. You raise me up to more than I can be.

By Secret Garden

Chapter 1

Ten years later, the Embassy Row area of Georgetown, Washington, DC, USA…

ANNA JONES, A SLIGHT WOMAN, born in Peru, now an American citizen, leaned against the stacked accordion doors of the stately Georgetown home she shared with her husband, Fenster. She stared worriedly at her son, Miguel, who wasn’t doing anything to cause her concern. He was merely sending and answering text messages, but she knew her children. Anna sensed something was bothering him. So, based solely on her instincts, she had the impulse to act on her intuition and was determined to figure it out.

Not that Miguel needed mothering. After all, he was twenty-four, a high-fashion model who resembled the entertainer, Bruno Mars. However, to her eyes, Miguel was more handsome than Mars, taller, standing over six feet five, and an award-winning film and television actor. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton Master’s Program with degrees in both business and economics. Miguel worked hard to complete his college curriculum while still fitting in as many modeling assignments for some of the top fashion designers globally between his classes. He also took on some of the most challenging big and small screen roles in the American movie industry and abroad.

Still, Miguel never stopped being curious and studied endlessly anything he put his incredible talents toward. Anna was so proud of her son’s accomplishments. She had several scrapbooks full of pictures from Miguel’s earliest photo shoots, starting at age seven. His awards graced a full wall in her library. Miguel was adorable and charismatic, with loads of talent and charm. Anna credited her long-deceased first husband, Miguel Menendez-Gaza, Senior, for giving her two wonderful children. Angelique was her firstborn, and two years later, Miguel Junior. From time to time, Anna wondered what her first husband would have thought of their golden nuggets now that they were adults.

Unfortunately, her husband’s death in a fire at the hands of an evil man robbed her and their children of the love, trust, and respect they should have shared. However, if her husband had lived, she, Angelique, and Miguel would likely still be in that tiny drug-infested town in Peru where she and her husband were born. Unfortunately, life there didn’t bode well for their small family.

Instead, thanks to six law school students and one medical doctor, they were in America, where Angelique and Miguel thrived. The law school students saw that Angelique and Miguel attended a private school and had their choice of colleges or universities. Angelique completed two years at Wellesley College before switching to Le Cordon Bleu Institute in Paris, France. She graduated with honors and, with her extraordinary financial assets, opened the restaurant Angelique’s Place and The Runway, a nightclub.

Miguel’s choice of UPenn was equally beneficial. Her children’s successful lives gave them no barriers or limitations to a bright future. After graduation, Angelique and Miguel were living the American dream, yet this new problem-free life never changed the souls of her children. Beneath their polished exteriors, Anna knew her daughter and son were kind and caring adults.

Angelique was a beauty from birth. By the age of eleven, Angel, her stage name, graced every top teen fashion magazine at least once. In addition, she had received critical acclaim from the eight movies so far in her repertoire. Even now, while pregnant, her face and figure appeared in film and other top-selling fashion magazines. In addition, any candid shot of Angel with her husband, Gregory Alexander, an iconic basketball player known as Alexander the Great, won awards and high sale prices at gallery showings.

Thanks to one of the former law school students, Bill Chandler, now a high-fashion model and attorney for movie industry stars and sports athletes, Miguel’s career, starting at age seven, had a meteoric rise in the fashion industry. At the tender age of eleven, Miguel had already bagged roles in television commercials and feature-length films, aside from his modeling gigs. Still, he was her baby boy, no matter his age.

In the last few years, Miguel regularly starred in a daytime soap opera, This Is The Life, and his nighttime police drama, a revival of New York Undercover, which recently wrapped up its twenty episodes for the coming fall season. This was the third year of the show’s successful run, and Miguel signed a contract for an additional three years. He reprised the role of Detective Eddie Torres, originally played by Michael DeLorenzo. Her Miguel was taller than DeLorenzo and, to her mind, more handsome but just as gifted an actor. Like the famous actor Shemar Moore, Miguel had starring roles in two television shows simultaneously.

Now he was toying with the idea of doing more in the music industry. Heaven knows Miguel has the talent for it, Anna thought, beaming with motherly pride. He had an incredible singing voice, and Fenster had taught him how to play the violin. Still, Miguel gravitated to the electric guitar and taught himself how to play it. While in college and grad school, Miguel occasionally played music with a local Georgetown University band, Changelings, around the Washington, DC, area. Now Changelings had signed on with Trey Kennard, the genius producer whose Midas touch made groups huge in the entertainment industry.

Miguel’s contract with Changelings differed from the other members of the group. His agent, Bill Chandler, negotiated a deal that Miguel would join Changelings as a guest performer at Miguel’s discretion and only when time permitted. Trey Kennard and Changelings agreed to the terms and conditions. Since Changelings would be the opening act at Angelique’s new Los Angeles nightclub, The Runway on Rodeo Drive, Miguel agreed to a certain number of performances. In addition, he would have the time now to do more, since he didn’t have another movie scheduled to start rehearsals for about a month.

Miguel was also a part of an ensemble cast for a daytime soap opera about the fictional American/Cuban Steel family’s history of dedication to duty to uphold the common good. He played the role of a US Navy SEAL, Lieutenant Carter Steel, on the Echo Team. Lieutenant Steel and the Echo Team were on a secret mission to rescue several American reporters captured in Ukraine by the Russians while filming the war. Miguel’s character was away from the soap, fighting in the desert. His absence from the soap opera allowed him time to complete episodes for his New York Undercover role as Eddie Torres. He was soon heading to the California desert to film episodes as Carter Steel for the daytime soap and to shoot a new movie, Rising Eagles, for Sweet Justice Productions. Both the soap opera scenes and the movie production required him to work in the California desert terrain. One stone, two birds was his mantra. Miguel agreed to shoot both stories simultaneously.

Anna knew her boy was busy doing what he enjoyed, but he didn’t seem happy.

"Madre? Angelique frowned as she came to stand beside her mother. She wiped her wet hands on a paper towel. Is something wrong? You’ve been standing here for quite a while."

Anna shook her head and returned to the kitchen to check her pots on the professional eight-burner gas range. She also had food cooking in the double wall ovens. I don’t know, but I feel something is bothering your brother. You two are very close. Has he said anything to you?

Angelique shrugged. "Sin, Madre, Miguel seems fine, but I haven’t spent much time with Miguel since Gregory and I returned from France with his parents and aunt."

Do you think your brother is having trouble with a girl?

Angelique shook her head and smiled as she put on an apron over her pronounced baby bump. She was seven months pregnant and had just completed a photo shoot for the cover of Elle magazine while in France. Vintage copies of the magazine covers containing her picture were collectors’ items, the prices of each one rising dramatically in the memorabilia and antiquities marketplace. Pregnancy made Angelique look even more alluring. Tall and shapely, she had a face and physique that still graced a multitude of popular magazines. This last issue sold out the first printing within hours of hitting the streets.

Angelique loved being a mother and understood her mother’s concerns. "Madre, don’t worry. I know Miguel doesn’t have a problem with a girl. He occasionally dates but doesn’t invest much time and attention in anyone special. She sighed and noticed the concern still etched on her mother’s face. Madre, Miguel is coming to Los Angeles with us. So, I’ll make time to speak with him and see what, if anything, he’s willing to tell me."

Anna gave a half-hearted shrug, but brightened considerably when her husband, Fenster Jones, came into the kitchen, carrying their youngest grandson, nearly two-year-old John Joseph Alexander, whom they called Jodie.

See, Jodie. There is your Nana Anna right there.

Anna reached for her grandson, who went immediately into her arms. "What is it, Mijo?

Are you hungry?"

Peach! Jodie enthusiastically clapped his hands. Pleeze, peach, Nanna Anna!

Anna smiled. Okay, Nana Anna will give you a part of a peach, but what must you do first?

He gave her a guileless smile and rubbed his dirty hands together. Wash.

Anna nodded. "Si Mijo! Such a bright boy! Now, ask your granddada Jonesy to help wash the top and the bottom of your hands and between all ten of your fingers, too."

Grandadee, help?

Fenster nodded, and Jodie clambered to get down on the floor. When Anna put him on his feet, Jodie grabbed Fenster’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen and toward the powder room in the hallway.

No sooner than they left the kitchen, Anna’s other two grandchildren, Clayton, five, and AnnaAretha, three, came in from the backyard pulling their six-foot-ten, former basketball star father, Gregory Alexander, behind them.

Whoa! Gregory slowed his children down as if pulling back on a horse’s reins. They giggled and went to their grandmother. Then, peering up at her, they danced from foot to foot.

Clayton put his hands behind his back and wiggled. Grandmama Anna, is it time to eat yet?

She stooped to his level and beamed at him. "Yes, mijo, dinner is almost ready. Would you take your sister to the powder room, and both of you wash your hands?"

Clayton tilted his head and frowned at his grandmother. Grandmama Anna, is there a whole room full of powder?

Delighted, Anna laughed. "No, mijo. That’s the room where you can wash your hands."

He continued to frown. Then why don’t we call it a handwashing room?

Well, just for you, that’s what we’ll call it; the handwashing room. Okay?

Clayton nodded, pleased. He took his sister’s hand and guided her to the room he had named, where they found their younger brother and grandfather.

Gregory put his arm around his mother-in-law, squeezed her, and kissed her temple. That was a good one, Mama Anna. I’ll have to remember it. They are so curious about everything these days. I love it.

Although she was short, she hugged his waist. You and my Angelique, you do good for my bambinos. They are very smart in the head.

Thank you, Mama Anna. We try. He took his wife’s hand, drawing her close to his side for a kiss.

Angelique’s eyes gleamed when she smiled at the man she had loved since she was nine. By then, he was already in college and did not know he had feelings for her beyond friendship until she was twenty-one and he was thirty. Gregory had always considered her a kid and his younger sister, Aretha’s, best female friend. It took an incident involving Angelique’s safety for her to convince him they belonged together. Although he was nine years her senior, they were married with three stair-step children and another on the way.

Wow, are they at it again? Miguel teased his sister and brother-in-law for kissing in the kitchen.

Still. Gregory grinned and kissed his wife’s waiting mouth again. I will kiss my wonderful wife, your beautiful sister, as often as humanly possible for the rest of my life.

See, that kind of talk caused you two to be perpetually pregnant.

Angelique grinned at her brother. Your point would be what?

Miguel laughed and shook his head. You keep making babies for me to love, so I don’t have to make any of my own.

Gregory grinned. Brotherman, what goes around, comes around. Someday, you’ll give us nephews and nieces, too. Mark my words.

Anna nodded dramatically. "Yes, this is true, mijo. You will give me mucho bambinos, too."

Miguel raised his hands in surrender. He didn’t need to argue the point. He had yet to meet a woman who had piqued his interest, and he hadn’t planned to look for someone with whom to share his life. Maybe when he was in his thirties, but certainly not for the next eight to ten years. Plus, he felt as if he were at a crossroads in his life at twenty-four. Right now, he didn’t know what route to take. However, he knew he had to make time to figure it out.

Gregory and Miguel had been friends for nearly eighteen years. Their relationship started when Gregory’s sister, Vivian, was in law school. Vivian volunteered at a homeless family center where Anna Menendez-Gaza and her young children, Angelique and Miguel, had sought shelter during a blizzard. Vivian and a fellow law school student, Alan Lightfoot, an indigenous American, interviewed Anna at the homeless shelter to determine her needs.

Anna had come to Washington, DC, from Peru, searching for her husband. He had stopped sending postcards and money, and Anna was concerned that something had happened to him. Destitute with no family or friends in the area and unable to speak the language, the homeless shelter and the law school students were godsends for Anna and her children. However, shortly after arriving in America, Anna’s daughter, Angelique, fell deathly ill with rheumatic fever. Vivian, Alan, and another friend, Doctor Chuck Montgomery, helped get Angelique needed medical services that saved her life.

Vivian and five other advanced studies law school chums lived together in a large brownstone owned by Vivian’s brother, US Air Force jet fighter pilot Benjamin Alexander. The home was in the Georgetown Embassy Row section of Washington, DC. In exchange for cooking for the law school students and taking care of the housework, Anna moved into the brownstone’s four-bed, three-bath garden apartment with her children. The students paid for all the food and household expenses and paid Anna a salary with benefits. The law school students also helped Anna, Angelique, and Miguel become American citizens. Over time, Anna became, and still is, the majordomo of US Air Force General Benjamin Alexander’s Vrbo home.

Bachelor Fenster Jones, a famous concert violinist, was a next-door neighbor. He also taught music to gifted children. Angelique and Miguel became Fenster’s music students. Through them, he met Anna, who had discovered her husband had died in a fire by then. A couple of years later, Fenster and Anna began dating. They fell in love and married the following year. Fenster treated Angelique and Miguel as if they were his own. He loved Anna to distraction and rejoiced in the warmth of his small family.

When Fenster returned to the kitchen with his three beloved and energetic grandchildren, he sniffed the scented air and grinned. He loved his wife’s and stepdaughter’s cooking. Mmmm, the food smells great. How about we have dinner on the sun porch? It’s such a pretty afternoon.

Miguel nodded. Sounds like a great idea. We won’t have many more days like this. Fall will be on us before too long.

Gregory rubbed his hands together. I’ll set the table. Clayton, would you please get the napkins and show AnnaAretha where to put them on the table?

Clayton and AnnaAretha clapped, delighted to help, and headed for the pantry to do as their father asked. Once he had the napkins, Clayton painstakingly explained to his sister how to fold them and where to place them beside the plates Gregory distributed. Not to be left out, Jodie wanted to help fold the napkins too. So, big brother, Clayton, included Jodie in the important task.

Angelique picked up her cell phone and called Gregory’s parents, Bernard and Sylvia Benson Alexander. They and Gregory’s aunt, Mariah Benson, and his youngest sister, Aretha Grace Alexander, were staying next door at Benjamin’s home. Aretha was a student at Cambridge University in England doing post-doctoral work. While Gregory and Angelique were in France, his parents were also in France visiting Sylvia’s sister, Mariah Benson. Globally known simply as The French Mariah, and although born and raised in America’s Deep South, Mariah was an expatriate, famous singing sensation, and star on European, Asian, and African stages and screens.

Generations earlier, Mariah and Sylvia’s ancestors escaped the worst of slavery’s remnants by becoming actors and moving to France with the great Josephine Baker. Over twenty members of the Benson family troupe of singers, dancers, set designers, and wardrobe workers enjoyed unqualified success among the French until World War I chased them home to a small Gullah island in America off the coast of South Carolina. They closed up their home in France, the Château des Milandes, near Sarlat, built in 1489, which had extensive gardens, and the nightclub they owned and operated on the Left Bank. When World War I ended, they returned to France and reopened the club and the chateaux. Then, when World War II broke out, they closed their home and businesses again to return to their home in America. After the war, forty-five or more Benson family members returned to France, where their nightclub opened to rave reviews. The club was now called Mariah’s and was as famous as the Eiffel Tower, Moulin Rouge, or the Louvre Museum. As five generations of Bensons had done before her, Mariah performed at the club almost nightly to sold-out crowds.

Mariah was delighted in having her sister, Sylvia, and Sylvia’s husband, South Carolina State Senator Bernard Alexander, join her for a month’s vacation in France. Likewise, she was thrilled when the two youngest of Bernard and Sylvia’s five offspring, her nephew Gregory, his family, her niece, Aretha, and her guy friend, Russell Greene, a famous artist, also joined in for a visit.

Then Sylvia convinced Mariah to come home to America so she could see one of her two daughters, Satarah, and her husband, Douglas Johnson, and their seven children. Bernard, Sylvia, Mariah, Aretha, and Russell would spend a few more days in Washington, DC, before leaving to go home to Goodwill, Summer County, South Carolina.

While in Washington, the Alexanders were staying in their son Benjamin’s home next door to Fenster. US Air Force jet fighter pilot and astronaut General Benjamin Alexander and his wife, US Navy Admiral Stacy Greene, deployed to Japan. Still, Anna Jones was their majordomo and kept the large house open for the Alexander’s family and friends. One of those friends was attorney William Chandler, who still used the house as his primary residence when he was in the Washington, DC, area. He was somewhere in South America for a photo shoot for his gay trade magazine, Risqués de Voyager.

The set dinner table was ready on the screen-in sun porch when the Alexander family and friends arrived from next door. Fenster handled a plate for his grandson while standing next to Mariah at the buffet. So, what are you planning to do while you’re in the States, Mariah?

"I have a live interview with Having A Good Morning in the United States that’s scheduled for Friday morning here in Washington. My agent slipped this one in on me without my knowledge or approval. Hopefully, that should be it. I don’t plan to do anything else except visit my grandchildren and the rest of my siblings. I want to see as many people as possible before I return to France."

Aretha scooped up a large helping of creamy mac and cheese and passed the plate to Russell. He took the plate to the table and divided the servings between the three children. Here ya go, guys. The children immediately dug into the mixture, their second helping during dinner. Now, I’m going to get some more for me, too.

Angelique picked up a hot-buttered roll. "Aunt Mariah, I did Having A Good Morning a few years ago when I opened Angelique’s Place and The Runway here in DC. It’s only a thirty-minute segment. So it shouldn’t take up much of your time."

Aretha raised an eyebrow. Angel, aren’t you opening another restaurant and nightclub in L.A.?

Angelique, Aretha’s BFF since puberty pimpled their skin, looked at her gal pal and sister-in-law across the dinner table. "I am, yes. I’ve been working on it for more than a year. First, it took forever for me to find the right location. Then, I had to purchase two co-located buildings to create a large enough space for both the restaurant and the club. Gregory helped me close the deal, but it is more than double the cost of opening my first two places in New York City. My restaurant and nightclub here on K Street weren’t as expensive as in Los Angeles.

"Gregory is teaching me how to evaluate certain locations’ costs versus the benefits. Because the restaurant and the club are co-located in the city’s hottest area, Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, projections show that the expense will be well worth it.

Now, Gregory says I have to use what he taught me to find a location in Chicago, Illinois, for my next restaurant location. So I started the process by calling Tina Justice. You know she’s an attorney and her brother, Bouchard Justice, has a very popular restaurant on The Magnificent Mile in Chicago.

Miguel smiled at his youngest nephew as he wiped Jodie’s mouth. "It’s also called The Mag Mile. I’ve been there several times and eaten in Bouchard’s restaurant. His cuisine and ambiance are uniquely different from yours. Still, it’s in an upscale section of Chicago’s Michigan Avenue, running from the Chicago River to Oak Street

 in the Near North Side

. The district is downtown, one block east of Rush Street. It serves as the main thoroughfare between Chicago’s Loop business district and its Gold Coast. It is generally the western boundary of the Streeterville neighborhood to its east and River North to the west. So locating your restaurant and club anywhere along there will be an immediate success, Angel. As I said, it’s a very popular area."

Gregory cut into a slice of melt-in-your-mouth roast beef. It will be a success because Angel will select top-of-the-line talented entertainment to open the club. Then, grinning, he looked toward his brother-in-law.

Miguel shook his head and sighed. Yeah. When I got a call from Bill, he told me he had arranged for me to premier with Changelings again for The Runway’s L.A. opening. So I said I’d think about it. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m as proficient on the guitar as I should be, and I haven’t spent much time training my voice since I graduated from college.

Mariah swallowed a mouthful of green beans. Listen to your elders, Miguel. You played and sang background for me in my club in France and didn’t miss a note. Then when we did that duet, you had the women screaming the house down! You had to do two encores before they would let you go back to playing your instruments: the guitar and the violin. You’re ready, Miguel. Don’t hold back. Feel the fire and let it flow.

You made it easy for me, Mariah. Without your encouragement, I don’t know whether I would have had the courage to get on stage before an audience as sophisticated as your patrons. Playing the college circuit in the US is one thing, but performing at the internationally iconic Mariah’s? That’s a whole new level of continental class.

Angelique frowned at her brother. Why would you say that, Miguel? You’ve played with Changelings before here at the Kennedy Center. What’s the difference?

That was while I was in high school, college, and grad school. I played while fooling around on my guitar with Whitney Ivy and Tucker. Now, they’re the ones who are showstoppers. Whitney Ivy can sing like you, Mariah, or like Aretha and play the guitar like she was born to make music. Tucker can play any instrument in a band, and his voice is second to none. If I were as proficient as the two of them, you couldn’t hold me back.

Fenster shook his head at his stepson, whom he loved as dearly as if he were his biological offspring. Miguel, I’ve been an international solo and concert violinist for over thirty years. I know raw talent when I hear it. The only one holding you back is you. So I suggest that while you’ve got time before your next project starts rehearsal, put in some time on your music, and as Mariah said, ‘let it flow.’ You’ll know whether you can live up to your expectations, but get out of your own way.

Music played during dinner and added to the day that could not be more beautiful. Miguel watched the sunlight filter through the leaves, already beginning to turn to the brilliant red, yellow, gold, and orange fall colors. He could almost set the dappled sunlight and chilled pine-scented air to music. Mentally, the sounds and lyrics flowed through him. Mariah and his stepdad were right. He would start developing his voice and electric guitar-playing ability and writing the love songs that were in his head and heart. These were the crossroads he was facing. Would he do more with his music and spend less time on his television and movie roles? Or was there something more to do outside of the entertainment arena? He felt there was more he wanted to experience in his life. Vivian Alexander Montgomery, his mentor, told him to choose a career he loved and he would never feel as if he worked a day in his life. That was the answer he was looking for to solve the issues of his crossroads. 

Fenster noticed something other than Miguel’s insecurities that seemed to bother his stepson. After all, he had known Miguel since he was seven. He had never been a moody kid. However, something wasn’t quite in sync. So, after the meal, Fenster, Miguel, and the other men in the family took the children for a long walk through Rock Creek Park. They chatted while Clayton, AnnaAretha, and Jodie ran helter-skelter and excitedly from pillar to post. Still, Fenster couldn’t find out more information before they and Miguel packed up and flew to California the next day.

Chapter 2

Monday morning in Los Angeles County, California…

ANITA KIDD BROKE LAND SPEED records as she did in high school and college on UCLA’s NCAA track team. This time, she was dashing from her hooptie at the far end of the employees’ parking lot to the back door of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Inside the building, she dodged other officers going off duty like an obstacle course because she was running late for a seven o’clock morning roll call. Her home was in Cudahy, and the traffic was murder on the twelve-mile stretch to West Temple Street in Los Angeles this morning. Anita felt she could have run the route on foot and made better time.

Still, she didn’t slow to a quick step until she reached the ready room where her fellow officers were receiving their orders for the day. Then, bending low, Anita eased the door open and slipped inside; she hoped unnoticed. She stuffed her curly hair into her cap before standing up to her five-foot-nine-inch height and placing her hands behind her back.

Jeremy Stoddard on her left and Marilyn Taylor on her right slid slightly apart, making space for Anita to slip into the row. Anita was supposed to be standing several rows ahead since the sergeant liked to line up his new and seasoned officers alphabetically by their surnames. It made it easier for him to associate the new names and faces in a particular order.

Paco Ramirez signaled for Anita to ease in beside him, getting her closer to where she should be in line. Every time their sergeant looked down at his computer screen to read an incident report, someone would help her move up a row until she was where she was supposed to be standing. Finally, she released a quiet sigh of relief and stood at parade rest with her hands behind her back.

Sergeant Tom Oliver, the first shift supervisor, read the last incident report from the night shift and gave directions on what to look out for during the day shift. He then looked up and over the sea of faces. Okay, be safe out there. I want to see every one of you back here for the close of shift. Dismissed!

Paco waited for Anita to end her conversations, thanking people for having her back. Ready, partner?

Give me a few moments to freshen up, and I’ll meet you outside the garage.

Okay, I’ll see—

"Officer Kidd!" Sergeant Oliver bellowed, causing heads to turn.

Anita closed her dark golden eyes and slightly hunched her shoulders. By the tone of her sergeant’s voice, Anita knew she was in trouble . . . again.

Paco looked over her shoulder at their sergeant and sighed. Uh oh.

Anita shook her head before turning and walking toward the man who stood akimbo. She stood straight and looked her sergeant in his eyes. Yes, Sergeant Oliver?

Officer Kidd, did you or did you not tell a citizen that if you caught him anywhere near a schoolyard again, you’d yank his piss pole out of his body by pulling his tongue out of his throat and not stop until you yanked said piss pole inside out?

Um, well, you see, Sarge, it was like this. This ‘citizen’ has been exposing himself to the young children at the elementary school over on Philson. I put it in the run sheet—

Officer Kidd! I’ve read your run sheet twice. It’s a little scant on details about this incident. Did you or did you not threaten a citizen with bodily harm while on duty yesterday?

"I wouldn’t call it ‘threatening,’ Sarge. Rather, I painstakingly explained that bad behavior would have dire consequences."

Did you lay hands on him?

Well, sir, he insisted I kiss his penis to make it feel better. I wasn’t inclined to do so. So instead, I assisted him with zipping his fly, Sarge, she hastened to explain, but I didn’t touch him. I swear, Sarge.

"Apparently, your assistance caused him to be hospitalized after his penis got caught in his zipper. It took eight stitches to close the injury."

I’ve noticed that button-up trousers are coming back into style again. Perhaps that will help him avoid the metal zipper’s teeth in the future.

That’s your suggestion for avoiding future injury?

I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I didn’t look down while offering my assistance. It was such a little thing that I must not have noticed that his penis was caught in the zipper.

Sergeant Oliver shook his head and bared his teeth at his new recruit. Is that your official report, Officer Kidd?

Without a smile anywhere in the vicinity of her face, Anita stared into his eyes. Yes, sir. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Still, she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

Officer Kidd, what do we do here at the sheriff’s department?

Anita blinked, frowned, and wondered whether this was a trick question. Still, she straightened her stance, brought her head up, and with a firm, confident voice, recited what she had learned at the police academy. The department’s three main responsibilities entail providing patrol services for the one-hundred-fifty-three unincorporated communities of Los Angeles County, California, and forty-two cities. Second, we provide courthouse security for the Superior Court of Los Angeles County. Third, we house and transport inmates within the county jail system.

Very good, Officer Kidd. Do any of those services include assisting a citizen with zipping up his fly?

We’re also here to serve and protect, Sarge. It says so on the door of my cruiser. So, yesterday, I was serving a pervert citizen by assisting him in closing his fly and protecting the children.

Sergeant Oliver just stared before he shook his head and dismissed her. She didn’t have to see the smile on his face. He loved Officer Kidd’s spunk, and she was a top-notch recruit. She was also an excellent markswoman, one of the best he had ever seen. She was a multi-talented officer. He knew Officer Kidd would do exceptionally well in the sheriff’s department, and Tom intended to help her on her meteoric rise. Yet, though he didn’t want to dampen her spirit, she had to toe the line, and he wouldn’t let her get away with it.

Anita was almost out of the door when she heard the sergeant’s voice again.

By the way, Officer Kidd, you were late again this morning. This is the third time in two weeks. I don’t care whose daughter she is, but Officer Bannon need not continue to rehearse her attempts to replicate your mellifluous tones in roll call. You will both receive a seven-day rip if you are late again or she attempts to cover for you.

Well, that’s clear enough, Anita thought as she nodded her understanding, pushed through the heavy doors, and headed to the lady’s room. When she entered, her pal, Jennifer Bannon, came out of a stall smoking a vapor cigarette.

"Hey, sister girl. I actually found an excuse to talk with Paco, the all-the-way-live hunky partner of yours. I pretended I was looking for you so I could start a conversation with him, but all he said was that Sergeant Oliver