Making A Case For Love

By Carol D. Styron

Once a pervert, always a pervert! thought Taylor Johnson about her married boss. Taylor is a lonely 33 years old black woman with a checkered past. She works as a secretary for a family-owned architectural firm for a lecherous boss that tries to seduce her every chance he gets.

Taylor is tired of her boss's attempt at seducing her but has to hang on to her job. She is saving money to open a beauty salon. Her secret past is what drives her to succeed.

One night after a run-in with her boss, Taylor goes to her favorite bar and meets an attractive white shipping businessman, Mark Carlton. Mark is at the bar drowning his sorrows over an unexpected breakup with his fiance, Ashley Winters, a high-priced lawyer.

Ashley wants Mark back but will his budding friendship with Taylor daunt her dreams of winning him back? Will Ashley's expertise as a lawyer help Taylor realize her dreams? Or will the shocking past that Mark and Taylor unknowingly share destroy all of their lives?

Making A Case for Love is a drama that will pull you in from the start and never let you go. With enticing characters, good humor, and a riveting plot, you will be amazed at how entertaining searching for love could be!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Styron
• Release date: Feb 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201480165

Book preview

MAKING

A CASE FOR LOVE

By

CAROL D. STYRON

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my good friend Anthony Lokossah, who died suddenly on October 6, 2021. I miss you Tony. He was a man that loved a good story. I hope you readers do too.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

A Year And Half Later

CHAPTER 1

The Metropolitan Office at 42 Times Square stood tall along New York City’s skyline. Taylor Johnson sat at her desk on the office building’s 20th floor.

Yes, Mr. Brown? Taylor Johnson asked as she reluctantly walked into her boss’s office after hearing him call out to her. Her back was aching and her head was pounding so she was in no mood to deal with any shenanigans.

Have a seat, Mr. Brown said, pointing to the empty chair facing his desk.

Ms. Johnson, I just want you to know what a wonderful job you have been doing, the brown skinned black man said after he took a seat behind his desk.

Thanks, she said, sitting down in the seat offered to her; she anxiously waited to see what he really wanted.

The manager’s position is coming up again and I think you are qualified.

Taylor sat up in her seat. That’s great because I had my eye on that position for a while now.

You know in order for the person to get that position, they have to have the right connections.

He stood up and came closer to her.

I applied so many times but never got a response.

I can guarantee you the position, but you have to do something for me. You’re a beautiful black woman and a man can get lonely sometimes, he said, softly stroking her long black hair as goose bumps ran down her spine.

How can you get lonely when you have a wife? Like I told you before, I am not interested in you, she snapped, slapping his hands away.

But it’s all right for a woman to change her mind.

I have no intention of changing mine. She stood up from her chair and walked toward the door.

So, what? It’s not like you can report me, said Mr. Brown.

I already reported you to HR but since your family owns this company, of course they aren’t willing to do anything about it.

Correction, my dear, it’s my wife’s family who owns this company and they would never believe anything you have to say against me. They were so glad that any man would look twice at my wife, they practically paid me to marry her, he snickered.

Disgusting, Taylor thought.

I guess you don’t really want the position? he asked, sitting down behind his desk, swerving in his large black chair.

I guess I don’t. She shrugged.

Then you will always be a third-rate secretary, he said with a nefarious grin.

And you will always be a first-rate pervert, Taylor thought.

She bolted out the door and sprinted towards her office across the hall. She knew she had other options besides going to HR to stop Mr. Brown from harassing her. If I file a lawsuit, I could lose everything, but I’m just so sick and tired of this pervert trying to get into my pants. Moreover, if she did go down this route, Mr. Brown would most likely hire the best lawyers and dig up things from her past. I can’t risk it, she finally decided. I worked too hard to get to where I am, and I refuse to let Mr. Brown or anybody else take that away from me!

Taylor sat down at her desk twisting her head from side to side as she tried to relieve the tension in her neck. Then she glanced at her watch. It was 7 p.m. and she had worked overtime that night. She was stressed and a bit tired. Since it was Friday night, she refused to let what just happened consume her. She grabbed her red purse and matching red sweater then punched out the time clock and headed out the door. After a quick subway ride, she arrived home and attempted to lay down for a nap. But the dreams she had been having off and on for more than a decade made her restless. The dream was always the same: she’s lying on a bed and a young man comes in and shoots another man. She knows who the murdered man is, but she can’t make out the face of the shooter. Each time it seems he’s about to reveal his face, she wakes from the dream in a sweat.

Taylor could not rest and was feeling lonely. She showered, brushed her hair, and pinned it up in a French roll. Fabulous, she thought, admiring the way she did her hair. She’d loved doing hair ever since she was a little girl. Her mother was a hairdresser and taught her that skill. Taylor was a natural and learned quickly. While growing up, she would go around the neighborhood doing other people’s hair and was often paid for her services.

She went to beauty school and obtained a license to work as a professional after she graduated from high school. She never practiced professionally because life got in the way. So many people from her past had mistreated her throughout her life and put her down. They told her that she was no good and would never amount to a thing. One of her dreams was to become her own boss to prove to herself that she was worthy. She wanted to open her own beauty salon, but obtaining store space in New York City was difficult because leasing prices were astronomical. She managed to save $10,000, but knew she needed at least $40,000 to get started. If she had gotten the manager’s position, her salary probably would have doubled and she would have been closer to realizing her dream.

Taylor put on her favorite brown mini skirt, black fishnet stockings, a white lace blouse and threw on a gold chain to accentuate the outfit. Then she applied makeup. She walked into the bathroom to get a better look at herself in the well-lit mirror and winced at the way she looked. It reminded her of how she used to dress in the past--a past she wanted to forget. She wet a purple washcloth and scrubbed off some of the make-up.

Screw it, I am going out to have fun tonight, she said, throwing the washcloth back into the sink.

She picked up her black leather bag and a thick brown sweater because it was the middle of October. The weather in New York City this time of the year tends to be chilly at night. She walked out the front door, heading towards her favorite hangout spot, Cavanaugh’s.

***

Oh, God! Ashley Winters shrieked as she hopped off her lover’s body and rolled to the carpeted floor. She heard a key turn in the front door to her apartment, which stood across town on the upper east side of Manhattan in a high-rise apartment building.

You wanted a screw that bad; you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom? her fiancé Mark

Carlton snarled as he advanced farther into the apartment, after slamming the front door behind him.

Ashley was terrified because she knew Mark had a temper and she had been caught red-handed.

She could not predict the outcome of this terrible situation.

The next time you decide to fuck somebody behind my back, make sure it’s a real man; just look at him, he’s pathetic! said Mark. Ashley’s lover was young and skinny without a muscle on his pre-adolescent-looking body.

Man, I’m sorry, the lover said as he searched for his clothing while a stunned Ashley got up from the floor and sat on the edge of the sofa. She cupped her hands over her small breasts. Then started rocking back and forth like a mother trying to get her newborn baby to sleep. She was trying to calm her nerves. Mark inched closer to the couch; Ashley flinched. She thought he was going to harm her. Mark picked the terrified young man’s clothes off the floor piece by piece and grabbed him by his arm.

Mark, don’t! Ashley begged. Chester, just leave.

Chester? Mark mocked. You cheated on me with someone named Chester?

Please, don’t hit me, Chester said, trembling. He instinctively threw his hands up to protect his face. Mark lifted the bony, nude man by his arm with one hand as he held his clothing and shoes in the other. He dragged him across the floor as the rough edges from the carpet scratched his naked body. Then he opened the front door and threw him out, letting him land on the concrete floor. He balled up his belongings and threw them on top of him, slamming the door behind him. He marched back into the apartment and charged straight towards Ashley who was in a frenzy trying to get dressed. After she finished dressing, she tossed back her long brunette hair and then looked at Mark as he stood silently waiting to hear what she had to say.

I…. Ashley began.

I don’t want to hear one word out of your mouth, he shouted.

She lowered her head because she was ashamed. She knew he was hurting and she was the cause of that pain. Mark paced back and forth for a few minutes.

The wedding is off, Mark said.

I don’t blame you, Ashley said, sobbing.

How could you?

I messed up, she continued to sob as her tiny shoulders shook and her voice cracked.

Take everything you own and get out of my damn apartment.

I know you’re hurt, but we mean so much to each other.

How many men have you fucked on my couch? he said, moving closer to her.

I know you don’t want to hear this, but I love you, Ashley said.

Don’t ever tell me that again because it’s a lie. Just pack your things and get out! Mark said, jabbing his index finger directly in her face as he tried to suppress his tears.

Just hear me out, begged Ashley.

I’m leaving. Be gone by the time I get back, he said as he stormed out of the apartment slamming the door behind him.

***

An hour later, Taylor finally arrived at Cavanaugh’s because of a train delay. What should have been a 10-minute ride had turned into a 60-minute one.

I’ll have a rum and Coke, Ron, Taylor said to the bartender as she sat on the stool at

Cavanaugh’s. She loved this bar not only because it had great drinks but Friday night karaoke. Her usual routine, after she had a few drinks, was to pick her favorite Whitney Houston song and sing her heart out. She had made many friends at the bar but didn’t see any of them there tonight, so she ordered another drink after downing the first one. Ron swiped her hand away after she reached to put some money down on the bar. The bartender pointed to a man sitting on the lounge couch a foot away.

That gentleman over there offered to pay for your drink, he said.

Tell him thanks, but no thanks, she said. She turned back around to face the bar, peeping inconspicuously behind her. She could see that the man who had offered to pay for her drink had medium length blond hair that fell above his broad shoulders and his straight pointy nose which gave him a look of royalty. He was easy on the eyes, but I wonder what he’s doing in a bar on this side of town.

She could tell from his red strained eyes that he had been drinking heavily, so she turned back toward the bar. The last thing she needed was for some drunk guy coming on to her after her confrontation with Mr. Brown earlier. She resumed her drinking as she swayed her head to the beat of the music playing in the background. Then she threw her head back and laughed loudly after having another drink. The tension and strain she had felt earlier completely vanished.

You know what it means when a woman sitting at a bar refuses a man’s offer to buy her a drink?

Taylor heard a man with a husky voice speak as he stood behind her. Twirling around, she turned to face him and immediately recognized that he was the same man sitting at the lounge who offered to buy her a drink. She was able to examine him thoroughly now and could clearly see that she was right. He was good looking, not particularly her type, but that never stopped her from sleeping with a guy before. But after her run in with Mr. Brown earlier, she vowed that she would be sleeping alone tonight.

No, what does it mean? Taylor said.

It means that she’s a high maintenance, independent woman that doesn’t need a man. You sound like a smart man, she said, pointing to the seat next to her.

Have a seat? Sure, he was drunk, she thought, but she had to admit she liked his opening line, and since she didn’t see any of her friends yet, she could use the company. Mark Carlton wobbled on to the stool.

I refused your drink earlier because I just had a run-in with my perverted boss a few hours ago, and I didn’t want another confrontation with any man tonight.

Do you want to know why I’m here? he slurred.

Yeah, sure go right ahead because I doubt if I can do anything to stop you from telling me anyway.

She was such a lovely girl and she ripped my heart to shreds, he said.

And what did you do to cause her to do that?

Why do you automatically assume that I had anything to do with her breaking my heart?

I don’t know her so I’m not going to sit here and defend her, but it is a known fact that men are responsible for 80% of breakups in a relationship.

May I ask where you get your statistics from? He was intrigued.

I read it online at AskAnyWoman.com. I bet that’s an unbiased site? he said.

Biased, unbiased, I really don’t care to talk about this frivolous stuff anymore.

We can talk about something else, so, tell me, what is a beautiful woman doing sitting in a bar all alone on a Friday night?

You were the one who just said I didn’t need a man. I did say that, right? Mark asked absent mindedly.

I think perhaps someone had too much to drink.

You don’t look too steady yourself, Mark offered.

Touché, Taylor said as she turned toward the bar and finished off her latest drink. They talked for a few more minutes and he shared what happened between him and Ashley. Taylor listened to his story but thoughts of her situation at work took precedence in her mind. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was to listen to someone else’s blues. Saved by the bell, she thought when the music in the background abruptly ceased.

May I have your attention everybody, the plump faced bar host, Judy Cavanaugh, called out.

We are ready to start our karaoke session tonight. For those of you who know how to sing, who don’t know how to sing, and for those of you who just want to get up and have a ball, don’t be afraid to step up to the mike. Judy pointed over to her beer belly-hanging husband and said, Go to Bill over there and pick out your favorite song. Let him know what yawl is in the mood for and let yourself go. It’s going to be a fun night!

I’m ready, Bill, Taylor said, jumping out of her seat because she was elated that karaoke was about to commence. She felt that she and the stranger had said enough for one evening. Despite her blasé attitude towards him, she did find him attractive. She was afraid that if she sat next to him any longer, she would change her mind about sleeping alone tonight. She walked towards Bill and picked out the song ‘The Greatest Love of All’ by Whitney Houston.

Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a warm welcome for Ms. Taylor Johnson, said Judy introducing her to the crowd. The crowd started applauding as soon as she stepped on stage. She immediately got into the song, hitting all the right notes. She was sailing along until she hit the bridge and then the music abruptly stopped.

Hey, I didn’t finish. Taylor bellowed.

I’m sorry, but we have someone who wants to join you, Judy said, joining her on stage.

You know I like singing alone, Taylor said through gritted teeth.

Oh, come on, darling, he’s really cute, Judy pleaded.

Be a sport, Taylor, a man shouted from the crowd.

Give the guy a break, someone else yelled.

What the heck; send him up, Taylor shrugged. She couldn’t see who wanted to join her on stage, so she put her hand over her brow to narrow her vision. As the stranger approached, she started to feel an agitation in her gut because something told her that the man now approaching her was the man she just finished talking to. Mark stumbled onto the stage after Judy handed him a mike and then she scooted from the stage. He inched closer to Taylor and threw his arm around her shoulders.

Her first instinct was to pull away from him but didn’t. A lot of people in the bar knew who she was and she