Monday, May 16, 2016

Thicker Than Blood an excerpt from Charlotte's Chance

Charlotte started going into detail about doing Brenda’s house, which she had finished a week ago.  Badly.  It had been her worst work yet.  That had a lot more to do with her being a frazzled wreck than anything else.  It had all seemed like such a good idea taking care of Sandra’s things, looking in on her apartment, and seeing to Penelope at the kennel.  She had accessed her accounts, and opened online bill pay funneling the money directly from her account to her creditors.  She had needed to move several thousands from her savings to her checking.  But the woman had an almost trust fund balance in her savings from royalties from her grandfather’s shipping empire.   It hadn’t even put a dent in things.  Charlotte had gone by her apartment and watered her plants a week and a half ago, and that’s when things had started getting interesting.

Charlotte had left Brenda’s feeling pretty good about the way the room was going.  She had made a brief stop by Penelope’s kennel, which had been on the way, to pay the bill.  Sandra had given her an emergency ATM card years ago just in case.  Charlotte had locked it in the safe in the house. 

Sandra had the safe installed when she had first purchased the house eight years ago while she had been studying for her doctorate in Oklahoma.  According to Sandra Oklahoma City was dead on the weekends.  So she would travel to Dallas every Friday afternoon to stay for the weekend, and then head back to Oklahoma on Mondays.  Being tired of hotels she had spent her savings on a house in Richardson.  A few years after she had returned to Dallas by way of Scotland she had been ready to get rid of the house.

Only pure coincidence could explain just why Charlotte had been in the market for a house.  Her business had started going so well after she had met Brenda who would recommend her for all of the high money projects that she had worked on.  So it was time for Charlotte to get out of the one bedroom apartment in North Dallas, and put money into property.

Charlotte and Sandra had been casual friends from their initial meeting in the nightclub.  On weekends they would get together and talk about their pet project W.A.R.M. Soon Charlotte had brought in Brenda, and then Sandra had introduced them to Deborah and Rachel.  Suddenly Sandra had been selling her house, and their friendship had taken on a new dynamic.

It had been a funny scene because Sandra had put the house on the market. Charlotte had seen the ad, and called it up.  When she had met up with Charlotte, and not some stranger wanting to buy her house, Sandra had smiled and said she knew a sign when she saw one.  If Charlotte wanted the house it was hers.  Sandra had brokered the thing herself so that closing costs and realtor commissions wouldn’t make the house beyond Charlotte’s reach. 

This had led to she and Charlotte becoming even closer as Sandra helped Charlotte fulfill a dream she had since she had been small; having her own home.  They had been like sisters since.  Being an only child, Sandra had fancied the idea of having a younger sister, and always treated Charlotte like that.  She would tell Charlotte things first, secrets about herself, and what was happening in her life.  Asking her opinion on matters, something that the outwardly self-confident doctor didn’t like to admit needing help with.  At those times she could look at Sandra, and know that this woman would do anything for her without a second thought.

It was those kinds of things that had made Charlotte uncommonly loyal to Sandra.  As Charlotte knew first hand, sometimes your own family didn’t care about your happiness as much as they cared about their own personal gain. She loved all of her family dearly, but she could count on one hand the members of her family that would’ve moved heaven and earth to make her dreams come true; the ones who already had which were her mother, brother, and grandmother. The three of them together by begging, borrowing, and pleading had made sure that Charlotte had gotten through school at the Savannah School of Art and Design.

Her grandmother wasn’t a wealthy woman.  She and the late Dougal McConnell had come to America from Scotland with nothing but three shirts, two pairs of pants, a couple of dresses, and a few family heirlooms.  So the family had never had anything but a strong work ethic, and a desire to earn their keep.  Her mother and brother had individual trusts put in place by his father, her first husband Jonathan Clangston.  They weren’t plentiful, but they made it possible for her mother to retire two years ago, and for her brother to carry on his international affairs without much fuss.  Everyone had lived a little less than comfortable when they had decided together that Charlotte’s career goals were worthwhile; her mother even more so with the added burden of providing care for her elderly diabetic mother.

Her mother’s two sisters loved her, but they had children of their own.  Bernice and Carolyn were older than Anna Marie, and they balanced husbands, children, grandchildren, and helped Anna Marie care for their mother: children, and grandchildren that Charlotte only saw every few years at family reunions.  She always felt bad about the fact that she wouldn’t even recognize the whole lot of them if they met up somewhere, and she was quite sure that it was the same for them with her.

Her father’s family was a joke.  Just a clan of Irish and Welsh that found it nigh near impossible to conduct themselves within the confines of the law.  Even worse they would steal the shirt off of the back of a blood relative without batting an eyelash.  It seems that they had been in America for centuries robbing and cheating their way through life.  So bad that even the Irish mobs wouldn’t have them.  They had no honor at all. 


That aspect of Charlotte’s blood made her very aware of loyalty, and the importance of keeping your word no matter what.  It was one of her grandmother’s rules. Only on penalty of death should someone be forsworn, and Charlotte believed in that.  She had promised Sandra when she had helped her get her house that if there were ever a time that she should need help she would not need to look any further. 


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Thursday, May 12, 2016

Welcome to W.A.R.M. from Sandra's Social

“Second topic on the agenda.”  Sandra interrupted.  “I was offered a very interesting proposition today, and I wanted the board to vote on it.”
The ladies gave Sandra their undivided attention.
“I had an interview with the local news network today, and they showed interest in me having my own segment.”
“What would you talk about?”  Brenda squawked.
“That is the appealing aspect, whatever I want.”
A collective hum went up as the ladies digested that information.
“Whatever doesn’t always mean whatever.”  Rachel began, “They may want you to maintain a certain degree of political correctness”.
“That’s what I figured too so I made a clause that says that they get to review my discussions, but not edit them at all.  The station is hoping that it will become some kind of syndicated broadcast that the station gets the rights for of course.”
“Of course,” mocked Charlotte.
“So they want you to be like that quack Dr. Phil,” Deborah muttered under her breath.
“I’m nothing like Dr. Phil,” Sandra started indignantly. “I’m much shorter.”
“Will this show end up being a soapbox for W.A.R.M.?”  Brenda inquired showing her seldom seen serious side.
“I don’t know how much of one it can be.  I would have to branch out to other topics. Although I was thinking that my first guest could be a certain W.A.R.M. board member. Someone who has had their finger on the pulse of this movement; someone who has been there since day one.” Slowly the women started to look at Charlotte who was sitting quietly typing.  Then suddenly she popped her head up sending blonde hair flying then cascading softly to rest in slight disarray as she stared at Sandra in growing comprehension and horror.
“No way, I’m horrible at things like that.”
“It would be a good time to get over your performance anxiety.”  Deborah shrugged.
“No, I suck at public speaking.”  She looked to her left. “What about Brenda?”
“Not me love, being affiliated with a rogue social movement would most definitely put me out of the running for the new Collin County Arts Center project.  Any other time I’d love to, but I have to stay uncontroversial for another month or so.”
“Deborah,” Charlotte sang hopefully.
“I’m a hired county official that gets W.A.R.M. information from other county officials.  The fallout would be immense.”
Getting desperate. “Rachel, please.”
“No can do, I’m leaving tomorrow for an 18 month tour with Aerosmith.”
“It’s not like you perform, they could get someone else to do their tech.”
“Besides the fact that it’s always the best money I’ve ever made, they asked for me and my crew personally. I’d hate to let Steven and the boys down.”
Sandra elbowed her friend. “That just leaves you Charlotte.”
Charlotte stomped her feet in protest. “There has to be another way.”
The meeting room door opened, and a pretty brunette took a couple of steps in, and then stopped. “Dr. Dalianas.  Hi I don’t know if you remember me.”
“Michelle, of course I remember you.”  Sandra jumped up and shook her hand.  “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Was I interrupting?”
Charlotte smiled devilishly at her. “Not at all, hi I’m Charlotte Rhoades, vice-president and secretary.” She put her hand out to shake.
Rachel stood. “Rachel Adams, operations and field management.”
Brenda smiled wide. “Brenda Margiani, treasurer, legal and basic training.”
“Dr. Deborah McKilligan, parliamentarian, case follow-up, and board counseling.”
Sandra laughed. “Since we’re being formal, Dr. Sandra Dalianas, president, founder, advanced trainer, and head recruiter of Women Assisting the Reclamation of Man.  Welcome to W.A.R.M.”



Available on AmazonBarnes & Noble and Goodreads

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

The Women of W.A.R.M.

Charlotte got up from her seat, and moved towards the window of the meeting room they were in.  Sandra had to give it to Charlotte.  She was looking absolutely stunning these days.  When she had met Charlotte she had been a healthy size 16.  Her 5’ 8” stature made most of it look really good, but you could tell she was unhappy with herself, and her appearance.  The blonde had gone from buxom to downright tempting in the next 3 years.  She was now a modest size 7, very happy there, and had kept to that size for the past year.  She had always been pretty with her big blue-green eyes and her wide expressive mouth, but she was alluring now.  Her cheekbones were defined and her nose was slimmer.  She had cut her hair to a long in front bob that showcased her long neck and ultra-feminine shoulders.  It also showcased a head of hair that went from light brown to golden blonde in a natural process that women paid hundreds of dollars for.
Charlotte had a women’s build.  She had become lean with modest sized breasts. She was slim, but not too so skinny you wanted to feed her constantly.  Her waist, shapely hips, and derriere made those low-rise jeans look fantastic on her.  Sandra had started feeling unattractive around her, and that made her feel shallow, and a slave to the very nature that she was trying to eliminate.  Sandra was exotic, but Charlotte was classic.  And unless you liked your women with big boobs, an abnormally narrow waist, giant hips, giant ass, and those oh so sexy linebacker shoulders, you probably wouldn’t want Sandra.
“Hello ladies.”  Brenda blew into the room in her usual fashion.  First the smell of Liz Taylor’s Black Diamonds, and then a whiff of Vanilla from her over coiffed naturally straight blue-black hair that was piled on top of her head.  She had a designer hairspray that smelled of Vanilla.  Her Gucci clutch landed on the table near Sandra as she took a prim seat in the chair next to her. A red plaid Liz Arden suit with gold toggles matching her black & gold Christian Dior pumps adorned her figure.
Brenda was not an attractive lady in the conventional sense.  She was average height, 5’ 6”.  Not too much leg; not too much torso; not too meaty; not too slender, and a real primo nice set of breasts though.  In her own words, ‘you don’t often see real ones this perky’.  Her intense ice blue eyes startled you in their paleness.  To maximize this affect she usually kept them fringed in heavy mascara and thick black eyeliner. Facial features that met you were sharp and blunt all at the same time, swimming heavily in her Italian ancestry, and merely wading in her Welsh.  The combination as a whole was stark and startling.  The oddity of her features was entrancing, and in the oddest way quite lovely. Add that with her healthy amounts of confidence, and the way she exuded power.  She held great beauty.
Brenda was a self-made woman.  She had graduated as an architect 12 years ago, and had instantly scored the biggest business venture ever.  It had taken sixteen months, but she had successfully designed and copyrighted the infamous bank building in Downtown Dallas that featured a most interesting architectural design that resembled a keyhole at the top of the building.  One of her graduation projects had been the interior of the city’s best symphony hall.  By studying the configuration of wind instruments she had figured out a way to stack the walls that caused sound to vibrate and bounce at a higher magnitude than most other symphonic halls.  Of course the architect she understudied for took all the credit.  He claimed who was better qualified to make such a discovery, him or his assistant, who was also a woman. Guess whom the board sided with.  Being completely miffed by this Brenda had reworked the layouts so that he ended up stacking the walls wrong leaving her to have to go in behind him and fix them.  This proved once and for all who had really been the mastermind behind the center’s design which was what actually scored her an arts center job.  From that day forward Brenda had resolved to stand behind no one.  Her projects would be her own, and the construction companies would deal with her and her alone.
Charlotte had been responsible for Brenda being in their lives.  Four years ago Charlotte had put her BA in interior design to good use and founded Not Just Ceilings and Walls. The company had designed the interior of Brenda’s first independent project, a restaurant in North Dallas called Avanti.  They had met and hit it off prompting Charlotte to tell her about W.A.R.M.  Brenda was instantly on board being sick of the male influence in her day-to-day life thanks to her career.  So Brenda got to soon add being an active member of W.A.R.M to her hobbies of being a clotheshorse, and a social butterfly.
“How are those red Prada sling backs I gave you?”  Brenda’s ice blue eyes lit up as she leaned over to pat Sandra’s hand.
“They are as wonderful as you said.”
“Worth the $350?”
“Every penny.”
Looking every bit like Jackie O in her prime, Brenda clucked as she started digging through her Gucci clutch. “I swear they are sexy. It’s a shame I could only wear them twice.”
Charlotte looked at Brenda questioningly, as usual confused by the woman’s sensibilities.  “Why only twice?”
“The dress that went with them, I wore it to the President’s Arts Gala last fall and to the TCU alumni anniversary dinner this past spring.  I was photographed at both occasions.  Anyone paying attention would notice.”  She put a dramatic hand to her forehead. “It would be so embarrassing; it’s not like I’m a pauper after all.”
Both Sandra and Charlotte simply looked blinkingly at Brenda.
Completely oblivious, Brenda huffed and continued.  “Speaking of galas, I’m hosting a fundraiser at the house in Willow Bend. Charlotte would you be my hero and update my living and dining rooms. Last time is still great, but—”
Charlotte interrupted, “I know, you wouldn’t want them to see it twice.  I’ll send Megan over in the morning, and I’ll look over her notes, and get back to you by Friday.”
“You are an angel.”  Brenda smiled as she refreshed her lipstick.
“You just don’t forget to mention my design company when those high society rags come through.” She smiled indulgently at Brenda.  She didn’t always understand the woman, but she really enjoyed her nonetheless.
Brenda gave her a brilliant smile. “Never darling,” she said in a droll self-mocking tone.
The door to the meeting room flew open and two women stood there, one glaring one laughing.  On the left, the glaring redhead turned flashing green eyes to Sandra, and then back to her companion.  The redhead’s normally pale skin tone was emitting tones of red in her fury.  She was dressed super business casual, as was her style; a basic white scoop neckline short sleeve top, and tan wide-legged slacks with no fuss no muss light tan flat sandals.  Deborah was the anti-Brenda if ever there were one.  She kept her outfits simple, and easy to maintain which was interesting since she was without doubt the one out of the group with the looks.  Her heart-shaped face, larger than life green eyes, her sharp pert nose, and pouty lips were a perfect picture framed by fire red hair that was laced with golden red strands and auburn highlights; all natural by the by.  She was definitely gorgeous in the drop-dead sense.  She kept her body fit and toned and stood about 5’ 2”, which most men found absolutely adorable.  Made her easy to physically manipulate Sandra had once jokingly explained to the group to get the little redhead’s ire up.
But the laughing lady to the right, Rachel, did something that Deborah’s beauty couldn’t.  She emitted sex. It was always unintentional, but potent, like Brenda’s “Black Diamonds” perfume.  It poured off of her when she walked into a room.  Her chocolate skin tone looked creamy, and her shoulder length curly ash brown hair whispered how soft it was. Dark brown eyes were always warm with invitation.  She stood a little intimidating at 5’ 9”, but it was fetching.  When she wasn’t on a job, RJ always wore long things, like the simple sleeveless turtle-necked black dress she was wearing that nearly touched the floor beneath her black strappy sandals.  Outfits like that showed off her long legs and smooth curves that practically beckoned for a man’s touch. Top this package off with an exquisite face. Not the pure beauty that Deborah was, but a more flamboyant look.  Her features were broad; her eyes, lips, her nose, and it made you stare without realizing that you were.  Right now those broad features were alight with mischief and humor.
“I can’t believe you did that,” exclaimed Deborah looking sidelong at Rachel.  “What is wrong with you?”
Sandra, welcoming the break from the drama that is Brenda, looked to Deborah and asked, “Did what?”
Deborah started shaking her head, her long red hair dusting her shoulders lightly as it continued down her back. Unforgiving, she pointed at Rachel who was looking unusually contrite.  Rachel’s eyes were downcast, and she continued to hiccup, which meant that she had been laughing very hard.  The ebony beauty raised her dark brown eyes to look at the room, and then turned to run out.
Charlotte rolled her eyes at the duo. “Well Debbie, what did she do?”
“She was being a bully is what.” She formed her face in a perfect pout as she glanced behind her to see Rachel bent over double laughing on the other side of the door.
“Do you remember her mark?” She finally started as she moved over to the other side of the conference table.
Everyone internally sighed as she began.  Deborah was one of those out-of-control redheads that you would find yelling bloody murder at a waiter who spilled coffee in front of her, not to mention how she would act had it been on her.  It took very little to get her angry, and she always held people responsible for their actions.  There were no mistakes for Debbie; there were just people who didn’t own up to their mistakes.  She was necessary for what they were trying to do, because she was like their blind lady of justice. Whenever there was a question of right and wrong she always knew where to look, and what questions to ask.  Deborah was a criminal psychiatrist who took her work into all aspects of her life.
Sandra had met Deborah while she had been consulting on a juvenile delinquency case three and a half years ago.  The case had involved a 13-year-old girl who had been caught prostituting.  Her mother had been a heroin addict who allowed her scummy boyfriend to pimp out her daughter for drug money.  Deborah had intentionally sought her out knowing that if anyone could help her get the 13–year-old exonerated, and away from her addicted mother, and most importantly her mother’s pimp boyfriend, it would be Sandra.  Whose reputation with the Dallas County DA’s office had become legend due to her key testimony in another trial involving child pornography. Most legal factions considered her a key expert in the subject because of her studies in gender sociology.
Debbie dropped her giant hemp purse in front of her on the table, and sat unabashedly down with her legs slightly ajar and arms on top of the table.  “Well miss audiovisual here decided that it wasn’t enough to teach him a normal lesson.”  She glared at Rachel as she began to make her way into the room.  “Instead he got a paranormal one.”
“A what?!”  Brenda as usual, cracked first.
“I can’t speak her techie mumbo-jumbo, so she’ll have to tell you.”
“He was a hard case.”  RJ giggled as she sat next to Charlotte.  “He wasn’t going to be broken with just a routine operation.”  She glanced deviously at the room as she folded her arms across her chest.  “So I stepped it up a notch.”
“Could we be sued?”  Sandra asked in all seriousness.
Rachel shook her head. “He’d be much too embarrassed to tell anyone, not even his therapist. Besides you can’t file charges against a person beyond this place.”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up completely intrigued. “Now you have to tell us what you did.”
Rachel made a smug face. “It was pretty simple really.  It turns out that Brian has a phobia about ghosts and such.  His mom would tell him these heinous stories when he was young to make him behave. Anyway, after our date a few nights ago I set-up some very convincing, not visible equipment to recreate his worst nightmare.  Last night he asked for sex, and I asked him for a commitment.  He refused so I set plan ‘nocturnal visitor’ into effect.”
Sandra felt her forehead crease. There was always one super dramatic ultra militant one in every group, and Rachel was definitely theirs.  Sandra didn’t blame her though.  When she had met Rachel she had been afraid to leave her house. The beauty had been mugged and raped 2 weeks prior to running into Sandra at a local grocery store 2 years ago.  She had visibly flinched when the male stocker had moved towards her to grab a box near her cart, thus dropping the can of ravioli she had in her hand.  Sandra had been in the same aisle for you guessed it, disgusting canned ravioli.  Sandra had picked up the can joking about how your body knew that this stuff was awful for it. Expecting a laugh at both their expense, Sandra saw the most painful look of horror she had ever seen.  So she had followed by asking her if she was okay, and the poor lady had immediately burst into tears.  The teachings of Ayita Sittingbull-Dalianas had taken over instantly. Sandra couldn’t keep to herself or mind her own business at that point.  She had been raised better than that.  Without a by your leave, she had bundled Rachel up, and got her out of there.

During that time Sandra had a house in the middle of Richardson.  She had gotten rid of it, and settled for a small one bedroom apartment because of how lonely the modest sized house had made her feel. The house in Richardson was where Sandra had shuffled Rachel off to.  The frightened woman had fought her every step of the way.  Finally she got her settled in the guest room with a large cup of tea and a very good book talking about how to cope with rape.  Rachel didn’t come out for 3 days.  Sandra had left her be, and left food and water outside of the door for whenever she was ready. She and Sandra had been close ever since.

Available on AmazonBarnes & Noble and Goodreads