Never Surrender

Never settle or is it rather never surrender. Life as it stands seems to toil away at the much ballyhooed art of the beatdown. It is a grinding churning crushing system of pure attrition. The presence of life means the absence of death however the toil of life is the pathway to the unavoidable outcome. All decisions in life function around survival and what is needed to enable the most successful method of survival possible. And while quality of life is a compelling attribute we are honed by challenge.  The true forge of human levity, quality and quantity is strife, trial and battle. The convention of battle has been perverted. We hardly know what it is anymore other than a terse conversation with a coworker. The most intense and effective battles happen within and not without. On a grander scale they happen with those who have false impressions and opinions of us. The ones we are closest too that know us in ways we don't know ourselves. If you know someone who has never had even a mild criticism of you don't trust them. They haven't bothered to see you. And we need to be seen to benefit from battle and strife.

 The words benefit from battle may sound foreign but if people really think about it very little of consequence has ever come from surrender or settling.  All that occurs is that an easier more palpable outcome transpired.  Meaning you most likely did not get what you came for but you got what you needed. Fighting for the sake of also has its benefits. Like sparring in arguments with others over perspectives and viewpoints. But upon occasion everyone has to meet a moment when everything is on the line. Never deny that at the core of human engagement and action curiosity and conflict remain our more prolific motivators. When circumstances threaten what one has termed their life the obvious answer is to fight for it.

We are animals and in this idea we crave some of the same things all animals crave. But mostly we crave the competition of life.  The battle of supremacy. Peace while a respectable concept gains very little favor at the table of human avarice and society hierarchy.  We scrape for resources sometimes as shows of power and force.  An animalistic concept that binds us to our own brutality no matter how much we may despise it.  And always there is this sense of something more when that code is accepted. But from the second I became aware of myself as a human being and as an animal I knew that fighting was part of the primary function of existing. I felt the burn of it pushing against the back of my throat.  I felt an untapped resource in my belly ready to turn on if battle was presented. Felt what the emotions of anger rage and hurt could produce. I felt the power of them scorch my heart and pump it to flame.

I often write about battle in my books because there is no battle that has higher stakes than those involving love. Make no mistake my characters are in a duel that they plan on making a lifelong occurrence. There are those that argue that sex and not love is what is needed.  If love was not a needed resource we would not fight about over it and with it. We fight for sex but the true condition that sex mimics is love. Humanity is rife with tales of love. Love of others, places, things even love of self.  All stories carry the component of love in some respect because only love has the power to make a battle just and righteous. When fighting for love what else is viewed so well?

There is a reason the saying is all is fair in love and war.  It details the underlying current of love and human relationships.  We found them in battle not always through community. It’s why it will always be known as the battle of the sexes.  The inherent idea that the very opposition between the natures of men and women is the core value that makes the attachment beneficial.  They say it takes a strong person to make a relationship work and last.  I agree and every girlfriend or boyfriend does their part to help build your arsenal. If you don't see a relationship as a fight or seek to avoid fights then the end result will be the same matching the effort you have put in. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

The battle has to be engaged daily as point of action and as a point of acceptance of the very natures we are victim to. What we search for is not the perfect partner but the perfect adversary.  The one that makes us face what we are even when it’s unpopular.  The one who has only challenge in their heart and in their spirits.  The one who will tirelessly meet you on the field of battle again and again knowing that there is not any other place they would rather be. The love of your life should fight with you, against you, because of you but always at your side. And they should under no circumstances settle for less of you or ever surrender you.

Don't Apologize for Calling a Spade a Spade

“What do you mean? This is good info.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t.  It’s about how it was acquired.” He paused pacing, and stared aimlessly at the back wall. “Unless a person who would have this information legally claims to have given it to you.” He threw up his arms dramatically.  “It can’t be used.”

“In a court of law,” she finished as she dropped her ever-tiring head into her hands.  Abandoning that she popped her head up causing her hair to cascade over her head, and resettle disheveled. “So all this really did was put me on the chopping block.”

Thomas made an odd negative sound that was between a growl, and a hum as he started pacing again.  “Not necessarily; it gives us more than we had before.”

Not seeing the bright side like he was Charlotte hissed, “That being?”

Her sharp tone made him stop pacing, and turn to look at her as an odd expression briefly crossed his normally passive features. “A path.  We can figure out what he is doing, and how he’s been doing it.” Thomas nodded to himself. “I can use it to make him incriminate himself.”

He then looked at her for only the second time since he had determined that she needed to relocate.  The hard lines of his face softened slightly.  The difference was almost undetectable.  Most people probably wouldn’t notice, but Charlotte had.  It made his lips soften, and the crinkles around his eyes lessen.

“You need to sleep.” The statement was more of an order than an observation. 

Thomas walked back to the SUV, and pulled out her gym bag.  With a head gesture he inferred that she should follow him.  Feeling like she was just tired enough not to argue, Charlotte lifted herself from the chair, and fell into pace behind him as he began clearing the space to the staircase.  They went upstairs, and he opened the door of the first room.  Charlotte followed him, and it was like she was at the Hyatt all of the sudden.

The room was like a hotel room.  The furniture was wooden and in solid colors.  Not great, but not bad.  It was mostly sterile, and looked like a man had picked out everything.  There were no knick-knacks, just basics.  An ugly pasty green couch, a matching chair, and some dull wooden end tables were the highlights of the decor.  In the corner was a kitchenette with a full sized fridge, stove, dishwasher, and microwave.  The sink was a single basin with a washrag, and dish soap nearby.  The second door in the room lead to a bedroom that housed a king-sized bed covered in a hideous beige comforter, and some more of the dull wooden end tables the living area sported.

“Bathroom is connected to the bedroom,” Thomas said as he threw her gym bag on the bed, and started for the door.

Charlotte stared at the room, and grabbed the arm of the brooding man as he passed her.  She almost hissed at the warmth of him through her fingertips.  The feeling was short lived as he stopped, and removed her hand from his arm by grasping her wrist.  The action made her snap her eyes to his, and they held for a moment neither of them blinking for the space of two breathes.

“You’re safe here Charlie.”

“Tommy—,” she stammered not really believing that she had addressed him so familiarly.  It had to be her exhaustion because he had not done anything that would make her assume such an air with him.  The look that danced in his eyes for a moment could’ve been shock or anger.  She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she had crossed some invisible line with the name that had fell from her lips.

 “Thomas,” she quickly corrected looking up at him.  “I didn’t mean— on the phone—”

He whipped her body into his, and ducked his head to seal his mouth to hers.  Charlotte felt the burn of his lips against hers.  The abrupt entry of his tongue pushing between her teeth made her stiffen, then practically melt against him.  Her wrists were captured behind her back by one of his larger hands.  The other hand had taken possession of her left butt cheek pulling her against his body.  She moaned in a haze of adrenaline, pleasure, and fear as she kissed him back with just as much ferocity as he was kissing her with.  His hips were grinding into hers.  She could feel the length of his erection between them.  With that knowledge her knees nearly buckled.  What she wouldn’t give to get her hands on him.

What had started as rough tongue stabbing was dissipating.  The forays he took between her lips were becoming more leisurely as he explored her mouth with long slow licks that drug his tongue over all of the surfaces of hers.  He would pull away slightly, and then decide that he wasn’t done, and take her mouth again.  This happened a few more times before he pulled back, and slowly licked his lips.  Panting they held there breathing each other’s air.  He let his eyes roam over her face.  She watched as they settled on her lips then flew back to her eyes.

“Don’t apologize for calling a spade a spade,” his deep voice was rough, and his accent was dominating his pronunciation.
An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

And Now the Running

Sandra had a corner apartment on the third floor.  They were the only units in the building that offered the large obnoxious roman bathtubs.  The only draw back, if you saw it that way, was that they were at the end of the living group for the hallway.  The closest thing to her door was the fire escape across the hall. It was open, and Sandra loved to climb it instead of taking the elevator or the interior stairs.  In her heart of hearts Sandra was really a recluse, and this suited her.

While musing over the oddities that comprised her best friend, Charlotte had locked the door, and had that feeling. As soon as she had turned the bolt, the sudden creepy crawly feeling of being watched covered her.  It had been in a split second, but her mind had yelled RUN!!  She hadn’t thought about it, she had just reacted.  She had run to the elevator of the long hall way as the door was closing.  Then she bolted for the stairwell at the end of the hall.  Charlotte hadn’t heard the footsteps, but she had felt the eyes.

‘Don’t look back.’  She heard her brother in her head yelling at her.  The self-defense pointers he had given her starting to play in her mind. 

‘Focus on what is in front of you.  Will yourself to that place.’  She flew through the doorway to the stairwell. 

‘If you get a chance, hide, don’t try and outrun them.’

She turned the stairwell, and went up instead of down.  The stairwell was a myriad of walled half flights, carpeted, and quiet.  She crouched on the other side of the wall facing the steps leading to the next level hoping her pursuer didn’t realize that she was there.  Charlotte pressed her back to the wall of the stairwell flattening her palms near her hips.  She balanced on the balls of her feet ready to spring because of the low heels on her black boots.  Her breath was coming out loudly almost panting. The air-conditioned area was musty like carpet that had been left wet.  There was a single oval recessed light on each landing right above the open space before you stepped through the door.

The creaking of the door on the landing beneath her as it flew open made her stop breathing.  Charlotte swallowed her gasp. Her heart was beating so loudly it could probably be heard from the street. She flexed her hands against the wall willing herself not to move. Even as the slight sound of padded footsteps receding reached her she waited before she let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Be patient. Don’t make a mistake now. You’re almost there.’

Charlotte slowly moved away from the wall, and made her way back down to the landing she had come from.  She walked slowly, fearful that her pursuer would get wise, and come bolting back up the stairs at any moment. When she reached the hallway she stood nervously in front of the elevator knowing that she couldn’t go down it alone.  She paced a few moments as a crowd of young adults made their way to the elevator.  A few of the ladies had hair like hers.

‘Don’t shy away from people.  Other people are your best cover if someone is looking for you to be alone.’

She boarded the elevator with them.  They reached the garage under the building where she had parked her F-150.  Because of her brother’s diligent teachings, she always parked very close to elevators, and always under highly lit areas.  Charlotte streaked for her F-150, and got in locking the doors, and starting the truck in the same motion.  The creepy feeling returned, and for a split second she stared into the black eyes of a tall stocky man with a greasy look and feel to him.  His face snarled as she hit reverse, shifted to drive, and burned rubber pealing out of the parking lot.

It had all happened so quickly.  She had come home locked all her doors, closed all her blinds, and battled herself into not calling the police.  What would she say?  I think this guy was following me.  Oh yeah because my best friend and me have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble with a local oil baron.  And did I mention the CIA agent that kidnapped her off to Japan.

She had finally convinced herself that she would’ve sounded nuts.  At that time she most likely would have.  After all who was to say the guy didn’t need change or something.  Maybe he was a bill collector she had missed and was trying to find Sandra.  Charlotte had spent the night concocting an array of amusing, interesting antidotes that would explain what had happened at Sandra’s apartment.  Then it had happened again.

An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords