Word of Honor, Book 2
WORD OF HONOR
Written by Tiana Laveen
Edited by Natalie G. Owens
Book Cover: Travis Pennington
Copyright © 2015 by Tiana Laveen
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
The Literary Lion’s Den, LLC
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
IN OTHER WORDS: If you steal this author’s work and illegally share it, you are no better than a thief that breaks into someone’s house while you think they are away. You are a criminal. You don’t work for free, so why should writers? IF YOU STEAL, ILLEGALLY SHARE, UPLOAD OR PIRATE OUR LITERARY WORK, YOU SUCK. PERIOD. POINT BLANK. Thank you and goodnight.
IMPORTANT NOTICE:
PLEASE NOTE: This book is the SECOND BOOK of a two-part series. (There are two books in this series.)
1. The ‘N’ Word
2. Word of Honor
The book had to be divided due to a high page count. However, the SECOND BOOK, ‘Word of Honor’, is being simultaneously released with ‘The ‘N’ Word’. Therefore, there is no wait time for the reader and no lingering cliffhanger. Thank you.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Demita Usher.
One of her favorite quotes was, “Do Not Go Where The Path May Lead. Go Instead Where There Is No Path And Leave A Trail…” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
…And this is exactly how she lived her life. Demita, AKA ‘Brown Betty’, spoke her mind. She was talented, opinionated, humorous, and had the inner strength to push herself forward, even during times of adversity. She was a talented author, and an avid reader of mine, but she passed away suddenly, leaving many of us reeling and saddened. I dedicate this book to Demita because she supported my writing, encouraged me with funny ‘writer-isms’, and let the world know that she loved my stories. I will miss you so much.
I know you are still writing lovely stories and making clothes for your fellow angels…
Until we meet again, sister.
Love always,
Tiana
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Important Information for the Reader
Synopsis
Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Music Directory
Book Club Questions
A ‘Thank You’ to the Readers
Author Biography
Important Information for the Reader
A short version (a novella) of this story was written and published in the Cross Climax series, written by Tiana Laveen in 2009 and published in 2010. That story appeared in, ‘Cross Climax II’, entitled, ‘The ‘N’ Word’. If you purchased that book and read that particular story, please note that though the premise is the same, this full-length novel tackles the subject in a much more in depth manner and there are MANY changes that essentially make this far more than a revamp of the original story. This book is significantly longer due to there being extensive character development, changes in many of the original details, background information, flushed out scenes, many added scenes, etc. Therefore, it will be a different experience from beginning to end.
Synopsis
They say there are two sides to a story. And two sides to every man… Aaron Pike is one of those men. Aaron is a white nationalist, a Commander in the organization and Nazi who grew up in Frisco City and Gordon, Alabama. He considers himself an activist and purist for the white race in America and offers no pretenses or excuses for his controversial views, affiliations, machinations, and sometimes violent behavior. Despite the common theory or belief that the majority of white supremacists are void of any aptitude and acumen, Aaron is not only intelligent, but also sometimes charming, witty, and funny. He has the power to disturb and fluster with merely a look. Much to no one’s surprise, including his own, he ends up in the prison system, serving a stint for beating a man nearly to death in what is perceived as a racially driven assault.
While serving his term, the recidivist Aaron believes as he’s always done that he will serve his time and be right back out on the front lines of the movement. However, fate ushers him down a different path altogether…
A new prison psychiatrist is assigned to Holman Correctional Facility, and Mr. Pike is forced to delve deep and discuss in detail situations regarding not only his tumultuous past, but his not so clear future. …And the future holds a strong desire to meet a woman he is not only compatible with but one he is determined to make his wife…
Mia Armstrong is an elementary schoolteacher from a conservative, Christian background. She also volunteers at the prison, and is asked to help spread the word about a prison pen pal program. In that process, she runs into Aaron, and before long, the two hit it off. Only there is one problem… Mia Armstrong is African American. The two forge an alliance and that friendship flourishes into pure, unadulterated love.
How will Aaron deal with the truth of his feelings? Can he force himself to hate a woman he adores and loves based on her race alone? Will Mia be able to stay by his side after discovering the darker edge of the man she’s fallen helplessly in love with? Will she be able to offer forgiveness and redemption or will she turn her back on a lost soul who is used to not giving love, or receiving it? Step inside of this explosive novel, ‘The ‘N’ Word’, to find out how this story of unlikely love unfolds.
Warning
Please be advised that this novel delves into topics of an adult nature.
Though this is a love story in every sense of the word, this book covers a gamut of topics that some readers may find objectionable.
These include but are not limited to:
1. Race, racism, hate groups/supremacy beliefs
2. Abuse – emotional and mental. Neglect. Domestic physical violence.
3. Addiction – Gambling addiction, excessive drinking and drug usage
4. Realistic language, which means there are gratuitous profanity in dialogue, bigoted mantras, xenophobia, and racial slurs.
5. Graphic /sensual lovemaking scenes
6. Explicit violence
7. Descriptions of states of economic deprivation
8. Mental illness and personality disorders
If ANY of these topics are one(s) that you wish to avoid at this current time, please be advised. Thank you.
Chapter One
THE SKY WAS deep russ
et orange, the kind Indian summer knitted into a dress and worn for one day to her celestial and split-second seasonal ball. Dark, smoky silhouettes of lazily waving trees almost gave the open field filled with wild, long swards a tropical feel, as if a shred of Paradise that began as a seed had burst from the zoysiagrass.
Marcus slowly slid back inside his white Cadillac as he waited for Go-Go to finish taking a piss by the skinny, winding creek filled with cracked sticks, stones, and shiny black frogs that hopped and croaked about. Go-Go was ruining the day with his lightweight bladder due to drinking since three that afternoon, and dusk had just arrived to the preemptive shindig.
“Gaaaaaaad daaaaaaamn!” Go-Go laughed in the distance, apparently entertained by his bodily functions. Marcus’ long time friend wasn’t no big time boozer, but for whatever reason, he chose that day to test his inebriation endurance, to see how far he could push it, go the drunken distance. He wasn’t the only one…
Earlier in the day, Marcus pushed the envelope too as he filled out countless online applications, made several phone calls that ended up nowhere, and emailed a copy of his resume to over twenty companies during the week in hopes of a prayer being answered, perhaps two. He’d look down at his cell phone every now and again, waiting for a call back regarding an offer for an interview, but that never materialized. He was disappointed he hadn’t even gotten a nibble.
Already, as days had turned into weeks, he’d set his goals lower, much lower. He didn’t care if the job offer was for something down and dirty, completely hands on, workin’ in the heat until his entire body was covered in heat rashes. He wanted just a chance; almost anything would do as long as it was legit and gave a consistent paycheck, a bit of something to help out, make some ends meet.
If overtime was offered, that would be a welcome perk. Money was gettin’ slim to none like the shit was on a fad diet, though friends and family were helping when and where they could. His wife was working double shifts at the hospital as a nurse’s aide and she’d drag herself back in the house at two in the morning, barely able to stand on her own two feet. He didn’t like seeing her down and out like that; that was not what he aimed for.
The woman was young, but silver strands had begun to take over her curly twists like straggly weeds in a forest full of life. He’d assured himself he was the cause of her garden turning gray. Before he’d gone to prison, she was sassy and fierce, and they’d worked as a team to maintain their household and live decently. After he returned home, he’d see darkened bags under her once vibrant eyes. Someone had turned off the light in those beautiful brown pools…and that someone he knew all too well.
As the weeks passed, she’d started to disrespect him with harsh tones and cutting words. She’d left bruises and open wounds with her cutting blasphemies, the kind women hurl at their men when their heart is all twisted and tangled up, damn near broken.
He’d made a mistake… How long would he have to pay?
He soon realized she’d never cheated on him, either. It was pure paranoia on his part, birthed by guilt. Regardless, his wife had changed. Gina had never spoke that way to him before… She’d hardened, changed; she’d turned her back on him though she wouldn’t admit it… and yet, another part of him was certain it was all in his damn head once again. Perhaps he was being temperamental and crazy? Maybe he was just feeling a little apprehensive—wounded pride and all?
Who knew what was true anymore, for the chapters of his life blended into one big hunk of madness glued together and bound with the tape of misfortune. He couldn’t decipher where one life sentence started and another ended. Some of the sections were filled with crushed dreams created from a foolish mistake and others with tall tales or outright lies he told himself just so he could go to sleep at night. One thing he was certain of, though, was that he had to get some cash flowing in his damn household and he had to do it A.S.A.P. He gripped the spongy steering wheel wrapped in burgundy faux leather as his worries caused him mental harm and emotional strain.
“Come on, man!” Marcus screamed out the window. “Go-Go, shit! We been waitin’ forever, been here all damn day it seems. How long it take to take a piss?!”
“Maaaan, I got stage fright for a second… hold on. Was a snake out here, man… She was lookin’ at my shit like she wanted to fuck it, like it was a kindred spirit!” The man cackled. “She was tryna hook up on snakesbook.com. Like Facebook, only fuh serpents! Wanted some of dis big, black python I’m slangin’!”
“You ain’t funny, man. You could’ve gone fishin’, fried it up, and shitted it out by now!” He looked over his shoulder and took notice of their other friend, Corey, slumped down low in the back seat with a joint dangling between his fingers and the whites of his eyes practically the color of fresh bing cherries.
He high as hell…
“I’m hurryin’, shit!” Go-Go uttered in obvious annoyance at being disturbed. “You act like you got some place to go… Where you gotta go, huh? Nowhere, that’s where. We all goin’ to the same place anyway. Relax.”
“It doesn’t matter, you know I don’t like bein’ out here. I ain’t want to go to this party in the first damn place. You talked me into this shit.” He strained a bit in his seat, wanted the man to hear him as he screamed out the open window.
“Like you got somethin’ better to do!” Corey chimed in, too, as if his opinion was asked for, cared about, or warranted.
“This private property… Somebody might come out here shootin’ ’nd shit. Y’all don’t think shit through, always just doin’ stuff and not thinking about what could happen.”
“Marcus, if everyone was like you, we’d never get anything done and be sittin’ around shakin’ in our boots all the damn time,” Corey mocked.
He chose to ignore the man, stick to the true topic at hand.
“Come on, time is tickin’,” Marcus stated around a stifled breath.
“My dick is private property and you ain’t gotta job, you ain’t got shit… Broke ass nigga!” Go-Go joked.
Corey burst out laughing as the fucker shook his penis, stuffed it unceremoniously inside his pants, and made his way back over to the car.
“Shut up, Corey,” he shot the bastard in the back a death glare, sick of his sideway comments as he funked his car up with all that weed smoke. “Yeah, you think that’s funny, Go-Go?” The guy slid on the passenger’s seat with a sly grin on his face and tugged on the seatbelt, getting the slack just right. “You think I like havin’ this situation?” Marcus asked angrily.
“You ain’t got to struggle, man.” The seatbelt clicked.
…Safety first.
“Get on my payroll, man. I already told you what’s up.” The guy winked as if he was the walking embodiment of the golden keys of success… a sure mothafuckin’ bet, a wonderful opportunity slipping away within a blink of a glassy, reddened eye.
Yeah, and end up with another stint in the pen like yo’ ass… Go-Go’s rap sheet longer than an NBA basketball court…
“I ain’t gone hustle out here like you, Go-Go.” He held his head up higher. “That’s not what I’m about… sellin’ drugs ’nd shit…killin’ our people.”
“Here come our very own Muslim, Marcus Shabazz, Malcolm X, Rainbow Coalition, Jehovah’s Witness wannabe ghetto professor on that bullshit!” Corey cackled from the backseat. “We got Farrakhan Ali Jackson Abdul Martin Luther King Sharpton tha mothafuckin’ third up in dis bitch!”
“Corey, shut the fuck up a minute and listen. You might learn somethin’!” He turned faster than that pea soup spitting chick from the Exorcist and glared at the instigating bastard. “I’m gettin’ my shit the honest way…a pay check. Hell, I’mma go back to school, too. I got plans, lots of plans, just got to get a little money first is all to help with the pinch.”
He turned the car on and made his way down the pebbly path, growing impatient and debating on turning that car around and taking his ass back home.
“The honest way?” Go-Go veered back as if he were
sitting next to a damn beach-ball-sized tarantula with spit made of hot acid dripping from its uneven, jagged fangs. “Mothafucka, you can kill all dat shit.” He rolled his dark, slanted eyes and got positioned just so in the car once again. “The world ain’t honest. The world crooked as Corey’s front tooth.”
“Yo man, fuck you!” Corey called out sleepily. Go-Go kept on, ignoring the background singer’s protests to his insults.
“You was on the straight and narrow since the day you were born and yo’ ass still ended up in prison! You tried to do a bit mo’e for your family, and ended up gettin’ a sentence. The world ain’t fair, Marcus, ’specially for us! It ain’t never been fair and ain’t never gon’ be fair. This world ain’t fixed up for a black man to make it, Marcus. You livin’ in la-la land. You sittin’ here actin’ better than everybody else, and they put yo’ black, non-offendin’ ass in a jumpsuit behind bars on your first damn offense. If a white boy hadduh done that shit, he would’ve got community service at the most. Ain’t no love for you out here! You better get in where you fuckin’ fit in!”
“This ain’t no black and white issue, Go-Go! This is about doin’ what’s right, and bein’ an example for my daughter… a good example. I done already messed up, I gotta show ’er that we can fall down but get back up again.”
“I got kids too, you know that! Three of ’em.” He placed up three fingers in the air. “They don’t eat from good intentions and best wishes and all that other fairytale, livin’ on a prayer type shit. If I waited on the white man to give me a job, I’d be in a casket or a skeleton sittin’ at his table wit’ my hand out. My kids can’t wait for that shit. I ain’t tap dancin’ for no damn body. I ain’t nobody’s coon! My kids see that in me, and I feed ’em! They only eat from this!” He pulled out a thick wad of cash from his pocket and flashed it around before re-depositing it on his hip. “If I’mma go out, may as well be with my pockets padded, man. Ain’t that right, Corey?”
“Yup, that’s right!” Corey cackled from the back like some deranged hyena, tossing aside the insult laid at his feet just seconds previously.