I’m up with a couple of posts about my upcoming stories as well as my last taboo release.
We’ve just completed the rough draft to I Love it Rough, the sequel to I Like Em’ Pretty. It wasn’t supposed to run so long but it did and instead of stopping the characters or what they wanted to do, we ran with it and about 60k later, we have quite a story. Of course, we have editing to do but for the most part, we think we’ve put together a very entertaining and gritty tale for many to enjoy.
I’ll share a little bit later. for now, here is a little from the first book of this eight book epic, N’awlins Exotica.
New Orleans, Louisiana 8:47 P.M.
“Damn!” Francois Choteau yelled at the top of his lungs. His favorite coffee cup—the one that read ‘My job is to find the killer’—slipped from his tight grip. It was his mother’s last gift to him before her passing. She always knew exactly what to get him for Christmas.
“Ah, Frankie, can’t you do anything without dropping stuff? Ya klutz!” Kenina Porter rushed to his side. She bumped him with her large frame as she attempted to assist him in the cleanup.
“Damn, woman, you’re dressing kind of sexy these days. Who you going after?” Frankie noticed the low-cut black blouse underneath the same color blazer showed ample pale cleavage.
“Someone who works here with me and claims to play for the other team.” Kenina wrinkled her lips. Her nasally New York accent came out whenever something angered her. “You’re lucky this didn’t break into a million pieces, Frankie. Your mama might’ve came out of the grave haunting your ass!”
Frankie grinned and tilted his head to the side. “You’re right about that, Kenie. My mama always gave me grief about having butta fingers. Wasn’t really my fault, though. It’s hot as hell in this mother! My hands feel like they been drenched in water!” Frankie wiped his brow and sighed. The air conditioner was running full blast, but it didn’t seem to do a thing about the summer heat in New Orleans. Temps in the low hundreds and high humidity made living in the Big Easy practically unbearable.
“Yeah, it is, but you still drinking hot coffee.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Not even iced, Frankie!” She dropped paper towels on the floor and smeared them over the spilled beverage. While toeing the rags with her heel, she handed Frankie his most prized possession.
Frankie set it inside his desk, out of harm’s way. “I got to, baby. It’s the only thing keeping me awake. We been working on this fucking Metairie murder case nonstop for over a month with no damn leads. Nobody’s talking so we can bring these fuckers to justice.”
“Nope.” Kenina nodded and knelt to pick up the trash from the floor. “Be more careful with your drink next time, man. Leslie just scrubbed these floors, and you know she’ll curse you out in her native tongue if she finds out you spilled something.”
“Yeah, I know.” Frankie rubbed the nape of his neck, attempting to get out the kinks. Homicide cases were piling up quicker than detectives could keep count, especially since the precinct was located in the middle of a crime hotbed. Due to the amount of work and the low pay, most detectives moved on to another line of investigation or left altogether, but not Frankie and his partner Kenina, who’d started at the police academy together. They’d been through thick and thin for the past ten years. Frankie considered the redheaded vixen to be his best friend, his girlfriend, and at times the momma he didn’t have. Kenina Porter showed more loyalty than any man he’d ever had and he’d always stick by her side.
“Well, yeah, you know, but…” She stood with her hands on her hips. “You still aren’t being all that careful.”
“I was, woman!” Frankie frowned in her direction and propped his feet up on the corner of his desk. “You right, you right, I’m a klutz but I’ll have you know, I’m tired as hell, ain’t fucked anyone in over three months and, on top of that, I’m not getting a lot of sleep!”
“Shhh!” Kenina glanced from left to right and scolded him for being so loud. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, Frankie! You wanna get found out? You can’t say shit without people calling you on it in this department.”
Frankie waved his hand. “I know, Kenie, I’m just…” Frankie leaned back and blew raspberries. His head slipped down from the top of the chair and tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m so tired of hiding, babe. It’s hard being…” Frankie mouthed gay. “And not able to tell the people you work with.”
“Well, you could, but it might be more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t mind keeping up the charade for you, love. You know you my boy and I’d do anything for you!” Kenina sat on the edge of the desk and stroked his shoulder.
“I appreciate that, Kenie, I really do. Too bad you ain’t got the right equipment, woman, because I’d date you for real!”
“Mhmm, I got it all here for you. You just got a thing for dick more than pussy. That’s on you, though. I ain’t mad at ya.”
Frankie dabbed the corners of his eyes with his shirt sleeve. His smile turned into a frown. “It ain’t a thing, girl. It’s my fucking life! You sound like them fucks in forensics, making fun of that cop who transferred here from San Fran last year. That boy didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell because they gave him so much grief!”
“Yep, and you noticed he went right back where he came from because they ragged on him so bad. Look, honey, I don’t mean anything by it, I just… well, damn, I don’t get it, that’s all, but to each his or her own. I don’t hold it against you, but when you make comments about my boobs—”
“I asked who you were dressing up for, that’s all. I wasn’t making any comments about your boobs. Not today, anyway. You got a nice rack, I’m only complimenting you. It doesn’t mean I wanna sleep with you. Besides, we’re like sister and brother, anyway.” Frankie shifted around and glanced at all the folders on his desk. Cold cases with no leads, lots of dead ends he couldn’t even begin to tie together; mostly gang crimes and random killings in the quarter. The same old, same old but they still needed solving.
“Uh huh…” Kenina slid off the desk top and backed away slowly in the other direction. “Brother and sister, my ass. You know I’d fuck the shit out of you and not worry about what happens next. You’re just my type, Frankie, always have been but…” Trying to tempt him, she gave her breasts a quick tug.
“But I don’t like girls, not sexually, anyhow. Never have, Kenie. I know someday you’ll find Mr. Right, some guy who’ll wanna be all you need. I just ain’t the one.” Frankie bit his lip and grabbed the first couple of folders on his desk. He needed something to distract him from this uncomfortable conversation that he seemed to have with Kenie at least once a damn month.
To turn his attention away from her, he gawked at the victim of a shooting in Kenner about four weeks ago. Another random act of violence for him and Kenina to solve but, again, no witnesses, no solid leads on the case they could use to bring in a suspect. At times, he wished he didn’t want to work in homicide but he loved the excitement it brought to his life.
Besides, it kept him from home, which at this point was the loneliest place on planet earth. Though the newly renovated house on the east end was his pride and joy, with no one there waiting on him, it didn’t hold the same appeal.