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To celebrate the release of my latest urban science fiction novel, Redeemer, I will share an episodic short story based on the book for the next three posts. Don’t worry, there aren’t any spoilers –the story is an alternate timeline, told from the point of view of our hero’s younger, wilder, vengeful self. So, grab a cup of chai tea, or your favorite brew, sit back and enjoy part one of Redeemer: Glitch! REDEEMER: Glitch Part 1 Glitch: A minor malfunction, mishap, or technical problem; a snag The din of raucous laughter echoed throughout the private dining room of Sayles’ Lobster Bar. “Sweet” Danny Sweet had just told one of his anecdotes, which were always entertaining and, usually, quite funny. Sweet’s charisma and “favorite uncle” demeanor was in stark contrast to his brutality; his ruthlessness. Those same qualities made him one of the most powerful record industry moguls in the world and the most powerful criminal in the Southeastern United States. Z loved Sweet. When his father was brutally murdered, it was Sweet who stepped in to give him and his mother support; it was Sweet who found the man responsible for his father’s death; and it was Sweet who gave him the opportunity – and the will – to kill that man. Next to Sweet sat the giant, “Nigerian Norm” – the man responsible for Sweet’s safety and for Z’s training. Norm, too, was a man of contrasts – massively muscled; brutish; a master of murder, mayhem and pain. But he was also a graduate of the prestigious Oxford Law school, well-traveled, fluent in five languages and one of the most formidable attorneys on the planet. Norm was Z’s instructor in the ways of death and, in that role, as all the others he played, he had done exceptionally well. At fifteen years of age, Z was already an experienced and respected assassin-for-hire and was determined to one day be the absolute best. Z thrust his fork into a mound of spaghetti gamberetto and then twirled it, wrapping the platinum utensil in a cocoon of pasta and shrimp. He shoved the pasta into his mouth, savoring the spicy-sweet flavor. The smell of stale cigarettes and coffee assaulted Z’s nostrils. “McGraw,” he whispered. Homicide Detective Terry McGraw sauntered into the dining room. His thick, brown fingers fumbled with the buttons of his tweed blazer as he approached the dining table. Behind him shuffled a stout, fireplug of a man, his plump belly jiggling with each step. “McGraw, what’s the good word?” Sweet inquired. “I’ve got good news, Sweet,” McGraw replied, reaching across the table to shake Sweet’s hand. “Good,” Sweet said. His eyes shifted to the clammy-skinned, beer-bellied man beside McGraw and then back to the detective. “Who’s the J? And why is he at my table?” “He witnessed the robbery-homicide at Frankie’s spot,” McGraw answered. “His name’s…” “Chuck Alexander Etheridge,” the fireplug of a man said, extending his plump fingers toward Sweet. “But, everyone calls me ‘Shakespeare’.” “Okay. Have a seat McGraw,” Sweet said, ignoring Shakespeare’s hand. “…Spear-Chucker.” The corners of Shakespeare’s mouth curled into a weak smile. “That’s Shake…” McGraw placed a hand on Shakespeare’s shoulder and shook his head. Shakespeare wisely shut his mouth and both men sat across from Sweet. “Hey, Norm,” McGraw said, nodding toward the giant. Hey, John Hop,” Norm said, leaning forward in his chair. “You had best brought some good Brad Pitt for this Buster Keaton.” McGraw shook his head. “Damn, I’ve known you for, what? Eleven…twelve years? And I still can’t understand a friggin’ word when you talk that Cockney shit.” “Well, if you cleaned the wax outta your sighs and had any eighteen in your loaf, understandin’ me would be lemon squeezy,” Norm said. “It’s British Ebonics,” Sweet snickered. “You catch on after a while.” Sweet turned his gaze toward Shakespeare. “So, what you got for me, Shake-n-Bake?” “It’s…ahem…well, I was at Frankie’s spot when it happened,” Shakespeare replied. “It must have been around eleven, because I arrived at my regularly appointed time of ten-fifteen and had already taken my nightly dosage of opiate.” “Opiate?” Sweet cut his eyes toward Detective McGraw. “H,” McGraw answered. “Oh,” Sweet said. “Go on, Salt-Shaker.” “He came out of the darkness,” Shakespeare said, with a sweep of his stubby arms. “Swift; silent…like Death, on gossamer wings.” TO READ PART 1 IN ITS ENTIRETY, PLEASE VISIT: http://chroniclesofh...eemer-glitch-1/

Excellent observations! It appears that Hollywood is producing Black women/White men relationships on television and in the movies far out of proportion with reality, and I don't think this is an accident. For a long time in America, conquering the Black woman mentally and gaining her "love" (as opposed to the outright rape and sexual exploitation of Black women that had been going on for centuries) has been considered the last frontier for White men. They got the White woman, the Asian woman (infact, the most common interracial relationships I see in America today are White men with Asian women, lol) and even the Latina woman to a certain extent....but the Black woman has been quite elusive. Perhaps this is an attempt to show her what she's been missing out on, lol. I'm not sure if anyone else has noticed that "news" organizations like like CNN and ABC have actually done entire shows asking Black women why they have remained so loyal to Black men and why don't they explore their options. I haven't seen shows like this targeted to any other racial group of women.

Troy Yes, most Africans I know tend to be very successful. They tend to be very family oriented which provides a decent and stable environment for children to excel in academically. I remember at the highschool I went to it was over 75% Black but there were only a few African (West African) students there and they were not only on the honor roll but were on debate teams and involved in just about every progressive program the school had to offer, lol. It's interesting to me how Africans and West Indians are constantly being left out when they want to talk about race and test scores in America. Most African students do just as well as Koreans, Indians, and other so-called "model minorities" that society likes to point to as examples of achievement. Speaking of diet and obesity, I really think that when Black people adopt a diet that is more native to us biologically (less animal fats and more fresh fruits and vegetables and fish) I think it helps us not only physically but intellectually.

WINTER HOLIDAY TIME/ A HEART THAT WAS LIKE FALLEN LEAVES UPON THE GROUND WITHERED..HAS NOW BECOME, LIKE NATURE AFTER WINTER SPRING WARM REJUVENATED.FROM A SUMMER ENCOUNTER, A NEW LOVE I WAS ABLE TO OBTAIN.. A SEEKER OF LOVE THAT ESCAPED THE LONLINEST CHAINS.DRINKING MOCHA COCOA, BY THE WINDOW WATCHING THE FALLING SNOW..IMAGINING ENBRACING EACH OTHER OUTSIDE BENEATH THE MOONLIGHT'S GLOW..SNOWFLAKES DRIFT, UPON THE WINTER BREEZE, INSIDE SO MUCH WARM WE CONTAIN..A SEEKER OF LOVE THAT ESCAPED THE LONLINEST CHAINS..OUTSIDE THE FALLING SNOW HAS THE STREETS GLISTENING..TO THE SWEET SOUNDS OF OLD SOUL MUSIC WE ARE LISTENING..SMILES WARM AND TENDER,REACHING A DESIRED LOVE REALM WE RETAIN..A SEEKER OF LOVE THAT ESCAPED THE LONLINEST CHAINS....MANY SOULFUL KISSES,EACH CARESSING FINGER TIP, SUCH A WARM DELIGHT..JOYFULLY SURRENDERING TO PASSION IN THE WINTER NIGHT..MOANS AND SIGHS, REACHING FOR EACH OTHER WE CANNOT REFRAIN...A SEEKER OF LOVE THAT ESCAPED THE LONLINEST CHAINS./THE GOLD,GREEN AND RED HOLIDAY CANDLES HAVE BURNED DOWN LOW..... WE JOYFULY EMBRACE EACH OTHER BENEATH THE MISTLE TOE....OUR LOVE DEEP PASSION RISING HIGHER LIKE THE FIREPLACE FIRE FLAMES..A SEEKER OF LOVE THAT ESCAPED THE LONLINEST CHAINS...//