Hey there!
Boy, has it been a crazy last week or so! If you didn’t know I’ve been towing a travel trailer around the country for the last 8 months with my two dogs. I had plans of visiting Lake Placid, but my truck’s transmission had other ideas. So, instead of hanging out on the lake I found myself haning out in a Super 8 Motel for a week while the truck was in the shop (it’s a far longer, more interesting story. Perhaps I’ll get into it at another time).
Anyway, I wanted to get into a little fun. I’m going to start something called Fiction Friday. I have a romance novel I had written for Harlequin a few years back. They decided to go a different direction, leaving me with 50,000 words of a romance story you’d read at the beach or in the tub.
So, instead of just letting it gather dust, I’ve decided to share it with you, in small nuggets, each Friday. I’ll have some other fun details regarding this book in the coming weeks, but for the time being, here’ the first part of Chapter 1 of, “The Forbidden Book Club”.
And, as always, I’m so grateful for you and the time you spend with what I have to say.
-Greyson
The Forbidden Book Club
Chapter: 1 Part: I
Erika Marie made her way through Savannah's Forsyth Park, doing her best not to bump into camera-wielding tourists. Her first time in the park since arriving earlier in the week. She would have loved to slow down her pace, take in the beautiful fountain. Admire the veils of Spanish moss gently swaying from the canopy of branches overhead. Sit on one of the countless benches and pretend to read her book while people watching over the well-worn pages. She wished she could do it all, but she was running late, and she hated to keep her appointments waiting.
Erika had just moved to the Southern gem of a city from Cleveland, the city she called home her entire life. When her marketing firm announced the merger with another company based out of Atlanta, she jumped at the opportunity to join the Savannah branch. A new experience. One she had been craving for, well, for as long as she could remember. From the day she accepted the new job to pulling up in front of her new apartment on Whitaker Street time seemed to run at double-speed. It was this whirlwind of activity that had distracted Erika, causing her to lose track of time. Now, she not only raced against the clock to make her appointment but through a fog of humidity she hadn't experienced before.
God, this humidity. I thought Cleveland was bad in the summer. But this is something totally different.
Reaching the midway point of the park, Erika passed a small white building to her right, an aged sign proclaiming it the "Fragrant Garden For The Blind." To her left, a noticeably newer building with an awning curving up to the sky like the sail of a great ship. When researching Savannah during the few months she had to prep, nearly every travel book, every tourist magazine, every website, featured Forsyth Park on the cover. The majestic white fountain greeted visitors in the center of a massive pedestrian walkway. Further down, a monument to fallen soldiers of the Civil War. And on the opposite end of the park, open fields large enough for rec. league soccer matches. Or in today's case, what appeared to be rugby. It was on this far end of the park she was to meet up with Pamela and her husband Charles at the small coffee shop across the street.
I should have drove. Why didn't I drive?
Because you don't know all the one-ways yet she told herself, answering her own question. The city seemed to sporadically skip from two-ways to one-way avenues on a whim. Erika had already seen a semi driving down the wrong way. Normally she didn't mind walking. When working in downtown Cleveland she walked everywhere. Whether gray sky with freezing rain or sunny days and a gentle breeze, she walked everywhere (although in northeast Ohio gray skies dominated most of the year). Despite the thick humidity she didn't mind the walk. It was her hair and her makeup she worried about. She'd like to at least look presentable for the first person she'd socialize with since arriving (outside of the landlord and moving truck driver, of course).
Erika huffed past a group of college-aged kids tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Lovers on a blanket under one of the shade-providing trees. Dogs chasing tails and twisting over one another while owners looked on. At the end of the park, she crossed the street, her half-heels clicking on the cobblestone brickwork. She slowed down just enough to make sure her heel didn't wedge in between the misshapen bricks. She'd seen enough heel snapping in movies to send shivers down her spine whenever crossing cracked pavement. The smooth cement on the opposite side of the street calmed her nerves as she approached her destination. Small tables hugged the curb of the quaint looking coffee shop, offsetting wide window pains looking out over the park.
How on earth can anyone sit outside in this heat and drink coffee?
A blast of cold air greeted her upon entering. She let it wash over her body like a cold shower as she absorbed the beautiful air conditioning. Looking over the few faces sitting inside the coffee shop she didn't see Pamela or her husband anywhere. Although truth be told she wasn't sure if she'd recognize either of them, even if they were standing right in front of her. She and Pamela were members of the same sorority back in college. They also had a few marketing classes together, although Pamela had managed to land herself on every single study abroad program the school offered for their major. Not that she necessarily deserved admission into the selective classes. Her parents just had the money to pull whatever strings necessary to get her in. Erika didn't have the same luxury afforded to her. She worked her butt off, working at the local bookstore while attending school. When Pamela partied the night away, Erika studied hers away. Erika's parents once told her she'd be better for all the hard work, although she had yet to see it. Pamela served as a lead partner in one of the biggest marketing firms in the Southeast. More doors her wealthy parents opened for her, no doubt. Deep down Erika knew she felt both jealousy and contempt toward her former sorority sister. The person born with a silver spoon that grew with time. So it came as a shocking surprise when Pamela responded to a Facebook post she put up asking if any of her friends lived in Savannah. Pamela said she'd love to meet up with Erika, catch up on old times, and show her the ropes. She wouldn't have been Erika's first choice, but she knew when you're new in a city you can't be picky. Especially when the person offering help comes from a family that could probably buy the entire state. Perhaps Pamela had changed.
Erika sifted through her purse and retrieved her phone. To her surprise, she had arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule.
"Excuse me," she asked the barista. "Which way to the restroom?"
The bearded man behind the counter pointed around the corner. Erika thanked him and ushered herself into the single-stall bathroom. Fearing the worst, she took in her reflection. Despite the humid slap in her face, she was pleased with her overall appearance. While her dark, chocolate colored hair sat a bit frizzier than she'd like, and her eyeliner had smudged a tad at the corners, all in all, it could have been a whole lot worse.
Thank god I invested in that sweat proof makeup.
She took a square of toilet paper and dabbed under her eyes, smoothing out her makeup, before digging through her purse, past a paperback book she'd forget to leave at home, and took out a small cosmetic case to touch up whatever she could. When satisfied, she took a step back from the mirror, smoothing out her dark green pencil skirt and admired herself. Her collard white blouse didn't show any signs of sweat, despite the tailored, form fit against her slender frame. Her pink bra didn't show through, which was also a relief. She hadn't unpacked all her clothes yet, and her allotment of clean undergarments was running dangerously low. She turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Nope, no sweat marks there either. And the dark green skirt perfectly contoured to the curves of her butt. Of course, not wearing any panties helped ensure that to be the case. Happy with her overall appearance, she slung her purse back over her shoulder and reached for the bathroom door, before lifting her arm, tilting her nose to her armpit, and inhaling deeply. She let the aroma linger in her nostrils as her sense of smell searched for the possibility of funk.
Yup, all good.
Back at the front counter, she scanned over the few customers, yet this time she didn't even see another woman. She checked her phone. No, no missed calls.
She wouldn't stand me up, would she? Oh god, is this even the right coffee shop? Maybe I'm on the wrong end of the park. This is the right park, isn't it? I should-
"Excuse me, ma'am," came a man's voice from over her shoulder. The voice of a Southern gentleman. Part country rock singer, part Sinatra. She turned to face a strong-jawed man with a day's worth of stubble standing just behind her. His short, sandy-brown hair tapered neatly to emphasize the angular dimensions of his face. "I do apologize. Erika, is it?"
She nodded. His blue eyes, catching the light like a warm Caribbean sea, caught her off guard and stole speech from the tip of her tongue. Her eyes couldn't help but run down his body. A button-down perfectly tailored to his muscular body. The top two buttons were undone, showing off just enough of the defined line running between his pectoral muscles. The opened shirt emphasized the powerful V-shape of his torso and wide shoulders. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just under his elbow. He likely would have rolled the sleeves up further, but the thickness of his arms prevented it.
"Hi, I'm Charles," he extended his hand. Erika blinked herself off the sandy beach in his eyes and back to reality. She took his hand.
"Yes," her throat croaked. She cleared it. "Yes, Charles. Sorry. This humidity has me a bit flustered."
Charles half smiled, squeezing a dimple tight on his left cheek. A flash of white teeth glistened through his suggestively mischievous smile. "No need to apologize. And despite what people say, the humidity, sadly, isn't something you ever truly get used to."
"Well, that's reassuring," she said sarcastically.
His half-cocked smile appeared again. She couldn't help but smile back.
"Have you ordered yet?"
She shook her head. "No, I just arrived."
"Well then, perfect timing." He waved down the bearded barista. "What would you like?" Charles asked Erika.
"A pumpkin spice latte," she said, looking for any sign of judgment from Charles. She saw none. "I know, I know. I'm basic."
"Not at all. In fact," he turned to the barista, "make that two pumpkin spice lattes." In his sophisticated, sultry twang, his words tickled the back of her head and danced in her ears.
The bearded man nodded and turned to prepare the drinks.
"If you'd like, why don't you find us a seat? I'll bring the drinks out when they're ready."
Erika nodded and turned to the open coffee shop. They really had their choice of tables. Something close to a fan, preferably. She needed to cool down. But not just from the humidity. Despite her back to him, all Erika she could see was that chiseled jawline, his blue eyes, and that dimple.
God, that dimple.
A chair squawked as she stumbled into it, wooden legs clawing at the concrete floor. It echoed through the entire shop. She fell hands first into the seat. Looking over the wooden back, Erika saw what few patrons were inside had shifted their attention to her.
"Are you alright?" Charles called out.
She wished she could throw her hair over her face like she would as a child and hide. But instead, she pushed herself upright and smiled back at him.
"Just testing out the chairs."
He laughed.
Her heart beat into her throat.
"Are they satisfactory?" he asked.
She nodded, swallowing down her embarrassment. "Yes, they seem sound."
What is with you! Get it together, Erika. And where is Pamela, anyway?
She sat down in the chair she had stumbled into, giving up her abbreviated search for a fan-facing seat. She felt the eyes of everyone still on her, yet when she looked around they all had returned to their own phones, conversations, and coffee.
…to be continued
Very well written and painted very vivid images of the scenery!
However, are a few spots that remind me that this was indeed written by a man and even the narrator himself doesn’t relate to the main character.
First, someone part of sorority wouldn’t address themselves as a“member”. Small, but enough to raise a question mark and take someone out of the story.
Also “sweat proof makeup” not necessarily a term women would use.
Lastly, the no pantries knowing that she was about to go on a long walk. Again one of those male fantasies that just doesn’t appeal to women. Mostly because hygiene.
Again very well written, however when writing from a woman’s point of view it wouldn’t hurt to get the perspective of a woman.