Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Love in the City...FINALLY

Love in the City...FINALLY!

It's been a long road but, the novel that I was supposed to release way back in the summer is finally finished and the autographed copies that were pre-ordered have been shipped out. I can honestly say that I feel a HUGE weight lifted from my shoulders. For those of you who keep up with my announcements, you may have realized that "Love in the City" was not originally a part of my plan for 2017. It was only after I started getting feedback and requests for MORE about the characters I introduced in "Death in the City" that I decided to write it. The truth is, "Love in the City" started out as a project to satisfy and thank my readers but, somewhere on the first pages of the book as I started to clearly see ALL of the storylines I planned to pen, I fell in love with the novel myself. I used the same anthology-type style so that both novels could feel even more connected and it worked out beautifully.

Of course, as the title suggests, the theme of "Love in the City" is LOVE but that emotion is a complicated thing and can take many forms. That is what I wanted to show as I bled ink onto the pages. There are different types of love that I believe we can all relate to. Right now, I'm waiting for more feedback as readers start to finish the book. (I wish MORE of you guys would post reviews online but, I'll address that in another blog post) So far, so good. I've heard that the book is sexy, inspiring and very engaging. It's always a beautiful thing when you create a real page-turner. Thanks for all of the support guys. Tell a friend to tell a friend because we love word-of-mouth recommendations around here. 

P.S., I have a big surprise coming at the beginning of January so stay tuned for that announcement. I'm going to be trying something new on another platform and I hope you guys sign up. 


Friday, November 3, 2017

Snowflakes - A Sample Chapter from "Love in the City" by Keith Kareem Williams

Hey guys. As promised, here is another chapter from "Love in the City." Enjoy. (Please pardon any typos. I still haven't finished all of my edits.)

Chapter 19
Snowflakes

S
unrise had chased away the nighttime darkness and for a time, the morning sky had been beautifully blue and crystal clear. The sun’s lips had planted it’s warm kiss on the cold winds but winter’s touch would not be denied. Grey clouds blanketed the heavens and gently dusted the city with white snowflakes. Before long, those flakes accumulated and the snow on the ground became quite deep. For people who were from warmer climates where it was never really cold, it was a magical thing to behold. For the people who lived in that city, it was magical too. Every year they witnessed four seasons, winter, spring, summer and fall but there was always something special about the times when snow fell from above. It was an inconvenience for sure when it became too deep for people to walk in and treacherous for folks to drive in but, it caused the city to actually seem quiet for a time. That itself was almost a miracle.
Persephone opened her eyes but to her surprise, she wasn’t in her bed. She was on her own back porch, wrapped tightly in two thick blankets with a knitted hat on her head. She had been stuck inside for so long that she almost forgot how fresh air felt against her face and she wondered if she was having a very vivid dream, or if maybe she had finally died. She wasn’t in pain so the latter might have been true bit if she were dead, she was certain that she wouldn’t have needed blankets or a warm hat to protect her from the cold. So, if she wasn’t a ghost yet, someone must have brought her outside because she definitely hadn’t walked out there on her own. She could barely make it to the bathroom right next to her bedroom without help. When she turned her head to her right, she saw whom, right next to her on another patio chair.
“I don’t remember walking out here,” Persephone said feebly and still sleepy. Her voice was rough and raspy.
“That’s because you didn’t,” Germaine answered. He leaned across to put his arm around her and kissed her affectionately on the cheek.
“You picked me up? And carried me all the way out here?” she asked her husband who did something every day that made her remember how amazing he was and also, how much it would hurt her to pass on to somewhere he couldn’t travel with her. “Damn…either you’ve been working out or I’m really getting frail,” she joked.
“I’ve been working out,” he said with a grin and they both laughed. “The weatherman said that this might be the last big snowfall this winter and I wanted you to see it.”
Germaine was close enough to Persephone that she was able to rest her head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her forehead when she did. Then he turned his face back towards the sky and the snowflakes that fluttered down from so very high up above. For a while, they sat together in silence and watched the snow fall. Being so close to each other, neither one of them felt cold.
“For most of my life, I thought my mom named me Persephone just because she maybe saw it written down somewhere and thought it was pretty. I was always the little black girl with the funny name. Do you know who Persephone was?” she asked her husband.
“No, tell me,” Germaine answered even though he knew Greek mythology just as well as she did. He just liked hearing her speak after he had spent so many nights fearfully watching her suffer in her sleep. There were too many days when she quietly endured all the pain her disease tormented her with.
“As the story goes, Persephone was kidnapped by the god of the underworld, Hades and tricked into being his wife,” she started to explain. “That’s how I feel now, like Death is coming to kidnap me and take me away from you,” she told him.
“Wherever you go, I’ll follow and find you,” Germaine told his wife. “I’ll kill Hades himself and take you away.”
“And I’ll wait for you to come get me,” she answered.
For a few minutes, they quietly watched the snow. Since they’d been together, they’d always had a gift for speaking to each other without words. They communicated on a different, higher frequency than most people and even though she was dying slowly, their bond was still strong. Persephone would often say that they were both twin flames and soulmates. Love like theirs was rare. Germaine broke the silence first after a random thought about something from his past popped into his head.
“When I was a kid, a little girl in my kindergarten class told me that her parents told her that whenever angels cried, it rained and that every drop that fell was really the angels’ tears,” he said and then sighed. “That always seemed like such a beautiful, poetic concept and I know that it’s a sweet way of looking at it but that idea always bothered me.”
“Why?” Persephone asked.
“What that meant always terrified me. The thought of what could possibly be so awful…so scary that it would make angels weep always worried me in an unhealthy way. I mean, what could possibly break the hearts of beings who went to war with the devil? I could never get that question out of my head. Ever since my classmate told me that, a weird sadness has always come over me whenever it rains…and it always made me a little afraid,” he confessed.
“You were a strange kid,” she joked and slapped his thigh as they cuddled.
“That’s true. I really was…but you want to know something?” he asked.
“What?” his wife asked.
“I finally understand what could be so terrible that even angels would cry about it,” he said and then looked at his wife with such deep, piercing sadness that she knew exactly what he meant without him having to say another word.
“Can you help me do something?” Persephone asked.
“Of course. Anything,” he answered.
“Help me up and walk me out into the yard,” she asked.
“But the snow…it’s really deep though,” he cautioned.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind. I just want to feel the snow falling down on me one last time,” she explained. “This is probably going to be my last winter.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know that,” he started to say.
“No doctor can tell you when you’re going to die. Doctors and so-called experts are wrong all the time. You don’t know that so you don’t say that,” he said.
“I want to be real with you baby…because I need you to be strong…and I need to know that you’ll be able to move on when I’m gone. I feel myself slipping away…so you have to promise me that you’ll live when I go. Promise me,” she pleaded but her husband gave her no reply because he refused to make a promise that he knew he couldn’t keep.
Germaine did as she asked and helped his wife to her feet. Together, they stepped out into the backyard from underneath the awning. Their feet sunk as least a foot into the deep snow but they ignored the cold. The wind wasn’t very strong so the large flakes floated down gracefully like tiny feathers. Like children, they both stuck out their tongues at the same time to catch the cold flakes on the tips of them. They admired the melancholy grey sky, speckled with tiny, icy white particles of white that took on their own unique, magical shapes as they fell from above.
“If raindrops are really the tears of angels, what do you think snowflakes are made of?” Germaine asked.
“I don’t know…but when I pass away and move on to my next adventure…I’ll be sure to find out,” she answered.
“When you do, I want you to show me every secret you’ve uncovered once I get there too…so wait for me…and I swear I’ll find you,” he told her, as he fought back tears.
“I will. I promise,” she said and hugged him just a little bit tighter, with all of the strength she could muster.


Copyright © 2017 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.









Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Miles High on a Red Eye (A sample Chapter from "Love in the City" by Keith Kareem Williams)

Happy Wednesday folks. Just as  I promised last night, I plan to start updating the blog more regularly. I'm going to be busy working on the final draft of "Love in the City" but, while I'm gone, here's a raw, unedited chapter from my next release. Enjoy...and don't forget to pre-order your copies. You'll find the link at the end of the post.

Chapter 31
Miles High on a Red-Eye

I
nconspicuously in business class instead of first class was how they traveled home. Alicia sat in the window seat and stared out at the gorgeous clouds that blanketed the night sky in fluffy white puffs. Right beside her, Crowe sat calmly with his eyes closed. She couldn’t understand how he could sleep as they jet through the air on man-made wings of steel held together with rivets, mathematics, physics and the faith of every passenger on board. Alicia had been unsettled since the plane had rumbled down the runway and then shakily climbed into the air. As terrifying as the take-off had been for her, she was even more worried about the inevitable descent. The vodka she had sipped during the flight hadn’t done a damn thing to calm her nerves either. She fidgeted and squirmed in her seat like a mischievous child at church.
“Are you asleep?” Alicia leaned over and whispered in Crowe’s ear.
“No,” he grumbled in a low growl. “I’m trying to but you keep asking if I’m asleep. Do you want me to stay awake with you? If you do, I will. Just ask.”
“No, it’s okay. You’ve been up for hours. It’s okay. Get some rest,” she told him and then went back to staring out of the round, airplane window.
Alicia considered closing the shade instead of looking outside at the endless sky but she realized that she preferred to see what was going on. The view was hauntingly beautiful, even if she couldn’t shake the feeling that people didn’t belong that high where most birds didn’t even dare to fly. All of her life, she had spent so much time trapped on the ground, surrounded by the worst kind of sin that it was unsettling for her to be so far up, so far removed from it all. Hopefully, in a few hours, the plane would touch down safely and she would be able to stroll through familiar streets with her feet planted firmly on the ground. It would be a much welcomed change from the weeks she had just spent riding the ocean waves as well. In the meantime, she needed a distraction to take her mind off of the possibility if plummeting to her death with all of the other passengers if something went catastrophically wrong during the flight.
“Are you asleep?” she whispered in Crowe’s ear, again.
“No,” he answered.
“I’m going to the restroom. Wait five minutes and then meet me in there,” Alicia told him as she squeezed his crotch as she got up out of her seat and stepped past him.
Crowe turned his head and watched the way her ass moved underneath her tight skirt as she gracefully strolled down the aisle on her way to the lavatory. He wasn’t sure what she was up to but, he had a good idea.


Five minutes felt like forever but Alicia eventually heard a gentle knock on the restroom door. Her heart quickened as she opened it just a little bit and peeked out. When she saw that it was Crowe, she roughly grabbed him by the collar of his button-up dress shirt and dragged him inside with her. Once he was all the way in, she slammed the door shut behind him. The space was so cramped that they stood practically chest to chest and could barely move.
“What’s going on?” Crowe whispered. He had passed a stewardess on his way and he wasn’t sure if she might have stood just outside to eavesdrop because she must have seen Alicia go in first.
“Nothing yet,” Alicia answered and then showed him the pair of white, lace panties that she had slipped out of while she had been waiting impatiently for him to get there.
“Don’t make too much noise,” he told her confidently, as if he knew that he would make her scream and moan.
Alicia giggled as she unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper and then pulled down his slacks.
“You’re the one who’s going to need to be quiet,” she said with a wicked, dangerous grin as she stuffed her panties in his mouth and then aggressively pulled down his boxer briefs. She smiled wide and licked her lips when she saw how stiff he was already.
With one leg up on the wall, Alicia took Crowe inside her. She was already wet and on fire so no foreplay was required. As sleepy as he had seemed back in his seat, the way he gave it to her didn’t feel like he was tired at all. In fact, he was wild and wide awake. It was also a good thing that she had used her underwear to gag him. Otherwise, every passenger, stewardess, the people all the way up in first class and maybe even the pilots might have heard him growl sexily like a savage. Alicia was keenly aware of the power she possessed and she didn’t hesitate to use it all on him. She gave her all to him. Her body trapped him so deeply that she could tell that he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. Miles high in the sky, they became as one as they made love. Crowe hugged her tightly and held her close as he went back and forth with slow, forceful strokes.
“I love you,” Alicia whispered in his ear and then kissed his neck.
Without warning, Crowe started to go harder and as they sex became more intense, it sounded as if they might tear down the whole restroom as their bodies banged against the flimsy walls that flexed as they pushed against them. Then, he let go. He let go of his fears, his concerns about how attached he was to her. Crowe released all of his love inside her and kept going until he was completely drained of everything. She took it all willingly when she felt him shudder as he came.


Shamelessly, Alicia and Crowe left the cramped lavatory together and walked back to their seats holding hands. They were certain that, as quiet as they had tried to be, most of the passengers knew exactly what they had been up to. A few frowned, some pretended not to see them and others blushed. An elderly woman who sat quietly knitting next to her elderly husband smiled and winked at Alicia as she and Crowe walked by. There was still a spark of youthful mischief in the white-haired woman’s eyes and Alicia could imagine that the little old lady might just have been quite the naughty sexpot back in the days when she had been young, before time crept up, stripped her of her libido and slowed her down.


A few hours later, the plane landed safely and the passengers clapped to thank the pilots for a smooth flight. After Crowe and Alicia made it through customs without incident, they stepped out of the airport and was kissed by the early morning sunshine. They knew they were home as they walked over to the long line of yellow cabs that their city was famous for who were waiting to pick up newly arrived passengers. Alicia happily inhaled the open air which was a familiar mixture of pollution, the stale, wet, swampy scent of the bodies of water near the airport and jet fuel.
“We’re home,” she said gleefully.
“Yes, we are,” Crowe answered, somewhat less enthusiastically as he helped the cab driver load their luggage into the trunk.
“Where to now?” Alicia asked.
“A nice hotel and a hot shower for now,” he answered.
“Well…hopefully, I won’t be tied to a chair this time,” she said as she reminisced about their first deadly, sexy time together.
“I promise not to tie you up,” he laughed.
“But what if I ask you to?” she flirted.
“You know I’ll do anything you want…just like I did the first time,” he reminded her.
They kissed like lovers who had been apart for months, as if they hadn’t just joined the Mile High Club on their flight and then hopped into the back of the taxi.


Haikeem, the cabbie had no idea that he was in for a bit of a show as he drove his fare to their hotel. He had to force himself to focus on the road after his female passenger unzipped her companion’s pants and put her head in the well-dressed man’s lap. When he did glance back in the rear-view mirror to see what was going on in his backseat, he met his male passenger’s burning eyes. There was something about the man that made him nervous and he immediately knew that it was probably wise to mind his own damn business so, that was exactly what he did.

Copyright © 2017 Keith Kareem Williams All rights reserved.


I hope you enjoyed this teaser from "Love in the City" You can use the link below to pre-order an autographed copy to make sure that you are one of the 1st people to get your hands on it once it drops.






Fate, Destiny & Thank You....

Now that I'm closer to finishing up "Love in the City," I promise to start updating the blog more regularly again. You can look forward to reading interviews, new material I'll freestyle some hot short stories specifically tailored for the blog and of course, samples from my books to keep you entertained. As always, thanks for reading and thanks for sticking around, even after I went ghost for a little bit. In the wee hours of the morning, while I was at my desk working, I recorded a little video. Here it is....





Saturday, October 21, 2017

A Room Full of Rogues - A scene from "Death in the City"

Hi guys. As I prepare to FINALLY release "Love in the City" in just a few days, I figured this would be a good time to bless you with some hot samples from "Death in the City." (Both books are connected but you'll have to read them both to see how.) This is one of my favorite scenes because of how sinister it becomes.

3 - A Room Full of Rogues

T
he back room of the Starlight Nightclub/Cabaret reeked of a mixture of the sweet fragrances that strippers scented their sultry bodies with, cigar smoke and sin. Two scantily-clad, curvy and voluptuous bottle service girls served liquor to the gamblers who were intensely engaged in six different illegal games of poker at six different tables. Five of the card games were being played by men who were just trying to win extra money to make ends meet. Most of those desperate souls were wagering what they really couldn’t afford to lose but, even if misfortune struck and they ended up losing everything except for the shirts on their backs, they still didn’t have very far to fall at all. None of them were strangers to struggle because they’d been toeing the line between poor and completely destitute their entire lives. Although almost all of them would most likely walk away losers at the end of the evening, the odds of them winning a few dollars in the smoke-filled room where the house was usually the cruel winner that took all was still much better than their chances of hitting the jackpots in any of the government-sanctioned lottery games. That was the plight of all the men who sat at all of the gambling tables in that back room except one, and at that one table, the stakes were very different. Sammie scratched his bug, bushy beard and rubbed the intricate, black and grey skull that was tattooed on the side of his bald head.
There was an unnatural bubble of silence that surrounded the sixth table that separated it from the muted murmur and hushed clamor all around it. At that table, which was positioned almost exactly in the center of the room, sat four of the most dangerous people in the entire city. No matter what gripes, grievances or conflicts might have been quietly taking place outside of their card game, everyone else in the room understood that those dangerous individuals were not to be disturbed and if anyone was foolish enough to break that unspoken rule, then that fool would face consequences of the most unpleasant kind.
The card game at that sixth, sacred table had been going on for hours and most of the poker chips ended up piled high in front of Enoch, the club’s owner. He was a heck of a poker player, as the amount of winnings he had amassed that evening confirmed and as he prepared to take a long pull from his cigar, he smiled. The other players at the very exclusive table, Alicia Rose, Sammie Gustavo (aka: Sammie Slim) and Mr. Crowe, all sensed something sinister behind his grin. They found his perfect rows of pearly-white teeth unsettling.
With frowns that openly expressed their frustration, both Sammie Slim and Mr. Crowe folded at the same time. They slammed their cards down on the green felt-covered table. One of the bottle service girls, the incredibly busty, brown-skinned blonde, attempted to pour more champagne into Mr. Crowe’s glass but he rudely snatched the entire bottle from her. He stuffed two $100 bills into the waist of her white, lace corset when he realized how badly he had startled her. As a man of few words, he silently apologized to her when he tipped his black fedora down over his dark eyes. The poor frightened thing scampered off to service another table as Mr. Crowe brought the champagne bottle to his lips. He gulped down the sparkling, bubbly liquor as if it was water while the obese heroin dealer oddly nicknamed “Slim” seated next to him cursed his own bad luck under his breath, in Spanish and in English.
Enoch used a fancy handkerchief to wipe a few drops of sweat from the top of his smooth, bald head. The air-conditioning kept the temperature of the room comfortable but the hot, overhead lamp that was suspended directly above the table threatened to tan his light-brown scalp to a darker shade.
Directly across from Enoch, the only woman at the table studied the five cards she held with her slender, graceful, manicured fingers. Just like everyone else at the table besides Enoch, Alicia had been losing money all evening but, the cards she now stared at made her smile. In fact, she was so confident about them that she winked at Enoch to let him know that she was convinced he stood no chance of beating her this time.
“Finally! About time something good happened,” Alicia chuckled as she pushed all of her remaining chips to the center of the card table and went all in.
“Really? How so?” Enoch asked, equally confident and doubtful that whatever cards she held could possibly beat his.
“I don’t think you can beat this hand, not this time,” Alicia told him smugly.
“I disagree. What I’m holding is going to be pretty damn hard to beat,” Enoch answered as he calmly flipped his cards over, one at a time, exposing three Kings and two 10’s. “THAT, pretty lady, is what is called a full house.”
“Well, that really is a nice hand,” Alicia chirped in a meek voice, pretending to be nervous and frightened by his cards. “But, this one is nicer,” she continued with confidence as she flipped over her cards, one at a time and revealed a 3 of spades followed by four Aces.
Alicia puckered her juicy red lips and blew Enoch a kiss. She leaned over the table to collect all of the chips Enoch and wagered and lost to her. She felt his eyes fall on her ample cleavage, exposed by her low cut evening dress.
“Lucky, lucky me,” she said as she greedily ran her fingers across all of the poker chips she had just added to her own.
“Yes pretty lady. Lucky you,” Enoch answered, still shocked that she had actually won and salty about the way she chose to gloat.
Under the card table, Enoch raised his foot and used his expensive designer shoe to roughly force Alicia’s thighs apart. Suddenly, the cards she had clenched between them fell to the ground. Sammie Slim immediately slid his chair back so he could get a better look under the table to see if what they had all heard was really the sound of playing cards flittering like heavy feathers to the floor. The ruthless, round-bellied drug dealer couldn’t believe that she would dare to cheat. While Alicia nervously eyed the other players at the table, Enoch casually reached for the gun he always kept stashed under the table and then pointed it at her head. Mr. Crowe continued to drink and pretended that he didn’t notice anything while Sammie Slim cursed under his breath in Spanish.
“Lucky you, hmm?” said Enoch to Alicia.
“Puta bitch! Take this dirty bird outside and shoot her! Shoot her now,” yelled Sammie Slim.
“Easy, easy. Take it easy fat man,” Enoch answered him calmly.
“Slim’s right you know. She knows the rules. She knew what would happen if she got caught,” Mr. Crowe said to Enoch in his low, rumbling, raspy voice. “This is a very dangerous place to be cheatin’ Mami. Taking the chance is risky but, gettin’ caught…well, that’s probably fatal,” Mr. Crowe said to Alicia then tipped his hat politely to her, the same way he had to the nervous bottle service girl he had frightened before.
“Alicia, Alicia, Alicia. I see that those thighs of yours are still deadly, and useful. Real sneaky the way you hid all of those cards between them,” said Enoch.
Before Alicia could answer, Sammie Slim grabbed a handful of her hair and violently yanked her head back.
“You…are going…to die…badly…and painfully you bitch!” Sammie Slim growled in her ear.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself? Any explanation for why you’d try something so dangerous? Or, maybe you might want to beg? Not that it would do you any good at this point but, you can try,” Enoch said to her.
“Fuck talkin’! No talkin’!” the fat man yelled out of frustration and impatience. “Take this piece of shit outside and shoot her!”
The other gamblers in the room at the other five tables didn’t know exactly what was going on at the sixth table but, with Enoch’s gun out and pointed at Alicia’s head, they knew enough. Slowly, quietly and in an orderly fashion, they all began to shuffle towards the exit before the shooting started. None of them wanted to get hit with any stray bullets and none of them had any desire to see what was surely coming next. Witnesses to such things tended to disappear, never to be seen again. Everyone knew that ghosts couldn’t testify in court.
Alicia winced in pain as Sammie Slim tightened his grip when he yanked on her head again but, under the card table, she slowly reached for the small caliber pistol that she had also kept hidden between her legs, safely secured in her black, lace garter.
“It would be a shame to have a bullet ruin that pretty face though,” said Mr. Crowe to Enoch.
“I think so too. What do you think Slim? Then again, forget it. We already know what you think. Fucking waste to me though,” said Enoch while shaking his head.
Alicia defiantly slapped away the fat man’s meaty hand and freed herself from his grip.
“I just got my hair done this morning you asshole,” she complained.
With lightning quickness one wouldn’t expect from a man so large, Sammie Slim brandished a butterfly knife seemingly out of thin air like a magician and stabbed it into the card table in front of Alicia. The tip of the blade impaled the Ace of Hearts which was part of Alicia’s winning hand. The 3 of Spades, the Ace of Diamonds, Ace of Clubs and finally, Ace of Spades all remain unscathed.
“I’m supposed to be scared, you fat fuck?” Alicia asked.
Sammie dragged the knife out of the card table and gently rest the blade against the soft skin on her throat, not hard enough to draw blood but with enough force to let her know how sharp it was. However, Alicia didn’t flinch or lose eye-contact with Enoch whose gun was still pointed at her head.
“No, we won’t be able to scare you. I can see in your eyes that even now, with this gun pointed at your head along with full knowledge of my reputation, you’re not afraid at all, are you?” Enoch asked Alicia.
“She should be,” Sammie Slim chimed in before Alicia could answer. “A bullet is too quick, too clean for you. You will scream. You will bleed. And then you will scream some more before you die you bitch. I promise you that. Fuckin’ puta,” he growled at her.
“I bet you’d love that huh?” Alicia asked Sammie Slim sarcastically.
“Yes, yes I would,” he answered.
“I bet the thought of that turns you on. I bet you rather see me get tortured than fuck me. I bet hearing me scream and beg would make your little dick hard wouldn’t it?” she continued to taunt Sammie Slim.
“Yes it would…and by the way, it’s not small baby,” he answered.
“Too bad. I’ve heard you only feed it to men though. Everybody knows how much you hate women. I wonder why? Awww, did some spicy little fox break the fat man’s heart once upon a time? No, that’s not it. That’s too simple. It had to be something much deeper than that. Oh, wait…did Sammie’s daddy touch him when he was a little boy? Maybe he did and you found out you really liked it,” Alicia continued to wickedly taught Sammie Slim. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’re a fag?” she asked and braced herself for what was sure to happen next. She didn’t have to wait long.
Sammie Slim’s closed fist hit Alicia in the mouth like a brick and split her lip. With a mouth full of blood, she laughed hysterically because of how easily she had found what seemed to be a chink in the ruthless man’s armor.
What had Alicia had said and the things she had wrongly implied about Sammie’s father compelled him to share a story that very few people had ever heard. It was a strange and intimate thing to open up about but, he figured that she wasn’t going to live long enough to wag her tongue about it outside of their little circle.
“My father was a good man…a hard-working man. He was a plumber by trade and spent most of his days elbow deep in other people’s shit. He did that so he could take care of us, my mother and me. My mother was beautiful…even more beautiful than you, you slut,” Sammie Slim told Alicia and as he tried to stick his finger in her mouth, she snapped her teeth, nearly biting him but he pulled back just in time. “Every man in our neighborhood wanted my mother, and she loved the attention. I know that my father hated the way she dressed…the short skirts that showed off her long legs…the low-cut blouses that showed too much of her breasts but, my father loved her so he pretended not to see. In certain ways, he knew that she needed to be free. He used to always say that birds don’t belong in cages, whatever the fuck that means.”
“Your father was wiser than most men if he understood that,” Alicia interrupted him but Sammie Slim ignored her comment and continued with his story.
“One afternoon, my mother asked the superintendent of our building to come over and fix a leak somewhere in our apartment which didn’t make sense to me because, even though I couldn’t have been more than five years old, I knew that my father could have fixed anything in our place that was broken. He always did.
My mother ended up in the bedroom with the scumbag super while I sat on the floor in front of the locked bedroom door. I’ll never forget my father’s face, the shame I saw in his eyes when he came home early and heard what I had been listening to for over an hour. He picked me up in his arms and opened the bedroom door. He dropped me and vomited all over the floor when he saw my mother bent over in their bed taking 13 inches of dick and loving it. Do you know what 13 inches of meat looks like?” Sammie asked Alicia.
“I do actually. A little bit much for me but I guess your mom was what we call a size queen,” Alicia answered, trying half-heartedly not to laugh in Sammie’s face. “I’m guessing your daddy wasn’t packing anything even close to that…and they say dick size is hereditary so, I’m guessing you aren’t either,” she said, this time laughing as she did.
Sammie Slim punched her again, this time in the side of her head so hard that she saw stars and nearly blacked out.
“Your mother was a slut and your dad didn’t have enough dick to please her so you grew up to hate women. We get it,” Alicia groaned as she continued to taunt him fearlessly.
Sammie Slim raised his fist to strike her again but Enoch nodded and stopped him.
“I suggest you stop antagonizing him,” Enoch warned her.
“I’m not afraid of this pig,” she answered defiantly with the small caliber pistol still secured firmly in her grip under the table. Only Enoch’s large caliber gun pointed at her head kept her from using it.
“Oh, I know you’re not scared of him. Don’t forget that I know who you are, Alicia Rose,” Enoch reminded her. “Runaway wild child who killed her first pimp at fifteen. Rumor has it that you killed three more after that. Then, as soon as you turned eighteen you came to work for me here at the club and we made a lot of money together. You hustled the most dangerous hustlers…the ones that all of the other girls were afraid of. You remember how we used to set them up? Rob them? Even had to kill a few. Yes, we made a lot of money together. There is real power in your pussy. I’ll give you that. I know you Alicia, but I never thought you’d try to hustle me, especially not at something as petty as a card game.”
“Petty? There’s a lot of money at this table,” she answered.
“This?” Enoch laughed as he waved his hand over the chips that were still stacked in front of him. “This is small money compared to what you’re used to now. It might’ve been a lot to you back when you were serving drinks here for me but I know that you’ve graduated to blackmailing athletes and celebrities, caught on tape doing the dirtiest, most degenerate deeds imaginable. That’s where the real money’s at. It’s more profitable and much safer than trying to rip off a bunch of ruthless criminals. I’ve heard you have a team of hoes and sneaky set-up bitches working ‘round the clock for you. Let me ask you, is it true that you’ve even got a few politicians in your sticky, scummy pockets now that can’t let their wives or the voters know what they REALLY like, or how they like it?” Enoch asked, sounding as if he truly, genuinely respected her hustle.
“All rumors,” she answered and frowned at Enoch in disgust because she knew exactly why he had brought up the shady past when she used to work for him. They had done a lot of dirt together and she was sure that he wanted to remind her what HE was also capable of.
“Rumors huh?” he chuckled. “You’re like a deadly, sexually-transmitted disease. Most men that come in contact with you end up dead,” said Enoch.
“The ones who aren’t breathing are the ones who didn’t deserve to live anyway,” Alicia answered.
“Well, what I’m trying to figure out is how we got here. You and I parted ways on good terms, or at least that’s what I thought. So, why are you here trying to rip me off for this little bit of change?” Enoch asked, genuinely curious.
“Big, BIG balls on this bitch,” Sammie Slim chimed in.
“You’re gonna want to borrow somebody else’s after I blow off the tiny ones you got between your greasy legs you fat fuck!” Alicia threatened Sammie as she slammed her small pistol into his crotch underneath the card table.
Alicia smiled when Sammie yelped in pain. Enoch laughed out loud and Mr. Crowe continued to calmly drink his liquor as if he was oblivious to the deadly standoff.
“That’s for fucking up my hair,” she growled as she pressed the little pistol hard into his crotch and nearly crushed his testicles. “Put your gun down Enoch, or I swear I’ll turn this prick into a woman.”
“You know what would really be ironic?” Enoch started to ask but Alicia interrupted him.
“Yes, I’m holding the little pistol you sold me years ago,” she answered his question before he had a chance to ask it.
“And my handiwork comes back to haunt me of course. I forgot I even sold that to you until just now. Should have had them frisk you at the door. I must be getting sloppy, or senile, or both,” said Enoch while shaking his head.
“Must be,” Alicia answered dryly. “Now, put your gun down before I make a mess.”
“You must know that that move will not save your pretty ass,” Mr. Crowe told Alicia as he examined the bottom of the empty bottle of champagne in his hand.
“And I’m supposed to be terrified right?” Alicia asked, her question directed at all three of the dangerous men seated at the table. “What you all need to be asking yourselves is what kind of bitch would try to pull off some shit like this, knowing exactly who she was dealing with. How many men would have even had the guts to sit down and gamble with Sammie Gustavo Slim, the heroin king? What kind of crazy broad would be bold enough to walk into the same room with Mr. Crowe, the alcoholic contract killer who they say aims better when he’s drunk? I’ve heard that he’s probably killed more men than cancer.” Mr. Crowe grinned as she acknowledged his legendary reputation and he tipped his fedora to respectfully salute Alicia before she continued. “Who in their right mind would try to cheat you, Enoch, the club owner and arms dealer? I’ve heard that you’re impossible to catch or kill, or at least you have been so far. There are even people who think you just may be the devil himself. Anything that’s wicked or fucked up, you’ve got a finger in it, if not your whole goddamn hand. Everyone knows that once they owe you a debt, there’ll be hell to pay before the end. What kind of woman would risk her soul to try to get over on you?” Alicia asked her former boss.
“Ooohhh, you sound so scary when you talk like that,” Enoch mocked her. “You know who I am but here you are, underestimating me, as if every bit of my reputation wasn’t earned,” Enoch laughed. “I’ll tell you what kind of woman plays a game this dangerous…an overconfident, conceited one. One who has, for as long as she can remember, played dangerous games and walked away without many scratches. One who thinks she got into our little card game by showing off her tits and swinging her ass around. One who owes me a favor and is desperate to find a way out of settling her debt,” Enoch answered. “You know, Sammie and Crowe both asked me why I let you in the game. They hadn’t heard of you but like Santa, I know all of the naughty children. They’re my business…the sinners. I know who and what you are Alicia.”
“Really?” Alicia asked.
“I think so,” he answered before he blew her a kiss. “Now, let’s see if we can sort this out.”
“You mean, you want to know if we can resolve our issues before I blow Sammie’s balls off?” Alicia asked.
“Sammie’s balls? No, you need better bargaining chips than those,” Enoch laughed again. “If I spare your life, I’m going to need blackmailed favors from the friends you’ve made in high places. I don’t really give a shit about Sammie’s balls at all.”
“No? Well, if I had to guess, I’d say you WOULD care a great deal about that twisted mind inside your skull, right? I’d even go so far as to bet that you wouldn’t want to have your brains splattered all over my cleavage,” Alicia threatened Enoch with a confident smile as she ran her fingers suggestively between her large, D-cup breasts.
“And you would manage that how?” Enoch asked.
Suddenly, the brown skinned, blonde bottle service girl that Mr. Crowe had frightened earlier pressed a chrome pistol to the back of Enoch’s head.
“Ahh, the plot thickens,” said Enoch, sincerely surprised to find himself in such a dangerous predicament. “You play dirty,” he said to Alicia.
“Learned from the best,” she answered.
“Wow…what a room full of detestable villains we are,” Mr. Crowe said as he leaned slightly in his chair to get a better view of the armed bottle service girl’s big, flawless, round ass. “And I’ve been tipping her all night to see if I could maybe get to fuck her later. Damn. Tonight, it’s just tragedy after tragedy. Two beautiful women are going to be wasted because of their own treachery,” he said. “And what kind of fools are we to gamble with women like this?” Mr. Crowe asked while locking eyes with Alicia.
“I’m sure that it’s one of my guns pointed at the back of my head too, isn’t it?” Enoch asked.
“It sure is,” Alicia chuckled.
“You shouldn’t have gotten Steph involved in this. Well, there’s no turning back now,” Enoch said to Alicia. “You’re in deep now for sure pretty ladies,” he told both women.
“Alright…enough!” Mr. Crowe growled before he brandished two beautiful but deadly, .45 Magnum revolvers faster than lightning. One, he pointed at Alicia. The other he aimed at the bottle service girl with the big ass and shaky hands. “Enoch sold me THESE guns too,” he slurred.
“Now…THAT man is pissy drunk,” said Enoch, pointing out Mr. Crowe’s elevated level of intoxication. “I’ll bet he can’t even stand but could probably clip a butterfly in the wing from a hundred yards away and both of your faces are much closer than that. And I bet even Slim’s got a gun tucked away somewhere under that monstrous belly of his. I also bet Slim could still pull a trigger, even without his nuts. He’d probably be even meaner without ‘em,” Enoch joked while maintaining a serious expression on his face.
What followed was a long silence as everyone in the room weighed their options as they tried to guess how the standoff would end. People were definitely going to die and no one wanted to be one of the casualties. Before long, the unexpected sound of footsteps broke the silence as an old man, with old bones, in old boots made his way across the room towards the table.
“Ah, a new player approaches. My fellow black-hearted villains…a moment please. I believe that someone is here to see me,” said Enoch.
Rudy walked closer to the table cautiously, like a squirrel ready to run at the first threatening rapid movement. He swallowed hard before he took the last step that would put him close enough to Enoch to be heard.
“E…Enoch…Mr. Enoch…Mr. E,” Rudy stuttered nervously, not quite sure how to properly address the man respectfully without giving offense.
“What could you possibly want with me, Dad?” Enoch asked Rudy to the shock and surprise of everyone at the table. No one could have guessed that the vagabond, vagrant that had snuck his way into the back room of the club was Enoch’s father. “For YOUR problems, I believe you would be needing Sammie Slim or…maybe that degenerate Manuel, depending on what you prefer…the dope or the cain. I don’t know if you prefer the devil’s candy in your nose or in your veins.”
“I…I don’t do drugs. I never have, son,” Rudy answered, not sure if it was even safe to call Enoch son.
“Well, in that case, maybe you need something else…but I seriously doubt that Ms. Alicia would offer the likes of you any of her services, even though…the world IS full of surprises,” Enoch suggested.
“Fuck you!” Alicia cursed Enoch and raised her middle finger.
“No, you’re who I came lookin’ for. It’s you I came to talk to,” Rudy told Enoch.
“As you can see, I am currently involved in what could become a very painful situation for me so, get on with it, please,” Enoch urged his father.
“I got somethin’ I thought you might want to buy. I know you deal with these things,” Rudy tried to explain.
“Things? Be more specific,” Enoch told him while twirling his finger impatiently.
“I got a gun to sell,” Rudy told him.
“Are you fucking serious? Are you kidding me? A gun? Why would I want to buy a gun from the likes of you? Do you know I sell more guns than the CIA and the fucking fallen Soviet Union combined?” Enoch roared. He exaggerated of course but he did move a lot of guns through the city. “Get the fuck outta here before one of these bitches blows my fucking head off!”
Disappointed and dejected, Rudy turned around to walk away without protest. As he made his way to the exit, he took out the gun he had wanted to sell and when Enoch spotted it, it caught his attention.
“Wait a minute. Let me see that,” Enoch called out to his father.
Rudy slowly walked back over to his son’s side while carefully keeping out of anyone’s line of fire. He gently placed the gun in Enoch’s outstretched hand. Once Enoch had it in his grip, he examined it with the freakishly strange sensuality, almost as if he was studying the curves on a woman’s body.
“I know you,” Enoch whispered to the gun before he softly, creepily kissed the barrel. Then, he sniffed it as if it was a fragrant flower, or a pair of women’s underwear that had been worn. “I sold this gun to a drug dealer about a year ago. I wonder how you got this and what happened to him?” Enoch inquired.
“I found it…and I think he’s dead,” Rudy answered.
“Oh well, I did warn him to get out of that business before it was late. I saw in his eyes that his heart wasn’t in it anymore. In that game, when that happens, a man loses his edge and death, or the Feds, usually come knocking soon after,” said Enoch.
“So you want to buy it?” Rudy asked impatiently, anxious to get out of that back room as soon as possible.
“No,” Enoch answered and nonchalantly tossed the gun back to Rudy who bobbled it before he finally secured it in his shaky grip.
“But…I could really use the money,” Rudy pleaded with his ruthless son.
“Money? You need money? You’ve got a gun. Go rob somebody if you need money so bad. Now, get the fuck outta my place before you get me shot!” Enoch yelled at his father.
Rudy held his head down in shame as he made his way to the exit again. Just as he began open the door to leave, Enoch called out to him once more.
“Hey…before you go…I wonder if you would mind shooting someone for me before you leave…even though I didn’t buy the gun?” Enoch asked.
Rudy walked out without answering.
“Didn’t think so,” Enoch mumbled.
Copyright © 2016 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.

I hope you enjoyed the sample from "Death in the City." Use the link below to order an autographed copy directly from yours truly. 



Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Opening Scene from "Love in the City"

Hey...what's going on guys? I hope everyone is having a great week so far. I promised to start updating the blog more regularly again so here I am...updating the blog. Right now, finishing up "Love in the City" is eating up most of my time so I haven't been able to create any short stories to post here to entertain you guys but that doesn't mean I don't plan on sharing. Here's the raw, unedited opening scene from "Love in the City." Enjoy and feel free to leave comments or email me with your feedback.


Chapter 1
Stuck on Repeat


He looked up from the notebooks he had been scribbling in for most of the morning for a split second, just long enough to notice her as she strolled through the glass doors of the coffee shop, bringing with her the noise from the busy street outside momentarily. Against his will, he became stuck, the way he always became stuck whenever an interesting woman caught his attention. Max wasn’t a creep, and he rarely ogled women but there were rare, magical moments when he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of certain ones and the tall, well-dressed woman who had just walked in was exactly the type that he tended to stare at. The expression on her face was mean but Max guessed that the seriousness she wore like a mask was probably just a well-practiced defense mechanism to deter men from frivolously flirting with her which was completely understandable. The way her grey dress slacks hugged her hips and showed off her shape, she probably couldn’t walk ten feet without being approached by some guy who would’ve loved to get her out of all her clothes. Her skin was dark brown and as smooth as the hot chocolate he had been sipping as he attempted to get something significant written in his notebooks aside from the random ramblings that he kept writing over and over. He kept his eyes on the dark-skinned beauty until she sat down at the counter and crossed her legs as she waited for someone to take her order. He smiled a little as he admired her before he turned his attention back to his work. In his mind, he had no doubt that she was something special.

*** 
Ruthie Pantsy sighed and smiled as she inhaled deeply to take in the wonderful smell of the coffee shop. The exotic roasts and blends gave her life as she sat her weary body down and crossed her legs on a day when she would’ve preferred to stay home in bed. Unlike most people, she hated Fridays for a few very good reasons. As the owner of her own construction company, the weekends weren’t really weekends for her. She found that she was often out supervising her work crews, seven days a week. In fact, on most days she wore work boots, jeans, kept her hair tied up in a neat bun underneath a dusty bandanna and got her hands dirty right alongside the crude, sometimes crass, fellas that worked for her. Fridays were the only days when she dressed up because it was payday for her workers and she needed to remind them that she was the boss as she signed and handed out their paychecks.
She was a good boss, or at least she tried her best to be. Later on that morning, she planned to stop at one of the more generic, mainstream doughnut shops to buy pastries and coffee for her employees but for herself, she was in the mood for something more exotic, less franchised, more authentic and much more expensive. She deserved it after a long week of dealing with demanding clients and frustrated workers who had done their very best to help her meet those impossible demands.
That early in the morning, most of the people who came to get their coffee from that particular shop were stylish hipsters quickly placed the orders and were in and out. They were all busy people, always on the move and always on their way to do something important. Ruthie looked around the tiny coffee shop and noticed that the only person besides herself, who didn’t seem to be in an extreme hurry was the man sat at one of the three tables with his nose buried in the notebooks spread out in front of him. His fitted, faded, blue Yankees cap was pulled down low enough to almost completely conceal his eyes beneath the deep shadows cast by the crooked, bent brim. The scruffy beard that wildly covered his cheeks was bushy enough to hide some of his features but, Ruthie recognized him just the same. She had seen his face in black and white on the back covers of at least a dozen of her favorite novels. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt giddy, like a young groupie backstage at a concert who found herself within arms-reach of her favorite band. She had always promised herself that she would make it to one of his book signings but had never found the time. Ruthie almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming when she realized that she was in the same quaint coffee shop as her favorite author, Maxwell Michael Morgan.

*** 
Max heard when the chair on the opposite side of the table where he was working slid across the floor and tried to ignore the person would Ruthie sat down in it without an invitation until he heard her voice.
“Mr. Morgan,” a melodic feminine voice greeted him politely.
“No one calls me Mr. Morgan,” Max answered without looking up from his notebooks. He did not want to be distracted.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you but, I’m a huge fan of your books,” Ruthie continued.
“I figured that when you called me Mr. Morgan. Only my readers do that,” he answered and as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how asshole-ish he sounded, although that was not his intention. He was just frustrated that he couldn’t get any type of rhythm going with his writing and the woman who had invited herself to sit down at his table and engage in conversation was an unwelcome distraction. On the same, he always did his best to not be a complete jerk. His grandmother had always preached to treat others the way you would like to be treated and he lived by that, whenever possible. “I’m sorry. Good morning Miss. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he apologized. “It’s just that I’m trying to work. I’m stuck…and I’m not quite sure how to write my way out of it,” he tried to explain.
“Well what are you working on?” Ruthie asked as she boldly grabbed one of his notebooks to see what he had been feverishly scribbling down.
Max didn’t quite know what to say when she snatched his notebook away and he couldn’t find words when he looked up and saw that it was the same woman who had caught his attention before when she had strolled through the doors. That close to him, just on the opposite side of the small wooden table, Max got a good look at her light brown eyes, an usual feature for a woman of her complexion. The early morning sunlight that poured in from the front windows of the coffee shop highlighted them and made them even prettier. He stared without meaning to stare and got lost in her features. She had a broad nose that perfectly suited the shape of her face and her big, juicy lips looked soft enough to share many blissful kisses. Aside from a little eyeshadow, her skin was free of makeup but still glowed naturally and magically, no doubt the result of the God-given gift of extra melanin. As he studied her, Max suddenly felt very shallow. If a less attractive and much less alluring woman had snatched his notebook, he would’ve been furious but instead, he calmly allowed her to read his mad ramblings without protest or complaint.



Ruthie flipped through seven pages in the notebook and every line was filled with the same sentences, repeated over and over again in Max’s handwriting. Aside from our excitement about stumbling across her favorite author in a coffee shop she frequented, Ruthie became a cyclone of swirling emotions. She was caught somewhere between fascinated and frightened. She had heard stories about how odd creative people could be but what she read on those pages seem like some obsessive psychosis.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry,” she apologized as she closed notebook and carefully slid it back across the table. She felt as if she had just impolitely peered into his mind and inadvertently discovered something that was deeply private.
“I’m not crazy,” Max tried to reassure her when he noticed her confused, nervous expression. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m a writer so I am a little crazy. Honestly, I think that’s part of the job requirement…at least if you expect to be any good at it anyway. But, I assure you that I am by no means a maniac or serial killer kind of crazy. I prefer to say I’m eccentric. It sounds sexier and rolls off the tongue much more smoothly than crazy,” he joked. Then, Max smiled when he saw her body language shift as she relaxed just a little bit.
“I didn’t mean to grab your notebook like that. I don’t know what got into me,” she tried to explain. Ruthie still couldn’t believe that she had been so forward with someone that she held in such high esteem. On many occasions, while reading his novels, she had felt as if his words inked on those pages spoke directly to her soul. The secrets he shared seemed like they were somehow hers as well. That was why she loved every single one of his books. She was quite embarrassed by how pushy and overbearing she must’ve seemed to him.
“It’s fine,” he told her and watched her let out a slight sigh of relief as she relaxed a little bit more.
As Ruthie fumbled around in her head for what she should say next, there was a brief, awkward silence between them that quickly became an even more comfortable moment than when she had snatched the writer’s notebook without permission. Before Ruthie could figure out what to say next, Max spoke up and kept the conversation between strangers going.
“You’re wondering what I’m working on…and why I’ve been scribbling those same phrases over and over again right?” he asked.
“Well…yeah,” she answered and blushed a little when she realized that his eyes had found their way to her cleavage. An extra button in her blouse had become undone, exposing a little more of the soft flesh of her breasts than she meant to show. She surprised herself when she didn’t make an attempt to cover up or say something to get him to raise his gaze, which is what she normally would’ve done. She wasn’t fond of men gawking at her breasts but, there was something different, something sexy about the way Max looked at her that she didn’t mind at all. Yes, he was staring at her body but there was something more than lust in his eyes. Ruthie even flirted with the idea of possibly being the inspiration for some female character he would create in one of his stories. She wondered what type of woman he would make her into and was curious about how close that character would be to who she truly was. She was even a little turned on by the thought of him writing about parts of her that not many people got a chance to see, not just physically or sexually but parts of her soul.
“To be honest with you, I’ve been writing these same lines over and over all morning because I’m stuck,” Max explained.
“You mean you have writer’s block?” she asked, full of curiosity. She had never had the opportunity to speak to any author about their writing process and words couldn’t express how blessed she suddenly felt to be having just such a discussion with a man whose work she cherished.
“First, the term writers block is taboo when speaking to a writer,” he said playfully. “And no, I wouldn’t say that I have writer’s block. I’m just stuck,” he answered vaguely and took his eyes off of her breasts and stared into her pretty face instead.
“Stuck how?” Ruthie asked and as she stared back at Max, she realized that he was one handsome in person than his black and white photos on the dust jackets of his hardcover books suggested. However, the sad, lonely and lost look in his eyes was the same.
“I’m trying to write a novel about love and I’m completely stuck,” he said before he took another sip of his hot chocolate. The marshmallows had already melted and dissolved into white swirls in his hot drink. The splash of cognac he had added had kicked in but he was only a little tipsy.
“That’s understandable. Love is complicated,” said Ruthie. She experienced her fair share of heartbreaks, just like most people.
“Indeed it is,” said Max. “And some loves are more complicated than others.”
“So, who is this magical woman that you can’t find words to describe?” Ruthie asked the words he had written over and over suggested that some woman had possessed his heart with her presence and occupied all of his thoughts.
“I don’t think it’s just one woman in particular. I’ve been thinking about all of them this morning,” Max answered.
“I guess there’ve been many,” said Ruthie.
“There’ve been a few,” he answered. “I’ve been struggling and trying to dig up my fondest memories of those encounters, relationships, entanglements and romantic associations because I fear that I’ve lost too much of my faith in love.”
“I’ve probably read all of your books. You write about love, and intimacy in a way that I’ve never read or experienced before so, I kinda find that hard to believe,” she said.
“But, it’s true sweetheart. I mean, I woke up full of enthusiasm, and optimism, and ideas for this new book I planned to work on right here at this table but, it all quickly went away…and all because I did something this morning that I usually don’t do,” he answered.
“What did you do?” Ruthie asked, anxious to see if maybe she could help him to get out of the funk he seemed to be trapped in if she knew what the source of his problem was.
“And I sat down at this charming little table to write, there was already a newspaper sitting here,” he started to explain as he shifted his notebooks to reveal the local newspaper that was hidden underneath them. “As I sipped my first cup of hot chocolate, my own curiosity got the better of me and I ended up reading it. I always try my best not to watch the news or read the papers. I know, a weird thing for a writer but I don’t trust the media and most of the news is always bad news. As I flipped through these flimsy pages and read the stories printed on this cheap paper, all I kept reading started to make me more and more depressed,” he told her before he picked up the paper angrily and started flipping through the pages until he found one article in particular. “How can I sit and write about love have to I’ve read about something as tragic and heinous as this?” He asked as he turned the paper to show her article that had so deeply disturbed him.
Ruthie’s stared at the headline which read: TEEN GIRL ON TRIAL FOR MURDER and as Ruthie read the article, she learned that the murder victim was the stepfather of the girl on trial. The article went on to state that the teen claimed that she acted in self-defense. According to her statement, her stepfather had been molesting her for years.

Copyright © 2017 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.

I hope you've enjoyed this sample from "Love in the City." In the coming weeks, I'll tease you with more. Remember to pre-order it. (I'm almost at the finish line)