Destination D

DESTINATION D

A Novel

By Lori Beard-Daily

Destination D

© 2011 Lori Beard-Daily. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published in the U.S. by Boutique of Quality Books Publishing Company
www.bqbpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-9831699-7-0 (p)
ISBN 978-1-937084-35-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011936657

Book design by Darlene Swanson •
www.van-garde.com
Photo by Reggie Anderson
Cover design by Dion Jefferies

Acknowledgments

I
t is hard to believe that in 1998 I originally wrote
Destination D
as a play. Back then, it was entitled,
Plane As Plain Can Be.
Four years later, my best friend, Shree, suggested that I turn the play into a novel. So, I did. Now, nine years later, the book is finally completed.

Writing a book is something that I have wanted to do for a very long time. I just didn't have any idea that it would take me this long to get it out. Just like the title, the book has had many destinations. It's been on a long journey of editors, agents, publishers, and even television executives. Everyone had an opinion about how I should write the book, and I listened to them all—for nine long years! In the end, it was finally my voice that I decided would have the final say.

I have been very blessed to have had a lot of supporters along the way. Now, I finally have the opportunity to let them read the finished product and thank them for the part they played in the book's completion. If I have missed anyone's name, please know that it was not intentional, and I hope you will accept my sincere apology.

I want to say thank you to the following:

God for giving me the gift of creativity and the faith to continue to believe in Him and myself.

My husband, Bryon, for always supporting me—even on days when I didn't deserve it! He read my manuscript over and over again. He helped me brainstorm ideas, edit, and even did some rewrites. Even when he was too tired to work on his own projects, he was always there to help me with
Destination D.
I love my hubby!

My daughter, Erica, for praying every night of every year since she was four years old that the book would be published. She is now thirteen. See, God does answer prayers. I appreciate your faith, Erica!

My daughter, Erin, for staying positive and keeping me encouraged on a daily basis. Thank you for having an everlasting bright side!

My son, Eric, for doing his best in trying to keep his distance from me during my rewrites and just trying to help with whatever needed to be done. You have been quite a trooper!

My mother, Gwen Beard, and my father, Israel Beard, PhD, for never discouraging me. It really paid off !

My in-laws, George and Elizabeth Daily, for supporting me on all of my writing projects. I couldn't have married into a better family!

My best friend, Shree Sullivan, who initially encouraged me and put the idea in my head to write a book. You have always been there for me, and I'm so grateful for you.

My colleague and friend, Angelo Omari, for giving me the gift of friendship and referring me to the Clark Atlanta University's graphic design class that worked with me on book cover design.

My angel, Lin Sun, PhD, a college professor at Clark Atlanta University whom I've never met. She had her talented graphic design students enter a contest for the cover of my book. She managed the project and—poof— the cover was born!

My winner for the cover design contest, Dion Jefferies. I appreciate you for hanging in there and giving me the exact graphic that I wanted for the book.

My friend, Theron Barney, for giving me great ideas on how I could make this a better book and being a wonderful sounding board. His wife, Valerie Benning Barney, for introducing me to her talented husband and allowing me take up his time to work out the kinks in rewriting
Destination D.

My friend, Shawn Evans Mitchell, for encouraging me in more ways than she'll probably ever realize. I admire your wisdom, journalistic skills, and, most of all, your friendship.

My friend and Spelman sister, Florence Greer, for being the first person to buy my book even before it came out. Flo, you are the best, and I really appreciate you!

My homegirl and dear friend, Denise Robinson, who never stopped believing in my talents.

My friend and advisor, Denise Whiting Pack, for giving me the additional networking resources I needed during a time when I needed to keep things moving. She gave me the encouragement to believe that I could do this.

My publisher, Terri Leidich, of Boutique of Quality Books Publishing Company for really believing in my story and allowing me to tell it in my own words.

My friend, Gary Yates, who has been there for me through all of my playwriting days and remains one of my biggest supporters. Thank you for your LA agent referral when the manuscript was being considered for a TV series.

My colleague, Sandra Weber, for liking the storyline so much that she gave me an opportunity to pitch
Destination D
as television series for TBS, Inc.

My colleague, Bruce Kirton, for working with Sandra Weber and answering my questions as I went through the TV pitching process.

My coach, Chandra Russell, for encouraging me and instilling in me that anything is possible if I believe.

And I definitely have to mention Margaret Fernandez, Esq.; Loretta Lyle, PhD; Lencola Sullivan-Verseveldt; Thonnia Lee; Angela Benson; Ivan Yuspeh; and Rico Pena. Some of you were involved in the initial stages of the book and others toward the end. If it has been a while since we have spoken, I wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten how you helped guide me with one or more of the following: editing, character development, advice, or personal referrals. I truly appreciate your time and efforts.

Check-In

D
ee sat straight up in the oversized stuffed leather chair with her eyes fixed to the beige coffer ceiling counting all the quadrangles. With heightened anxiety, her pupils swiftly scanned the room and gravitated toward the floor to ceiling windows. Staring back at her was a picturesque view of snow-capped mountains rising just a little higher than the clouds. There lay her comfort zone.

I can do this,
she whispered. Her heart thumped so fast she was sure that its reverberation could be seen through her red cashmere sweater that was now sticking to her back from beads of perspiration.
C'mon, Dee you can do this.
And before she knew it, the words tumbled out of her mouth like a toddler taking its first steps.

“I am…a…li…liar, and I can't be trusted. And I wouldn't know what the
truth
looked liked if God himself showed it to me.” She held her breath, then gently released it and felt a surge of relief envelop her tall slender body.
There, I said it.
She breathed in again and slowly exhaled. Her large mink brown eyes were now brimming with tears that struggled not to fall.

Dee continued staring out of the window and with a slight turn of her bottom lip, she stammered,“ My friends call me Dee. I have a B.A. in political science from Spelman College and a J.D. from Columbia University. As a matter of fact, Simon and Garfunkel named a song after me,” she said, with an evasive tone that the doctor couldn't tell if she was serious or trying to be funny.

The doctor paused from his note taking. He raised his left eyebrow and curiously leaned forward in anticipation of what she was going to say next. Dee turned both of her lips slightly upward trying hard to simulate a smile.

“You know the song, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water?'”

He answered with only a nod so he would not interrupt her flow.

“Well,
I'm
that bridge.” Her voice cracked slightly as she struggled to speak. Dee anxiously folded her arms across her chest and nervously tapped her fingers as she waited for his response.

The doctor's sapphire blue eyes caught a brief glimpse of her, and she quickly shifted her attention toward the window. Even with all of the tension that was mounting inside of her, somehow his smile felt like a warm blanket that comforted the chill that slowly crept up her spine.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Her eyes darted to and from his again.

“Ms. Bridge, I find it quite interesting that the first word you use to describe yourself is ‘liar.' You also have a quick wit and sense of humor that I think is quite positive.” His voice was as smooth as a gracefully aged Italian Merlot wine. He looked up at her again hoping to gain her eye contact, but she continued to resist.

“That's because it's the truth—and please call me, Deirdre,” she said, still in deep thought about the incredulity of her confession.

“Well, Deirdre, that may be, but you have quite a few accomplishments. You're a college graduate, and you have a law degree from one of the most prestigious law schools in the country. There is obviously more to you than just being a liar.”

“Yes. One would think.”

“How do you feel about taking into consideration an accomplishment you've made each day? You'll probably find there's a lot more positive about your life than you realize. Every day we should learn something we didn't know the previous day.”

Dee listened while she got up from the chair to walk over to an opposite window that was so transparent she felt she could reach out and touch the Salt Lake City skyline. Her flawless skin glistened as the morning sun beamed through the window on her cinnamon brown face, placing her a little at ease. The thought that this would be the first of many visits here made it even more difficult to come to grips with just how serious things really had become.

Her fingers trembled as they gently massaged her temples. Too many thoughts had caused her head to throb.
I can't believe that I've gotten the nerve to come…and to a psychiatrist's office, for God's sake!
Flying over 2,000 miles to see
this
doctor because she didn't want to take a chance of running into someone she knew back home in Atlanta. It was a bit over the top, even for Dee.

Usually, Dee's outward appearance radiated elegance and charm, and her inner beauty was just as appealing. But today was different. As she gazed out the window she saw the reflection of a woman who was a mess both inside and out. Each passing day was a reminder that her life was like a kite without a hand to guide its sail. And if she didn't stop the lying, she would never be able to get back on course— and just like a kite—she would be lost forever.

Prepare For Take Off

I
t was Friday at 11:30 a.m. Thirty minutes before quitting time. Bill McKesson popped his narrow head through Amanda's doorway. Oblivious to his presence, Amanda continued keying in the information from the stack of papers that consumed the majority of her desk. Her fingers clicked away at the computer as Bill pushed his gray bristly eyebrows together and frowned as he strained his eyes to see the small Roman numerals on her clock. He pulled out his wire-rimmed glasses from his jacket pocket and perched them at the top of his nose.

“Amanda, what are you still doing here ?” he asked, his voice bold with southern charm.

Amanda jumped. Her chubby arms knocked over some of her paperwork, spilling it onto the floor. “Oh, Mr. McKesson, I didn't see you standing there.”

“You still haven't answered my question.”

Amanda smiled and looked at Bill sheepishly while she bent to pick up the papers. He had folded his arms deliberately across his chest. His look of discontentment made her feel even guiltier that she had not taken the whole day off instead of just half of it.

Her fingers meticulously organized the piled case files on her desk. “Sir, it's not noon yet.”

“Oh, hell! Amanda! What are a few more minutes ? Go on and leave. You've certainly earned it” he said, waving his platinum Rolex-laden wrist toward the doorway. “C'mon Amanda, VAMOOSE!” He motioned his head in the direction of the hallway, shifting his salt-and-pepper toupee a little toward the left

“Yes, sir!” Amanda nodded as she neatly stacked some more files and returned them to her filing cabinet. Her auburn curls bounced across her face, helping her mask the laughter through pressed lips. “I'll be leaving in about ten more minutes.”

“Always here to the bitter end. Just see that you're outta here before noon, today—
please!”
he said, waving a warning finger at her.

Amanda nodded as she thought about how nice it was of him to stop by. Bill knew how often she stayed late, and that was thanks to one particularly shrewd, self-absorbed attorney. But Bill was unlike any attorney that she had ever worked for. He
really
cared about his clients.

Bill interrupted her thoughts and firmly patted Amanda on the shoulder and turned to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot! My wife picked up a little something for Tracey.” His age-worn hand fumbled eagerly through the blue lining of his double-breasted suit pocket. He hastily pulled out a small box wrapped in gold foil paper with a jewel tone ribbon neatly tied around it.

“Tell that daughter of yours that we all said congratulations. That's a mighty fine accomplishment,” he said placing the gift on her desk.

“Oh, tell Mrs. McKesson she didn't have to do this!” Amanda's smoky gray eyes danced as if she was just handed a personal trophy.

“Oh, yes she did. She does exactly what I tell her to!” They both laughed. Everyone knew that even after thirty-five years of marriage and three grown children, Evelyn McKesson was the boss in the family—not Bill.

“Well, I can tell you that anyone who gets into Hampton University on a full scholarship has made a major accomplishment. And that says a lot about you as well.”

Amanda blushed. Her face turned the same scarlet red as her loose fitting floral print polyester dress. “I don't know what to say, Mr. McKesson.”

“Oh, go on, Amanda! Have a good time at the party!”

Amanda smiled at the present. Yes, Bill was definitely one of a kind. No wonder he was the highest paid partner in the firm. His charisma alone was worth millions.

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

It was 11:45 a.m. and she meticulously began stacking the files and then stopped momentarily to look at her daughter's picture. She briefly remembered when she was her daughter's age. An honor student as well, Amanda also had selected Hampton University as one of her college choices. But that was where she and Tracey's similar paths ended. Amanda picked up her purse and pulled out an old photo that she kept buried in her wallet. It was a reminder of a past that she kept hanging onto, but she knew she needed to let go. She smiled and put the picture back and immediately got back to work.

Reminiscent of a master working a Rubik's Cube, Amanda swiftly and skillfully continued to place all of the file folders in alphabetical order in the file drawer behind her. Next, she double-checked her briefcase for the work that she had planned to do over the weekend and eyed the present from Bill that still lay on top of her desk. Not wanting to wrinkle its ribbon, she gently placed it on its side in her briefcase and carefully zipped it up. Amanda looked at the clock again. It was exactly noon. She heaved a sigh of relief.
“Now,
I can leave.”

She turned off the lights in her office and pulled the door handle behind her. The telephone rang, breaking her stride. Amanda dutifully re-entered her office, but paused before answering the phone, thinking it might be Tracey checking to make sure she was leaving on time.

“Hello, this is Amanda.”

“Hi Amanda, it's me.”

No, not you!
Amanda scowled at the thought of who was on the other end of the line and rolled her eyes. She wanted to kick herself
hard
for answering the phone. Amanda's face dropped and a cloud seemed to cover her. It was just a matter of time before the sun would drop out of sight and the rain would come pouring down.

She gripped the edge of her desk trying to maintain her disposition. But the sound of that woman's voice on the other end of the phone made her stomach do flips and her voice fell silent.

“Amanda? Are you there ?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling as if someone had just knocked the wind out of her.

“Listen, Judge Ferguson just called to tell me that the two cases in front of ours settled so the whole docket has been moved forward. The court date for the Johnson vs. Tyfish Systems' case is in two weeks. I need those files that you were working on by the end of the day, today.”

“But, I'm leaving early today. Hello, are you there?”

There was silence at the other end of the phone, and then Amanda heard a loud sigh. She knew it was the beginning of her orchestrating a guilt trip.

“I told you last month that I needed to take a half day today because of Tracey's graduation party,” Amanda said.

“Yes, I remember,” she answered with a hint of bitterness in her voice. Amanda imagined this woman confidently propping her high-heeled Christian Louboutin pumps on her mahogany desk as she always did when she got irritated when the person on the other end of the phone was telling her something she didn't want to hear.

“But I can get it to you by the end of the business day on Monday. Is that all right ?”

Agitated, the attorney flung her chair around, abruptly removed her feet from her desk and was now at full stance. “Listen, Amanda, I knew at some point this was going to happen. Don't make us go down this road today, okay? I see resumes come across my desk every day from paralegals that are just itching for the opportunity to work with this law firm. Now, if you can't handle a little extra work load, I can give one of them a call.”

“But…”

“Gotta go, I have a call coming in. See you at 5:00!” The attorney abruptly slammed the phone in Amanda's ear.

“I can't stay…hello?” Click. “She hung up on me!” Amanda stared at the receiver. Her hands trembled as she attempted to place it back in its holder. She looked at the clock: 12:05 p.m. She closed her eyes and ran her fingertips gently up and down the back of her head in hopes that the pain and the thought of that woman would both go away.

I've been planning this party for Tracey for months, and now the day has finally arrived, and it took her all of five minutes to ruin it.
She clinched both fists, raised them above her head, and violently shook them as she screamed in silence.

Pamela Madison was the firm's only black female attorney. She'd graduated in the top ten percent of her law class at Columbia University and was known for her intimidating tactics in the law firm as well as in the courtroom.

Pam's reputation preceded her. Moving from a prestigious law firm in Chicago, she quickly learned many effective yet unscrupulous tactics, making her well sought after by several prominent law firms across the country. Sterling, Mathis, and Silverman nabbed her with a lucrative bonus and a six-figure salary that primed her to be the first black female partner in the firm.

Although Pam could be ruthless, you had to admire the singular quality that put her a cut above the rest: Pam knew how to get what she wanted. The problem was that she didn't care who she hurt in the process. She was the first attorney to arrive at the office each morning, and the last to leave every night.

Always poised to strut her credentials confidently, Pam was notorious for un-leveling the playing field with the prosecuting attorney that was going up against her in the courtroom. And once she found the person's weak spot, she was merciless. One case in particular was a widely publicized sexual assault.

Pam had stood next to her client in the courtroom. A small smiled played across her lips. She leered at Allison Hughes, the opposing attorney who was decked out in her finest courtroom attire. Her exquisite tailor-made pantsuit gave the impression that she was at the pinnacle of her game, but Pam knew that Allison was no match for her. In an icy tone, Pam had whispered to Allison, “I hope you're getting plenty of rest, because you're going to be worn out after you
lose
this case.”

Allison's face turned colorless. “Excuse me?”

Pam was silent. Her eyes spoke volumes and she knew Allison got the message.
You heard me. I didn't stutter.

Allison bit her lip, put on her best poker face, and directed a pensive look toward the judge.

“Judge Hampton, may I approach the bench?” Allison had asked in almost a whisper.

“Yes, Miss Hughes. Is there a problem?”

Pam couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched Allison walk pointedly over to the judge. She could tell that Allison was getting more and more worked up by the second.

Pam, on the other hand, had three parts to her courtroom strategy. Number one: Getting the prosecuting attorney rattled before the trial. Unbeknownst to Allison, she had just fallen victim.

Allison shot Pam a deliberate cut of her eyes as she assertively turned to face the judge. “Well, Your Honor, Counselor Madison seems to think that making threatening remarks before my opening argument is going to shake me.” Allison waved her finger accusingly in the direction of Pam as she proceeded to tell the judge what Pam had said.

“Is that true, Ms. Madison?”

Pam approached the bench, unfazed by Allison's allegations. A devilish grin spread across her face as she pretended to make peace with Allison.

“On the contrary, Your Honor, I was simply expressing to Counselor Hughes that I hope she had plenty of rest for this case. It's going to be a long one, and I know that she has had some personal difficulties and I was only implying that…”

“Implying what? That I
can't
try this case?” Allison had blurted out. The blood vessels in her forehead were making a well-defined V in the middle section of her eyebrows.

“I
didn't say that,” Pam had calmly insisted, knowing that Allison Hughes was as high strung as they came. Recently, rumor had it that Allison's newlywed husband was found in bed with another man. It was just a matter of time before the network got wind that her Fortune 500 executive husband was really a closet homosexual. Pam shuddered at the thought of the embarrassment it would cause Allison. And although Allison was doing everything she could to try and have some sense of normalcy, it was obvious that she was clinging to the edge of a dangerous cliff, and Pam was ready to push her right over it.

“I know your tactics, Counselor, and I will not allow you to intimidate me,” Allison said, trying to contain the pent up frustration swelling inside of her. Pam knew at that very moment Allison was teetering on the brink. Any sudden collapse would push her right off this case.

Judge Hampton intervened. “This is a courtroom, and you are both professionals. So let's act like professionals.”

Allison tried hard to keep her composure, but the perspiration from her underarms was already making a dark puddle on her light gray blazer. She resumed her position with her client and took a tissue from her briefcase to wipe the perspiration that was now falling profusely from her brow. She smoothed her thick honey-blonde hair back in place and began perusing over her notes, nodding as her client whispered in her ear.

Pam was as smooth as she was alluring. She walked coolly back to her seat with a smirk on her face and gave her client a reassuring wink as she slowly
broke down
her opponent. This was strategy number two.

“Counselor Hughes, will you be giving opening arguments?” asked Judge Hampton.

“No—I mean yes, Your Honor.” Pam's sedate green eyes honed in on Allison as if she was putting her in a trance. Allison slowly began to speak, stuttering over her words. “Your Honor…Mr. Fielding…has…uh, been…a…excuse me, Your Honor.”