Love Notes (27 page)

My beta readers and friends:

Lisa Markson, your review was unreal. I woke up to the best review and you had me in tears. Thank you for reading it and for relating and feeling the story, even if you only read paranormal.

Tami Norman, the day you agreed to be a guest reviewer on the blog, was a most awesome day. You’ve become a friend and have offered insight in to Charlie’s story. You were one of the first to read it and appreciate it. Your review had me in tears. Thank you so much for getting my story and seeing my vision and for all of your help and time. You are most awesome!

Marcia Woodell, who is always there for me and constantly checking on me. You are a rock star lady! Your friendship really means a ton. You said you would be there when I needed you. And yes you were. Thank you my friend!!

Lisa Rutledge, you read my story and saw past the issues that needed to be fixed. I value your opinion and am so grateful for your advice. You are a doll and am so glad to call you friend.

To my friend Tiffiney Eaton. Honey you are the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for. From day one you said I could do it (even though you have this convoluted story in your head about lunch room ladies). Not going to happen, so give it up. You've been with me through the beginning and watched me to the end. You have listened to me discuss plot, story lines, names and the whole nine yards. All you have ever cared about was getting this paperback book in your hot little hands. Girl, you deserve one after all you've had to listen to. I love you so much and cannot imagine my life without you.

To my fabulous Etowah High School, Cafeteria Co-Workers, a HUGE thank you for listening to my endless chatter about my book. Annette, Danielle, Anne, Linda, Tiffiney, Lisa, Sandy, Gayla & even you Scott who realized not too long ago that I was even writing one. How you missed it, I will never know…

Sandy Nail, my Etowah Manager, you deserve to have your own little paragraph. You are such a God send to me. Girl, you have so much faith and trust in me that it astounds me. Love you bunches!!

To my mom who held the faith and hope that one day I would be able to make my dream come true and to my sister who continued to tell me how proud she was of me, for finally following my dreams. Thank you, I love you both.

To all of the bloggers that helped spread the word. A huge thanks to Sandy Borrero, for your cheerleading skills, You rock!!

Harley Myers, thank you my dear for reading this early on and giving me some insight into your thoughts on LN and especially Maverick!

To my kids at Etowah High School, that tease me endlessly and give me so much crap, but supported me and asked me every week when I was going to release LN, just so they can buy it and read it, so you guys deserve a special thanks. Huge shout out to Ty, Will, Tyler and Jasper. You guys

always asking, was kind of a big deal. You never forgot about it. Ya’ll are kind of cool! Just don’t tell anyone I said so…

Thank you to everyone that shared this book and helped make this dream of mine, that I’ve had for over 20 years, finally come true.

Play list for LOVE NOTES

Fucking Perfect by Pink

Try by Pink

Free Fallin by Tom Petty

Demons by Imagine Dragons

Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

This Time by Imagine Dragons

Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran

Girl Next Door by Saving Jane

Come Down to Me by Saving Jane

Show Me What Your Looking For by Carolina Liar

Don't Stop Believin by Journey

You Found Me by The Fray

She Is Love by Parachute

Don't You Worry Child by Swedish House Mafia

The Funeral by Band of Horses

Spinning by Jack's Mannequin

The Resolution by Jack's Mannequin

All We Are by Matt Nathanson

Catch My Breath by Kelly Clarkson

Lights by Ellie Gouldie

Little Talks of Monsters and Men

Let Me Love You by Ne-yo

Stupid Boy-Cassadee Pope

Hall of Fame-The Script & Will.I.Am

Breath Me by Sia

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri & Steve Kazee

All I've Ever Needed-Paul McDonald & Nikki Reed

An excerpt from Lila Felix’s upcoming novel Seeking Havok. Expected release date: Fall 2013

HAVOK

I was about 98.973% sure I wouldn’t get accepted into college because of my name alone. Seriously, what college administrator in their right mind would admit a person named Havok, a name that not only portrayed a troublemaker, but one that was also clearly spelled wrong; I’m sure the bong my mom smoked before she went into the hospital, while in labor, didn’t help the name she came up with either. I could just imagine an enormous cherry wood collegiate boardroom table surrounded by gray browed administrators sipping Bourbon and discussing how ludicrous my name was. Every time I wrote my name on a college application, an essay, Calculus homework or even my own shoes, I wanted to clock my mom in the face with a dictionary opened to the page with the correct spelling: HAVOC. And let’s say, just for argument’s sake that she liked the name Havok, and that it was spelled right, a nice middle name would’ve sufficed. I would be giddy as a freckled kid with a lollipop to have a middle name like Susan or Michelle, hell I would take something a little quirky like Paige. But what did I get named? Havok Jocelyn Daniels. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, huh?

And I’m sure if my mom knew who my dad was, surely he would’ve put a swift stop to naming me Havok. I can’t imagine that she didn’t know who he was; she just didn’t want to tell me.

I sat in my closet and finished my homework by the light of one of those ‘put it anywhere’ light bulbs sold only on TV, even though I bought it at the drugstore, and kept having to swat the hem of a flowered dress from my face. She’s not that bad of a mother. She doesn’t
make
me stay in the closet. It’s my choice. Because what’s outside of this closet? The things that happen between the sliding mirrored doors of this closet and the apartment door were vomit inducing. Plus, I kinda liked the closet; it was my own personal safe haven.

I pressed the button on my watch to make it glow for me, five thirty. I had to wake her up in an hour and a half, no earlier, no later. I had plans to meet Ali at her house for dinner. Ali was my best friend. She had twelve brothers and sisters and usually, if they didn’t outright count the heads at the table, I was overlooked. It worked to my advantage because if it weren’t for the Blakely family, I probably wouldn’t eat dinner at all.

I snuck in the kitchen an hour later to turn on the coffee pot, and then back to finish my homework. I listened to the radio on an old Walkman all while watching the time like I was on the watch’s salary. I stared at six fifty nine until the minute finally ticked by. I slid the door open and looked both ways before crossing the room. There’s no telling what waited for me outside of those doors. And the traffic through this place was fast and furious–and icky.

I crept over to her bed, really just a box spring and a mattress on the floor and patted her foot to make her wake up. She always, always had white sheets so I could bleach them, because gross. You really didn’t want to be on the propeller end of my mom waking up. She flailed her arms when her motor started and you didn’t want a piece of that. Just because I was spelled wrong didn’t mean I was stupid.

“Ugh–coffee.” She moaned, dragging her body up to a sitting position while keeping her face firmly planted on the pillow for as long as possible. As usual, she had to hug the sheet to her body, still naked from her last ‘payroll in the hay’. Her yellowy blonde hair long and haylike, sticking out this way and that. Black gunk still clung to her eyelashes making her look like some Egyptian princess gone very, very wrong.

“Ok, I’m getting it.” That poor coffee maker was on its last leg. The little swivel job that held the filters, yeah, I broke the hinge on it last week on accident and had to duct tape it together. But thank God it still worked and somehow she hadn’t noticed. Even if she did, I would blame it on her. It’s not like she remembered anything after she snorted, smoked, or shot up–whatever the night gave her.

I poured the thick black stream into one of those huge coffee cups meant for coffee connoisseurs and poured obscene amounts of sugar and creamer into it. I carried it, along with a stray granola bar into the bedroom where she had already started her wake up line of coke.

“Get my clothes, will ya?” She slurred at me while wiping the bottom of her nostrils and taking the steaming cup from my hands. She’d now wrapped the sheet completely around her, toga style, more convenient for sniffing and downing caffeine.

“Yeah, Mom.” I went to the dresser and pulled out jeans and a halter top for her. It was cold outside, and a halter top and jeans was the equivalent of a nun’s garb in my mom’s book.

“Ugh–I hate jeans.” She said, disgusted with my choice.

“It’s cold outside, Mom. It’s just until you get to the club, you know. Then you can change. You don’t want to get sick.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should come to the club, let the girls make you over. You dress like a tomboy.” I looked down at myself. I didn’t really try to stick my style in such a stereotypical cliché like she did. But truth be told, I tried to dress boyish. I wore baggy pants and hoodies outside of the house. I never wanted to draw the attention of men. She did plenty of that for the both of us.

“Um, I don’t think they’d let me wear that stuff to school, Mom.”

“Well, I guess not. But three more weeks and you can start working, putting in around here. I mean, you’re eighteen already, but I guess we have to let you finish high school. I don’t really consider your little paper route putting in.”

Most mothers wanted their girls to be wives, nurses, teachers, doctors or lawyers. My mother expected me to follow in her footsteps and as I looked across the room at her neat shelves stacked with mile high stilettos, I renewed my vow to myself.
Don’t be like your mother.

“Um, yeah, Mom. It’s seven thirty, better get in the shower.”

“Ugh–you’re such a goody goody. I’m going, I’m going.”

I heard the water as the pipes squeaked alive and I put on some sterile gloves, a mainstay at this abode, and changed the sheets on her bed. I threw them in the hamper. Around here we needed one of those bins like they had at hospitals marked ‘hazardous materials’ or ‘soiled linens.’ Because when your Mom’s a stripper/prostitute/druggie, there’s just no telling what will make an appearance.

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