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Authors: Jerry Byrum

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Roscoe interrupted. “What things does she like to do with
her son?”

“Good question.” But Selena hadn’t thought through what that
meant, so she would be flying by the seat of her wheelchair coming up with an
answer that would be what Roscoe was curious about. Her thoughts were wondering
what a teenage boy would want in a mom. What would Roscoe, the potential reader
of a romance story, relate to in a mom, if he were the teenage boy?

“First of all, she’s a good listener, when her son tells her
things about school and friends. She attends his school functions and
activities. They watch movies together. She makes her life blend with his
friends. But to add balance, she makes sure he learns and understands about her
life and interests.” She paused, looking at Roscoe. “You know, the whole
respect thing?”

He nodded. “What else?”

She took a breath and exhaled, blowing a strand of hair away
from her eye. “Well, she’s a single mom, so the father isn’t around. She’s
faced with making sure her son is kept in healthy contact with males in the
family or in her social circle.”

Roscoe asked, “So how’s that working…for the son, and the
mom?”

“You’ll have to read my novel to find out.”

“I see.” He nodded. “Can you tell me more about the woman?
She must be old if she’s got a teenage son.”

Selena huffed. “She’s only thirty-four, and that’s not old.
What do you expect, her to be twenty-one and have a teenager? Do the math on
that on, Roscoe.” She grinned. “Remember you’re sixty-five. Now that’s old.”

When he stopped laughing, he asked, “Does she…I mean how
tall, or—”

“Okay, okay, you want to know the physical stuff. She’s about
five feet, eight inches tall and weighs about 115 pounds. She exercises, keeps
herself fit. Shapely hips, nice firm breasts.” She cut her eyes at him. “Likes
to take nature walks,” she watched him when she added, “but she’s got some
flaws.”

“Like what? She was sounding pretty interesting until you
said that. Why does she have to have flaws? ”

“She has flaws, because she’s not perfect.” She added, “Just
like you’ve now got a bum foot and a scar on your left cheek.” The impulse
struck without warning. She reached over with her right hand, touching the
scar, watching his eyes, and saying, “But you’re okay. I like you the way you
are.” She giggled, removing her hand, reaching for her notebook.

“Yeah, there’s that. I forgot.” He reached up and touched
his scar. “But if you’re writing the novel, why can’t you make her—”

“Perfect? I told you she’s not perfect. None of us are.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So what are her flaws?”

“She has a flat mole on her right upper lip. It’s more like
a freckle, small. Some women put one there with a makeup pencil, but she’s
never liked hers. She covers it with a little makeup. One of the guys she’s
dating doesn’t like it either. The other guy accepts it. Another flaw is on the
top of her right foot. She had to have five stitches and they were sewn wrong.
When the weather is very cold, it hurts and sometimes she’ll lean a little more
on the left foot when walking. Occasionally it bothers her when she runs.”

He said, “That’s it?”

“No, there’s one more flaw. She’s very efficient, and that
seems to make men uncomfortable, so her dating life has been sporadic, at
best.”

Roscoe thought about that one. Bells were ringing in the
back of his mind but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Showing some frustration,
he said, “But I don’t understand. You’re the writer. Why not fix everything?”

“As the writer, this is how I decided this character to be.”
She watched him a moment. “You don’t like this woman, do you, Roscoe?”

He held his hands up. “Now wait a minute. I’m still trying
to decide. I’m trying to keep an open mind about your character. But I still
don’t understand why she can’t be twenty-one?”

She thought a minute. “Okay let’s try that. Since she’s now
twenty-one, she no longer has a teenage kid. Her hair is the color of the week.
She still loves gummy bears and bubble gum, and being twenty-something trendy
she’s got a tattoo across her breasts in bold blue letters that invites SQUEEZE
ME! And her laugh is shrieking high pitched and giddy. Her father is
forty-two.” She paused. “Now, which woman is more interesting?”

“Uh…let’s go back to the thirty-four year-old woman.
Definitely.” He was shaking his head, as he remembered some of those
characteristics in his dating world of twenty-somethings.

Selena grinned. “I probably should mention that my
protagonist has some hidden passions that have been simmering for the right
man.” Her eyebrows wiggled.

Roscoe chuckled, “Well, yes, that might have helped me
decide right up front. What about the two guys she’s dating?”

“One is very rich; the other is an auto mechanic.”

“So which one does she end up with?”

“You’ll have to read my novel to find out if it is either,
or neither.”

“You’ve got my curiosity up. When can I start reading, and
how close are you to finishing it?”

She studied him a moment. “You’re not just saying that? You
really do want to read my novel?” Her eyes were bright.

“Sure. What little you’ve told me about the woman is…well
she sounds very interesting. Huh, never thought I’d say that about a woman that
old.” He laughed.

Selena’s palm smacked her forehead. “Oh, darn, I forgot.
Most of my manuscript is on our old computer at home. But I could have my mom
bring my flash drive.”

“That would work.” He paused a moment. “I’ve noticed that
you’re writing with pen and paper. Wouldn’t a laptop work better for you?”

“Yes, but my mom has been saving for some other things.” She
looked down at her notebook. “I’m doing fine. I enjoy writing by hand. It’s
kind of like the old authors used to write.”

He thought a moment. “What does your mom do?”

She grew a little tense. “Uh…she works in an office, doing
office stuff or something like that.” She gave a flighty wave of her hand.

He was about to follow with another question, but thought
what the hell, teenagers can be smart as Einstein with school work, but none of
them ever seem to know exactly what their parents do for a living. I didn’t.
The question dropped from his mind.

“I don’t ever see your mom come to visit. She does visit
you?”

Quick to answer. “Oh, yes, she just comes at odd times
because of her job schedule. Sometimes she comes later at night.”

Roscoe changed direction. “Speaking of visiting, I noticed a
couple of guys talking with you earlier today.”

“They’re school friends, or one of them is. Gregory has been
out of school working for two years.” Her faced quizzed him. “What about them?”

“Um…how well do you know the tall one?”

“What’s your point? What are you getting at?” She placed her
hands on the wheels of her chair.

“He’s trouble. You should stay away from him.”

She snapped. “As if you’re a saint?” Her voice got loud.
“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father!”

“I’m just saying—”

Heavy footsteps rounded the corner. Rachel had arrived
breaking in as her eyes darted back and forth from Roscoe to Selena. “Is he
bothering you?”

Selena looked up, letting an innocent smile spread across
her face, as her hand reached over and patted Roscoe’s arm resting on his
chair. She said, “No, not good old Uncle Roscoe. He’s just in one of his
advice-giving modes.”

Roscoe rolled his eyes.

Rachel glared. “You never told me Selena is your niece. Are
y’all kin?” Suspicion registered on her face.

He shrugged. “You can tell from the teenager’s response that
I wouldn’t dare publicly claim her as kin. You know how that is Rachel, kids
don’t want to admit they have parents or other family members. Might embarrass
them around their friends.”

Rachel nodded. “Y’all keep the peace. I don’t need to be
settling family feuds around here. Got enough to do as it is.” She turned and
pounded back down the hall.

Roscoe was grinning. “Well, that was a really nice recovery
you did there.”

She tried to suppress her grin. “I didn’t think you would
mind, since I heard you already had nieces.”

“I can tell your mom has her hands full with you. She needs
some help.” He was chuckling as she wheeled away. But he felt accepted by her.
A person who doesn’t know much about me, but accepts me. What a new feeling.

“Got to take my meds,” She said over her shoulder.

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Saturday

 

Breakfast Kingdom was packed with hungry diners. Hot plates
of pancakes, omelets, bacon, country ham, sausages, and grits were shuttled out
to the happy morning crowd. It was the weekend; the diners were relaxed, filled
with laughter.

Madison looked up as the waiter placed the steaming food
before her and her sister-in-law, Luella Sanchez. The waiter topped off their
coffee and said, “Have at it ladies. I’ll check with you later.”

Madison said, “This looks scrumptious…best meal I’ve had all
week.” She took two bites of toast, and a sip of coffee.

Luella nodded in agreement. After spearing a bite of fruit,
she said, “Glad you mentioned that. I’m worried that you’re not taking care of
yourself.”

Madison shrugged. “I know, I know, we’ve had this
conversation before. I’m doing my best. I love my job, but I’ve had a mess to
clean up after that damn D.R. Fallington.”

“What’s the latest?”

Madison took another sip of coffee. “For one thing, he mixed
up his personal life with business. Would you believe one of our suppliers,
female, called and wanted to know why we hadn’t placed another order with her.
She explained that D.R. promised her repeat orders if she’d “socialize” with
him on one of his business trips. She was very brazen about it.” She took a
bite of sausage. “She faxed me the contract he’d signed. I ran it by our
attorneys, and we’re locked in with her junk merchandise for another year,
unless I can figure some way to modify the contract.”

“When is it going to end, Madison?” Luella started with her
omelet.

Madison shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m putting fires out
daily, while trying to get new initiatives off the ground. I could kill him, or
at least break his other foot and neck also.”

“I hate to see you so tense. You’re going to need to keep
yourself healthy…for whatever the future holds.”

Madison put her fork down, staring at her plate. “I’ve got
to keep my job and take care of my daughter.” She looked up. “Luella, how can
you be such a wonderful supportive friend, and your brother was such a terrible
husband to me? I’ve never understood that.”

“He’s the worst of our family. He embarrassed our parents to
no end.” She continued working with her omelet. “I hope he stays in prison
forever.”

They focused on their meal. Luella was forty, short with an
extra ten pounds. She had a smiling face, short-cropped brown hair that
occasionally changed with the latest styles. She’d never married but dated
steadily. With her expertise in call service, she followed Madison to
Asheville. They were more like sisters than in-laws.

Madison was staring at her meal, fork poised in mid-air.

Luella watched her. “What are you thinking?”

Madison put her fork down. “D.R. There’s something about
him. He’s such a nice looking man, and at times has seemed like he’d be a lot
of fun.” Her better senses took hold. “But then again he was so insulting to
me, so…so…mean-spirited. He’s a woman user. Why was he so rude to me?”

“I don’t know, but you don’t need another man like that.
Remember, cobras have a certain beauty about them, but they’re deadly.” Luella
looked up. “Get him off your mind. He’s trouble on any day or night of the
week. Some men can’t be rehabilitated, my brother for one.”

 

In the parking lot, Madison said, “Thank you again for
helping me with everything, while I’m gone on this business trip.”

“I’ll cover the home front. You take care of the job Ms.
CEO.” Luella laughed.

Madison smiled and hugged her. “So what style are you
shooting for today?”

“I’m gonna let the hair stylist flip a coin. I’m feelin’
kinda sexy today.” She wiggled her hips. Both broke into laughter.

Madison drove off for the airport. Luella headed for the
hair salon.

Chapter Twenty-Four

 

Billy White came rushing into Roscoe’s room shortly after
noon. He had three bags, handing them to Roscoe, then sat in the lounge chair.
“Hope I got everything. Oh, that third bag is some fruits I picked up at the
grocery store.”

Roscoe rummaged around in the bags, checking, and nodding.
“Looks like it’s all here. Thanks a lot.”

“Thought I’d do it during my lunch break.

“So, how’s the world of work out there?”

“Busy.” Billy took a seat. “I’m so glad to have the full
time and part time jobs. It’s kept me out of trouble.” He chuckled. “I’ve only
had one beer, since I visited you.” He eyed Roscoe. “The world looks different
when you’re sober, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does, and I like it this way.”

“Yeah, me too. Even Sandy’s cooking tastes better.” He
paused. “You know, Roscoe, I’m enjoying just hanging out with her. Is that
crazy?”

“Sounds pretty sensible to me.”

They both nodded in silence.

Billy said, tilting his head toward the shopping bags, “With
all this equipment, looks like things are moving along.”

“Yeah. By the way, the realtor is supposed to give me a call
next week. Thinks he’s got a buyer for my penthouse. I hope I can unload that
monstrosity.”

Billy hung his head. “Man, I’m really sorry about all the
bad stuff that’s happened to you. I’ve been thinking about your job plans. I
think it’ll work, so count me in.” He lifted his head. “And I can’t thank you
enough for the loan. It paid off the worst debts.”

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