by Mark Anthony
Still A Dog
Mark Anthony
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Copyright Page
Over ten years ago, I sat down at a computer and I wrote Dogism. I wrote Dogism with no intentions of ever publishing it. But as fate would have it, Dogism was published and since that time I’ve written and published more books than I ever could have imagined. One rule that I had set for myself was that I would never write a sequel to any book that I had written. But I was inspired to write the sequel to Dogism, in part because there was a particular message that I wanted to get across in this book using the gift of writing that I have been blessed with. I also wanted to write this book as a reward to myself for years of hard work, perseverance and faith, which is truly the only way to any kind of success in life. So I dedicate this book to myself as well as to all of the readers who have supported me over the years and to those people who diligently, with self-discipline, work very hard at whatever it is that they truly love to do.
Prologue
It had been six years since I had confessed the life-changing news to my wife Nicole. It was devastating and deal-breaking news, news that would have ended most marriages in a heartbeat. The news was that I, Lance Thomas, at the time a husband of five years, had gotten another woman pregnant! Surprisingly—and shockingly—my wife had actually forgiven my black ass.
Nicole was a good Christian wife in every sense of the word. And after she had forgiven me for such a horrendous act of disloyalty, I did everything within my power to recommit myself to her and to God.
Unfortunately, the thing that I didn’t realize was that infidelity never truly dies. The DNA of infidelity is sort of like the leaves on a tree. For a season the leaves on a tree dry up and fall to the ground, but the tree itself isn’t dead, which means that in the upcoming spring season new leaves will take the place of all of the old leaves that fell to the ground.
In my case, the leaves of infidelity had fallen out of my life. They fell to the ground and the season of being faithful and true to myself, and to my marriage, lasted for all of six years. Despite some drama here and there, those six years were very good years and I didn’t necessarily want them to end. But in life, all good things must come to an end and with me, after six years of doing the right thing, that season had come to an end and I had entered into a new season of Dogism.
This new season of Dogism would be different, though. Fortunately for me I had learned some things from my past. Sort of like rules that I would use to help me govern the seeds of infidelity that had sprung back to life.
Rule 1: Don’t be Sloppy!
I knew that venturing down that familiar path would mean that I would diligently have to cover my tracks and not make any mistakes. In fact, I couldn’t afford to make even one mistake or else my marriage would definitely end.
Rule 2: Never Snitch on Yourself!
John Gotti once said that if he were to rob a church and if the pope and the police were to catch him red-handed coming out of the church with the loot in his hand, and a steeple, and a cross sticking out of his ass that he would still never admit to robbing the church!
That John Gotti comment was always funny as hell to me but I came to understand the twisted wisdom in what he was saying about not snitching on yourself. It took some time for me to understand why snitching on myself was so stupid, but like any mistake, mistakes are designed to teach us something and we can eventually use that mistake to our benefit. During those six years that followed the revelation of my infidelity, there were many nights I spent consoling my wife and trying to do whatever I had to do in order to restore trust in our marriage. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t repeatedly want to kick myself for having opened my mouth and told on myself. Yeah, I knew that because I told on myself and hadn’t actually been caught cheating that it was a plus in proving my sincerity to do right. But at the same time, I came to realize that keeping what’s done in the dark-in the dark, actually helps avoid a whole lot of pain and misery!
Rule 3: Don’t Break Rules One and Two!
Chapter One
They say that fate is when preparation meets opportunity. Well, as fate would have it, I just happened to be in the city of Philadelphia promoting a new book that I had written for The Unit when I walked into the DNC bank that was located on the corner of Broad and Locust in downtown Philly, and I was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.
I was planning on just running into the bank to use the ATM but I looked to my left and I saw the most gorgeous bank teller that I had ever seen in my life. She was the spitting image of the singer Ciara, only she appeared to be a bit thicker. Her eyes were the first thing that had caught my eye when she looked up and glanced toward my direction. From a distance I could tell that she had either hazel or green eyes because they were just piercing right through me but in a very soft, non-menacing, non-seductive way, but still piercing.
Just as quickly as she had looked in my direction, her eyes then shifted away from me. She took her right hand and moved some of her long black hair away from her forehead and shifted it behind her right ear. Since it was slow in the bank, she lifted a book that she had in front of her and started to read it.
Her presence and the whole scene reminded me so much of when I first met my ex-mistress Toni, six years ago while driving down a Brooklyn street one sunny afternoon.
“Lance, just keep it moving, nigga,” I said to myself as I contemplated whether or not I should say something to the beautiful teller and make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I had just taken out four hundred dollars from the ATM, so I had gotten what I’d came for, but yet it was incredibly hard for me to just turn around and walk the hell out of the bank. It was like the teller was calling my name or something.
Lance, keep it moving! I said more forcefully to myself.
I counted my money to make sure that it was all there. After putting the money into the pocket of my Artful Dodger jeans I walked out of the bank. Every ounce of me began to burn with regret and with curiosity. I walked about half a block, and when I got to the corner, I waited for the green light to turn red so that I could cross the street.
The light turned red and the crowd of pedestrians crossed the street and went on about their business. But I stood still in my tracks on a freezing cold and blustery afternoon trying to decide if I should go back into the bank and talk to the girl that I had just seen.
“A’ight, so what I’ll do is just go in and introduce myself to her but I won’t ask for the number,” I said to myself, still trying to convince myself to do something that I knew I should just leave the hell alone.
Giving in to my weakness, I blew air out of my lungs, turned back around and headed back to DNC bank. The bank was surprisingly empty, considering that it was lunchtime and there were a bunch of office workers and businesses in that area. But that was cool, because it gave me more of an opportunity to
figure out just how I was gonna make my move.
The teller that I wanted to talk to had a customer at her window so I chilled for a minute near the customer service desk, where I calmly slid off my wedding ring and slipped it into my pocket before going in for the kill. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, but I was determined to be as smooth as possible.
After about two minutes or so she was finished helping the customer that was at her window and I wasted no time and I moved right in.
“Hello, how are you doing today?” she asked with a smile that could have lit up any dark room. She had perfect white teeth.
“Oh, I’m good. I’m cold as hell, but other than that I’m good.”
“Yeah, it is freezing outside. This weather is crazy. I hate the wintertime,” she added, trying to be as polite and friendly as possible.
I looked at the name tag that she had clipped to her blouse to see what her name was and she smiled and playfully pointed to her head and said, “umm ... up here, I’m here.”
“Oh, nah, I wasn’t looking at your chest, I was just looking at your name tag.”
She laughed and said, “I’m just messing with you, so how can I help you?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out five twenty-dollar bills and asked her if I could have one hundred dollars in singles.
“Sure. No problem.”
“So I see you’re reading My Woman His Wife,” I said to her while she counted the money.
She nodded her head to acknowledge my comment but she didn’t speak, looking as if she was trying not to lose her count. But as soon as she finished counting the money, she did reply.
“This book is so good it’s gonna get me fired. It’s so good! I love Anna J. That’s my girl!”
“Yeah, it’s a good book. The sex scenes are crazy.”
“Well, I’m hooked on it and so are all of my coworkers.”
“You know, I’m actually a writer too.”
The teller looked at me with twisted lips and a smirk on her face, “What books have you wrote? You’re not a writer.”
“No, I swear to God, I am. I wrote three books. Actually, that’s why I’m in Philly. I’m from New York but we got a book signing tonight and then a book release party for my new joint I did with The Unit Books.”
“The Unit? They doing books now too?”
“Yup.”
“Really, so what’s your name?”
“Lance Thomas, I wrote—”
“Stop lying! Lady’s Night, right?” she asked while cutting me off.
“Yeah,” I replied with a smile.
“I so don’t believe you. Oh my God! That’s one of my favorite books ever. Matter fact, let me see some ID.”
I started to laugh and I said again that it was really me.
“Okay, so if it is then let me see your ID.”
I reached into my wallet and I took out my driver’s license and showed it to her.
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe this,” she said while smiling from ear to ear.
“Mashonda Williams, that’s you, right?” I asked. The chemistry between me and Mashonda was off the meter—at least to me it was—but I was sure that she was feeling me just as much as I was feeling her.
She nodded her head, yes.
“See, I really was looking at your name tag.” I joked and said, “So, Mashonda, what are you doing later? Why don’t you come to the book signing for my new book; it’s gonna be at the Borders in the Gallery at seven o’clock.”
“Tonight? At the Gallery? That’s so funny, because I heard them talking about that on the morning show on the radio.”
“Yeah, it’s tonight. And I already know that you’re a reader, so if you don’t come I’m really gonna be offended.”
Mashonda laughed and she assured me that she would definitely come through with one of her homegirls.
I took one of her business cards that was on the counter and I took hold of the pen that was also on the counter. I wrote my name and cell phone number on the back of her card and gave it to her.
“I know where you work so if you don’t show up I’m gonna be back here tomorrow to stalk you and harass you. Here’s my number. Call me anytime. Okay?”
Mashonda smiled and she nodded her head. And then there was this awkward silence.
I broke the silence by saying, “My money. You never gave it to me.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m really trippin,’ ” she said while handing me the money. “And don’t be giving those strippers all your money either,” she joked.
“Guilty as charged,” I said, smiling.
Before turning to leave, I made a phone with my thumb and my index finger and silently mouthed the words call me.
Mashonda nodded her head and I continued walking out of the bank. And just like that I knew that I had Mashonda exactly where I wanted her.
Chapter Two
When I made it back to my hotel I went up to my room and laid down on the bed and flipped through the cable channels with the remote. It was barely three o’clock and I was bored as hell, trying to kill some time before heading over to the book signing later that evening. I decided to order some food and some Heineken’s from room service. As soon as I was done ordering, my wife called me.
“Hey, Nicole.”
“Hey, baby, I’m just checking up on you, letting you know that I miss you.”
I laughed into the phone. “You miss me already? I only been gone for one night. I guess I must be putting in down right, huh?”
“Shut up. You so stupid. So what are you up to?”
“Nothing, I’m just bored as hell. I ain’t even really hungry but I ordered room service to try and kill some time.”
“So you just eating to eat?”
“It’s all good. The publishing company is covering the tab, so why shouldn’t I eat?”
“You are too much.”
“So what’s up with you? You had to go to court today?”
“No, I’m just in the office working on this motion and it’s killing me. I wanna get outta here by five but I know I probably won’t leave here until seven. I just want to get this outta my hair. So listen, what are you doing later, after the signing?”
“Well, I’m gonna go to the release party and then I’m bouncing.”
“Oh, okay, so you’ll be home tonight at what, probably around four or five in the morning?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Okay, so be safe. And remember, LL has his game in the morning.”
“Oh, I forgot about that. At eleven, right? Yeah, okay, I’ll definitely be back by then.”
“Okay, so I’ll let you go. You being good, right?”
“Yeah, Nicole, of course.”
“I’m just checking, you know that’s part of my job. Okay, so be good. Call me when you heading out no matter how late it is. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
With that, I hung up, and I knew that Nicole’s only reason for calling me was to ask me if I was being good and to remind me to be good. And for the most part I can’t say that I blame her. I mean, after all, I had cheated on her back in the days when I was just a lowly blue-collar worker, so now that I was a bestselling author, travelling from state to state and going to party after party without her, I was sure that there were constantly thoughts in the back of her head that made her wonder if I could be faithful through all of the potential temptation.
And to my credit, so far I had been faithful. I can’t say that it was easy but I was holding up. My ex-mistress Toni had moved on and she was now married to a successful record producer, so that helped me stay on the right track. My other mistress, the stripper Scarlett, moved miles away to Atlanta, had two kids by two different dudes, and she got fat as a house, so by default she removed herself from my lust radar.
But as far as I was concerned, Toni and Scarlett were old news to me. It was like a been-there, conquered-that type of thing. Everyday I was tempted to conquer something new,
but so far I had held that temptation in check. Unfortunately, I knew that when it came to Mashonda, she represented something fresh, something new and something exciting. I had to conquer her just to satisfy that urge that was in me.
Mashonda was gonna be a problem for me. I knew she was, but like a dumb-ass I was willing to take whatever chance I needed to take in order to satisfy that urge that I had in me to get with her.
Chapter Three
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, I had been escorted from my hotel to Borders bookstore in the Gallery Mall for the launch of The Unit Books. I was accompanied by the fellow The Unit writers: Angie Santiago and Lameek and the superstar rappers Fifth Ward and Purple Hayes.
All day long, all of the Philly hip-hop stations had been promoting the event at the Gallery, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see the mob of people that were in the mall trying to get inside the bookstore. Of course, I knew that Fifth Ward’s name was what had brought out all the throngs of people, but it didn’t matter because by default I would be receiving a lot of the attention as well.
Security managed to get us safely into the bookstore and the managers of the bookstore took us to our table and instructed us on how things were going to proceed. And as soon as we sat down and began to autograph books for the massive line of customers, my cell phone began vibrating. I looked down and I saw that I had a text from Mashonda.
Hi Lance, this is Mashonda, the girl you met in the bank today. If you can, please call me back at this number 267-999-5454?
Although I was preoccupied signing books, I wasted no time and called her right back.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lance. Listen, you didn’t tell me that all of these people were gonna be here. Security is telling me that unless I had already purchased a book from earlier in the day that I can’t get in. They saying I need some kind of bracelet or a tag or something in order to get in.”