by Teri Woods
Then she passed out in his arms.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. What do you think Jay’s real intentions were when he offered Gena help at the gas station?
2. Do you think Gena was too trusting when Jay offered to keep her safe?
3. Was Bria’s behavior due to adolescence or blatant disrespect of Gah Git?
4. Do you think Gena was careless with the way she spent Quadir’s money? Would you have done anything differently?
5. Was Jay justified in killing members of the Junior Mafia, even after he found out the truth? Or do you think he was on a power trip?
6. Why do you think Champagne was so willing to help Jay, even after the way he had treated her?
7. Do you think Rasun snitched to say his family or himself?
8. If you were a police officer, would you have joined the plot to take Quadir’s money? Or do you think they should have left well enough alone?
9. Do you think Gena could have done more to prevent her pregnancy? Was she genuinely happy, or do you think she was trying to make up for her loss of Quadir?
10. Are you happy that the crew got off in the end? Or do you think they should have gone down for their drug crimes?
11. Who do you think was following Gena in the BMW?
DEAR READERS
I couldn’t believe it when Grand Central Publishing came to me about writing a sequel to True to the Game. The first thing that ran through my mind was, how? How do I write the sequel to a book that has been deemed a classic? How will I keep the spirit of my characters alive? How will I write a Part II that everyone will love just as much as they loved the first?
These were the questions that soared through my head when I thought about you, my readers. I am happy to know that you are just as thrilled to be thrown back into the lives of your favorite characters, as I have been to write about them.
I hope you enjoyed your book, and as always, thank you for your support.
Truly,
Teri Woods
AN EXCERPT FROM
TRUE TO THE GAME III
Available July 2008
wherever books are sold
Gena slowly tried to open her eyes, feeling pain beyond belief throughout her entire body. She was sore and she was bruised from her head to her toes. She looked around the room, not quite realizing where she was. Her head, left arm, rib cage, and left thigh were all bandaged. She could barely open her bruised and blackened eyes, but she managed to open them far enough to see around the room. At first she thought she was in a hospital, lying in a hospital bed. But she wasn’t. The room’s décor was unlike any hospital décor that she had ever seen. The more she was able to open her eyes, the more she realized she wasn’t in the hospital. She was in a room, a quiet room, but she did not recognize anything. Where am I? She decided to make finding the answer to that question her life’s mission for the moment.
With great effort, accompanied by great pain, Gena rose from the king-sized bed that she had been lying on. There was a breeze blowing through an open window, the soft silk panels billowing gently with the air. She could smell the sweet fragrance of flowers wafting through the window. If only I could make it to the window. She mustered up as much strength as she could, desperately wanting to know where she was.
Gena clasped one of the bed posts and made her way to the bottom of the four-post bed. From there she threw her wobbly legs forward and grabbed hold of a nearby accent chair. She braced herself using the arms of the chair, and then carefully made her way around it until she was able to grab hold of a nearby dresser. Using the dresser as a support, she slowly made her way to the open window, where she was finally able to peer outside and get a glimpse of her surroundings.
She was on the second floor of what appeared to be a home. She could see very large homes all around her. High-pitched slate, granite-tiled roofs, and well-manicured backyards with massive swimming pools and tennis courts filled her view. She peered down into the backyard just below her, and found an equally large swimming pool and adjacent tennis court, along with the fragrant garden that had attracted her attention initially. The azaleas, roses, Russian sage, gardenias, and other flora spread throughout the landscape, painted it in rich hues of blue, red, white, yellow, green, and purple. Where the hell am I?
Gena turned towards the dresser, and pulled open the first drawer, only to find it empty. She moved on to the second drawer, only to find it in the same state. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth dresser drawers were also empty. She was in a guest bedroom, and there were no secrets kept here. She turned and spied two doors on the opposite side of the room. One she surmised to be a closet, while the other would have to be the guest bathroom. Hoping that the closet or the medicine cabinet would reveal something, she painfully made her way across the room towards them.
Gena opened the first door to find a row of plastic clothes hangers facing her. There was nothing on the shelves, nothing stored at the bottom of the closet, nothing period. Disappointed, she turned her attention to the next door. She had been correct in her assumptions, as the second door was to the guest bathroom. Gena braced herself on the door handle and stumbled inside. She held on to the bathroom sink and yanked open the medicine cabinet. Nothing.
“Dammit!” Gena cursed. She was growing frustrated with each passing moment. She was in a luxurious prison, all alone and wounded. She couldn’t run away if she tried. Her entire body was one big ache and pain. Think, Gena, she told herself. Think. What do you remember? What do you remember?
Gena braced herself and slowly made her way back to the massive poster bed, where she lay down again. Where am I and who brought me here? She started to think back and remembered Jerrell. She opened the bathroom door and there it all was, the rope, everything he had in the bathroom. Jerrell had taken her to a motel room where he had tried to kill her. She remembered fighting him back. Yes, I remember, but then what? What happened? Did I trip or fall or something? No, I was running for the door when he grabbed me, but what happened next? At first Gena could not recall, then she slowly began to remember. The gun. Someone had a gun and someone saved me.
The question now going through Gena’s mind was who had done the shooting. Jerrell, he shot someone. He was trying to kill me and now he must have me here, holding me hostage. What the hell does he think he’s doing? It doesn’t even make sense. If he was going to kill me, why didn’t he just go ahead and do it? No, that doesn’t make sense either. He was trying to kill me. Someone else must have saved me, but who? None of this makes any sense at all.
Nothing added up. She was bandaged but had no idea who bandaged her up. She was somewhere, but didn’t have a clue as to where and she was definitely in someone’s house, but again, had no idea whose. She had been in and out of consciousness, but had no idea for how long. Someone’s obviously been taking care of me, she thought to herself. Someone had bandaged her up, given her medicine, fed her, and kept her clean. Someone had expended a lot of effort to heal her and care for her. But who?
Gena leaned back and closed her eyes, and her tears began to fall. Her mind had granted her an additional memory from that night, one that she knew could not be true. She had dreamed that Quadir was alive. She was barely conscious, but it all seemed so real at the time. Her Quadir had rescued her from that monster, and carried her off to safety. If only it could be true.
Gena clutched her stomach and curled into a ball on the bed. It was then that she remembered the visit with her OB/GYN.
“Congratulations, you’re going to have a baby.”
A baby, my baby. She couldn’t help but think of the unborn child she was carrying as she rubbed her stomach. She was in a dire predicament. That’s right, I was going to tell him about the baby, she thought to herself, remembering how nervous she was and how she couldn’t wait to hear what he would say. She had been hoping that Jerrell would be pleased with her and happy for the both of them. She was so ready to be with him and be a family. How could I have been so dumb? He didn�
��t love me, he didn’t even care about me. He was trying to kill me. Gena couldn’t believe it. She was carrying the child of a man who had tried to kill her, fantasizing about a man who had been dead now for almost a year. I can’t believe Jerrell has me here. It’s only a matter of time before he comes back to finish me off. My only chance will be to try and escape, go get my money, and get out of town. That’s what Jerrell wanted, Quadir’s money. He never wanted to be with me. He could have cared less. That reality brought a tear to Gena and she realized at that moment that Jerrell had only been pretending to love and care about her. How was I so stupid that I didn’t see him for what he really was? I can’t believe he was after my money. Gena just sat on the edge of the bed thinking about everything that had happened, unable to justify anything and unwilling to believe that it was all happening to her. I wonder where he is. Shit, where the hell am I? And how long have I been here? She needed to get in touch with Gah Git. She needed to talk to her grandmother and tell her where she was and let her know that she was all right. Gah Git would be worried half to death. Poor Gah Git, I hope she’s okay. Gena had already looked around the room and there was no phone. Someone has to help me. I need to be rescued. But rescued from who? Whoever it is that bandaged my wounds, fed me, and took care of me? Yes, I definitely need to be rescued, especially if that person is Jerrell.
The door to the room cracked open and Gena expected the worst. Instead, she was greeted by a plump and friendly housekeeper.
“Oh, señorita, you’re awake!” the housekeeper told her. “Oh, they will be so pleased! Mr. Smith is about to have breakfast on the porch. I can bring your breakfast out there so that you can dine with him. He will be so pleased, señorita! It is so good to see that you are awake now!”
“Mr. Smith? Who is Mr. Smith?” Gena asked.
“Why, that is Señorita Hopkins’s boyfriend,” Consuela explained. “Señor Smith is the one who rescued you and brought you here.”
“Rescued me?” Gena was confused. She shook her head to rid herself of the cobwebs inside. Who is Mr. Smith? Gena needed to see this Mr. Smith. She needed to talk to him and she needed him to fill in all of the blanks from that night. What had happened? Where was Jerrell? What was Mr. Smith doing there? Why did he bring her here? She had a million and one questions that needed answering.
Gena threw the covers off of her legs and began to rise. Consuela rushed to her, and helped her stand.
“No, wait here,” Consuela told her. “Señorita Hopkins brought something for you, just for when this day would come.”
Consuela rushed out of the room, and returned seconds later with a metal walker. She placed the walker in front of Gena and then clasped Gena’s arm.
“I’ll help you to the elevator and then to the porch. I’ll bring you breakfast out in the garden.”
“Thank you so much,” Gena told her. “You are very kind.”
Consuela helped Gena to the elevator, where they rode it to the first floor. The doors to the elevator opened, revealing a massive two-story family room. The dimensions made Gena gasp.
The room was forty by sixty, with a ten-foot-diameter wrought-iron chandelier. Antique furnishings and expensive décor filled the room. The art and tapestries that hung on the wall was all original, while the tables all looked to be hand-carved with great care and detail.
“Who lives here?” Gena asked.
“Señorita Hopkins,” Consuela told her. “She is at work right now. Señor Smith is out on the lanai.”
Gena followed as Consuela led her across the living room, out of the large double patio doors, and onto the lanai. A gentleman was seated across the lanai, facing away from them, looking over the swimming pool. She could see that he was dressed in all white, and reading a newspaper. A table with a pitcher of orange juice was next to him, and she could see that he had already poured a glass.
“Señor Smith,” Consuela called out to him. “Look who has awakened.”
Gena watched as the stranger rose from the chair and turned to her. Consuela had to catch her.
“Señorita, are you all right?” Consuela asked.
It can’t be, it can’t be. Gena shook her head.
“I’ll take it from here,” he told Consuela.