Power of the Pen

by Xyla Turner

  My cock started to harden again.

  What in the actual fuck?

  “That’s the second best news I heard all day?” I moved her hair out of her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she smiled, “But only with you, Zach. I don’t share, and I don’t want anyone else touching you or me.”

  Turning over, so I was on top of her, I laughed. “Don’t you worry, nobody touches what’s mine. I guarantee that.”

  “So, what’s the next chapter?” She asked.

  “I think that chapter is done. This might be a series and we’ll just make guest appearances in the other books.”

  She burst out laughing, “You are such a writer.”

  “Yeah, well your short story indicates that you are an exceptionally talented writer yourself.”

  “Don’t just say that, Zach. I--”

  “I already called a publisher that was trying to recruit me and told him they should check you out. Just need your go ahead.” I cut her off.

  “What? Are you serious?” Her mouth was wide open.

  “Yes, love. You have talent and that needs to be shared, baby.”

  “Why can’t I just go independent like you?” She asked.

  “You could, but with the things you want to do, it’s best to be on the map and not have to go through the bump and grind that the Indies have to endure. You already have a blog that is a platform to advertise your book. You have connections within the author world. Any publisher would be happy to have you. Why go through the hassle if you don’t need to.”

  “I guess you are right.” She smiled. “You really like the story?”

  “Yes, of course, I love the story. The arrogant man gets the sassy lady.” Staring at her lips, “Is that us?”

  “Sort of, but not really. I’m not that sassy.”

  “But I’m that arrogant?”

  “Oh yeah,” She added quickly, as I laughed and pecked her lips. “So, no chapter, but a series.”

  “Yup. This book ends now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, I love you and you love me. The rest will be in the epilogue.”

  “Such a writer.” She sighed.

  “We possess the power when we have the pen.”

  “This is true.”

  Epilogue

  Power of the Pen was published three months later with the revisions, additions, and the proper editing that Zach required. The final copy, the copy that was sent to Lauren via special delivery, had a note that said, read the Note from the Author in the back of the book. There, in bold black letters, it stated.

  Will you marry me, love?

  Lauren cried on the spot but was almost upset because Zach wasn’t there to share that moment with her. She heard a horn honk, so she went to open the door and there was Zach, on the same steps they ate Christmas dinner together in silence, but on one knee. Her brothers, her mom, Gab, Jeffrey, and Charlie were behind him, all smiles.

  “Love,” Zach called.

  Tears started pouring down her face faster, as everyone became blurry.

  “Zach,” She whispered.

  “Marry me. Make this the happiest moment and me the happiest man.”

  She nodded her head up and down.

  “Is that a yes?” Whit called.

  “Yeah, what is that?” Kendall chimed in.

  “Use your words honey, the man is one his knees.” Her mom added.

  Zach knew what it meant because he jumped up and picked her up and swung her around on the landing.

  “Yes,” she whispered through tears and hiccups.

  Zach buried his head in her neck and murmured, “Never letting you go.”

  Everyone cheered, whistled and hollered their congratulations. They made so much noise; the neighbors came out to join in on the celebration. Zach took everybody to a beautiful restaurant in Upper Marlboro as an impromptu engagement party, and they danced the night away. Lauren danced so much, not only did she have to come out of her heels, but she was knocked out in the truck, and Zach had to carry her to bed at his place. It was a night to remember and one that neither would ever forget.

  ***

  A few months later, Lauren received a call from the local radio station that they wanted to do an interview about her blog and her upcoming book release. Zach encouraged her to do this because she felt it was too much fame at once. He assured her that he would keep her balanced and in check so it wouldn’t go to her head.

  Zach had other things in store, when he told his publicist that Lauren was interested in being an anchor, so the interview was not only for her blog and book but to see how she did on television as well. She rocked it and blew it out of the water. She was engaging, funny, and responsive. Intelligence radiated through, and a couple of weeks after her interview, she received another invitation to apply for an open position that needed to be filled.

  At first, she thought Zach was responsible, but he assured her, that it was not him. This was her dream, and it was all unfolding right in front of her eyes- Zach, book, dream job, and a healthier lifestyle.

  This was everything!

  Zach continued to publish under his pen name, Z. Hays. His readers and audience had multiplied with a new-found appreciation for erotica, BDSM, and sexual awareness, but especially with his union with MzJames. His popularity, even as an indie artist, led to him being on the USA Today Bestsellers list. When that news came out, Lauren planned an entire event for him at The Em. He thought it was going to be just the two of them, but she had called all of the authors, co-workers, clients and disguised it as if it were a promotion at work, instead of for his writing. When they got home, she pulled out the big surprise. A paddle, furry handcuffs, an anal plug, and a vibrator. Zach enjoyed himself that evening, not only sexually, but also exploring and exposing Lauren to this new world with only him. Reinforcing to her that she would only ever be his, and in his writer’s mind, that was his happily ever after.

  The END

  Thank you for reading Power of the Pen. I hope you enjoyed this one. As you continue to follow my work, you’ll see some slight changes. My motto is to #SwitchTheStyleUp, so Xyla World will include many things, but always my alpha men and sassy women. I hope you will continue to stick with me as I take this journey. Join my mailing list, follow me on Facebook and Twitter to stay up to date.

  KEEP READING for a Sneak Peek of Across the Tracks!

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  Across the Tracks (Sneak Peek)

  15 years later –

  RICH:

  Why his father felt the need for him to be a public defender was beyond him. He hated representing low-lives. Mostly hated representing the same drug dealers who were caught over and over again, then had the nerve to feel like the world owed them something. Hello, stop selling drugs, dumb ass. Get an honest fucking job. His father was a Philadelphia State Representative and he represented parts of South Philly, where they grew up. The plan was for him, Rich Jr., to become a State Senator and represent other parts of South Philly, to keep it ‘together’. The best way, according to State Representative Richard Wells, Sr., was to be a public defender because a lawyer working in the private sector would be frowned upon. Especially if he decided to run for the Senate seat or any seat for that matter. South Philadelphia was made of hard working people and specifically blue collars workers. They did not always embrace white collars and especially those that rubbed it in their faces. So even amongst your own kind, one could be considered an outcast.

  Richard Wells, Sr. was a smart man and knew the best way to work the system. He sent Richard Jr., now Rich to the Pennsylvania State University (Penn State) to study Political Science. Once he finished undergrad, his father paid for him to go to law school at the University of Pennsylvania (U Penn). These were the best schools that offered the most elite programs, according to Richard Sr. They were also his alma ma
ters. It could have been perceived that he received special privileges and if a party was busted or things got out of hand, he was a politician’s son and his father contributed significantly to both universities. Rich didn’t get into much trouble because while his father was accommodating and would use his power to make things go away, he also would provide serious punishment to his son when he was young. The punching stopped when he got to college, but the other disciplines started if he messed up. Cutting off his credit cards, disabling his car, having it towed, showing up after his classes to tell him he was a failure and didn’t deserve the family name or legacy. Rich tried to stay on the straight and narrow because his father was more lethal than anyone would ever know.

  He often wondered how his mom dealt with him or if the father he knew was a result of his mother’s death. Rich often thought he was that way because his mom died so early leaving him with a son to raise alone, therefore he would take his frustrations out on him. He had only seen pictures of his mom at his aunt's house because his dad did not have them posted anywhere. The older he grew, the more he realized how much of a problem this was. The only thing he knew about his mom was what his Aunt Anna had told him. She was beautiful, humble and a world changer. Her passion was education, but she stopped working when she married his father. She had no siblings and her family was from North Carolina and migrated to Philadelphia, which was years before she met Richard Sr.

  His father never talked about his mother. Rich could not recall a time, when he uttered her name or even acknowledged that she existed. When he was young, Rich made the mistake of telling his father that he wanted to visit his mom’s family in North Carolina. He had bruises for two weeks after that suggestion. That meant he also never recognized that his mother existed. At least in that house. Rich’s only hope was that, his mom, Margaret Wells, was at peace and no longer in pain from the cancer that took her so soon.

  ******

  Court Room 5

  Rich put his papers in a folder and stood tall, waiting for his next client. This boy was picked up for stealing food from a corner store. He mentally shook his head. Some things just did not make sense to him. Rich thought he probably took some candy when he just did not want to spend the dollar. The judge picked up the gavel and banged it on the desk.

  “Next,” he croaked.

  In walked a Hispanic looking teenage boy, who did not look any older than 14. He was accompanied by a tall black woman with brown skin, full lips, arched eyebrows, long lashes, and shoulder length straight hair. Rich estimated she was around a size eight or ten, had an impressive rack and a round ass that looked perfect in that pencil skirt. Everything on her looked good; the stockings, high heels, off white blouse that loosely fit her and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Her spring jacket was draped over her arm and she walked in with purpose. She probably wasn’t related to the boy, but he could see that the boy trusted her because he reached out for her hand, which she quickly grabbed as they walked down the aisle of the courtroom.

  Rich looked down at her hips, which despite that loose blouse, he could see swaying back and forth flawlessly. The woman looked like she was floating down the aisle. They finally reached him and he pulled his eyes away from her hips. What was wrong with him? He held out his hand and said, “Hello, you must be Ricardo?” The boy nodded. “I’m Mr. Wells, your lawyer.”

  He felt the woman’s eyes on him. “So, petty theft, corner store, what do you plead?” Rich said in a low voice.

  The boy looked at the woman and asked, “Guilty?”

  “You need to explain the circumstance,” she nudged her head towards Rich.

  Rich chimed in, “No, I don’t need the details, right now I just need to know what to tell the judge. Guilty or not?”

  The woman’s eyes had focused on him, before she said, “What? You do need to hear the circumstance because the judge needs to understand the case, so he can receive some leniency.”

  Rich’s patience, at that moment, started to run short with the combination of her questioning him on how to do his job and realizing she was a sympathizer. “Listen, ma’am they all have excuses why they did what they did. However, right now, I’m going to assume he did it because he has an excuse and right now, you are going to let me do my job.”

  She reeled back as if he had smacked her in the face. Then she pulled Ricardo behind her and scolded, “You must have lost your damn mind. One, for thinking you could talk to me like that and two, for not taking your clients,” she emphasized, “concerns and situations seriously. You will not be representing him and,” she picked up his card from the table and said, “I’ll be sure to spread the word about your bias about anyone like him. Since they,” she held up both her hands to make air-quotes, “all have excuses.”

  He grimaced at her words. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to, was his question. Then she walked passed him and said to the judge, “Your honor, my apologies, but Ricardo here,” she pointed to the boy, “is going to need other representation. Mr. Wells needs to attend to his other clientele.”

  “Who are you?” the judge asked.

  “My name is Lisa Johnson, I’m Ricardo’s teacher,” she said.

  The judge looked at Rich and asked, “Are you not able to represent the accused?”

  Rich was so shocked by the last two minutes, he was not sure what he should say. “I’m able to represent this client, if HE,” Rich emphasized, “would like me to. However, I will respect their wishes and pass this case along.”

  The judge nodded. “Fine, let’s reschedule for next week.”

  He banged the gavel on the desk and said, “Next.”

  The lady grabbed the boy, as she turned to march out of the courtroom. Rich knew he was bright red now, how dare she embarrass him like that in the courtroom, in front of his superiors and peers. That was one thing he didn’t stand for, so he stormed after them to confront the crazy black bitch.

  The doors banged closed behind him and he said through his teeth, “Listen here, you –”, he caught himself.

  She whirled around, glaring at him. Lisa motioned for her student to go towards the stairs. He immediately obeyed because he must have sensed it was about to get ugly. She kept her glare and spoke through her teeth in a low menacing voice, “What, I’m a what? Blackie, Darkie, Nigger bitch? Which one were you going for today?” she asked.

  He was shocked at her candor. Then he said, “Well I was just going to say bitch, but you finished the others for me.”

  She walked closer to him and he could smell her perfume. She smelled delicious like he could eat her, but she looked dangerous, like he should cover his balls or his face. “Wow,” she laughed, “some things never change. You are still the same ignoramus you’ve always been.”

  What the hell was she talking about? He didn’t know her from anywhere. She looked faintly familiar, but he could not place where he could possibly know her.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked with a scowl on his face.

  “I’m talking about you and your prejudice ways. You are still ignorant. Why the hell would you be a public defender? You are setting these people up for failure because you don’t care one bit about them. This is just a step for you to something bigger.” She looked utterly disgusted with him.

  Rich had seen that same look many times from his father, when he messed up. What she thought about him should not have mattered, but the way she read him like a book during a five-minute interaction made him feel vulnerable.

  Was he so transparent?

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think about me, I do my job and I do it well –” he started.

  “No, Richard,” she emphasized his name like he was a boy, “You do a job, but you don’t do it well. You will never do it well until you give a fuck. But don’t you worry. I will make it my life’s mission to make sure you do go into private practice because this.” She circled her finger around the air then pointed to Ricardo, “isn’t for people the likes of you.”
<
br />   Ten minutes ago, he couldn’t have agreed with her more, but now he was upset that she just called him out. Who the hell was she? He glared at her and she turned her lip at him like she smelled something bad and slowly sashayed away. It was like she knew he’d be looking at her ass. Which he was, mesmerized by each sway of her hips.

  ******

  LISA:

  She knew exactly who he was when he opened his mouth. 15 years ago, at the Over the Tracks community event, he had pushed her down at the end of the basketball game which started the brawl that was heard around Richard Allen. Lisa was known as the fierce up and coming basketball star who put boys to shame. Josh and her dad were committed to making Lisa better and better at the sport. She went on to play in high school, then she was recruited to play for Drexel University. Everybody around the neighborhood was so proud of her because they felt like they were a part of her process. Some of the girls didn’t like her because she always had the guy’s attention or admiration. This caused her not to hang out with many girls, but she had a few loyal friends. Jessica and Michelle were the closest to her since she knew them since high school.

  After Drexel, her father did not want her coming back home to live. He said she should be out on her own. Therefore he and Josh had set to revamp a house that was on sale for nearly nothing, but needed a lot of repairs. Dad suggested that she and Josh buy it, so they would own property. It made sense because Josh owned a hardware store and Dad was a construction worker. Her dad also worked as a plumbing technician instructor at a local trade school and had his own private business that Josh helped him with on the side.

  Education was Lisa’s major, so right after school, she started working for her old high school, where she was welcomed with open arms. After a few years, she joined the board of the No School to Prison Pipeline Foundation (NSPPF) and now she served as Chair of the Board. She received the journalist job because Lisa would always comment and ‘write the editor’ about various topics that related to education, social justice and the community. This included long letters, debatable comments and post that impressed someone, so the Philadelphia Daily Newspaper made her an offer. She gladly accepted and had been writing as a freelancer for a few years. Her column was called, ‘Real Talk with Lisa.’