1 Night Stand:
Love Sisters Series
Amaleka McCall
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1 - Harmony
Chapter 2 - Melody
Chapter 3 - Lyric
Chapter 4 - Harmony
Chapter 5 - Melody
Chapter 6 - Lyric
Chapter 7 - Harmony
Chapter 8 - Melody
Chapter 9 - Lyric
Chapter 10 - Harmony
Chapter 11 - Melody
Chapter 12 - Lyric
Chapter 13 - Harmony
Chapter 14 - Melody
Chapter 15 - Lyric
Chapter 16 - Harmony
Chapter 17 - Melody
Chapter 18 - Lyric
Chapter 19 - Harmony
Chapter 20 - Melody
Chapter 21 - Lyric
Chapter 22 - Harmony
Chapter 23 - Melody
Chapter 24 - Lyric
Chapter 25 - Harmony
Chapter 26 - Melody
Chapter 27 - Lyric
Chapter 28 - Harmony
Urban Books, LLC
97 N 18th Street
Wyandanch, NY 11798
1 Night Stand: Love Sisters Series
© 2016 Amaleka McCall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62286-759-2
ISBN: 978-1-6228-6755-4
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Chapter 1
Harmony
The wind whipped over Harmony’s face so hard it snatched her breath. Her thighs burned and her arms moved one up, one down, like a track star heading for the winner’s ribbon. Her breath came out so hard and fast it made her lips dry. Her chest heaved up and down, and her shirt stuck to her sweat-slicked skin.
“Ah!” A scream escaped her mouth when she realized she couldn’t go any farther. A flash of panic caused her to double over and dry heave.
“Oh my God.” Harmony panted, eyeing the obstacle that blocked her path. She whipped her head around and backhanded the snot running from her nose.
“Shit.” She swallowed hard, listening to the footsteps behind her progress from rapid taps to thunderous thuds. Harmony turned back to the tall chain link fence. More rapid footfalls closed in behind her, hot on her heels.
Harmony saw the shadowy silhouette of a monstrous figure. She had no choice. She lifted her aching legs and climbed the fence.
With raggedy, jagged puffs of air escaping her lips, Harmony jumped down from the fence and rushed to a dumpster. She squatted behind it, hoping her pursuer wouldn’t find her. The strong smell of rotting garbage and rusted metal assaulted her nostrils. Chills covered her body. She clenched her lips, trying to slow the sound of her panting.
After a few seconds, Harmony heard the footsteps slow. She could hear gravel crunching underfoot a few feet away. Her first instinct was to bolt, until suddenly she noticed the black, shiny shoes. A whimper bubbled out of her mouth. Her hands flew up to her lips. Her body trembled. The feet moved slowly at first, and then faster. Desperate to escape, Harmony crawled to her left, the feet heading straight for her. She saw the glint from the metal gun in the stranger’s hand.
The first booming shot sent a deafening pain to the center of Harmony’s ear that radiated through her skull. Her hands flew up to her ears. The gun sounded off again, and this time she fell into a black abyss.
* * *
Harmony jolted awake. Breathing heavily, she reached over to grab her cell phone from her nightstand. Squinting, she scanned her bedroom, making sure she had been dreaming. The loud ringing cut through the silence of her bedroom again.
Who could be calling me?
Harmony’s head pounded and her heart raced from being yanked out of her sleep. No one ever called her at that time of the morning. UNKNOWN flashed on her cell phone screen.
“Hello?” she groaned into the phone. “Hello?”
Harmony heard the male voice, but with her mind still fuzzy with sleep, she could not register the speaker’s identity. Harmony forced herself up from her pillow, wearily threw her legs over the side of the bed, and sat up straight.
“Hello?”
Harmony opened her eyes wider when she finally recognized the caller.
“Murray?” Harmony rasped, swiping her hand over her face to make sure she wasn’t still running through a nightmare.
Murray Fleischer was a longtime associate of Harmony’s mother, Ava Love. Why would Murray be calling me in the wee hours of the morning?
“Yes. Murray Fleischer here. Harmony?” he replied in his nasally, New Jersey Jew accent.
He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. Harmony closed her eyes. Suddenly, her last interaction with her mother flashed across her thoughts:
“Leave then, you coward! You always were a coward, just like your no-good-ass father,” Ava spat.
Harmony swayed on her feet like she’d taken a boxer’s uppercut. Her eyes hooded over with contempt and her nostrils flared. She moved a few steps closer to her mother with her right pointer finger jutting out in front of her.
“Coward? Coward? Too bad the real coward is you, Ava Love, since you chose to keep my father from me all of my life because you were too afraid to face the fact that you failed. Too afraid to admit that you got fucked and left because all you ever were was second string. Second string singer. Second string mistress. Second string daughter. Never number one in anyone’s eyes,” Harmony hissed, turning on her heels, set to storm out the door.
Ava balked, and her face flushed red. “You’re nothing without me. Nothing without your sister,” Ava screamed at Harmony’s back. “You’re never going to be shit but a nappy-headed wanna-be who was the mistake that ruined my whole life.” Ava’s voice cracked.
Harmony paused. Her hands curled into fists on their own. Every muscle in her body stiffened.
A cold chill shot down Harmony’s back now. She shook her head and cleared her mind of the memory. She hadn’t spoken to Ava in three long years.
“I–I’m sorry, Murray. Can you repeat that?” Harmony stuttered, still confused by his call.
Murray let out a phlegm-filled cough and cleared his raspy throat. “Harmony? Harmony Love, is this you?” he replied.
A flash of panic overcame her. She darted her eyes over to the cable box; it was 4:20 in the morning. The pre-dawn light from the window cast an eerie glow over her bedroom.
“Yes, Murray, it’s me.”
He coughed again. This time it sounded like he was struggling to catch his breath. Old age had finally caught up to him.
Listening to Murray’s labored breathing, Harmony pictured his beady eyes, wrinkled olive-colored skin, dead-rat-looking toupee, and his hooked Ichabod Crane nose. Harmony bit down into her bottom lip. She couldn’t help the feeling of resentment that sprang up inside of her. Murray had been a part of her life when everything had gone awry. Harmony often blamed Murray for the events that transpired, but he certainly wasn’t the only culprit.
“Oh, Harm . . . I’m so glad to know this is really your number. I thought I was going to have a hard time finding you. Ava Love really had high hopes for you. She really loved you. As her eldest, she always bragged about you. You know, despite everything, I always knew you were the smartest one. . . . ” Murray rambled.
Harmony’s jaw stiffened and her nostrils flared. Murray’s fake small talk had always irritated her. It was always a part of his game.He’d talk you into a brown paper bag if you let him, and then he’d steal everything you had while your head was covered. In Harmony’s assessment, Murray was a low-life thief who’d helped Ava destroy her life.
“Murray, what do you want? Is it Lyric? Is she okay?” Harmony finally cut him off.
They didn’t need to exchange pleasantries, and he didn’t need to go on and on about how much her mother cared about her. They both knew he was full of it.
Murray was silent for what seemed like an eternity. He let out another long sigh and a short snort. Harmony’s face crumpled into a frown.
Is he crying?
Harmony’s fingertips grew cold as she gripped the phone tighter with each passing moment. Her stomach quivered in anticipation of the bad news.
“Murray? Out with it. Is my baby sister okay?”
“Well, this is about Ava,” Murray drawled. Harmony’s shoulders eased with relief.
“What about her?” Harmony grumbled. She closed her eyes and sighed. What evil thing did Ava do now? And why would it matter to me? Harmony’s temples throbbed harder.
“Harmony, you were the first person I called.” Murray blew out another windstorm of wet, crackling breath, choking on his words. “I really didn’t know who else to call. You know your sisters are both . . . ” Murray tiptoed around the subject.
Just the mention of her sisters made Harmony’s stomach tighten. Does he realize it is four o’clock in the morning?
“Please, Murray, just tell me what’s going on,” Harmony interrupted, wishing he would put them both out of their misery. “Is Ava sick? Has there been an accident? What?”
Murray belched out a sob and finally mustered up the courage and got straight to the point. “She’s gone, sweetheart,” he croaked. “Couple of days now, but we just found her.”
Harmony felt like a brick had fallen off the top of a skyscraper and hit her on the top of her head. “What?” she asked in an almost inaudible tone. “What . . . what do you mean, gone?”
The words caught in Harmony’s throat like fish in a net. She shook her head slowly, the weight of comprehension heavy on her mind. Her heart pounded through her silk nightgown. Harmony was suddenly on her feet, moving unsteadily. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped. Her bottom lip trembled and she had to fight to keep her teeth from chattering.
“How?” Harmony managed.
Murray was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. Just that fast, her thoughts had drifted. With a flash of clarity, it occurred to her that Ava didn’t have her new contact information. How did Murray get my number? Harmony shook her head and rid the suspicious thoughts from her mind. Paranoia and suspicion had become her natural defense mechanisms, but this was not the time or place.
Murray provided Harmony with what little details he had: Ava was dead in the house, there was no cause of death yet, and it had been at least two days before anyone had found her. He didn’t know if she had been drinking again or on her usual cocktail of pills; however, the police said the house was a left in a mess.
Harmony felt like she was slipping off the slope of a tall mountain. With tears rimming her eyes, she looked down at her husband sleeping soundly. His chest rose and fell peacefully. He was oblivious to the chaos of her thoughts and emotions. In that moment, Harmony envied him.
“Murray,” Harmony said, her voice unsteady. “Thank you for calling me. I know things weren’t . . . I know Ava and me had . . .” The tears finally rolled down her face. Harmony cleared her throat and sucked in her breath.
“I appreciate you not letting me find out from the television or media. I will be there as soon as I can. I’ll take care of her arrangements,” she promised.
Her brain wasn’t connecting with her tongue as usual. She tried her best to keep it together, but her voice cracked on the last sentence. Tears spilled down her cheeks and over her lips. She used her right hand to swipe at them roughly. Crying over Ava was not something Harmony thought she’d ever do, but the tears still came fast and hot. Ava was, after all, her mother.
Harmony placed the phone back on her nightstand. She flopped down on the side of the bed like a sack of bricks; the strength seemed to have left her legs. Something ached at the base of her skull. In response, she lifted her hands and placed them on either side of her neck, moving her fingertips in a circular motion at the site of the pain.
Harmony’s abrupt motion caused Ron to stir. She turned her body away, giving him her back. She didn’t want him to see her cry. In that moment, Harmony didn’t know why she was hiding from Ron, who was her best friend. He had never been anything but supportive since they’d met three years earlier. If it hadn’t been for their relationship, neither of them would have survived the crises they were experiencing at the time.
Harmony had just left a chart-topping girl group comprised of herself and her sisters. Even with all of the group’s success, Harmony was practically penniless when she walked away. Ron was a washed up child star who’d fallen so deeply into his addiction to crack cocaine and prescription pills that he’d resorted to living on the steps of a church, selling off his daytime Emmy award and all of the memorabilia from his hit sitcom days when he was the heartthrob who had millions of little girl fans screaming down the streets everywhere he went.
“Harm, what are you doing up?” Ron murmured.
He reached out to embrace Harmony from behind. She cringed. Giving and receiving affection was still something she struggled with. A childhood of no love and affection had done that her.
“Hey. Hey,” Ron whispered, snatching his hand back at her reaction. He sat up in the bed.
“What’s up, Harm?” he asked again, reaching out and touching her back.
The dam of Harmony’s composure finally broke, causing her emotions to spill forth. Her shoulders quaked with waves of rough, violent grief.
“Harmony, what is it? Is the baby okay?”
Harmony didn’t have to see Ron’s face to know that he was alarmed. She covered her face with her hands and belched out more heaving sobs. She shook her head and mumbled her thoughts.
“If only I had seen her one last time and told her how I felt. I should’ve forgiven her for everything she did. She didn’t know any better.” Harmony’s conscience was riddled with guilt that she just couldn’t understand.
Within seconds, Ron was on his knees in front of her. He tugged her hands from her face. “What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me. Please.”
Harmony wanted him to hold her. She wanted to know that he was always going to protect her. She finally relented and moved her hands. Through her red-rimmed eyes, she looked at Ron’s beautiful cinnamon face.
He swiped a piece of sweat-drenched hair from her forehead so he could look into her eyes. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
Harmony opened her mouth, but the words stuck to the back of her throat like she’d just swallowed a jar of arts and crafts paste.
Ron touched her cheek, encouraging her to open up to him. “C’mon, Harm, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he urged. “You’re not just crying and shaking all over for nothing.”
The heat from his touch soothed her, but it still wasn’t enough to warm her cold heart.
“Take a deep breath and talk to me.”
Inhaling deeply and exhaling a shaky breath, Harmony began. “My mother, um, Ava.”
Just saying the word mother burned on Harmony’s tongue. She noticed Ron’s muscular body tense at the mention of her mother. He was one of the very few people, a
side from her sisters, who knew the truth about Ava.
“What the hell did she do now?” Ron interrupted, his voice taking on a dark tone. He knew all about Harmony’s relationship with Ava, none of it good.
Harmony shook her head from left to right. “No. Nothing. It’s . . . she . . . Ava. I mean she’s . . .” Harmony stammered, her bottom lip trembling. “Dead.”
Harmony threw her hands around Ron’s neck and collapsed against him with more sobs. She never would have expected to have such a visceral reaction to Ava’s death. Harmony must have wished her mother dead a million times while she lived.
“Oh, shit.” Ron gasped. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” At a loss for words, Ron pulled Harmony up from the bed and into a tighter embrace.
Harmony clutched onto him so tightly that she could feel his chest hairs pricking her face. Her body warmed up. It felt so good to have someone like Ron at her side. Harmony closed her eyes and melted into her husband, and neither of them said another word.
Ava’s image came into focus in Harmony’s mind—her butterscotch skin, long and silky jet-black hair, and her eyes, those famous, deep-set, glaring, chestnut brown eyes. There was so much to think about, so many emotions to sort through. As hard as Harmony tried to put her past to rest, Ava’s death seemed to reawaken memories and emotions that she had believed long dead.
Brooklyn, New York
July, 2000
Harmony was thirteen years old. Her sisters, Melody and Lyric, were eleven and nine respectively. Their musically inspired names were indicative of the fact that their mother, the great Ava Love, related everything in her life to music, even her children.
It was a blazing hot summer day and Harmony and her sisters had been outside in their backyard since the crack of dawn. Even at that early hour, the sun burned brightly, which meant it would be one of those unmercifully hot, humid summer days.
After fifteen minutes outside, Harmony already had a waterfall of sweat rolling down the sides of her face. Without a doubt, this would spell disaster for her thick mane of kinky hair. Harmony’s hair had already begun folding in on itself to form what her mother referred to as “nigger naps” and a “jiggaboo afro.” That day, Harmony knew, her mother would have something degrading to say about her hair not being soft and silky like her own and how she couldn’t figure out why Harmony had such nappy-ass hair like a runaway slave when clearly she had nothing but “good hair” in her family. Her mother thought these harsh criticisms made her sassy and sophisticated, but in Harmony’s eyes, it made her appear crude and racist.
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