by Livell James
Tainted Love
Livell James
TAINTED LOVE
Copyright © 2019, Livell James
First electronic publication: May 2019
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted works is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America
Editing – Amy Harris and Grace Brennan
Photograph – Randy Sewell: RLS Model Images Photography
Cover Model – Jake Reeves
Cover Designer – Tammie Smith: Renegade Covers
Formatting: Dark Water Covers & Formatting
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
Other Books by Livell James
For all of you that believe in me and continue to support my journey as an author.
My beautiful wife for not killing me and kicking me out of the house during the writing and editing process.
In memory of my amazing son Alec July 30, 1998 - August 18, 2016
I’ve spent the last thirty minutes in my car, sitting on my hands to keep them from freezing, but that idea doesn’t work when it’s this damn cold. I just hoped my heat would kick in soon.
I’m sure you're all thinking, “Why would he be sitting in his car when he could have waited in the house for it to warm up?”
That's where the story begins. I don’t have a home. Yup, you read it right, I’m homeless—but not helpless.
I was allowed to sleep at the shelter last night as the temperature was well below freezing. That’s not something that often happens here in the southern states. They usually wouldn't give two shits about a young guy like me who has a job. Yes, I have a job, but I only work a few days a week. I somehow convinced them that it wasn't a good idea for me to sleep in my car. I might be making assumptions, but I’m almost sure they would never make anyone sleep in their car if they have space for them in the shelter. However, here I sit in my car, freezing my ass off.
So why am I homeless, you ask?
Both of my folks were killed in a car accident about a month ago, and they had nothing they could call their own. The cause of the crash was never found—at least that’s what they tell me. All I know is that they ran off the road and ended up going over a cliff. The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to believe they just suddenly left the road for no damn reason at all. However, you can only take the word of the person who wrote the report.
The house we lived in was a month-to-month rental home. I couldn’t afford to keep the house on my four hundred dollars a month job. We’d only moved here about a year ago, so I didn’t have anyone I knew well enough to help me out. None of the family on my mom's side would take me in because I was "the bad child." Truth be told, they just didn’t like the idea of Mom and Dad being together. Even after twenty-something years, her family still hated my dad.
Why? They were assholes and judged him on the color of his skin. Her family also never let Dad live down the fact that he’d gotten into some trouble when he was younger. They all thought if they took me in that I would follow suit. As far as my dad's side of the family, he had none left. He was raised by a single mother, and until the day she died, he still didn’t know who his dad was. Grandma died before I was born.
Yes, I know my tale is starting out as a huge sob story. Let's all feel sorry for the twenty-year-old homeless guy.
Well, this is not how it was meant to be.
I work at Jones’, a family owned grocery store, on Tuesday and Thursday, helping unload the trucks and put away stock. There isn’t a lot of storage space downtown in a city like Shreveport, Louisiana, so they order merchandise according to sales. The store is more of a neighborhood market than a regular grocery store; Just a small butcher shop, a few aisles across the middle store, and a couple of cashier spaces at the front. The produce is mostly local.
This was the first job I was offered after my parents were killed. I’m still looking for a full-time position. I know there has to be something more for me out there somewhere. Besides, who wants to say they are homeless at my age?
Before all of this, I had plans to go to Louisiana State, but now, here I sit, in this cold ass, beat up silver 2008 Nissan Versa. My future is playing out a lot differently than I thought it would.
Some of the ice has cleared from my windshield from blasting the defroster and me scraping away at it. Now that I can see enough, I put the car in drive. I peer over the steering wheel, gripping it as if it’s going to fall out of my hands. Off to work I go.
This weather has been so weird lately, in typical southern fashion. It was seventy degrees a few days ago and now it’s freezing. The sky is grey and looks like winter will be setting in for a while. The streets are all dark and slick from the dew freezing on them the night before. I truly need some sunshine in my life, but that will have to come another day.
Just like any other work day, I pull the car around the back side of the old brick building where employees park. This is also where I sleep in my car ninety nine percent of the time. The building is at the end of a strip of shops that line a one-way street. The grocery store is very recognizable, painted a brick red color on the front and down the side facing the street, with a huge city mural painted in the center. It sits on the outer edges of downtown, and was shadowed by the enormous skyscrapers surrounding it.
Pulling into the lot, I see something—someone—out of the corner of my eye. It's a beautiful female who looks to be about twenty-years-old or so, standing in the middle of the spot where I usually park. She’s rather tall, with a slender build, ice-cold blue eyes that I notice as I get closer, and long blonde hair flowing to one side under the black hoodie she has pulled over her head.
I turn into the space on the other side, facing the back of another building. It was very odd to see some random girl just standing in my parking space. She’s never been around here any time before today, so I just decided not to push her from the space and take one on the other side. By the time I parked the car and grabbed my apron from the floorboard, she was gone. It was as if she had never been there. I know I saw her! She’d been there clear as day, and as beautiful as she was, she had to be real. There was no way the cold weather was getting to my brain to that extent, and there was no way my mind conjured up a woman that gorgeous. It just wasn’t
possible.
I stand still, just staring, and then start turning in circles while I try to figure out where she’d run off to. Just as I make my way to the back of the building, I’m almost hit by the old screen door in the back of the market, the door cracking and popping as it opens, Mr. Jones almost running me over.
"Well good morning to you too, young man! Just run over my ass next time," he said as he shuffled off to take the garbage he was carrying to the dumpster.
I’m not sure how I was running over him when he almost knocked my ass down with the door, and I just stand there looking like a dumbass.
"Hey Mr. Jones, did you see a pretty little lady hanging around outside this morning?" I asked.
"No, I ain’t seen anyone or anything other than this damn trash all morning. You kids really need to start cleaning up around here more," he rumbles in his thick southern accent.
"Now, you know I only work two days a week, Sir," I said as I hurried to get away from him.
Mr. Jones is in his seventies, at least, and has had the store for about forty years. His father owned it before him and so forth. His son, Adam, pretty much manages the place and will soon take it over if old man Jones ever retires. The family has been trying to talk him into it for years. I will most likely be the same way when I’m his age. The store keeps him going, even if he is salty all the damn time. Once I make it into the stock room, I’m able to clock in and head out on the floor to put out stock.
These damn voices have been taunting me for days.
I haven’t been sleeping well at all lately with these voices in my head. I’ve known I was a medium all my life. For much of that time, I refused to admit it or even answer the spirits that taunt me in my sleep. However, it was different this time. They weren’t giving up.
"Austin! You must find Austin, he needs your help," was all I heard over and over in my head for hours on end.
Waking myself up and dragging my ass to the bathroom, I look in the mirror and see the huge bags sagging under my bloodshot eyes. I managed to get a shower and put on my black sweater with the hood on it, gloves, and knee-high socks to keep my legs warm. I apply just enough makeup to make my eyes not look so bad: eye shadow, liner, and mascara. Thanks to my mother, who gave me my ice blue eyes, they always standout when I put liner on them. Not that I don't stand out anyway, I’m a slender female at almost six feet tall. If I dare wear heels, I stand over six feet.
Today is one of the coldest days we’ve seen in the south in a few years. Today is also the day I decided to listen to this couple who’ve been pretty much begging me to find their son. I live in a town just outside of Shreveport Louisiana, called Greenwood. My parents moved me here a few years ago, into an apartment to try to keep me safe from all the spirits and many other paranormal things that went on in the city. They asked me not to come back there because it wasn’t safe for me. I’m still not sure how and why it isn’t safe for me because my brother Jonah still lives there with them. Shouldn’t it be just as unsafe for him?
I’ll probably never know the reasons why. For now, I must make my way out into this nasty cold weather. Walking out my front door, I throw my hood over my head.
"Fuck.” I almost slipped on the ice going down the steps.
Making my way to the car, I start slinging curses as I see I have to try to scrape ice from my windshield. Digging in my purse, I finally found my old debit card and do my best to remove the ice. Finally getting enough that I can see from the driver's side of the car, I turn on the defrost and sit for what seems like hours, listening to “Tainted Love” as the song plays on the radio.
I put the address that the voices gave me into my cell phone’s GPS as I was waking up this morning, then proceeded to back out of my driveway. The GPS informed me the destination was eighteen miles away. I knew it was downtown and had already prepared myself with my headphones. Playing loud music helps me avoid the other spirits while driving through town. Today, I was going to find this guy who I only know as Austin.
After my short drive, I finally make it into downtown.
Shreveport is a mixture of old and new. The streets are lined with old buildings among the backdrop of skyscrapers along the Red River. It’s seated in Caddo Parish with a population of just over two hundred thousand people. A few casinos dot the landscape along the river banks.
Many would be scared shitless if they knew the things that happened here after dark—or in broad daylight, for that matter.
At last, I find the address. The place is a market with just a few spots to park out front.
“Why am I here?” I wondered aloud.
With nowhere to park, I decided to drive down the street to the next available spot I could find. I only just noticed that it was almost three blocks from my car, as I walked back to the address I was given. When I reached the building, a large painting suddenly grabbed my attention. I was entranced to the point I just stared at artwork for at least ten minutes. I was there for so long that it took me a while to realize I walked along the side of the building to the backside where there was a parking lot with at least ten spaces!
“Damn it!” I cursed under my cold breath.
This would have kept me from walking so far in the brutally frigid weather! I pulled my hood even tighter to avoid exposing my ears and pushed my hair over my left side on the shoulder. After standing in one spot for a few minutes, I noticed I was in the middle of one of the parking spaces when a silver Nissan came rushing into the lot. I froze for a moment and waited for the guy to park. As soon as I saw he’d looked down to unbuckle his seatbelt, I jetted my way back around the building, hoping I wasn't noticed. Because I’m sure I was just standing there, staring off into space. He had to think I was crazy as hell if he’d seen me.
I have to find this Austin guy, and I was on a mission.
Making my way around the building, I brush myself off and walk inside the front door. I then realized I forgot my headphones when I start hearing voices. I am thankful I have learned to block them out when I need to. The exceptions are such as the parents of this guy when they attach themselves to me.
The store is a quaint little place with a few young girls at the front checkout and the cute small produce market off to the side of the store. As I walked past the cashiers, I noticed one of them is someone I know. I try to avoid contact with her until I find the person I’m looking for, but I may stop to speak to her on my way out.
I see the butcher shop and a guy standing just outside the door that must lead to the stock room in the back. The first thing I noticed was his beautiful olive skin. As I got closer, I could see his amazing eyes, and his arms look well defined. His broad chest caught my attention moments later in the way his tight tee shirt left nothing to the imagination. This had to be the guy I was looking for. The voices told me his features were striking, just like those of his dad.
His shiny hair shaved on the side, with curls piled on the top, and his strong jawline tells me this is for sure the guy I am looking for. It has to be. Bracing myself, I approach him.
"Hi, I'm looking for Austin."
He looked at me as if I broke his arm or something, and he appeared ready to run at any second.
I heard a whisper from a faint female voice. “Protect him.”
Oh shit!
That's the chick I saw outside walking towards me. As my eyes met hers, a shiver ran up my spine, telling something wasn’t quite right about her. My first instinct was to run into the stock room as fast as I could, but I was stuck in place, and my feet felt as if they weighed hundreds of pounds.
Her gaze had me equally frozen as the cold blue in her eyes. The closer she gets to me, the more I feel my heart start to race. Then she spoke.
"I'm looking for Austin," she said in the most angelic voice I think I have ever heard.
Why the hell is this stunningly beautiful woman looking for me? Did I win the damn lottery, and someone forgot to tell me? I try to speak but my words came out as a mumble.
"Wh
at, um-mm, what did Austin do?" was all I could say once I shook the stupid look from my face.
"Protect him," she said, staring at me dead in the eyes as if she had spaced out and forgotten where she was.
“What do you mean, protect him?” I asked, trying not to yell as I spoke.
“Damn voices always talking to me…” she started to mutter before pausing, trying to get back on task. She cleared her throat.
“Hi, I’m looking for Austin.”
“Who said I was Austin?" As she reached out her hand to shake mine, I can tell she is nervous, and something’s weighing on her mind. “Are you okay? I think you must have slipped on the ice or something this morning and hit your head. Because I do not hear any voices, other than the couple at the butcher counter over there.” I pointed my finger in the direction of meat department.
Once I notice that my face had a perma-grin, I shake my head and repeated without the mumble this time.
"Why are you looking for Austin?"
“Your parents sent me!” she suddenly blurted out.
My mouth dropped open. I must have looked like I was in pain because I could feel my face tighten and my eyes pop out.
"You must have me mistaken for another Austin, lady."
"Austin, you have to believe me. I know it sounds crazy, but you must listen. They are speaking to me," Haley replied, raising her voice.
"My parents are dead! I don’t need some weird ass pretty blonde rushing in on me while I’m at work. It sounds pretty damn crazy to me that you say you knew my folks and are talking to them.”