Davis Overslept

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 979-8-89412-989-1
Verlag: David Davis
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 376 Seiten

Join four college students as they navigate the scandalous waters of sex, ambition, betrayal, and self-discovery. Will they succumb to the pressures of young adulthood or rise above them?

David Davis was born in Manhattan and grew up in Georgia. Imaginative and self-motivated, his curiosity and interest in reading and writing started at an early age. After working and interning throughout his college career, he graduated from the University of Tennessee with a chemical engineering degree. An introduction to poetry and short stories led him to explore his musical talent and produce and arrange several original pieces. His true wordsmith ability manifests in introspective, realistic stories that often expose racial and gender-based stereotypes. He credits much of his talent to his family and parental influence. International travel and reading are two of his favorite hobbies, and he has served as mentor and tutor for youth and adult education programs. His upcoming novel 'Talking in His Sleep' promises to deliver the same comedy and storyline twists, as his characters explore the ins and outs of life and love as young professionals. David Davis currently lives in Manhattan.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Davis, David

Leseproben

  Pete                                          1   I awoke to my moms calling me from the kitchen for breakfast. “Pete Deshaun Arnez,” she yelled. “If you don’t get your rusty butt outta bed…” Great, right in the middle of a sexy dream. Why is it that whenever you do get around to havin’ a dream like this, you’re interrupted? My moms always did have great timing. I lay there in bed inhaling the rich bacon aroma intertwined with fresh coffee and eggs. Checking my sheets to make sure the dream didn’t pull a whammy on me. Trying to remember what the girls in my dream looked like. It’s too early in the morning to concentrate. I could never remember anyway, especially when I was interrupted. I thought to myself, “moms you can ruin a wet dream.” As I rolled out of bed, I smiled as I thought about what the new day brought. I guess the first day of college was a big deal for everyone. I would be the third one in my family to go, if you count my moms’ part time attendance. My oldest sister, Denise, had gone off to New York to study journalism three years ago. Denise, or “Nesie,” as I had always referred to her since I was a baby, was interning this fall with CSN and was turning heads all over New York in all the journalism circles. I can still remember how proud moms was of her getting accepted. Now it was my turn. I glimpsed at my high school cap and gown still hanging in my closet with a few shirts that I never wore, and I thought about my other sister, Chantelle. She was only a year older than I was and had chosen not to go to college. It suddenly came to me that I didn’t know why. I stepped into my bathroom and splashed the grimace off of my face with cold water. I remember moms trying to talk her into going, but she could never hold a conversation with her about college without starting a fight. She gave up trying to talk to her about college a few months ago. Chantelle recently got a job at some auto insurance company as a receptionist. As I was coming out of the bathroom, the phone rang. I dove for the bed and snatched it up. “Well hello, baby brother! What’s up?” “Whassup, Nesie? How’s my big sister holdin’ it down in N-Y?” “I’m cool,” she smiled. “I’m really enjoying my internship. So, are you ready for college? Today is the big day, right?” “Yeah, I guess I’m kinda excited. I was just thinkin’ ‘bout you. Moms was expecting your call. She’s in the kitchen now. You wanna talk to her?” “Yeah, let me speak to her. Before I go, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you. You show those busters how it’s done in college,” she giggled. “We’ll talk later, okay?” “That’s cool, sis. Thanks,” I said warmly. “Moms,” I shouted from upstairs, “Nesie’s on the phone.” Hanging up the phone, I turned to my closet where my cap and gown hung. Still in my tank top and boxers, I turned and ran my hand over my freshly cut bald head. I headed downstairs while thinking about what I would wear my first day on campus. A brother has to make the best appearance on the first day. My moms always taught me that presentation was everything. Besides, there’d be mad girls all over campus. “Who was I to disappoint them?” I grinned to myself. I had heard some wild things about girls and what goes on in dorm rooms behind closed doors. Oh yeah, I was definitely ready for that part of the college experience. Moms was already seated at the table motioning for me to hurry and have a seat. From out of nowhere, she let out a big laugh as she winked at me. She was still talking to my sister while preparing my plate. I sat down and thought back to when dad and my sisters were still here. Moms laughed like that all the time then. Everyone always said that I inherited her laugh. There would be many nights after Chantelle moved out that she and I would sit and laugh together, our laugher boomin’ throughout the house. For a second, I saw the moms I used to know then. I didn’t see the gray streaks in her long, curly hair that revealed her age, while adding a sense of grace and wisdom. I didn’t see the wrinkles in her golden brown complexion above her brow. The same thin figure that had lifted me up and embraced me as a child hadn’t really changed much. And as suddenly as the laughter began, it stopped. Now I looked on a woman with a worn frame that had raised three kids practically on her own. A woman who had endured years of lies and deceit in a marriage that ended in a divorce long overdue. The permanent wrinkles above her brow returned. And now I wasn’t so happy about my big day on campus or moving out. A deep wrenching came from the bottom of my stomach as I thought about leaving her alone. I remembered this feeling from the first time she told us that dad wouldn’t be coming back home. It was a feeling even then I couldn’t shake. I quickly took a swallow of orange juice into my mouth trying to drown the awful feeling. Sensing my mood, she smiled. “So, are you all packed?” she asked as she hung up the phone. “Yeah, I think so. So, moms about me movin’ out…” “I know, you’ll be home at the very least once a semester, right?” “Well, yeah, but…” “No buts,” she grinned solemnly. “I’m going to go upstairs to make sure you packed everything you need, okay? Oh, my baby…Pete, I love you” she said as she pecked my forehead and hurried from the kitchen. Many times I’d heard her footsteps on the hardwood stairs, but this time her climb to my room sounded as if she was carrying the burdens of a thousand black mothers. Little did I know then, but that was a moment that I’d never forget.   Brooks I hadn’t been driving on the highway for two minutes and my cell phone rings. I looked in my rearview mirror at my handsome reflection and smoothed my eyebrows then reached for the phone. I knew that it had to be my parents returning home from their summer vacation. I was expecting their call. They had gone to Paris for the fourth or fifth time in six years. I had lost count after they finally realized that I’d never take them up on any of their invitations to join them. Don’t get me wrong. I really love my parents. It’s just that they can be a little overbearing and pretentious at times. Besides, I think it was enough that they made French my third language. It was good that I was returning to college because I wouldn’t have to worry about having to listen to their grandiose plans for my future. I slowed my speed to 60 mph before I answered the phone. It was a habit I’d developed. My mom was always reminding me about speeding. She had lost her only brother to a speeding accident and had always been insistent upon everyone following the speed limit. “Hi, mom. How was the flight?” I said in a rehearsed tone. “Oh, it was as turbulent as ever, dear. There were many times that I swear I didn’t know if we were going to make it. And the food was terrible, the champagne was flat, and the flight delay in New York was just ungodly. Your father slept the entire way back, so I had to entertain myself. Where are you?” she finally took a breath. “I’m on my way back to campus. I was just picking up some of my things from home. I fed Teddy and Max before I left. I didn’t expect you back until tonight. “Good. Oh, that reminds me. You will not believe what your father and I found during our promenade leaving Jardin Park. It was so cute and defenseless,” she smiled. “I just couldn’t leave it there all cold and famished. I think it’s a mix breed, Pekinese and Lhasa apso probably. Anyway, it’s on its way back home with us. I hope the others won’t get too jealous” she voiced thoughtfully. My mom had always had a soft heart when it came to dogs, especially small pure breeds. Teddy, a Great Pyrenees, had been one of my first dogs. And just recently Max, a Great Dane, had been added to the family. For as long as I can remember, there had been dogs around the house. According to my grandmother, Teddy had saved my life once in what she refers to as one of the most precious stories ever told. The story goes that as a toddler I decided to stroll away from home and wandered near a busy nearby highway. Teddy simply dragged me by the shirt into the adjacent ditch and sat on me until someone came along. Once my absence was noticed, my family came looking for me and found me crying buried under Teddy’s haunches. I guess hearing that story seemingly a million times had made him my favorite even as a small boy. I drifted back into the present just in time to hear my mom ask, “school starts in two days?” “Yes. I can’t believe the summer’s over and I’m a sophomore,” I said. “Time does fly. Speaking of time, don’t forget to drop by the house this weekend. Your father’s throwing a little soiree. You know, the mayor’s daughter, Monique, will be attending. She’s such a nice girl. She definitely has blossomed these past few years, don’t you think?” she asked. I had heard that tone before. She was hinting at whether or not I had noticed her sexual development. I thought about Monique and how her breasts had filled out and her hips had spread. No doubt, she was definitely a stallion in the making. Little did my mom know, I had more to do with her sexual emancipation than I’d ever admit. She’d...