#4 Truth and Nothing But

Text copyright © 2014 by Stephanie Perry Moore

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Moore, Stephanie Perry.

Truth and nothing but / by Stephanie Perry Moore.
      pages cm. — (The Sharp sisters; #4)

Summary: “Sloan is the youngest of Stanley Sharp's daughters and her dream is to be a reporter. She soon discovers learning the truth is harder than she imagined.”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978–1–4677–3727–2 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)
ISBN 978–1–4677–4658–8 (eBook)

[1. Sisters—Fiction.  2. Journalism—Fiction.  3. Scandals—Fiction.  4. African Americans—Fiction.]  I. Title.
PZ7.M788125Ts 2014
[Fic]—dc23

2013048213

Manufactured in the United States of America
1 – SB – 7/15/14
eISBN: 978-1-46774-658-8 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-46777-443-7 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-46777-444-4 (mobi)

For
Maya Angelou

Thank you for teaching me why the
caged bird sings.
Your writings have inspired many black girls to fly.
I have been working over the years to
do the same with my prose.
You leave a mark that makes us all dig
and find the truth inside us.
May every person reading this series
want to leave as strong a legacy.

You are a hero of mine. Blessed
you have shown me the way…
keep soaring!

CHAPTER ONE

SPIRIT

We all may think Stanley Sharp is sterling clean as the front-runner in the mayoral race. However, stay tuned for some dirty facts that prove he is far from polished.
Those were the notes written by a reporter who happened to be sitting next to me.

I didn't know the man, but on the top of the paper was the name Schultz. He was standing kitty-corner away from me, talking to a female reporter. I wondered why this man had it in for my dad.

I was supposed to be overly excited. This was Sloan Ann Sharp's time to learn and grow. I was rubbing elbows with the city's best reporters. Since I was five, I knew I wanted to be a journalist, so this opportunity to be near the best journalists in my area was a dream come true.

All the Sharp girls were dreamers. I was my dad's fourth of five girls. Actually, I was the biological youngest. My parents had adopted two of the five of us. Yuri, one of the adopted sisters, was a day younger than me. Ansli and Yuri were gorgeous mixed beauties who lost their parents when we were all young. Yuri, who was also my best friend, loved baking. Shelby, the fashionista, was the oldest daughter and two years older than me. Slade, the songstress, was only a year older than me. Ansli, who was the same age as Shelby, took award-winning photos.

All five of us were basically our own crew. For the last year, we'd been our father's shadows, escorting him all around town. Though we girls had been in his corner, our strong mother really had his back.

Campaigns get messy, and this one was no different. We were tired of being in the spotlight. Thankfully, we were all at the last mayoral debate. My father was leading the race to run the city of Charlotte, and all the polls were saying in a few days he'd be crowned the winner.

But how could I stay excited when the reporters were fishing for foolishness to make him look bad? It took everything in me to refrain from going to that Mr. Schultz and giving him a piece of my mind. See, I wasn't like the rest of my sisters. They were all refined, sweet, and nice. They said what was supposed to be said and didn't buck the system. I, however, didn't like it when adults played me. I believed I had as much worth as anyone, even though I might not have been on the earth as long.

I knew I wanted to be a writer, but not of novels or anything trivial. I wanted to win the Pulitzer Prize for my work. I had a deep longing to cover stories that would make the world better. Covering this debate was my opportunity to start. Our school, Marks High School, was just starting this year, so we were developing a newspaper. The first edition was supposed to hold my published work. Because I had press credentials, I wasn't sitting with my family at the debate. I was getting an up-front, first-class seat to report on the debate from a student's perspective. If my teacher approved my entry, it was going to get published.

My sister Shelby wasn't as outspoken as I was, but she didn't bite her tongue. She came up to me, leaned in, and said, “You sitting here with your mouth all hung open, looking all stank and stuff. Don't be representing the family any ol' kind of way.”

I wanted to tell her, “You don't even have all the information. If you saw what I saw, that someone was about to tell lies on our father, you'd be just as mad as I am.” But until I investigated and knew what was real, I wasn't going to spread lies. Trying to keep Shelby in check, I gave her a fake smile. She patted me on the head, like I was some good dog she was proud of. I didn't get mad though. Shelby and I were cool. I understood her brashness; I had more of it than she did. When the debate was about to start, she went to go sit down with my mom and sisters.

An hour later, the debate was still going on. I was a little tired of the bull I felt the candidates were giving. Even tons of promises were coming from my father. No way was all they were saying possible to achieve. Everyone was trying to make himself look stellar. They should, but as a reporter, I had to see through the bull and report the truth.

There were only a few questions left. While I thought my dad was overselling himself a bit, he was getting loud cheers and claps after every question. Out of the three candidates, my dad was still the best choice. The other two sometimes weren't even answering the questions but were using their microphone time to beg for votes.

When the moderator turned to the press section and asked if there were any questions, Mr. Schultz beside me stood up and was handed the mic. “I'd like to ask this question to Mr. Sharp.”

“Certainly, Mr. Schultz, go right ahead,” my dad said, showing all his pearly whites.

“There have been a lot of scandals with public figures in the recent decade. Even the two gentlemen running against you have been under severe scrutiny. One questioned for domestic violence, the other under tax investigation.”

“And do you have a question, Mr. Schultz?” my dad asked, as his wide smile was waning.

“I'm getting to that, sir.”

Under my breath I said, “Well, get to the question then, jerk.”

Suddenly, I realized that maybe Mr. Schultz wanted to trap my dad and ask him something about this so-called scandal that was written on the notepad. Immediately, I started coughing. No one was noticing, so I coughed louder.

A female reporter who was sitting beside Mr. Schultz reached over his empty chair and gave me her unopened bottle of water. “Take this, honey.”

I nodded thanks. I had to take a sip even though I was fine. She smiled, pleased I was now quiet.

Mr. Schultz saw I was taken care of and asked his question. “Do you think an elected official needs to come clean to the constituents who vote him in?”

“I'm not sure if I fully understand your question.”

“Is that because you've got something to hide?”

“Okay, you're making a lot of assumptions there, Mr. Schultz. My life is an open book. Everyone knows my lovely wife and our five girls. While my kids have taken me through a lot of challenges over the last couple of months, they're teenagers. Ask anybody raising young people, and they'll tell you the teen years are tough. I hope the good people of Charlotte, North Carolina, elect me to serve as their mayor. Not because I'm perfect, but because I want to make this city perfect for them,” my dad eloquently said. I was proud of that powerful answer.

“So you're saying you're not perfect and you've got something to hide?”

“No, I'm not saying that at all.”

“So there are no skeletons in your closet?”

“I don't know what you're getting at, Mr. Schultz,” my dad said forcefully.

“Oh, well let him get to it!” Mr. Brown, the Republican candidate running against my father, said. “Everybody looks at me, digging all into my issues. Nobody in this city is perfect. You heard it from Sharp himself, so all of you guys who think he's the good one, the least of three evils, some folks are saying—”

“You don't live in my skin, and you don't live in my house, Brown,” my father angrily cut him off.

A whole lot of oohs and aahs rang out from the crowd. My dad tugged on his suit jacket. I could tell he was trying to compose himself.

“I know you're not as meek and mild as everybody thinks you are, or I wouldn't have been able to trip you up just a second ago. So if anybody knows anything about Mr. Sharp, you might want to get it out there sooner rather than later before the people of Charlotte are blindsided.” Mr. Brown verbally punched back, trying to jab my dad and take him down.

“And as you can see,” the independent candidate burst in, “I don't deal with back-and-forth banter, nor am I affiliated with any party that is only for their own agenda. As your independent candidate, choose me so I can truly make sure the great citizens of this city are fully represented.”

They took closing remarks from Mr. Brown and my dad, but I could tell both men were still hot under the collar. Mr. Schultz appeared pretty proud of himself, judging by the smirk on his face. He stood up after it was over and talked to the lady who gave me the water, and I waited for my dad to come off the stage so I could congratulate him.