Authors: Keith Thomas Walker
The Realest Ever
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
A cool rain washed over Donovan. His red, hot anger was immediately doused. He realized what he did, and he didn’t feel good about it.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You can keep seeing him if–”
“I’m not going to see him again,” Kyr
a stated. She was staring deeply into his eyes. Donovan didn’t think she’d blinked at all in the past minute.
Without warning she approached him and wrapped her arms around him. Donovan immediately grabbed her and held tightly. Kyra laid her face against his chest. She said, “Thank you, for everything.”
Donovan lowered his head until his nose and mouth brushed the top of her head. He inhaled her wonderful scents. His arms moved slowly across her back as his hands touched and clutched her flesh. Kyra’s body was on fire. The best friends hugged plenty of times since she returned, but never like this.
Donovan felt light headed. He didn’t realize what was happening until there was a mass of hard muscle between his legs. His manhood pushed against his shorts and then against Kyra.
Embarrassed, Donovan broke away from the embrace. He took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Kyra asked. She didn’t look down at what she
had felt on her stomach. She wanted to. She wanted to look so badly her heart ached. But she kept her eyes glued on Donovan’s. Her expression was daring and alluring and knowing.
“Nothing,” Donovan said.
“Then don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kyra said. She took a few steps back. She felt pressure in her lower belly as she moved. She felt her muscles clench a little lower down. Her legs threatened to give out on her, but Kyra managed to turn and exit the house.
Donovan was mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she moved. For the first time in his entire
life he watched Kyra’s ass like he wanted it, and he didn’t feel one bit guilty about it.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
THE REALEST EVER
KEITH THOMAS WALKER
KEITHWALKERBOOKS, INC
This is a UMS production
KEITHWALKERBOOKS
Publishing Company
KeithWalkerBooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 331585
Fort Worth, TX 76163
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this manuscript in whole or partial in any form by any mechanical, electronic, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including photocopying, xerography, and recording, or in any information retrieval or storage system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, KeithWalkerBooks, Inc.
For information write
KeithWalkerBooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 331585
Fort Worth, TX 76163
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Copyright © 2013 Keith Thomas Walker
ISBN-13 DIGIT: 978-0-9882180-0-0
ISBN-10 DIGIT:
0988218003
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition
Visit us at www.keithwalkerbooks.com
This book is dedicated to Cathy Atchison
MORE BOOKS BY
KEITH THOMAS WALKER
Fixin’ Tyrone
How to Kill Your Husband
A Good Dude
Riding the Corporate Ladder
The Finley Sisters’ Oath of Romance
Blow by Blow
Jewell and the Dapper Dan
Harlot
Plan C (And More KWB Shorts)
Dripping Chocolate
Visit keithwalkerbooks.com for information
about these and upcoming titles from KeithWalkerBooks
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Of course I would like to thank God, first and foremost, for giving me the creativity and drive to pursue my dreams and the understanding that I am nothing without Him. I would like to thank my wife for being my first and most important critic, and I would like to thank my mother for always pushing me to be the best I can be. I would like to thank Janae Hampton for being the best advisor, supporter and little sister a brother could ever have. I would also like to thank (in no particular order) Brandy Rees, Denise Bolds, Sabrina Scott, Dianne Guinn, Kierra Pease, Sharon Blount, BRAB Book Club, Trey Williams, Jason Owens and Uncle Steven Thomas, one love. I’d like to thank everyone who purchased and enjoyed one of my books. Everything I do has always been to please you. I know there are folks who mean the world to me that I’m failing to mention. I apologize ahead of time. Rest assured I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me!
CHAPTER ONE
FRIEND REQUEST
Kyra Michelle Reynolds took her son to the juvenile section before she settled into her seat behind one of the 20 computers the library offered visitors. The computer table had cubicle-style walls standing on either side of the monitors that effective blocked Kyra from seeing her neighbor’s screen on the right and on the left. But the area was not really private. The computers were in the very center of the library, so anyone walking behind Kyra could see exactly what she was looking up on the World Wide Web.
She thought that would be a deterrent from risqué searches, but the man sitting next to
her was on Sports Illustrated’s website drooling over pictures from their swimsuit issue. He was totally enthralled. He didn’t notice when Kyra took a seat next to him. Her daughter Katavia tried to squirm out of her lap the moment Kyra sat down, but there was no way she was going to let her baby run wild in this place. Kyra barely felt comfortable enough to let her eight year old son peruse the children’s literature by himself.
Kyra wasn’t
very computer savvy, but she found her career builders website fairly easily. She logged-in to her account and was disappointed to see that she didn’t have any job offers in her inbox. She created her profile less than a week ago. She didn’t expect a miracle, but it would’ve been nice to see at least one company was interested in her pitiful accomplishments.
Kyra
went to her profile and pulled up her resume, wondering if there was anything she hadn’t embellished the hell out of yet. She didn’t go to college, so there was nothing she could add to the education field. Her high school diploma from Little Rock was all she had to offer. Kyra looked over her work history and blew out a slow sigh. She wanted to delete her job at McDonalds, but that would leave a two year gap between her gig at Showtime Cleaners and her customer service position at a telemarketing firm. It was bad enough she hadn’t worked in nearly a year since her last job at Ricky’s Barbecue. And that gap was growing bigger and bigger, every day she remained unemployed.
Kyra backed out of her resume without making any changes.
She figured she already had enough going against her. The last thing she needed was some overzealous recruiter to find out she wasn’t the manager or even the assistant manager at McDonalds. Kyra had never worked in a leadership position, but she was sure she could do it, if someone gave her a chance.
For the next twenty minutes
she scanned a huge list of (
supposedly
) available jobs on the career site. The list got smaller when she weeded out the positions that required experience. It got smaller still when she subtracted the ones that required a college degree. What she was left with was the bottom of the barrel gigs that required manual labor, a mop or a broom and sometimes steel-toed boots.
But t
hese were the jobs Kyra was most accustomed to, so she applied for as many of them as possible. Fibbing was fully acceptable at this point because Kyra was sure that if she made it to an interview, she could talk just about anyone into hiring her. She was attractive, energetic, and she was eager to learn. Plus she was desperate, which was the best qualification of all.
Can you
operate a forklift?
Sure!
Have you ever installed awnings?
“Yes
, I have,” Kyra typed, although she wasn’t totally sure what an awning was.
Are you
willing to work in extreme cold or hot temperatures?
This one gave her a moment’s hesitation, because Kyra didn’t like hot environments at all. But as her daughter Katavia (better known as Kat) snuggled against her bosom and resigned herself to sleep, Kyra said “Yes” to the
refrigerated warehouse job.
She couldn’t think of too many things she wouldn’t do to put food in her babies
’ bellies – especially after the hell she put them through over the past year and a half. Kyra’s throat tightened and her eyes moistened at the mere thought of it. She quickly pushed the depressing thoughts from her mind.
She stood to check on her son Quinell. After a quick scan of the library, she
spotted him at a table by himself. Quinell was staring at the pages of a large picture book. Kyra wanted to chastise him for not picking a book with more words than pictures, but Quinell was too far away, and she didn’t want to shout.
Before she could sit back down, Kyra was
surprised to see a young man approach and pull her chair away.
“Excuse me,” she told him.
“Oh, you not through?” the boy asked her.
“No,” Kyra said. “I still have thirty minutes.”
“Oh, my bad.” The youngster looked Kyra up and down and decided to try his luck. “You come here a lot?”
Kyra took her chair and returned to
the computer. “A little,” she said, her eyes on the monitor.
“I’m Quinton,” her new friend said.
Kyra turned and looked him in the eyes. He appeared to be nineteen, no older than twenty-one. Kyra was thirty-one, and she had enough on her plate already. She didn’t need attention from some boy who probably still lived with his mama.
“That’s a nice name,” she told him. “I have a son named
Quinell
. He’s eight. This is my daughter, Kat. She’s two.”
Quinton didn’t need to hear all of that. He thought Kyra had a nice ass, but she squared the deal with all of that talk about kids.
What did she want, for him to buy her some diapers? “She cute,” he said and turned and walked away.
Kyra chuckled to herself when he was gone. Suddenly
, the chorus of Erykah Badu’s
Bag Lady
filled her head. Kyra had baggage for days. She doubted if she’d ever find a man strong enough to bear the load. But she recently fled Arkansas to get away from a man, so they weren’t that high of a priority anyway.
Kyra backed out of her career builder
site and checked her email. She created the Yahoo account six days ago and was surprised to see three new messages. They were all from another website that was new to her called
Facebook
. One message was a friend request from someone she recognized as a distant cousin.