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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781456739584 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 06/07/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 741 KB |
Read an Excerpt
Lessons Learned
By Loretta Asata
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Loretta AsataAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-3961-4
Chapter One
"Well done," said Melvin Rio, the VP of Marketing, as he extended his hand to congratulate his Marketing Director who did it again. That is saved one of their largest customers who have been threatening to withdraw their contract, if changes were not made to improve their ratings."Listen up everyone, we are closing early today and going to dinner." replied Mr. Rio. Everyone in the office cheered and started to shut down their computers to prepare for the office dinner celebration. At the far end of the hall was the office of the Director of Marketing, Possable Johnson. She stood about 5'8" with almond shaped hazel eyes, even at age 31 she had the shape and build of a model. Her brownish rich complexion matched the color of her hair which was styled in a bun. Possable had been with KG Marketing for ten years and in her current position for three years now.
Her office was decorated with an oceanic theme sending a cool welcome to anyone who entered. She had a picture on her desk of her dog, Jordan when he was two months old. The office had a phenomenon view overlooking New York's Manhattan Bridge. Besides having a Master's degree in marketing from Penn State University, Possable worked for one of the most prestigious advertising companies in New York making well over six figures plus bonuses per year. To most, her professional life was considered exceptional and very impressive. Long hours and hard work definitely paid off. She was the center of her world and truly did not care what the other employees thought about her. She was a career-driven woman and completely happy with her life. At least she convinced herself she was. Possable was also a perfectionist who believed that All her efforts were because of her only. Her life could be perceived as absolutely perfect on the surface and there was nothing to make it go wrong.
Later that evening the staff of KG Marketing joined Mr. Rio for dinner at Tavern-on-the-Green, one of Manhattan's favorable spots to be seen and be seen. The place was packed like fans lined up to purchase Giants tickets for the Super Bowl. Thank goodness Mr. Rio's secretary made reservation for twelve. The atmosphere was loud yet inviting; medium-tone level music was playing. Servers were taking orders and rushing to tables with large trays of food. At one particularly loud table there was a group of five celebrating a friend's birthday with exchange of gifts, laughter, jokes and liquor.
Mr. Rio and his party followed the waiter to their Table and were seated. After placing their orders they engaged in office conversations. The celebration was supposed to thank everyone for their hard work and dedication, but it ended up being an "all about Possable" celebration. Right in the middle of sharing her time spent at a Canadian winter carnival, she was suddenly interrupted by the ring from Mr. Rio's cell phone. He excused himself and shortly after returned with a worried expression on his face. He explained that his teenage daughter's car broke down on the Beltway and that she had no means of getting home. He wished everyone a nice long weekend, paid the bill upfront with the manager, and left. Thirty minutes later the rest of the group exchanged goodbyes and departed.
Chapter Two
Possible arrived at her 12th floor high-rise luxurious apartment in Manhattan an hour later. The weather was nasty outside, it was pouring heavily with thunder booming and lighting flashing across the sky. She switched on the light near her kaleidoscope lamp. No power. The electricity was out due to the storm. Thank God she had a candle centerpiece for her dining table, just in case of emergencies such as this. She lit the candle and dialed the number to the concierge service desk. On the second ring a friendly voice answered."Thank you for calling Steady Seasons"-
"Yes, hello this is Ms. Johnson at Suite 1250, I was calling to report," she interrupted herself after realizing that she was talking to an answering service, but continued with the message. "Hello, where is the concierge? Do you expect me to remain without electricity for the whole night! I am not paying $3,500 a month to sit in the dark."
She unloosed her hair from the bun and ran her hands through it, just frustrated.
A few minutes later, Jordan ran out from the bedroom ecstatic to see her. He jumped up and down, tail wagging; standing on his hind legs, looking puzzled at Possable. She patted and playfully touched him, giving him a few kisses on top of his head. While sitting on her couch she removed her shoes and relaxed. Suddenly lightning struck and Jordan barked, running to the patio window.
Instantaneously a tree tumbled down, crushing the roof of a small doughnut shop. She ran to grab her cell phone of the kitchen counter and dialed 9-1-1. She hoped not to get a recording like during an episode of one of her favorite television drama. It was when a young woman was trapped in her fourth floor apartment when a fire broke out from her downstairs neighbor's apartment.
"Hello, Hello, HELLO!" Yes, hello this is Possable Johnson speaking. I am calling to report an accident. A tree struck by lightening just fell into a little doughnut shop at 23rd and Park Place. You have got to hurry, I don't know if anyone is hurt or dead."
"Try to calm down, help is on the way," the dispatcher said right before the call disconnected.
How could Possable even consider to calm down, all kinds of thoughts were running through her mind. She kept pacing back and forward to look outside her balcony to see if the police and emergency crew arrived yet. Seven minutes later sirens from afar were growing louder and closer. She raced back to her balcony and there were four emergency ambulance vans, five police cars, and a fire truck. They all quickly responded to the scene of accident. A fire that appeared to be coming from the rear of the little doughnut shop caught the attention of one of the fire fighters. Two men raced to the rear with a water hose in hand. A few men with gas masks and body armor decided to enter from the front entrance and then BOOM! A huge explosion came out of nowhere. Anything and everything that was in close proximity to that explosion was dead.
Possable nearly jumped from out of her skin and opened the sliding patio glass door that lead out to her balcony. Sweat was dripping down profusely from her forehead, but the little donut shop was still standing and the once heavy, rainy weather was settling.
"It was all a dream. It was just a dream," she silently said to herself.
Suddenly the electricity came back on and the air conditioning was regenerating itself again to power on. She sat down on her red, supple leather sofa and clinched tightly onto a throw pillow relieved that it was just only a dream but at the same time lost for words to express the experience.
Chapter Three
It was 6:00 a.m. when the alarm clock in her bedroom radio sounded. She hit what she thought was the off button but ten minutes later it sounded again. She struggled to find the energy to sit up and make certain to hit the correct button this time. She could tell from the reflection of the blinds that the sun hadn't risen. She positioned herself back into bed, fluffed out her pillow, and became comfortable once more. Almost too comfortable that she quickly fell back into sleep. Not even an hour later her cell phone rang again."Don't people just sleep in on weekends anymore?" She answered the cell unpleasantly. "Who is this and what you want?" Jordan surprisingly jumped into her bed and startled her.
A deep voice on the other end said "It's your brother."
Her younger brother, Brandon, a middle school teacher was apparently a jokester also.
"Hey Brandon, what's going on with you?"
He chuckled as he asked sarcastically, "Are you always so pleasant in the morning?"
Possable rolled her eyes with an attitude and replied, "Why are you calling me so early in the morning anyway?" with one hand on her forehead.
"I wanted to see how you were doing. And if you're still living on top of your world." Possable didn't appreciate that comment. Forcefully she replied, "I am just fine. Don't be calling this early in the morning with your smart remarks. I am not in the mood. You got that?"
Brandon started to laugh hysterically. He didn't understand why she was overacting. "Alright sis, I'm sorry. Like I said before just was thinking about you and wanted to know if you were fine. I'm going to let you get back to sleep Ms. Grumpy."
Before Possable could put Brandon in his place the line went dead. "That no good, boy has a lot of growing up to do," she grunted to herself. She glanced at her clock radio it was already 9:45 a.m. The morning was getting away too quickly, she whispered to herself. Unable to return to sleep after that ridiculous conservation with her juvenile brother, she watched briefly Jordan sleeping stretched out and comfortable on her queen size bed. He looked so peaceful and absolutely adorable wrapped around like a warm blanket. She didn't want to disturb him, so she got out of bed and went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of green tea.
Later that day Possable and Jordan took a walk around the neighborhood park. Jordan was excited to see another dog and started to go crazy and whimpered. She tightens up on his leash to control and calm him down. After a few attempts, she saw that the other dog was already across the next block with its owner. She couldn't wait until Jordan grew out of his puppy stage.
The air was a bit cooler than normal that afternoon. Perhaps autumn was right around the corner. Other than leaves changing vivid colors and falling from the branches, it was also the time to decorate for the season with inviting, warm fall colors and styles in reds, oranges, purples, and shades of browns. Not to mention with the seasonal change comes Thanksgiving and Christmas. Because of the chill in the air, she hurriedly returned home with Jordan and wrapped herself in a warm cashmere sweater. She thought for a moment what on earth she was going to do for the rest of her weekend when suddenly there was a knock, knock, knock on the door. She peaked through her peephole and it appeared to be a pizza delivery guy.
"May I help you? Are you lost?"
"Yeah, looking for Summers residence," replied the young boy popping his gum. She definitely knew who they were because they had more drama than TNT put together.
"You want suite number 1290," suggested Possable.
The delivery boy made no attempt to say thank you and then scurried along.
The Summers on the surface appeared to be the perfect, ideal family. However, there were several incidents when Mr. and Mrs. Summers had heated arguments. The most recent was a few months ago when Mrs. Summers called the police because her drunken husband stubbornly refused to give her the keys to his spanking new, midnight blue, fully-loaded Audi convertible car.
Possable smiled and thought to herself how an intelligent, college-educated woman ended up with a loser for a husband. She checked her watched and it was quarter past five, it was time to decide what to have for dinner. A spinach chicken salad came to mind with bell peppers, tomato, red onions, shredded cheese, with a sprinkle of basil and black pepper seasoning, topped with Thousand Island dressing and croutons. She set to work in the kitchen. Preheating the oven and laid the seasoned breasts into the baking pan. From the refrigerator she got all the vegetables she envisioned for the salad and started to rinse and chop them. She poured herself a glass of white wine, placing a plate on the dining table and lit her centerpiece. She was just about to sit to enjoy her meal when she remembered Jordan needed to eat as well.
She poured out two scoops of Purina dog food into one side of his bowl inscribed with his name. The other side she filled with water. From a distance Jordan smelled the aroma. He ran into the kitchen and landed his face right into his bowl eating contently. Possable smiled, patted him on top of his head and decided to play some light music.
Standing in front of her sound system she couldn't decide if she was in the mood for Vanessa Williams or Toni Braxton. A few minutes later Toni Braxton's self-titled album won the debate. Toni was the right choice for another rainy night. She snapped her fingers into the air while softly singing and grooving in rhythm. It wasn't until the second track that she suddenly remembered she had a candle lit. Returning to her meal, an abruptly and hard loud knock startled her. The second knock was louder and harder. It was not an ordinary knock you'd expect from company visiting, but the type of knock when there's an urgent matter.
Chapter Four
Mrs. Summers stood at the door. She frantically yelled out, "Help, help me, he's going to kill me."Possable immediately opened the door and that's when Mrs. Summers pushed her aside and then locked the door behind her.
"Mrs. Summers, I don't know what is going on, but you can't just barge in here and-." Possable noticed she was on her couch shaking and hyperventilating restlessly. Without any lights on in the apartment, other than the candle burning from the centerpiece, Possable couldn't see Mrs. Summers clearly. However, when she got closer, it was obvious her left eye was swollen. She had been beaten up pretty badly. Then all of a sudden, another bang came to the door.
"I know you're in there Rachel. Ain't nowhere for you to run."
Rachel jumped off of the sofa and moved near to the balcony. What on earth is this woman attempting to do in my home? Possable questioned herself.
"OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR NOW!"
Possable clumsily started to search for her cell phone in her purse to call the police. Thank God she decided to renew her contract with T-Mobile and add free weekends to the plan. She dialed 9-1-1 as she yelled to Mr. Summers, "Get the hell out of here. I'm calling the police on your trifling, sorry, wife-beating ass."
Just when the person on the other end answered, "9-1-1 please state your emergency," Rachel snatched the cell from Possable and hung up the call.
"Are you kidding me?" demanded Possable.
"No! My husband doesn't need the police on his case again. He is a respectable doctor. Besides, he is highly regarded when it comes to his dedication to his work and loyalty in the community."
"Really? I think the media will love to hear how respectful and committed a man he is beating on his wife," she said while holding up the New York Times newspaper.
Puzzled at the comment Possable asked, "Rachel, is your daughter safe? Where is she?"
"She is staying with her grandmother this weekend in Connecticut."
"Open his damn door before I kick it down. You stupid, lousy whore-you're going to be sorry!"
They both looked at each other. Possable knew calling the police was the right thing to do especially after witnessing Rachel's abused face and fear in her eyes. Rachel was too emotionally and tearful to notice when Possable grabbed the phone from the coffee table and started to re-dial 9-1-1. From the open window they heard police sirens. Evidently, someone else with good sense called the police.
Rachel got on her knees and started to pray that God will forgive her husband and not let the police arrest him for good this time.
"Freeze, put your hands where we can see them," an authoritarian voice from the hall demanded. Possable stood still to listen, relieved that the police were there.
"I'm Dr. Summers from Metropolitan Hospital. I'm here to check on one of my patients."
"Well, doc wegot a reportthat thereisa domestic dispute going on here and that you are making threats to kill your wife."
Now was the right opportunity to expose the good doctor with his lies. Possable and Rachel overheard Mr. Summers explain to the police that he was visiting a patient of his that couldn't come into the hospital because they had no reliable transportation. There was no way the police or anyone for that matter, could believe a story like that. He wasn't fooling anyone. The average New Yorker knows there are always money-hungry taxi drivers around to get you anywhere.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Lessons Learned by Loretta Asata Copyright © 2011 by Loretta Asata. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgements....................viiPrologue....................xi
Chapter 1....................1
Chapter 2....................4
Chapter 3....................8
Chapter 4....................14
Chapter 5....................20
Chapter 6....................22
Chapter 7....................25
Chapter 8....................32
Chapter 9....................39
Chapter 10....................43
Chapter 11....................49
Chapter 12....................53
Chapter 13....................64
Chapter 14....................71
Chapter 15....................78
Chapter 16....................93
Chapter 17....................98
Chapter 18....................102
Chapter 19....................110
Chapter 20....................119
Chapter 21....................135
Chapter 22....................139
Chapter 23....................150
Chapter 24....................156
Chapter 25....................166
Chapter 26....................168
Chapter 27....................171
Epilogue....................175