This Can't be Life Read online

  This Can’t be Life

  By Shakara Cannon

  Publisher’s Note

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – references to real people, events, songs, business establishments or locales is purely coincidental. All characters are fictional, all events are imaginative.

  This Can’t be Life

  * * * * *

  Copyright © 2011 by Shakara Cannon

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or shared. To share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published by Infinite Source Publishing

  5042 Wilshire Blvd. #16948

  Los Angeles, CA 90036

  ISBN 978-0-9835748-1-1

  Visit Shakara Cannon at www.shakaracannon.com

  Email questions to [email protected]

  To my daughter, Makhye – you give me true purpose and make me proud every single day. Although you can’t read this book just yet, it is because of you that I write. To LaKisha Bonds, 1974-2001- you will always be my best friend. Life will never be the same without your laughter and smile. I think about you every day.

  Prologue

  The Days After

  This can’t be life…at least not a life worth living, I thought, as I moved my aching limbs. I’d been in bed for days in immeasurable pain from a broken heart. I was literally past my breaking point and done with this life. How do you keep living when your best friend is brutally murdered and the love of your life may be responsible? Lying in the dark with nowhere to hide from my thoughts and emotions, I felt alone, betrayed, deceived, hoodwinked, bamboozled, and lead astray! I needed to release the pain by any means necessary.

  I tumbled out of my bed and my knees landed on the hardwood floor with a thud. So accustomed to the darkness, I let it lead the way as I crawled toward the bathroom. I was convinced after less than four hours of sleep over the last three days that death had to be better than this. For the first time in weeks, I felt grateful…grateful that I had a practically full bottle of Xanax in my medicine cabinet. Once my knees hit the cold marble floor, I knew I’d reached my destination. I grabbed the cool, slick, granite countertop and pulled myself to my feet. On shaky legs, I felt for the only prescription bottle I knew to be in my medicine cabinet. I pulled it out and opened it with the minute bit of strength I had left. Popping two pills at a time and chasing them with water from the faucet, the bottle was empty and the contents were in my stomach before I could even contemplate my actions. With every labored step back to the bed, my final resting place, I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that I’d wake up, out of this body, out of this unforgiving world, free of misery and pain.

  Simone

  “Get off of her!” I yelled, but he couldn’t hear me. My throat was burning from screaming so loudly. I kept trying to move, but I couldn’t. I wanted to rescue the little girl who was being violated by this sick man. My screams were echoing so loudly in my brain that it was as if someone was mocking me from within. Hot tears streamed down my face. Unfortunately, they never once blurred my vision. My breathing began to shorten. Each breath became more and more labored. My lungs constricted. Air abandoned me. Everything around me went black.

  I sat upright and opened my eyes to thick darkness. Trying to catch my breath, I began to feel around to get some semblance of where I was. It took less than a few seconds for me to realize that I was still in my bed, in my bedroom, in my home.

  “Another morning, another nightmare,” I whispered, as I plopped back down onto my pillows. I looked at the glowing clock on the small Bose system on my night table that read 8:00. This was at least the 10th nightmare and the 10th morning this month that I’d awakened in a cold sweat, on the verge of a panic attack.

  For over a year now, I’ve been burdened with vivid nightmares that take me to a place of pure torment and despair. In the beginning, I only had them once or twice a month, but now, I’m having them at least a few times a week. Some of the nightmares were worse than others. When I lay my head on my pillow each night, I didn’t know if I would feel this little girl’s pain in my dreams or if I’d be a bystander, watching this man take this child’s innocence. One whole year of that same room, that same man, and that same little girl invading my dreams had to come to an end. I hoped sooner rather than later.

  Aside from the fact that I could never see the little girl’s face in my dreams, nor did I recognize the man or the room, it was all eerily familiar in some way. I didn’t know if it was because I’d had the damned dreams for so long, or if there was something there that I should have been noticing. Maybe that something could help me understand why this was happening to me and make the dreams stop. They were beyond sick. It was like being held somewhere against your will and being made to watch a heinous act take place. This little girl was so young. By the size of her body, I would say that she could be 10 or 11, no older than 12, and the man looked at least 28 to 30 years old. They just seemed too real and too damned vivid to be dreams. I wanted them to end!

  “Lord, please stop these dreams.” I didn’t want to wake up another morning or, better yet, go to sleep another night worrying about having this nightmare.

  The piercing ring from the cordless phone on my nightstand jolted me from my thoughts. In the darkness, I reached for the glow coming from the screen. I knew who was on the other end and didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID to verify. Only two people would be bold enough to call me this early in the morning: my two best friends, Talise and Stacey. Knowing that Stacey isn’t an early riser, I definitely knew who was on the line.

  “Morning, sunshine! Get up! It’s a beautiful day outside!” Talise announced, before I could even get a “hello” out of my mouth. She was wide-awake and well into her day from the sound of her voice.

  “Talise, what do you want?” I moaned, as I plopped my head back onto my pillow. “I don’t feel good.”

  “You know what the hell I want! You just up and left the Sky Bar with Deon Bradford. LA Lakers. Last night. Hello? You know I want to know what happened! Shit, tell me something… Oooh, you’re tired? Please tell me you gave him some!” She was all too excited for this time of morning, but she was brightening my mood, which Talise knew how to do all too well.

  “Tali, let me pee, wash my face, brush my teeth…hell, just let me get out of the bed. Can I call you back? You’re at work. Shouldn’t you be working, you slacker?” I joked.

  “Simone, I know you’re gonna go back to sleep and I have a meeting. I won’t be able to concentrate if you don’t tell me now. Then I’ll lose my job. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?” Talise tried to sound as serious as she could, but the laughter in her voice was ready to break through.

  “I can’t believe how nosy you are, Talise!”

  “I’m not nosy. I’m just concerned, Monie.” She laughed at the bullshit she was spewing. “And you know that.”

  “I’ll call you back in a couple of hours, nosy Rosie. I promise,” I teased.

  “A couple of hours? Oh, hell no, Simone! Get to telling the story! I’m not playing with you any more!” Talise laughed, not giving in.

  “All right, all right. I can’t keep shit to myself, can I?” I asked rhetorically as I began.

  When Deon and I reached the front of the Mondrian Hotel to get our cars from the valet, he insisted that I ride with him, but that wasn’t happening. I never get caught without transportation. I need to be able to shake the spot at a moment’s notice. Plus, I didn’t know him like that. I put nothing past m
en, especially men with money. They have a tendency to think they can do whatever the hell they want and get away with it. Hence, Kobe Bryant.

  After the valet brought our cars to the front of the hotel, I followed Deon to Mr. Chow’s on Camden Drive in Beverly Hills. The ride took less than fifteen minutes and we were seated and chomping on green shrimp and lobster before the clock hit 10:00. We popped a bottle of Roset Champagne and I actually found myself enjoying his company. He was really down to earth and was as much a listener as he was a talker, which I liked. There is nothing worse to me than a man who runs his mouth like a faucet.

  We chatted for maybe an hour more before he got up the courage to ask me to come back to his place for a nightcap. I laughed in his face. I knew it was coming. Men with millions always have the courage to go for the kill.

  “Don’t laugh,” Deon said. “I’m serious, Simone.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m laughing.” I dabbed at a tear that was threatening to fall from my right eye.

  “I’m insulted. I’m not even like that. I can have sex any day, any time. That’s not what I’m about. Just come back with me. Let’s get in the Jacuzzi, take a swim, have some champagne, some desert. No big deal. It’s 11:00. The night’s still young,” he stated, trying to plead his case. “I’m just a grown ass man asking a grown ass woman not to end this night so early.”

  I studied him for a good minute before I decided that I would live a little and go have some fun. “How far do you live?” If he lived in Manhattan Beach or in the Valley, it wasn’t happening.

  “I’m right up Wilshire, in Westwood. Come on. Plus, you have your car, Ms. Independent. You can leave whenever you want.”

  “Yes, I know this,” I laughed. Gathering my handbag, we walked out of the restaurant with his hand on my lower back. Deon was definitely a gentleman, but they all are in the beginning. That’s why I’ll never let my guard down. As soon as you do, that’s when they start to change, and I’ll never make that mistake again.

  When we got to his building, we took the elevator up to the 29th floor. We entered into a beautiful foyer with Moroccan hardwood floors and 15-foot ceilings. His penthouse occupied half of the top floor of the building and boasted two floors of pure, unassuming elegance. It was grand, yet comfortable.

  “Deon, this is amazing.” I had to give it to him. This place was absolutely beautiful.

  “Come on. Let me show you around.” He grabbed my hand and led me through the living room, past a dark, cherry wood grand piano, toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire width of the wall. It was breathtaking. I could see the lights of LA and out toward the pier at Santa Monica. The city lights were sparkling hues of reds, blues, and yellows. It was beyond magnificent.

  Several sitting areas were staged throughout the first and second floors. The furniture pieces were immense and strategically placed, giving an optimal view of the city as you sat and relaxed. The majority of the fabrics were made of soft chenille and the chaise lounges of the softest lambskin. The walls were detailed with tasteful, custom-sculpted moldings. There were eight fireplaces. One was in each of the four bedrooms. The fireplace in the master bedroom, connected through to the master bathroom, where an overflowing bathtub for two sat in the middle of the Italian marble floor. Two more fireplaces were downstairs, one in the living room and one in the dining room, where a huge table for twelve was set. The last two were in his library and on the roof by the built-in barbecue and sitting area. To say that it was overwhelming would be an understatement. It looked worth whatever he had paid for it.

  “Deon, your home is really beautiful.” I was in awe.

  “Thanks. It’s cool for now as a bachelor’s pad. I can’t imagine living here with kids and a wife. It’s not very child-friendly,” he said, smiling down at me. “Now, what would you like for dessert?” He pulled me toward the kitchen. “I have some peach cobbler, apple pie, chocolate cream cheese cake, ice cream, chocolate cake, strawberry cake…just tell me what you want. I probably have it,” he laughed.

  “What are you doing with all of these sweets?” I couldn’t believe that, as an athlete, he had all this stuff in his refrigerator and pantry. He had candy bars and snacks for days.

  “I have a sweet tooth. That’s one of my vices. So, what’ll it be?”

  “Chocolate cream cheesecake. It’s my favorite!” Once I saw the box from the Cheese Cake Factory, I couldn’t wait to dig in. He brought the whole box to the rooftop with two forks, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and strawberries. He pressed a button on the remote control, and Guy’s “Let’s Chill” began to play from the speakers placed around the rooftop.

  “Do you do this for all the girls, Deon?” He was pulling out all the stops and I enjoyed it. I was definitely impressed, but my head wasn’t too far in the clouds to see the ground. I knew what was up and, no matter what, I’d be the one in control.

  “What? Bring women here? Nope. Not at all. I’ve brought a couple people here, but hardly ever. I don’t like people in my space.” I looked at him like he was crazy. I could see he had game on and off the court, but he was definitely underestimating his opponent.

  “Well, what makes me so special? You don’t know me. This is our first time hanging out and you brought me here.”

  “But you’re different, Simone. How many times did I try to get your number and you wouldn’t even give me the time of day? Every time I’ve seen you, I’ve tried to get with you. I liked that, though. Things are always better when they aren’t just placed on your lap.”

  “Yeah, that’s true sometimes, but I’m sure you hardly ever get turned down by women.”

  “No, I don’t. But I hardly ever do the choosing. Some women can be too aggressive and I don’t like that. I’m just a laidback guy and when I go places, I like to have my space. But, that isn’t possible when you’re out in public or at a club. It’s no-holds-barred, and they can be vicious. Enough about that…tell me what you want.”

  “I have everything I want right now. Anyone that comes into my life would just be adding to it, not making it.”

  “Oh, is that right? That’s cool. An independent woman, I see. Why don’t you have a man, Simone? You’re too beautiful to not have a man.”

  “Who said I didn’t?”

  “Oh, damn, do you? Should I be watching my back when I leave my house now?” he laughed.

  “No, I don’t have a man. If I had a man, trust that I wouldn’t be here with you. I’m loyal to a fault.”

  “Is there such a thing? Loyalty is so hard to come by these days. I don’t see how you can be too loyal to someone. That’s actually commendable.”

  “You can absolutely be too loyal to someone. Being loyal to a fault is having someone’s back no matter what, although you know that they won’t be loyal to you in the same way. I’ve done that, but I’ve lived and learned.”

  “What do you mean by that?” He sipped his champagne and looked at me as if I was sitting before him naked.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m hot. Let’s swim,” I said, wanting to change the subject. I got up and began removing my clothes.

  “What, you have a bathing suit on under there or something?” he asked, with an amused look on his face.

  “Are we adults here or what? I can’t swim in my bra and panties? Same as a bikini, if you ask me.” I nonchalantly stood before him in sexy Dolce & Gabbana sandals and a black, lace panty-bra Malizia set by La Perla. I waited for his reply.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what we are but, I’m sorry, it’s either actual swimwear or nothing at all.” He stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. I watched him as he stripped down to his birthday suit, his eyes never once leaving mine. His six-foot five chiseled frame looked as if it were sculpted by the gods. The way his dick hung, long, thick, and limp, not an erection in sight, confirmed that he was, indeed, a blessed man. Still in my heels, panties, and bra, I picked up our champagne glasses and sipped mine as I walked toward the edge of the pool.

  “S
o, what’s it going to be? You’re scared. You’re not going to take it off,” he assumed, sending me a wink before he dove into the aqua blue water completely nude. I slipped off my stilettos and slowly sipped from my flute as I watched his long, lean, yet muscular, glistening body emerge from the water. I handed him his glass and sat down on the edge of the pool, immersing my feet and legs into the surprisingly warm water.

  “So, yes then? You’re scared?” he asked, moving his body directly in front of me. Close enough to part my legs if he had the courage.

  “Why would I be scared? You wouldn’t even be in the pool right now, if it wasn’t for me. So the question is, ‘are you scared?’” I asked, laughing inside. Sometimes my game even surprised me.

  “Scared of what? I’m in the pool, butt naked, and you’re sitting on the sidelines…looking beautiful, I must say. But you still have way too many clothes on.”

  “Too many clothes? I have on two pieces of clothing. If you can even call it that!” We laughed, enjoying each other. I was definitely feeling good. I hadn’t hung out and thrown all cares to the side in a very long time, and tonight was the night that I was going to do just that.

  “Well, it’s not fair that you have on more clothes than me or, should I say, that I have on less clothes than you. We’re unevenly matched right now,” he said, still standing close, yet way too far.

  “Well then, what are you going to do about it?” Our eyes locked as his hand reached out and caressed my right thigh.

  “What will you allow me to do?” He placed his champagne flute to the left of me. Then he parted my knees and placed himself between my thighs.

  “Why don’t you take your chances? Unless you can’t control yourself,” I teased, leaning back on the palms of my hands. He then wrapped his right arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. Our lips met and we took our time enjoying the feel of each other’s lips before we began to explore further. The softness of his kiss and his gentle, large hand on my back sent chills down my spine. He kissed me with such care and passion that it startled me for a moment. I had to remember where I was and who I was with. Deon was kissing me like he loved me, like I was his girl and he was my man. I removed my mouth from his and began kissing his neck as his hands cupped my breasts softly. With every touch, Deon was gentle and took his time. Wrapping his long arms around my waist, he pulled me into the warm water as our mouths connected once again. He lifted me into his arms as I wrapped my legs around his waist; I immediately felt his hardness. As we kissed and became more acclimated with each other’s bodies, it seemed as if time stood still.