Beating the Odds

by Sherrod Tunstall

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Brad Carter is down on his luck. He loses his job, catches his woman in bed with another man, and he's days away from being booted out of his home. Wanting to get away from his problems, Brad and his boys go to a nightclub, where they meet a wealthy stranger who offers them each $50,000 to go to Rio de Janeiro and traffic cocaine back to the US.

They jump at the opportunity and have the time of their lives in Rio, but when it's time to return to the US with the drugs, all hell breaks loose. Brad and his friends are caught, and being in jail is not anything they could have imagined. With the help of a fellow prisoner with powerful connections, they plan an escape.

Brad is determined to find his way back to the US, but not without Diamond, the beautiful woman he met before things went awry in Rio. Can he rescue her from the clutches of Armand, the twisted crime boss who's been holding her captive for years? He soon discovers that the web of criminal connections between Armand, his wife, and his associates are deep and dangerous. With the obstacles he faces, Brad's journey to freedom may be impossible.

Release date: August 29, 2017

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Brad had just dropped a whole basket of french fries on the floor, making a loud noise. The new restaurant manager, La Bailey, aka The Bitch, was always on his back. Her face was twisted as she barked at him for making another mistake.

“Why are you always dropping shit? You know product cost money, lazy fat boy!”

Brad had taken a lot of bullshit from this woman, but cursing and insulting him in front of his coworkers and the customers was crossing the line. His nice switch went off, and his hood side was on the verge of coming out.

“Look, don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” he said, raising his tone. “I’m warning you.”

La Bailey didn’t like to be challenged, especially when other people were around. Some stood with their mouths wide open, while others whispered and waited to see who would throw the first blow.

La Bailey stepped a few inches forward, speaking to Brad through gritted teeth. “You just dropped product on the floor, stupid! I’m warning you not to do it again, or there will be consequences.”

“Don’t yell at me if I’m not yelling at you! One more word and you’re going to regret ever opening your fat mouth.” Brad’s light skin turned beet red, and his whole body started to tremble. He had to stand his ground.

Everyone was shocked to see him display so much anger. They never saw this side of Brad before, and it was almost scary. The Brad they knew was very nice, quiet, gentle, and laid back. La Bailey hadn’t seen him like this either. Even she was shocked. Nonetheless, the evil glare in her eyes remained as she marched back into her office, slamming the door behind her.

Now that she was out of his sight, Brad felt embarrassed but relieved. He poured himself a cup of cold water and then found a rag to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead. He quickly got back to work, starting with picking up the fries off the floor.

It wasn’t long before La Bailey opened her door and called out to him.

Shit! What does this ho want now? he thought. His anger had subsided, but after what had just happened, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to control himself in La Bailey’s presence again. He took a deep breath, and after going into her office, he took a seat, listening to her numerous complaints about him not following the rules.

“Your facial hair is too much,” she said, peering over her glasses that sat on the tip of her pug nose. “You’ve been late three times since I’ve been here, and there are times when I’ve seen you standing around doing nothing.”

Brad rocked low waves with a perfectly trimmed beard, so he wasn’t sure what she was griping about. He admitted to being late three times, but only by minutes. As for him standing around, that claim was false. He’d worked harder than anyone else in the restaurant, and he hadn’t been named Employee of the Month for no reason.

While stroking his beard, he narrowed his eyes, looking at La Bailey sitting with her legs crossed behind the desk. He didn’t want to classify her as an angry black woman, but she sure as hell was representing.

“I don’t know what your problem is with me, La Bailey, but I can tell you that this shit ain’t funny. I work my ass off around here and—”

She quickly interrupted. “I do have a legitimate problem, and here’s the deal. Our boss, Jon, put me in charge of this restaurant. I’m trying to get everything in order, and I don’t appreciate people who slack all the time. This is a business, and—”

This time, Brad cut her off. “I know who the boss is, and I’m not knocking you for doing your job, but your position doesn’t give you the right to talk nasty to people like you do. I’m grown, and so are you. You should know better, and if you want respect, you have to give it.”

“Respect is something that you don’t know anything about. You need to respect this place of business and do as you’re told.” She laughed, but he didn’t see a damn thing funny.

“Listen, trick. I got one mama, and you ain’t her. So are we done here, or would you like to speak to me about something else?”

She rolled her eyes, and with a tight face, she allowed her evilness to show. She was already an unattractive woman to Brad. He always thought she strutted around as if she were the prettiest brown-skinned woman in the world. With her shaved head and very thin frame, he didn’t think so. She made claims about people telling her she resembled Beyoncé, but all he could do was laugh about that. If anything, that told him how messed up in the head she was.

Brad was also disgusted with La Bailey because she had the reputation of a whore. Her position came from her opening her legs, and everyone knew she’d slept with Jon to get the job. He even gave her a new car and an apartment in Town and Country, Missouri, an uppity part of town where affluent people resided. She literally thought that she was Ms. Rich Bitch, and to top it all off, she was married to a clueless, simpleminded man who thought she was a jewel. She’d told her husband that all the stuff she’d gotten was through the company. Brad figured her son came from the company, too, especially since he looked like Jon more than he did her husband. But like everyone else, Brad kept his mouth shut. It was none of his business, unless La Bailey continued to put him on blast.

She did, telling Brad exactly what else was on her mind. “I want you to clock out. You’re fired, and no one—you hear me?—no one speaks to me like you just did.”

Brad shot up from his chair like a rocket, releasing words that he had been dying to say to her. “Bitch, you can have this stupid-ass job! I wouldn’t want to work another day with your trifling, messy ass. Good riddance, and don’t forget to put my final check in the mail!”

She fired back, hissing at him so loudly that people outside the door could hear. “Messy? You’re the one who is messy, fool. And as for your check, wait on it. I’ll get to it when I can.”

Brad tightened his fists. He was so ready to jump over the desk and crack her face, but the last thing he wanted was to be hauled out of the restaurant in handcuffs. He didn’t have money for a lawyer, nor did he have bail money to get out of jail. With that in mind, he was able to maintain his composure. He loosened his fingers, and the only word that spilled from his mouth was, “Whatever.”

La Bailey marched to the door then opened it. Everyone who had been listening in scattered as if they had been busy doing work. Brad was saddened by all that had happened, and as La Bailey began to rant to another manager about Brad, he ignored her. He clocked out and put up the deuces sign to everyone who looked on.

“And all y’all can kiss my light-skin ass!” Brad shouted.

Minutes later, Brad walked out of the building where he had been working for almost five years, still making minimum wage. He’d had bigger dreams than working at a restaurant, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about pursuing those dreams. For one, he could rap his ass off. He’d thought about pursuing that career, but everyone knew how difficult it was to break into the music industry. He was also skilled at drawing. Art was his second love, but most people weren’t paying big dollars for artwork. He felt stuck, and it was so easy for him to settle. Now, though, he had to come up with a better plan—a plan that would help him satisfy his bills that were already tremendously behind.

Before Brad knew it, he’d driven at least seven miles away from the restaurant. The air conditioner in his car wasn’t working; it was hot as hell. His shirt stuck to his sweaty skin, and the wrinkles on his forehead showed his frustration. He couldn’t get La Bailey’s words, “You’re fired!” off his mind.

All he could think about was what he was going to do next, but after he pulled over at a gas station, he spotted a close friend who worked at the restaurant. Brad exited the car with a smile on his face.

“What’s up, Stan?”

“What up, B?” They gave each other dap. “Why you off work so early?”

Brad looked away, trying to hide his disappointment. He then swallowed the huge lump in his throat before responding. “That bitch La Bailey fired my ass.”

Stan cocked his head back and frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because I did something everyone in that place is afraid to do.”

“And what was that?” Stan asked with a goofy smile.

“I stood up to her ass. Told her exactly what I felt, and she didn’t like it.”

Stan could only imagine how it had all gone down. He knew how Brad was when he got angry. It was funny to Stan, only because he was one of Brad’s goofy friends. He knew how La Bailey was, and he would have given anything to see Brad crack her face. More than anything, though, Stan was a loyal friend. If any of his friends, including Brad, needed money, Stan would give them his last. He was only twenty-one years old, with a fat face that was real bumpy and a low-cut fade that did him no justice. He wasn’t anywhere near as good-looking as Brad, but for some strange reason, some chicks appreciated his chubby frame and the thick Steve Urkel glasses on his face. Brad was sure it was Stan’s personality that hooked him; he was undeniably a character.

“I wish I could have been a fly on the wall,” Stan said, laughing. “And you know not to stand up to La Bailey. Everyone in that place either scared of her or kisses her ass, hard. I’ve never done it, and I’m surprised that she finally pushed you to your limit today.”

“She did, and I just wasn’t in the mood. The only reason I put up with her shit is because the economy is bad and people like me gotta keep they jobs. That’s what I was thinking, but enough is enough.”

“I feel you, man, trust me I do. But since you unemployed, what you gon’ do?”

Brad took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure yet, but he needed to think of something fast. “I got a little money saved up, and if all else fails, maybe I’ll go back to school and take up a trade or something. Then I can find another job that’s not related to the restaurant business.”

“Man, good luck with that. You need money now. What you gon’ do now?”

“Now, as in right now, I’m gon’ go to my baby house and see what’s up with her. Probably go catch a movie later and get some dinner. She ain’t gon’ be happy about me being fired, but she knows that I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

“You know how women are, so I’ll be praying for you, my brotha. Give me a holla later and let me know if I can help in any way.”

They pounded fists then parted ways.

At the corner of Delmar and North Kingshighway Boulevard, Brad made a right and then parked his gold 1999 Toyota Camry in front of his girlfriend’s apartment building. The second he walked inside, he saw that the elevator was out of order again. Already exhausted, he began to walk five floors upstairs to Nichelle’s apartment. He knew that he needed to lose some weight, but even with a bulging stomach, Brad Julian Carter was a handsome man built like a linebacker. His smile and dimples were to die for, but his slanted, dark-brown eyes drew women to him.

Even though he was a big dude with confidence, at times he still wanted to feel better about himself physically. At one time, he had a goal to lose sixty pounds, but it was his girlfriend, Nichelle, who said he was fine the way he was. Plus, he remembered when Nichelle said she liked thick dudes. That was when he loved her hard. That really raised his confidence level and put his diet plans on hold.

Brad and Nichelle had their ups and downs, but she had been Brad’s one true love for a little over two years. She accepted him “as-is,” and Brad viewed her as the woman of his dreams. She was twenty-one, smart as a whip, and was a nursing student at STLCC-Forest Park. She worked as a patient care tech at Barnes Jewish Hospital, and what Brad appreciated about her the most was how she often encouraged him to do better. He hoped that one day, when he got his life on the right path, Nichelle would be his wife, or at least his baby’s mama.

By the time Brad reached Nichelle’s door, he was panting and sweating like a dog in heat. His legs burned, and the Timberlands on his feet made climbing the stairs more difficult. He sucked in several heaps of air before sticking the key in the door. That’s when he heard Usher & Rick Ross’s “Let Me See” blasting. He made his way down the narrow hallway, not knowing that the high volume was the least of his worries.

The second he hit the doorway, he halted his steps. His eyes grew wide, and his heart fell to his stomach. Nichelle was on the bed with her legs wide open. Her loud moans echoed in the room, and her nails clawed the back of a muscular man who, obviously, had perfected his pussy-sucking skills. He moaned too, and as he expressed how delicious Nichelle’s pussy tasted to him, Brad was speechless. He slowly inched his way into the room, soon realizing that the man between his woman’s legs was his childhood nemesis, Garrett.

Garrett had always had it going on. His build was perfect. His brown skin was smooth and soft; hair was trimmed as if he visited the barber shop every day. His baggy jeans hung low on his waist, and with his shirt off, his muscles were in full effect.

Nichelle was getting served well. She was so aroused by Garrett’s performance that she didn’t see Brad standing there with shock and disgust written on his face. “Do that shit, baby,” she said with her eyes shut tight. “I love how you make me feel. I . . . I needed this sooooo badly.”

I can’t believe this li’l ho, Brad thought as his stomach turned in knots. Why did she have to do this shit to me, especially after two fucking years together? Two years and now this. What the fuck!

Nichelle finally opened her eyes. They grew wide as saucers. “Brad! Wha . . . What are you doing here?”

Garrett snapped his head to the side, and after seeing Brad, he grinned. He used his tongue to take one last swipe at Nichelle’s pussy before backing away from it. Without saying one word, he got off the bed and started zipping his pants. “Sorry about that,” he said with a smirk on his face. “I couldn’t help myself. I’m sure you already know how good she is.”

As Brad continued to stand in awe, Nichelle hopped off the bed too. She hurried into her panties while keeping her eyes locked on Brad. “I . . . I’m sorry about this, but you should have called. Besides, I’ve been meaning to tell you a few things anyway.”

Brad was so mortified that he didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t want to hurt Nichelle or Garrett, and he knew that if he stayed, he would definitely catch a case.

As he was going to the stairs, Nichelle followed him in her Mickey Mouse bathrobe. “Stop, Brad! We need to talk! You can’t just leave without allowing me to say something!”

She snatched his arm, and that’s what caused him to swing around and face her. “What’s there to explain? You’ve been cheating on me with a nigga I’ve hated since high school! I wouldn’t dare touch his leftovers, so you can march yo’ ass back up to that apartment and let him finish what he started.”

Nichelle ignored his harsh words, and since she’d been busted, it was time for her to face reality. She held on to Brad’s arm so he wouldn’t move. “Baby, I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but the truth is, sexually, you just didn’t do it for me. I was never satisfied. I mean, you’re a nice guy and all, but you’re not for me. You could make some woman very happy one day.”

She took a deep breath. “I . . . I need a real man in my life. I need a man who can bend me over like a slut, slap my ass and make it clap-slash-applaud him. You wanna settle down, but that’s crazy. I’m only twenty-one and in college. I wanna have fun with as many dudes as I can. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it’s best that we be friends, if you want to still be that at all.”

“Friends!” Brad shouted as his face shook and turned red again. “I gave you two fucking years of my life and this is how you treat me? You have the nerve to talk about what you need, but the truth is, I gave you exactly what you told me you needed and more. Gave you head, drank your cum, even pissed on yo’ freaky ass. I was warned about you, and like my cousin said, all women are thots. Screw that love and happiness shit. Screw all you bitches, and all y’all gon’ be good for is fucking!”

“I’m not a bitch, and to hell—”

Before Nichelle could finish her sentence, Brad raised his hand, slapping it hard across her face. She stumbled then fell back on the steps. While holding her face, she watched Brad rush down the stairs in anger.

“Trifling ass,” he barked. “Never, ever again!”

With tears trapped in her eyes, Nichelle bit into her bottom lip, feeling dissed by Brad. “Fuck you, you fat-ass fool! I’ma get you back for putting your hands on me! I can promise you that, so watch your back!”

Brad was so disappointed by everything that had happened that day, and on the drive home, he couldn’t help but shed a few tears. In his mind, men weren’t supposed to cry, but this was horrible. He didn’t know what the next day would bring, but as for this day, it couldn’t get any worse. At least that’s what he hoped.

Brad unlocked the door to his two-bedroom, one-bathroom house that he rented for $500 a month in University City on Canton Avenue. He went inside and tossed his jacket on a chair that was already piled high with clothes he needed to wash. He sat on his sofa looking over his mail. The cable bill was overdue, he was two months behind on his car payments, his internet was subject to disconnection soon, and his cell phone bill needed to be paid by the close of business that day. That wasn’t going to happen, so he tossed his bills in the air then looked at the envelopes as they fell like rain and hit the floor. Staring at the floor, he hung his head low.

Brad couldn’t help but think about how he’d been doing shit on his own since he was a child. His mother, Belinda Carter, had died in childbirth at the age of 15. He was raised by his grandmother, whom he called Mama Carter. Brad’s father wanted a football career, and a child would have messed that up. When Brad was ten, Mama Carter was diagnosed with breast cancer, and on his twelfth birthday, she died. She was a loving woman who had worked as a bank teller and taught Brad he could be anything he put his mind to. With her gone, her brother took her house and any money she had. Brad was left with nothing and nowhere to go.

Remembering these things only made the awful day Brad had been having seem even worse. He went to the kitchen to get himself a cold drink. He found his last beer at the back of the refrigerator, opened it, and took a long drink. It felt good going down, and for a minute he felt better, but then the memories hit him again.

Brad remembered how his great aunt had stepped up to help him. Her old friend was the mother of Brad’s father, Dewayne. Dewayne had . . .