April, a successful business woman, couldn't wait to board the cruise ship. Her friends Renee and Lisa traveled the same cruise liner annually. This year Renee phoned and pleaded with April to come along with them. All three friends hadn't 'hung-out' together in a long time, and were all excited. But it didn't take long after reaching the docks in New Orleans for April to get the feeling that something sinister was afoot.Keith, April's husband, loved her immeasurably. Along with their two girls, he awaited her return home. Renee was fidgety from the beginning of the trip, and knew exactly what her whore-monger husband Jeremy would be doing while she was away. Undaunted, however, she felt that two could play his game. Lisa had never given her husband Melvin the respect he deserved, and felt that even if he were on board with them, she was going get hers.April, a non-drinker, celebrated with her friends and drinks. Soon after she suffered dearly, and ended in the cross-hairs of an unsuspecting predator. While at home Keith attended a pre-scheduled social gala in glitzy upper northwest Washington, D. C. And without April at his side he participated casually in the back room shenanigans of the up-scaled mansion.Ashamed and nowhere to turn, April needed compassion. She rushed home early to be in Keith's arms, but discovered he suffered with symptoms of a summer cold. But was it? Keith was not forthcoming. Is April on a rocky road? The vessel is still out with Renee and Lisa on board. Come with us the rest of the way while the remainder of this heart-gripping, murder tainted, sexually charged drama unfolds in the lives of three close friends.
April
Confusion in the Aftermath of AggressionBy Roy E. HowardAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Roy E. Howard
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-3886-1Chapter One
APRIL Confusion in the Aftermath of Aggression
Keith had spiraled out of control. And now he suffered through a cruel sickness. He was in no way capable of caring for himself, and it seemed nothing short of a guardian angel could see him through such turbulent times.
"You're just a common drug addict we don't need your kind around here. Get out and don't show your face around here ever again," said the voice in Keith's head, over and over.
Flat on his back beneath cardboard boxes, Keith jerked his head from side to side. "No, no, stop," he shouted, his eyes squeezed shut.
The drug infested lifestyle he chose to partake in had festered, and culminated in his present state of disarray. Rock bottom, he lay crouched in an alley, in and out of consciousness.
"All I've ever asked is that you be a good husband and-" Keith interjected the conflicting voice in his head.
"No, no, I'll do better, you'll see. Don't go April," he yelled, while succumbed by the beastly addiction. He lay in a cold sweat.
More often than not, he tossed and turned while trembling and sweating. His body endured cringing muscle cramps. But unbeknown to him, it was unwittingly ridding itself of the greedy addiction. Most often he lay in a coma-like state of unconsciousness. Keith also suffered with delirious illusions, but none more profound than visions of vague images towering over him.
"Hey, you eat," the image would say then shout; "Now drink, you drink."
"Stop, leave me alone, no go away," Keith shouted, wide-eyed, arms extended in front of him in a mummy-like posture
But at some point, pestered into submission and unable to rid him of the creature-like image, Keith gave in and devoured the food forced upon him by the strange image. Satisfied he'd eaten, the image would go away. But only for what seemed a short time and the looming image would return again.
"You eat," the alien-like voice would say, over and over again.
Even in his condition, Keith had learned if he obeyed the commands of the image it would retreat.
Because Keith always succumbed to his body's insatiable need for rest, memories of his first three weeks on the streets were all vague, at best. Each day, like the one before, he regained consciousness periodically, hurting and barely lucid. Still, he would shut his eyes each time with silent hopes that death would replace the pain he felt.
But death was as elusive as his past to conjure up. And he had no clue yet of what had become of his past life. Not to mention the wretched horrors that loomed ahead in the new life he'd created. All he was left with were vague, periodic illusions of a glitzy lifestyle where he was at the center of attention; he instinctively smiled as he lay motionless in a coma-like sleep.
In spite of the anger and hatred he'd developed for the despicable life he'd conjured up, it seemed with each new day that Keith survived came more relief from the awful pain and addictions. And he began to gain a better understanding of the conditions surrounding his new reality.
This morning for the first time, Keith was awakened by the sound of a screen door slamming in the distance. It came from across the alley where he lay. He was lucid enough now to know that something was awfully wrong in his life. And he felt strongly that it all had to be an awful dream. He stared at the cardboard he lay on and thin blanket and cardboard that covered his aching body. Where was he? And how did he get there, he wondered, and had no idea of how long he'd been there?
Petrified, he turned and stared at the man who walked slowly toward him. Anxious, he sat himself up as best he could, and with wide, concerned eyes, he waited. The man stood over Keith and handed him the brown bag and bottled water from his extended hands.
The short, medium built man loomed over him, and then said, "You eat." And he followed that stern order with gestures from his freed hands. And referring to the water he'd just handed Keith, the man pointed and said, "You drink all of it."
Keith shook his aching head almost to no end, yet the image before him, the alley, and his pathetic situation were all still present. How could he have landed here, he thought?
The stranger had given Keith a meal. But more than that, he'd given him a fighting chance to live. "Umm," the man muttered. He looked Keith over closely. But his next set of orders would make Keith realize that his present situation only served as a prelude to a new life spawned on the heels of his over indulgence.
The stranger then pointed toward the busy street in front of the restaurant across the alley and said, "You must go from here. You much better now, move on." After both his hands swept toward the street, the short Oriental man walked back toward the rear door of the restaurant from where he came, but then stopped. "You not here tomorrow, you go," he said. His right hand was extended and waving toward the alley's exit to the main street.
Keith waited silently while the man reentered the building then removed the contents of the brown bag and devoured it all before drinking the water. But presently unconcerned with the man's orders to leave, Keith's body melted beneath the thin blanket and cardboard-he would rest for hours.
He'd had all day to think about it. And though barely mobile, Keith was up and on his feet. He'd made his way to the rear door of the restaurant. His head was situated inside the partially opened screen door where the Oriental man had disappeared to earlier that day. With a raised chin his eyes swept the busy kitchen area, and then their eyes met.
Neither man spoke a word. They each appeared to leave it to their telling eyes to say what ever words needed to be said. The Oriental man inside finally gave one quick nod of his head. Keith, still staring and void of expression returned a shallow nod and a broken smile.
He backed away, nodded his head again and closed the door behind him. It had dawned on Keith earlier that morning that the image he'd been seeing during his state of delusion was not an illusion at all. And the reason death had been so elusive, he concluded, was due to the efforts of the Oriental man, who each day forced him to eat and drink. And though primitive, he also provided him a make-shift bed to lay his head.
An odd feeling came over Keith. And though he had no recollection of the man he himself was before now, he felt a strong sense of gratitude. And what the Oriental man had done for him had wedged a place in his heart forever.
Still, one question remained: who was he? Only bits and pieces of what must have been a previous life raced through his mind. But making sense of it seemed all but impossible to him.
Even then, however, after Keith had suffered through the worst of his crisis, he was still only strong enough to drag himself from alley to alley. Later that evening, after hiding in shame from the rest of society all day, Keith headed out of the alley system, but to nowhere in particular. And having no clue as to how to survive life on the streets, he turned and headed back under the cover of the alley systems.
That night he stood all alone on a dark street corner. His sorrow filled drooped eyes swept from left to right between two alleys just up ahead of him. His head and neck drooped below his hunched shoulders while both front pockets of his pants bulged where he sheltered his trembling hands. The bleak alleys of downtown Washington, D.C., were cold and reeked of danger. Keith knew nothing of the evils that lay within its depths.
For that reason all evening he had approached each alley with the caution of an alley cat in the night, stopping periodically to thoroughly scan his surroundings. His steps were deliberate, and he felt his way along the wall and through debris beneath his feet. Each step he took signaled his presence, and caused him concern. Were there other unscrupulous wanderers lurking under the cover of darkness? He was filled with uncertainty.
His body trembled out of control, and his cramped leg muscles proved to be intermittent support at best. Then Keith fell aimlessly to the ground. He then dragged himself the rest of the way to safer refuge near a wall.
It was then that he felt the bulge in the center of his back. After reaching back and retrieving the object, he stared at it in the dark. It was a Bible, and he had no clue as to how it got there. But even though he was in the midst of bad times, the Bible sparked a smile along with fleeting memories of him and a family that loved him. He reached back and tucked the Bible, his only keepsake, deep into his pants. Soon after, a dimly lit light shone in front of his eyes, and a subtle burst of memory flashed inside his head. Bits and pieces of his past suddenly appeared in the forefront of his mind.
He struggled to sit up, and then wiped tears from the wells of his eyes. Keith placed his elbows on both his knees, his face centered and cheeks rested in the cups of his hands. He cried openly for a moment. But then he stopped for no apparent reason. A vacant stare replaced the troubled frown on his face. But then his fears and frustrations turned to full scale laughter.
"Yes, I'm Keith Theard Sinclair. Yes I am," he yelled. Blustering talk in the still of night caused his voice to carry throughout the chain of alleys, and Keith seemed to enjoy hearing himself. He continued, "I wasn't always like this you know." He began talking gibberish. But within minutes Keith was crying once again, as hard and loud as he had laughed only moments earlier.
He shook his head from side to side as if to release thoughts of a past that now appeared splintered throughout his cluttered mind.
But as he began to think about it, his mind, oddly enough, settled on days leading to April's cruise, and the mistake he made during and after her short absence. When what started as a harmless fling evolved into a life altering disaster. His eyes squinted then closed. He reached deep behind closed eye lids for fragments that combined to form a complete picture in his mind-
Chapter Two
Keith's personal status in life had risen to paramount heights. From his suburban Maryland upbringing, he'd charged straight ahead. He'd held the noble distinction of being atop a list of Washington's most prominent figures, a financial guru, to say the least. He had founded his own financial management company with little more than his vast knowledge of economics, and an uncanny ability to manage large, complicated multi-corporate revenues. And the media, in their wisdom, always kept him out front and center as a headliner.
"Mr. Sinclair's steadfast relentlessness in marketing his company's expertise in financing is only one of his many great assets," the beginning of one leading financial magazine column read. On this day, however, Keith`s head was deeply buried in a magazine of a different kind. And he thought he'd just found the perfect get-away for him and the family.
"Ah hah, I know she'll love this spot," Keith said-
But then his head snapped upward when he heard the soft knock at his office door. He placed the travel magazine in the lower left desk drawer. The door to his office opened and the lone man poked his head inside. "Keith you wanted to see me," he asked?
"Bob, come on in, buddy."
Bob was a long time friend, and as close to a partner in the company as Keith could ever have.
"I've wanted to have this little sit-down with you for some time now," said Keith, "Have a seat."
Bob was slightly older. And Keith liked how well Bob always kept a cool head, yet always spoke candidly about all things business. "Tell me you're not about to jump ship again, boss man." Bob said.
Keith smiled and replied, "No, not anytime soon, but believe me, you would be among the first to know if I did. And since we're on the subject, let's discuss the reason I sent for you this morning."
Bob smoothed his right hand along the length of his neck-tie as he seated himself. "Oh I see, I must be in trouble. Should I have my lawyer present," Bob asked, and they both laughed?
"No Bob I'm afraid not. Truth is you've done nothing short of a great job here at the office." Keith assured him.
A daring risk taker, Keith would try anything once, and still, he always landed on his feet to stand firmly atop his game. He'd amassed an enormous amount of wealth on corporate speaking circuits and turned no opportunity down if it would promote his business.
As a result he was able to provide for his family the best that life had to offer. Still, nothing made him prouder than the day he decided that it was time to move his family from there modest home in suburban Maryland into the magnificent trophy of a home in plush upper northwest Washington, D.C.
His two girls, young in age, would be able to attend the finest of private schools offered in the area. His small tight-knit family thoroughly enjoyed the amenities made possible by his wealth. He in fact viewed himself as a quiet humble man, and felt he made everyone feel comfortable in his trusting presence.
"A no nonsense business man," was how local and national newspapers and magazine articles described him at the pinnacle of his illustrious career. But close friends, such as Bob, knew him as a soft spoken gentle man. Always high spirited, Keith was known around the office for his calm mannerism. Bob would be the first to admit: Keith handled the pressures of success well.
"We haven't had a chance to really talk since I returned from my last speaking tour, Bob," Keith said, then opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a white envelope with his right hand and slapped it against the palm of his left hand. He then placed it on the left side of his desk.
Keith leaned back in his leather chair. He smoothed his thumb and index fingers along his chin while his right elbow pressed firmly into the cushioned armrest. He watched silently as Bob fidgeted anxiously in his seat across the desk from him then said, "You did a great job filling in for me during my absence, even under these tough economic times. And I want you to have something from me as a sign of my appreciation for all you've done in the past." Keith leaned forward and picked up the sealed envelope from the left side of his desk. Holding it in his right hand again, he slapped it against his left open palm.
"So I'd like you to consider taking a newly created position with salary as indicated on the enclosed document."
He then handed Bob the white envelope and watched as Bob tore into it without regard.
Bob's face gleamed with joy as he read the short memo. Keith took pleasure in the sight. With both his elbows pressed atop the desk, Keith clasped the fingers of both his hands together and pressed against them with his chin, and then waited with a smile.
"Oh my goodness Keith," Bob said, looking down at the paper in his hand. His head snapped back upward, toward Keith. "I'll take it, boss, when do I start? Yes, this is so good, thank you Keith. And please thank the Mrs. for me."
"Good. And I will. You and I both know that she's really the boss around here." Keith said. They both laughed. "So you'll start your new position on Monday morning bright and early. Now go and do some work, buddy," said Keith as they both rose to their feet. The two men shook hands.
"Thanks again Keith," Bob said then turned on his heels and exited the office.
Keith leaned back in his plush leather chair and had pleasant thoughts of April and the girls, and then Bob's smile. "Yeah, that was cool, he mumbled.
Keith's wife April and two daughters were always by his side; he was their leading man. He smiled at just the thought of them. But then thoughts of the business and his struggles within himself came to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't bare the thought of somehow losing his way, and all that he'd worked to achieve? These are tough economic times for everyone, he thought, considering his firm was doing well. But then he snapped himself out of it with a vigorous head shaking. "No," he muttered, "Business is good, and so is life," he insisted. He straightened the family's picture on the right-hand corner of his desk, and then the lamp-shade. Then his nervous energy was interrupted.
It had occurred to him once again how he'd been chasing success for so long, and had forgotten to stop and smell the roses. And he wanted to make amends. However, being armed with thoughts of righteousness did nothing to curve his appetite for the daily grind. Solving other people's financial problems and raking in money had become as natural as life itself to him, and he reveled in good health. Still, he wanted to do something special for April. But damn, when will there be time for him to break away from his own busy schedule, he thought? "Umm," he muttered. Stumped, he reached into his desk drawer for the travel magazine.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Aprilby Roy E. Howard Copyright © 2009 by Roy E. Howard. Excerpted by permission.
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