WHEN FATE SMILES

"Are you all right?" I heard shouting and gunfire...

"We were starting to load the chemicals when a fire-fight broke out in the storeroom.

One of their officers was killed; several of the Cuban soldiers were wounded. Evrett got shot but it's only a superficial wound.

Fifi hesitated then declared, "Lafayette wasn't so fortunate. He got hurt bad...real bad. For the first time she paused and took a deep breath, enabling her to sniff back her tears.

Rocky climbed off his lap and stood over him. He looked up at her to protest or maybe to gain her empathy, but something in her look stopped him. She was not being cruel nor did she mean to intentionally confound him. For that moment she was as inarticulate as he was frustrated. However her look was warm and pleaded for tolerance; so much so that Lafayette's next words, instead of railing, were meek and pleading.

"What do you want from me Rocky?"

She bent forward and took his limp hand---he couldn't stop her---and she tugged until he was up from his seat. Then, still holding his hand firmly, she turned and led him into her bedroom.

"I oughta shoot this nigga lovin' puta."

"Put the gun away...and move out," Number-Three [Badass] ordered crisply.

Instead Number-One [Badass] turned to where Lafayette had fallen. Lafayette was in a semi-crouched position to his rear. Instead of moving away he threw a rolling body block in the direction of Number-One. The explosion of Numbers-One's pistol, as he fired wildly above their heads, was so close it deafened Lafayette who again drove his shoulder into Number-One's upper body; trying for enough force to break his ribcage.

Cassandra was still on her knees gasping for breath. Lafayette turned in time to see her slump forward, in what seemed like slow motion then turn slightly sideways until she was reclining on the pavement. For the second time that day she appeared to have completely lost consciousness.

But [in my dream] neither of you could hear me, or see me, or even acknowledge I was there," Lafayette protested softly.

"Poor baby."

"You don't care do you?"

"I'm really sleepy if that's what you mean. And besides we women often disregard what you guys say. We have to. Sometimes you try to make sense and you just make mess. You don't mean to lie---you just do."

After the author graduated from the Los Angeles Jr. College of Business he found immediate success working in an office. He moved on from there to own and operate his own small business and, even though he suffered through two divorces as well as the eventual demise of his company, he continued to revel in the development of the four children that were products of his marital unions.

Still his most precious gift, the expression of his fertile imagination through the written word, was not only being neglected; it was being totally ignored. Eventually he was inspired to fulfill the pact he made with his Maker---vowing that if he would be blessed with recovery from a life-threatening illness---he would no longer waste time doing over again what he'd already shown he could do well.

He still has a "day job" but acknowledges that the ecstasy that now fills his life comes from knowing he is honoring his true essence. He has been writing seriously since the mid nineties and has had two of his short stories published, but is this novel---When Fate Smiles---that is most in keeping with the solemn promise he made to God.