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The Swirl World

Celebrating and Elevating Black Women - mind, body, soul and spirit!


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Child Protection: A Novel of Deception

February 12, 2016 By Michelle Matthews-Calloway Leave a Comment

Child Protection: A Conversation With Author & Swirler Don Rice, Jr.

In this special Men’s Podcast edition, I’m chatting it up with Don Rice, Jr., author of Child Protection, a thrilling crime drama. Don is a Swirler, and discusses his previous interracial relationships and reveals why he loves Black women.

Child Protection: A Novel of Deception

More About Child Protection: A Novel Of Deception

All across America, families are under siege. Not just any family though; only the ones who are in no position to defend themselves. The ones who don’t have the money to hire attorneys and private investigators. And most of those families are losing.

Who or what are they under siege from? The very government agencies that are supposed to protect them, whose mandate is to serve them and provide assistance when needed. The welfare agencies.

But the worst of them are the ones that are supposed to protect the children. And they are in collusion with the police, prosecutors, and all manner of medical professionals. Even the media have jumped on this bandwagon.

In this novel, a small team of Federal agents is investigating incidents of fraud in child protection agencies. This includes false allegations of neglect and abuse as well as financial malfeasance.

While conducting their investigation, they become enmeshed in a series of actions that, at first glance, appear to conflict with their purpose: Instead of merely investigating, they find themselves working to help some of the people who are being victimized by the system. . .
I hope you enjoy this conversation with Swirler and Author Don Rice, Jr.!

If you can’t see the podcast player, click here or here.

You can also listen to the podcast on Sound Cloud!

 If you can’t see the Sound Cloud player, click here. You can also head over and listen to the show on iTunes, Stitcher Radio, Spreaker or PlayerFM.

Connect With Don!Child Protection: A Novel of Deception by Don Rice Jr

It’s easy to find Don on the web, and he loves to connect. You can find him on LinkedIn, his Facebook page, his book page on Facebook, Blogspot, Twitter and Google Plus. You can also send him an email at DCRiceJr@hotmail.com.

Shout Out To The Sistah Speak Podcast!

Sistah Speak Podcast LogoOur shout out for this episode goes to Sistah J and Sistah K of the Sistah Speak Podcast Network.

Sistah Speak includes a series of podcasts where the Sistahs discuss both reality and dramatic television shows.

The Sistahs created their podcasts to meet the need for a Black woman’s perception and honest analysis about certain shows and movies.

Follow them on Twitter @LiteraryMarie, @Aksids, @_SistahK and @SistahSpeakCast!

Want to be a guest on the podcast, or know someone who should?

Send an email to Podcast@TheSwirlWorld.com.

Be sure to “Like” The Swirl World on Facebook and subscribe to the podcast on iTunes.

You can also follow us on Sound Cloud and listen to the show on Stitcher Radio. You can also hear us on PlayerFM!

Copyright © 2016 Michelle Matthews Calloway, The Swirl World™, LLC, ASwirlGirl™, The Swirl World Podcast™, Swirl Nation™, All rights reserved. Photos used with permission. Post contains Amazon.com affiliate links.

 

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Filed Under: 2016 Posts, BW/WM, Interracial Families, Mixed Race, Podcast, Shout Outs Tagged With: book, Child Protection, crime drama, Don Rice, novel, Sistah J, Sistah K, Sistah Speak Podcast

Get Ready for HOT LATIN MEN!

May 10, 2013 By Michelle Matthews-Calloway 5 Comments

Book Cover_Fight for Love

Last week’s guest post from Miranda Santiago on Swirling with Latin men struck a chord of interest that is still reverberating.

Because a lot of you want to know more about Swirling with Hot Latin Men – (and for Pete’s sake, who can blame you???) – this week I’m presenting yet another guest post, this time from best-selling author Delaney Diamond. Delaney specializes in romance novels featuring between Black women and – you guessed it:

Hot. Latin. Men.

Yum.

Delaney is kind enough to share Chapters 1 & 2 from Fight for Love, book 2 in her Hot Latin Men series. These are stand alone books, so it’s totally ok to read the second book first.

Here’s the premise for the novel:

A former pro wrestler fights to hold on to the woman he lost, but still loves, and the son he never knew existed.

 Science teacher Rebekah Jamison lives a quiet life in the suburbs of Atlanta. Devastated by a tabloid scandal nine years ago, she ended her marriage to the man her parents never approved of.

 Rafael Lopez, former professional wrestler and “Sexiest Athlete Alive,” regrets the lapse in judgment that caused him to lose his wife. He shows up unannounced one day with some startling news, but he gets a surprise of his own. He finds out he’s a father. To get to know his son, he whisks him and Rebekah off to his home in the Hollywood Hills for the summer.

Settle down for an intriguing read – and be sure to give Delaney a shout out in the comments!

 

Chapter One

Rebekah Jamison wiped sweat from her cheeks with the back of her forearm so she wouldn’t scratch her face with the rough, dirty gloves she wore. The edges of her headscarf were damp. The cut-off denim shorts and loose-fitting tank top had seen better days, but they were comfortable, and she preferred to wear as little clothing as possible when she worked in the yard. The vegetable garden was a treat, but it could also be quite taxing in the Georgia heat.

“Mom, look!” her eight-year-old called from a few feet away. He was grinning broadly, holding a worm in his palm for her to see.

“Sweetie, put that down,” Rebekah scolded from her position on her knees.

She had encouraged him to help her plant the fall vegetables, but he was turning out to be a distraction she didn’t need. Every so often he would wander away from the task, digging in the dirt where she didn’t tell him to dig and chasing after wasps and butterflies that flitted around the small, privacy-fenced yard.

She probably would have been farther along if he weren’t “working” with her, but she enjoyed their moments together. Nine months out of the year she taught middle school kids about conservation, alternative energy, and green living as a science teacher in metro Atlanta. The biggest perk of working for the school system was that she could spend the summers with the favorite man in her life.

Rebekah rose to her feet and dusted off her knee pads. “Maybe it’s time for a break,” she announced. She removed the large straw hat providing protection from the scorching sun.

“Can I have some sweet tea?” His brown face looked up at her expectantly. He was overdue for a haircut. The loose, dark curls on his head were thick and unruly. With his cute, angelic face and big gray eyes staring up at her, she couldn’t refuse him the indulgence this time.

“Yes, but only if you drink a glass of water right after.”

“I will, I will,” Ricardo promised, racing past her toward the back door of the kitchen.

She would make sure he drank water the rest of the day. He had developed a sweet tooth of late, and she wanted to break him from the habit of sugary drinks. Besides, he needed to stay hydrated since he spent so much time outdoors.

Rebekah removed her knee pads and gloves and circled the small area where this year’s crop of summer vegetables was planted. She smiled. Last year she’d had enough squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, and green peppers to share with her parents and a couple of neighbors. This year’s crop appeared just as healthy and bountiful.

The ringing of the doorbell brought her head up.

“I got it!”

“Ricky, don’t open the door unless you know who it is first.”

He knew better, but it didn’t hurt to remind him. She hoped it was the delivery she was expecting from her sister, Samirah. They were souvenirs for the family from her latest jaunt overseas. She often sent them nice gifts from her travels. Rebekah sometimes envied her younger sister’s carefree lifestyle. Samirah had a culinary degree from Le Cordon Bleu, and she traveled the world, earning her keep as a cook in restaurants or private residences.

“Mom, come quick!”

Rebekah dropped everything in her hands and raced into the kitchen, uncertain if Ricardo’s tone expressed excitement or anxiety.

He stood in front of the open front door, staring at someone outside. As she came closer, he caught sight of her and began to hop up and down excitedly, pointing with his hand to the still-invisible person on the other side of the threshold.

“Look! Look! It’s La Sombra, Mom! It’s La Sombra!” he screamed excitedly.

Rebekah skidded to a halt, her feet no longer sure what to do since her brain temporarily ceased to function. Heavy knots piled up in her stomach, and her broken breath shivered past her suddenly parched lips.

It couldn’t be him.

Ricardo’s face was alight with glee, and his uncontrolled excitement was a comical contrast to the heavy dread pressing down on her. She moved slowly toward the door, closing her hands into tight fists to calm their shaking.

When the person came into view, her stomach muscles clenched into even tighter, more painful knots.

There was no doubt who the man was at the door. It had been nine years since she’d last seen him in person, but his image appeared on the occasional magazine, and she’d read articles about him online. Even if he weren’t a public figure and she had wanted to forget him, it would have been impossible because of the pint-sized, darker version of him bouncing up and down like a rubber ball just a few feet away.

La Sombra had been the alias he used when he was a professional wrestler. The nickname, which meant “the Shadow” in Spanish, had stuck because of his dark complexion. His real name was Rafael Lopez, and he was her ex-husband.

His gaze lifted from the small boy before him and settled on her. From the firming of his sculpted mouth and the hard glint that came into his gray eyes, she knew he’d already deduced the obvious.

The young boy whose excited reception he had just received was the son he had never known existed.

Chapter Two

Rebekah placed her hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. “Ricky, go upstairs, sweetie,” she said. “I need to have a word with…” She didn’t even know what to call him “…with Mr. Sombra.”

“But Mom…”

She gave him her stern face that meant she wasn’t playing around. “Now.”

With a heavy pout, Ricardo stomped toward the staircase.

“Ricardo Lopez,” Rebekah said, “do you want me to follow you and give you something to stomp about?”

He froze with his hand on the wooden stair rail and peered over his shoulder at Rebekah with a hurt expression on his face. “Sorry, Mom,” he said quietly. Twisting his head further without turning completely around, he looked at Rafael, who hadn’t made a move during the short tantrum. “Please excuse my behavior, Mr. Sombra. My mother raised me better than that.”

Rebekah almost smiled as he repeated almost verbatim words she’d said to him on other occasions. His pitiful expression almost undid her, but she kept her face in an unhappy scowl.

“Will I be able to get his autograph?” her son asked.

“Yes,” Rafael interjected. He stepped into the house, and the expansive width of his broad frame blocked most of the outdoor light. “Just as soon as your mother and I have a little chat.”

Ricardo’s face broke out into a happy grin, and he scampered up the stairs.

Rebekah’s heart kick-started with a thump, the matter-of-fact tone doing nothing to allay the frisson of fear that trickled down her spine. Even more disconcerting was her reaction to the deep, seductive sound of his accented voice. It scrambled her brain and sent unwelcome vibrations running through her.

She didn’t dare look at him, worried he’d see every emotion she felt. Shame. Excitement. Anxiety. She needed time to gather her thoughts so she could have a coherent conversation. The shock of his unannounced arrival sharply tipped the balance of her normally ordered day toward disorder.

Deafening silence descended between them, and Rafael was the first to break it. “We need to talk.”

As he shut the door on the outside world, Rebekah finally ventured a look at him. His thick black hair was closely shorn to his head. At five-feet-seven, she wasn’t a small woman, but Rafael dwarfed her at six-foot-three. He had an incredible physique, with muscles so densely packed the linen button-down shirt couldn’t conceal them. His muscles were tightly honed from years of weight lifting and hours of exercise, creating a fighting machine of flesh-covered steel. Each meaty bicep was the size of one of her thighs, and his lean fingers looked long enough to span the width of a basketball.

“Sexiest Athlete Alive,” headlines had proclaimed two years in a row. More recently, his rugged good looks could be seen smiling into the camera endorsing agave nectar, an all-natural sweetener exported from Mexico.

When his dark gaze rested on her, the last remnants of rational thought disappeared like a puff of smoke in a blast of wind. For a few seconds, her breath caught in her chest, and she was once again the seventeen-year-old girl who had anxiously awaited her eighteenth birthday so she could run away and marry the man of her dreams. He became the twenty-year-old rough neck from south of the border who had captured her heart and convinced her not to judge a book by its cover. His coarse exterior had disguised a tender heart and loving disposition—or so she’d thought. Her disapproving parents had been correct in their initial assessment of him. Rafael had changed once they were married, and not for the better.

“What are you doing here?” Rebekah asked.

The cold stare of his eyes lanced through her. “Is that any way to greet a man you haven’t seen in almost ten years?”

Of course not. If her beating heart had anything to say about it, he would have received a much warmer greeting. “You came here unannounced, uninvited to my house. Something tells me this isn’t a social call.”

“I came because I had something I needed to tell you—in person,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I’m on my way to New York and decided to stop over in Atlanta to see you.”

“You could’ve called first, instead of popping up unannounced. As you pointed out, it has been almost ten years.”

His lips thinned in irritation. “For the record, once I tracked you down, I did call, but you don’t have voicemail, so I couldn’t leave a message. Since I couldn’t get in touch with you, I figured it was easier to show up.”

Rebekah could have kicked herself. She had ordered the VOIP phone service over a week ago, but since she was a technophobe, she had delayed setting up the voicemail.

“I have caller I.D. I never saw—”

“My number is private. You wouldn’t see anything.”

Rebekah swallowed. Since he’d seen Ricardo, she could understand his antagonism, but she had reasons of her own to feel antagonistic toward him. “What’s so important you had to tell me in person?”

“Are we going to have this conversation in the middle of your foyer? Is your southern hospitality only reserved for people you’re expecting?”

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her toward the kitchen, and she caught a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne. She followed him on unsteady legs, conscious of the fact she looked as bad as he did good. While he was dressed comfortably in a fine linen shirt and crisply pressed dark slacks, she was self-conscious about her unattractive gardening attire and pink cotton headscarf. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, and she was certain she must smell sweaty after working in the yard.

In the kitchen, Rafael leaned against the counter, staring at her as she leaned against the counter across the room. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but she could sense the leashed tension in him.

“Well?” she said to break the uneasy silence.

She was never good at remaining quiet, and he was the complete opposite. He was the quintessential strong, silent type.

“Is he mine?”

She hadn’t expected him to ask that question first, but it was inevitable. “Yes.”

Rafael’s hands clenched into fists, and he pushed away from the counter and took two long strides toward her. Rebekah brought her hands up in a defensive motion, drawing in a sharp breath. His steps came to an abrupt halt.

“I wasn’t going to hit you,” he rasped.

“You’re not exactly known for your long fuse.” Her rapid heartbeat began to slow down.

“I would never hit a woman, no matter how much she infuriates me.” His cold, angry eyes stared into hers. “How could you do that?” he demanded in a rough voice. “How could you keep him a secret from me?”

Now came the hard part—the inadequate explanation she couldn’t even justify to herself. “I did try to contact you, but you were always traveling. It was impossible to get in touch with you.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.” He found her guilty and delivered a cutting indictment. His eyes were filled with accusation. He swiveled on his heel and stalked over to the door. He stared out the window at the backyard, his shoulders rigid and his neck muscles taut. “Dios, Rebekah, how could you not tell me?”

The beseeching sound of his voice tore at her conscience. There was nothing she could say to make what she had done acceptable. She had tried to contact him, but he was right. She hadn’t tried hard enough. They were separated and on their way to divorce when she’d found out about her pregnancy.

She had been back in Atlanta at her parents’ house, and he had already moved to California with Marty Luger. Marty had managed Rafael’s career from the time he discovered him at a local fight club in Las Vegas. They had moved there after she graduated from high school, and they got married in a small chapel off the strip.

At first, it seemed the best decision was to remain quiet. His life on the road had concerned her, and his career was taking off. With her youthful dreams crushed under reality’s ruthless boot, she had felt like an extra appendage. She was certain the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with a child, and she certainly hadn’t wanted him to think she was using their son to make claims on his impending fortune.

“I was protecting him.”

“From his own father?” Rafael grated.

“Yes! I didn’t want him exposed to your lifestyle—the drugs, the women, the drinking, and the brutality of that thing you call a sport.”

“It doesn’t excuse what you did.” His eyes lowered to her belly. “You robbed me of the chance of watching your body swell with my child and robbed me of the first years of his life.”

His bitter words were like lashes across her conscience. “I was nineteen. I didn’t know what to do at the time. It was the wrong decision, I know, but I did what I thought was best.”

“Is that all you can come up with?”

“It’s the truth, Rafe.”

His gaze swept her face. “What about later? What about when you turned twenty-one? Or twenty-two? Or even now, at twenty-eight? When exactly did you decide it was the wrong decision? When I walked through the door just now and saw him standing there, looking so much like me it’s a wonder he didn’t figure it out himself?”

“Fine!” She pushed away from the counter to face him squarely, trying to quell the trembling in her stomach. “What I did was wrong. But let’s get one thing straight, if you had been the husband you were supposed to be—if you hadn’t done what you did—I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell you about Ricardo, and you would have been by my side the entire time, instead of out in California”—she waved her hand in a sweeping gesture—“sleeping with every woman who tossed a smile your way.”

Sickening thoughts of him with other women raced through her mind. How many had warmed his bed over the years? Had they willingly done the things she wouldn’t?

His face hardened and angry color tinged the light caramel of his cheeks. “It didn’t take you long to bring that up. You couldn’t wait to throw it in my face, could you?”

Rebekah knew her comment was a low blow, but she couldn’t stop herself. Before the flash of anger, she saw the hurt in his eyes. She pushed aside the pang of guilt. She was right to feel angry, and she wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

“You know what you did.” The painful burning in her throat indicated the hurt from his betrayal hadn’t disappeared. It had only lain dormant, and seeing him again brought it back to life—almost as fresh and new as the day he’d broken her heart and rendered their marriage vows void and useless.

“Yes, I know what I did,” he agreed tersely, “and now I know what you did.”

The air was thick with the animosity that flared between them. Rebekah took a deep, shaky breath. “Throwing accusations around isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rafael conceded. He eyed her with a frown. “We need to decide what we’re going to do about Ricardo.”

Her ears perked up. “What do you mean ‘what we’re going to do about Ricardo?’”

“What do you think I mean? He’s mine.”

“He isn’t a possession, Rafe, like one of your fancy cars or your championship belt. He’s a person.”

His dark eyes flashed angrily down at her. “You think I don’t know that? But he is my son, and I intend to be a part of his life from now on. First, we need to tell him right away that I’m his father. Then, I want him to come spend time with me in California. I have no idea what he believes, but you’ll make sure he understands I did not desert him all these years.”

His dictatorial tone rubbed Rebekah the wrong way, but she bit back her angry retort. Under the circumstances, it would be an overreaction, but she wasn’t far from giving him a piece of her mind.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll have a talk with him later.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “You’ll have a talk with him now, while I’m here. You’re no longer a single parent. We’ll do this together. ”

“Do you have to talk to me like that?” she snapped.

“Only if you fight me on this. Is that what you intend to do?”

“No. Of course not. I’m worried about how this will affect him. We’re about to dump a lot on a kid who, for eight years, has never had a father. Now, all of a sudden, here you are, bigger than life. I don’t even know how he knows who you are. You retired almost two years ago, and I certainly never allowed him to watch wrestling.”

It was possible Ricardo had seen the replayed matches on television without her permission. It could even be from the occasional commercials Rafael shot. Since retiring from wrestling, he endorsed a variety of products. In addition, he’d licensed his name on a chain of gyms on the west coast.

“He’s a boy,” Rafael said. “When I was his age, I was curious about fighting. He could have found out about me—my persona—from one of his friends at school. It’s natural for boys to be into that kind of thing.”

Rebekah knew he was right, but she had no interest in fighting and tried to limit her young son’s exposure to violence. The idea of co-parenting with Rafael was daunting, and she had no idea what kind of parent he would be. He deserved the opportunity to play that role, but she’d had Ricardo to herself for eight years. She would have to relinquish any hard feelings she harbored toward Rafael and allow him to participate in all aspects of his son’s life. Her only fear was that their parenting styles would be so different he would undo everything she’d taught their son.

“About California,” she began, “what did you have in mind?”

“He could come spend the summer with me in L.A.”

“I don’t know, Rafe. The entire summer is a bit much. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? We’ll see how he handles finding out you’re his father, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Rebekah, I’m asking for one summer.” The underlying accusation being she had robbed him of eight years.

A tug of war for Ricardo’s time had already begun. He didn’t even consider they may already have plans. “I understand, but I was thinking about taking him to St. Kitts to see relatives this summer. I think it would be better if we put off this conversation until later.”

St. Kitts was a small island nation in the Caribbean where her mother was from. As children, she, Samirah, and their older brother, Adam, spent their summers there. As the years passed, they visited less frequently, but she wanted her son to be aware of his Caribbean roots. The last time he visited was at the age of five, and he hardly remembered his time there.

“All right,” Rafael agreed. Rebekah eyed him suspiciously. That was almost too easy. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, Rebekah resigned herself to what was to take place. There was no point in a delay. That didn’t keep the bundle of knots in her stomach from reappearing, and she wondered how she would make it through the difficult explanation without looking like a villain.

As they neared the staircase, she turned to Rafael. “Wasn’t there something you said you needed to tell me?” she asked.

Rafael looked intently at her, as if trying to gauge how to say what he was holding. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I came here to tell you when we signed the divorce papers nine years ago, there was a problem at the courthouse. Our papers were never filed. Legally, you’re still my wife.”

———————-

Delaney Diamond is the bestselling author of sweet and sensual romance novels with multicultural characters. Originally from the U.S. Virgin Islands, she now lives in Atlanta, Georgia. In her spare time she reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of non-fiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale.  

She never had thoughts of being a writer growing up, but now that she’s started, it’s turned out to be a great creative outlet and the ideas won’t stop coming. 

Interesting facts:

Her favorite color is yellow.

Her favorite season is spring.

Her favorite type of hero: Alpha male!

She’s an ice cream addict. Her favorite flavors are Haagen-Dazs’s pineapple-coconut and rum raisin; Breyer’s rocky road; Blue Bell’s pistachio almond. 

You can enjoy free reads and the first chapter of all her novels on her website.

Book Cover_The Arrangement

Connect with Delaney here:

Amazon book list

Barnes & Noble book list

Facebook fan page 

iTunes book list 

Book Cover_Private ActsTwitter 

Website and blog

Join in the Fray: What’s your definition of “Hot?”

All rights reserved. All work is the copyright of the respective owner, otherwise copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews-Calloway, ASwirlGirl™, The Swirl World™, Dallas, TX, USA.

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Guest Blog, Special, Uncategorized Tagged With: Black women, Black. White, Delaney Diamond, fiction, guest post, Hispanic, hot, hot Latin men, hot men, interracial, interracial dating, interracial marriage, interracial relationships, Latin men, Latino, love, Miranda Santiago, novel, Romance, swirl, swirling

Italian Delights

January 7, 2013 By Michelle Matthews-Calloway 15 Comments

Thursday I mentioned that I want to start working on a book.

I’m toying with the idea of expanding the story line and featuring the characters I used last year in a writing prompt. The prompt was posted by the moderator of an online writing group I’m a member of.

These were the guidelines:

SHORT STORY – 1000-2000 words

Deadline – July 3rd, 2011

TOPIC: July 4th

RULES:

1. NO FIRST PERSON (example I, me, my)

2. Do not go over 2000 words

3. Do have a PLOT

4. Do leave it hanging

5. Nothing sexually explicit. We aren’t doing porn, thanks

6. FINALLY: You must use these ten words at least once somewhere in your story:

BOY, DODGE, INTRINSIC, INEVITABLE, VALUABLE, ORANGE, SPACESHIP, CHEESECLOTH, FIREWORKS, ANIMAL

This is the story I submitted. Please give me your opinion.

Italian Delights

Alexa looked nervously around the room and compared her attire to that of the other ladies.

She’d worn dressy jeans with a bright orange linen tunic. Originally she’d planned to wear an animal print blouse, but later decided against it because she thought it would look too busy. Even though it was the 4th of July, she definitely didn’t want to go with a red-white-and blue color scheme – that was way too cheesy. Stilettos were normally her shoe of choice, yet this time she’d opted for low-heeled, caramel-colored leather mules. The brochure for the three-hour cooking class cautioned attendees to wear comfortable shoes. Be stylish – not stupid, Alexa had said to herself when she pushed past boxes of high heels and settled on the mules. Besides, she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. She’d completed her outfit with large hoop earrings in yellow gold. Alexa hoped the outfit looked as good on her as it had on the store mannequin.

After scanning the other women’s outfits, Alexa was satisfied that she’d been able to dodge the “overdressed” bullet and achieved the look she desired. “Less is more!” Mama always said, and this time Mama was right.

Alexa sighed inwardly. Mama never said there’d be days like this, she thought. She was 32 and still single. Born and raised in Pensacola, Florida, Alexa had graduated from Florida A & M University with a bachelor’s of science in marketing. She’d landed a job with Texas Instruments and moved to Dallas right after graduation.  Five years later she’d marched across the stage at Texas Women’s University, MBA in hand. That degree had afforded her a valuable and enviable amount of leverage, and she’d used that leverage to climb the ranks of her company.  Alexa loved learning; for her it was an intrinsic quality. Setting her sights on a PhD was inevitable. With her fast-paced work environment, enrolling in online classes at the University of Phoenix seemed like the perfect solution.

What good is it to have a wonderful career, a ton of education, and no man? Alexa thought ruefully.

Well, that’s why you’re here, Alexa Renee’ Patterson, she said to perk herself up.  Alexa received e-mail updates from five popular dating blogs and read them religiously. She’d learned that she had allowed her career and educational pursuits to consume the majority of her time and attention, leaving her little to no room for a social life or dating.

“Ladies, you have to get out to where the men are! A good man won’t drop down out of the sky in a spaceship,” the bloggers admonished.

One blogger whom Alexa greatly admired swore that she met her dream man at a cooking class. When the Whole Foods Market Alexa frequented started offering Monday night cooking classes, she viewed it as a sign and paid for a month of classes. The first Monday in July was the 4th, but the store held to the schedule, so here she was. Alexa thought it was an interesting way to spend the holiday. Tonight’s theme: Italian Delights.

Alexa scanned the room again, this time to see if any men were present. Three men were in attendance; two White and one Asian. One of the White men was with a woman who was obviously either his wife or girlfriend; ditto for the Asian man. The other White guy’s back was turned to her so Alexa couldn’t see his face. She definitely couldn’t miss his blonde hair or his height, though.  He was at least five or six inches taller than the other two men. Eyes narrowing slightly, Alexa looked around at the other people in the class. Suddenly, she realized that she was the only Black person in the entire room.

Oh boy! so much for meeting a man, she thought.

“Everybody partner up,” the stout, bearded chef with “Bob” printed on his name tag said cheerfully.

OH. NO! Alexa thought. She’d tried to get one of her three home girls to come with her, but each had refused.

“Cooking classes? You’re taking cooking classes – for a month??!” Carmen had exclaimed.

“They’re only from 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., so come on,” Alexa wheedled.

“Um, I think I’ll be b-busy,” Carmen stammered.

“Alexa, are you sure that’s a good way to meet real men?” Robin had said doubtfully. “What kind of men take cooking classes???”

“Girl, I’m not tying up my Monday nights taking some freakin’ cooking classes,” Valerie, Alexa’s bestie, had snorted. “I already know how to cook. But you knock yourself out, though!”

So here she was, in a cooking class without another brown face in the place – and no partner. Great, Alexa thought. She could hear Carmen, Robin, and Jackie hooting now!

She squared her shoulders and looked around bravely. The classes were limited to 10 and excluding the instructor, 10 people were present. She would be paired with somebody.

Bob peered at her name tag. “Um, Alexa? Gary here doesn’t have a partner. Why don’t you two partner up?”

“Gary” turned out to be the tall blonde. Alexa looked up and stared into a pair of deep blue eyes. Gary’s face reminded her of Harrison Ford in the first Raiders movie. He was even built like Harrison Ford. Goodness! Why was her heart pounding?

“I’d love to be your partner,” Gary said, his eyes twinkling. “Do you mind?”

“Why, not at all,” Alexa heard herself saying. Gary towered over her petite, five feet, one-inch frame, but she didn’t care. A little dazed (and more than a little breathless) she forced herself to listen to the instructor.

“Tonight’s theme is ‘Italian Delights,’” Bob boomed. “We’re going to make rigatoni with sausage, peas, and fresh ricotta. Now, ricotta is a delicious, creamy cheese. We’re going to make this dish just the way they do in Italy, which means we’ll strain the ricotta cheese through something called cheesecloth. . . . “

The rest of the class was a blur. Alexa and Gary laughed, talked, and cooked together like they’d known each other for years. The highlight of the class was sitting down to eat the meal, complete with a wine paring, after everything was prepared.

Gary lifted his glass of wine and turned to Alexa for a toast. “To a wonderful cooking class, with the best partner a guy could hope for,” he said, looking Alexa directly in the eyes. She nodded happily, and raised her glass in return.

Gary’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “I hope you don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but I really don’t want this evening to end. Class is over in about 15 minutes; would you like to go for coffee? The Starbucks on McKinney Boulevard stays open until midnight.”

Wow! Alexa thought. She felt the same way Gary did; she also didn’t want the evening to end.  She had never imagined that she’d ever feel attracted to a man who wasn’t Black, but the chemistry between she and Gary was undeniable. She could follow her head and hold on to old patterns of thinking, or she could follow her heart and launch out into the deep. Alexa already knew the answer.

Inwardly, Alexa took a deep breath, and jumped.  “Of course,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’d love to.”

Three hours later, Alexa was quite assured that she hadn’t jumped alone.

“When I saw you, it was like real fireworks went off,” Gary said. “I tried to see if you were there with someone. You didn’t notice, but I maneuvered my way around the room so I could be your partner.”

They talked, and laughed, and talked some more. This would be the first interracial relationship for each of them. They decided to take things slow, enjoy their time together, and see where things led.

Gary walked Alexa to her car and made her promise to call and let him know she’d arrived home safely. Once on the freeway, out of his sight, Alexa shivered. What would her home girls say???

~~~~~~~

Incredulous that Alexa followed through and went to the cooking class – and actually met a “real” man – her posse of three made sure to get every little detail before weighing in on the prospect of her dating interracially. Their responses ranged from yes, to maybe, and hell no.

“Girl, does he have a brother???” Carmen squealed.  “ I’ve wanted to swirl for the longest. Tell Mr. Gary to hook a sista UP!”

“ Hmm . . . Alexa, I don’t know about this,” Robin said reluctantly. “I guess I’m happy for you, but I’m worried at the same time. Are you sure this is what you want to do???”

Telling Carmen and Robin was a piece of cake compared to telling Valerie.

“Aw hell, Alexa, this is what I get for letting you go to some lily-white cooking class by yourself!” Valerie exclaimed. “You met some White dude and came back crazy. It will never work!”

WHOA, Alexa thought. She could definitely understand Carmen’s desire to hop on the interracial dating bandwagon. Why not be willing to try a different dating option? She could even understand Robin’s reluctance; she wanted Alexa to exercise caution because she didn’t want her to get hurt. Those responses made sense.

But Alexa was stymied by Val’s reaction. Why did Valerie say Alexa had to be “crazy?” And why did Val automatically think it wouldn’t work?

Valerie had a laundry list of reasons why: Too many cultural differences. His family and friends wouldn’t accept her. It would be too uncomfortable for Alexa to fit into “his” world, and him in “hers.” White boys can’t get-it-on like brothers can.

And the clincher?

“Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?”Valerie said.

‘Who the hell do I think am?’ Alexa thought.

What???!!!

“Val, who do YOU think I think I am???” Alexa asked angrily.

They stood there facing each other, hands clenched into fists. Alexa was amazed at the incredible amount of negative energy in the room. She was also amazed at the depth of the feelings she was experiencing. Alexa wanted what Val and any other woman wanted – a good, solid relationship with a wonderful man. If Gary fit the bill, then why should his being White present a problem to Val or anyone else?

“Alexa, the hell if I know who I think you think you are,” Valerie said, exasperated. “That’s why I asked you!”

They glared at each other; breathing heavily, faces full of fury. Suddenly, inexplicably, the foundation of their friendship, which had been rocky mere moments prior, carried them into a safe, familiar place.

They both burst out laughing.

“Girl, you’re always doing something – you make me SICK!” Valerie exclaimed as the tension left the room. “How can you DO this???” she asked. “I’m telling you now – I’m not going to go off into the deep White waters – but you – Girl, you have to tell me how YOU can!”

Slowly, quietly, and with a lot of laughter sprinkled in, Alexa told her best friend that she was terrified – but determined. She and Gary had clicked all during the class, and even more so as they later drank coffee together in Starbucks, undistracted. They shared similar values; each possessed definitive goals, and wanted the same things from life. Of course Alexa had met men with goals and values. Yet, she and Gary experienced a connection that even in those first hours seemed to transcend their ethnicities. Alexa was willing to explore the connection further, and so was Gary.

“So Girl, THIS is what I want to know,” Val said slyly. “You sure you’re gonna be able to ‘do that thang’ with him???”

Alexa’s jaw dropped, and then she shook with laughter. Leave it to Valerie!

Before Alexa could muster up a response, her cell phone rang. It was Gary, and his voice sounded strained. Alexa’s heart plummeted. There was something about the tone of his voice that made her very uneasy . . . .

 

Join in the Fray: What do you think of this story? What do you think happened to Gary?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and please leave some feedback!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

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Filed Under: NaBloPoMo Challenge, Series, Uncategorized Tagged With: Black, Black women, Black. White, BlogHer, book idea, cheese, cooking, cooking classes, interracial, interracial dating, interracial marriage, interracial relationships, Italian, NaBloPoMo, novel, plot, romantic comedy, short story, swirling, syspense, Whole Foods Market, Writing, writing challenge

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I’m Michelle Matthews-Calloway, and I’m A Swirl Girl! Greetings to you from The Swirl World. We encourage Black women to expand their relationship options by dating and marrying interracially. Our overarching mission is to see Black Women live their best life. Come Swirl with us in The Swirl World™, where we celebrate Black women and the diverse men who love us!™

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