Excerpt
"Solomon Shepherd! If you don't get over here you better! You know good and well I was waiting on you." Standing arms akimbo on her her gaunt hips, Jewel's voice held the quiet undertow of dangerous flood waters. Approximately ten feet from her, eyes squinted in a glassy, drunken stupor, Solly half-leaned, half-stood over a round table covereed with a checkered oilcloth. Jewel's eyes traveled down to his large brown hands encircling a foamy mug of beer. His dark brown features--the color of polished onyx--once so handsome to her--ran together like a broken egg. His neon- red eyes blazed with the shock of recognition when he saw Jewel.