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T.R. Braxton, author website
T.R. Braxton
T.R. Braxton
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Montebello Publishing
ISBN-10: 0984124403
Type: Fiction
Pages: 260
Copyright: April 22, 2009
ISBN-13: 9780984124404
In this gripping work of suspense, Terrell Hawkins, his closest cousin, and his best friend set out to have a good time on a Saturday night. Alcohol, marijuana, and immodest girls who like to partake in both are part of that pursuit. They all expect to be hung over the next day, but they do not expect the tragic accident that will unravel their lives that very night. Nor do they expect their horrible response to embroil them in a struggle to avoid the authorities while growing increasingly distrusting of each other. Terrell and the others quickly learn that dirty hands can lead to desperate acts and that the worst of circumstances can cause even the best of friends to become enemies.
Dirty Hands is a fast paced work of suspense set in the tough town of Baltimore, Maryland. The story chronicles the fallout when a drug and alcohol fueled gathering spirals into tragedy. Terrell Hawkins and his closet cohorts are left to conceal the poison fruit of the calamitous events, but every effort to do so brings unwanted results. The guilty trio tries to stay one step ahead of the police while their previously unshakeable bond falls into deadly disarray. Surprises mount and tension builds with each page, sure to send the reader on a delighted sprint to the conclusion.
Excerpt
__________ 1_______________
A diminutive young woman lay sprawled at Terrell Hawkins’s feet. Her motionless form confessed no sign of life.
“She’s dead.” Terrell’s cousin Brock confirmed his fears, speaking in a choked voice from the tiled bathroom floor.
The girl’s shapely chest did not rise and fall in the hallmark of the living. A ring of blood highlighted the hair at the crown of her skull. Her head collapsed to one side when Terrell pressed his middle and index fingers against her neck. Neither her neck nor her wrist revealed a pulse.
“I told you… she’s dead,” Brock moaned. He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears.
Terrell’s first thought was that if he had kept a low profile while Monet was visiting her sick mother in Virginia Beach, this horrible situation couldn’t possibly have occurred. Instead, he agreed to let Brock and their friend Shawntae bring some random sluts to his apartment in northeast Baltimore. If he had said no or at least not actively participated in the debauchery that ensued, there wouldn’t be a dead girl in his bathroom. But he had participated quite vigorously. His mind returned to earlier that night, recalling the events that led him into a drunken, post-coital slumber as the girl at his feet lost her life.
__________ 2______________
Red plastic cups and bottles of alcohol in various states of depletion littered the floor of Terrell’s living room. Cigar guts and ashes rested in two paper bowls that served as makeshift ashtrays.
1 AM approached as a malevolent sky threatened the early June night. Plied with alcohol and marijuana, Tia and Tiffany Jenkins danced suggestively as Brock and Shawntae leered at them from Terrell’s couch.
Their friend Heloise sucked her teeth. “They always act so raunchy.” She sat next to Terrell on his loveseat, close enough for her skirted thigh to brush against his leg.
He leaned toward her, struggling to hear over the blaring stereo. “What did you say?”
“I said they act so raunchy!” Heloise’s throaty voice was like honey in Terrell’s ear. She had a pleasant, vaguely fruity smell. Her breasts were full, her legs long and lean.
Terrell had only intended to play the polite host to Heloise, giving Brock and Shawntae time and space to get the two sisters into bed. That was before he’d started drinking. Though he hadn’t had one pull of marijuana, Heloise’s stunning attractiveness combined with the mind numbing effects of alcohol to push Monet far from his mind.
Terrell smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I like quiet girls- like you.”
Heloise giggled. “I like you, too.” She was no more sober than Terrell was.
The sisters continued their antics, grinding against each other shamelessly.
Riled up by the lurid dancing, Shawntae placed a tree like arm around Tiffany’s tiny waist, pulling her tight against him. “Come on, girl,” he said, pressing his crotch against her from behind. “I got somethin’ betta for you to grind on.”
Terrell smiled as Shawntae and his soon to be notch on the belt walked toward Malik’s bedroom. Malik had left Baltimore for Brooklyn immediately after Morrison University’s spring semester ended. His uncle had lined up a good summer job for him there. It had been agreed upon that whoever had the good fortune of putting some mileage on Malik’s bed springs would be responsible for straightening his quarters afterward. Terrell had no doubt that Shawntae would clean up with a huge grin plastered on his face.
Moments later, Heloise asked to see Terrell’s bedroom. He knew that he should brush her off, but he was far too drunk and she was far too sexy to refuse. He regarded her statuesque frame as they entered. Two-inch pumps brought her almost even with his 6-1 height.
They hadn’t been on Terrell’s bed for ten minutes before Heloise confessed that the weed and alcohol had made her quite horny. She asked if Terrell felt as horny as she did.
“What’s it look like?” He slurred, whipping Terrell Junior out. Monet was not even a shadow of a thought in his drunken, lustful mind.
Heloise giggled, idly brushing his little friend with her left hand.
“Whatchu’ want me to do wit’ that?”
“You’re a big girl. I don’t think you need instructions.”
After Heloise finished treating his trouser snake like the world’s sweetest lollipop, Terrell plowed her in various positions. He paused once when he heard a crashing noise.
He looked down at Heloise. “You hear that?”
“Who gives a fuck?” She chuckled, wrapping her legs tighter around the small of his back. “Finish fuckin’ me. You were doing so GOOD.”
Finish he did, giving her another dozen pleasurable thrusts or so before spilling his load into the condom he wore. He and Heloise then collapsed into drunken, sexually satisfied slumber.
They remained in that state until Brock crept into the room and shook Terrell awake.
__________ 3_______________
Terrell’s awakening senses failed to make out what his cousin was saying. “Wh-uuut?” he groaned.
“Shh!” Brock placed a trembling finger over his own trembling lips. “Git up. I gotta show you something.”
Drunken grogginess did not stop Terrell from recognizing the shakiness in his cousin’s voice. He slowly rose from the bed, taking care not to awaken Heloise.
The previously foreboding sky had given way to a tremendous rainstorm as Terrell slept. Flashes of lightning and crackling thunder announced heaven’s fury.
Terrell slipped his boxers back on and closed the bedroom door behind him. He became aware of the eerie silence that permeated his apartment.
Brock’s eyes were as big as saucers. His body was slick with sweat.
“What’s wrong, Cuz?” Terrell whispered.
“I fucked up, man,” Brock moaned, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “I really fucked up.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
Brock motioned for Terrell to follow him. They walked into the bathroom. Tia lay still there, across the naked floor tiles.
Having confirmed the girl’s death, Terrell hauled his much smaller cousin to his feet. He stared into Brock’s distraught eyes. “Tell me how this happened.”
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