This is a combination of five co-authors writing about a common subject and when it is finished all five stories will blend in together with one theme. The game when played will separate the weak from the strong.
Excerpt
Excerpt from Chapter Five written by Wanda M. R. Garrett
Memories surfaced of his handsome frame standing in the doorway of my kitchen with his kids surrounding him. A smile stretched across my face at the thought. Russell was not only a good lay he was my friend. Our conversations had no limitations. We confided in each other; and he was one of the few people I would let into my world. Since he had so many kids, I decided we were better off as friends rather than lovers. We hadn't seen each other in months, so I looked foward to the date. I entered the restaurant-Russell hadn't arrived yet; so I went into the cocktail lounge at Tiffany's to have a martini and wait for him. One, two...I was on my third drink when Russell belatedly approach the bar.
He knew how I felt about a lot of things, especially being on time. "Belinda, I'm sorry I'm late. Gotta phone call and had to settle a financial dispute. Please don't be upset. I know how you are about punctuality, but this just couldn't wait. Are you ready for lunch?" "Lunch!" I yelled, not realizing that my voice escalated an octave. "Russell, do you realize I've been waiting for you an hour? You're ready for lunch and I'm ready for another drink." "Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" "Who are you to tell me when I've had enough to drink?" I think my words slurred at that point. "I'm going to order one more drink then we can have lunch, okay?" "Belinda," Russell pleaded. "I'm going to pass on lunch today; we can do this another time, okay?" I looked up at Russell and his fine self and said, "Whatever." "Goodbye, Belinda, I can't put up with this anymore."
Then he stormed away. I established eye contact with the bartender and motioned for another martini. He came over and leaned across the bar only to whisper to me, "I think you've had enough to drink. Let me call you a cab to take you home." I looked at him with an expression that if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times. I wasn't asking for his advice or his opinion. I didn't speak, just turned in my seat to get up, but I must've tripped on something-cause I stumbled and hit the floor.
