B. Episode 5

“Finding raw talent is like finding a beautiful diamond, but turning that talent into a brand is like owning the entire diamond mine. You follow me?” Mr. White asked his management team; leaning back in his over-sized captain’s chair. “Today we are going to meet a diamond in the rough. This woman has been sending me demos for two years. She has the gift, but she needs it to be packaged.”

“Excuse me, Mr. White.” Melvin was a new executive at White House Records and anxious to make his mark in the business. His recent MBA from Harvard gave him the finest education, and now the 25 year old scholar lusted for fortune and fame. “If she, the talent in question, has the “gift”, then what was the purpose of delaying her entry into the program for two years?”

The other three executives, seasoned in years and experience, traded smirks and expressions of arrogance regarding the young rookie’s inquiry. Noticing their responses, Melvin appeared to sink into his impressive Savile Row business. His hands twisting the cap on his pen until the cap popped off.

“Young Melvin that is a good question, despite the noticeable condemnation of your peers.” Mr. White turned to look at the older executives. “They were once in your shoes and displayed the same lack of knowledge; but I taught them as I will teach you.”

The older executives corrected their relaxed postures and wiped the grins off their faces.

“To answer your question,” Mr. White paused to check the time on his Hublot Black Caviar Bang. The million dollar watch had been a gift and was conspicuously the only thing black he ever wore on his colorless body. The watch was also the back-handed topic of constant conversation among those in his inner circle. “She was not hungry enough.”

Then he laughed a wide mouth laugh, causing his head to sway from side to side. The others joined in.

At that moment, a modelesque beauty opened the door to the glass laden conference room.

“Mr. White, and associates, she is here”, notified the administrative assistant.

“Thank you, Tammy. I am going to send Mr. Melvin Banks out to greet her in exactly five minutes.” Mr. White held up his hand to display five fingers and then casually motioned for her to leave.

Once the door was magnetically closed, Mr. White gave each executive their assignment and adjourned the business meeting with one minute to spare.

Melvin’s sleek, tall frame and model looks, walked ever so slightly on his toes down the long marble tile hallway to the front of the apartment lobby. The beautiful assistant and another woman, equally as pretty, were reviewing something on the computer screen to his right. Plasma screens were hung on two adjacent walls, one with audible music videos, and the other with the silent stream of news from CNN. And to his left, seated in a white leather armchair was Belicia. Her head was down, eyes closed, and her hands clasped together in a prayer pose.

Melvin placed his face close to Be’s face but without touching her. He was next to her for ten seconds, listening to the rhythm of her breath, before she flinched from the awareness of his sweet smelling presence and opened her eyes. She tried to look out of the corner of her eyes to see the young man so close to her countenance but was too afraid to turn her head.

Then Melvin moved in as close as humanly possible without contact and whispered in her ear, “Are you hungry?”

B. Episode 5

Change in Postings

Well, I'm back and more blessed than ever. Actually, I have started a new project today that will take me into the fall (at least). Therefore, the frequency of postings (stories) is being augmented, effective immediately, for a paying job. You understand?

Instead of daily posts there will be weekend posts! Yes, the exclamation point means there is cause for excitement, because with this new schedule, the stories will be less choppy, and the time span between postings will allow for more comments and critiques. Yeah!!! Just thinking about it makes me all warm and fuzzy.

I am happy that God has given me this new opportunity and I am also pleased to continue sharing what is hidden deeply within my imagination. Blessings to all and don't forget to join me this weekend.

Taylor

Change in Postings

Another delay

As much as I want to continue these stories, my once delayed vacation is back on! This is good news for me but unfortunately my mini-dramas are on hold until I return, or unless I find that I just cannot stay away. Either way, I'll be back soon (next Monday at the latest)!

Thanks for your patience and for reading Pulp Lore.

Another delay

B. Episode 4

Previously in the Land of B. Episode 3

The W Hotel in downtown Atlanta was a hotspot for the rich and famous, and their assiduous brood of groupies. Belicia arrived there early, not fully knowing what to expect. It had been a long time since she had been to the W. In fact it had been short of an eternity since she had gone outside of her Midtown neighborhood. When he left she made it her business to learn how to do everything and get everything she needed within a two-mile radius. Because she did not want anyone to notice her; she wore dark sunglasses from Summer to Spring, with black leggings, a wife-beater, long sweater, and ballet flats. To save on the expense of costly haircuts and color, her hair was often pulled back in a sleek chignon.

However, today was different. Mr. White had called her last night. And for this meeting of a lifetime, she wore a fitted BCBG dress with black ankle boots and a red wrap. Although Belicia was not a fashionista, she attempted to dress to impress the infamous dream-maker. But ultimately, she knew it was not her wardrobe that would be the deciding factor.

As Be walked toward the concierge desk, she recalled the numerous times she heard her husband talking about him. He would always invite Mr. White to the events he promoted. Sometimes the legendary producer would make an appearance but not often. He was intentionally obscure. His only predictability was his trademark white suits and his infallible eye for talent.

“Ms. Foster to see Mr. White, please.”

The tall, dark-skinned man with a beautiful smile standing behind the desk, professionally acknowledged Belicia.

“Ma’am, do you have your picture I.D.?”

“Yes.” Belicia passed her license to the man, who took it, gave her a glance and handed it back.

“Ms. Foster, please follow me.”

The man led her through an expansive blue room to an elevator on the opposite side of the hotel. He stepped inside, turned a key on the panel, pressed the button, and gingerly stated, “He’s expecting you. Good luck.”

Before Belicia could thank him and offer a tip; the man disappeared and she was all alone. The mirrored elevator doors closed and she was transported to the penthouse floor. Her stomach dropped from anticipation. After years of struggling, hoping and dreaming; she was about to meet her savior.

B. Episode 4

A little ditty about Drake and Nona

The previous episode of Drake and Nona

“Oh, Father God in Heaven!” exclaimed Nona’s mother, dropping the kitchen knife. “Why hast thou forsaken me?”

The sudden and loud introduction sent Nona tumbling over; losing control of her stilelottos, her phone and unplugging the Bose CD player at one fell swoop.

“Ouch!” Nona blasted.

“Lord, you said, raise them in your holy admonition and you would bless and keep them safe from harm,” lamented Ms. Parks; her head tilted back and both arms surrendered to heaven.

“Mother, please. I am a thirty-three year old professional woman, who owns a home with a doorbell. Why didn’t you use it?”

“I did the best I could Lord. I took her to church, prayed with her, and tried to be a good example,” Ms. Parks continued her plea before God and ignored Nona.

“Mother! Please knock it off. God knows I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Mrs. Parks managed to snap out of her impromptu call to Jesus, and headed toward the chaise lounge.

“Then why did I find you here with your butt in the mirror?”

Nona slipped on a silk robe hanging on the inside of her closet door. She tied it in a knot on the side and exchanged her red stilettos for pointy gold bedroom slippers.

“Not that I OWE you an explanation, but I was just trying out my new camera phone.”

“Is that the whole story?”

“Yes,” Nona snapped with slight conviction about her half-truth, “for now.”

“Okay, for now.” Mrs. Parks got up to leave. “I just hope you know what you are doing.”

“Mother, I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. So why are leaving, you just got here.”

Mrs. Parks walked downstairs and Nona followed a few steps behind. Nona wanted to hug her mother and assure her that she was responsible and had not left her Christian roots, but she resisted.

“I only stopped by to give you these,” reaching into the pocket of her suit jacket. “These are the tickets to the Virtuous Women’s event tomorrow night. Last month, you said you and your friend Toni wanted to come; so here.”

Nona accepted the tickets. “Thanks Mom. Yeah, I had forgotten, and Toni’s out of town at the moment, so...”

“Do what you will. It’s my treat. I hope you will be there, but if not, that’s okay too.” Mother Parks grabbed Nona’s chin gently and stared her directly in the eyes as if to look into her soul. “I truly love you Nona.”

“I know Mom. I love you too.”

“Well prove it next time by locking your door,” Mrs. Parks said jokingly.

They both smiled, and Nona watched her Mother walk off the porch and get into her car and drive off.

Just then Nona’s phone rang. Nona closed the door, locked it this time and ran upstairs to her cell phone, still lying on the floor.

“Hello.” Nona plopped on her overstated queen size poster bed. She propped a pillow underneath her back, closed her eyes and allowed her legs to move gracefully above her head.

In a low voice she could hear Drake breathe, “Hey Babe. I missed you, so where are my pictures?”

A little ditty about Drake and Nona

Note from the Author

Okay, I deserve a break too...the stories will resume on Sunday.

Blessings!

Leah

Note from the Author

B. Episode 3

Previously - Episode 2

A breeze swept gently across Be’s face bringing a slight smile. Still holding tight to her pillow and the warmth of a tattered down comforter; a single tear rolled down her cheek lingering at the corner of her mouth before making its mark on the sheets. The soft hum from the air conditioner met with the rattling of the train on the nearby railroad track. Be was used to those noises and had learned to sleep right through. Even the midday conversations from neighbors in the breezeway did not faze her. The phone was the only sound that could get a reaction from Be when she was sleeping this hard, and it hardly ever rang.

Just as she began to shift her fetal position to the right, the telephone rang. Be felt around for the phone with her left hand, knocking it off the cradle on the night stand before picking it up to look at the caller I.D. The number did not look familiar, and since she did not want to make a bad impression of sounding like a drunk in the middle of the day; she allowed the call to go into her voicemail. Be stared anxiously at the phone until the red signal began to blink; indicating that a message had been left.

"God, I hope it’s him. Please let this be the answer I have been waiting for," was her only morning devotion.

Not quite ready to check her unknown caller's message, Be went into the kitchen and poured herself a blend of orange juice and Sprite. She then straightened up the kitchen, putting clean dishes into the cabinets and wiping the counters and knobs. On occasion she would stop and stare off into space.

Be walked a short distance back into the only bedroom in her small apartment. After removing the books from her bed and stacking them neatly on the corner bookshelf, she carefully made her bed, tucking in the corners, fluffing pillows, and neatly arranging the decorative shams.

Then she picked up the cordless phone and carried it into the bathroom .

“I am a winner, “ Be began to recite in the mirror. Her mouth was filled with toothpaste but she kept on quoting her daily mantra. “I am successful. Things work out for me. I am a winner.”

Once her face was washed and she had combed her hair, Be sat down on the toilet seat and checked her message. With each press of the keys, her stomach tightened.

Finally, a man’s voice could be heard :

“Belicia Foster, my name is Mr. White. I believe you have been trying to locate me. I will be at the W Hotel downtown tomorrow at 3PM. Your name will be left at the concierge desk. Bring your picture I.D. and bring the gift. ”

B. Episode 3