Marriage Vows Under Fire Mega Series 1: Gold Bands In The Fire. Lanette Zavala

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Marriage Vows Under Fire Mega Series 1: Gold Bands In The Fire - Lanette Zavala

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Taylor mumbled knowing his new partner would not likely understand him had he spoken aloud again.

      Always understanding each other while dividing the daily gross revenues at fifty percent each, the men often grew frustrated over the language barrier by the end of each day’s hard labor.

      Reyes pointed toward the dull sun. “Vamanos, por favor.”

      “Go home? Ready?”

      “Home. Si. Vamanos a mi casa.” Reyes pointed at Taylor’s old pick-up truck.

      “Let’s go,” Taylor responded as he well understood Reyes at that moment. The only one of the two with transportation, he daily drove Reyes to and from their same work location while carrying items in the back of the truck. Their homes were only a ten-minute drive apart – their work site being about a five minute drive from Taylor’s home.

      A typical drive home from their nine-hour independent street-retail routine was usually quiet – especially on Saturdays, their busiest day of the week. During their ride home, both men often rested in silence – wiping sweat from their brows and awaiting the moments when they could bathe for bed after dinner. But, with both hats and britches almost out of stock, it was time to discuss replenishing their inventory.

      Taylor stared down at the cardboard shoebox full of numerous coins, several single bills, five-dollar bills, and even some tens. He realized that some of that money had to be used for purchasing more materials and wondered how he could ever convey this to his partner. His mind wondered even further adrift concerning how Geraldine and Angelica could pull themselves away from daily household chores to hand-manufacture more inventory that they were going to urgently need. Taylor knew that, by the following day’s end, there would be nothing left to sell at the rate items had been purchased over the past three weeks. His only choice was to stop the truck on the side of the road.

      Reyes stared at him with a frown. Cars passed by the parked truck in what seemed like a rush. But it didn’t faze Taylor. He knew he had to address an uncertainty despite the language barrier. Otherwise, their new small business venture was bound to fail.

      December 31, 1979

      No other place through all of Houston could have promised her a chance to see the secret crush and love of her heart one last time. She discreetly pulled her hand up to her mouth, as if she were scratching her nose, and blew. Perfect. The mint did last after all. Just in case Jimmy Maxwell arrived within the next few minutes, her breath was fresh enough to talk to him upon the rare chance.

      Standing nervously in the corner, diagonal from the gymnasium entrance, she could no longer see whether the school’s most popular basketball player, her heart’s most sought desire, had arrived yet. The dance floor, blocking her view, included all the school’s best dancers – except her and Jimmy.

      “Tip!” She heard a familiar voice yell her nickname. “What are you doing over here by yourself, Girl?”

      She turned to find the hippest blond girl she had ever met – and even had ever seen. A giggle always escaped through her lips to see her dance better than most of their Black girlfriends. She was one of the best at everything she did – including being a best friend. Gladys Lightfoot approached her from the crowd of couples.

      “Just taking one last good look,” Tiphany Taylor responded, masking her sadness. She took a deep breath and forced a smile across her silky dark caramel face that never needed make-up in order to radiate her beauty.

      Gladys was too perceptive to be fooled. “Girl, you’re only moving about thirty minutes away.”

      “And I’ll be at another school,” Tiphany reminded her. “I wanted to graduate with y’all next year.”

      “But it’s not like you’ll be out of town,” Gladys pointed out as she grabbed a cup of the punch from the nearby table. “I don’t think…”

      “Gladys, I saw about three guys stop by three different times and add their own spike to that stuff,” Tiphany warned her friend. “I wouldn’t drink it.”

      Skeptical, Gladys glared at the full punch bowl.

      “It’s spiked. I wouldn’t drink it,” Tiphany warned a group of others passing by for refreshments. “Unless you want a mega New Year’s Eve buzz, you can grab a soda from the cooler over there.”

      “Girl, hang up a sign and get…out…on…the…dance floor!” Gladys laughed.

      “I don’t have a dance partner,” Tiphany explained with a deliberate carefree shrug.

      “Oh, well, maybe you’ll be able to find Jimmy around here.”

      “Have you seen him?” Tiphany asked discreetly. Not even her own group of closest friends knew how she longed for Jimmy’s attention – and how only in her dreams, he was the love of her life.

      On the dance floor, he had been her faithful partner since her freshman year, which was his sophomore year. Every school dance and almost every mutual friend’s house party gave them opportunities to show out on the dance floors – together. Jimmy had even taught her some of her best moves. But it was always on the dance floors.

      He rarely spoke to her in the hallways at school. At parties and dances, he was always swallowed up by crowds of friends and girls once he finished dancing with her. Tiphany actually hung onto every smile he had thrown to her in passing.

      He seemed to always have one girlfriend for every semester since Tiphany, as a new freshman, had met him at a victory dance. Those girls were so pretty, she thought. How could she compare? He seemed to like the girls with long hair. Hers rose just above her shoulders. And she spent overtime to prepare it daily. While her efforts often paid off with an abundance of compliments about her styles, she often wondered if there existed any hidden secret that could stimulate her hair growth.

      Everyone had always noticed that most of the school’s dark-skinned brothers liked the red or high-yellow girls and that the light-skinned guys liked the darker girls. But what did it matter to Jimmy? Standing six-foot three inches tall, in his chocolate complexion, he never seemed moved by skin tone. But he apparently liked hair and curves. His good looks enabled him to choose from a wide range of starry-eyed girls.

      Tiphany ran her hands over her curled strands, which had been in sponge rollers all day until the time of the dance, as she continued to scan the area. Even though she only expected him to go through the same motions that he went through with her at every party and dance, she could feel her stomach turn with anticipation.

      “He’s been looking for you.”

      “Who?” Tiphany was clueless, lost in her thoughts.

      “You know. Jimmy! I saw him on the other side of the gym. He hasn’t even been on the dance floor yet.”

      Tiphany’s eyes widened. She could feel her heart pounding. “Are you serious?”

      “Tip, have you ever seen Jimmy dancing with anybody else but you? Nobody has,” Gladys informed her, apparently surprised by Tiphany’s response. “Until it’s time to slow drag! That’s the only time he’ll dance with somebody else. Hey, has he ever slow danced with you?”

      Tiphany knew that, if she opened her mouth, she could inadvertently reveal something Gladys could certainly grasp in a blink. She just looked away at the crowds

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