Skyscraper: A Novel - Hardcover

Zane

 
9780743457033: Skyscraper: A Novel
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 074345703X ISBN 13: 9780743457033
Verlag: Atria Books, 2003

Inhaltsangabe

Most corporations hand out bonus checks or gift certificates for Christmas, but Wolfe Industries hands out drama. Skyscraper chronicles the week before the annual Christmas party at Wolfe Industries, an African American-owned automobile manufacturer.
Chico, a nineteen-year-old mail-room clerk who still lives with his overprotective mother, is the typical young man when it comes to sex. He doesn't turn it down. So, when Zetta Wolfe, the wife of CEO Tomalis Wolfe, attempts to seduce him, he jumps at the opportunity. Meanwhile, Anastasia, a twenty-five-year-old secretary, along with her best friend and coworker, Shakia, spends her nights in the secret penthouse maintained by Wolfe executives for partying and wild sex. She has higher aspirations though -- she wants to be the next wife of the CEO. Tomalis has never actually participated in the in-office sexual activities, but Anastasia plans to seduce him by the end of the year.
Diana, a thirty-five-year-old single mother is frustrated with her current position as an executive assistant. Every time she approaches her boss, Bradford, about the possibility of a promotion, he makes her promises that he never keeps. Meanwhile, Edmund, a parking-garage attendant, has the hots for her, but she won't give him the time of day. That is until two of her girlfriends drag her to a holiday cabaret and she discovers another sexier side to this blue-collar man.
The week leading up to the Wolfe Industries annual Christmas party is unforgettable, as the lives of four people who have barely interacted with one another in the past begin to cross paths in the most disturbing ways. By the time the party is over, they will be lucky if the skyscraper is still standing.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Zane is the New York Times bestselling author of Afterburn, The Heat Seekers, Dear G-Spot, Gettin’ Buck Wild, The Hot Box, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Nervous, Skyscraper, Love is Never Painless, Shame on It All, and The Sisters of APF; the ebook short stories “I’ll be Home for Christmas” and “Everything Fades Away”; and editor for the Flava anthology series, including Z-Rated and Busy Bodies. Her TV series, Zane’s Sex Chronicles, and The Jump Off are featured on Cinemax, and her bestselling novel Addicted is a major motion picture with Lionsgate Films. She is the publisher of Strebor Books, an imprint of Atria Books/Simon & Schuster. Visit her online at EroticaNoir.com.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Friday, December 15th

Washington, D.C.

Chico

"Chico, you better get your behind out that bed, boy!" Momma yelled through my bedroom door because she couldn't open it. I always kept it locked because I grew tired of her invading my room without a courtesy knock first. Besides, I was nineteen and that made me a man. Even though I was residing at her crib, a man is still a man. "Chico, do you hear me?"

"I hear you! Damn!" I yelled back at her.

I glanced at my alarm clock. Shit, it was after seven-thirty and I'd slept through the buzzer again.

"Chico, don't you dare curse me, boy! And you have the audacity to do it right here at Christmastime? Don't forget who brought your behind into this world. I brought you into it and -- "

"I'll take you out," I said, finishing the tired ass sentence for her.

I hopped out of bed and yanked my door open. Momma took a step back like she'd seen a ghoul or goblin or something. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I looked jacked up since I'd hung out the night before with Razor and Miceal. We'd kicked back watching a tape of the Felix Trinidad/Fernando Vargas fight. It was a great ass fight, too. Both of the brothers meant serious business. Talk about having heart; they had heart and then some. That tape is one of those things you can watch over and over again to get inspiration to do the damn thing with your own life. Too many people give up too quickly, but not the kid. I'm going to be somebody major and my word is my bond.

"You look horrendous," Momma told me like I wasn't aware of that already. "Chico, have you been drinking again?"

"What if I have? I'm over eighteen. Besides, like you said, it's Christmastime. It's a time for celebration."

"Last time I checked the drinking age in this country was twenty-one. You have no business breaking the law."

"Momma, it's a crying shame that I'm old enough to go to war and get my head blown off for this country but I can't go into a bar and order a beer. If downing a few with the boys is going to get me locked up, then so be it."

Momma smirked and then laughed. "Chico, you wouldn't last five minutes in jail."

I didn't like her implication that I was weak. I didn't like it at all.

Momma straightened up a couple of figures in a Nativity scene she had displayed on an antique table with three legs in the hall. I'd broken the fourth leg off -- it was the first thing I could get my hands on -- to chase off a bill collector who didn't understand that broke meant fucking broke. Thank goodness Momma had finally stopped mixing secular and religious decorations together. My friends would tease me mercilessly as a child when they'd visit and see a reindeer in the manger, elves chilling with the three wise men, or a statue of Santa seemingly in deep conversation with a statue of a black Jesus.

"God help me! What am I going to do with you? I didn't raise you to hang out at all hours of the night doing horrid things."

"Momma, drinking a beer or two isn't horrid. It's called being a man and relaxing. Going out and robbing banks and jacking cars is horrid. Do you really expect me to sit around acting like a punk while my boys do their thing? Huh? Do you?"

Momma stormed off down the hall toward the kitchen. "You need to start going back to church. That's what your behind needs to be doing. Reverend Stevens has been asking about you every week. I'm sick of making up excuses for your trifling behavior. I don't like nor appreciate having to form my mouth to speak lies to a man of the cloth."

"Then why don't you just tell him the truth?" I asked. "Tell him that I'm not in church because I have better things to do than put on pretenses like ninety percent of the other people there."

Momma looked like she wanted to slap me silly. Instead, she just turned her back to me.

I rolled my eyes at her back -- I may be a man but I'm still not stupid enough to roll my eyes at her to her face -- and headed into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror and I almost jumped myself. I looked like shit; literally. My curly, jet black hair was kinky as all get out and I was sporting a big ass pimple on my right cheek. That's the only thing I hate about being light-skinned -- other than the fact that dark-skinned brothers have suddenly gone back in style. The slightest breakout and the entire world knows about it. I used to try to burst the pimples when I was in junior high but that was the absolute worst. The blotches on my face would run most of the sisters in the opposite direction when they spotted me and you could see the big ass marks they left behind a mile off.

I was attempting to take a dump in peace on my throne when Momma started banging on the door. She definitely had a door-banging fetish.

"Chico, you only have twenty minutes before you need to leave for work. Don't fool around and be late again. You need to keep that job; for both our sakes."

"Okay, Momma." I prairie-dogged a turd, hoping she would walk away so she couldn't hear me drop the bomb.

"I made you some breakfast. Brown sugar bacon, grits, and scrambled eggs. You have to make your own toast because I've gotta run. The elementary school kids are putting on a Christmas program at the nursing home and I promised your grandma I'd be there before it starts."

"Okay, Momma." I could hear her still standing outside the door. I knew what she was waiting on. "Thanks, Momma."

"You're welcome."

She finally made some moves and I was able to finish getting rid of the beer and buffalo wing mixture that was ripping up my stomach. I heard the front door slam a few minutes later while I was climbing into the shower. I didn't feel like going to work that day. Then again, I never did. The only thing righteous about working at Wolfe Industries was that Razor and Miceal worked there also. We had all gone down there six months prior and filled out the applications together. We had been there and done that fast-food gig and it was not the way to live. Shit, I got burned by the fry machine three times at Mickey D's and that crap hurt like all hell.

College was never an option for me. My grades weren't good enough for a scholarship, I was too lazy to play sports by the time I'd hit seventh grade, and Momma definitely couldn't afford tuition. I could've taken out a loan but I have some friends that will still be trying to pay their shit off when they're in their fifties. My grades were fucked up for all the wrong reasons. I was one of those kids who didn't feel challenged and so I didn't do the work; even though I'm smart as hell. As typical in the hood, my teachers didn't care enough to encourage me and I was rebellious against my mother. I wished that I could take it all back because I would have probably been in college on a full scholarship somewhere the hell away from D.C.

My daddy ran off with one of our neighbors when I was eight. She was married also but the sex between them must have been off the chain. Daddy walked away from a wife and one kid, but Dena -- the whore in question -- walked away from a husband and four kids. Her husband moved away in embarrassment. The entire neighborhood knew the deal but Momma said she wasn't leaving her space. She said people were going to talk whether we left or stayed. She was struggling with this gig as a customer service rep for Amtrak. The pay was mediocre and that was not a good thing. The cost of living in D.C. is so high that most people have to end up living with their parents until they're in their thirties or forties. Shit, sometimes even their fifties.

Miceal, Razor, and I were all hired on the spot at Wolfe and started clocking hours as soon as we passed the required drug testing. Apparently, they had a high turnaround of clerks in the mail room so they were anxious to fill the...

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Verlag
Atria Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2003
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
074345703X
ISBN 13 
9780743457033
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Auflage
1
Anzahl der Seiten
304
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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