Chapter 1 - Say Sorry

ALL AT ONCE, a haze of light, a throbbing pain, and confusion swirled in her head. The feeling of hot bile churned in her stomach attempting to erupt like a volcano. "Oh my head. Crap! Why is it so bright in here?" words were difficult at this time in the morning. "Left those damn things open." Rays of sunshine beamed through an unmasked window antagonizing the after-effects of one too many Vodka Red Bulls. Through the haze, came a sound. Something familiar that her liquor induced mind could not quite process. Shine bright.....Shine bright....beautiful like diamonds in the sky. If anything could wake her from the dead, it would be the sound of her iPhone's ring tone blasting a Rihanna track. Slowly the haze gave way and reality started to set in. Yeah, reality, with an entire host of upchuck attempting to trespass its threshold. 
She slowly placed one palm against the bed, slightly lifting her head. She turned her face towards the direction of the vibrating melody attempting not to shift her body out of fear of eruption. One slight movement could turn the entire contents of last night into projectile, molten, wet and slimy vomit. "Oh man, I think I might have over did it just a little," she whispered to herself. Her Red Leather Gucci Soho bag was laying by her waist, which thankfully made it easy to reach in and pull out her life line. Without even looking to see who was calling, she clumsily swiped the screen and answered, "Hello."
"You need to come get Josh," the voice over the phone said, rather emphatically. "You need to come get Josh, he's gonna be late for school again."
"Ma," she replied. "Can't you just drop him for me? I had a late night at work."
"You know what, I am tired of always taking care of your crap. You're always having late nights and plus my car is in the shop. I gotta take the bus today. So you need to get your no good hide out the bed and take this boy to school. He’s about to be late so hurry it up."
"Ok Ma," she muttered.
"Sylvia," her mother said and paused. “Sylvia,” she said again and paused, her silence demanded acknowledgment. She only called her Sylvia when she was really upset. In every other mood, Sylvie was the name of choice. Sylvia still could not help but feel as if she was alway upset at her; always disappointed.
"Yes," Sylvia answered with a sigh, knowing that tone in her mom’s voice all too well. Knowing some smart jab to the face was on its way.
"Please don't come over here dressed like a whore; god knows Josh don’t need to see you like that, or whatever state you’re in," and with that the phone went blank.
Mom always knew how to push her to the edge of loosing it. And even though Sylvia expected it, she’d always hoped it wouldn’t come. The comments which were more than just words. She’d almost hoped that some supernatural maternal instinct would kick in and suddenly transform her loveless mother into just an inch better than what she was. But no, 31 years has been long enough for miracles. "Who the hell is she to judge anyways," toxic thoughts roamed through her head. I so hate her sometimes. Always acting like she knows me. The least she could do is make up for all the crap she put me through as a kid. Whatever, I don't need her handouts. Sylvia’s anger brought back memories of a life long ago.
Sylvia was mom’s mistake. She had Sylvia in her teenage years. Her high school sweet heart and Sylvia's dad got mom pregnant on prom night. When he found out she was pregnant, the phone calls stopped, mom’s sweetheart turned sour and he ran off to college never looking back. Mom would always warn Sylvia about men who make huge promises. Sylvia always figured that her dad was the very reason for this. Maybe he was a big dreamer or maybe he knew mom was materialistic and used it to get into bed with her. "Don't you ever let a man get between your legs with promises of a big house in the Hamptons. You better work hard and make your own way," Mom would say. Back then, a gold necklace would have had Mom melting. A man could have bought her soul with diamond earrings. Imagine how bitter she became when the gold turned out to be gold plated and the diamond was a cubic zirconia. The last they heard of the dead beat, he was a car sales man in some undisclosed part of the country. He had a great job as an accountant, but then he got caught embezzling money. "Don't bite the hand of the one who feeds you," Mom would say. Another quote from her library of wise words to live by. Some of the stuff she would come up with seemed to have been birthed from the pain and bitterness of years gone by. "Never trust a man who blinks with one eye." Really, who comes up with this stuff. The wise words of mom, Sylvia was sure, came from some backwater superstition of her childhood in Colombia, add a dash of the Holy Catholic church and voila. How did Bernie, Mom’s husband, put up with her all these years. He must have been some saint of a patient man or just simply as crazy as Mom. Well whatever he was, he was patient or crazy enough to marry her in the middle of all her ridiculousness.
Either way, Sylvia was a mistake and a failure and Mom saw her in no greater light. She was hard on Sylvia. Maybe Sylvia was an embodiment of Mom’s younger self; an embodiment of her shattered dreams. Maybe Sylvia’s life was a mirrored image of Mom’s dreams and the vanity of it all; doey-eyed, naive, and desirous of sparkling things. Maybe if Sylvia had fallen for the big house on the hill top, Mom would have thought different of her. All it took were few snorts of coke, vodka, and a date rape drug and she was pregnant; mirroring Mom’s own teenage pregnancy with Sylvia. The combination had her so doped up, the doctors had to juice her a few times with those electric paddles to bring her back. At least those guys felt bad enough to call the Paramedics once they saw her nose bleeding. And it was under these circumstances Josh came to be. Joshua Bradley, the miracle boy was conceived under a little less than ordinary circumstances. You could not make this stuff up if you tried. The fact that he survived pregnancy with Sylvia is a miracle all in itself.
She pushed against the soft sheets and left the phone where it laid. She slowly lifted her groggy and sopping body leaving a palm and body print in the memory foam. Her legs were not fully functional but she was able to somewhat stand. "Here we go," she said to herself, finally coming to terms with what she had to do. One step after the next finally got her to the restroom of her small one bedroom apartment. She slumped face first over the toilet and allowed the juices to flow. The porcelain had become her salvation from the tormentuous demon in her stomach. Once she felt as though she had sufficiently relieved herself, Sylvia made it over to the kitchen and took the opportunity to make some coffee. "This is definitely a black coffee morning. I need to get going." Her strength slowly returned as the sick feeling drained away. Her legs still quivered, from more than just side effects, but dancing five hours with small breaks here and there. After the third hour, her legs really hated her. At the end of the night, she could barely push the gas pedal without her legs shaking uncontrollably. “I’m really getting too old for this,” she said to herself hoping her legs would work after only a few hours of sleep.
Sylvia made her way back to the bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in a full body mirror, which was leaning adjacent to her closet. “Ow, I’m already starting to bruise,” she said out loud scrunching her nose at the reddening palm print on her derriere. She ran her fingers through her tangled dark brown hair. The curls, which took her the better part of an hour to style, were all but gone leaving a tangled mess in the wake. Sylvia’s hair was thick and reached down to her breasts. As she got ready for a shower, she could feel the huge hand sized welt on her left butt cheek beginning to get sore. “That jerk,” she said under her breath. “Had to make him pay for it.” He knew the rules. Many of them did: no slapping or groping or sticking or licking or biting or anything freaky unless your dancer agrees to it; and he chose not to obey them. Sylvia was doing that grinding thing she does, which usually drives them wild, but Gerald got a bit too excited and landed a hot one on her backside. “Now, Gerald,” Sylvia was sure that was not his real name, but he said she should call him that. And who would give themselves a fake name like Gerald. Considering the circumstances a hot 5 feet 4 inches latina grinding her 41 inch butt on his minuscule rod, he should have been prompted to choose a much sexier name. Sebastian would have been a far better choice, Sylvia thought. But all the man could come up with was Gerry. I guess I can understand why he felt the need to slap me like that, she thought. He lacks originality and his prude of a wife probably doesn’t allow for such behaviors. “You know you shouldn’t have done that. If you want me to continue, you’re going to have to show me that you’re very sorry. Gerald say you’re sorry,” Sylvia had said holding out her hand expectantly. Gerry laughed and showered her with twenty dollar bills. Then Sylvia turned and poked her butt at him, “Gerry, say you’re sorry.” She reproved him with sass, turning an otherwise bad situation to her advantage. Sylvia was always good at that. Actually, Sylvia was quite exceptional, and as a result, turned bad situations into money opportunities. She looked over at the large Gucci bag laying on the bed to see the cash had already spilled out. There had to be at least two grand in there, she thought. The glee filled her chest, which made the rotten feeling in her stomach worth it. “Thank you Gerald,” she said unable to stifle a broad grin.
The others girls said that he was a Mayor or something, which wasn’t strange. The only people who came to these parties were men and women of high esteem. Those who were far too popular, who had to maintain an appearance of virtue in the public eye, secretly enjoyed all the pleasures Miami had to offer. Of course, it all took place in an environment where they knew their identity would remain unknown. There were even quiet rooms, where these people could go if they had to take a call from someone they didn’t want knowing about the strippers. The traditional strip club would simply not do. Hence, Max Dinaro, the owner of the Royal Playhouse, threw these private parties for his high end clients. Clients, for whom money was no object.
Some twenty minutes later Sylvia pulls up at Mom’s house in a shiny new Mercedes. She beeps the horn, jumped out and leans up against the side of her brand new luxury car. Late but always fashionable. Mom bolts out the front door, attempting to not be surprised, “took you long enough.” She steps past Sylvia and heads for the bus stop.
“Ma,” Sylvia calls after her. “Ma wait!”
Josh, not far behind, could see Sylvia attempting to catch up to the energetic 5 feet 4 inches, 44 year old woman, Latina spice.
“Ma wait,” she repeated. Finally caught her by the hand, pulled her, and slowed her pace. “I’ll just take you to work.”
“Don’t bother,” Mom was playing hard to get as always when it came to Sylvia.
“Ma, c’mon, please just let me drop you to work. You don’t need to take the bus. Don’t you have to be at work by eight. You might as well come with me. You’re gonna be late.” Sylvia tugged, still holding fast to Mom’s hand.
Mom stopped. Sylvia could see the disappointment in her eyes, the fact that the car looked brand new and was expensive disgusted her. “I don’t want to ride in that thing.” She pulled her arm quickly, freeing herself, and made her way across the street. This time Sylvia did not pursue her.
Standing at the side of the street Sylvia pleaded, not caring what any passerby might have thought, “why can’t you just be happy for me, just this once?” A lump developed in her throat, making it difficult to get the words out, “Would it hurt you to just, to just…” Her words trailed off, not finding the courage to finish what she started.
“To just what?” Mom replied over the sound of the passing cars and the large city bus lumbering down the street. “To just what Sylvia? What did you have to do to get that car?” Mom started to speak again, but her words were drowned out by the bus grinding to a halt. Sylvia stood on the other side of that two lane street and watched Mom climb into the large city bus.
Josh, on the other hand, seemed very happy to see the car. That thing was a beauty. All black with red leather seats. She had changed the front grille to black which gave the car a mean Night Rider look. It was sitting idle in the driveway purring like a Persian kitten. The car took up a cool, calm, and collected posture, as it sat lazily in Mom’s driveway. Sylvia saw Josh eying the car. She thought, don’t let’s pretty exterior fool you. Because under that hood was a monster cat waiting to be unleashed and Sylvia was in one of those moods. The car was much like her, pretty and ferocious.
Josh was still standing at the porch admiring the beast from a far when she called to him, “hey Josh let’s go.” The tone in her voice drew his attention away from the car and to her eyes. Her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and sad as if she had been mourning for days. “Jump in, let’s get to school.” She pulled out of the drive way slowly and started down the street. “Why can’t she just be happy for me. I’ve always wanted this car and now I finally have it and she had to just go and kill the entire experience. I can’t stand her.” Her level of anger was directly proportioned to the weight of lead in her foot. “I can’t wait to just get out of here. I hate this place, this city,” speed steadily increasing.
“Sylvia,” Josh called out loud enough to break her train of thought and to remind her he was still sitting in the back seat. She realized the speed she was going, pressed the brake and quickly slowed the pace of the car. That car moved so effortlessly, it almost seemed out of place to drive it slow. Sylvia quickly looked through all her mirrors and breathed a sigh of relief that no cops had caught sight of her blazing down the busy street.
“You know I am still your mother right,” she commented.
“Yeah, so?” Josh replied.
“Usually, good little boys call their mothers, mom or mommy or something like that.”
“You’d be surprised, good little boys are hard to find,” he had a smirk plastered across his face. Sylvia, through the rear view mirror, realized he was wearing a blue and grey jacket. It was embroidered with a basketball insignia. There was the word Trojan on the top arch, a replica of the Trojan warrior’s helmet in the middle, and the word basketball on the bottom arch. She didn’t know he played basketball and she felt guilty for not knowing such pertinent information. Sylvia obviously had not gone to any of his games, which might have actually been a big deal to him.
“Well you are my good little boy and I think you should call me mom,” she insisted. Though after seeing the basketball jacket, she did not feel deserving of the title.
“Well Sylvie,” he drawled, “if you get me to school on time then I might consider it,” he looked down at his watch and it was already 7:35. “Oh well, too bad, it’s already 5 minutes too late for that.”
“Ok Mr Smarty Pants, we will continue this another time,” they finally pulled into the school drop of area. “Have a great day today.”
“Yeah,” he slowly opened the door but felt a bit disappointed that no one was there to greet him at the drop off. There was no one to show off his mom’s hot new ride to.
“Baby,” Sylvia said, she paused for a moment and softy said, “I’ll pick you up by four ok?”
“Don’t bother, I’m going to Chad’s after school and I can walk back to grandma from there,” he replied. “Sylvie, I’m late, I really have to go.” With that he stepped out of the car and ran into the building. The door closed behind him.

Chapter 2 - Teacher's Note

HE WALKED THROUGH the door and waited until it was shut before looking back. He peered through a shatter proof window, the wires that ran through them obscured his vision. He could still see the black Mercedes-Benz parked to the side. Sylvia was still sitting inside and for a full 30 seconds she did not move. Her head was against the steering wheel. He could not help but be a bit worried for her. And though he did not want to be near her, he pitied her tortured existence. Finally he saw her reach for her bag and pulled out what looked like her cell phone. She placed it to her ear and with her other arm turned the steering wheel and drove off. Josh let out a big sigh, turned and headed off towards his first period class. On the way, he stopped by his locker, quickly put in his combination, flung the door open and shoved his school bag inside. He pulled out his English book, closed the locker door and sped off to class. The entrance to the class was towards the back of the room. If he was quiet enough, he could easily sneak in without the Ms. Anders noticing. His assigned seat was towards the back but all the way at the other end of the classroom. He peeked into the window and saw that the teacher’s back was turned. So he slowly open the door and tried his best the tippy toe across the hard concrete floor. Just as he was halfway across the classroom, Brian noticed him, raised his hand and said, “Ms. Anders, I have a question.” Josh's eyes brightened almost popping out of his head. He should not have be surprised that Brian would do something so brazen to give him away. Josh’s surprise quickly turned to anger. He turned his face towards Brian and shot a fierce look. Ms. Anders, without turning her head said, "yes Brian what is it."
"Ahhh... actually never mind Ms. Anders, I believe I found the answer to my problem," he said sarcastically. By that time Josh had found his seat.
"So good of you to join us Mr. Bradley," she said again without turning her head. "I'm so glad you made it into class today, albeit a little late. But you know what they say, better late than never."
"I am very sorry Ms. Anders, my mom," he barely stumbled out the words before Ms. Anders cut him off.
"No worries Mr. Bradley, we will certainly speak about this incident and your mom after class," she said, without a trace of sarcasm. The comment made the class go “Oohhh.”
Josh again looked over to Brian who was staring straight ahead with a stupid grin on his face. "What a jerk," Josh said under his breath.
The bell rang and he stayed seated as the other kids stood up and walked out of the classroom. Once they were all gone, he stepped towards Ms. Anders’ desk. She was obviously very young. The rumor was she was about 23 years old and had recently broken up with her boyfriend. With thick flowing brown hair and cheek bones that made her look like a Victoria Secret model had lost her way and somehow ended up at this school; and those legs. It is probably not lawful for a teacher to be this hot. The boys in the class could not stop staring every time she wore a skirt. "Miss Anders, that was a great lesson today by the way. I thought the one last week Wednesday was truly enlightening but today's lesson beats them all," Josh said without a blink and in his most cheery voice. Miss Anders now moving back in her chair folded her arms and looked at him with an unimpressed smirk. Not a word nor sound came from her, but only a singular penetrating look. "And about this morning, I assure you that this small mishap will never happen again. I mean, I was only about 5 minutes late."
“As a matter of fact, you were 10 minutes late for the third time this month. Another tardy and it will have an unexcused absence.,” Ms. Anders said in as stern a voice as a Victoria Secret model could manage. “I would like to meet your parents Mr Bradley,” she said again. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a letter. “Please give this letter to your parents and we will have to setup a meeting for all of us to sit down and talk. Plus, I didn’t get a chance to meet them at the parent teachers conference.”
"That sounds really good Ms. Anders, but really, a note?” Josh said in a tone which suggested that she had gone way too far.
“What? I have to make it look realistic,” Ms. Anders said, she got up from her chair and moved closer to Josh. The classroom was finally empty and they were alone. “I wouldn’t want anyone thinking that I’m giving you preferential treatment, now would I?” Ms Anders said in a sarcastically implied tone. She grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him towards a supply closet. Her heels made her only a few inches short of Josh’s six feet two inches basketball frame. “I missed you,” she said softly and kissed him. Josh’s hands studied her slender body, traveling down the low of her back. His arms where trained and strong. He knew what she would like. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted. The two figures, still attached by the lips, and her head bowed to meet his. But there came a sound, setting off alarms in their minds. He lowered her back to the ground. “Call me,” she said softly. Josh was left speechless like many other times before. She liked the rush. The feeling of almost being caught, but he didn’t.
“I would be more than happy to pass this note along to my mother. But see the thing is my mother can be a very busy woman," Josh said, speaking loudly and attempting to sound as mature and educated as he could. He peeked through cracks in the closet door, but the other students where still standing outside.
"Then what about your father," she replied. “Your girlfriend will be one lucky girl,” she added in a whisper. Whenever she said that, it always left him confused. One thing was for certain, she did not consider herself his girlfriend.
"Well, I would have to send out a search party to locate that dead beat," he said so matter-of-fact that Ms Anders could not help but smile in amusement. “What are you talking about!” Josh replied in like whisper.
"Well, try your best Mr. Bradley. Please see what you can do in getting your mom to meet with me," Ms Anders said before sitting back in her chair.
"I'll try Ms. Anders," he reluctantly agreed. With that he smiled, picked up his English book and walked towards the exit of the classroom. As he reached the door, he slowed his pace and looked back to find her brown eyes meeting his. He quickly looked ahead as though he was caught doing something he should not have done and stepped out the class.
"I'll try Ms. Anders," Brian standing outside the door said in a condescending voice. "I am very sorry Ms. Anders," he continued mocking him. "I love you Ms. Anders, I want to have your babies Ms. Anders."
"Dude, you're such a jerk. Really…why do you have to be such a jerk?" Josh said briefly looking at Brian before walking away.
"Oh please, you know you want to have her babies. She is by far the hottest teacher in this entire school, and she asked you to stay after class." The thought had entered Josh’s mind many times throughout the class period, but it would be quickly dismissed, because what is the possibility anyway? That look, the time their eyes met. No, that was probably nothing.
"Yeah, all because you wanted to be a jerk and raise your hand just to get me in trouble. Now I have a note from the teacher to my mom." Brian took a few quick steps attempting to catch up to Josh’s pace.
“Your mom is pretty hot too, what I wouldn’t give to have your mom and Ms Anders,” Brian replied, licking his lips.
“Seriously, you’re sick. You need some serious help,” Josh said shaking his head attempting to rid himself of the thoughts.
"Hey, I was just helping a brother out," Brian said raising an eyebrow and throwing one arm around Josh’s shoulder.
"Yeah, that's what you said about Denise," Josh replied in a tone of disbelief.
"Well I can't help that she liked me better. I mean I am the cute one. Or at least that's what I've heard," he said with a self assured look on his face. Brian was cocky but it was not just talk. He did catch the eye of many of the girls in their class. He had the reputation of a big time flirt and he was equally disliked because of that. Irrespective, his short blonde hair and blue eyes would always make some other girl lose her speech mid-sentence.
"Please, someone send for the bomb squad, Bryan's head is about to explode," Josh said while rolling his eyes. "You’re full it."
It did not help that as soon as they got to the lockers Britney and Ren were staring at him. "I'll be right back, my adoring fans await," he nudged Josh with his elbow before stepping over to the two girls.
Josh opened his locker and exchanged his English book for math. He opened his school bag and pulled out a calculator, some pencils, and his notebook before closing the locker again. As soon as the door to the locker closed, there were Brian's blue eyes staring right at him. "Rena wants you bad, and I mean really bad," Brian said with a bright look on his face. "Bro this is your time to shine." Josh turned the combination lock on his locker and walked away without a word. "Bro really?" Brian stood there with his palms open and arms out. "Oh come on, you can't seriously be going to class at a time like this."
"See you later Brian, I’m going to be late," Josh said as he walked towards his next class.

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