Bea Cannon
A SMALL GRAY DOT
Part One: The Event
Prologue
AND THE WORLD WENT TO SHIT…
Chapter One
“YOU NEED TO TAKE A BREAK, TENN. YOU’RE going to get eyestrain.”
I looked up from my laptop and smiled at Zoni standing there in her short black and white clingy nightshirt that barely covered anything. She was tiny but she had curves and knew how to use them to make my interest rise. She was holding a coffee mug in one hand and her other hand rested on one of those delectable curves.
“I’m okay, baby, I just want to get a couple of chapters done.”
“Here, take this and relax. You’ve been at that for hours.”
I sighed. “I know, I know, but I want to get as much finished as I can before the wedding.” I grinned as I swung my chair around from the small fold-up table I called my desk. “We’re going to be way too busy afterward.” I pulled my cute and sexy lady onto my lap as she set the mug beside my pencil holder.
I held her, thinking back over the last three years since I’d graduated with a bachelor’s in education, a desire to teach, and a dream of someday being a published writer. I mused on my incredible luck at having found her in the middle of all of that.
I met her at a cookout the summer after my first year as a middle school English teacher.
“Meet Zoni Avery,” said our mutual friend, Lauren as she handed us glasses of something alcoholic. “She teaches music at the new school of the arts.”
I smiled down at the petite, cute, high school music teacher as I took the glass from Lauren. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. That’s usually lust or at least it was for me, but the instant attraction I felt on meeting Zoni was different. It was more of a connection and it made me a believer because I fell into her big beautiful brown eyes and something on a deep level inside said, “This is it. This is the one”.
“Zoni, meet Tennessee Murray, he teaches English.”
Zoni looked up at me with those big brown eyes – and laughed.
Someone called Lauren’s name and she said, “Uh-oh, gotta go guys. Somebody wants my services. You two talk to each other. Grab yourselves something to eat from the stack on the counter. I’ll be back.” She took off for the gazebo at the bottom of the yard.
I raised an eyebrow at this woman I’d just met who seemed to find my name so amusing.
“Um, is my name that funny?”
Shaking her head, she grinned and said, “Oh, no, it just that… well, everyone calls me Zoni but my name is actually Arizona.”
Okay. I saw it then, and had to crack a grin of my own.
Then, as her eyes danced mischievously, she said, “Furthermore, my little sister Minnie’s name is Minnesota.”
It was getting good. I chuckled. “I have an older sister whom we call Missy. Can you guess her name?”
She stared at me, unsure if I was putting her on. Then she said, “It wouldn’t be Mississippi would it?”
“Bingo. Hey, you got it right off.” I laughed as she almost spit out her drink.
“For real?” she asked trying not to strangle. “I just said that because I thought you were messing with me!”
I grinned. “Nope, no kidding. Her name is Mississippi.”
“What are the odds? Here we are just meeting, and both have parents that saw fit to name their kids for states!” she said shaking her head.
We laughed about it and spent the rest of the evening together, shooing away Lauren when she came back.
She was from Baltimore and was surprised that I was born in Charlotte. “You don’t sound like a Southerner,” she said.
“My parents are from Jamaica, thus my less than Southern accent. But I can speak Southern.”
“Show me,” she said, and laughed when I demonstrated I could drawl with the best when I wanted to.
She had a wonderful laugh and used it a lot.
I told her I was an aspiring writer but that teaching was my first love. She loved to sing but was as dedicated to the profession as I was. She’d also just completed her first year of teaching and was looking forward to the next, and she’d started online classes to get her master’s in education, which was the same thing I’d done. I asked her for a date and things progressed from there. We were as good for each other as I somehow knew we would be. She encouraged my writing while I encouraged her singing.
I snapped back to the present when Zoni leaned into me and planted her hands on either side of my face. She stared into my eyes. “Tenn, the way you’re going, you’ll be dead tired by our wedding day, and too worn-out to enjoy our honeymoon cruise. I know you want to finish the book, Hon, and I want you to finish, but you also need to rest. We’re going to be gone for four glorious weeks of cruising and touring all over the Caribbean, and visiting—”
I brought her lips to mine, cutting her off. When she finally pulled back, she smiled, forming those perfect little dimples in her smooth, chocolate cheeks. I licked both, something that always made her giggle, and then gazed into her eyes. She made a good argument. I could hop back on it the next day while she was gone to pick up her wedding dress.
She said it was bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding so she was taking it to Shantel’s place, her best friend and maid-of-honor, and it would stay there for the next four days.
Shantel was going with her to pick up the dress, and I knew she and Zoni would get into a gabfest, especially since the other bridesmaids were going to meet up with them. I’d have plenty of time to finish those two chapters. Besides, with her on my lap, I knew I was finished writing for the night. I picked up the coffee mug and took a sip.
I shot up an eyebrow. “Hey, this is wine.”
She laughed at my expression. “Of course it is, silly. Did you think I was going to give you coffee this time of night?” Smiling, she added in that sultry voice she knew would weaken my already feeble will when it came to her, “I’d never get you to bed if I did that.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand: one-oh-eight. I hadn’t realized it was that late. I tended to lose track of time when writing.
The fall before I met Zoni, I’d joined a writing group, and Adam Jones, also a teacher and one of the group members who’d written and published a number of childrens books, read one of my short stories.
“This is good, Tenn,” he said smiling as he finished. “With some expansion, I think it would make for a great adventure novel.” He looked up at me. “I’m serious, give it a shot.”
He’d been in the business for a while – about twenty years – and I guessed he should know. In addition, I’d learned he helped a couple of other writers.
I was encouraged but uncertain if I’d have the time. “Well, I’m pretty busy. I’d have to squeeze writing into my spare time.”
Adam grinned. “Welcome to the world of writers, my boy. If we have a day job, we all have to squeeze it in.”
So I squeezed, and finished a first draft and Adam helped me get beta readers. They assured me it was certain to be a hit with the middle school crowd. Acting as my agent, he got me in with his small but professional publishing company.
They said my book was the sort of thing for which they were looking, so with Adam’s help and that of a good editor, the year after I met Zoni, I realized my dream of becoming a published author. I was thrilled, she was thrilled for me, and it made my day when several of my students mentioned how much they enjoyed the story.