The 'N' Word, Book 1 (2 page)
WE SALUTE YOU.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Kim Wright Barnum.
She is the ‘den mother’ for the Laveen Lair, my online readers group. She works from sunrise to sunset in there, engaging readers, sharing my updates, posting interesting information and keeping the flame lit as we collectively encourage women to embrace their inner Goddess, believe in themselves, and never settle for less than they deserve. She has been an avid reader of mine for years, a relentless cheerleader, and has given me solid advice regarding my work. Kim is a rarity, the type of person an author dreams of having in his or her camp. You seldom have to ask her for assistance; she simply does it—because she believes in YOU and your brand.
When I’ve wanted to throw up deuce signs due to feeling disenchanted, she’s talked me down from the cliff.
When I wanted to bounce off an idea, no matter how odd, she offered a listening ear.
When I wanted to vent, she’d simply allow it, no matter how nonsensical my rant may have sounded.
Thank you Kim for your work, efforts, and continued support. Thank you for assisting me in my career, which is my passion, and for helping other authors like me, who don’t want to be put in a box, tight-cast or labeled. We simply want to write, invite positivity into our realm and encourage people from all walks of life and backgrounds to sit back and read.
You are a friend, an eccentric lover of words, hilarious, intelligent, wise, and all around wonderful person.
Thank you.
You are loved.
Tiana
Table of Contents
To the Reader
Greetings! Thank you so much for purchasing, “The ‘N’ Word.” My name is Tiana Laveen, and if you’ve made it past the synopsis and crooked warning signs; rusty pipe bombs; deranged, hissing cats; cracked, lopsided sidewalks confirming your many years of bad luck; smelly ointments stuffed in sashes tied to the necks of blood tinged voodoo dolls; falling broken shards of crystal from the glass ceiling; Hazmat suit fitted crowds; pint-sized killer clowns with black and yellow wasp colored poisonous cotton candy; and the odd fellow who is following closely behind you with nothing but hollows for eyes and a bloody sliced grin—then that means not only that you’re not afraid to hitch a ride with me, but that not a single f**k was given on your part to cease this trip at once and you actually trust me to make this read worth your while!
That’s a lot of responsibility to put on my shoulders, but hey, I am willing to give it my all nevertheless. Now, for those of you that read my series, Cross Climax (that is, the anthologies Cross Climax I and Cross Climax II) then you are already familiar with the idea of this story. As stated earlier, this is not what I consider the same story and what I mean by that is I have almost started from scratch, but used the original premise/theme/outline. I appreciate everyone who has read Cross Climax I and II and expressed sentiments of enjoying them. I must be honest, however. I re-read this story for the first time in over four years, and I am in shock at my lack of character development and depth in the original version of this particular story. I know that it was an anthology story/novella/short read, so I will give myself a TINY shred of forgiveness and there was also a learning curve I had to quickly delve into, but for a story with such a serious subject matter, there is no way I could find the original version remotely close to acceptable under my current parameters relating to deep, quality storytelling.
I had many thoughts and story ideas at the time, and still do; yet, sometimes, my execution of those concepts during the ‘early years’ did not match how I saw the themes in my head, and unfortunately, I believe this was one of those cases. For these reasons, I honestly could barely get through my read of the original story. Not because I think it is God-awful, but the grammatical issues abound (a friend was doing my editing and, though I appreciate the efforts, I needed to hire a professional to do this task). Not only that; there were so many missed opportunities to really flesh these characters out and make them three-dimensional. In other words, the story had good bones, but was starving to death. Hence, here we are…
You are about to read, “The ‘N’ Word” for the first time, even if you read the novella in the series. Part of the reason is because I took a little vote. You see, there is an online readers group comprised of over 230 women who, for whatever reason, kinda dig me, and I came to them one day asking if I should re-write this story in a longer version. The overwhelming consensus was ‘YES.’ Some even let me know that it was
this
very story that led them to my work in the first place, and how this is a tale that always stuck with them. So, I shrugged and plucked the book off my office bookshelf, found the account in question, re-read the thing, and decided to have a go at it. Ironically, half through writing this novel the second time around, an eagle came to perch outside my office window. I’ve never seen an eagle in person before, unless you count my visits at the zoo. At the time, I was sickened, mentally exhausted from doing some of the research required for this book. On that very day of feeling down and out, the eagle landed on a tree branch outside my window.
He swooped down to try to catch fish in a nearby pond, then he’d sit on the branch once again. I had, in the process, convinced myself that my eyes were playing tricks on me so while he still sat there, I turned away and looked up photos of various eagles… Yes, it was definitely an eagle. Now here is where it is gets eerie: I was also doing additional research regarding Nazi and socialist tattoos, and I just so happened to be studying their highly regarded, ‘Eagle atop the swastika’, which is the Nazi party’s formal symbol. So, as I arrived at an exhaustive point, I was pushed to go further. I took it as a definite sign that this re-write not only needed to be done, but that I was on the right path in regard to how I was deciding to address the story.
Now, there are many people/potential readers who would scoff at the notion that a white supremacist, covered in heinous, racially charged insignia and salacious tattoos, would ever fall in love with a lovely, somewhat innocent African American school teacher in the south of the United States. On the surface, that would be a fair assessment. Most people reading this I believe may have side-eyed the blurb, for many of the readers of my work are black, and a large percentage of those readers are women. Therefore, it would be a difficult task to love a hero who hated your skin, heritage, and culture.
I would be asking you to embrace someone who found you reprehensible at the outset, deemed you less intelligent, and believed every negative stereotype about you and ‘your people’ held water. Worst of all, this man is dangerous. His hands are lethal weapons and his mind is even more powerful and twisted. He is wicked, soulless, occasionally not self-aware and spontaneous in regards to violent reactions from his outside environment. Additionally, he does not fall within the typical stereotypes that one may imagine when thinking of a person of his caliber, or lack thereof: hillbilly, redneck or inbred son of a bitch, to name a few. That fact alone makes Aaron all the more treacherous, confusing, and an upsetting entity to an outsider looking in.
How can someone with such grotesque, antiquated, warped ideologies be deemed sexy and, more important, redeemable? What type of woman would dare deal with a man so reprehensible and deplorable? Does she lack self-esteem? Is she a fool? Perhaps half of her brain is made of cheap bubble gum and the other half comprised of partially defrosted pepperoni pizza. Surely that would explain it…
When re-thinking this story, I initially realized that the topic would turn many people off. Only those that were open-minded would put their concerns aside and say, “Okay Tiana, you are
really
trying me right now…but I liked another book or two of yours, so I’m going to see what you’ve done here, give it a chance.”
Now, those same readers may get 50% in and say, “Ms. Laveen, you’ve lost your damn mind and I am done.” Or, they may say, “I can not believe I am still reading this, but I have to find out what happens!” Or, even better, they may text a friend:
I am reading the ‘N’ Word series by Tiana Laveen. You HAVE to read this!
Regardless, I hope you can go the distance because I want to show you two people who believe they are polar opposites but find love, companionship, and romance with each other. The disgusting and unlovable becomes ‘crush-worthy’ and the demure becomes a sly vixen and siren of desire.
So, without further ado, let’s pull back this blood and tear stained curtain, reveal the ugly truth of a dark love story covered in filth and redemption, and let the games begin. Get comfortable… here we go…
A Word from Our Hero
My entire upper body is covered in rich, black ink. I’m proud of my tattoos. They aren’t futile, meaningless, trivial bullshit. Everything on me represents a part of who I am as a man—defines, confines and frees me all at once. For example, on one arm, I have a swastika. I have several swastikas actually, but that one is my favorite. On my chest is the Aryan eagle. Its straight wings are extended as its resilient claws grip the Nazi shield. On my left shoulder I have a perfectly drawn, realistic profile portrait of Hitler, and beside it, the Iron Cross.
Other tattoos that line my body include the number 14, which represents the fourteen words that represent what I fight for all day, every day: ‘We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.’ One of my most prized pieces of body art, however, sits on my back—my Valknut. The design showcases three interlocking triangles, which stand for my willingness to sacrifice my life for the movement.