A Political Love Affair Read online

  A POLITICAL LOVE AFFAIR:

  THE SHORT STORY

  A POLITICAL LOVE AFFAIR:

  THE SHORT STORY

  Mario D. King

  www.mariodking.com

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY that was inspired by my personal thoughts. The characters portrayed in this novel or any of the events should not be construed as real. This is a piece of art based solely on my imagination.

  A Political Love Affair:

  The Short Story

  By Mario D. King

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2014 Mario D. King

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  About Mario D. King

  Other books by Mario D. King

  Connect with Mario D. King

  Excerpt: The Crisis Before Midlife

  Chapter 1

  The security, screaming children, and the frantic business people were on full display at Ronald Reagan National Airport. The atmosphere resembled rush-hour traffic in Atlanta, Georgia. Medgar looked out at the frantic environment that surrounded him. He sat alone in TGI Fridays, named after his favorite day of the week, and checked the time on his black Movado Sero watch. He still had another hour and a half before his flight back to a place where he never wanted to return. He picked up a five dollar bill that had fallen out of a fellow customer’s small cross-body purse.

  “Excuse me ma’am, you dropped this.”

  The woman, looking like she could be in her late 40’s to early 50’s, looked into his gentle green eyes and thanked him for his honesty. He sat back down and looked at the bare ring finger on his left hand. He ran his hands through his naturally curly hair before he flagged the bartender down to ask for another drink. The busy atmosphere in the airport reminded him of what some people thought his life was like…all chaos with no direction. He sat and played a game inside his head wondering, where are these people rushing to? Is it a place they looked forward to returning to? Is it somebody they are rushing to? He pulled out his laptop to finish up some last minute work then quickly turned his body towards the television to listen to the news anchor discussing the presidential election that took place two days prior.

  The restaurant was starting to get crowded. Medgar sighed and put his laptop to sleep. He overheard the two noisy kids asking their mother if she thought he played basketball. Medgar chuckled; people always assumed that he was a basketball player due to his six foot three frame. The conversation of the couple to his left piqued his curiosity. He overheard an older gentleman say, in an agitated tone say, “Four more years of this? I can’t believe it.” Medgar turned to get a visual of the negative commentator. The older gentleman reminded him of his grandfather. He was Caucasian with a few strands of hair clinging to his otherwise bald head. The older man’s female counterpart looked like she could possibly be his wife. Medgar noticed that they were both wearing their wedding rings. He took a sip of his red berry Ciroc, and the napkin that was semi-stuck to the bottom of his glass floated off into the middle of the aisle. He went to retrieve the stubborn napkin and bumped into a woman who was wearing a sexy red business suit. Her legs were long and tight. He noticed that she worked for Delta Airlines, named after the sorority his ex-fiancée was pledged too.

  “Pardon me. It seems my napkin has a mind of its own.”

  The woman didn’t respond. She rolled her eyes and wedged her way between two sports fanatics talking about the latest game. Medgar shrugged his shoulders and returned to his table.

  “There’s been a flight delay. I should be there no later than eleven,” the woman in the red dress spoke into her cell phone.

  I wonder what her deal is, Medgar thought to himself. He noticed the woman standing with what he perceived to be two heavy luggage bags. He waved at her and motioned his hand for her to have a seat at his table. She ignored the gesture and turned up her nose. She looked around the restaurant for some more empty spaces and looked back towards Medgar. Why the hell is this fool staring at me? She asked herself. She took off her glasses and wiped the lenses with a small white handkerchief. When she looked up, the fool was standing right in her face. She flinched a little, from having her personal space invaded.

  Medgar smiled. “Do you need a seat?”

  With her glasses still in her hand, the woman looked up at Medgar with piercing; almond- shaped brown eyes and replied, “Do you know me or something?”

  She said it in a manner that caught the attention of some standers-by.

  “No ma’am.” Medgar replied, “I just saw that you were struggling with those bags, and I happen to have enough room for two people at my table.”

  She raised an eyebrow and replied, “Ma’am?”

  Medgar laughed. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. I call everyone ma’am or sir. It’s kind of a habit.”

  She put her glasses back on and replied, “Well, here’s for some future advice; don’t ever call a woman ‘ma’am’ if you don’t want to offend her.”

  Medgar nodded. “Well, the offer still stands.” He turned to walk away then abruptly turned back around and said, “By the way, my name is Medgar…Medgar McKnight.”

  She looked at his extended hand for a second then slowly extended hers and replied, “Myah Bristol.”

  “Nice to meet you, Myah. I hope your feet can take standing for awhile. Those high heels look uncomfortable.” He smiled and walked away. Myah couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. She leaned against the pole for a second and exhaled deeply, then she grabbed her bags and dragged her feet.

  Medgar glanced away from his laptop when he heard the sound of two bags dropping. When he looked up, he saw Myah standing in front of his table. Her long flowing black hair meshed well with her coco skin. She had a skin tone similar to that of certain members of his father’s side of the family.

  “May I?” Myah asked.

  Medgar nodded.

  “Thank you.” She replied.

  Myah sat down and turned sideways, away from Medgar. She quickly glanced over his two-toned skin, which looked like vanilla and chocolate ice cream mixed together. She noticed his business card sitting to the left of his laptop.

  “Traveling on business?”

  Medgar closed his laptop. He took another sip of his drink.

  “Yes and no.” He replied.

  Myah placed her hands on the table and reached for the menu. Medgar noticed that her ring finger was occupied.

  “How long have you been a flight attendant?”

  Myah tsked and replied, “Probably since you were a kid.”

  Medgar unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. She noticed how his blue tie made his green eyes standout. Medgar reminded her of the light-skinned doctor on Grey’s Anatomy. They shared the same boyish qualities.

  “Why would you mark your body up like that?”

  Medgar flexed his arms and replied, “It’s just an expression of me. Every tattoo means something near and dear to me.”

  The waitress appeared and took Myah’s order of a Pomegranate Tonic.

  Myah sighed deeply again.

  “In a hurry?”

  “Aren’t we all?” She replied.

  Myah glanced at the television as President Obama was giving a speech. She rolled he
r eyes and proceeded to shake her head. Lies, lies and four more years of lies, she mumbled to herself.

  Medgar rubbed over his scruffy five o’clock shadow, then smiled and shook his head.

  “What’s so funny?” Myah asked.

  “Nothing oh, nothing.” Medgar replied.

  She tilted her head and replied, “What? You don’t think he’s a liar? Aren’t all Democrats liars?”

  Medgar sighed. “Somebody’s been visiting the Republican tea party…Glad I wasn’t invited.”

  A scowl formed on Myah’s face. She took off her glasses and flicked her hair.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused.”

  Myah gave a sarcastic laugh. “Somebody’s been drinking the Obama ‘cool’ aid.”

  “Remember down-to-earth people drink kool-aid and you uppity-up’s sip tea!” Medgar replied.

  Myah shot Medgar an, oh-no-you-didn’t look as the waitress put Myah’s drink on the table. Myah stuck her pinky in her drink and touched it to her tongue before taking a sip.

  “You probably think Fox News’ word is bond, don’t you?” Medgar asked.

  “And I bet you’ve got CNN on speed dial,” she replied. “Look I don’t have time for this!” Myah said.

  He placed his hand on her left hand and said, “Relax, I’m just messing around.”

  Normally, she would have instantly tugged her hand away, but something was keeping her hand still. Maybe it was the chutzpah and cojones the young man exhibited.

  Removing his hand, Medgar asked, “How long have you been married?”

  “Probably since you was a baby.”

  Medgar smiled, showing off his perfectly aligned teeth. “That can’t be true. Anyway, he’s a very lucky man.”

  Myah’s facial expression changed again. She cleared her throat.

  “So… What about you? Married? Kids?”

  Medgar looked at his hand.

  “I was engaged.”

  “Was?” She asked.

  “Yep…Was.”

  “Let me guess, you had an affair? I know you Democrats are good for that. I got two words for you; Bill Clinton.”

  She laughed at her own joke.

  “That’s the first smile I’ve seen on your face and you put it there yourself. I’d rather have the pleasure of doing that.”

  She smiled again and shook her head.

  “So, are you looking forward to getting back to your husband?”

  Her facial expression darkened again. She hesitated, sighed and replied, “He’s a Democrat.”

  ###

  Thank you for reading my short story, A political love affair. If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review via Amazon.

  Thanks,

  Mario D. King

  About the author

  Author Mario D. King is an author/poet from Memphis, Tennessee. King has recently released his debut novel from his Urban Life Series titled, The Crisis before Midlife, through his publishing company MDK Books. MDK Books LLC is dedicated to providing inspiring, socially –conscious, uplifting, and motivating works through creative arts. Their novels will focus on real-life situations as it relates to the urban community.

  King believes his novels and poetry through MDK books will become staple options to be entertained and educated as it pertains to the African American community. With his deep love and passion for the progression of the urban community, King believes through word he will make a difference.

  Discover other titles by Mario D. King

  The Crisis Before Midlife

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  Website: http://www.mariodking.com

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  Please leave a rating and review of my works via Smashwords, Amazon and Goodreads.

  Excerpt: The Crisis Before Midlife

  It was 4:00 p.m. and Malcolm was still grading papers. Sitting alone in the classroom, Malcolm got up and began pacing the floor. He stared at the bulletin board that measured the progress his students were making. He began to smile. Then he shook his head as he looked out the window and saw Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Stockwell get into their vehicles. Both Johnson and Stockwell were the eldest teachers at the school. Some teachers complained that the two didn’t have the passion to teach anymore and their methods were now outdated. Walking back to his desk, he noticed Navil waving in the doorway. He motioned for her to come in.

  “Why are you still here on a Friday?” Navil asked. “You should be out doing something besides burying yourself in work.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to get work done so I won’t spend all weekend thinking about it.”

  “I understand, brother.” Batting her eyes, she continued, “Do you want some company around? I don’t have any significant plans.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Malcolm replied, “Your choice.”

  With her almond-shaped eyes looking directly at Malcolm, she said, “Brother, for the record, I think that you’re the best teacher at this school. I really feel bad. How are they letting quality teachers go when there are some teachers here just collecting a paycheck?”

  Not looking up at Navil as he was reading over some paperwork, Malcolm replied, “I’m cool; really I am. I’m not messed up about it. I appreciate the concern.”

  There was indeed a lot on Malcolm’s mind. He very seldom let anybody know what he was thinking. He was one of those brothers who could keep everything to himself without showing any signs of stress. From his writers’ block, Destiny’s mother, the piercing questions from his mom, and now losing his job, Malcolm was at his wits end.

  Sitting back in his chair, Malcolm placed both hands behind his head as he swiveled back and forth in his chair. “Navil, I know you have something better to do than sit here with me and watch me grade papers while I drown in my sorrow.”

  “Brother, I’m looking out for you. I got plenty of things I could be doing. I’m trying to make sure that you don’t sit up here all night on a Friday burying yourself in work.” Navil then walked behind the desk and proceeded to pull on Malcolm’s arm. “Okay, Negro, I didn’t want to do this, but we gotta go.”

  Malcolm tugged his arm away and groaned, “Navil, what are you doing? I have to get this stuff done.”

  Hooking her arms under his, she tried to lift Malcolm up. “Come on—let’s go grab a bite to eat, and I have something that will help you clear your mind.”

  Malcolm cracked a smile and shook his head. “You are a persistent little thing, aren’t you?”

  Navil just stood there with her arms crossed as she smiled.

  Malcolm let out a long and deep sigh. He swiveled his chair in the direction Navil was standing. He folded his arms and replied, “Okay—okay—you win. I give up.”

  Malcolm began to pack his things and followed Navil out the door.

  “YOU GOT TO ADMIT that was the best meal you’ve ever had.”

  Malcolm pulled out a Newport and replied, “It was alright! Well, I guess I should head on to the crib.”

  Navil replied, “You don’t want to come up for a sec?”

  “I really shouldn’t, Navil.”

  “Brother, I won’t bite. You don’t have to pick up your daughter, so don’t try and pull that. However, you will have to put that cigarette out.” Navil grabbed the cigarette from Malcolm and put it out with her size 5 pumps.

  Navil pulled on the sleeve of Malcolm’s charcoal Kenneth Cole coat. Malcolm frowned a little and dragged his feet. However, he let her lead the way to her condo.

  Still dragging his feet, Malcolm slowly entered Navil’s home. He was immediately impressed by the contemporary décor and the rooms’ color schemes. “This is a nice pad you got here.”

  “Thanks, I try,” Navil replied.

  Malcolm continued to look on in astonishm
ent at the perfectly coordinated condo. The walls in the living room were a plum color with white crown molding throughout. The white bordering on the fire place illuminated the light and gave the room a welcoming vibe. Like Malcolm, Navil had her own wall of great African American leaders. But her wall was mostly African American women. Navil’s wall consisted of great sisters such as Shirley Chisolm, Marian Edelman, Maya Angelou, Coretta Scott King, and many more.

  “You thirsty?” Navil asked.

  Malcolm gave her a wink. “Since you don’t drink, I’m afraid to ask what you got,” Malcolm replied in a joking tone.

  “Negro, just because I don’t drink that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to entertain my guest.”

  Malcolm laughed. “Navil, please—I’m probably the only guest who’s ever been over here.”

  “You keep on with them jokes. Anyway, if that was the case, you should feel honored. You should want to take a picture with me. Anyway, I have wine and non-alcoholic beverages if you prefer that.”

  Malcolm replied in a sarcastic manner, “Non-alcoholic!” He smiled and continued, “I’ll take a glass of wine, please.”

  Navil showed Malcolm around her place.

  They began to venture towards the hallway that connected the living room to her master bedroom, which was one door to the left of the guest restroom. The wall vibe switched from plum to an earthy color.

  “I really like the vibe you got going on with your crib!” Malcolm said again.

  “Hey you know what they say—your home should reflect the image of yourself in a non-human form. So if you have a messy home, more often than not—you will have a messy life,” Navil replied.