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Chocolate Lemons
and Peppermint Tears: The Bittersweet Life of Xena Robin R Robinson
Xpress Yourself
Publishing, May 5, 2009
Purchase
Chocolate Lemons and Peppermint Tears: The Bittersweet Life of
Xena Also available in major bookstores everywhere.
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et in Los Angeles in the mid-1990's, Chocolate Lemons and Peppermint Tears: The Bittersweet Life of Xena, tells the poignant, funny, sexy, in your face, and very relatable tale of Xena Quay Vaughan, an attractive, successful, slightly neurotic, never been married black woman in her mid-thirties, who struggles desperately with getting over a married man; her perceived weight problem; being celibate for almost two years; being a natural sista in a weave-uh-diva world, her free-spirited best friend, Renee, with her don't give a damn attitude; finally meeting and falling in love with the one and a mind-boggling encounter between the married man and her lover. This story will leave you wanting more—like seconds at Thanksgiving. |
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After obtaining her AA from Los Angeles City College, Robin went on to USC where she majored in Broadcast Journalism. Years later, Robin reunited with USC when she was tapped to be one of fifteen (out of a field of 300) who made it into the prestigious Guy Hanks/Marvin Miller Screenwriting Program after submitting a Wayans Brothers' (television series) spec script. Robin eventually earned her BA in Management from Saint Mary's College of California in Moraga in 2005. Robin's first novel: Chocolate Lemons and Peppermint Tears: The Bittersweet Life of Xena will be published by XYP in 2009. Initially, the first chapter In the Beginning was an entry in Essence short story contest in 1990. She didn't win; however, that chapter evolved into the tome it is today. She has also penned teleplays, a screenplay, a stage play, an awards show, and poetry. In December 2007, Robin completed a run in the original stage play The Gift. She does voiceovers, has done stand-up, is signed with Cast Images, a local talent agency in Sacramento, and she enjoys to journal; has been doing so since she was 12 years old. She is an avid reader, loves to dance, collects refrigerator magnets and will soon begin work on her next novel. |
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Chapter 1IN THE BEGINNINGXena stood back and surveyed the room. Everything had to be perfect. And from her point of view, it was. The faint, sour sweet scent of their earlier lovemaking floated around Xena’s nostrils and lingered in the air. Fragrances of potpourri that smelled of ginger and ylang ylang wafted side by side an air of anticipation and electricity. Soft, sensuous, sounds of jazz enveloped the room as the deep, mournful growl of George Howard’s saxophone licked at Xena’s ears and made her tingly all over. The gorgeous redwood, very rustic, yet romantic four-poster bed, emitted an aura of pure sumptuousness. The plush, peach-colored goose down comforter seemed to beckon to Xena to enlist herself in its warmth. She smiled subtly to herself. Just hours earlier, her body and his were entwined as they immersed themselves in each other and sought to satisfy the wild cravings that lied deeply within. Xena glided across the three-inch thick shag carpet that was the color of juicy peaches in the sunshine. She approached her full-length antique mirror and dropped her raw silk covering that was the color of burnished bronze and soft as a baby’s bottom. Her beautiful brown eyes travelled down her body’s reflection. Another subtle smile crept across her full, round, soft as a rose petal, mouth. Those regular trips to the gym were definitely paying off. He would be pleased. Again. And oh, how she looked forward to it. Again.
Tying the sash of the robe around her waist, Xena walked into the living room and settled herself in front of the fire with a glass of her favorite wine: Gewurztraminer. The sound of fat raindrops bouncing and dancing on the window serenaded Xena and set the mood as she began to reminisce about her life and the marvelous, enigmatic man she had met only six weeks ago. The man who spelled trouble with a capital “T.” à à à à At 3:33 p.m. on a hot summer day, smack dab in the middle of August in the year 1960, Xena Quay Vaughan was born at Mercy General Hospital in Sacramento, California. An only child, Xena stimulated herself by writing in her diary, which was actually a steno pad, and reading everything she could get her hands on: romance novels, mysteries, action adventure, some science fiction, (she loved Octavia Butler) and even the dictionary. When she turned twelve her tastes developed just as she did and she ventured into poetry and discovered erotica; Anais Nin was one of her favorite authors. Her voracious appetite for the written word was constantly whetted and ultimately satiated by the myriad of writers (mostly African American) whom she would grow to love and learn from. Xena always knew that she was blessed, even as a young girl. She knew that her life would be much more than the everyday grind of mediocrity. And oh how she dreamed of leaving sleepy little “Sac Town,” (affectionately dubbed by the natives) as soon as she could. Granted, it was a wonderful place to be born, raised and go to school since it was clean, homey and relatively safe. But it was also a place where everybody knew everybody else, worked for the State and got paid on the same day—usually the last workday of the month. Nevertheless, it was still home and she had to make the best of it until she could get on the good foot and get gone. Xena found herself more bored than not and if it weren’t for the adventures she took while reading she knew she would have gone bonkers a long time ago. Quite naturally, Xena gravitated to people who marched to their own drum and dreamed big dreams. She made friends with those who not only understood her need to express herself creatively through her writing, but who were also very supportive of her biggest dream: To move to Los Angeles and become hugely successful writing novels and screenplays. These were the folks she wanted in her space. Folks who didn’t give a damn what people felt or thought about her wonderful uniqueness. Folks who could understand and appreciate that in order to soar one had to spread ones wings and take a leap of faith, even if the building was fifty stories high. When she was a budding young girl with new breasts tucked neatly away in white cotton training bras bought on sale three in a pack at J.C. Penney, Xena and her best friends, Tracy and Toni, would spend hours daydreaming about the palatial mansions they would live in, the servants who would serve them, and the rich, powerful and sexy men they would have to juggle around in their date books. “Sooo many men and sooo little time,” they would say, before bursting into girlish giggles. Tracy was going to be a famous pediatrician and Toni, a hotshot electrical engineer. Lofty expectations for young girls who were expected to go to college, get married, have two kids; maybe a dog, and buy a nice tract home furnished by Levitz that could be paid for in easy monthly installments. Xena was stubborn and headstrong, (being a Leo and all) and when the dreams of her friends started fraying at the edges and began to look a little worn, she would be the one to give them pep talks and lift their spirits: “Hang in there, girl, stay focused; keep your head to the sky and your feet on the ground.” However, those words got stuck in Xena’s throat like sand paper more often than not when she found herself constantly defending the barbs and dismissing the negativity that was steadfastly thrown her way by those who were “only looking after your best interest, dear.” Those who didn’t want her “to get your hopes up.” Those who wanted her to think about getting a “sensible job so you can have something to fall back on, sweetheart.” In spite of that, the tenacious threesome continued to hold onto their dreams for many years; all three of the girls taking and excelling in college courses that would put them on their respective and necessary professional tracks. But when Toni and Tracy both moved away, their parents wanting desperately to go back home, down south, time started to fly. It wasn’t long before Xena found herself not only the number one fan in her fan club. But the only one. Being blessed was one thing, but believing it was an entirely different issue. And most folks in Sac had not a clue that they were indeed blessed; that they only had to wake up and wipe the sleep from their myopic eyes so they could actually see. As a result, there were a whole bunch of zombies walking around who were content with the ho hum, been there done that, same old song and dance they’d come to accept. And of course, there were the naysayers who always had something negative to say. “Giiirrlll, I don’t know who Xena thank she is,” Sandy said, sucking noisily on a chicken wing that was several drops away from dripping greasy sauce down the front of her cheap, Wal-Mart top. Sandy had been jealous of Xena from day one, since the third grade when they first met. Xena beat Sandy in the fifty-yard dash and won the blue ribbon and from that day on, Xena and Sandy never got along. Besides that, Sandy had a face like a horse, big teeth and an annoying country cackle that made Xena’s skin crawl. The only thing Sandy had going for her was her backside. Baby did have back and she used it to her advantage. She was the type of girl who didn’t have to talk to men. All she had to do was “Shake it to the east, shake it to the west, shake it to the one who could fuck me the best.” “Yeah, girl,” quipped Jenise, who was fishing around for more fries in a basket that was all but empty. Xena was waiting for her to run her index finger around the sides of it so she could sop up all the salt, which was the last thing in the world homegirl needed. Extremely overweight, with thick rolls around her neck that jiggled and got sweaty when she walked, Jenise stood five-foot-three and weighed in at one-hundred-eight-five pounds. And what struck Xena as hilarious was that Jenise always claimed she hardly ever ate. “Yeah, well,” Xena thought to herself, “apparently a small alien has attached itself to your insides and every time you ‘don’t eat’ it gains five pounds just on the QT.” If it weren’t for the fact that Jenise had a really pretty face, beautiful blue green eyes, was soft-spoken and light-skin-ded with a gorgeous head of hair that was all hers (no weaves for her, thank you very much), and she dressed really well for a girl her size (she and Lane Bryant were really tight) she would have been doomed. Kicked right to the curb. “Hell, homegirl need to stay her ass right on here in Sac Town and get a good job with the State. Shoooot, all a ‘dem holidays and benefits,” Sandy said, finishing the last wing, tossing it on her plate and wiping an already saturated napkin across her big, greasy, horse face mouth. “She wants to be a writer,” Jenise said softly, leaning in, slightly panting and moving her hair out of her face before it fell in the basket. “A writer?! What kinda job is that?” Sandy said, scrunching up her face (which was not a good thing for her to do). “How she gon’ make money writin’?” “She gonna be one a ‘dem Hollywood writers. You know, writing movies and TV shows. The big time,” Jenise said, finding a tiny bit of French fry, popping it in her mouth and then licking her well-manicured yet chubby fingers. “Hmph,” Sandy said, sounding like a small animal and rolling her eyes. “What girlfriend need to do is get her head out them clouds and come on back down to earth like the rest of us folks,” before she let go one of her irritating cackles and then applied lip gloss to that big old mouth of hers, while stealing a hateful glance at Xena who had overheard their whole conversation. Xena was standing in line at “Elgin’s BBQ” on Stockton Blvd. waiting to pick up her ‘to go’ order of fried catfish and candied yams; a treat she allowed herself every few months and only when Aunt Flo was in town.
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