Fat Joe Novels & Stories

"You're going to get us closed down by OSHA, dude." "Uncle Bob, who is Osha?!" He picked up his little niece and carried her into the kitchen to wash her hands and put on an apron and hairnet. He was practical, so he intended to put a note with the sandwiches stating that they were the creation of 4-year old Jasmine Hyden and were FREE. Troy poured himself a cup of coffee and then walked to the table with Jace and her friends. "I've been thinking about opening up an Internet café…" THE END

So, I made a decision. "Grandpa, Nicholas is right," I said, looking only at my grandfather even if Nicki was just beside him. "Besides, you know what I want. I don't like people talking about me. If we make this marriage public, they will surely say nasty things about me." "Why are you thinking like that, Angelina? You are not lesser person because—" "Just agree, Grandpa!" I snapped. I did not want him to say that I'm fat and all. It's embarrassing!

I said, keeping my voice low, "they can still call you. I think they can still question you." "But I can't say nothing. If I do, Mr. Fitzgerald will be angry." "The law is more powerful than Mr. Fitzgerald." Even as I said the words, I heard my uncertainty. Legally what I said was true. No private agreement could supersede the law. The law always won. Just like the song said. And then I recalled another old song, one Jane used to listen to. The singer had red hair, Vicky someone. She sang about a 'backwoods judge in Georgia who had bloodstains on his hands.' I even believed that Reba McEntire did a cover of the song. Suddenly it had new meaning.

**** The clatter of plates echoes in the cafeteria as I pick mine up and start toward the food line, but my steps falter when I catch sight of Zoe. She’s piling her plate with… everything. Pancakes, pasta, chicken, rice, even a random stack of pickles. The sheer amount of food makes my jaw drop. “Zoe,” I hiss as I step closer to her. “What the hell are you doing? Are you feeding an army?” She shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m hungry.” Hungry? That’s an understatement. She’s practically emptying the cafeteria’s food trays, and everyone’s staring at her like she’s sprouted a second head. Even the older lady behind the counter is frozen, ladle in hand, watching in stunned silence.

Twelve months of carrying this alone, and I still didn’t know how to make it sound like anything other than insane. “A year ago, I was a waitress. There was a private room, a locked door, something in the air neither of us asked for.” I made myself keep my eyes on his face. “It was me, Jason. The woman from that night.” For a moment, he just looked at me. Then he laughed. It wasn’t a kind sound. It came out short and disbelieving, the kind of laugh a man gives when someone’s insulted his intelligence instead of amused him.

You know the Fosters. Everyone does. From the beautiful Victorian on the bend. A stone’s throw from the canal. Damon was a policeman, back in the day. Discharged on pension. Went on to become a cardiologist—best one within a reasonable drive. I hear they pay him a fortune.

It couldn't be. I turned around in my seat. He was seated right beside me, his dark hair thicker than before; he looked healthier and so much better, clad in black denim, a black leather jacket over a black t-shirt that stretched over his broad chest to show me he'd spent the last couple of months working out a lot. He was wearing boots beneath. My breath caught in my throat, his caramel brown eyes danced with amusement and mischief. He was here! "My name's Jackson Wolfe, but you can call me Jack. What's your name, beautiful?"

Brian’s image stared back at me, his eyes having this smoldering look in them. He looked all man now, gone was the usual boyish charm I used to see around him. The caption said, “GHANAIAN MILLIONAIRE? BRIAN SMITH HAS MADE IT ON THE FORBES 100 LIST OF YOUNG RICH MALES.” My heart skipped a beat, a I immediately threw the magazine in the trash can near my desk. God, why? I don’t know what the hell that was, but right after I’d gotten my life on track, and could actually say I was happy, I see this.

yeah, Jason did it last week," I respond, looking at my new ink fondly. Jason was a boy I'd met at the human village when I was forced to start attending school there. My parents had initially placed me in the pack school, but they quickly took me out after a week of cruel bullying from the other kids. Mom homeschooled me until grade nine, but my parents felt like I needed interaction with other people. They said it was essential to my development. Jason was the only friend I'd made at the high school, he was also the person I lost my virginity to, and we had casual sex now and then, but mom didn't need to know that. During his junior year, Jason dropped out of school and began his apprentic

"Hey sis, I made you a nice dinner. I hope you eat it, and please don't think too much. I know you might think I'm just joking or making a mess with you, but I promise I will make sure you get Dean back, and this time, I will never go away." I smiled as I read the note and opened the covered plate to reveal an amazing dish. I smiled and didn't waste any time as I started eating, feeling a bit happy. I kept eating and soon finished everything on the plate, deciding to take it to the kitchen. It was lonely, and once again, I remembered my past, feeling like I needed to start all over.