Life on the Fast Track – 5

Track 5 : If you say ‘Yes’, I promise, It will be Good.

Making his way through the crowd, Danny followed Jasmine out of the club, catching up with her outside.

“Jazz,” Danny said, rushing in front of her, stopping her progress to her car.

“Spit it out.  No more games.” Jasmine stared at him.  “I don’t want to—

“Yes, you do,” Danny said, his hands on her slender shoulders.

“I need you to.”

“I can’t,” Jasmine said.

Danny shook his head, then looking at her, he cursed under his breath and leaned in.  He kissed her hard, a demanding kiss that took her breath away.  Pulling her against him, he kissed her with all the frustration she caused him.  It pleased him when she clung to his arms.

When they both needed air, he pulled away and asked, “I want that every day.  Don’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said, her eyes bright under the street lights.  “I don’t want to hurt, Danny.  I know you how much you can hurt me, Danny, and I don’t want it.”

“I could never—, look at me, Jazz—, I could never hurt you,” Danny insisted.  “Jesus, Jasmine, can’t you see how much you matter to me?”

Jasmine looked away, those tears in her eyes breaking free and sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t want it.”

“What happens if I keep pushing?” Danny asked, tilting her face up with a finger, so that he could look into her eyes.  “I never figured you for a coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” Jasmine said, stepping away from him.  “Just protective of my heart.  Will you give Terry a ride home?  Tell her I had to go.”

Jasmine hurried to her car, and left Danny standing alone, staring after her a tad baffled by her resistance.  He turned to head back to the club when Terry appeared.

“Go after her,” Terry ordered.  “Can’t you see she’s scared?  It won’t end unless you step up, dear brother.”

“She doesn’t want me,” Danny said, disappointment filling him.  He’d thought Jasmine would take a chance—

“Push harder,” Terry said.  “Go on, now.”

“You’re bossy, little sis.”

“Someone has to be,” Terry smiled.  “Listen to me.  It’s not that she doesn’t want you.  It’s that she wants you too much.”

Because Terry was never wrong, and he desperately wanted to fight for Jasmine, Danny nodded and headed for his car, pausing only to ask.

“How will you get home?”

“Jimmy is here,” Terry called back.  “Don’t worry about me, Danny.”

****

Jasmine had barely entered her house when a knock came on her door.  Thinking it was her younger brother, she sighed, removed her heels and reached for the front door.  Opening it, she stared in surprise at the man who stood on her porch, with one hand braced on the doorjamb, his head bent.

“You should ask who is at the door first,” Danny complained.

“Why?” Jasmine looked behind him, to see his car parked in the little yard outside her house.  Her house was a one-bedroom guesthouse in a very quiet neighborhood.  Security was high, and she rarely needed to worry about being secure thanks to her landlord.

“I don’t get visitors at night.  I figured it was family.”

“You truly make me worry,” Danny said, walking into her house without waiting for an invitation.

“Danny, what are you doing here?” Jasmine asked, closing the door.

“Answers,” Danny said, standing in her hallway, studying her.  “You gave me interesting ones.”

“Danny—

“No.”  Danny cut her off, stepping closer, he hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her lips to his.  He kissed her gently.  Sweetly.

“I want you.  I know you want me too,” he said against her lips.

“Danny.” Jasmine sighed, when he wrapped his arms around her.

“Just let it happen, Jazz,” he said, lifting her up as though she weighed no more than a feather.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, when he kept the kiss going.  Heading into the living room, Danny sat down on the couch with her on his lap.  Wrapping gentle fingers around her neck, he traced her skin with his thumb, pressing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to hold you this way for a very long time.”

“Really?” Jasmine met his gaze.  “How long?”

“Since high school,” Danny said with a laugh.

“I couldn’t tell.  It didn’t seem possible.  You were so untouchable.”

“Untouchable?” Danny chuckled.  “I’m also unapproachable, and a person to avoid.  So many accusations for one man.”

Danny studied her.

“Well, I have one for you, Jasmine.  You are a serial dater.”

Jasmine bit her lip and dropped her gaze to his mouth.

“Well, my excuse is that I couldn’t date the one I wanted,” Jasmine admitted, then pressed her forehead on his shoulder to hide her face.  Her heart beat too erratic for her to keep a straight face.

“Who did you want to date?” Danny asked.

Jasmine closed her eyes, and for once allowed the truth out.

“You, Danny.  I wanted you.”

“Do you want me now?”

“Yes,” Jasmine answered on a whisper. Danny let out a relieved sigh and held her tighter.

“That’s all I need to hear,” he said. “Is it?”

“Yes, it is,” Danny answered, pulling her back to kiss her.

Danny kissed her as he had wanted to for so many years.  Hungrily, savoring her taste, devouring her mouth, exploring, a kiss made him feel as though he was making up for lost time.

“Danny,” Jasmine gasped, her fingers sliding to the back of his head, holding him to her.

“I want you, Jazz,” Danny said, trailing kisses down her throat, he kissed her left ear, and whispered.  “Do you want this?”

Clinging to him, Jasmine felt as though saying no would mean missing holding Danny.  So, she leaned closer, and kissed him.

“Yes,” she said.

“It will be good,” Danny said, holding her gaze.  “I promise.”

“I know,” Jasmine answered, and lost herself in him.

***

To be continued….Thank you for reading! ^_^

←Previous Track

Life on the Fast Track – 4

Track 4: My blood is the color of engine oil

Hidden in the lush green lands of Kiambu, was a private three-acre farm converted into a racing track.  Danny and Jimmy had worked years on modifying the piece of land for their racing needs.  Their work resulting in an exciting racing movement with an exclusive entry requirement.

Walking into the main field, engines purred, their sweet roars making Danny’s blood heat with excitement and anticipation.  There was nothing more intoxicating than speed.  The field in the middle of the track was packed with cars, the crowd thick and rowdy, drinks already flowing.

Danny walked through the crowd, his car keys in hand.  Beside him, Jimmy carried a laptop and a duffel bag full of equipment.  While Danny concentrated on getting through the mass of people, Jimmy scanned the crowd, his gaze sharp, missing nothing.

“We are secure,” Jimmy said, when they reached their spot.  “I’m glad Anderson’s people aren’t coming tonight.  They are trouble.  We should never have let him buy in to the races.”

Danny nodded in agreement, unlocking his prized Matte White Nissan Skyline.  The only other person allowed to drive this car was Jimmy, and only to make sure the engine was up to par.

“The last race we had, Anderson almost got us arrested.” Jimmy shook his head, hooking up his laptop to the engine.  “There is something not right about Anderson, Danny.”

“He could be a thief,” Danny said, pulling off his leather jacket and throwing it on the passenger seat.  “I’ve heard of his type before.  If he is, we’ll be in trouble.  The races will need to relocate, and that will cost us.”

“I’ll have a talk with everyone,” Jimmy said, running diagnostics on the engine.  “What happened with you and Jazz?  Did you tell her you paid for the repairs?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Danny said.

Jimmy spared him a short glance.

“You yelled,” Jimmy said, nodding his head, satisfied with the engine.  Nodding for Danny to turn off the engine, he unhooked his laptop and met Danny’s gaze.  “When are you going to suck it up and be nice to her?”

“Don’t think I haven’t tried.  She’s impossible to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy smiled.  “Only with you.”

Danny glared, making Jimmy chuckle.

“Can we concentrate on the race now?” Danny asked.

“Fine.  The Sumani Chicks are in,” Jimmy said, nodding to a pair of Machine Gray Mazda Mx-5s parked a few feet away from Danny’s car.  They were surrounded by four tall women, in long dark braids, and wearing hot pink spanks and tops.  “They are as mean as they are hot.”

“That’s because they have holes for hearts,” Danny said, winking at the women in greeting.  “Is Nic Mugera here?”

“I don’t think he could miss a showdown with you, especially since he owes you a log book.  You embarrassed him the last time,” Jimmy answered, his gaze finding an ice blue R34, surrounded by four beautiful women in red leather. “If we didn’t hate each other’s guts so much, I’d date one of them.”

“They’d kill you in your sleep,” Danny said, his gaze colliding with Nic Mugera’s icy one.  “He’d have them do it.”

“Speak for yourself, I wouldn’t stick around long enough,” Jimmy said.  “We can’t forget the Tanzanian, Mikhail is here.”

“It’s a darned reunion,” Danny sighed.  “Fine, set up the winnings, and don’t forget to warn everyone about Anderson.  We need to find a solution to him.”

Danny got into his car, effectively shutting everyone else out.  Driving took skill, an understanding of the machine and the role it needed him to play.  He’d always felt most at home behind the wheel, moving at top speed, leaving everything behind.  He lived for that exhilarating high and wouldn’t, no,  couldn’t give it up for anything.  It was his freedom, his chosen drug.

Danny’s love for speed came from his father.  Raphael Kihome was a grease monkey to the bone and often joked that his blood was the color of engine oil.  Raphael had given Danny his first run on a race track.  Danny had been four years old at the time.

Now,  at twenty-seven, Danny doubted he could learn to do anything else.  This race tonight was about working out tension.  Tension brought on by the one thing he couldn’t seem to get right in his life.  Jasmine, Danny gripped the steering wheel tight.  In all her crazy, wild twenty-five years, how was it that she couldn’t see it?  Was she so hell-bent on dating losers out there?

Jimmy knocked on his window.

“The pot’s fifty per head, making it two hundred on the finish line.”

“Done,” Danny said, pulling out an envelope from his jacket.  He handed it to Jimmy.  “We need a new spraying machine.”

“You bet, the old one’s out of style,” Jimmy said with a wink, and stepped back as Danny turned over the engine.  “I’ll be at the finish line.  Hurry will you, I wanna catch up with Jazz and Terry at the new club.”

***

The club’s name was Sense.  The hottest place to be tonight.  Terry and Jasmine were allowed in as VIP, since they knew the club owner.  They hit the dance floor immediately, as the DJ spun the newest dance hall music.

“Ooh, there’s a really hot guy checking you out on my six,” Jasmine said to Terry a few minutes later.  “He’s totally undressing you right now.”

“Don’t make me laugh.  You’re already scoping the man-market?” Terry teased.

“Not for me,” Jasmine said, bumping her bootie with Terry’s.  “I don’t want no hook-up tonight.  Your brother already gave me whiplash.”

“In that case, I won’t tell you about the hot guy totally checking you out behind you.  I think he’s already getting it on with you in his head.”

Jasmine burst out laughing, Terry pulling her into a mock tango.  It didn’t take long before the stresses of the day disappeared.  Jasmine and Terry changed partners, tapping into the crowd’s energy. Jasmine loved to dance, she came to clubs to have a good time, and forget her troubles for a short while.  It was also a great place to get inspiration for her plot.  So many different personalities.  Lately, the club scene was proving a valuable muse to her.  She was hoping to send in a manuscript to a publishing house soon, and perhaps lady luck would be on her side—

Jasmine’s dance partner slipped a tight arm around her, then that hand started to slide down to her butt.  Jasmine grabbed it fast and stepped back.

“We’re done,” she said, turning away.

The young man took her upper arm and pulled her back, the motion fast and surprising.  She was about to yell when a hand pushed the man back, the force of the push, sent her partner to the floor.

“Fuck off,” Danny Kihome growled, his eyes glittering with danger at the man on the floor.

“Shit,” Jasmine cursed.  “What’d you do that for?”

“He was grabbing at you,” Danny said, his gaze still full of anger.  “Do you want him in your face?”

Danny was now holding on to her arm.

“I can take care of myself,” Jasmine said, pushing away from him and starting for the bar.

“Damn it, Jazz, simple thanks would suffice,” Danny followed her.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Jasmine said, taking a seat at the bar.  The bartender placed a shot of strawberry daiquiri before her.  “Thanks, Tommy.”

“Do you know everyone?” Danny asked, unable to stop watching her.

He wanted to pull her away from here and take her someplace where he could have her to himself.  She looked so beautiful, all that soft skin, the color of dark tea with a hint of milk.  It pissed him off to see all the men in the joint ogling her.

Danny reached out to push back a lock of slick black hair that had fallen over her right eye.  Her short hair cut was perfection, simple and elegant.

“Jazz, I—

“Let’s not fight,” Jasmine said quickly, she sipped her drink.  “I don’t want to spoil this night, Danny.”

“I was going to suggest the same thing,” Danny said.  “Can we talk?”

Jasmine glanced at him.  “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, “Danny said, with a small smile.  He had won the race and his bank account was two hundred large richer.  “I just—, I want to talk with you.”

Jasmine smiled.  “You’re full of surprises today.”

“You too,” Danny said, accepting a beer from the bartender.  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Why you avoid me,” Danny said.

“We found that it was mutual, didn’t we?” Jasmine said, turning in her seat to face him.  “You give me an answer first.”

Danny studied her for a second, then looked away, sipping his beer.

“You scare me,” he said.

“Way to win over a gal,” Jasmine laughed.  “Although, that gives me considerable power.”

“It does.  Power wielded by you is dangerous, Jazz,” Danny said.  “Now you answer me.”

Jasmine sipped her drink, then gave him a small smile.  “You scare me too.”

“You’re using that because I said it.”

“No, no, I’m serious,” Jasmine said.  “I’m not trying to be funny.”

“We’ll see about that,” Danny said.  “I’ll get that answer.”

Jasmine shrugged.

“How was your race?”  Jasmine sipped her drink again to cover her curiosity.

“It was good.  You refused to come.”

“It’s not my scene,” Jasmine answered.

“Why?” Danny asked, turning so that he sat facing her.

She was playing with her glass, and wouldn’t look at him.  So, he asked again.

“Why Jazz?  You don’t like cars?”

“No.”  Jasmine shook her head.  “It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

Jasmine stared into her drink, then sighed.

“Nothing.  I gotta go.”

“No.” Danny held her arm, stopping her from getting off her stool.  “Tell me, Jazz.”

Jasmine met his gaze, and shook her head.  “I just don’t like it.”

“Why?  You don’t know anything about racing.  You’ve made an assumption on something you’ve never given a chance,” Danny said, wondering whether they were even talking about cars anymore.

“I don’t need to give it a chance,” Jasmine said, meeting his gaze.  “It’s easier not to know.  That way, I won’t care.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny still held her arm, keeping her in place.

“Exactly that, now let me go,” Jasmine said.  “I told you I don’t feel like fighting tonight.  The longer we have this conversation, the more likely we’ll start screaming at each other.”

“Damn it, Jazz.  We don’t have to fight.”

“How can we not?” Jasmine asked.  “Tell me, Danny?  How did it feel tonight, on that race you had?”

“Exhilarating, it would have been even better had you come,” Danny said.

“We can’t get along,” Jasmine said then.

Holding his gaze, it took only a second for Danny to realize the problem.  His momentary shock gave Jasmine the opportunity to slip away from him.  She was half way across the dance floor before he could move.

***

To be continued…. Thank you for reading ^_^

←Previous Track

Life on the Fast Track – 3

Track 3 – I Like You So Much, I’m Terrified

The next few minutes were a blur for Danny.  He could only think of her delicious scent when she leaned into him.  Her soft lips on his clean-shaven jaw and how much he wanted her to do it again.

“Danny?” Jasmine called again, snapping him back.  “Earth to Danny, is everything okay?”

“Sure,” Danny cleared his throat, blinking.

Jasmine was in the dining room, looking at him, her gaze expectant.  Following her, he realized breakfast was ready.  Jasmine had set the table.  Smiling at her, Danny moved to the dining table.

“Where did you go?” Jasmine asked, as she sat down to her breakfast.  Picking up her fork, she dug in.

Danny, charmed, watched her eat.  He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth.

“The food looks good.  I didn’t know you could cook.”

Jasmine laughed.

“Danny, you’ve avoided me for a while now.  You don’t know many things about me.”

“Avoiding?  I haven’t avoided you,” Danny said, picking up his fork ready to deny the truth.

“Really?” Jasmine studied him.  “Hmm…then, I have avoided you,” she said, taking a sip of her orange juice.

Her comment had him looking up to meet her gaze.

“Why?” he asked.

Jasmine looked away first.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “Just ‘coz.”

“I want a reason,” Danny prodded, watching her eat eggs.  He imagined watching her eat eggs for the rest of his life was not a bad idea.

“No, you don’t,” Jasmine said, sipping her juice.  “How’s the business of cars?”

“Fine, we’re still standing,” Danny said, reaching for pepper to sprinkle on his eggs.

“Speeding against the air waves?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“It’s my passion,” Danny said.  “I have a race tonight.  Would you like to come?”

“No.”

Jasmine answered without much hesitation.

“I have somewhere to go tonight,” she said.

“Oh yeah, with who?” Danny asked, his teeth gritted at the answer he would get.

“Someone, anyone,” Jasmine said quietly.

“But me” Danny finished for her, matching her tone.

“I’m avoiding you, remember,” Jasmine said, finally lifting her gaze to study him.  “You and I, we’re very—, different.”

“Because you’re avoiding me,” Danny said, placing his fork on his mat.  “You piss me off more times than you know.”

“I hardly talk to you,” Jasmine frowned.  “I make sure not to.”

“Do I have the plague?”

“Can’t we have a nice meal with each other?  No arguing.  I owe you a debt—

“You don’t,” Danny said, louder than he intended.  “I helped because I wanted to.  You’re Terry’s friend.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Jasmine said, annoyed now.  “This is why I avoid you, Danny.  We can’t seem to be cordial to each other.”

Danny got up from his seat.  He reached into his pocket, pulled out her car keys and placed them on the table.

“You know what, you’re right.  Call me if anything sounds wrong with the car.  I have to go.”

“Sure,” Jasmine said, not moving.

Danny glared at her one last time before he stalked out, making sure to slam her front door.

Avoiding, ha!  Jasmine was too much.  Did she even realize he’d asked her out and she had ignored it?  Not to brag, but the list of women who wanted such an invitation was long, especially tonight.  Plenty of women!

Turning his car toward the highway, Danny cursed under his breath.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t avoiding her too, but the fact that she actually admitted staying away from him with such a calm tone, that pissed him off.

“Speeding against the airwaves,” Danny scoffed.  “Who says that?”

****

“We had breakfast,” Jasmine said, hours later.  “Then he left.”

“That’s all?” Terry exclaimed.  “Oh, come on.”

“It was an exciting moment,” Jasmine said, flashing Terry a smile.  “He yelled as usual.  You can at least give me credit.  I made him eggs.”

Terry shook her head at her best friend and wondered what she had to do to get her brother and Jasmine together.  Her best friend and her brother were the two most idiotic people she knew.  Did they need everything spelled out to them?

“Quit matchmaking,” Jasmine said, pushing clothes on the rack in her closet.

They were getting ready to go to a new club tonight.  Jasmine wanted to let loose after her disastrous breakfast.  The day had not improved, and her mood was sour.  Terry had found Jasmine dealing with work problems, the warehouse she worked for wouldn’t stop calling her.

“I’m exhausted with drumming sense into you,” Terry said, moving to take Jasmine by her shoulders.

Giving Jasmine a little shake, Terry sighed.

“You two need to stop dodging the obvious.  Things will get easier if you face up to the truth and stop avoiding each other.”

***

To be continued….Thank you for reading ^_^

←Previous Track

Life on the Fast Track – 2

Track 2: The Situation as it is, is not what you See

A white fluffy cat jumped up on the kitchen counter when Jasmine walked into the kitchen.  She purred loudly and Jasmine chuckled.

“I know you’re hungry, Min.  So am I.  What do you think we should eat?”

Jasmine went to the refrigerator, staring at the contents with a sigh.

“Looks like it’s milk and tuna for you, Min.”

Jasmine retrieved a can of cat food and opened it.  Emptying the contents into a bowl, she stuck the bowl into the microwave.  Her phone rang when the cycle ended and she placed the bowl on the floor for Min.

“Hello.”

“Jazz, do you want to tell me you forgot to come home for the family dinner?”

“Mum,” Jasmine sighed.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it.  I forgot to call.”

“What happened?”

“Work,” Jasmine lied, not wanting to explain that her car broke down, and she needed to fix it.  That she wasn’t sure she had enough money to do it.

“They are working you too hard,” Wanja said in disapproval.  “Come home, Jasmine.  You’ve proven yourself.  I promise we won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“Mum,” Jasmine said.  “I like work and how busy it keeps me.”

“Then, why do you sound so tired?  You’re not taking care of yourself.”

Jasmine sighed.  “I’m fine, Mum.  I’m sorry I didn’t come home.  I’ll try and make it before the weekend is over.  Say hello to Jenny and Daryl.”

“Fine, goodnight Jazz,” Wanja said.

“Goodnight, Mum.”

Hanging up the phone, Jasmine stood leaning on the kitchen counter thinking about her mother’s concern.

Jasmine wished she could throw the towel in and go home, but, how could she?  Her pride would not let her after the huge fight she staged with her father to gain her freedom.  She argued with her father long and hard.  In the end, the man only let her out of his house after she promised to return home if something went wrong.

If you come back home, Jasmine, you’ll stay without complaint.

Jasmine sighed and shook her head.  She would never give him the satisfaction of claiming she was in trouble.

Nope, never.

Her father was in the army, and for most of her early life, she’d lived the life of an army brat.  Her father traveled too much and those early years, he insisted on moving with his family.  Until Jasmine entered high school and got tired of not having close friends.  After a particular nasty row with her parents, her mother made the decision to settle them down in Nairobi.  Buying land in Dagoretti and building a house.  Thanks to this, Jasmine was able to meet Terry during their first year of high school.  Theirs was a fast friendship one that stuck for over ten years now.

Jasmine didn’t know what she would have done without Terry’s constant support.  Especially when she decided to live on her own after college.  Her father thought it a coup, and that’s how she ended up with the ultimatum.

Despite the arguments, Jasmine loved her family, and knew it was because they loved her that they acted the way they did.

So, she vowed never to tell them her problems, unless she murdered someone.  Shaking her head, Jasmine resumed her search for food, her thoughts straying to Danny.

How long had she had a crush on that man?  Ten years?

In high school, Danny acted like she didn’t exist.  No matter how many times she tried talking to him, it didn’t seem to make a difference with Danny Kihome.  The guy was tough to crack.  With time, her crush matured into something more.  Unfortunately, his ignorance of her had also increased to new heights.  She could never get close to him it seemed.  It didn’t help that Danny was Terry’s brother.

Jasmine cherished her friendship with Terry, so she never made any attempts to close the distance Danny created.  It wouldn’t do to have a fallout with Terry over her older brother.  But, it didn’t mean she couldn’t look.

Lord, but the man was hot, thanks to hours spent wrestling engines and wrenches, she imagined.  His gaze made her shiver, so intense, she sometimes felt like he was seeing everything about her.  He had a strong jaw, kissable lips, and she so wanted a taste.

Swallowing a strawberry, Jasmine closed her eyes and decided restraint was the best strategy.  Being around a guy like Danny could only mean trouble.  Speed junkies were married to their cars and engines.  She certainly didn’t need the heartache.

***

Lack of sleep kept her up all night typing up a new chapter in her book.  At around seven in the morning, Jasmine sat staring at her laptop screen and the blinking cursor.  Inspiration had ran off with the night, right as she reached chapter ten.  The characters refused to move forward.

Getting up, she stretched her arms above her head and went to the kitchen to make breakfast.  With Min rubbing against her socked feet, Jasmine started the coffee maker.  It was Saturday, and she was off work for two days.  Her only obligations today were grocery shopping and convincing Terry to go out later to a new club in Langata.

She was busy frying eggs when the doorbell rang.

“Come in, I’m in the kitchen,” she called.

She didn’t want to leave the cooker on.

Hoping her visitor had heard her, Jasmine turned the eggs and was about to plate them when Danny appeared at the kitchen entrance.  Her kitchen had two doorways, one that opened into the dining room, the other led to the hallway that led to the front door.

Jasmine stood at the counter along the hallway side in old pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and bugs bunny socks, her hair sticking up.  It wasn’t her best look.  She had always tried to look her best around Danny and it was mortifying to have him see her this way.

“You should be more careful who you let in,” Danny said in greeting, scowling at her.  “What if I was a serial killer?”

“You certainly aren’t, unless you’re hiding a big secret,” Jasmine said, placing the frying pan back on the cooker.  “Want breakfast?”

The question was unintended.  She asked it because she did the same for all her friends.  He’d probably refuse—

“Sure,” Danny said.

To her credit, she masked her surprise, instead, reached for the eggs and started to break them into the heating pan.

“I brought your car,” Danny said, taking pleasure in watching her move around her kitchen.  This was a new side of her he had never seen.

Jasmine looked relaxed and laid back.  Far from the mask, which he realized now for what it was, she gave to the world.

“How much do I owe you?” Jasmine asked, a frown playing on her forehead as she calculated the money in her account.

“Nothing,” Danny said, remembering Jimmy’s reaction when Danny decided to pay the cost with his own cash.

‘Marry her already.’

“I can’t let you do that,” Jasmine said, a bit shocked by Danny’s answer.  “I know it was a huge mess and all, tell me what was wrong with it and how much it cost.”

“Your car needed servicing.  You have ignored maintenance for a while,” Danny lied, thinking of the new engine the Chevy now boasted.

He had wanted to get it repainted and reupholstered but that was his need to upgrade any car.  Jasmine would have wanted to pay for the obvious changes.

“Maintenance?” Jasmine studied him.  “You’re not kidding me, are you?”

“I’m not,” Danny answered, his lips twitching a bit at how intently she watched him.

“I can’t believe it,” Jasmine sighed.

Maintenance, oh well, she was guilty of adding petrol and oil without much thought to anything else.  Turning off the gas cooker, she stopped before Danny, coming up on her tiptoes, she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I owe you,” she said, pulling away.  “Thank you.”

To be continued….Thank you for Reading. ^_^

←Previous Track

Life on the Fast Track – 1

Track 1: The Unexpected

Loud rock music filled the garage.  Crashing guitars and drums accompanied by screaming vocals, how anyone could appreciate this stuff was unbelievable.

“Danny!  Holy Virgin, how can you exist like this?  You’ll never get a wife.”

The song ended and Danny got the last part of the comment.  Sliding out from under the Shelby Mustang he was fixing, he lifted his head to stare at his sister with a raised brow.

“Turn the volume down,” Terry Kihome ordered, glaring at him from her position at the garage door.

She looked like an avenging dark angel in her tight fitting black jeans and top, her long mass of dark fake hair tumbling down her back.  The glint in her dark eyes warned him that her natural temper was unleashed.

Lord save him from crazy, pint-sized women.

Sighing, Danny fluidly got to his feet and moved to the stereo by the wall.  Hitting the pause button, silence filled the room and he turned to look at his little sister.

“What’s up?”

“You and your rock music,” Terry snapped, shaking her head, clearly irritated.  “It’s a wonder you can fix anything in such chaos.”

“Teresa, what did you want?” Danny asked again, his tone calm and unconcerned with her discontent.

Terry stared at him for a moment, and then shrugged, deciding she could rant and rave for hours and he’d only ignore it.

“I need a favor.”

“What type of favor?”

With Terry, a man needed to ask.  She could get the devil in trouble, and he was neck deep in it already.

“Pick up Jazz for me.”

“Jazz!” Danny felt an involuntary shiver travel through him as the image of a matching face came to mind.  “Why?”

“Her car gave up on her.  She’s stuck on the side of the highway.”

It was not going to happen, Danny thought in panic.  He’d managed to avoid Jazz for an entire year.  His plans would not change so easily.

“Why can’t you do it?” Danny asked her.

“I’m going to work, remember?  Come on, Danny.  She’s my best friend, and I won’t leave her stranded,” Terry pleaded.  “Please do this for me.”

How could he refuse?  Terry looked so worried.  To think of Jazz stuck on the highway, alone…a woman alone—

“Fine, which highway?” he asked.

Terry smiled, and hurried into the garage to give him a kiss on his jaw.

“I love you, Bro.  She’s right off the exit into Muthaiga.  You can’t miss that car of hers.”

Danny nodded and watched Terry run out, her spirit lifted.

“Great!”  He’d made his sister’s day and ruined his.

“Be nice to her,” Terry called back and he felt an actual shudder at the thought of trying to be nice to Jazz.

He’d never met another woman who could drive a man crazy just by being herself.  He’d gone through high school watching Jasmine Lima from a distance.  Beautiful, gorgeous Jasmine was the life of the party then and still was now, ten years later.  She and Teresa became friends in high school; their bond had only increased through the years.

As far as he knew, Jazz lived a wild haze of parties and bad boys.  She’d dated all the football players in their high school team.  It was no different now.  It seemed as though Jasmine had a new boyfriend every week.  Last week, he seemed to recall a Mark or Michael?

A girl like Jazz could rip you apart, he thought as he took off his work overalls.  Picking a pair of keys from a cluttered table, Danny stalked out of the garage and headed for his tow truck.

He would get Jazz’s car and drop her off at home, nothing more.

***

Letting out a long sigh, Jasmine Lima sat behind the wheel in her old Chevy Cavalier and wondered at life and its fairness.

How was it on the day she’d had the worst time at work, her car decided to blow a gasket?  Not that she was sure that was the problem.  She was completely engine illiterate.  Though she understood one thing, waking this baby up was going to put a sizeable dent on her savings.

Just what she needed, Jasmine thought, with another sigh.  As if she didn’t have enough problems already.

Punching the steering wheel to keep tears of frustration at bay, she opened the door and stepped out.  Her boots crunched on gravel, the wind high, as the weather was caught between wanting to rain and not.  She pulled the ends of her heavy sweater around her and frowned at the cars passing swiftly on the road.

Where the hell was Terry anyway?

It was going on an hour now.  Leaning into the car, she reached for her cell phone and checked the time, almost two hours now.  Sighing, she closed the driver’s door and leaned on it, her grip on the cell phone tight.  A strong wind came, and she glanced up at the dark clouds overhead.  For a full minute, she contemplated calling home.  Her mother would be home, so would her younger sister and brother.

The thought disappeared as quickly as the wind passed.  Calling home would create a new set of problems she did not need.  Yep, she would settle for Terry she decided with a shiver.

“You should carry a heavier coat,” a gruff voice said to her left, startling her out of her wits.

Turning, she stared at the tall man walking toward her.  She wasn’t aware of the tears spilling over. Why him?  Why was it that today of all days, she had to see him?

***

“Damn it!  Don’t cry,” Danny said, at a loss when he saw the tears sliding down her soft brown cheeks.  His words seemed to make them come faster so he moved to her side.

Taking her by the shoulders, Danny led her to the passenger side of his tow truck and helped her in.  Hurrying back to her car, he reached in and got her car keys.  He spent a few minutes hooking the car up to the tow truck.  When he was done, he retrieved the purse on the passenger seat of the Chevy.  Closing the door, he hurried to the tow truck and slid into the driver’s seat.

Twisting so that he could see Jazz, he handed her the purse.

The tears had disappeared and she was looking at him with huge dark eyes.  Then biting her lip, she looked down.

“I’m sorry,” she said, opening her purse.

The expression on her face made him fight hard to hold back a laugh.  It was too obvious that he was the last person she’d been expecting.  He bit back the laugh because it was also obvious that she’d had a tough day.  She would not appreciate a laugh right now.  Looking away, Danny cleared his throat and asked,

“What happened?”

“The car blew a gasket,” Jasmine said, digging into her purse for something elusive.

“Really?” Danny asked, focusing his gaze on her.

“I don’t know, Danny.  You know more than I do about cars.  I’m imagining it’s something that bad,” Jasmine said, finally pulling out a pack of tissues.

Women’s purses fascinated him.  The amount of things they could stuff in them was mind blowing.  She blew her nose and he smiled.

“I can check it out if you want,” Danny offered, aware that if he did this, he’d have to see her again.

“Could you?” Jasmine asked in relief.  “I’m sure it’s something big and I’m at my wits end right now.  I could use the help.”

She looked exhausted.  Sleep is what she could use right now, Danny thought.

Why was she working so much?  Why was she so stubborn?   She couldn’t see him.  Him right here, who wanted to take care of her.

I’m right here, Jazz, right here.

Starting the truck, Danny said gruffly, “Don’t fret.  I’ll bring your car around when it’s done.”

Jasmine smiled at him, her face so pretty—

Lord!

He needed to rush this.  He would have the car fixed by tomorrow, and then he would never have to see her again.  He couldn’t handle being too close right now.

***

“This car is a junk yard winner,” Jimmy complained as he studied the engine.  “It’s too old.”

“We’re fixing it,” Danny said, dropping the keys on the worktable in their garage.

He and Jimmy were business partners.  They owned a garage where they fixed, tuned, customized cars and anything else that included optimizing a car’s performance and look.  Their real passion was speed.  Danny hated to think what his mother would feel about his extra-curricular activities that catered to this passion.  He loved the fast lane.

“This is Jazz’s car, isn’t it?” Jimmy guessed, meeting Danny’s gaze.  “She’s the only one you would do this for.  Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Danny shrugged, hating the fact that Jimmy knew him so well.  They had known each other since childhood.  Having grown up in the same neighborhood, their dreams aligned, they’d ended up following those dreams together.

Jimmy, last name Mitoni, was the son of an engineer working for Toyota.  When Jimmy turned eighteen, his father, now a big corporate executive was offered a job by Toyota in Tokyo.  Jimmy opted to remain home to finish his college and now lived in the house neighboring Danny’s in Kiambu.  Their garage was five minutes away from their estate.  Jimmy liked to call their life, the ultimate choice.  Since they were doing exactly what they loved with their lives.

Staring at the sorry state of the Chevy’s engine, Jimmy looked like a contented man in his oily overalls, his dark hair cut close to his head.

“I’m not you, Jimmy.  She’s—

Danny stopped, trying to think of a neutral word to describe Jasmine.

“Hot?  Sexy?  A babe?” Jimmy offered with a slight grin.  “If you didn’t have a thing for her, I’d have asked her out by now.”

Danny glared at him for that.  He knew how many men were after Jasmine.  It wasn’t easy knowing it.  Like her name, she was an exotic woman with a luscious bod that she knew how to use to drive men crazy.

Jimmy laughed when he looked up and saw the grim expression on Danny’s face.

“Do me a favor, Danny, since we’re fixing this abomination, how about you tell Jazz how you feel?  In the process, convince her to get a new car too.  Sawa?”

Danny smiled at that.  They both knew he was going to keep silent and watch.  Which was absolutely pathetic, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

“Danny Kihome, I worry about you,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

***

To be continued….Thank you for reading ^_^!

A/N: Turning over a new leaf, and writing again, inspired lots, so let’s see where this takes us.  Still writing the Enchanting Violinist, don’t be discouraged.

P/S: This story is also called Jasmine & Danny and may be running on The Naked Convos Kenya Blog, if they like it that is…lolz…

Moss Green Tree, or the Light Coming through

How can you change perspectives?

This is always the hardest to do when moments in a day pile up, one after another, bogging down your original thoughts, until you can’t remember how the day started and what you wanted to do.  I envy the list-making people, or the schedule-following crowd.  The planner-manics who keep their phones full of alarms, and notes on what should happen each day.

This writer seeks the deity of works-in-progress.  I guess the first step, is simply posting this…and knowing what comes next.  Looks like things are looking up.

Perspective.

How to get an ISBN in Kenya.

Assigning an ISBN number to your book in Kenya

  1. Get an account with the Kenya National Library Service(KNLS)  ISBN service here: ISBN website
  2. Create a Profile, adding important personal details.  Please note we did this as a Publishing Co., (request information if you want to do this as an individual.)
  3. Once  you are set up, click on the ISBN Products.  They offer options of buying 1 ISBN, 10 ISBNs,  100 ISBNs to 1,000 ISBNs.  Choose the number that fits your needs, and make the purchase.  This process is easy, and flexible, you may do it in cash, mobile payment, through the bank, whatever works for you.isbn
  4. Once payment is approved, wait to hear back from KNLS.  They are very fast about this, and you will get a message from them giving you your ISBN numbers, as well as the barcode that goes along with it.
  5. Here is a short guideline of how and when to use your ISBN when you get it and what to do with it once you get it. The ISBN site, sends these guidelines to you once your ISBN is approved.

You may allocate ISBN to the following publications:
– Printed books material
– Microfilms
– Educational video or movies
– Atlases and maps
– Publications in braille
– Electronic publications

ISBN should NOT be allocated to the following publications:
– Off print from periodicals
– Advertising materials (sales catalogs, price lists, prospectus, instructions publishing flyers, etc.)
– Wall posters, newspapers, leaflets
– Programs of theatrical, music and other performances
– List of exhibits without additional text
– Curricula of schools and colleges of all kinds
– Lecture and teaching materials of manuscripts character
– Calendars and diaries
– Form and coloring books

PLEASE ALSO NOTE that ISBN should always appear on the verso of the title page, or if this is not possible at the foot of the title page. It must also appear at the foot of the outside back cover at a prominent outside position.

FINALLY, remember that the BOOKS AND NEWSPAPERS ACT CAP. 111, Laws of Kenya, stipulate that every publisher MUST deposit 2 clean copies of their (new, future and back issues) with the Director, Kenya National Library Service, (National Reference and Bibliographic Dept.). This process begins by filling in details under the “My Publications” section when you log into the ISBN service, and later depositing the copies physically at the National Library for approval. You shall not be allowed to purchase further ISBNs until you complete this process for all issued ISBNs.

Now that you have your ISBN, consider Copyrighting your book with the Kenya Copyright Board

This procedure is for a first time buy, for a second time buy, make sure you have met all their requirements on submitting books to the National Library.

Atlantic by Phil Dass

Atlantic

9dmzyieg4oi-frances-gunnReta eased her running, slowing the treadmill, as she let her muscles relax in relief.

Two minutes later, she went to her yoga mat for cool down stretching exercises, nimbly extending her legs and arms as far as she could.  Then she lay flat on her back on the yoga mat, her face and palms glistening with sweat.

When she started her exercises, it had been cold.  So, she dressed appropriately.  She wore a black seamless lurex pullover and high-waist leggings with her feet ensconced in Nike running shoes. She lay for a few minutes savouring the rush of warm blood coursing through her taut veins as her muscles relaxed after a two-hour long onslaught.

Her reverie broke only when she heard her phone buzz for the umpteenth time.  She never picked up the phone when she was working out and all her contacts knew her routine.  She sighed and stood up, walked over to the window sill and picked up the phone.  She looked at the caller’s name and her shoulders arched up.

“Hallo,” she said softly, trying to hide her excitement.

She listened to the caller for a minute and she cut in, “That’s great…”

Her face fell a few minutes later, her glowing pretty face suddenly losing colour, turning into a frown, and then sinking further into a distressed woebegone look.  Her eyes crinkled up.

“Oh,” is all she said, and then continued to repeat herself – inserting an “ok” now and then, in-between the conversation.

“Ok,” she said again, for the final time.

Then the conversation ended with, “Yeah sure! I am getting into it.”

Gone was the exuberance she had felt when she finished her workout.  She felt drained and incapacitated.  She looked through the window and saw the ocean churning a frothy tide.  Some distance away, she could see the other houses by the cliff.  Further way down, a few miles away, she could see the white beach trying to get one over with the sea.  It was still daylight. She turned to look at the other end of the window and could see the wind gaining speed as the shrubs and the few barren trees swayed dangerously.

She looked at the phone again, tempted to make a call, but seemed undecided.  She put the phone down and walked out of the fitness room.  She crossed the living room and into the open kitchen and poured a glass of water from the jar on the table.  She sipped the water slowly, her face still reflecting a numbed feeling.

“What do I do?  Talk to John and end it once for all?” she frowned at the thought.

She had waited long enough.  This was getting ridiculous. After everything, this!  When everything seemed to be going fine!

She was getting agitated and even more upset.

She placed the glass on the table, and left the kitchen.

Damn, this was not the end!

She went into her bedroom, entered her closet and absentmindedly picked the colorful kanga on the edge of a shelf.  She tied it around her waist, then delved through the overflowing wardrobe, pulling out a sleeveless woolen top.  She wore it too, and left the closet.  In her bedroom, she looked out the windows, and shivered involuntarily.  It was going to be cold and windy outside.  Should I? she wondered.  She wanted to go out.  Clear her head.  Do something other than think of the phone call.  She returned to the closet and picked out a cap, wore it and left the bedroom.

She was about to walk out the front door when she froze, midstep.  She smiled wanly at herself, and detoured.  She went to the bedroom across hers, opened the door and peeped in. She sighed with relief and then gently walked to the cradle to check if the baby was breathing.  Assured the baby was fine, she left the bedroom, and hurried to the gym.  She picked up the baby monitor on the yoga mat and put it in her pocket. 

On the way out, she peeked at herself in the large mirror by the back door and saw that she had become pale.  She tried to smile and pinched her cheeks.  She tried to smile again, failed and shook her head at her own naivety and left the house.

She walked slowly, trying to ignore the cold and the wind.  The sun was setting fast, lending to the gloom around her.  The path was rocky, the shrubs and the grass around the area were losing their colour.  She saw nothing of it – her mind still not coming to terms with the new situation.  After a turn here, an upward stride there, she was soon at the edge of the cliff over 300 feet up from the ground.  The rocky cliff itself fell ninety degrees straight into the rocky edges where the Atlantic Ocean met Africa.

stoat
Stoat- Cute deadly creature…^_^

She stood at the edge, the wind whipping her kanga into a frenzy, she looked back at the lights in her house, checking if John was back.  But no, it didn’t look like it.  She took out the baby monitor and held it to her ear, to see if it was working.  It was.  She put it back into her pocket and turned back to stare into the cold Atlantic Ocean that seemed to be frolicking with the wind.  Her kanga fluttered wildly threatening to come loose.  She felt her waist to see if it was tucked in securely.  Her kanga was going wild and it reminded her of the stoat’s so-called ‘dance of death.’ She had watched it on the National Geographic Channel – the stoat– a puny animal that looked like a mix of a rat and a beaver or a weasel.  Her Kanga was behaving like a stoat doing its famed dance:  flapping, swirling around with frenzied leaps, and upward rolls at dizzying speed, creating a psychedelic vision that was at once riveting as well as dizzying.

She looked up and shook her head, clearing her head of the vision of the stoat and her unruly kanga.  The cold was now penetrating her skin.  Her face was going numb but she did not seem to realise it.  There was a lump in her throat and then the tears flooded down her cheeks and she cried loudly.  The howling wind helped her along.

No, she had to do it.  She told herself grimly while trying to control her sobbing.  It was just two feet away.

She took one step forward.  The wind seemed to support her decision.  She paused and then the baby monitor came alive.

“Hey Love!  Where are you? I’m home!” Her husband’s cheery voice broke through the wind.

She stepped back from the edge and turned around to look towards the house.  She had to wait a few seconds before her husband came into view on the porch, with the baby in his arms.  He seemed to be scouting for her but it was getting darker and she doubted he could see her.

She put the monitor away and walked swiftly back to the house.

“There you are!” John kissed her on the cheek while trying not to suffocate the baby.

“Yes,” she replied. “Was by the cliff – Phew it is cold and windy!”

“So, any good news?” John asked as both of them walked back into their warm and cozy living room.

Reta took the baby from him and cooed into her face making baby talk. There was no sign of her gloomy self by the cliff. The light was back in her eyes and her skin glowed in the light of the fireplace.

“Sure is,” Reta replied. “I am being called for another screen test tomorrow.”

“Swell!” John said. “Congrats – and what role is this for?”

“That screenplay we read together…of the love triangle? They offered me the wife’s role. You know – the one who is supposed to be schizophrenic and suicidal…”

“Nice,” John said. “You will surely get the role.”

”Of course, I will. I just had a practice run by the cliff and I was awesome.”

Reta had a flair for dramatics at short notice.

The End

Story by Phil Dass writing for the Prompt: She stood at the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping her kanga into a frenzy, she looked back….

This little gem was written by Phil last week for a writing prompt exercise.  I loved the dancing kanga in the air, colorful, and fighting with the wind like a Stoat.  ^_^ Didn’t even know there was an animal like this.  You learn as you read more!  Tidbit from Phil: – The story is titled Atlantic as Reta’s emotions are turbulent and changing like the Atlantic Ocean.   I look forward to reading more stories by Phil Dass.

 

The Enchanting Violinist – 3

Hiring the Violinist who sells Weaves in Kinoo.

Phillip clutched his keys, his gaze taking in the quaint town Nyambura had chosen to settle in.  Kinoo was small, out of the city, but still close enough to major hospitals and the hustle and flow.  Having a major highway close was a plus.  Nyambura’s shop was thriving.

She stepped out of the shop, drawing his attention.  She always looked healthy and beautiful.  He smiled.  Her casual style far removed from the ultra modern women he met daily.  No heels for Nyams, she preferred white rubber shoes.  Comfort ruled her world.  Her well-worn jeans hugged her hips to perfection, the white shirt she wore covered her curves but the mystery intrigued him.

Meeting her frowning gaze, Phillip smiled.

“What brings you here?” Nyambura asked, with a flustered smile.

“How are you?” Phillip asked, closing the distance Nyambura kept between them.  “You don’t call or answer messages.”

“Phillip,” Nyambura started.

“I told you, think of me as your friend.”

“Yes,”  Nyambura sighed.  “I know you did.  I’m sorry.  I’ve been busy with the shop and practice.”

Phillip chuckled.

“Excuses, Nyams,” He shook his head.  “I’m not asking for anything else but friendship.”

“Yeah?” Nyambura leaned on the wall behind her.  Her gaze on his car.  “Why don’t you tell me why you came today?”

Nyambura was an escapist.  She continued to avoid his attempts to get close.  Shutting him down without effort, Phillip sighed.

“I have a gig for you,” Phillip said.  “You interested?”

“What kind of gig?” Nyambura asked, finally meeting his gaze, her interest peaked.

Phillip hid a smile and folded his arms against his chest.

“My company has a formal party tomorrow evening.  The main act cancelled.  They’re stuck in Kampala doing another performance.  We have important investors in town, the kind who need classy parties.”

Nyambura frowned.  “How much?”

“Twenty thousand,” Phillip said.  “Formal dress, our guests expect a real authentic show.”

“Twenty-five,” Nyambura countered, forever the business woman.

“Come on, Nyams,” Phillip said.

“It’s short notice, Phillip,” Nyambura said.  “If I need to convince the guys to give up stuff they are doing for cash, I need a good payout.”

Phillip calculated their budget.  The act that cancelled was to be paid thirty thousand for the night, and an early breakfast call.  Their popularity dictated their price.  Nyams and her quartet were classy, but unknown.  Oh well, Phillip decided the payout was well-deserved.  He’d get flack for it from the accountant, but—

“Fine, Twenty-five,” Phillip said.

Nyambura gifted him with her first smile and he stared.  She rarely smiled.  Phillip could count the number of times he’d seen her do it.  Six times, to be exact.  This woman with her hard shell and brown eyes that had seen too much.  She intrigued him.

“Thank you,” Nyambura said.  “What time?”

“Can you show up at five-thirty in the evening?  Set up, and make sure everything is working.”

“Sounds good,” she nodded.  “We need a room to keep stuff, and change clothes.”

“No problem,” Phillip smiled.  “Dinner is on us.”

Nyambura nodded, and reached for her cell phone.  She texted her fellow musicians in seconds, and got a reply back just as fast.  Her excitement was hard to miss.  It made him feel as though he’d helped her win the lottery.  Nyambura’s music was important to her.

Phillip stared at his car keys.  He wished Nyambura would ask him if he wanted tea.  He’d scoped out the little shopping center and the tiny hotel across the street was perfect.  Hell, he could eat a mandazi if she asked.  Or even a samosa

If she wanted, he could drive her to the nearest pizza place.  While they ate, they would talk about everything from the weather, to planting maize…the music people were listening to these days…the possibilities were endless.

“Well,” Nyambura said, and he looked up, hopeful.  “Thank you so much for thinking about us.  We won’t disappoint you tomorrow.”

Yes, the let down was swift, fast.  No room for doubt, Phillip sighed.  Nyambura never dared to give him a hope.

He smiled at her, and she held out her hand for a handshake.

Phillip took her slender hand, squeezed it gently, then she let go, and he was left with no choice but to head back to his car.  He shook his head and walked down the steps.

“What happened to all the courage, Phillip?” he murmured under his breath, and opened the driver’s door.  Getting in, he slammed the door closed and sat watching Nyambura enter the shop with a final wave to him.  He’d come to visit her with such fire, ready to make her hear him out.

Still stuck in friend zone, fail, Phillip scoffed.

Jeez, this was getting pathetic.  His mistake though, he kept spouting all the nonsense about friendship.  If he was ever going to get out of there, he had to confess tomorrow night at the party, he decided.  Nyambura was always at her best when she was playing music, so he’d talk to her right when she was flying high from the performance.

Phillip smiled with anticipation and started the car.

****

to be continued…..Thank you for reading ^_^!

Previous Chapters

The Enchanting Violinist – 1

The Enchanting Violinist – 2

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Koya’s Choice