Least of My Brothers

Nicole Alexander

Description

Paradise found in a vivid colorful world under clear blue tropical waters is wiped out by hurricanes, and later replaced by a web of drug dealing that lands me at home during COVID. What better way to take my mind off my own problems, than to Save the World on Paper listening to the Luv Gov's Daily Briefings? My real life and work on hold with no one to trust peppered with inexplicable bureaucratic delays underlain by politics and international intrigue, is overseen by no other than Heaven, where God and Satan wage their war for Every Soul. Dialog among my favorite Saints Raphael and Michael displays Divine Intervention that helps guide a path through the morass to the other side.
Dear Luv Guv: I totally get the mountain you created, walking each step of your daily COVID briefings with you, anticipating and coaching from my love of football, SCUBA Diving, Sea Captain and School of Hard Knocks experiences. I boldly critique your presentations as if you are a Divemaster. Please pardon, but my ideas oft preceded your daily briefings. Sharing this with my long-time friend and confidant via email, we joke, “Just Solving All The World’s Problems on Paper”. Home during Shelter-In-Place, I finally finish writing novels.
You are positively portrayed except for our dads’ brash talk, a literary device I created to show New Yorkers, even politicians, are not that different from Midwestern farmers. Don’t worry, no one takes anything Dads say about daughter’s potential boyfriends seriously. As a Bible student, consider that Dad faults King David, a nearly perfect man in God’s eyes. Yes, of David and Goliath fame.
On morning strolls on Heaven’s outskirts, your dad, the illustrious former Governor, finds my dad who eked his way into Heaven on a loophole I found. In my overactive imagination, our dads talk about our mutual single status. Your dad is intrigued by my ability to talk smack, my figure (always a strength), my brain (particularly in governance), and my knowledge of Football. They meddle, using Divine Intervention Tricks to help us together solve the COVID Crisis.
Singles whether city or country, across the entire universe endure matchmaking. Despite all the hoopla and uproar, more unites us all than separates, excluding elitist greed and fear mongering designed to distract and separate Average Americans from money and opportunity. That gets me started down many rabbit holes and frequent laments “Where Have All The Heroes Gone?” P.S, I withhold judgment on your “The Boyfriend” take. I’ve learned to observe these things first.

Sujets

• Diving
• Romance
• Love
• Intrigue
• Music
• Fiction
• Fantasy
• Big Brother

Informations

• Publié par: Archway Publishing
• Date de parution: 16 avril 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665740210
• Langue: English

Extrait

LEAST OF MY BROTHERS

MY FOREVER CUOMO CRUSH
 
 
 
 
NICOLE ALEXANDER
 
 
 

 
 
Copyright © 2023 Nicole Alexander.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
 
Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4074-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4021-0 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905038
 
 
 
 
Archway Publishing rev. date:  04/04/2023
CONTENTS
Dive Log
Prologue
Preface n Disclaimer
The Least of My Brother’s
Intro
Chapter 1     Alpha
Chapter 2     Beta
Chapter 3     Charlie
Chapter 4     Delta
Chapter 5     Echo
Chapter 6     Foxtrot
Chapter 7     Golf
Chapter 8     Hotel
Chapter 9     India
Chapter 10   Juliett
Chapter 11   Kilo
Chapter 12   Lima
Chapter 13   Mike
Chapter 14   November
Chapter 15   Oscar
Chapter 16   Romeo
Chapter 17   Sierra
Chapter 18   Tango
Chapter 19   Uniform
Chapter 20   Uniform
Chapter 21   Whiskey
Epilogue
About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
a. When You Gonna Get Married?
b. Do You Like Girls?
c. WT? What’s Going On?
d. Where Have All The Heroes Gone? Thank GOD: Found ONE.
e. BONUS! Not 1, but 2 in 7 Billion?
f. Help from Above
g. Gaslighting 101. No. What you feel is. No. What you think is. No. What you saw is. No. Those blisters on your feet don’t mean your shoes are too tight.
TRUST ME.
h. Gotta Get Ahead of It.
DIVE LOG
Diver Brooke, my sisters are coming down. We want to dive the Wreck of the Droid with you. Do you think I’m ready? Says my dear friend who I taught to dive a few years ago.
Now that was a wonderfully enjoyable challenge. Let’s just say that while she was extremely motivated, she was equally nervous. We spent extra time getting her across the finish line. In each class, I dig deep into many little tips I figured out in many years of teaching classes of 1 -4 people. Sometimes I figure out new coaching tricks taking those already certified on a tour through beautiful corals in reds, oranges, purples with fluorescent blue fish along underwater canyons and ravines. Each time I watch closely, tailoring my class or briefing to the needs of these particular divers, for the sign of a true expert is the ability to assess what will get through to the diver on the spot to affect a mental shift and a behavior change, is it not?
With my friend, what worked was, “Exhale and point to where you want to go, drop to your knees and lean into your finger, which you put on sand. If you look, there’s always a safe, sandy spot, even in the sharpest, densest coral. Even if most of the coral is fire coral. And yes, touching fire coral is as bad as it sounds. It’s like touching a very hot flame. She’s a trooper. I reach my hand out to her as I do to all nervous beginners. She takes hold and stays beside me, gutting it out working through her fears, for she’s truly terri fied.
Trust and Faith is funny that way. I’ll take someone like that anywhere, for in a pinch, together we’ll be able to work our way out of any predicament. I’ll take that over some self -p roclaimed expert who’s likely to jump at a moment’s notice FOR WHATEVER REASON, into the latest, greatest or most common reaction. In SCUBA diving that generally leads to nasty accidents landing the divemaster involved a spot on the back page of DiveMaster’s Quarterly, setting an example of what NOT to do for all.
I take her and her sisters on a warm -u p dive from shore, relatively low -c ost . For those with more disposable income, we do it from the boat. This way when we get to the Droid, I know what I have to work with. Nothing worse than an unknown. Except 6 unknowns. Run the permutations of that. Another friend dove the Droid with us that day. He came to me already certified but fairly new. That generally means entrenched bad habits. Re -t raining is a far greater challenge than training someone right from the get -g o before they develop bad ha bits.
I had a Captain along that day to help me. Because of split groups I needed to brief the ones at the back of the boat more than the ones at the front, so I sat mid -b eam on the deck looking backwards. There’s no hand hold, so there’s no standing. The rule on a boat is one hand for the boat, one hand for the task. It’s a smooth ride and I’m engrossed. Suddenly a wave crashes the side. Splashes me as though I’m hit by a tidal wave. I rush the Captain’s stand. We’re in 8 -1 2 foot seas topped with 4 -f oot chop in a 26 -f oot boat. We’ve yet to hit the last stretch where the water is always roug hest.
“Captain, shall we turn around?” I ask quietly. I can’t forget the look he shot me. If he was Blackbeard, he’d have tossed me overboard for insubordination. Hard to call it insubordination, though, when I’m paying Captain’s daily commission, tisn’ t it?
“GO BACK NOW?” He barks, then lion roars. “I brought you this far, we damn well aren’t turning back now.” “Aye, Aye, My Cap - i t -T an . All Righty Then.” I say as I quickly turn so, he doesn’t see me laugh and smile. Something about men. When they bark and growl, they most certainly don’t want to see you smile, much less hear you l augh.
El Capitan got us there safely as promised. We splash and drop under the clear beautiful blue water. Kudos to the new and rookie divers. Of the 525 times I dove that wreck, this was one of the two strongest current days. Also, it’s one of the greyest, lowest visibility days. We’re surrounded by a thick, dark, grey mist, that leaves us feeling Ghosties of the 200 men who died here when her Majesty’s Ship exploded into bits when a large rogue storm wave struck her mid -b eam . It hit where the brand new steam engines lie, and blew this mail ship into bits, as opposed to a female ship. If it weren’t for bad jokes, we’d have no jokes at all. This was right when they were switching from sail to steam, they learned a lot about boilers, ships and cold waves that day. Re -d esign definitely needed! Same shipbuilders built the Droid as built the Titanic and another infamous wreck, the Lusit ania.
Current is so strong this day we can’t leave the hull. I tried swimming out the Infinity Hole but was blown back by such strong currents we were like leaves in a hurricane. I swam us out another hole blown into this mighty ship where we play one of my favorite games. You literally crawl along the bottom against the current, legs out like you’re doing a push -u p while you find a place in the sand to dig in and pull yourself along. We stay belly to the bottom where surge and current are weaker, largely because of friction. When you round the stern, you lift off the bottom and fly like Superman until you reach the Standing Ribs and Infinity Hole. Duck back inside out of the current and surge, explore the inner metal hull encrusted with coral, tiny little bright fish swimming everywhere. Do it a gain.
You can imagine my Captain’s shock when we came up the bowline. Normally we work our way around the moon shaped string of ship wreckage. It lays like one of those pearl necklaces that’s more chain than pearls. We swim until we see the proverbial Silver Spoon and the damselfish who protect it. They say the Captain himself carried it there on that last fateful day. Often, we see a 5 -f oot green moray eel like the one who gave eels a bad name in the movie “The Deep”. We rub the lucky porthole. It’s the only one left intact. Swim through the Tractor -S ized prop under the stern, we do before making an extra -l ong safety stop. Yes, just to be safe we stop to let excess nitrogen off -g as from our body, then make an extra slow ascent. We do come up far from the boat, but we are down wind down wave, so it’s an easy float back to the boat.
When I first started taking divers here, there weren’t many boats so the Captain can theoretically move her closer to the stern while we’re under. That is NOT safe. For then if IT hit the fan, I wouldn’t know where the boat’s moored. Later after so many saw all my internet posts, there’s a waiting line for a mooring at the wreck every day, so we swim back anyway. Funny how that works, tisn’t it? Once everyone hears about a great secret spot, it’s never the same a gain.
Our second dive is surprisingly calm and beautiful, a welcome respite after the harrowing drive and intense wreck dive. This spot is conveniently located 5 minutes from my Favorite Watering Hole, a Double Decker Pirate Ship in a beautiful translucent blue bay. This island is where Long John Silver sailed in, set anchor and much of the tale of Treasure Island transpired, so they say. The second dive is where Jim waited for 2 years after that cutthroat pirate decided Jim was no longer of use to him. Jim waited there until a young 14 year old boy sailed in. Together they rig