Trilbi Small Attorney at Law

Diedra M. Burr

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• Fiction

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• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 27 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669871347
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

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TRILBI SMALL ATTORNEY AT LAW
DESPARATE
DIEDRA M. BURR

Copyright © 2002, 2023 by Diedra M. Burr.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2023905678
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-7136-1

Softcover
978-1-6698-7135-4

eBook
978-1-6698-7134-7
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
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.
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 03/27/2023
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
850240
CONTENTS
Introduction
 
Chapter 1Meet & Greet In The Street
Chapter 2Dad’s 70 th Birthday
Chapter 3Staccato’s Work Place
Chapter 4Taylor’s with the Girls / Derek
Chapter 5Derek Then Charles
Chapter 6Penthouse To Paco’s
Chapter 7Penthouse After Paco’s
Chapter 8Hawaii With Jeremiah
Chapter 9At The Office
Chapter 10Dion & Brandy
Chapter 11Headed To Staccato (Remembering Intro To Chanel Cologne)
Chapter 12To Staccato’s House
Chapter 13Staccato At Taylor’s
Chapter 14Staccato After Taylor’s
Chapter 15After The Spa
Chapter 16Get Away Plans
Chapter 17Tha Reella
Chapter 18Tha Reella & ZZ Top
Chapter 19Remembering Eazy E
Chapter 20Monday Before Get Away
Chapter 21Tuesday - Trench Coat
Chapter 22Tuesday Afternoon
Chapter 23Wednesday Before Catalina
Chapter 24Thursday Morning To Catalina
Chapter 25Thursday Afternoon In Catalina
Chapter 26Friday In Catalina
Chapter 27Saturday - Transition in Catalina
Chapter 28Jazz on Catalina Island
Chapter 29Sunday In Catalina
Chapter 30Monday Leaving Catalina
Chapter 31Tuesday After Catalina
 
Acknowledgments
INTRODUCTION

H i, my name is Tribli Small. Yes I know. for all you scholars and historians out there, my name makes you think of hypnotism and Svengali, but let me tell you, my mother told me the story too, and ain’t nobody hypnotizing me, putting me under no spell, or any other form of control, at least not until the day I met Staccato Bernard
The scene is Los Angeles, California in what is known to some as ·Mid-Wilshire” and to others “Hancock Park”, the home of the famous Johnnie Cochran.
Wilshire Boulevard has been everything in Los Angeles for decades, and to an attorney or doctor, being on the strip of Wilshire Boulevard - from Downtown L.A. to Century City - can make a career. That’s where my office is. I’m a well known, albeit not prominent, yet, attorney.
My office is just west of the “Shaw” - Crenshaw Boulevard. It’s August 1999, summer time and living is not necessarily easy. It’s hot and society is in a simmering swelter in anticipation of what they believe to be the change of the millennium.
I own a beautiful home in East Rancho Dominguez, aka Compton, California with sprawling lawns, front and back, swimming pool, two car detached garage, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, formal dining room; living room and office space. I mean what else could you want? But in today’s society where racism is probably more rampant than in 1930, your address determines who you are in other peoples eyes. So screw it! I keep the Marina Del Rey apartment to have an upper class address.
Well enough about where I work and live, let’s get back to the summer of ’99.
I’ve been in a relationship with a married man, separated, but legally married nonetheless, waiting for that infamous promise to come to fruition and I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I have made New Year’s commitments, mid year promises, threatened, given ultimatums - all to myself - but I can’t shake him. I am, what the kids say, SPRUNG’ on him. But that another story for another time.
I gave you that short back drop so you can understand where my head was and why I had the state-of-mind “...I can show him better than I can tell him...” attitude.
Right now I’m receptive to just about any man I see. If I see a man on the street I’m wondering if God has sent him my way to rescue me.
So you see my dilemma. Some say no dilemma, He does not love you, he just enjoys the good stuff you have to offer, get rid of him. You’re too tough... Yea right!
So anyway, here I am in August of 1999. I was in a car accident in July and I was hurt some but I did not want to do extensive treatment. I am self employed and I cannot afford to be off or our of the office more than a day or two at a time.
So I treated with a doctor friend of mine (no prospect there) right across Wilshire Boulevard, directly in front of my building. I had gone for treatment on that day and was returning to my office. For some reason when I go to the doctor I have no problem crossing the Boulevard, but coming back across those fast paced six lanes of traffic is truly an effort
What I usually do is get across the first three lanes and then stand in the middle of the street in the left turn lane like it’s a divider until the traffic passes or stops to allow me to cross the street.
This is where my story begins...
CHAPTER 1
MEET & GREET IN THE STREET
I t is sooo much traffic coming west on Wilshire I don’t think I’m ever going to get across the other half of the street.
It is hot! Thank God I have on this dress I bought at the African market Place. Its a light weight print with low cut in the front so much of my full breasts are revealed along with the yellow rose on the right breast. The bottom of the dress is cut high in the front with slits on both sides, while the back hands long. It is loose yet revealing. l knew it was hot so I have on panties, no stockings, and a pair of black patent leather high-heeled pumps, and of course, my Trilbi bag. My hair is pulled back in a pony tail. l look good!! My sister sends me straw bags and/or purses every spring for my birthday and they have become to be known as the Trilbi Bag.
Finally a car stops in the lane closes to me and I step into the lane. Others pass and then finally all traffic stops as I switch my behind across the remaining lanes. Just as I enter the final lane and before reaching the curb I notice the most gorgeous black man in tight bicycle gear standing on the sidewalk watching me. Why do I suddenly feel like Loretta Devine in “Waiting to Exhale” when Gregory Hines is watching her cross the street and she realizes he is in fact watching her full sized behind cross the street?
Yes, I am a full figured woman and for all of you who think men do not want you or us, you are mistaken. For me, men watching me has never been a problem. Anyway...l step onto the curb and enter the middle of the sidewalk where the man who looks like Adonis is obviously waiting for me.
He says “...Baby, I had to stand here and watch you cross that street You are totally oblivious to the commotion you have caused.” He points down the street towards the Washington Mutual Bank. “Do you see those two cars? Homeboy in the front car was watching you cross the street and the guy behind rear-ended him; they’re pulling up there to the bank parking lot to exchange information...” He laughs, the sexiest free-spirited laugh I had heard in a long time. Oh how pretty his teeth are and you know what’s going through my mind - God, is he the one? But I am brought back from my reverie when he says “...watching you cross that street, causing the traffic to stop reminded me of my mother Ruby, down in New Orleans {he says it like someone from there). Ruby could stop some traffic coming down Bourbon Street, those wide hips swaying as men stared out of their car windows. Watching you sure brought back memories...and you smell soo good too! Baby where did you get that dress, who is the designer?”
By now I am grinning from ear-to-ear: but I respond “I don’t know who the designer is, but I bought the dress from a vendor at the African Market Place that is held here annually.”
He says “I have heard so much about the African Market Place but have never had the pleasure of going there.
He asks me my name and I say, “Trilbi Small, what’s yours?” He responds “Stat, Staccato Barnard”.
He says he would like to see me again and asks for my telephone number. I am actually staring at these full arms, muscles rippling everywhere and I truly cannot see where he would have a pen, pencil or paper in that spandex cyder’s outfit
“What are you going to write my telephone number on?” I asks him. He says “tell it to me, if it’s meant for me to call you I will remember your telephone number.
I tell him the telephone number to my office and he looks at me with such longing in his eyes, it was like we already knew each other. “I could kiss you right here” he says to me. I give a little chuckle and smile, and say “...oh, you want to be at the third date already, huh?” We both laugh and I turn to walk way [to keep from saying “let’s just get a room across the street”) especially since there is a hotel/motel adjac