Sheer Madness

Greg Abbott

Description

Sheer Madness picks up exactly where Sheer Pressure ends, following Alex and Emily from scandalous love to mainstream marriage—where life really begins and where the stakes become even higher.
Sheer Madness picks up where its prequel Sheer Pressure leaves off, only on higher octane and with higher life-and-death stakes. It follows the evolution of Alex and Emily as their once scandalous love affair feathers its way into the Upper East Side Manhattan mainstream jungle. That is where their lives really begin and where the reader learns who they really are and what they’re made of.
A gripping 20-year family saga, Sheer Madness takes the reader to unexpected realms, as a couple with its roots in idealistic love endures a slew of harrowing experiences in schools and boardrooms, hospitals and cafés, courtrooms and prison—all under the shadow of a well-financed black magic curse. All these venues are captured by Greg Abbott with a true savant’s perspective, in a fast-paced, highly readable tale that nonetheless fits together like a grand jigsaw puzzle.
Challenges, tragedies, and surprises abound in marriage, education, high finance, child rearing, near-death illness, the occult, rap music, the media, and prison. As the characters develop in fascinating, unforeseen directions and discover their true destinies, for better or for worse, the reader is treated to a large and delectable story chock full of tragedy, intrigue, humor, injustice, vengeance, betrayal, redemption, and always the unexpected. In the end, through all the breathless tribulations, Sheer Madness is about the triumph of love and the human spirit.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Entrepreneurship
• Hip hop music
• Paternity
• Greg Abbott
• Private school
• Ponzi scheme
• Occult
• Romance
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 25 juillet 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663254016
• Langue: English

Extrait

Sheer Madness
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Greg Abbott
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SHEER MADNESS
 
 
Copyright © 2023 Greg Abbott.
 
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.
 
This novel is a creation of pure fiction. While certain characters and events from the author’s experience and observation over decades may inspire certain elements of the book, as is the case with almost every novel, including the prequel Sheer Pressure, the overall story line and character portrayals are strictly products of the author’s artistic imagination. No conclusions whatsoever should be drawn about any actual people or events, as the author’s sole goal is to tell what he hopes to be a compelling and entertaining tale. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with those of the author.
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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www.iuniverse.com
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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: 978-1-6632-5400-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5402-3 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5401-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023911502
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 07/24/2023
Contents
Chapter 1     The Tombs
Chapter 2     Lovebirds and Dirty Birds
Chapter 3     Arranged Marriage Moneymoon
Chapter 4     Inside Baseball: Jackie and The Babe
Chapter 5     A River to His People
Chapter 6     C-Section and the Cyclops
Chapter 7     Election Night Curse
Chapter 8     Cwouching Wappah, Hungry Tiger
Chapter 9     Let’s Hope It’s Only COVID
Chapter 10     “Dickless Wonder” and Other Euphemisms
Chapter 11     All I Want for Christmas
Chapter 12     Et Tu, Boris?
Chapter 13     Schoolin’ the School
Chapter 14     Why Me, SWAT Team?
Chapter 15     American Nightmare
Chapter 16     Triumph and Treachery
Chapter 17     Keeping Secrets
Chapter 18     The Promised Land
Chapter 19     To Those Who Wait
Chapter 20     The Monied Launderer
Chapter 21     From Hell to Hallelujah
Chapter 22     Amateur Night at the Apollo
 
 
 
 
 
WARNING ADVI SORY:
For the sake of an optimal reading experience and appreciation, it is recommended that the reader start with Sheer Pressure (available at www.sheerpressure1.com ) before tackling Sheer Madness , which picks up where Sheer Pressure leaves off. Not doing so may be hazardous to your psyche—and, more importantly, mine. These non-identical twins must not be separated.
 
 
 
 
 
This novel is a creation of pure fiction. While certain characters and events from the author’s experience and observation over decades may inspire certain elements of the book, as is the case with almost every novel, including the prequel, Sheer Pressure ; the overall storyline and characters are ultimately products of the author’s artistic imagination. No conclusions whatsoever should be drawn about any actual people or events, as the author’s sole goal is to tell what he hopes to be a compelling and entertaining tale. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with those of the author.
 
To Lulu, Buckam, and Eeneebee,
My pupils, my teachers, my reasons to be,
My heart, my soul, my family tree,
My shining lights through adversity.
Whatever my faults, whatever I lack,
Just know for sure that Pops got yo’ back!
Have no fear of stormy weather,
Piece of caaaaaaaaake, long as we stick together!
Always remember, Eeneebee, Lulu, and Buckam,
If dey don’t love who you are,
Dey ain’t worth it, so fuck ’em!
So, in conclusion, Buckam, Eeneebee, Lulu,
Know fo’ sure yo’ pops always love you,
Nothin’ in this dedication’s provisional,
My love for you’s un-bleeping-conditional!
So, in dedicating this sequel to Sheer Pres sure ,
Allow me to say: you be my treasure!
Smile when you read Sheer Mad ness ,
Hide every trace of sadness,
Although a tear may be ever so near,
There be nothin’ to fear, nothin’ to fear.
 
Special thanks to the aptly named Joy.
Chapter 1
THE TOMBS
February 2003
Boom!
The iron door slammed behind Alex Halaby with a clang that reverberated throughout the subterranean Tombs, as New York’s downtown holding pens are aptly called. The dimly lit cell reeked of body odor and stale urine. His jailer’s parting advice before depositing him had been “Don’t drink water from the spigot. It’ll kill you.”
Water was hardly his major concern, as twenty-three African American and Hispanic occupants peered at the newbie with curiosity. On both sides of the dank, dystopian hallway were several cells like this one, filled with street criminals—committers, Alex hoped, of just petty crimes. He was the cell’s sole Caucasian, but the tuxedo, bow tie, silk hankie, cummerbund, and patent leather pumps were what truly distinguished him. Were a prison gang bang to take place, was there any doubt as to who the bangee would be? He hoped his bruised face, half-closed shiner, ripped jacket, and blood-splattered pleated shirt would give him the cell-cred sufficient to blunt any elitist vibe.
It was standing room only. Around the perimeter of the twenty-foot-square cell was an iron banquette on which several of the inmates—most with their jeans halfway down their hips, revealing either dirty briefs or unseemly butt cracks—lay asleep. The rest of the seating was taken up by menacing young men with dreadlocks, do-rags, tats, and attitudes on the sleeves of their hoodies: the welcoming committee. An open metal toilet and mini-sink occupied the far corner; catty-corner to the toilet was an anachronistic pay phone, under which slept a man big enough to anchor the Giants’ defensive line.
Alex’s skull throbbed; his body, especially his ribs and jaw, pulsed with sharp pain. With nowhere for him to sit or walk, his mind began to pace like that of the expectant father he was, thinking that Charles Lukes and the simian bodyguard who’d pummeled his face into mashed potatoes, not himself, belonged in the Tombs. With trepidation, as if he were surrounded by a pack of wild animals, he kept his distance and avoided eye contact—all the while sensing that he was being watched. Then, from out of nowhere, overcome by the utter weirdness of the situation, he let loose a nervous laugh—loud enough that, when he looked up, he was sure he had become the center of attention. He wiped the smile off his face before one of his confreres did it for him and sidled over to relieve his bladder. The toilet seat was splattered with urine, the bowl teeming with human fecal potpourri. He turned away from his cellmates and did his tinkling, aiming with care despite the futility of it all. He then flushed the toilet with the sole of his shiny pump—to be a good citizen, but mainly to keep from vomiting, which would have involved convulsions his ribs couldn’t have handled. That his predecessors hadn’t flushed underscored the apathy around him.
In spite of the restraining order, he had expected to be allowed to stay at Lenox Hill Hospital while Emily Lukes gave birth to his son, but the law proved a rigid, unsentimental beast. With the same professional urgency with which Emily had been ushered into the delivery room, the cops had laid hold of him and driven him off through the freezing February evening to the Nineteenth Precinct on East Sixty-Seventh Street for the requisite paperwork, and eventually downtown to the Tombs. There he’d been forced to stand in line for well over an hour with the nightly haul of street criminals, many of whom seemed to be familiar with their surroundings and on a first-name basis with one another. Processing involved confiscation of all his possessions: wallet, watch, keys, cell phone. He hoped the processors were equally conscientious about seizing box cutters and switchblades. Before consigning him to the holding pen, they had issued him a half-dozen squares of toilet paper and a worm-infested apple, which he declined. Even without the worms, he couldn’t have eaten it—only purees would do for his wobbly tooth and possible broken jaw. But for now, given the open cell’s open toilet, he made the snap decision to take up fasting.
The arresting cops had seemed almost sympathetic and minimized his predicament: It would “just be a couple hours” before his public defender would summon him to appear before the judge. “You’re a first-time offender, I’m betting. You’ll be out in no time with a slap on the wrist.”
Even so, he imagined there would be an astronomical bill for damages wreaked on Claire de Lapalisse’s apartment: Lalique vase, Matisse print, Aubusson rug, ornate handcrafted Parisian curtains, and any other charges the conniving Claire, Charles Lukes’s first ex-wife, could conjure up. Just how much legal and financial trouble he was in he had no earthly idea. He certainly couldn’t count on any honest or uncompromised witnesses in the Baroness’s gl