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  Color Blind

  Leigh Lennon

  Color Blind

  Copyright @2018 Leigh Lennon

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

  Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

  This book is a work of fiction and is the product of the author’s imagination. Mentions of people living or deceased are for reference purposes only.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used for reference purposes only. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms that are used.

  The E-book copy is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not re-sold or given away.

  This book is a work of fiction and is the product of the author’s imagination.

  Editing by Chelly Peeler at Ink It Out Editing.

  Proofreading services by Deaton Author Services and Erin Toland.

  Formatting by Ink It Out Editing.

  Cover design by Najla Quamber.

  Alpha Reader: Emma Aldridge

  Beta Readers: AnnMarie Barajas, Nancy George, Megan Harris, Megan Damrow, Auden Dar, Michelle Clay, Annette Brignac and Melody Hillier.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  A Little Note on Color Blind

  About Color Blind

  Color Blind Play List

  Prologue

  1. Liz

  2. Israel

  3. Liz

  4. Israel

  5. Liz

  6. Israel

  7. Liz

  8. Israel

  9. Liz

  10. Liz

  11. Israel

  12. Liz

  13. Israel

  14. Liz

  15. Israel

  16. Liz

  17. Israel

  18. Liz

  19. Israel

  20. Liz

  21. Liz

  22. Israel

  23. Liz

  24. Iz

  25. Liz

  26. Israel

  27. Liz

  28. Israel

  29. Liz

  30. Israel

  31. Liz

  32. Liz

  33. Israel

  Epilogue

  Another Note From the Author

  What I’ve Learned Along The Way

  It Takes a Village!

  Other Books by Leigh Lennon

  About the Author

  A Little Note on Color Blind

  One night my writing bestie and I were discussing books we’d like to write. The idea of a story was born from a muse we both loved. However, when I sat down with this idea of writing an interracial love story, I never waivered. See, this story is near and dear to my heart because I had fallen hard for a man who was not the same race as me. That was twenty-five years ago and though I hope things have changed, it was one reason I felt so strongly about bringing you the story of Iz and Liz. Iz and Liz’s story is not my own, not by a long shot, but it is a book I wanted to write. Because this is a story that has been out of my comfort zone at times, I have worked hard to be respectful of a culture I am not very familiar with. All effort has been made to be true and respectful to all races throughout this book.

  ~Leigh

  Dedication

  This book is written for any person who’s faced bigotry in any form in his or her life. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around racism in any shape in this day and age. I know it exists. It’s my hope this book will create a little more awareness or at least give comfort to those who have dealt with hatred in this way.

  As always—to my mom

  Who continued to teach me that love is love—regardless.

  She often would say, “If you are lucky enough to find love, who has the right to question who you fall in love with?”

  My mom was wise beyond her years and I miss her tremendously.

  About Color Blind

  Liz

  A bond. A connection. Our difference in color didn’t matter; we were made for each other. A love so strong nothing could come between us—until someone did. Faced with an ultimatum, I made the only decision I could but it was never about skin color for me.

  Saying goodbye to him left me in pieces, never to be the same without him.

  Now, many years later, I am face-to-face with the man no one could ever compare to. The feelings I’ve pushed aside for him threaten to boil over. I must fight them. I can’t go back. I need to protect my family, myself.

  Israel

  Here I am, face-to-face with the one that got away, the one that abandoned me, the one no other woman could measure up to. I still need to know why she left. Did she leave me for her family money? Was it my skin color? She left by choice, leaving me broken. I’ve never been the same without her.

  But now that she’s in front of me, I can’t let her get away again. My slightest touch leaves her covered in goose bumps. Liz is using everything she has not to give in. I hope she will. I need her to be mine, to once again be my Buttercup.

  Color Blind Play List

  “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam

  “Room Where It Happens” Hamilton Soundtrack

  “Break Up In the End” by Cole Swindell

  “Greatest Love Story” by Lanco

  “Rooster” by Alice in Chains

  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana

  “Interstate Highway” by Stone Temple Pilots

  “Santeria” by Sublime

  “Chicken Fried” by Zac Brown Band

  “Hot and Cold” by Katy Perry

  “Black Hole Sun” by Sound Garden

  “Play It Again” by Luke Bryan

  Prologue

  16 Years Ago

  Israel

  If there has ever been a love that’s true and pure, it’s present the second I see her angelic face. In her sparkling violet eyes, the joy in her laugh, and in the way she adores me; I know how to love.

  Regrettably for us, the world judges out loud. Even in the turn of the century, in 2002, it’s amazing the people who twist their necks to watch us, claiming witness to our differences, questioning if we’re real.

  I can break it to them; our love is as real as the stars and the moon and tides of the oceans. She’s taken over my heart and we never saw it as a matter of black and white. Quite opposite, with her I see no color on either one of our skins. We’re equal, the same, because our love makes it possible.

  While studying color blindness in—fucking stab me in the eye with a knife—biology class, I understand something I’d never known. A person who is truly colorblind can’t distinguish between certain colors. Normally, the arrangements are yellows and blues or greens and reds. Those with the latter must find Christmas difficult. The point is, for Liz and me, it’s the exact same thing. Whether it’s fucking yellow and blue or the festive colors of Christmas or even black and white, all I see with Liz is love. Color doesn’t matter. It never has, and I hope to fuck it never will.

  16 Years Ago

  Liz

  As I glide my palms across his dark skin, the rough exterior of his unshaven face radiates heat within me. Every part of my skin tingles and every neuron fires when his body rubs alongside mine. He’s it, the one, my forever. Watching him stir as he wets his mouth, biting down on his lip, produces a desire to make love to h
im again. Reaching under the covers, I realize we’re still naked, never having dressed after the long night we spent together. Him in me, our bodies forged into one, as we tasted every little bit of each other.

  His chiseled jaw, the angular curve of it, enhances the beauty I look upon whenever my gaze locks on him. Scrubbing over the scruff of his chin, he leans into me and presses a kiss on my upturned nose, one of my many flaws, though he claims he loves it. Now, with him nuzzling into my neck, I hear him moan, his needs surfacing first thing this morning, evidenced by the erection growing against my bare stomach.

  “Mornin’, Buttercup.” His eyes are already eating me alive, as if I’m truly the candy bar he’s named me after.

  “Iz, we have class and as much as I could lie here all day long—we can’t.”

  “One class, Buttercup, my over-achiever, it’s all we need. No one will know—just us.”

  Reaching for his erection still boring in on me, he continues, “Well, us and my cock.”

  We both erupt into laughter, but his intentions are made clear. I cave when he wraps himself around me, finding the wetness of my core, and I’m a goner. After all, one skipped class isn’t a big deal.

  My skin next to his is a deep contrast, but it doesn’t matter, for our love is and will forever be colorblind.

  1

  Liz

  16 years later

  Adjusting to the beauty of my new view of the L.A. skyline, and the Griffith Observatory in the distance, I straighten my Tom Ford skirt while looking at my stilettos. Drumming my fingers on the glass, I make a mental note to wipe off the prints from the floor-to-ceiling windows before this meeting. It’s not just a meeting but also the meeting. Inspecting my nails, I’m sure my heart can be heard out in the reception area. I’m surprised Candace can’t hear it.

  It’s my very own office. Not Daddy’s, or my evil step-witch’s or ex-husband’s, but mine. Eliza Parker. With my new name and new life, there’s only one person I’d ever want to start over with.

  In this moment, I look up and see that one person when she waltzes into my office. The corners of my mouth crack into a wide smile at the pride I take every time my gaze falls on her. In front of me is my little sister and she’s rambling on, just as nervous as I am over this life-changing event. When I decided on this move, thus also saving her from the step-witch, we both decided my inheritance would be used to reinvent me. Living by our motto, go big or go home, I used my little nest egg Mama left to take control over my life and live part of my dream. Broadcasting may not be an option for me anymore, but entertainment law, working with athletes to ensure they are awarded the best contract, is the second-best thing.

  “Liz,” my sister begins, refusing to call me by my new name, “Langston Jamison will be here in twenty minutes.” Candace is primping in the mirror of a small wardrobe I had installed in my office. The reason for her preparation is due to the sexy sports agent that’ll be arriving soon with my first client. Or should I say potential client—though he’d said I’d be perfect for this super-secret prospect.

  “Candace, he’s twice your age.” It’s all I say to my little sister but she turns and sticks her tongue out at me. You’d never guess she was twenty-one, but with me, it’s always fun and games. It needs to be after all the damage my stepmother has caused, attempting to demean my sister at every turn. I often refer to her as the step-witch but she’s the woman my daddy married barely three months after we buried our mama. To this day, I still call the man who raised me Daddy, not out of love and devotion but simply because it’s a southern thing.

  When I look at Candace, I swear sometimes I’m looking in the mirror of my yesterdays. Staring at her, her smile is warm and dreamy. I have eyes. I know exactly what she’s thinking when she mulls over the handsome Langston Jamison. I still have to do the obligatory warning as the big sister.

  Her scoff is playful as she replies, “If you can reinvent yourself and declare yourself with a new name, I can, too, Liz.” I’d already resigned myself to the fact she’d always call me Liz. “Anyway, I’ve told you repeatedly, call me Candy.” Now she’s grabbed my expensive mascara; I cringe seeing her using it on her eyelashes. I guess my favorite tube is now hers as she continues to babble on. “And he’s your age so that’s only fifteen years.”

  “That’s still three times the acceptable age difference, Candace, and as I told you, I’ll continue to call you Candace if you insist on calling me Liz.” I wink and she flips me off. Acting wounded, I feign fainting at her immature motion.

  Rolling her eyes at me, she continues, “Anyway, Liz, who’s to say five years is the appropriate max age difference? Neal was your age and you saw how well that turned out.” The second the words depart her mouth, she slaps it, already an apology in her eyes.

  I give my sister a dismissive wave and my skin crawls at the name she has just mentioned. My daddy had already removed many of my choices in life by sending the man I loved away. Then, as a bribe, Daddy chose the devil himself as my husband. “True, we all know how that turned out, fucking sadistic bastard.” In speaking of my ex-husband, I always follow it up with my own little nickname I have just for him.

  “Sorry, Liz.” She’s already in my space, holding me, as though with her embrace it could erase the years of bondage I was encased in with him.

  “You’re the child, I’m the adult,” I say, as I always do with the fifteen-year difference separating us, which she hates. Mama died nineteen years ago when Candace was only two. Now, just twenty-one years old, we continue to work through the mental abuse she’s endured at the hands of my daddy and the step-witch.

  It’s the main reason we left South Carolina, one of the many. After Daddy died, the inheritance that Mama left Candace and myself years ago was released to me. He’d of course lorded it over me to do his bidding. With half of the money, I was able to break away from Declan and Associates and create my own law firm that catered to the world of sports. Being that sports broadcasting was my first dream and Daddy ripped that from underneath me, finding my Achilles’ heel—he knew I’d do anything for her.

  Taking Mama’s maiden name and changing my name from the cluster of letters of what the step-witch and the sadistic bastard of my ex-husband called me was a needed change. I’d allow Candace and only one other person in this world to call me Liz. No longer was I Elizabeth Declan, now I’m Eliza Parker.

  A dull ache resides in my stomach at the pain funneled in from those who should have loved me. Certainly, Daddy and my husband should have been my number one supporters but no, they weren’t. I often wondered if Daddy’s new wife’s name at one time was Tremaine, the name of the evil woman Cinderella’s father married.

  I was due a new start, in a new place with new people, just my little sister as part of my old life. I wouldn’t give up Candace for anything in this world. Everything I’ve done, from sacrificing the man I loved to marrying a man I hated and everything in between, has been, in essence, for her.

  I was reminded that I forfeited a life with Iz every Sunday from August until February when he played ball. After all these years, the spasms still rack my muscles at what I gave up…yet I would do it again. Looking at my sister still primping for the sexy sports agent, it reaffirms I’d do it a million times over.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Candace, honey, can you please be out in the reception when your crush arrives?”

  “Sure, sis, that’s no problem. I’ll take every second I can to soak him in.”

  I retort with a tease leaving my lips, “Whore.”

  “Bitch.” My sister chuckles while walking toward the door. Fair enough, I think.

  “Hey, did Mr. Jamison ever say who his client is?” I ask.

  “No, he won’t reveal any of his clients until they’re here. That way there’s less worry of the paparazzi camping out. We’re in the big leagues now, sis. This is fucking L.A., land of dreams.” She walks out, closing the door behind her. I stand, trying to self-soothe the nerves causing my hands to
tremble as panic makes its way to my chest. I’ll not freak out, not when so much is riding on this one little interview. In all actuality, I need this big break. My money will only stretch so far.

  16 years ago

  I can see the string dangling from his words as he speaks, still trying to get his way. I don’t want him to walk me up to my dorm. Hell, I didn’t even want him to fly out here with me. He’s not father of the year, but leaving my little sister with the step-witch causes my anxiety to soar. Daddy is still not signed off on Stanford, choosing for me his alma mater of Harvard. Though, in the long run, I told him I’d major in political science if he’d send me to California.

  I chose Stanford primarily for the pilot program they were offering in sports broadcasting. With a double major in the new program they only guaranteed for four years and political science, I knew I’d have no social life. There was also no chance I’d be attending law school, but a political science degree didn’t mean I’d have to. What my father didn’t know concerning my plans wasn’t going to hurt him. It would help me get Candace away from the step-witch faster. Daddy agreed that upon graduation, I could have Candace full-time, raise her. If he wasn’t hell bent on getting his way with me concerning my life, I’m sure he’d allow me to have her now.