So You Call Yourself A Man. Carl Weber

      

SO YOU CALL YOURSELF A MAN

      SO YOU CALL YOURSELF A MAN

      CARL WEBER

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

      http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      This book is dedicated to my grandmother,

       Sarah Weber,

       who at ninety-two years old is still

       driving a car and showing me

       how to live life to the fullest.

      Love you Nana.

      Acknowledgments

      First off, I have to thank my fans for their support of The Preacher’s Son. Without them, making the New York Times bestseller list would not have been possible. I guess they love drama even more than I thought, because I can’t begin to tell you how humbled I was to walk into stores around the country and have hundreds of people waiting to listen to me read excerpts or to get their books autographed. It is you the fans that keep me writing, and I will continue to do my best and not disappoint you. So keep the letters and e-mails coming.

      Next, I’d like to thank my staff and partners at Urban Entertainment for putting up with me during the long hard road to finishing So You Call Yourself a Man: Roy Glenn, Arvita Glenn, Harold Gilliam, Smiley Guirand, Dwight Keys, Maria Delongoria, Richard Holland, Robilyn Heath, Alisha Yvonne, Kevin Dwyer and Dwayne Dumpson. Guys, I hope you can see where I’m going with this thing of ours because the sky is the limit.

      Many thanks to Valerie Skinner, Linda Williams, Alisha Yvonne, Anita from Sag Harbor (my old babysitter), and Britney from Sag Harbor (my kids’ babysitter); your input on So You Call Yourself a Man was instrumental in helping me put out the best book I could.

      How could I forget my two good friends Karen Thomas, my editor and Marie Brown, my agent? You two have been around since my infancy in this industry and have taught me more about publishing than any twenty people combined. I will always be in your debt and hope that you will always be there to smack me back down to size if my head gets too big. Thanks for all that you’ve done and will do.

      Last but not least, I’d like to thank my wife, Martha. Without her help I would never have finished So You Call Yourself a Man on time. She edited, retyped, criticized, and even wrote some of this book when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Through good times and bad you’ve always been there for me. Thanks so much.

      E-mail me at: [email protected]

       Visit my web site at: Carlweber.net

      Contents

      1. James

      2. Sonny

      3. Brent

      4. James

      5. Sonny

      6. James

      7. Sonny

      8. Brent

      9. James

      10 Sonny

      11. James

      12. Sonny

      13. James

      14. Brent

      15. Sonny

      16. Brent

      17. Sonny

      18. James

      19. Sonny

      20. Brent

      21. Sonny

      22. Brent

      23. James

      24. Brent

      25. James

      26. Brent

      27. James

      28. Sonny

      29. James

      30. Sonny

      31. James

      32. Brent

      33. James

      34. Sonny

      35. Brent

      36. Sonny

      37. Brent

      38. James

      39. Brent

      40. James

      41. Sonny

      42. James

      43. Brent

      44. James

      Epilogue: One year later—Brent

      A Reading Group Guide

      Discussion Questions

      1

      James

      Call me kinky, but there is nothing in the world that turns me on more than hearing a woman scream pleasurable obscenities as I make love to her. And that’s exactly what my lovely wife, Cathy, was doing as I held onto her hips and plunged into her from behind. Our two boys, James Jr. and Michael, were with my mother for the weekend, and Cathy and I were taking advantage of their absence by spending some quality time together. We’d gone out to dinner with my buddy Brent and his fiancée, Alison, taken in a movie, then came home and finished off a bottle of wine before making love on the living room sofa. We were now on our second round in our bedroom, going at it like two lusty college students in heat.

      “I love you, James,” my wife moaned affectionately, clutching the sheets as one climax took over for another.

      “I love you too,” I growled back as my body stiffened and my own pleasure erupted.

      Totally spent, Cathy lay flat on her stomach while I gently collapsed onto her back, gasping for air. After a brief recovery, I slid my sweat-soaked body off hers. She snuggled up next to me and I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her in close, her back to my front. I was so exhausted, I wanted to just close my eyes and let the sedative of sex take me to dreamland. But I couldn’t do that because it was against the rules—rules we’d created almost two years ago to keep our marriage together. Rules that had made this the happiest two years of my life. Somehow, I was going to have to force myself to stay awake at least ten more minutes and talk to her before allowing myself the enjoyment of sleep.

      I kissed her neck, whispering in her ear, “You okay? Do you want me to go down on you or anything?”

      “No, baby. I’m fine just like this. All I want you to do is hold me.” I did as I was told and she snuggled her backside against me. A few seconds later, I could hear her snoring lightly.

      I loved Cathy more than anything in the world. Sure, we had our problems over the years like most couples. Hell, I even thought we were gonna divorce a few years ago, but we worked it out and things had never been better as far as I was concerned. I couldn’t see myself with any other woman. I’d loved her since the day we met in our junior year at Virginia State University. She was my soul mate, and I’d do anything and everything to keep her and my boys safe and out of harm’s way. I kissed her neck again, then dozed off to sleep.

      I couldn’t have been asleep more than five or ten minutes before my cell phone rang. Instinctively, I reached over and picked it up from my night table, glancing at the caller ID before hitting the talk button. The screen read UNAVAILABLE, and my eyes wandered to the clock radio on my night table. One twenty-one a.m. Who the hell is calling me at this time of night? Then it hit me. There was only one person who would call me at this time from an unavailable number—my best friend,