GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (2 page)
Welcome to the world of ‘Grind’ and ‘Grit’ – The Silver Nitrate Series. You have entered Zenith Taylor and Silver Faye’s world. When I sat down to write this book, like the majority of my work, I had a loose outline. That outline has been tossed out the proverbial window. Okay, that is an exaggeration but things deviated greatly from my initial thought of how it would all play out. The characters speak, grow, and do things—
demand
things, actually—and I listened. Each character in this book changed in ways that even
I
didn’t expect. This is not a ‘loose and fast’ set of novels. What I mean by that is, the sexual encounters between two consenting adults in this book, although detailed, do not come about quickly. The pace of the intimacy matches the characters’ intentions.
As stated previously, the characters told me what they wanted, how they wanted it, and when they wanted it. I simply followed the instructions of my muse. That is how I stay true to my intentions and the characters, as well as how I write a story I feel is a good representation of my vision. Romance novels vary greatly as most readers of the genre can attest to. I have a style of writing that some abhor but others adore, i.e., I am quite descriptive. It is just what I do naturally. It’s not forced; it is simply part of my style of writing and I offer not even a fraction of an apology for it. At the end of the day, this is art—and this is how I express my art.
Art is individual and I’m pleased and blessed about that fact, because wouldn’t the world be a boring place if everyone was exactly alike, had the same style of writing, and the exact same subject matters on repeat? You would be simply purchasing the same books over and over and over again, minus a cover change or two.
This leads right into my next point quite perfectly. The two main characters in this series are unconventional. Zenith is a welder in Syracuse, New York. Okay, nothing particularly alarming about that. However, he is also Native Indian and had a rather interesting upbringing. He is a talented drummer, to the point he was regarded as a musical genius, a living, breathing virtuoso. This love of harmony and composition has shaped his entire existence, which inevitably led to him meeting his love interest, Silver Faye.
Silver is also avant-garde. Ironically enough, I had her character ‘figured out’ over a year ago; I just wasn’t certain who I’d pair her with, etc. Here is how this babe came to be…
As an author and visual artist, I am drawn to the human face and form. So, when I see people, I don’t necessarily see ‘beauty’ or ‘homeliness’; I see the slightly hooked curve of their nose, the deep, recessed cleft in their chin, and the off-black beauty mark on their right earlobe. I was looking at some photos online, and came upon a model that made me pause. So much so, I saved her picture and gave her a ‘temporary name’, knowing I’d use her image in some way as a heroine. I didn’t think anything else of it until I saw this same model again, a bit later, in a totally different photo shoot, and took it as a sign that it was time to tell her story; actually, it was overdue.
Though I speak from the male voice predominately in my work (those of you new to me may find this surprising since I’m a woman and write in the romance genre), Silver is a character I enjoyed immensely. I believe her flawed, jaded self was paired with just enough self-reflection, sexiness, intellect, and reality to make her loveable—and for the reader, hopefully, to understand her vantage point.
What we have here are two people who are mirroring one another, reflecting their souls in each other and, rather than see their own likeness, they see the person they love, and discover they are one and the same. Zenith represents a high point they need to reach, a peak that has eluded them for years. Silver represents self-reflection and growth, and then desire for wealth. Not financial wealth, but holistic and spiritual prosperity. For in order to heal, one must look at oneself and ask the hard questions: “Why did I say that to this person?”, “Why am I angry?”, “Why do I feel jealousy, loneliness, etc.?” These two people have endured some of the heartbreak that many of us hope to never experience, while others can identify with it all too well.
So, without further ado, I invite you inside “The Silver Nitrate Series’ to meet and come to know, and hopefully fall in love with, Zenith and Silver. They have a story to tell. Are you ready to be grind and dined? Well then, let’s begin…
Zenith – The highest point reached by a celestial or other object. The strongest or most successful period of time. The highest point reached in the sky by the sun, moon, etc. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)
That’s my name. My full name is Zenith Hiawatha Taylor, my middle name is my grandfather’s first name. I was given an unusual first name and I’ve had, at times, an unusual life to match.
I’ve pretty much always done what I wanted to do, and how I wanted to do it. It wasn’t an effort; it was just who I was, who I am. I didn’t give a shit what other people said and did; I was just going to be me, no matter what. Either love me or hate me, it made me not one bit of difference. Let’s take high school, for instance. When everyone else was trying to blend in, I was satisfied that I stood out. I didn’t go overboard with socializing, my grades were fairly good, and I was just naturally low-key.
The one thing that would get me open, get me talking and in my element was music. My Mawmaw, as a kid I could never say ‘grandma’ right so that nickname stuck. Anyway back on point, she would tell me that I’d bounce around and kick and move in my mother’s stomach if some melody began to play. They could count on it, would wait for me to do it to provide a source of entertainment for the entire family.
So, I was performing before I was even born, it seems. I grew up around music, but not the kind you hear on the radio or in the clubs, or even at your local Christian church. See, I’m Iroquois. Many people don’t understand who Iroquois people are. Sure, they know I’m Indian, Native American, however you wish to coin it, but they don’t understand that the word, ‘Iroquois’, actually comprises more than one tribe. Matter of fact, the original usage was to describe a language more so than a people. So please just understand this—when someone tells you that they’re Iroquois, they are one of six different tribes, possibly even a mixture of two or three.
I know my history, though at times I took it for granted. I had wisdom and thriving memories forming and residing right under my own roof. See, my grandparents raised me, and they played music, danced to music, but most importantly, created music—but it wasn’t any of the stuff my friends were bumpin’. It was the music of our people. I learned to appreciate that music because the backbone of those harmonies was, and still is, the drum. The drum is like a heartbeat. It keeps the entire song together, keeps it alive. It gives the people something to move their feet to.
And it was in my blood to give the people what they want, in the form of percussion.
My Paw played the drums since he was a little boy. In turn, I was blessed with the same gift. Let’s look back at high school for a minute though. See, I didn’t bring that up for no reason. That was a turning point for me. One day in my freshman year in high school, I saw a flyer plastered on this big board where the students were allowed to pin up stuff, you know, for parties we were having, cars we might be selling, bake sales, things like that. This popular kid named Javier put up a flyer, an advertisement basically, that he was looking for a drummer for his band.
Everyone knew Javier, and that he could sing his ass off. He had been on T.V. and everything. He could do that voice mimicking shit, you know, when people can make themselves sound like just about anyone. It is amazing what the human body can do, and in Javier’s case, his voice was a rare instrument that left you stunned. If you wanted to hear some Frank Sinatra, he could sound just like him. If you wanted to hear R. Kelly, boom! Luther Vandross, Miguel, Drake, didn’t matter the style, the sound, the year of popularity… Javier had it covered.
I’d never seen anyone be able to do that in all my life, and it left me wowed. His natural voice was even better… Javier has the type of skill that you see once in a lifetime; he is just that good. While his talent was out on Front Street, though, I was still in the closet.
I’d been playing drums since I was a little kid, had my first drum kit when I was six, but never really performed in front of people, except for my family and some of the elders now and again. I wasn’t sure why, and at that point, I began to question it. So, I said to myself, ‘Why the hell not? I’m going to try out for his band… Let’s see what happens.’ The rest was history. What ended up with me being that ‘tall Indian dude who dresses different and looks nonchalant and uncaring about the world’ had sent me catapulting into the ‘cool kids’ crowd. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t necessarily want it either; it just happened.
All I wanted to do was play the drums, and get high off my own music. People bring energy—so making people dance and feel good fueled me. I became instantly addicted to the reaction; not the fame, none of that, but the way I could actually move and control people’s level of delight. That combination of Javier’s voice along with my playing … well, something real special happened. His band’s entire vibe changed. The music got richer, stronger… ‘Pure Grit’ finally had a heartbeat.
We began to get a lot of attention, not just at our high school, but all over Syracuse. We were offered paying gigs, and our lives changed forever. I couldn’t imagine this sort of local success with anyone else. Javier and I are like brothers. When he has a problem, he comes to me. When I have a problem, I go to him, too. We’ve been through everything together, and no matter what happens, nothing could tear us apart. Or so I thought…
That was the least of my problems, though. A lot has happened in my life, but I was determined to make it, and I’m also a realist. You can love something, but if the shit isn’t keeping your lights on, you better take your ass to school or get a trade. So, that’s what I did.
I decided to get trained to become a welder. I really enjoyed it; so much so, I envisioned myself retiring from it and relaxing once I got older. You know, maybe taking some vacations to Brazil. Hell, even Japan. I always wanted to go to Japan. Anyway, welding pays well, and yeah, it’s hard work, too, but if you can do it, and do it well, you’ll always have employment. Stability has always been important to me, finding something that would be consistent… always there. And welding provides that.
My hands have been a part of everything from playground sets to skyscrapers. There is power in that, you know? There’s something about driving over a bridge and knowing you touched some of the materials on it, that you helped create that damn thing…you and your two hands. Music doesn’t always pay the bills, but welding does. See, welding is reliable, but music is flighty. You never know when your next gig will be, and you never know who is going to try and stiff you come payday. With welding, I can create, and I can hide, too. See, I work at my seat independently, and that’s how I like it. With music, there are hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, but I disappear amongst them too, just differently I guess. Maybe that’s been my problem… If I can’t create something that makes the bad shit go away, then
I
go away. It’s got to be either me or the shit; one of us has to go.
But sometimes, something happens, and you don’t
want
to vanish. Yeah, you want to stay because something, or someone, is there, and you want to see them clearly, and you want them to see you clearly, too. But we can get distracted, and things can get confusing.
You see, with this music life, you get introduced to all sorts of people and New York brings in people from all across the world. They come to find jobs, to find stardom… and then there are those that are just visitors. When they arrive, they want to hear music, eat different foods, see the Statue of Liberty, stopover to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, walk down Fifth Avenue…have a good ass time and do all the things tourists love to do here. And I’m one of the people that helps make that happen. Anyway, when I hit my twenties, the notoriety at times became overwhelming. There were perks of course, too… and one of my favorite benefits was women…