Pre-Order Breathe: New urban/ hip-hop, African-American coming out
story

The HOTTEST book of 2005 is coming your way soon!

BREATHE, the debut novel by Blair R. Poole, will be hitting the
marketplace on November 1, 2005. Pre-Order your copy now and
receive special bonuses. Check out Blair's site at:
http://www.blair-robert.com for details. And don't forget to drop
Blair a line at author@...

Also, as a thank you for your continued support of BREATHE, I'd like
to share an excerpt with you from the book. Enjoy!

Peace & Much Love




CHAPTER 1
8:17 p.m. on a cold, Sunday evening in mid-January. A fierce winter
breeze blew across the city streets of Philadelphia. A little more
than eight inches of snow packed the ground. The streets were
desolate except for the city workers covering the ground with rock
salt. The waxing, silvery moon shined in the night sky.
Despite the inclement weather, a boisterous birthday party ensued on
51st and Spruce Street , disturbing the night's calm. Inside the
West Philadelphia residence, dozens of high school teenagers
populated the first floor family room and living room, dancing and
socializing as Jadakiss's newest joint blasted through the speakers.
DJ Q, who was stationed in the living room, spun fiercely in the
corner. The powerful bass and hip-hop beats reverberated from the
hardwood floor on up, shaking the floor, shaking the walls. Everyone
was partying hard, having a good time.
On the left side of the living room, a few females stood, talking,
pointing, and smiling at a handsome caramel-colored brutha, dancing
solo. This young man, who was exhibiting his superior dancing skills
and outdoing everyone on the dance floor, was Nafiq Johnson-- the
seventeen year-old birthday boy. He was an intelligent brutha,
standing 6'3" with a strong athletic build. His powerful physique
was a result of his demanding workout regimen, a baseline
requirement of his high school basketball team, for which he had
been the starting shooting guard for three years. His intellectual
capacity was attributed to his inherent ability, his genes, and his
family upbringing. Nafiq sported intricately styled cornrows, an
Allen Iverson Sixers' jersey, and low-hanging, baggy designer jeans
with Timbs. Like many Philly bruthas of his generation, he projected
a youthful, thuggish masculinity. He was the quintessential hip-hop
teenager.
From the kitchen doorway, Gwendolyn and Reginald Johnson stood,
observing the party and proudly smiling at their son. Gwendolyn was
an attractive, distinguished-looking woman in her late 40s. Her
beautiful auburn hair hung to her shoulders and complimented her
honeysuckle skin. As a seasoned legal secretary at one of Philly's
most prestigious firms and an active member of the city's largest
African Methodist Episcopal (AME) church, she assumed an air of
authority and respect.
Reginald Johnson, a tall, stout, and handsome man also in his late
40s, was typically a reserved guy although he did have his moments.
He wore a lightly trimmed beard, which created a slight shade
against his dark skin, giving him a middle-aged sexiness. As a young
man, he was a star tight end at Cheyney University and, later, an
officer in the Navy SEALs. Now, he was the sole proprietor of Kool
Kutz barbershop in Southwest Philly-- going strong for nearly 20
years. Reginald was also active in the community. He routinely
volunteered at the city's homeless shelters, and coached
recreational football for 5th and 6th graders. Together, Reginald
and Gwendolyn projected a uniquely Black yin-yang as they
affectionately held each other, cheering Nafiq on.
After showing off his skills, Nafiq danced up to Simone, a very
pretty and voluptuous female who was one of Nafiq's classmates at
Central High School . Like Nafiq, she was among the most attractive
and sought after individuals there. She was a star sprinter on the
track team, and her grades placed her in the top five of her class.
Simone danced close to Nafiq, enjoying herself immensely. He
appeared to be enjoying himself as well. Throughout the room,
envious eyes lingered on the two as they danced. Nafiq and Simone
ignored their peers' jealously, and continued to dance until DJ Q
mixed into another song.
"I'll be back in a sec," Nafiq said.
"Where are you going? We just started dancing," huffed Simone.
"Just chill. I'll be right back."
Nafiq escaped the crowd, and walked into the hallway, leaving Simone
in the middle of the dance floor. She folded her arms, disappointed.
In the hallway, Nafiq took a seat on the hardwood stairs, wiping
sweat from his forehead. He sat placidly, looking out into the
crowd; his ____expression an enigma. As he looked into the crowd, his
sister, Kiara, an alluringly beautiful and high-spirited woman,
strolled up to him. Only twenty-six years old, this almond-colored
sista was a diamond; a down-to-earth sweetheart with talent and
intelligence. After graduating summa cum laude with a degree in
fashion design from the Rhode Island School of Design, she decided
to take the entrepreneurial route, like her father, and open up her
own clothing boutique in the city.
"Fiq, why are you sitting? You're supposed to be
celebrating," Kiara said, excited.
She grabbed Nafiq's hand, but he resisted. His face remained placid,
his feelings a mystery.
"Sis, I'll be there," Nafiq said.
Nafiq's resistance stunned Kiara. She looked at him closely, trying
to figure out what was on her brother's mind.
"Are you all right? Did something happen out there?"
"Naw, I'm cool."
Kiara exhibited some skepticism. She knew her little brother.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, her eyebrow arching.
"Kiara, I'm fine. I'll be there. Aight?" Nafiq said in a mildly
irritated tone.
"All right," Kiara said as she shrugged her shoulders and walked
away. But before she completely entered the living room, she
stopped, and turned around, looking at Nafiq. He seemed troubled,
and Kiara knew it. Since they were children, she could always sense
when something wasn't right with him, especially when others failed
to detect a problem. Over the past few months, she felt that Nafiq
had been acting distant. She constantly asked him if something were
bothering him, but he ensured her that nothing was wrong. "Nothing!"
Kiara frowned to herself, deciding to leave her brother alone. She
didn't want to anger or annoy Nafiq by pressing him, especially on
his birthday. She turned back around, returning to the living room.
Meanwhile, Nafiq stayed on the steps, staring into the living room.
He watched his male and female peers dance and flirt with each
other. He saw one couple kiss. Another couple held hands in the
corner as they bopped to the music happily. This bothered Nafiq
deeply. He longed for the same affection, for the same feelings of
elation and joy. He yearned for that special connection with
someone. He longed to freely express himself.
Sadness quickly grew on Nafiq's face. Once he couldn't stomach these
sights of affection anymore, he rose from the stairs, quickly
concealing his emotions, and walked into the living room.
As Nafiq entered the living room, Gwendolyn took his arm and
escorted him to the glass table where his elaborate birthday cake
sat.
"It's time to sing `Happy Birthday,'" his mother informed.
Nafiq stood at the table. Everyone gathered around the luscious,
sugar-laden cake, and broke into a soulful rendition of "Happy
Birthday." Kiara finished the song with a few sultry ad-libs. (Yes,
she also had a dynamic voice.)
Nafiq leaned over the cake, tightly closing his eyes. He silently
made a wish, and opened up his eyes, the warm glow of the candles
illuminating his face. He blew out the candles, and everyone
clapped. A few people whistled and cheered. His closest friends and
a couple flirtatious girls wished him a "Happy Birthday." He
graciously nodded, and thanked them.
The crowd moved in closer as Gwendolyn handed Nafiq the knife to cut
the cake. He distributed the cake, and everyone began to eat.
Nafiq picked up his plastic plate, and took a bite of his cake. The
cake tasted gourmet. Hypnotizingly sweet. But Nafiq was neither
impressed nor satisfied. To him, it was just another cake. Another
party and birthday. Another damn day.
The Johnson family stood next to him, eating and enjoying the cake.
"Happy Birthday," Gwendolyn and Reginald said almost simultaneously.
"Thanks, Mom. Dad," Nafiq responded.
Nafiq's only brother, Marcus Johnson, clean-cut and studious, patted
Nafiq on the back. The 21-year-old college senior wore a University
of Pennsylvania Wharton School sweater with sandy-brown khakis.
Marcus wasn't as tall as Nafiq (he was only 5'11"), but he was just
as phine.
"Happy Birthday, man," Marcus said.
"Thanks."
Alonzo Miller, Kiara's boyfriend of three years, wished him "Happy
Birthday," and handed him three $100 bills. Nafiq smiled, and
stuffed the cash into his pocket.
"Thanks, Zo," said Nafiq.
Alonzo smiled, and nodded.
Alonzo, who was on the cusp of thirty years of age, was a vain and
pretentious individual. He always dressed to perfection in designer
clothes (Armani attire being his preference), and was always
meticulously groomed. He was distinguished by his nicely styled
dreadlocks, which fell to the middle of his back. He also routinely
bragged about his surplus of cash and his high-paying A&R job at
Philly's most reputable record company, Triple-P Records, Inc. A
Morehouse graduate and a M.B.A. recipient from Temple University 's
graduate business program, Alonzo believed he was destined for
unsurpassed greatness.
Kiara, who stood with Alonzo's arm around her waist, broke away from
him and gave Nafiq a big hug.
"Happy Birthday. I love you," said Kiara.
"Thanks. Love you, too," responded Nafiq as he kissed his sister on
the cheek.
Alonzo interrupted the family love by tapping Nafiq on the shoulder
and nodding his head in the direction of someone across the room.
Nafiq turned his head, and noticed Simone standing by herself. Other
guys were clearly staring at her, debating whether or not to
approach her, but her eyes were fastened on Nafiq.
"You better go get yours," Marcus insisted.
But before Nafiq could step away, Simone walked up to him, smiling.
She reached out her right hand.
"It's time for that birthday dance. I made a special request," said
Simone.
The Johnson family looked impressed by Simone's confidence and
forwardness, especially Gwendolyn. Not just any female was good
enough for her son. She and Reginald had worked too hard and
struggled too long for any of their children to just date anybody,
to just marry anybody, and to just socialize with anybody. Yeah,
Reginald and Gwendolyn grew up poor, and still resided in a lower
middle-class African-American community, but both believed that each
generation is supposed to improve. With "Elevate" serving as their
mantra, they were determined to help their children take it to the
next level.
Nafiq smiled, and took Simone's hand. They walked to the middle of
the dance floor. DJ Q expertly mixed from an up-tempo song into a
slow jam. The lights dimmed. As Nafiq and Simone began to dance, the
crowd slowly closed in, enveloping them.

Do you want to read more? Do you want to see how the story unfolds?
Then, Pre-Order the HOTTEST book of 2005 today! And it doesn't stop
there! The follow-up to Breathe will be available in Spring 2006.