Broken Petals, Book 2
Women’s Fiction
Date Published: 09-02-2024
Publisher: Running Wild Press
Four girlfriends take a trip around the world after drunkenly taking
ancestry tests during a wine-filled girl’s night that changes the trajectory
of their lives.
EXCERPT
Chapter 1
It’s Wine O’clock
Not having to spend a Friday night in the summer with a dead body felt unreal. It’s almost
unheard of as a Chief Forensic Pathologist. We were long overdue for a girl’s night. So, I invited
my best friends; Brooklyn Rahimi, Tammy Avalos, and Lorraine Collins. It was also the perfect
time to unveil my renovated wine cellar. A stress-free night of conversation and dancing with my
girls was music to my ears. The wall of wine is only a cherry on top.
Brooklyn’s outfit gave me an eyegasm. She loved fashion as much as I did. We’ve fought
over fashion and bonded over it many times. Tammy is a free spirit. Her dating card has been full
since her divorce. It’s a miracle she has time to hang out with us. Poor Lorraine hates it. She’s
always nagging Tammy to settle down. But, everyone isn’t like her. She’s a true romantic. Even
after all the drama with her daughter’s father. Anyone else would’ve given up on love. But
Lorraine’s fire for love is as red as her hair.
We were all kid-free for the night. Well, all of us except Tammy. She hates to admit she’s
the grandma of the group, or as she calls it, Gigi. While the fathers are on daddy duty, we were
going to do our best to challenge our almost forty-year-older livers to a duel. Except poor
Tammy. Her liver is going on fifty. But, she can hang with the best of them.
When the girls arrived, I gave them each a bouquet of my favorite flowers—red roses. I
knew they’d come locked and loaded with gifts to break in the wine cellar, and they didn’t
disappoint. Lorraine gifted me six large candles. Tammy gifted me a dozen bottles of wine to
help stock my wine cellar, and Brooklyn gifted me the most beautiful white marble tabletop wine
opener with a gold handle. It even had my name engraved in gold on the base–Iris Reid. That’s
what I love about my girls. They’re classy and thoughtful in every way.
After years of my basement being a disaster area, I buckled down and hired a contractor
and a decorator from Highsea. I told them I wanted it to look like it jumped right out of a page of
a design magazine, and into my home. They exceeded my expectations. The decorator went with
a modern white and silver color scheme to match the rest of my home.
Four white faux leather chairs with silver arm accents sat in a circle in the center of the
room. Small silver tables were placed between each chair. A silver abstract chandelier with
bright white lights hung over the circle of chairs. The decorator described the chandelier as
unique. I called it chaos. But what did I know?
Whenever we got together, the first few minutes of conversation were the same as the
chandelier; chaotic. We’re all so eager to catch up; we usually end up talking over each other
combined with hugs and kisses. We pretty much play Double Dutch and jump into the
conversation when we can.
“Iris, I really hate the idea of you living in this big beautiful house alone.” Lorraine
shrugged, eyeballing every inch of the house within her peripheral as if it were her first time
visiting. But she remained within her wheelhouse. Lorraine wouldn’t be Lorraine if she didn’t
urge us to attach ourselves to a man in order to have a happier life. As if men were the be all and
end all.
I knew where she was going with her comment. Heck, we all knew where she was going
with it. “I don’t live alone,” I explained with a smile wide enough to show all my pearly whites.
“I have my son.”
“That’s different, and he’s a teenager now. He’s going to have his own life with sports
and friends.” Lorraine glanced at each of us before mentioning my ex-boyfriend and father of my
child–Rodney. The same man who’d break out in hives whenever I’d mention marriage. It’s like
he was allergic to the very thought of commitment. I guess that’s asking for too much in his eyes.
“You should get back with Rodney. You guys co-parent so well. It’s a shame you aren’t
together.”
“I want love. I welcome love. But I need more than love right now. I need to find
myself.” I waved my hands to move on from the conversation all while silently wishing and
praying this would be the one and only time she’d bring him up. “That’s not what this night is
about.”
“Yeah, let it go,” Tammy yelled. “Alexa, play Buy me a Drink by T-Pain.” She broke out
her best dance moves, as she glided across the room, twisted, turned, and dropped it low, all with
a carefree smile.
“Ooh, that’s my song.” I ran over to dance with Tammy. Neither of us had any rhythm to
save our lives. But we didn’t care. We were going to have a good time if it killed us. Plus, as
long as we danced, Lorraine wasn’t preaching.
“Let me show you how it’s done.” Brooklyn raced over with a full glass of wine in hand.
Thankfully I had marble floors. It’s easier to clean because the girls are always wasting good
wine. “You have to swing your hips like this.” She moved like a sexy snake. “Yeah Iris, you got
it. You got it.”
“What about me?” Lorraine asked, rolling her body to the beat.
“It’s a little nineties, but it’s giving what you’re trying to give.” We all laughed and
danced until the song faded.
Whenever I spent time with the girls they had a way of helping me get out of my funk
from a long week from performing back to back autopsies. Genuine friends are not overrated.
My girls are the best. Though, I could be biased from my deep affection for them.
After Brooklyn finally let Tammy and Lorraine know about her having Huntington’s
disease, it allowed us to bond in unimaginable ways. Now seven years later we were a family—
sisters, if you must. It’s true what they say. Friends are the family you choose.
I can depend on the girls in every capacity of my life. They’re a shoulder to lean on,
counselors, and even babysitters before Junior began throwing fits about being old enough to be
on his own for a few hours. There’s something about teen years. The moment kids turn into
teenagers they want to do everything on their own in their own way.
“You guys have no idea how much I needed this,” I sighed, fanning myself with a linen
napkin. “I had to perform an autopsy on a ten-year-old girl a couple days ago. I hate it whenever
a child lands on my table. I can’t escape the visions of them laying there lifeless. It consumes
me. The shit is unnatural.”
“What happened to her?” Tammy asked with wide eyes.
“I’ll share this one time, and only because I brought it up and you’re all my sisters,” I
explained. I made sure the girls knew why I never talked about my cases years ago. I take my
position seriously. It’s a private matter for families that should be handled with respect in every
way possible. It feels like gossip to discuss their cases in casual conversations, so I try to avoid it
at all costs. But I couldn’t stop thinking about a recent case. It clinged on me like a wet bathing
suit on a windy day at the beach. “A thirteen-year-old girl died from asphyxia due to an opioid
overdose.” I gulped my wine and poured another glass right away. “When I explained my
findings to her parents they told me how badly the other kids bullied her. When she was twoyears-old, she grabbed a pot of boiling water from the stove and burned herself pretty badly. She
had scarring on the right side of her face, shoulder, arm, and hand. The kids had been taunting
her for years. I mean, who could endure eleven years of constant bullying and not develop
mental and emotional issues?”
“I know I couldn’t.” Brooklyn raised her hand. “Some kids are savages.”
“It starts at home,” Tammy said, pointing matter-of-factly with a nod.
“Why are the parents always to blame?” Lorraine butted in. “Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents
didn’t teach him to eat humans. And still he indulged on sautéed heads, fingers, and toes like a
delicatessen.”
“You don’t know what his parents taught him,” I interjected.
“I stand corrected, I would hope his parents didn’t teach him to eat human flesh,”
Lorraine giggled.
“Why do you always go so damn dark?” Tammy asked Lorraine with scrunched
eyebrows.
“Yeah, and please don’t get started with the black-eyed children nonsense tonight,”
Brooklyn gave her two cents while polishing off another glass of wine. “I can’t remember a time
I’ve known you and you haven’t talked about the black-eyed children conspiracy theories.”
“Fine, I won’t talk about it.” Lorraine shrugged. “But don’t come crying to me when one
of those freaky ass kids ends up in the backseat of your cars.”
“We won’t,” the three of us replied simultaneously with stomach curdling laughs.
Brooklyn walked over to the wall to pull a bottle of Red Opus One. Rodney gifted me a
six-bottle wooden case to commemorate my wine cellar the day of the big reveal with the interior
designer. The man had taste and he wasn’t stingy with his money. I’ll give him that much.
“Seriously, you need to do better with your mental breaks, Iris. It’s been four years since you’ve
taken a vacation.”
“Five years,” I corrected her.
“Damn,” Tammy squealed, gulping the last of her wine to make room for a glass of Opus
One. “Lorraine can cry all she wants. But when it’s time for my vacation, I don’t care what she
says. Mental health is self-care, and vacations fall under that umbrella. I need my time away on a
tropical island every summer like clockwork to function in life.”
“That’s Lorraine’s problem. She thinks of herself as the sensible one in the group.
Everything has to make sense, and if you don’t understand it or see it her way, she’ll make you
see it,” I explained.
“First, Iris, I’ll bet that’s why you don’t have a man.” Lorraine pointed at me. “You don’t
make time for one. You can’t be happy living alone without having a good man to come home to
talk about your day and make love to at the end of the night. Secondly, I am the sensible one. I
keep all you in order in a respectable way. Otherwise, you’d self-destruct.” She hurriedly looked
away the moment the words left her mouth.
“Yeah, you better look away,” Tammy chastised. “You of all people know better than to
equate happiness to having a man. Michael put you through pure hell, and made you a single
mother because you were so hell-bent on making that messy relationship work when you knew
you should’ve walked away a long time ago before you had a child with him,” she explained.
“And lastly, don’t flatter yourself. We are intelligent and capable women. We don’t need a
babysitter. We keep ourselves in order.”
“Screw you, I love my daughter,” Lorraine yelped, marching across the room. “Violet is
the best thing that came out of that tumultuous situationship. Talk about Michael all you want. I
don’t care about him. But leave Violet out of it.”
Michael was Lorraine’s worst decision whether she wanted to admit it or not. The
moment he came into her life, her world turned upside down, and every time she thought it
would get better, he flipped it again. But I can relate to Lorraine in that way because all she
wanted from Michael was a commitment he was never willing to give. Rodney was the same in
that regard. So, I know how it feels to hold on to a dream with someone who’s not capable of
giving you what you need and desire in a partner.
“Hey, hey, hey, ladies,” I interrupted before it turned into a full on catfight. “Violet is an
amazing little girl. I love her with all my heart. Tammy deserves a vacation. She works hard.” I
held my glass in the air. “Here’s to our amazing kids and self-care.”
“Here, here.” We toasted with a big sigh of love. Blood relation doesn’t negate the fact
that we were sisters. We’re always together. We uplift each other. Sure, there’s drama, but we
resolve it in love, and most of all, we chose each other.
Tammy eased over to hug Lorraine. She accepted with no qualms. At the end of the day,
they loved each other. Siblings fight every now and again, then come back together with resolve
and move on like it never happened. The best thing about us is we don’t sweep things under the
rug. We face it and work through it.
“We should take a girl’s trip. If nothing else, we could do it in the name of love for poor old
overworked Iris.” Tammy snapped her fingers. “I have an idea. You three should come with me
to La Isleta Sanguinea. You have three months to plan and get your affairs in order. That’s more
than enough time.”
“It may be three months in advance, but I can’t take off. My work is too important,” I
explained.
“We know you’re an important person, Iris. But your mental health trumps all. If you’re
carted off to a padded white room in a straitjacket, they’ll replace you within a couple of days.”
Brooklyn touched my arm. “At least give it some thought before you decline. It’s March, you
have time to get your affairs in order.”
“Well, I can’t go. One of us should be at the office.” Lorraine crossed her legs in a huff.
“We hired people who are more than capable of running the business without us having
to micromanage them. You’re as bad as Iris.”
“I’ll think about it,” I assured her.
“While you’re thinking about vacation nonsense, I have something else for us to do,”
Lorraine explained with jazz fingers. “Iris, remember when you said you needed more than love?
That you needed to find yourself? Well, I have the perfect remedy for that.” She took four boxes
out of a shopping bag. “I thought it would be cool if we took Ancestry tests to discover some
interesting facts about our family history.”
“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to take one of those. Give me that.” Tammy snatched one of
the boxes from Lorraine to examine it.
“No way, I’m adopted. It was hard enough to build a relationship with my birth father.
Adding more to that makes my head dizzy.” Brooklyn winced.
“Yeah, and I’ve never met or known any blood related family outside of my parents,” I
explained. “No extended family ever called, came for visits, sent letters or anything. I used to
wonder why. I even built up the courage to ask my mom once. But I left it alone when she
became defensive and evasive. When they died in a car wreck, I figured I may as well leave it
alone. It’s a can of worms I don’t want to open. I lost them when I was twenty-two years old. I’m
with Brooklyn on this one. I’ll pass.” I waved Lorraine away.
“So you mean to tell me you aren’t the least bit curious?” Lorraine asked with a
mischievous look plastered on her face.
“I’m thirty-seven-years-old. I got over my curiosity a long time ago,” I said, pouring a
glass of wine to wash away the bad taste in my mouth from talking about this sore subject. I’ve
gone through all the stages–curiosity, anger, sadness, and now acceptance.
“How could you say that? You can’t know who you are as a person if you don’t know
where you come from.” Lorraine smoothed her yellow silk skirt. She’d gone the Ronald
McDonald route.
“It’s pointless,” I replied. “I’m too old to care now. What kind of authentic relationship
could I have with them?”
Tammy ripped the box open and quickly swabbed her mouth. “Here’s to finding a rich
uncle with no kids.”
“I can’t deal,” I chuckled with my hand covering my mouth.
It wasn’t often Tammy butted into conversations, but she had perfect timing when she
felt things were getting too heavy. Oh how I wished she had the same timing when she and
Lorraine were having one of their many squabbles.
Lorraine ripped open her box and swabbed her mouth. “Two down and two to go.”
“Forget it, I’m not doing it.” Brooklyn sat the box on the table and leaned back in her
chair with her arms folded over her chest in a huff. I could see the confusion in her eyes because
I shared the same confusion.
“What’s that look?” I asked Brooklyn.
“I want to know but I don’t want to know,” she explained.
“I get it and I’m with you. I’m not doing it either.” I followed Brooklyn’s lead,
stubbornly folding my arms over my chest.
“You two are the main ones who should take the tests. Brooklyn, you’re adopted. You’ve
met your father, and you two have created a pretty good relationship. Think about the rest of
your family that’s out there,” Tammy explained. “Iris, you sat there and told us a long story
about how you always wanted to know your family but your mom was a brick wall. Lorraine
may get on my nerves, but she’s right this time. Neither of you will ever know who you are until
you know where you come from. Now swab your damn mouths.” She held two boxes in front of
us with the mom-eyes, practically reducing us to a couple of bratty teenagers.
“Come on, Iris,” Brooklyn said. “We may as well do it to shut them up.” She took the
boxes from Tammy and passed one to me.
I pushed it away, sticking to my guns. She may have folded, but I stood strong on my
decision. “I know I have family out there. But those people may not want anything to do with
me. I’m not ready for that kind of rejection. I have all the family I need right here with you guys.
Why fix something that isn’t broken?”
“You’re not going to like me after I say this,” Tammy spoke frankly.
“Then don’t say it.” I shoved my hair away from my face. The room suddenly became
hot. Nothing another glass of wine couldn’t fix.
Down the hatch.
“You’re an accomplished woman. You help bring closure to family and friends. Now add
being a single mother to the mix. Yes, Rodney is active in your son’s life, but Junior lives with
you full-time. That is a job in itself. Now sprinkle how much you help Brooklyn when it comes
to her having Huntington’s disease into the mix.” She walked over to put her arm around
Brooklyn’s shoulders. “You’re superwoman, but it’s time for you to put all your focus into
yourself. This has the potential to change your life in a good way.” She shook the box. “A person
could never have enough family and love in their life. Yes, we’re friends who’ve become family.
But, these people will be your blood family–your tribe. Take the test.”
“You don’t know if this tribe wants me in their life, much less to grow to love me.”
“You don’t know either,” Tammy replied.
“There’s one thing you got wrong,” I said.
Tammy asked, “What is that?”
“You tell me, since you know it all.” The temperature in the room rose about ten degrees.
Perhaps I could blame it on the wine. We’d had enough.
“You’ve mastered wearing your hard shell. But I know you, and I’ll bet my life you have
questions about your past and your family. All it takes is a simple swab. Stop being a baby, and
do it.” She ripped the box open and held the swab to my face.
I stuck to my guns and pushed it away.
“Let’s say your family doesn’t accept you. That’ll be their loss. But the three of us will be
here for you in any way you need. Now swab your mouth.” This time she opened the box and put
the swab in my hand.
My back was against the wall, and all eyes were on me. They’ll say I’m the difficult one
if I don’t do it. Peer pressure should not exist in friendships of middle-aged women. “Fine, but if
this blows up in my face, I’ll be sending you my therapy bill.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll pay for it and drive you to your sessions. Then I’ll take you
out for a nice dinner and drinks afterwards.” Tammy smiled.
“Fine.” I swabbed and shoved the stick inside the plastic container while Tammy filled
out my information on the paperwork.
Brooklyn held my hand with an enduring smile. If no one else understood my plight, I
know she did. Heck, Brooklyn more than understood. We had been in our dorm room at
Pinemoor State College writing essays when a knock on the door interrupted us. It was a police
officer. The moment the words rolled off his tongue about the death of my parents I instantly
morphed into a zombie. Brooklyn, being the kind-hearted person she is, took control. She and
her mother made sure my parents had a beautiful home going. Brooklyn rallied our friends to
make sure I maintained my perfect GPA. She even made sure I ate and took care of my personal
hygiene. So when Brooklyn went through a difficult time with her illness, I happily dropped
everything to be there for her. It’s the least I could do. We’d been by each other’s side for many
life-changing milestones while in college. She was nineteen when she learned she had
Huntington’s disease. I was twenty-two when my parents died in a car accident. We were each
other’s rock. So, I had no doubt that whatever came of this, she’d be there for me just as she
always had.
“I’m mailing these out first thing in the morning.” Lorraine made the boxes dance as she
packed them back inside the bag. “This is so exciting.”
I rolled my eyes and began cleaning up the empty wine bottles. “You three know the
routine. Whenever there are two or more bottles empty, find a bed for the remedy.”
Tammy walked over to me with puppy dog eyes. “I hope you’re not upset with me. I
know I can be a bit pushy sometimes. But I don’t want you to have any more questions about
your family. It’s time to face it once and for all.”
“I’m not upset with you. But you need to have some consideration of how this could
affect me. I’m not good with rejection, and I have a sneaky suspicion that’s exactly what’s going
to happen if I contact them.” I went on to explain, “Growing up, I thought it was normal not to
have family outside of my mom and dad. But as I got older and heard my friends go on and on
about their cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and so on, I knew there was something wrong.
But, I could never get an honest answer from my parents until they totally shut the conversation
down once and for all. When they died in the car accident, I took that as a sign to leave it alone. I
don’t know who those people are and why there is separation. But, I trust my parents. They
must’ve had a good reason to keep them at bay.”
“I hear everything you say. Truly, I do. But, you spend your days bringing closure to
families and friends. Now it’s your turn to bring closure to your own life. Who knows? This may
be the start of a new chapter. You’ve been around Lorraine far too long. You’re going dark when
you don’t know if this situation calls for it.” Tammy shrugged.
After I went back to school to become a Forensic Pathologist, it challenged me in many
ways. It’s like a puzzle, and I’m the only one who can find the final missing piece to complete it.
But it’s easy when it’s someone else’s puzzle and not my own.
“Maybe you’re right.” I shrugged.
“At least you won’t have to do this alone,” she paused, sighing deeply. “At thirty-five, I
found my father. Our reunion wasn’t all rainbows and kittens. He was a tough old man, stuck in
his ways, and didn’t see anything wrong with running off to chase his dreams even though he
had a kid. He said he only had one life to live and he wasn’t wasting it by being held down with
responsibilities he never asked for.”
We all held our breath on the edge of our seats as we listened to Tammy share this part of
herself she’d never shared with us. It helped me understand her more. Even though she hasn’t
verbalized it, I wondered if this factored into her dating life. Oftentimes she’d have three dates in
one day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Mind you, she’s forty-seven-years-old with no plans of
slowing down.
“That’s terrible. How’s your relationship with him now? You never talk about him,” I
asked, touching her hand. You couldn’t see with the naked eye, but once I touched her hand, I
could feel her shaking. It affected her more than she let on. I held back my tears. She’s my sister.
I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t want to infringe if she wasn’t ready to share.
“I tried the father-daughter bit, but after a while I chose to cut the cord. I had all the
answers I needed. With a ton of counseling, I no longer wonder why he wasn’t there or if I
wasn’t good enough. Do you remember how I was when you first met me?”
Brooklyn and I met in college. She knows why I’m guarded and why it’s hard for me to
welcome new people into my life. So, she invited me to dinner to meet Tammy and Lorraine.
Albeit, it wasn’t a regular dinner. Tammy double booked us with two dates. One before our
dinner and one after our dinner. To say I was impressed with how she juggled us with her dates
without making us feel like we were in the way is an understatement. The woman has it down to
a science.
“Yeah, you were booked and busy that night.”
She playfully tapped my arm. “I didn’t realize it then. But I was searching for my dad in
every man I met. I believe you keep people away because you’ve operated so long without
family. You owe it to yourself to make the most beautiful life possible.”
“Are you okay,” I touched her forehead to see if she had a fever. “I’ve never heard you
go this deep before.”
“I’m fine,” she laughed. “Go on this journey and get to know yourself, and you too could
one day become as deep as me.” She snapped her fingers with a grin and twisted her hip.
Perhaps Tammy’s observation of me hit the mark this time. I’d built a wall no one could
get around because of my isolated past. I’ve lost more than a few love interests and possibly
great friendships. Then I blamed everyone else for not seeing the good in me. When more than
likely I never gave them a chance.
“I’ll think about it. Go get some sleep, old woman. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“This is the second time one of you has referred to me as an old woman as if I couldn’t
run circles around each and every one of you.” Tammy kissed my forehead and sauntered
upstairs.
Without a doubt I knew I made two great decisions even with my issues. Having my son,
and lowering my wall enough for Tammy and Lorraine to be in my life. But this wasn’t the
relaxing evening I had in mind for our girl’s night.
Thanks Lorraine.
About the Author
Tasha Hutchison, author of the captivating women’s fiction novel,
“Broken Petals.” With a passion for captivating storytelling,
Tasha aims to enchant and intrigue readers through her evocative narratives.
Her book Broken Petals also landed her as a finalist in the best book awards
for Page Turner Awards in 2023.
Hailing from Texas, she holds an associate in arts degree and finds solace
in quality time with her loved ones. When not crafting compelling tales,
Tasha channels her creativity into developing writing organizers to assist
fellow writers in nurturing their story ideas.
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