For The Love of Friends


I have been holding my breath for this day when all my friends and family will learn about my soon-to-be-released book as I invite them to ‘like’ my new Facebook page. So for those I know and love, and for those who are just now meeting me, here’s a little snippet from Anytime Soon. Anaya has two best friends who face serious issues. It’s hard to support a friend when you don’t agree with them. 

Excerpt from Chapter 2

Catie had extreme mood swings, maybe even multiple personalities. She could be happy and upbeat one minute, but down and depressed the next. When we pulled into the garage of the luxury, high-rise condominiums that Catie lived in, the attendant helped her out of the car. She didn’t speak or thank the gentleman or even look at him. That was certainly a clue that she was in one of her darker moods. I let myself out of the car and met her at the elevator. She lived on the thirtieth floor of her building. Each floor past the twenty-fifth had its own key, so the elevator let us out directly into her condo. Without a word, she went straight to her bedroom and closed the door.

Catie’s condo was really nice. It looked like it could be featured in a magazine. It originally had three bedrooms, but she had converted one into an office and another into a workout room.

There were three bathrooms, a laundry room, a formal dining room, and a gourmet kitchen. The girl couldn’t make noodles, but she still insisted on having a gourmet kitchen. I sat on her brown leather couch, looking through her photo albums. She always had new pictures from the parties she went to. I was still impressed by some of the people she had met. She finally walked out of the bedroom, wearing tight, red leather pants, a red-sequined halter, and a short, red mink. She was holding her shoes in her hands, and when I saw how high the heels were, I knew why.

“How many inches are those shoes?”


A pair of silver drop earrings had taken the place of her diamond hoops because she never wore her best jewelry to appointments. She smelled like flowers, had on too much blush, and was wearing way-too-long fake lashes.

“Ready?” she asked. Her expression was blank, but there was irritation in her voice.

We had fought about her work far too many times. She knew I thought she was letting all her potential go to waste. I didn’t want to go with her, but I didn’t want to leave her stranded, either. Anything could happen to her. I loved Catie, but I hated what she did. I felt like she had given up. Somehow, she had convinced herself that no one cared about her—except her.

“Catie, you know you don’t have to do this,” I said cautiously.

“Do what?”

“Live like this.”

She looked around her condo and spread her arms.

“Like a queen, you mean? I don’t have to live like a queen?”

Tamika Greenwood