It was 1967 and my sixteenth birthday.
No adult should allow a randy teenage boy to have his own apartment or more accurately, share an apartment with his best friend, Charlie ‘Cat’ Risk who was two years his senior. But, Baby Waile, me, the young and dumb birthday boy, shared a one- bedroom apartment with his closest friend in the posh Virginia Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta, Georgia. Our apartment complex consisted of two, two-story buildings that ran parallel to each other and perpendicular to the ever-busy North Highland Avenue.
A woman entered his world.
She was the perfect girl that every teenage boy dreamed of having.
The dream was real for one such boy.
Entering his life, she led him into manhood teaching him how to truly live. She showed that even for him to love and to be loved was possible.
WARNING: Dangerous Curves, Turns, and Twists Dead Ahead!
Once again, you have been WARNED in the passionate letters of scorching-hot l’amore.
I can see that you’re paying me no never mind…so, read on brave souls!
This is RED.
