Words of Love

PROLOGUE

Call it old fashion, but Simone French was smitten with a love letter. Not a text, email, or Facebook post, but a love letter sent through snail mail.

The prose wasn’t the corny roses-are-red-and-violets-are-blue stuff. The first letter contained short accolades for a job well done. Soon after, the missives were filled with passionate words from a man who confessed the hidden secrets of his soul. He revealed his unspoken weaknesses, listed his uncompromising desires, and unapologetically noted his subtle strengths.

Rice Taylor was ready to surrender to love.

Whew. Closing her eyes, Simone inhaled the faint lingering smell of roses on the beige plain stationery. She had a testimony. If anyone would listen, she would proclaim that love was truly blind.

CHAPTER 1

Seven months ago

Beware of what you ask for because you just might get it, Simone French thought. As a hot upcoming St. Louis radio personality, she was surprised how much her listeners took what she said literally.

What person was bold and gullible enough to go on a blind date anymore? At twenty-six years old, Simone was single and trying to convince herself that she was satisfied. Only she knew the truth. And God, which makes two.

Every morning on KXNG-FM, Simone’s radio show, Don’t Get French with Me dominated the airwaves. Sipping on a glass of pineapple juice, Simone adjusted her headset, then she re-positioned the microphone inches above her mouth. The countdown to her segment had begun.

It was Monday and open line. Simone dreaded the combination. She assumed some listeners still had pent up frustrations left over from the weekend and her show was the venue to dump their laundry. That was a waste with so many strong topics to discuss. Simone never understood the station’s decision to have an open forum twice a week for trivial things people could bore their mother, a therapist, or stranger on public transportation with. 

When some callers became unruly, she did have recourse. They were subject to her tag line, don’t get French with me, and then the call was dropped.

Simone swayed her shoulders as she hummed along with her theme music that was blaring from the overhead speakers. Although the station was popular, the owner was slow to embrace the new millennium way of running a business. Basically, he didn’t consolidate job duties and lay off staff.

That was one reason why Simone didn’t have to multi-task and work the controls, answer the phone lines and be the talent. Thank God for Glen Howard, her technical board operator and senior engineer. 

When he cued her, Simone took a deep breath and commanded a bubbly introduction, Heeeeeeey, it's Monday on ‘Don't Get French with Me’, comin’ at ya in three, two, and one. 

Just as Simone’s energy kicked into high gear, Glen yawned. Pitiful. Her show was the first of four Glen engineered daily, and he looked as if he’d already worked a twenty-four hour shift and wouldn’t stay awake much longer. 

He wasn’t happy that he had to put in the extra effort to answer the phone. Glen preferred engineering shows where the hosts were so boring, the phones hardly rang. He reminded her of a Maytag repairman.

Welcome, St. Louis, she purred. It’s open mic. Give me a call and tell me what’s on your mind. Simone gave the number.

Although the station used a three second delay feature, no one screened her calls. If management decided to further stimulate the economy, she would put her request in for a screener.   All seven phone lines lit up and Simone took the first caller. Good morning, Patrick. What's on your mind?

Besides you and me and—

Simone rolled her eyes. A Beyoncé or Halle, she was not. As a matter of fact, very few people even knew how she looked. She refused to have her picture posted on the station website. At first management bucked, but then they decided with her voice, why not create a mystique about her. That was all well and fine with her.

Keep your clothes on or in five seconds, you know what you’ll hear.

No harm, Frenchie, no harm. I called to talk about materialistic relationships.

Really? Although she could somewhat relate to the topic, she hoped Patrick’s point of view wasn’t about berating women. Thanks to disingenuous ex-boyfriends, Simone seldom dated anymore.

While her guest ranted, her mind drifted back to some of her own disappointing fiascos: David Knight had no problem insulting her by stating their relationship was less stimulating than her talk shows. He wanted the radio sex kitten he heard on the air every morning. Before him, there was Calvin Kane. Although the brother was fine, the "snake’ had his own agenda: to use her to increase his personal contacts within the radio industry.

Whoever said that a woman could have it all—lied. She had yet to become that woman, considering she was living a double life. Men described her radio voice as sultry. One time she was teasingly told she could turn a simple, hello into a five-minute pillow talk.

She couldn’t take credit for a voice God gave her. That asset aided in her show’s popularity and paid the bills. Otherwise, she had no problem being soft spoken.

Simone was nothing like the image she portrayed over the airwaves.  As a Christian who believed in practicing what her pastor preached, Simone longed for a deep, meaningful and committed relationship. She preferred a Christian man, but she was open as long as the date was respectful and willing to attend church. Who knows, the sermon might lead him to repentance.

As Glen eagerly signaled for her to take a break, Simone realized that she had given her caller more than his one minute of fame. It was also time to air a goofy car dealership commercial Glen had recorded. Although her engineer was a media tech guru, he couldn’t buy a broadcast voice.

Thanks Patrick, she disconnected. You're listening to ‘Don't Get French with Me’ on KXNG. When I come back, I want to hear from you. There’s got to be some love out there!

It was the first time she had zoned out during one of her Monday open mic shows. Maybe she was becoming immune to gripers. Soon enough, Glen tapped on the glass partition, and then counted down the seconds before she was live on the air again.

Simone punched the second line. We're back. Let's welcome Gina to the show.

"Frenchie, I don’t know why the brothers are complaining. The guy before the break, Patrick, and other men are only after one thing—make that two, physical gratification they call intimacy and a hot cooked meal.

Sisters are tired of being used and discarded. It’s a new day. When the break-up occurs, we can walk away with compensation for a broken heart.

She was not about to play referee. Withholding her sigh, Simone responded, Hmm, games people play, just roll the dice and you might get love, or a once-scorned companion. C’mon, somebody out there has to have a true love story. Make me want to use this box of tissue.

For the next hour, Simone’s show was inundated with calls about busted, shaky, and unfulfilling relationships. Women described themselves as bitter and broken. Men characterized their former girlfriends as gold diggers.

Finally, a sixty-five-year-old retired bus driver phoned in, describing the perfect love affair that bloomed into a forty year marriage. Stop playing games. I think people know instantly if he or she is the one.

Simone had faith in God, but wasn’t completely sold on the ‘love at first sight’ thing. There were too many unknown variables. Basically, like the man being a jerk. Okay, I’m out of time, then without realizing what she was saying, Simone tossed out a challenge, Go out on a blind date. Close your eyes and open your heart. You might find the love of your life.

Removing her headset, Simone stood and gathered her papers to make way for the next host behind her. Without asking for one, she strolled out the studio with a headache. Simone liked her job, but it was the crazy people who called who challenged her patience.

CHAPTER 2

Rice Taylor was a first time listener to Don’t Get French with Me and he had every intention of being a first time caller. As luck would have it, the show concluded