Far From Heaven
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About this ebook
The story of Price Jones continues, with his new found success how will he handle the temptations that comes with it? How will Iris react to the new man he has become? In this story Price finds himself in situations that he would have never imagined while discovering himself more as a man, a lover, and father.
Michael Tavon
Michael Tavon (1991) was born St. Petersburg, Florida to Michael & Desiree Patterson. Although Tavon and two sisters grew up in low income-crime driven neighborhoods his parents instilled the importance of goals, education, and the 'will-to-do-good' in their children. As a child he developed a likeness for literature and television. His first book,"Garage Band The Legend of Dookie Harris", was self-published in 2014. Tavon is currently pursuing his Bachelors degree in Creative writing and will be attending the University of Central Florida in 2018.
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Book preview
Far From Heaven - Michael Tavon
Far from Heaven
A Price Jones Novel
Copyright 2020 © Michael Tavon
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author.
Contents
Journal Entry I: Happyness
Chapter one
Iris’ Inner Thoughts
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Journal Entry II: Addiction
Chapter Seven
Journal Entry III: Freedom
Iris’ Inner Thoughts II
Chapter Eight
Journal Entry IV: Moving Forward
Chapter Nine
Journal Entry V: Reform
Chapter Ten
Iris’ Inner Thoughts III
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Journal Entry VI: New Life
Chapter Fourteen
Journal Entry VII: Reflection
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Final Chapter
Far from Heaven by Michael Tavon
Price’s Journal Entry #1
Happiness
My life was once a beautiful catastrophe. A lot of love lost, and wisdom gained, and for the first time in my life I am truly HAPPY. I think. What the hell do I know, emotions are fickle and I’m one mishap away from going off deep end. But what is happYness?
Financial freedom? Love? Netflix? Wild sex followed by tender cuddling? Happiness is an enigma; defined by the person in pursuit of this said ‘happYness’.
Reasons to be Happy
• Sasha
• Iris
• God
• Life
• My siblings
• Sobriety
• Love! Love! Love!
• Inner-peace
• NY Times Best Seller
• Wedding
Whoa I’m getting married soon! Holy crap. My anxiety raced, the moment I typed the ‘M’ word.
I have many things to be happy about, yet I’m questioning it. The plight of human nature; the universe could present the heart all its internal desires, and it will find a way to feel unsatisfied. Are we ever truly happy?
Random: The suicide note I wrote a few years ago, is stashed in a shoebox, along with old notebooks, in the closet. I keep it as a momento, it serves as a reminder of how far I’ve come, mentally.
Now I write this entry, in disbelief! I’m no longer broken. Thank God and Iris for saving me.
I’m freaking Haaaaaaaappy! I’m going to begin the rest of my life.
Say hello to the rose who survived the heatwave. I’m stronger than ever.
I, Price Ashley Jones, has found inner peace, love, and success. The universe and blessed me with everything and more. Now off to my first major book signing <3
Chapter One
The day has arrived, my dreams have become a reality It’s so surreal, seeing the joyful expressions of dozens of people - men, children and mostly women - with my newly released title, A Shade of Happiness, pressed against their bosom or clutched in their arms, like a baby. I say to myself you've finally made it.
All the sleepless nights of drinking until my stomach gave out, accompanied by hours of self-loathing have finally paid off. For the first time in my life everything feels good. Life is good.
An NY Times best seller I've finally become, but, I didn't do this all alone. To my left I see the light of my life - my beautiful baby girl, Sasha, who’s two years old now - held by my brother, Jordan. Standing next to him and the most supportive fiancé and a man could ever dream of, Iris.
Iris stands with her arms folded and her red lips slightly puckered. The creases between her eyes appear as she glances at the many young attractive women waiting to meet me. She has nothing to worry about though. I would never hurt the woman who saved my life. She’s the reason why I am still able to see the light of day.
To my right are the two people who work around the clock to make sure my career continues to gain momentum.
My publicist Shelly Richardson often referred to as Shelz. A hefty, but shapely woman, with finely moisturized skin. Her wavy extensions flow to her breasts. Shelz, an industry veteran, has the perfect combination of Brooklyn savviness and Ivy League brilliance; even though she never made it past community college. She’s the one responsible for my strong social media presence.
Standing next to her is Justis Monroe, my agent. A dark brown brother, wearing V-neck and a pair of ripped jeans. He stands six feet five and carries himself with a carefree demeanor.
He wears his dreads in a high bun, with a marijuana joint over tucked over his left ear. Justis takes those rose gold sunglasses from the neck of his shirt to shield his light red eyes.
With no formal education or prior experience, I chose him instead of a suit with too many clients on his plate. Why? Because I knew he had everything to prove and nothing to lose. As his only client, he gives me his undivided attention. Justis is a smooth talker from Oakland and could sell abstinence to a prostitute. The type of guy I need in this business.
The first woman-middle aged, with stringy blond hair- approaches the table. Her expression is of a woman who has endured decades of anguish or grown displeased of the person she has become. I know, because It’s a face I’ve seen a hundred times. It was the same face my mother lived with during her years of drug binging. I saw the pain in her eyes when she was high.
The woman greets with a smile, her hands fidget uncontrollably as she hands the book over. Her daughter stands to her side. The frail young girl’s posture is closed, and she shies away from eye contact. I smile, to make her feel less frightened, but she only hides behind her mother, using her like a shield.
As I sign their books I ask for their names.
I’m Caroline, and this is my daughter, Ariel,
She says. I nod.
Your work is most inspiring, it speaks to my soul,
she says.
As her voice hits my ear I choke up. She speaks in the same tranquil tone my mother once did. I look over my shoulder, Jordan gapes back and nods. I smile softly.
Thank you for those heartwarming words, Ms. Caroline.
No thank you for saving us,
She says.
I squint my eyes to prevent any sudden tears from falling. Those words touched my heart in way that’s going be stuck with me forever. Ariel reaches for a handshake, but I stand and stretch my arms as wide as an eagle would spread its wings. She leans over and places her head on my chest. We embrace for the longest eight seconds.
Bye Mr. Jones,
Ariel waves.
It’s Price,
I smile.
The next supporter – a young dark woman- places her book the table.
Hi, I’m Sydney?
She says, with her strong English accent.
Where are you from, Syd?
I ask.
Originally Walsall, but I currently live in Orlando.
She smiles.
You flew to see me?
I point to myself.
Of course, silly
She twirls a strand of hair with her finger.
Me? I ask again. Really?!
You’re my fav!
Her smile lingers.
I sign the front page. To think someone would spend their hard-earned money, to book a flight – a hotel room – to see in me person, was beyond any dream I could ever conceive.
You’re a lefty too?
She smiles. Gosh you’re awesome!
Why thank you! I say, through my coy smile.
Bye, Priiiiiice.
She winks. See you at ‘Da Poetry Lounge’ tonight,
She waves.
Hey, don’t forget your book,
I say, as she walks away,
Oh,
She giggles. I guess I’m a little nervous.
I nod as she walks away. The switch in her hips brew some lusty thoughts, but I quickly look to Iris, who’s more focused on her phone than what’s transpiring now.
Babe?
I say. She quickly glances at me and redirects her attention to her screen. She’s obviously having an enjoyable conversation via text.
"Who is