"The Bed We've Made" is an urban soap opera that revolves around fictional Montgomery Alabama based, African American gangster, Bruno Santana and the love of his life, Savannah Parker.
The story portrays Bruno's rise to the top in organized crime and the difficulties he faces as he tries to balance his family life and his ongoing criminal organization. This epic crime saga features Bruno Santana's family members, criminal colleagues, and rivals in prominent roles and story arcs.
The characters are complicated and compelling. The storyline is hypnotically romantic and deeply unsettling with jaw dropping twists around every corner. You'll laugh, cry and eagerly turn the pages as you dive head first into the Deep South's favorite gangster family...
In the beginning, there were three types of humans: One male, one female, and one that was part male and female. Each human type had four hands, four feet, and one head with two faces. What they lacked in beauty, they made up for in strength and bravery. They even had the audacity to challenge the Gods. Zeus was fed up and decided to split these creatures in half to weaken them while increasing their numbers. His plan was that there would be more humans to offer sacrifices, but they'd be too weak to challenge the Gods. However, with the split, he inadvertently created us---- lonely creatures forever searching for our other halves. Humans were originally one, and we were a whole. The desire and pursuit of the whole is the definition of searching for our soulmates...
Welcome to the south side of Montgomery, home to some of the prettiest women and fast talking womanizers you'll ever come across. It was six o'clock on a lazy Sunday afternoon. A strong scent of soul food choked the Regency Park neighborhood like a blunt of high grade marijuana. YFN Lucci's hit single "Key To The Streets" bumped from an old radio sitting on the bathroom floor while thirteen year old Bruno Santana brushed his wavy hair in the mirror. He was just about ready to jump on his Mongoose bike and head over to Looney's Skating Rink , like he did every Sunday night with his homeboys, for the Sunday Freak Fest. His little sister Bella burst into the bathroom.
“Your friends is on the porch, Bruno!” She spat with her tiny hands on her boney little hips, like a pee wee army drill sergeant.
“They should be. It’s bout that time.” He answered, looking himself over one last time in the mirror.
Then he hurried out of the house to catch up with his homeboys. Mason Monroe, Orlando Hung, and Poncho Guzman were waiting for him on the front porch. They were all wearing matching crispy white T-shirts, black Levi Jeans, and white Air Force Ones. They'd been best friends since elementary school. It was impossible to see one without the other. They called themselves The Four Locos.
“Damn hood, let me find out y’all tryin to look like me. “Bruno said as he bumped the rock with each one of his homies.
“Nah hood, you know me and Poncho introduced y’all to this world of high hood fashion.” Mason responded with a smile as long as highway 65 stretched across his face.
Mason was always in a good mood, even though his family scenario was anything other than a happy environment. His mother was a violent, bitter woman whose addiction was not only drinking large amounts of cheap vodka, but also beating the shit out of her only child. There were numerous nights that Mason found himself floating between different family members' houses to escape her drunken fury. But through it all he never lost the urge to flash those pearly whites to anybody he came in contact with.
“Yeah, Bruno. I remember when you and Orlando was rocking them Wrangler jeans, looking like some straight lames.” Poncho joked as he sipped on his orangeade drink which was concealed inside of a small brown paper bag.
Poncho was an unexpected figure in this southside tale. He was a full blooded Mexican, which was unheard of in the dirty south. But, he was raised with the homeboys, so he was what they were, Locos.
“I don’t know what these fools talking bout, I remember when Poncho and Mason were wearing shorts so short and tight that every time they bent down to tie their shoes, niggas was stuffing dollar bills in their boxers.” Orlando said laughing.
Orlando was the Don Juan of the crew. If a girl was born with a pair of working ears on her head, she didn’t have a chance of resisting his hypnotic conversation. He was a playa. Bred down from a long blood line of pimps and womanizers. If a youngsta had a girlfriend that he wanted to keep, he definitely had to keep her away from Orlando. No ifs, ands, or buts, about it.
“I know right. Even to this day if one of em see a dollar bill, they get to shaking like a stripper.” Bruno co-signed.
Bruno was a spoiled young nigga. His Madear adored him and his six year old sister, Bella more than anything in this world. She even loved their father, the no good, lying, cheating, backstabbing, deadbeat who hadn’t been seen in the last five years. Even though he was a piece of shit, he had blessed his baby mama with two sweet natured children who she loved more than God himself. For that reason alone she would always have a soft spot for him inside of her heart. Bruno, who loved his Madear to death, didn’t share her views. He had no soft spots inside of him for a rolling stone who abandoned him and his baby sister for no apparent reason. But none of that mattered at the moment. The only thing on these young niggas minds was hanging out and putting their mack down on some bad bitches. So, as they cruised their bikes out of Regency Park, on their way to the skating rink, the mood was breezy…