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Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Chapter 2 of my yet to be titled book

Chapter 2

The pounding on the door continued.  “John!!!  John!!  Are you in there? I will break down this door.  JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!”  John stared at the door.  He peered through the peep hole to see his best friend . . well his only friend.  Chet looked furious.  John stood there thinking of his options.  It was early for him, well, it was 2 in the afternoon, but it was early for him, so his mind wasn’t thinking very clearly.  He did not think he was in good enough physical shape to try to climb down the fire escape.  Well, that was a lie.  He was in shape, he just didn’t want to exhort himself. 
John realized he had to do something soon.  Chet was a member of the FBI, so he could actually kick in the door and get away with it.  “JOHN!!!!!!”  John sighed and opened the door to face his friend.  Chet barged passed him and straight into John’s bedroom.  John counted down from three on his fingers.  When his fingers reached zero, he heard, “WHAT THE . . . .!?!?!?  Why does it say Mommy on your cell phone!?!?  That’s how you list me in your phone!?!?” 
John sat down on the couch and smiled.  “Good to see you too Chet.  What can I do for you this morning?”
            “Why!!?!?!?  Why do I bother!?!?”  Chet stormed around the living room while John tried to suppress a smirk. “My last girlfriend told me that the best thing I could do is to let you fall into whatever deep depression filled hole it is that you want to!!  She told me that all you want to do is join Sam.  I told her that she was wrong.  I told her that you were just going through a rough spot and you would get through it.  I broke up with this girl because of the things she said about you!!  Do you realize that John!?!?  I left her because of YOU!!!!!  DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT SHE WAS!?!?!?!? 
            John had been trying to hold back the laughing, but with the last statement, he roared with laughter.  He laughed until his sides hurt.  As he looked through the tears that were rolling out of his eyes he noticed Chet was sitting on the chair laughing as hard as he was. 
            After several minutes of the chuckles dying down John spoke.  “You’re the only person that cares about me Chet, that’s why I named your cell phone number Mommy.”  John tried to keep a straight face but he burst into laughter and Chet did the same.  As the laughter finally subsided, John noticed a folder Chet was holding. 
            “Bring me a present Chet?” John asked.  Chet hesitated.  Oh crap, thought John.  “No!  No!!  I am done with the FBI!!!”  John was furious. 
            “Now John, calmed down.  You are being brought on as a consultant only.”
            “Chet, I have no interest.”
            “John, look, I know you don’t need the money. . .  Oh crap, I’m so sorry.”  John looked away.  Sam had a trust that was left to her by her grandparents.  Her grandparents were the only members of Sam’s family that liked him.  Honestly, they were stinking. filthy, rich. All of Sam’s trust had been left to John.  He didn’t know how much was exactly in the trust, but he knew it was enough for him to live five lives on. 
            Chet opened the folder in front of John.  He laid out four pictures of people that had been shot perfectly in the head.  It had John’s interest.  Chet let John look.  The case would sell itself and Chet knew that.  He just had to wait and John would hook himself.  As John leaned back, seeming to lose interest, Chet reeled him in with one little sentence.  “They were all shot by the same person, within five seconds of each other.”  John’s eyebrow shot up, and Chet knew he had his best friend back on the hunt with him.

Chapter 1 of my yet to be titled book.

Chapter 1
Two weeks later
Sunlight streamed into the apartment as John continued to beat on his alarm clock.  As the buzzing continued John realized it was his phone and not the alarm clock making this horrible racket.  As he focused his eyes on the name on his phone John groaned.  “Mommy” continued to flash across the face of his phone as John set his feet on the floor and held his head in his hands.  It wasn’t his real Mother of course.  His real Mother refused to speak to him now, which was fine by him.  In fact, John couldn’t remember speaking to any of his family since the funeral.
The funeral.  It had been three years, and it still seemed like yesterday.  It seemed like just yesterday when his in-laws cussed him in front of everyone at the gravesite.  It probably didn’t help he was three sheets to the wind while they were doing it.  It probably didn’t help that he told them they were interfering wastes of human flesh.  It probably didn’t help that he told them that he and Sam had never had children, not because of the job but because Sam didn’t want their interfering noses in the child’s life.  It sure didn’t help that his in-laws were right about John.  If John hadn’t been drinking . . . . If.  . . John’s thoughts were interrupted by the phone buzzing again.
John stood up and stretched.  He glanced out the window at the city.  New York.  Sam had wanted to live here.  Where else can you find the arts, the different types of people, the nightlife, and all the other wonders this city held she had asked him.  The most exciting city in the world. . .for John, it was also the loneliest city in the world.  John had only one friend here.  Most of John’s friends apparently agreed with the words his in-laws had spoken.  In fact, except for Chet, none of his friends had spoken to him since the funeral.  That was fine with John.  He didn’t need anyone.  No sirree, he was doing just fine one his own.  “They say every cloud has a silver lining and the silver lining is I haven’t had to listen to your stupidity since I lost her.  I don’t have to listen to your judgments, your foolish ideas, and I don’t have to listen to you speak.”  Johns smiled.  As he glanced over to the picture on his nightstand of him and the beautiful girl with him, his stomach dropped all over again.  The smile fell from his face.  “I know Sam.  It’s a lie.  I am not fine.  I’m a damn wreck and I don’t know how to go on each day without you.” 
            The phone buzzed again.  John walked out of the bedroom and walked into the kitchen.  He opened the freezer and stared at the bottle of vodka.  The bottle he had not touched since the funeral.  If only he hadn’t touched it before then.  . . . .  John had fought the same fight every morning for more than 3 years.  He had been to AA meetings, but he had never spoken.  He left the FBI after the incident.  He looked at the wall at his PI license and scoffed.  If you watched TV in the 80s, you would think every other street in a city had a private investigator on it.  What TV didn’t tell you is the majority of the work was process serving, chasing down debtors, and of course, spying on a spouse that someone thinks is cheating.
            With the type of work he did alone, it was a miracle he had been sober over three years.  John stared at the bottle and tears welled up in his eyes.  “Blast it Sam . . . .I’m .  . .  He was interrupted by a pounding on the door.  John wiped the tears from his eyes, shut the freezer door, sighed, and headed to towards it.