COUCH MATINEES

Couch Matinee: "THE QUEST"

2010-09-19T00:01:00.002-05:00

Frank Stevens was normally a genial man. If you asked people who knew him they would say that Frank would be the last person to get into trouble with the law.

Truth be told, Frank had never been in trouble before, and as we meet him driving down the interstate early Saturday morning. he is singing along to the music.
Frank leaned down to work the CD player in his car.

Prior to starting off on this trip he has stopped and picked up some new music. There is nothing like cruising along at 70 MPH with the sun roof open; listening to some good rock and roll, Frank thought to himself.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

Double Cheeseburger, Fries and Large Drink

$3.75

FROM ORIGINAL POSTING:
As the holidays are upon us and the next two Mondays are Christmas and New Year’s Day, We are not going to begin a serial today.

What we have planned is what they used to call in the olden days (YES, EVEN OLDER THEN ME!) a “one-reeler.”

Please take your seats, remember not to make noise and disturb your neighbors.

Frank Stevens was normally a genial man. If you asked people who knew him they would say that Frank would be the last person to get into trouble with the law.

Truth be told, Frank had never been in trouble before, and as we meet him driving down the interstate early Saturday morning. he is singing along to the music.

Frank leaned down to work the CD player in his car. Prior to starting off on this trip he has stopped and picked up some new music. There is nothing like cruising along at 70 MPH with the sun roof open; listening to some good rock and roll, Frank thought to himself. The Black Crowes singing "Evil Eye." Frank owned many songs with this name, though they were all different.

This trip seemed so spur of the moment. Frank had shocked his boss by asking for the next week off on a Thursday afternoon. Frank was always so precise and had everything planned in advance. When his boss inquired if there was anything wrong, Frank had just replied that it was a “family situation and he needed to deal with it.”

Of course his boss had approved the time-off. Frank was a his first employee and his most diligent worker and was always available to help others. If he had a family emergency, they would pitch in and help.

On Friday, everyone in the office asked if there was anything Frank needed, anything they could do. Later on, to a person, they would say that Frank never discussed the exact nature of this “family emergency”, and was acting a bit off. This was chalked up to his mind being on the situation at hand.

How long would you be gone, he was asked? He told them just the week should be fine to clear up the matter.

It was difficult for Frank to be so mysterious. He was CFO and Operations Manager of this small company. In total there were 56 employees and 13 of those worked off-site around the country. They managed software for human resources departments across the country.

When the owner, Harvey Norris, had decided to leave the monster firm he worked for, he recruited Frank from the same company. He promised Frank he would be taken care of and for the most part he had been. His salary and bonus were excellent and no one ever questioned his work.

His position also allowed him to travel across the country to visit clients, and potential clients. This is the part Frank loved the most. It allowed him to widen his QUEST, which he realized, was necessary.

At the end of the day on Friday, Frank quietly said good night and walked out and into his car. Stopping home, he grabbed the four suitcases he had packed.

Kneeling on the floor next to the smallest of the four, Frank unzipped it and pulled out the container inside. It was an aluminum cannister, about 18" in height. Inside was Frank's ultimate reward. Twenty-nine "lovelies". For all the years he had to endure...had to be at the mercy of the call, whenever it came. Frank was not going to be denied his 29 "lovlies." He picked up the bags and as he walked out he quickly looked back and smiled.

He had driven for 12 hours straight, only stopping for gas and some Pepsi and snacks. Frank never ate meals. He picked. If he stopped for fast food ¾ of it would end up being eaten cold. That mattered little to Frank. He knew he needed food. Food was the “fuel” that allowed him to continue on his QUEST.

Ah his QUEST. For one second, his strength slipped and he thought “the QUEST "was coming to fruition.” Then he mentally slapped himself. FOCUS.

His eyes slid to the fuel gauge and he knew he had to make a stop soon. The stops he made during the night did not bother him. The clerks were always half asleep and never really looked up into the faces of their nocturnal customers. He could fill the tank, always making sure he put in exactly $25.00. Frank would then walk to the store area to get “fuel” for himself.

But during daylight the clerks are more awake, so you have to make sure you don’t do anything to make them remember you. If you do, well…we won’t think about that.

As the car was getting fed, Frank opened his trunk and looked around to make sure no one was watching. He unzipped the small bag and looked into the container. "Hello lovlies, soon we will rest," Frank whispered. Smiling, he closed it quickly and slammed the trunk closed.

Walking in and turning to his right he made his way down the first aisle. “All the same…all the same,” Frank thought to himself, his eyes constantly scanning left and right looking at the items on the shelves. This could be any gas station convenience store – all the same…all the same.

Frank’s right hand reached out to grab a box of Cheese Nips, “$25.00 for gas plus $2.50, $27.50”, Frank calculated in his head. Then his left scooping up 2 packages of Hostess Cupcakes “1.00 each that is $29.50” – all the same all the same – and then he was at the cooler.

Frozen foods. Who comes to a gas station convenience store and buys a frozen dinner he thought and shook his head. Moving to his left, Frank started at the bottom, and scanned upward…then moving to the next door and starting at the top and scanning down.

Frank crab-walked sideways continuing down the cooler. Ice teas, ginger ale, then the coke products and Frank moved quickly by those. He drank one thing, Pepsi. Not Diet Pepsi, not caffeine-free, not diet caffeine-free. No, one thing – Pepsi in a 20 oz bottle.

Finally, the Pepsi products and Frank grabbed two “$1.50 each, ok $32.50”. Turning, Frank moved down another aisle and reached down to grab 4 Almond Joy bars, “$4.00, $36.50… humm” Frank thought again and grabbed two more candy bars “OK, $38.50.” This time Frank spoke the words, even shocking himself.

Frank looked into his hand to reassure himself that he had two twenty-dollar bills in his right hand.

The items were delicately balanced in his arms, but when Frank reached the counter he lost concentration and one of the Pepsi’s slipped and bounced on the counter.

The cashier reached out and stopped it before it rolled off. Frank silently cursed.

“Ya might wanna gets another one. Thisun will be all shook up now,” mumbled the adult sitting behind the counter. “God man, we have baskets ya know,” Stevie Owens thought to himself. Stevie was a 27 year old high school drop out. His biggest goal in life, at that moment, was getting back to the “Letters To Penthouse” he had hidden under the counter.

The Pepsi falling had also caused Frank to wince. He liked to get in pay his money, always leaving any extra behind, which is why he added the candy. Leave two big a “tip” they remember you. For a dollar-fifty, well not so much.

Frank put the rest of the items on the counter. Stevie turned and looked out the window at Frank’s car. “Don’t look at the car”, Frank thought to himself. “Pump 4? Twenty-five”, Stevie mumbled and hit the register keys then scanned the rest of the items. When he was done he mumbled “$40. 65” Frank looked at the clerk and then at the register. “Arg, the tax you ass!” he screamed silently.

Into his front pocket went his hand. His fingers probing. He did not want to pull out the wad of bills in his pocket. Of course they were all twenties and fives. That way – when he remembered the tax – he could just drop the money and not worry about getting that dirty change back. Hoping his fingers had slipped around a five and not a twenty Frank withdrew his hand and glanced down. YES! A fiver.

While Frank had been five-fishing, Stevie had thrown the items into two plastic bags. “Ah, Mista, ya gonna get a notda Pepsi?” Stevie said as he held out the suspect bottle. Frank looked up slightly; he had still managed not to make eye contact, and took the bottle from Stevie’s hand and pushed it into one of the bags and walked out.

“O hey man ya forgot ya ……..change?” Stevie’s voice followed as Frank went out the door, hardly hearing the last word.

“Damn, damn, damn damn" Frank mumbled as he slid into the driver’s seat, put on his seatbelt, started the car and threw it into drive. Go slow, they notice when you speed out, Frank reminded himself, and pulled onto the entry back to the Interstate.

Once on the interstate, Frank tried to control his breathing. Eventually he had it under control and put another CD in and turned the volume up full.

The sounds of "Evil Eye" by Billy Idol filling the car and flooding out the sunroof.

He tried to let the words fill his head, but instead his mind started spinning again. He began to see his life in little snippets. As a child, battered by his peers, he withdrew and became a loner. Watching from the shadows…always thinking about how he would make them all pay some day.

Then in high school, the coach had convinced him to go out for football. Frank found he had a talent. Playing defensive back, he enjoyed the hitting. Running full-steam into the opponent and knocking him back 5-yards.

His greatest satisfaction was not hitting the other teams, but in practice when he got to line up against one of those who had been his bully years before. It was like they didn’t even remember him, he was just another kid not “Frankie F**kwad”, the name they gave him years back.

Until that third day of practice his junior year, when his assignment was to blitz and while the quarterback was giving signals Frank heard him…heard him as if he had said it out loud.

“22, blue, warrior-right, 14 - frankie f**kwad, - hike!” This is what Frank heard and when he made his move he slipped between the linemen and kept going.

Now in practice, when you get to the quarterback you are only supposed to two-hand touch, to avoid injuries. This day “Frankie-f**kwad” was not following the rules and he hit that asshole Gary Bowers so hard he broke 3 ribs and dislocated his shoulder.

Of course the Coach was livid and screaming in Franks face as they took little Gary to the hospital. “That’s right, you crying little baby, whose the F**kwad now?” Frank thought and that is when he heard the Coach scream “And what is it with that ‘I’m a retard’ smile you have on???? Huh, STEVENS, WELL ARE YOU A RETARD?”

Frank never remembered what happened next but according to what he heard later, he had hit the coach with his fist. It was the last time Frank was on any kind of sports field and he sunk even deeper into the shadows.

But he did remember one thing. He liked the feeling he had when he hit both of them. The shot at Bowers was the most satisfying feeling he had ever had. It took a while to admit it to himself, but when he got up from the tackle, he was aroused. And when he was being pushed away from the coach after hitting him, well he had actually orgasmed!

That scared him at first, but later on, in his bedroom thinking about the incidents, he found it happened again.

And that is when THE QUEST had begun to form in his mind. When he began to understand his life mission.

He waited to truly begin until he went out of state to college. When he “reinvented” himself into this cool ladies man.

It wasn’t really hard. The girls didn’t know about “Frankie-F**kwad” – no one did. And he wasn’t really bad looking. His dark hair was a little long and never really combed, but it gave him a bad-boy image.

He began dating. Never staying with one long, sampling the variety as he used to like to say to himself. And THE QUEST formulated and percolated.

Then his junior year he moved off campus into an old house by himself. His friends – because he had many now…and that used to make him smirk and think “yeah, you would be surprised if you knew” – wondered why he was moving in alone. He just explained that he needed his “alone” time and winked to the guys and whispered “for the ladies dudes…”

Sometime his senior year was his first test. It went badly. Frank was very disappointed in himself and shut himself in his bedroom refusing to come out for three days.

Then just before graduation, he tried again. This time wasn’t as much of a failure, but he was still disappointed in the overall results.

Once he had graduated from college, Frank moved to the city where he got the first job he interviewed for. He could be very personable (actually if he wasn’t his QUEST would have been unattainable.

It was the large company where he met Harvey. Frank was just an accountant when he began and Harvey worked in IT. They clicked over drinks one night and became friends. That is why 10 years later, when Harvey left to start up his firm, he grabbed Frank up. By that time Frank was assistant Comptroller and was pretty secure. He would not have left if not for the knowledge that he would be able to travel around the county, expanding his paying field.

During those 10 years, Frank lived in a small house outside of town. He couldn’t live in an apartment in downtown as all the other single guys did. An apartment would just not do.

But he did spend many nights working the bars and clubs. Watching, learning, seducing, and practicing.

Yes, practicing. It wasn’t until he had completed his 7th test, that Frank felt he had mastered the task. Mastering did not mean ending it, it meant now he could put the entire process into higher gear.

And he did. Over the next few years, Frank was the "Knight on the Quest" and every test put in front of him was passed. Frank was feeling he was so close to the completion when the new job opportunity was put in front of him and he knew that this was another test he had to master.

Frank reached the intersection of I70 and I 15 and headed south, coming out of the mountains and heading for Las Vegas. He looked at the passenger seat and saw the empty wrappers and box and bottles. That clerk, he thought, I hope he didn’t look to close. Don’t worry, before they know anything you will be gone.

The car needed fuel and so did Frank and even though he hated to admit it, he needed sleep. That is fine though, traveling during the day was not wise.

He saw a billboard “TURN IN MOTEL- 3 MILES – TAKE THE BEAVER EXIT” and decided he should stop. He liked the name Beaver, Utah, in the state of Mormons, they have a town called Beaver and he chuckled. Luckily the TURN IN MOTEL also had a gas pump, so Frank pulled in, filled up the car… just $25.00 and then walked into the office. He put a twenty and a five on the counter and looked at the woman sitting there.

Brunette, about 5’4”, hazel eyes...nice smile. “That all today Mister?” she asked, smiling again. As Frank aged, the women seemed more drawn to him and this was crucial in his QUEST.

Deepening his voice slightly, Frank spoke “Well, if you have a room, I think I could use a shower and a bit of sleep. Been on the road all night.” “Sure mister, got room 101 rights next door all cleaned and ready” and she reached down, snagged a key off an unseen board and put her hand out.

As Frank took the key his fingers touched hers and he felt it. It was not strong, as the touch was fleeting, but he knew it when it happened. And he looked at her hand…small, thin fingers, and the pinky…almost perfect. He looked up and saw her staring at him, the smile still there, but a bit questioning.

She had felt it too, he was sure. This surprised Frank. He had not expected another test. He thought the last was the final, the one that allowed him to complete THE QUEST. But the powers knew better than Frank, they always had, going back to the beginning.

Frank took the key and backed out the door, still looking and she looking at him. He put the key in the door and pushed open. The room was clean, that was good. He turned on the light and the TV. Frank never watched the TV; he liked the sound on in the background.

Turning he went out to the car and opened the trunk. He grabbed the two small bags, one which had a change of clothes and his toiletries in it, the other his "lovelies". The others stayed in the trunk.

As he pushed the trunk closed he looked up to see the girl standing in the window watching him. Her body was supple and young and Frank turned quickly and went into the room and locked the door. He put his back against the door and looked upward. “Again?...More? I thought I was done…” he whispered.

Frank walked to the bed and opened the special one. He pulled out the jar and opened it and looked inside and smiled. "ALL MINE...all 29 - would it be 30?", he thought, and closed the lid and put it back in his bag. Putting the bag on the bed, Frank walked toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it on the floor. Then he left his pants and underwear where they fell. Turning on the shower, Frank let the water run until it was scalding hot. If you are going to shower, you might as well get clean was Frank’s motto.

Stepping into the shower he unwrapped the tiny soap, tossing the wet paper onto the floor.

Using the tiny bar he scrubbed himself making sure to reach every crevice. The hot water just got hotter and his skin turned red as he continued to scrub.

When he was done, he turned the water off and stepped out of the tub. He hadn’t even bothered to close the curtain and the bathroom floor was wet causing him almost to slip. Grabbing two towels he started wiping himself off as he walked back toward the bed, sitting down on the comforter as he finished drying himself.

Frank stood and turned toward and began to stretch. That was when he realized he had not closed the curtains in the room and on the other side of the glass was the girl from the office…staring.

Frank dropped the towel and walked to the door. He opened the door and she stepped into the room and without a word began disrobing.

The sun was down by the time Frank had finished. He knew he had to get dressed and get back on the road soon.

Dressing quickly, Frank tossed his old clothes into his bag and taking one last look, left the room.

He locked the door and as he got into his car, he watched as another car pulled up and the man got out and walked to the office carrying a lunchbox. The night clerk coming to work. Drive slowly Frank thought.

He pulled out and got back onto the interstate. A full tank of gas in the car. But he had not bought any snacks. Fuel. He had planned on doing that before he left, but his interruption derailed his plans.

No matter, he was energized.

He drove, now Black Sabbath blasting their "Evil Eye" out of the car. The cool night air in the desert was invigorating. After about an hour of driving, Frank pulled to the side of the Interstate. This had to be done in the dark. Frank walked to the trunk, opened it and removed the items needed. He walked about 100 yards off the Interstate and finished this test. Heading back to the car his step was a bit lighter and he got in and pulled away.

A few hours later outside of Las Vegas, Frank filled the car ($25.00) and bought two more bottle of Pepsi, some chips and onion dip and moved on.

He went straight through Vegas, keeping the machine headed in the only direction he needed.

Four and a half hours later, Frank pulled into the long term parking lot at LAX. He locked the car, leaving all of the empty bottles and papers where they lay. Opening the trunk he removed three of the four bags, leaving the small one where it was.

He tossed the keys into the trunk and then slammed the hood closed.

Frank pulled out the wallet. He took the license and all other items with the name Frank Stevens and tossed them in the garbage pail. .

Replacing all the items with new identification, he was now Alfred Thomas, the same name that appears on the plane ticket in his pocket.

He walked to the outside baggage clerk and checked two of the three remaining bags. He really had wanted to take the second one with him and not check it, but he could not afford some $8.50/hour schlep to ruin anything by asking him to open the bag for a physical search if he carried it through security. They would not understand and it would ruin everything. He will not rest until that bag is back in his hands.

Frank walked to the nearest men’s room and selected the stall farthest from the door. Locking the door, he opened the bag he had and changed into new clothes again. He opened the stall and looking to ensure he was alone stuffed the old clothes into the trash can. He then washed his hands and face – scrubbing hard and using steaming hot water.

When he was done he looked in the mirror and smiled.

Picking up his bag he strode out the door and toward his gate. As he walked he looked at the departure board and saw his flight, Korean Airlines Flight 12 non –stop to Seoul, Korea. Not his final stop, only the first step in his final journey.

He walked to the gate, waited until they called the first-class customers and boarded.

Settling in he asked for some Champagne – time to celebrate – and as the plane took off into the night sky Alfred Thomas smiled and closed his eyes. His QUEST was over.

Seven days later when Frank Stevens did not show up at work, his boss was a bit concerned. Trying Frank’s cell phone, it went right to voice mail.

On Tuesday, they became more concerned. By Wednesday, they were concerned enough to call the police.

The police went to Frank’s home and finding no one there, broke in. They searched the house and found everything in order. As they were about to finish up, one of the detectives noticed the rug in the den was askew, and he lifted the edge.

“Hey, it looks like a trap door.”

They moved the furniture and pulling their guns, opened the trapdoor.

One by one, the first three officers climbed down the ladder into the opening they found.

When they reached the bottom, they moved their flashlights around the room they had entered. Two of the thee officers immediately contaminated the scene when they vomited all over evidence.

Six weeks later, all the pieces were finally falling into place.

Frank’s company discovered the main bank account had been emptied of $4.5-million dollars.

The remains of 12 women were found in the room under Frank Steven’s home, along with pictures of each which documented the horrors they had been put through. Reports from 8 other states had already been received. Bodies of women who had been found with the same injuries as those found in the hole.

Who knew how many more would be discovered over the years? Out of all the details released to the press one item was never reported. It was easy to identify because even the decomposed bodies had the tell-tale sign.

Each of the 30 women found was missing their left pinky.

STORY NOTE: When originally published, the header for this was not the Drive-In Marquee which became the header for most to follow. I added that to this post to keep the look of all the other stories. The original header is at the end if you are curious.

THE QUEST got so into my head that I began to turn it into a book about 2 years ago. I stumbled and put it down, but am beginning to feel like it is something I must complete.

The day I wrote this I sat down at the computer with nothing in my head for a story. I had begun the matinee series with the three-part "BOY FROM NEW YORK", semi-autobiography so was in need to begin something new. I had two sentences when I started typing...."Frank Stevens was normally a genial man. If you asked people who knew him they would say that Frank would be the last person to get into trouble with the law." The rest just came out of my fingers direct from the dark room where many of these stores live.

Originally Published 12/18/06
An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2006 - VEMjr

"The Boy From New York City" - Episode 1

2010-09-18T00:01:00.007-05:00

After graduating college, it was back to mom and dad's for a couple of years to get some dough together. Hey our first job paid a whopping $7,500.00 a year.

Then about a year later we got offered a job with a huge salary... never would we have to worry about money again...$11,000.00!

This is the first installment of what we have decided to call...
MONDAY MATINEE ON THE COUCH

To quote from the Grateful Dead
"What A Long Strange Trip It's Been..."

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
Texas Stagehand Chili, Fries and Large Drink
$4.50

After graduating college, it was back to mom and dad's for a couple of years to get some dough together. Hey our first job paid a whopping $7,500.00 a year.

Then about a year later we got offered a job with a huge salary... never would we have to worry about money again...$11,000.00!

That was when it was decided that a move into Manhattan with a commuter friend of mine, Frank was in order. We had a loft on 22nd Street in between 1st and 2nd avenues. Great location, 10 blocks from my office, so within walking distance.

We flipped a coin and THE COUCH won, getting the bedroom downstairs and Frank had the loft. It had 2 bathrooms a nice size living room and a good kitchen for me to cook in.

In both the living room and bedroom were sliding glass doors onto an iron balcony that was about 2 feet wide, but HEY, you could stand outside!

The building had an interesting mix of occupants. On the first floor was an apartment with 5 flight attendants (they were stewardesses back then).

On our floor, we had a pimp who lived there with one of his ladies, two drug dealers and a "Call Girl." She lived next door.

She had an apartment where she worked from on Sutton Place. This apartment was her home, and she never did business there.

THE COUCH NOTE: Sutton Place in Manhattan was a very upscale street with million dollar townhomes, even back then.

We actually became friends with her and would have her over for dinner on those nights she was not working. Nothing ever happened...she was actually very educated and a great person.

In our building was an upscale health club that had a sun area below us. We lived on the top floor...floor six.

Out our balcony we looked upon a 20 story apartment building. It was probably 40 yards away. One weekend, one of my HS buddies was in the city to go out and hit the clubs with me.

Sunday morning THE COUCH woke up and walked into the living room to find him sitting on the couch staring out the glass doors.

Asking what he was looking at, he turned with this huge smile on his face. "Your neighbor across the way is cleaning her apartment and she is stark naked."

"Has she seen you?" we asked. "Absolutely, she was not naked at first and she looked across and waved and then went out of sight and came back naked" was his reply.

As he said that, she reappeared AND WAVED AGAIN...

This became a routine for her each Saturday. One Saturday, well let's just say we did not let her clean alone...

And one New Year's Eve she and her roommate were having a party and so were we, and we waved and they came over for a drink at one point...we never talked again...but Saturdays...ahhh Saturdays!

There was another weekend..that sticks in my mind. It was mid day and there was a bang at the door.

Being the only one home THE COUCH got up from watching a Yankee game on TV and looked through the peep hole. Not seeing anything we opened the door. There on the ground was a woman, who was obviously drunk.

We looked down the hall and it was empty. At that moment the door at the other end of the floor opens and here comes Roger (the pimp - who was always pleasant and always said hello).

He stops in his tracks and say "Having a problem there Vinny?" "Not me man, she was here when I opened the door." He kneels down and says "Ah, I saw her, she is from down the hall, she came in for the weekend from Toronto and is at Steves" (a guy who lived on our floor, who I really did not know). "Well what do we do?" was my question.

At that point Roger notices a wad of bills in her bra, removes them and hands me $100.00 and says "Go back inside, I will deal with it." and proceeds to lift her to take her back to the other apartment.

Cue music... da da da dum dum the stores...da da da dum dum times square...da da da dum dum (hello) city life...

We began dating a woman at work - she was actually married, though separated. But then we also started dating one of the flight attendants.

Frank's dad got sick at one point and they brought him into NYC to a hospital a few blocks from us. This meant that his mom moved in with us for over two months.

This put some pressure on our relationship and when his dad was released from the hospital Frank moved out and one of my fraternity brothers moved in.

Around this time, we also changed jobs and the "affair" with the married lady ended.

The relationship with the flight attendant also ended and she started dating my new roommate. It was a tad awkward at first, but they were happy and there was another woman in our life, another woman going through a divorce and who we worked with. This got serious and at a point, she moved in.

And then the flight attendant moved in also. The four of us living together.. sort of cozy wouldn't you say!

Now, none of them could cook a lick, so that was my responsibility. One night it was late when THE COUCH arrived home from work, and when we walked in the three of them were smiling like cheshire cats. "We have dinner all ready, we wanted to surprise you, it just needs to be cooked." Well this was a welcome thing, as the day had taken a lot out of us. So, walking into the kitchen something looks odd. They had "prepared" chicken parmigiana.

Only problem is they had layered raw chicken and covered it with cheese and gravy!

We ate very late that night as we had to take it all apart, clean the chicken and then start from scratch. It was the last time any of them were allowed in the kitchen except to clean up!

These were happy times.. but they would not last....

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON 11/27/06
An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2006 - VEMjr

"The Boy From New York City" - Episode 2

2010-09-17T00:01:00.008-05:00

When we last left our intrepid New Yorker, THE COUCH, he was living with his girlfriend , his second roommate, and his roommate’s girlfriend in the bedroom plus loft on 22nd Street in Manhattan.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

Chicken Fingers, Fries and Large Drink

$4.50

READ EPISODE ONE HERE

When we last left our intrepid New Yorker, THE COUCH, he was living with his girlfriend , his second roommate, and his roommate’s girlfriend in the bedroom plus loft on 22nd Street in Manhattan.

At this time, he was working on 6th Avenue and 56th Street in a big time advertising agency, running the Print Production department. It was a wild place to work in those days.

His boss was a workaholic/alcoholic who engulfed all around him to partake as he did.

THE COUCH, was one of those swept up in this whirlwind of creativity, debauchery and fogginess. Many work days began at 10:00 am or so. Upon arrival at work, he would go through all of the jobs that had been produced by his vendors during the evening hours…

THE COUCH NOTE: To try and explain better what our young hero actually did in the advertising agency, we will take a short journey away from our story for a bit.

The clients needed advertising (DOH), and this agency did TV, radio and print ads (ya know newspaper and magazine ads).

Well the creative department (art director and copywriting team) would develop an ad. The media people would decide where these ads would run.

Our young, struggling production hero would then have to figure out how many sizes of the ad were needed to fit all the publications (sometimes you could use the same size for multiple books), get the typography set (at that time done outside by a Type Shop) and then have the film (not film like a camera uses, but negative film- one for each of the four printing colors – black, cyan, magenta and yellow) produced by a “color separation house”

OK, how many of you have fallen off THE COUCH, your head about to explode?

Cutting to the chase (what the hell does that mean anyway???) our hero had to spec the type (decide what sizes were needed, what line lengths etc...) then color approve the proofs made from the film before it went to the publication…

So, when we arrive at work, go through the proofs, mark them up for color correction and then route them through the agency by a “traffic” person, getting comments and approvals from the other departments.

Then work on calling the publications, getting extensions where needed and other various mundane chores…except for some display items, print production does not have much creative input in the general agency setting.

At around 2:00 pm, a number of people would go out to lunch… Now lunch then included drinks…plural…times 4 …

Back to work around 4:30 or so, and at this time the salesman that THE COUCH, dealt with would begin wandering in to pick up their shop’s workload for the evening. On any given day, that would mean 4 – 7 sales people.

As each of these people walked in they would stop at the soda machine right inside the door to our floor. They would insert a quarter and press one of the two buttons that had no markings on them. Out would slide a can of beer…and then another. One for themselves and the other for our young professional.

As they walked into his office, they place a can in front of him and pop open theirs. THE COUCH, would slide open his bottom drawer and slide out the bottle of Jack Daniels and the cups he kept there.

Over the next 3 hours, work would get done, jokes would be told, competing sales people would bust each others chops…but always the work got done...well.

Sometime after 8 pm or so, all the sales people gone, it was time to move back across the street where our boss, and other members of his “group” had dinner and drank until midnight or so…then find a limo that was waiting for it’s evening fare to get done with dinner, slip the driver a ten dollar bill and get driven home.

This happened, for some, five nights a week...THE COUCH was there many nights in the beginning, but it changed later on...but we got the work done and we did it well.

We were voted the “Hot Shop” by Ad Age that year!

THE COUCH, also began a softball team at the agency and found a field for us to play on underneath the 59th Street Bridge (yup just like the song) on the Manhattan side. Every Monday, we would leave early and all walk across town to the field and play a team on our schedule. We were the envy of the advertising softball league because most teams needed to go way uptown to Randall’s Island to play.

After the game, off to one of the joints along First Avenue for dinner and beers.

Well, THE COUCH developed an alter-ego named Babe Stengle who did a weekly report on the games. Only a few people knew who The Babe was at first.

At the end of the season, we held a banquet where The Babe gave out awards. Our young coach had a cool rubber mask, added stuffing to his clothes and gloves and a wig TO COMPLETE THE ILLUSION.

Well, the drinks flowed pretty well that night and at about 11:30, THE COUCH, feeling no pain, went back across the street to get some things he had forgotten.

In the studio (where the creative assistants sat) were the two big bosses bent over a table looking at mock-ups for a pitch the next morning to a large camera company..

THE COUCH, moves between them and slobbers “Tha’s da wrong type font” and then staggers away.

Because of the big presentation we were in at 9 the next morning. A few minutes after sitting at my desk, wondering where those last few brain cells had gone, when one of the two bosses sticks his head in, looks me in the eye and says:

“DON'T ever come back to the office like that again…and you were correct, it was the wrong font…thanks.”

And walks out. Side note—they never got the account.

Another time, we were out with one of the brighter traffic people with me on a press approval (where you go to the printer and approve the color of the job while it is printing). This was for signage for a large fast food chain.

It was in the morning and we were done about 11. We got in a cab from downtown Manhattan and gave the driver an address on the east side of town in the 40’s. “Where are we going?”, THE COUCH was asked. “It is almost lunch time.”, was the reply.

When we got to the restaurant, my “protégée” went to the door and turned and said “Not open yet.”

THE COUCH, grinned that grin and walked to the door and knocked. The woman who owned the place broke into a smile and said “WELCOME, and who is your friend?”

After introductions, we went to the bar and she poured us a drink and my friend turned to me and said “So, this is how production people live...I want to do this!”

Over the next year or so, we worked together often and he eventually became head of production for the NY office of one of the largest agencies in the world!

Eventually, we left the job at the agency and went into print sales.

We mentioned the woman we were living with, well she worked at the agency also, and when we started dating, she was not real happy with my schedule, and as I mentioned above, the schedule did slow down, going home more nights then going out....

We would leave together in the morning and just be friendly on the bus to the office, as other employees took that bus often.

At night, she would normally leave before me and the nights when we did not get sucked into the void of the evening, would make my way home soon after.

Now, as we said…all things at home were going pretty well. She was not always happy with the over-indulgence of THE COUCH'S life style, and looking back, we are surprised she lasted as long as she did.

A case in point…The night we were to go to her sister’s birthday dinner and she had to come across the street to drag us out of the bar, stinking drunk. It ruined the evening for her sister, her and all concerned. This is one incident THE COUCH, highly regrets.

There was some great times also…Our friends were getting married up in the Thousand Islands in NY, just across from Canada.

We drove up with my best friend and his wife. It was a fun week, with many fraternity brothers around and great weather.

The night before the wedding, THE COUCH, walked into the gift shop at the resort and spotted a beautiful ring with a Sapphire stone (her favorite gem).

And they were engaged.

We rented speedboats that week and went barreling along the St. Lawrence Seaway. We visited Heart Island. A small island with where Boldt Castle can be found.

Originally designed to be a monument for his wife Louisa, George C. Boldt cancelled construction 4 years after beginning, when his love died suddenly.

Please go HERE to learn more about this tragic story and the history of the island.

The wedding was a blast and THE COUCH was a secondary official photographer and took some great pictures that the bride and groom used in their albums.

Back in the real world again, work consumed both she and THE COUCH. They began planning their wedding (which they were to pay for), and their life together.

Then word came that roommate and his girlfriend were also getting married. Everyone was happy.

One day roommate comes to THE COUCH and says “My fiancés parents are coming to NY to help us plan the wedding; they will be here for 3 weeks.”

THE COUCH had immediate flashbacks to the time with his first roommate’s mother being there and now, it would be even more crowded. The four roommates and the parents staying in the living room!

This can not happen, roommate was told. They have to go to a hotel. Two or three nights, ok…3 weeks, no way.

It was near Christmas and THE COUCH was out at a big supplier party when he got a page from home. Calling home to find out that parents are at the apartment with baggage and are unpacking as we speak!

Our drunken party-goer dashes home to confront roommate and a battle ensues. Roommate and THE COUCH do not talk for a few years, but eventually bury the hatchets and are great friends once again.

This incident caused all concerned to decide to move out of the apartment…and she and THE COUCH end up moving in THE COUCH'S parent’s home.

Mom and Dad are living in NYC 5 days a week, so it is not too bad.

Unfortunately, things do not work out and the relationship ends… semi-badly.

A fore-telling of the ruin of this relationship was the burning down of the hall they had selected for their marriage…

There are a few attempts at reconciliation, something always causes it not to happen and they go their separate ways.

Many years later THE COUCH does a Google and finds out that she now lives with someone "down-under" and through a few emails finds she and her daughter are wonderful and happy.

Now single, THE COUCH experiences the dating scene for the first time in a number of years….

WHAT WILL THE COUCH FIND...?

(A few loose springs?)

WILL THERE BE LURID DATING TALES...?

(My mom reads this!)

WHAT MYSTERIES LURK AROUND THE CORNER...?

(You buying any of this yet?)

WILL WE EVER FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GOOSE...?

(Wait…wrong story…)

FIND OUT NEXT WEEK WHEN WE ONCE AGAIN PRESENT...

THE BOY FROM NEW YORK CITY

EPISODE 3 - FINALE

The line between fact and fiction is often blurred by the tale and how it is spun...

Originally Published 12/04/06
An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2006 - VEMjr

"The Boy From New York City" - Episode 3

2010-09-16T00:01:00.122-05:00

He began visiting the local bar that had been his “home away from home” throughout his college years and afterward.

He began chatting with women he rode the train with.

He spent time in NYC on the weekends when possible and also going out to the Hampton’s on the weekends when it was summer.

So far in our tale...

You've heard

Tales of amazing advertising powers…

Prattle on the state of dating in NYC in the late ‘70’s/early ‘80’s…

Schmooze about nonsensical subjects…

In our last episode you should have learned

(if you were paying attention and not kissing in the balcony);

THE COUCH worked hard and partied hard at his job…
THE COUCH had a falling out with roommate #2…long ago resolved…
THE COUCH became engaged…
THE COUCH had vacated the apartment in the city to his parent’s home…
THE COUCH became unengaged…

PART ONE HERE
PART TWO HERE

Now, living home and commuting into the city, THE COUCH reentered the world of dating…

He began visiting the local bar that had been his “home away from home” throughout his college years and afterward.

He began chatting with women he rode the train with.

He spent time in NYC on the weekends when possible and also going out to the Hampton’s on the weekends when it was summer.

What he received in return was a lesson on life and an education to the bizzarro world of dating in the early 80’s.

We have thought about how this should be presented and have decided a case by case examination will make for the most comedic method…besides, the time line is a bit fuzzy as to the order…

These all happened in 1980, ‘81 and part of ’82…

1) OUI OUI…NO NO!

Out at a small pub in a neighboring town. The main street of this town ends at the wharf, which juts out into the Long Island Sound. A beautiful cozy place and this pub is right near the water.

Sitting at the bar with good HS friend, at one point THE COUCH looks over and there is an attractive woman near the jukebox. We walk over and ask “Anything good on there?” At which point she sits on the edge and says “Me.”

OK, the next move would have been to run, but nope…we began dating…

Her family owned an old beach house overlooking The Sound on a bluff, where she lived full time. A great old house, not well kept, but very livable.

Problem was all of these $1-million dollar homes had sprung up all around it and it did stick out some…so, her neighbors were always being rude.

She was French and though she shaved body hair like American women, she tended to go along with that “don’t shower often” myth that exists. Wasn’t a myth…maybe 3 times a week for her…

She would complain that the girls at her work would put air fresheners near her locker. We tried to explain but it didn’t go far…

After about three weeks, one evening she began to describe how congested she gets at night and when she showers she clears this congestion out and began describing the substance of it, and other things about it….We did not see each other after that day…

Lesson One…Women who make stupid pickup lines and don’t shower enough are not dateable.

2) WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MY PROOFS?

Traveling home one day on the train, sitting in a situation where two seats face each other. As the train pulls out of the station a very attractive young lady sits opposite.

THE COUCH is reading a book, and notices she is looking at photo proofs.

“Are you a photographer?” she is asked. “No, I do some modeling and these are new
head shots.”

“Ah, interesting.” And back to the book, because you want to seem uninterested*…

*SOURCE: Book of Dating by Y. Ulistentom

A few minutes later… “That must be an interesting book.” “Well, I am almost done and when that happens I tend to get engrossed. Sorry.”

“Do you commute every day?” She says as she cocks her head at that angle that guys normally take to be flirting.

The book is forgotten almost immediately. “Yes I do, every day. Luckily I was able to get out a bit early today.” “Really, what do you do?” he is asked. “Well, I work in advertising.”

At this point he introduces himself and she responded in kind.

“Oh, that must be interesting, are you involved with selecting talent for your ads…would you like to see my proofs?”

“Of course I would, but I don’t have anything to do with the selection process.”

He takes the proffered sheets and looks at a series of excellent photographs in evening gowns and dresses. Lifting the top sheet to see the strips on the sheet below, he hopes his face does not give him away as the photos reveal almost all there is to reveal of the woman sitting across, who, he realizes, is smiling at him!

“Great shots, where have you been published?” The woman mentions some catalogs and one department store.

It ends up that they get off the train at the same stop and actually live in the same town. She, being younger and from the other high school, does not know his siblings.

Dates begin. A movie here, a dinner there.

Then one night she is invited to the house for a home cooked meal…one of his loves. The meal went well, but what was made is a distant memory.

Sitting out on the screened in porch afterward, talking about the whatever. A kiss here and a kiss there…and then…

“Hey I need to tell you something.” She says. “Sure, anything.”

“Well ya see, when we met, I had been dating this guy for like 4 years and we had broken up, but we spoke last night and we are going to try again.”

Does anyone hear crickets?

“Well, OK…………..good luck with that, would you like dessert or would you like me to take you home?”

“I think home would be the best.” Model-lady said.

Lesson #2 - All that shines is not gold.

3) WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEXT TUESDAY?

Good friend mentions his gf has a sister…..alarm bells should go off, but all we hear is a tiny tinkle…

We all meet for dinner. Sister is very nice, funny and cute. Friend gf is a stunner.

Sister and I go out over the next few weeks, always having a good time. Diner, movies, she comes over and I cook…OK, this is nice.

“Hey, tomorrow, can you come over; I want you to meet someone.” “OK” says THE COUCH.

Show up the next day and her dad lets me in. Sitting in living room and chatting with dad when in walks sister, with a toddler following behind. She comes over and sits on the couch (not THE COUCH, just the couch) and smiles and says “I want you to meet my son.”

“ummmm, hi?” is all we could manage at the moment.

I love kids…just don’t like them pulled out from behind door #2!

“Com-onnnnnnnnnnnnnn Down”

But, it isn’t look like this is anything serious. So, I go with the flow and a week later, sitting in the car chatting after a movie…

“Did you enjoy the movie?” she is asked.

“So, you like my son right? Well he needs a father figure…so I am getting back together with his father. We are moving in together tomorrow.”

Bwah Wah Wah…..sorry you end up with the chicken and pig behind the door you selected!

Lesson #3: Always look behind door #2.

4) NEW TO DATING

Home for a few weeks one summer in college and wanted to hear a band we were thinking of promoting up in Rochester.

It was raining lightly as we drove to the club, one we were familiar with and they knew THE COUCH.

I see a car on the side of the road flashers on and a person with a flashlight. It was still partially light out, so we pulled over.

Ends up there is a second guy also and our radar went up for a second…

Turns out they had a flat and no jack, so in about 5 minutes they have a tire change.

As they say goodbye I shake hands with the passenger and then the driver and when my hand comes away there is money. Without looking we decline but the driver was already getting in the car and driving away.

Getting back into our car we look at the folded bills to see two twenties!

Finish the drive to the club and say hello to the owner and bartenders. Sit at the bar before the band takes the stand and having a beer. Chatting with the bartender and catching up, asking about the band.

When the band comes on I take a seat at a table near the rear. The place is pretty crowded and when a group of 4 women (girls? – 20 or so ), asks if they can share the table, and being the gentleman we were raised to be welcome them.

Wedding bands on 2, no band on the other two. An extra $40 in our pocket we buy a few rounds throughout the evening.

One of the not married says "So, you are a concert promoter, I heard you talking to the bartender." Smiling, "Not really a concert promoter, just help a friend scout bands to bring upstate." Conversation flows easily.

At the end of the night we are invited to follow to her place right down the road for a nightcap.

Pull into the driveway, and go in through the garage into a family room.

We are there for about 20 minutes or so, and things are beginning to get more comfortable when a voice from upstairs “Is that you?”

As she signals to be quiet, “Yes, it’s me...close the door.”

Door closes…

My eyeballs must be doing like in the cartoons, going around my head appearing and then disappearing. “Your dad?”

There are those damn crickets again…

“Should I leave?”

“Well, it might be for the best, I didn’t expect him home.”

Head begins to swivel making looking for the nearest exit…

“Your Dad?”, more urgently this time...remain calm…

“No..." (“OH S**T PLEASE DON'T SAY THAT!”)

"My husband, but-we-are-separated-we-just-can’t-afford-a-second-place....”

This last said fast as I headed out the door…I didn’t hear what else she said…

Lesson #4: Always look for that extra car in the driveway.

INTERLUDE

Around this time, we were sitting watching one of those dating shows that was on at that time.

Couple goes on a date, comes back, talks about it, and decides if they want to do it again. Chuck Woollery was the host.. Name of the dang show escapes me…

So, guy comes on and is talking to good confidant Chuck (who will never tell a soul!) that he has had some problems with dating.

Chuck, the original Dr. Phil, comforts him and asks what he means.

Well, this guy explains, every time he dates a girl she goes back to her husband or boyfriend…

The crowd goes wild as Chuck says something like “Well do you realize what this show is about.”

Now THE COUCH begins a big laugh, but it is calmed a bit, because...well didn’t that happen to him…twice already?

BACK TO OUR STORY

Over the next month we had three more dates. By the end of the night for each, we found out:

One had a boyfriend who was in boot camp for the Marines and he would be home the next week…
One was separated and confused over what to do…(she did go back)
One who was a total lunatic who complained about her ex half the night and explaining why she would take him back the other half.

What was that guy’s name on that show???.......

5) HOPING TO MEET QUICKLY

Back on the good old Long Island Railroad. Coming home late one night…

Woman across the aisle says “Excuse me may I read part of your paper?”
“Sure, what section?”

“Are you done with the sports?” PERK!

Though we were just about to read them, “Sure, here you go.” As he hands over the requested pages, he makes an introduction and she replies in kind.

A few minutes later, “I can’t believe the Yankees this year.” PERK!

THE COUCH NOTE: That would put this at 1982 when the Yankees went 80-82. The year of the three headed manager with Bob Lemon, Gene Michael & Clyde King each taking their turn. It was September and they were already far out of the race.

“It has been difficult going to games this year.” Replies THE COUCH.

“Oh, do you go often?” she inquires.

“I actually have a stake of a season ticket package and get to go to 20-25 games a year.”

“That must be nice when they are playing well!” Laughter…

We exchange phone numbers and two days later she calls. “Do something Saturday? Sure…AH new comedy club, yes sounds like fun. Ok we’ll pick you up at 8.”

That Saturday was a blast. She liked the music same music, loved the Yankees…was very pretty and seemed normal in everyway possible. She had a great job as a lawyer in Manhattan.

The next Wednesday we had tickets to the Yankees and invited her.

She accepted and we had another great evening. Took the train home and she left at her station.

Monday she calls. Can we have lunch on Thursday; she is flying with her grandmother to Florida, for her yearly move down south.

How nice, she loves her family. PERK!

Plans are made to meet at a restaurant he uses regularly for business. A great Italian place on the east side of the City.

As they planned on meeting at 2, his normal table was being used. They sat at a table by the window and had a great lunch. A bottle of wine…some dessert.

As dessert was finishing up a call comes and it is THE COUCH's best friend.

He is two blocks away, so "come on over and let me introduce you". He is always a good gauge.

The three of them sit and have another bottle of wine and have a good time talking. It is time for her to head to Queens to grandma's house. And the skies open up. Torrential rainstorm. Cabs will now be impossible

THE COUCH calls for a limo. When it arrives she and THE COUCH head out, and plans are made to meet up with best friend after she is dropped off.

The ride to Queens is the ultimate limo fantasy. The privacy screen up the whole time.

Drop her off with plans to talk the following week.

THE COUCH is feeling good over the weekend.

Then on Tuesday he calls her home.

Her mother answers. Now we have not met yet, but when THE COUCH announces who is calling, mom’s voice lifts in recognition.

“OH hello, "she" has mentioned you!”

OOOOO not bad….

Mom begins to speak once again…“Now …”

WAIT FOR IT…

We can make up some things, but then there are things that you can not make up….

WAIT FOR IT…

“I am not sure it makes sense for you to call anymore…”

Where the hell did those damn crickets come from now???

WAIT FOR IT…

“because you know …

WAIT FOR IT…

“...she is on her honeymoon and probably can’t see you again.”

OK, call the exterminator these crickets are on my nerves…

Now we can almost guarantee we said something and then mom responded, but for the life of me it is just "yadda yadda yadda" with the sound of the ocean crashing in my ears…

Lesson #5 - Ah hell ain't no lesson to be taught!

What was that guy’s name on that dating show???

I can open up the east coast franchise for what – in my mind – was formally named “Get her Back”.

Where our motto is “Having a problem with your girlfriend or wife? Let us date her…three times, tops and she is back in your arms. Money-back guarantee…Good Housekeeping Seal Of APPROVAL.”

The next day we decided we just accept being an uncle…and forget this whole dating thing.

6) EVEN A BLIND SQUIRREL FINDS AN ACORN

It was now about 5 months later and we have not had more then one date with any person.

As we mentioned last Thursday…we were dragged to a get together by our best friends and ended up being the 7th wheel.Two married couples and one couple who were dating and ME! Weehooo

The women in the third (dating) couple was attractive, but I walked away not even remembering her name.

The couple whose house it was, were about to move out to Long Island close to THE COUCH, so we promised to stay in touch.

When they had settled in we made plans to go out one Friday night, the three of us.

What a great night, we had fun dancing and getting to know each other better. It is now the end of the night, last call, and as we walk out, THE COUCH blurts out “Hey, what’s the deal with the blonde that was at your apartment that time?”

“Oh, yes, well she and that guy broke up, we never knew what she saw in him”, says wife. “Why, would you like us to set you up, she and I are best friends.”

Hummm are you calling in a favor? Second class merchandise…we’ll help you out?

The brain is a funny thing.

“Sure, that would be fun.”

THE COUCH NOTE: We had never dated a blonde in our life. Nothing planned just the way it worked.

Plans are made for the Friday evening after Thanksgiving. We drive over to friend’s house and talking with husband. Down the stairs comes wife trailed by the blonde, who has on a great dress with a floral print design. Even prettier then we remembered.

Dinner is great, everyone talking….laughing…

Afterward out to dance.

Friend’s are going home, and since they are right down the road, if I want to stay over there is room.

Blonde and I decide we will be back in a bit and stay awhile longer.

Back to the house we stay up talking…kissing.

At around 5:00 am, THE COUCH drives home, takes a shower, drives back and she and he drive to the beach and go for a walk and watch the sunrise.

We date; she joins me at my company holiday party. In January, THE COUCH asks if she wanted to get married. Allyson answers yes. But, says THE COUCH, "I need to ask your dad before you say anything."

Next Saturday, THE COUCH walks to parent’s bedroom where dad is getting ready to go out. “May I speak with you, OH I am sorry, you are getting dressed.”

“No, come on in.” Dad-in-law was a fun guy and is standing there in a shirt, socks and his boxers.

“No, really, I can come back.”

“It is fine.”

OK, here goes… “Um Mr. S. I was hoping you would give me your blessing to marry Allyson.”

“Wait, I think I do need my pants on for this.”

He dons his pants and approves.

The days of dating are over for THE COUCH….

THE END

We want to add a post script to the tale of "Hoping To Meet Quickly", the story of meeting the lawyer who married...

It was now about 24 months later and THE COUCH was at his desk at work.

Phone rings and he answers. female voice. "Hi, how are you?"

"Ummm, OK and you?"

She asks, "You don't know who this is do you?"

"Actually, no clue."

"Well, I will give you a hint...you took me on a limo ride once."

Now, this, as a hint, was not going to cut it,

"Ummm, you have to be more specfic then that."

"You mean you took other women in limos?"

Beginning to get a bit annoyed at this game, "Well, I guess that is what it means, now who exactly is this?"

Then it comes out. She tells us her name and how she was so sorry at what happened, and how her girlfriend told her that she should have called off the wedding and given us a chance. Then she says it... yup, you guessed it...

"Well, you know, I filed for a divorce last week, and I am living in the city now. Would you like to come over this afternoon?"

THE COUCH has married at this point, but because of what happened with this woman - for a split second - the little brain says "Yeah go over, give her what she wants and then leave and tell her never to bother you again."

Big head prevails, "Sorry, I got married...have a good life..." click

Maybe SHE heard the crickets!

Originally Published 12/11/06
An Original Work ~~Of Fiction~~ Copyright 2006 - V.E.M.

Couch Matinee: "ROAD TRIP"

2010-09-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

The party was in Pennsylvania...a small town in the middle of nowhere. The summer had been going great. Working as a life guard at the local pool, the tan was a solid bronze and he had met a few nice ladies (girls) who admired him more for the fact that he was a lifeguard then his looks.

At 19, who cared why they liked him, all he cared about was he had dates most night of the week.

So, back to the party...he was meeting his friends in Westchester at Jamie's house. They were all planning on driving together and planned to have some fun before even getting to the party. There was Gary, who had come down from upstate NY

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

Buckets Of Beer

10 for $10

The party was in Pennsylvania...a small town in the middle of nowhere. The summer had been going great. Working as a life guard at the local pool, the tan was a solid bronze and he had met a few nice ladies (girls) who admired him more for the fact that he was a lifeguard then his looks.

At 19, who cared why they liked him, all he cared about was he had dates most night of the week.

So, back to the party...he was meeting his friends in Westchester at Jamie's house. They were all planning on driving together and planned to have some fun before even getting to the party. There was Gary, who had come down from upstate NY and they were going in his car...Jamie and his girlfriend Nikki, PaulVal and CJ, the lifeguard. 6 of them in that big old Buick. It would be tight, but hey...summer...fun...booze and some weed and what more can you want in life.

As they left Jamie's house, they stopped at the local deli and picked up 3 cases of beer...didn't want to run out or anything, did they?

Now, the question was, who was going to drive out of the city? Gary had already been smoking a few on his own, so he didn't want to be the chauffer. Paul took the wheel...they must have been young and stupid for sure! SO, they had Paul driving, and Gary in the center and CJ was in the shotgun seat. In the back, Jamie, Nikki and Val behind the driver.

Joints lit, beers open, they are off on their adventure. They drove down the NY Thruway and took the ramp to the George Washington Bridge. As they are getting to the other side (THE JERSEY SIDE), CJ looks up and sees Paul is in the wrong lane and has taken the wrong off-ramp. "Paul, we were supposed to be over there" CJ shouts and everyone groans.
"No problem", is Paul's reply and he cuts the wheel to the right and heads for one of those openings in the guard rail. You know, the opening that is just barely wide enough to let a car go straight through and Paul was going to try and cut the angle.

Horns blare as Paul cuts across two lanes of traffic and then, miraculously, through the guard rail. As they get through, CJ looks to his right and sees the Winnebago barreling down on them and begins to see his 19 years flash in front of his eyes. He can barely hear Nikki's scream above Paul's insane laugh as Paul cuts across two more lanes of traffic and hits the exit ramp at over 60 miles per hour...tire squeeling.

Paul continues laughing, but everyone is now shouting about what an insane lunatic he is and that there was no way he was going to continue driving. They made Paul pull over and Jamie got behind the wheel and Paul slid in the back on the drivers side, putting Val on the hump (which he complained about until someone shoved another beer and a joint into his mouth) with Gary moving into the back next to the passenger window and Nikki taking the middle seat between CJ and Jamie.

Jamie hadn't been drinking, so they felt a bit more comfortable with him behind the wheel. Everyone continued to slam down beers and a joint was in constant circulation over the next few hours. It had gotten dark and they were almost to the NJ/Pennsylvania border. They were going to cross at the Phillipsburg/Easton crossing. One of their fraternity brothers lived in Phillipsburg, but there was not room for Corky, so they kept driving.

It is now near midnight as they cross into Easton, PA and from the back seat comes a groan, alerting them all to an unpleasent possibility.

The blast of air in the car alerted them to the fact that Paul had rolled down the window (yes, a crank not an electric window), and Paul's head was outside and the sounds of him depositing his share of the beer onto the highway could be heard.

Almost immediately, another sound was heard...the sound of the police cruiser that had pulled out from behind the gas station they had just passed! "Everyone hide the joints!" Gary shouted.

Jamie pulled into a parking lot and the cruiser follwed them in. The officer, a local Easton cop, not a Pennsylvania trooper, climbed out of his car and made his way to the drivers window.

Jamie rolled down his window, "Evening officer, was I speeding?" "No, son, but your friend was decorating the side of your car and the road with his vomit...is he ok?"

"Yes, sir, we are sorry, we are on our way to a party in Hamburg and, well, Paul had a few drinks before we left and got car sick."

"I see, well show me your license and everyone else, how about some ID" was the office's response. Jamie pulled out his license and the rest grabbed theirs and handed them over. In the back seat Paul opens the door and barfs again.

"This your car son?" asked the officer. From the back, Gary replies, "No sir, it is mine."
"Can I see the registration."

Gary says to CJ in the front, "Hey it is in the glove compartment." So CJ opens the glove box and starts rumbling through it. "Can't find it Gary."

Gary opens the back door and as he does the cop comes around to the passenger side. As Gary opens the front passenger door about 8 beer cans come tumbling on to the pavement. You see the beer cans were so high on the floor, CJ's feet were on the cans and not the floor by that point.

The officers light shines down and a small shake of his head can be seen. "Been doing some drinking?" he looks up and says.

"Well sir, we are all from the same college, the same fraternity in fact, except for Nikki, and we are on our way to a big summer bash, and well...I guess we started a bit too early" answers CJ.

"Same college, huh?" says the officer. "Yes sir" and they all grabbed their college IDs and hand them to him.

In the meantime, Gary is rummaging through the glove compartment as he leans into the car. "Where is that registration?" he mumbles and reaches, once more for his wallet. As he opens it, a joint tumbles out. Gary, thinking quickly, proceeds to dump the entire contents of his wallet on top of the joint, grabbing the regsitration, which had been in the wallet the whole time, and hands that to the officer. Gary and CJ, proceed to bend over and pick up the beer cans, the papers and silently, the joint and throw it all into the car and the glove compartment.

The officer looks at all the licenses and IDs and the registration and straightens himself up to his full 6'4" height and flashes his light into the car once more.

From the front, CJ smiles and says "Officer, Jamie has not been drinking the whole time, which is why he is driving sir." The officer says "Is that right?"

From the car comes a chorus of "YES SIR!" Except for Paul who is barfing on the side of the road once again.

As he hands all the paperwork and IDs to Gary, the officer looks into the car again and says...

"I suggest you use that dumpster over there to get rid of all of these empties and also not make any more empties before you reach your destination...you never know if you might get stopped by a cop."

He touches his hat with his fingers and walks back to his car and drives off.

They all sit there in silence...until the first giggle starts and then the entire group is in an uproar laughing. They did empty the car, they didn't drink another beer until they reached Hamburg and the rest of the weekend was a blast...but NOTHING they did that weekend compared to that 10 minutes on the side of the road in Easton, PA.

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental - well, maybe not so coincidental, but ssssssssssh
Originally Published On 8/29/06

Couch Matinee: "HER FATE" Episode 1

2010-09-13T00:01:00.002-05:00

As Charles Jordan left the cab at LAX, he looked back and sighed knowing he was leaving the warmth of LA for a 10” blizzard in Boston.

Smiling, Charles counted the eighteen days before his two week vacation to the Dominican Republic with his current girlfriend Lisa. Fourteen days of lying around, golf, swimming in the pool, snorkeling in the blue waters of the Caribbean, food & drink and Lisa. They could have rented a smaller villa then “Casa Cosmopolitana,” with its three bedrooms, but Charles wanted a pool and to be near the golf course...

OK...just follow the car in front of you and please take the next available spot...

The Concession Stand is open for your enjoyment...

Everyone have a drink? popcorn? candy? Good, good...
Please remember to not chatter during the show and disturb your neighbors.

Sound is ready...Roll 'em

As Charles Jordan left the cab at LAX, he looked back and sighed knowing he was leaving the warmth of LA for a 10” blizzard in Boston.

Smiling, Charles counted the eighteen days before his two week vacation to the Dominican Republic with his current girlfriend Lisa. Fourteen days of lying around, golf, swimming in the pool, snorkeling in the blue waters of the Caribbean, food & drink and Lisa. They could have rented a smaller villa then “Casa Cosmopolitana,” with its three bedrooms, but Charles wanted a pool and to be near the golf course...

Entering Terminal 7 for his United Air flight Charles looked at his watch and realized he had an hour and a half before boarding. Charles was surprised at how quickly he made it through the security check-point. Traveling had been slowly changing since 9/11 and for someone like Charles that meant constantly adapting to the changing conditions.

He now owned a collection of clear plastic one-ounce bottles for all of his liquid toiletries. When going to an airport, he always wore loafer type shoes to avoid having to tie shoelaces. But without fail, there would be someone in the line with a gallon bottle of shampoo, 3 bottles of water and a Swiss army knife that they got from their great grandfather and would not part with causing the entire line to back up.

Today, however, he moved straight through and walked into the bar directly across from his gate. Sliding onto a bar stool, Charles smiled at the bartender a woman of about twenty-five and said, “Gentleman Jack two ice cubes please.” “Coming right up,” she smiled back and poured the drink. Placing it in front of Charles she asked “So, where are you heading today?” “Unfortunately, leaving the warmth of LA for the snow of Boston.”

Charles took a sip of the drink and closed his eyes for a second, smiling. At 36 he was the Chief Marketing Officer of Yardoff Publishing or YAPUB as it was called after its stock symbol. He earned a salary in the mid six figures and his yearly bonus would exceed that this year; Charles was on his way to retiring at 50 and trying to qualify at the PGA Champions Tour. A scratch golfer, he hoped to spend the following twenty years doing what he loved most. Play golf, be outdoors, travel, and party and be in a position to meet beautiful women.

His eyes still closed, Charles felt the presence of someone taking the stool next to his and opened them to look. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” said the red-haired beauty. “No,” Charles chuckled, “I was just basking in a good trip. May I buy you a drink to help me celbrate?”
“I disturbed you; it should be me buying you a drink in apology. My name is Barbara, Barbara Stewart.” She said as she extended her hand.

Charles was pleasantly surprised when he offered his hand to shake, Barbara took hold in a firm grip, one shake, and release. The perfect handshake, in Charles’ opinion. “Charles Jordan, a pleasure to meet you Barbara Stewart. Please let me buy the first.” And he signaled the bartender, who didn’t smile half as much this time as she eyed the redhead making “googily” eyes at the handsome customer.

“Another for me and …what will you have?”
“Vodka and Tonic please,” Barbara said as she fixed the bartender with a glare. Charles caught this little exchange and could not help but smile.

This was a new occurrence, as Charles was never considered a ladies man. That had all changed two years before when Alexander Yardoff, the scion of the Yardoff family had taken notice of a young, aggressive but scruffy account manager for the advertising agency YAPUB used.

“Mr. Yardoff,” as Charles still called the old man, had a complete makeover ordered. A physical trainer was hired, a new hair style, even a complete set of caps, and Charles was ready to be groomed for the CMO position.

Over the next two years, Mr. Yardoff and his wife, BettyAnn, began including Charles in their social circle. Introducing him to their friends and the higher level business associates Charles needed to know.

With two children who had never shown any interest in the corporation, the Yardoffs’ knew they needed a creative mind to help lead YAPUB to the next level. Alexander had just celebrated his 73rd birthday and BettyAnn her 60th. She had been in finance at YAPUB and had risen to the position of CFO prior to retiring at 58.

When Alexander’s first wife, the mother of his children, Sara had passed 10 years before he had asked BettyAnn for dinner a month later. At the suggestion BettyAnn had scolded him on his lack of dignity.

A year later to the day, Alexander walked into her office and asked her to dinner and she accepted. They were married two years later. Alexander’s children liked BettyAnn and when they heard the story of her initial rejection, they were even happier.

Alexander Yardoff’s father, Benjamin had begun Yardoff Publishing in 1890 as a twenty year old. He bought a small printing press and setting it up in the garage of his home he began to print materials for the Boston Public Schools. Then as he grew, he worked in collaboration with two high school teachers and they put out a line of books for schools.

Within 5 years, their books were being used as curriculum in schools across the country and Yardoff Publishing ran 3 printing plants across the country. Over the years, they expanded to grammar schools and even some college textbooks.

A unique business plan gave YAPUB an advantage other traditional publishers did not have. Benjamin had drilled into his son that “You must own the manufacturing and most of your product must be home grown.” YAPUB never sold its printing operations to the large conglomerates that came calling and its staff of authors had grown over the years. These professionals knew they would have more control of the product and could experiment with new teaching techniques more readily then if they freelanced for other publishers.

YAPUB had also seen the future in CDs and then DVDs and had begun to digitize their entire catalog of books. Thus being the first to offer this new technology to the school districts and opening up new avenues of revenue.

The business Charles had just purchased was a replication plant for both CDs and DVDs continuing the philosophy of “owning the manufacturing.” The deal will save over $4-million the first year alone.

Charles was pulled back to reality by the cooing of “Penny for your thoughts.” He turned to see that Barbara’s glass was nearly empty. “Where did you go to that time?” she asked.

“Sorry, it’s been a long, but fruitful trip and I guess I was just reviewing the details. So, tell me what do you do Ms. Stewart?”

Over the next 10 minutes Barbara described her job as a fashion buyer for one of the largest department stores in the world. Her specialty was lingerie, which elicited the obligatory laugh between the two. Single, she lives in LA and was on her way to Boston to visit her sister and brother-in-law. They had just bought a townhouse on Charles Street, just off of Beacon, a block from the Boston Commons, and Barbara was on her way to celebrate her sister’s 30th birthday. Barbara did let slip that she was not looking forward to hitting that hurtle in two years.

Charles inquired what Barbara’s sister and husband did for a living. The address they had just purchased would be priced somewhere north of $10-million. He was a bit surprised to hear they were the owners of two pubs in town. A bar can do well, but not $10-million town home well, but Charles knew when to hold his tongue and did. He thought he knew the exact town home, from when he was looking for a place and remembered the price being higher at that time.

In the end, he was very happy with his condo on the water, overlooking the Boston harbor.

A few minutes later, their plane was called for boarding. Charles grabbed both checks and paid, leaving the disappointed bartender with a $20 tip, which soothed some of her pain.

The boarded the plane together and found they were both in first class, across the aisle from each other.

Through the early part of the flight, they chatted and shared stories. Barbara and her sister hadn’t seen each other in over 5 years, and this was to be a great homecoming.

After dinner, Charles excused himself and put his seat back and closed his eyes. The red-eye was his least favorite flight, but if he could sleep for half the flight he found it didn’t hit him too hard.

His eyes opened as the plane tires tapped onto the runway. Charles opened his eyes and yawned. Looking at his watch, he saw they were actually about 20 minutes early.

“Morning,” Barbara said from across the aisle. “Morning, did you sleep?” Charles asked.

“Not as well as you did,” Barbara said laughing “you did a little snoring there at the end!”

“My apologies,” Charles said with embarrassment. “Can I offer you a ride to your sister’s? I have a car waiting and it is only about 10 blocks from me.” “If I am not putting you out, I will accept that ride.” Barbara answered.

They left the plane and walked to the baggage area. As they waited for their bags, Charles called to make sure John his driver was in the area. John worked for the car service YAPUB used when they needed a car or limo. Charles had a standing request for John to always be his driver and they had formed a bond over the last couple of years.

When they had their bags, they made their way outside and Charles immediately saw the car. John pulled to the curb and popped open the trunk. Charles opened the back door for Barbara and then put their bags into the trunk. When he was done he slid into the backseat alongside her.

“Morning John, how is it you are always right there waiting when I come out? No matter when, you are always just pulling to the curb. It is like you teleport in.” “Well Mr. Jordan, it helps when you were on the job for twenty years and trained most of the cops on the beat. They let you get away with murder.” John used the “Mr. Jordan” as he always did when someone else was in the car.

“John this is Barbara and we will be dropping her off first.” Charles then gave the address and John pulled away from the curb and began the drive into downtown Boston, which at this hour of the morning, rush hour, and the snow would be long and arduous.

An hour later, they had made the four mile journey. People talk about the traffic in LA or New York, but for Charles’ money, Boston was the worst. He figured that is what happens when you just pave the cow paths and don’t lay out a cohesive plan.

John jumped out and grabbed Barbara’s bag from the trunk. “It was a pleasure meeting you and depending upon your plans, maybe we can meet for dinner or drinks while you are in town.” Charles spoke as he extended a business card.

Barbara leaned over, took the car and left a small kiss on his right cheek. “That would be nice; here is my card with my cell number. Give me a call in a day or two. I am here for 12 days.”

As she slid out of the car, she waved and the door closed. A minute later, John opened the front door and slid in. “Nice looking lady, Charles.” He said as he put the car in drive and pulled away. “Yes, nice looking,” Charles said as he picked up his phone and began dialing.

“Sally, hi it’s me, what do I have on tap this morning?” As his executive assistant went through his morning (which she had thankfully kept light), he heard an incoming call beep. Taking the phone from his ear he glanced at the number and recognized the LA area code, but not the number. “Call you back Sally,” he said as he punched the flash button. “Charles Jordan,” he answered.

On the other end, he heard a woman sobbing and said hello again. Then the voice said “Charles, I am so sorry, but no one answered and I tried the door and it was unlocked so I thought Mary had left it unlocked for me and they would be still asleep and I went to the kitchen and everything is all over and the chairs and table are on the floor and I think there is blood and I don’t know what to do..”

As Charles listened, he finally put together that he was speaking with Barbara and Mary must be her sister and obviously something was wrong. “John, back to where we just dropped Barbara off, and hurry.” Charles spoke.

John hit the brakes almost causing an accident and made a sharp right to make the turn back to where they had come. As they drove, Charles kept Barbara on the phone trying to calm her while telling John everything he could gleam from the woman sobbing hysterically on the other end of the phone.

When they got back to the townhouse Charles said “Hey John you better bring that police training I think.”

They bounded up the stairs and as they were about to go through he door, John put his hand up in front of Charles and withdrew a gun from somewhere under his jacket. Charles gave him a look and John whispered “Just like a boy scout, always prepared.” And he moved through the front door. They could hear Barbara still sobbing in the kitchen and made their way through the living room, which appeared to be totally undisturbed.

The kitchen was another story. Broken plates, remnants of a breakfast and that day’s issue of the Boston Globe were scattered all over.

Barbara was sitting in the corner, with her hands over her face, crying. Charles went to open a cupboard to get a glass to bring her some water when John’s voice stopped him. “Boss, I wouldn’t touch anything, evidence and all. We probably shouldn’t even be in the house, no less the kitchen.”

Charles went over to Barbara and helped her off the floor and led her into the living room where he sat her on a chair.

As he did that, John began walking through the townhouse. When he came back he signaled Charles over. “The bedroom looks worse then the kitchen and there is more blood up there. Let me call this in, we need to alert the police.”

Turning, he began to dial 911 on his cell phone…

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - VEMjr
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 1/8/07

Couch Matinee: "HER FATE" Episode 2

2010-09-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

Paul Angelino grew up in the Bronx, NY. His family had been in the Bronx for three generations, ever since his great grandfather and great grandmother had sailed over on a crowded, filthy ship to find a better life in the “land of opportunity” in America in 1920. Nineteen year old newlyweds, sailing into New York harbor and seeing the Statue of Liberty, Giovanni and Amelia Angelino held each other tight and cried tears of joy.

Paul had visited Ellis Island in 2002 to view their names on the “Wall of Honor” after having their names added the year before. It gave him chills to see his great grandparents honored with tens of thousands of other people who made their way to the United States over the years.

Please do not leave spaces ...park next to the car in front of you.
Concession Special this week:
extra large popcorn and a large ice cold Pepsi-Cola for $1.75

There were some complaints about noise from some of our older guests...
Angell, keep down the talking this week please.

Part One HERE

Paul Angelino grew up in the Bronx, NY. His family had been in the Bronx for three generations, ever since his great grandfather and great grandmother had sailed over on a crowded, filthy ship to find a better life in the “land of opportunity” in America in 1920. Nineteen year old newlyweds, sailing into New York harbor and seeing the Statue of Liberty, Giovanni and Amelia Angelino held each other tight and cried tears of joy.

Paul had visited Ellis Island in 2002 to view their names on the “Wall of Honor” after having their names added the year before. It gave him chills to see his great grandparents honored with tens of thousands of other people who made their way to the United States over the years. He had never met either of his paternal grand-grandparents. They had both passed away before his birth, Amelia in 1980 after a bad fall, and Giovanni in 2005, after a fulfilling 104 years.

His childhood on Lurting Avenue was something Paul would not change for all the money in the world. His was a tight knit family. Paul grew up in an attached two family home just down from Morris Park Avenue. He lived with his mother and father, Maria and Salvatore and two sisters, Genevieve (who everyone called Jenny) and JoanRose. Paul was the middle child, with Jenny, two years older and JoanRose two-years younger.

Growing up, Salvatore’s parents lived in the other side of their home. In 2005, when Giovanni, Jr. passed away they moved in Paul’s maternal grandparents, Alfonzo & Mary Abunti. Both in their eighties, they were still able to care for themselves, though Maria and Salvatore had taken the car keys from them when they moved in.

Alfonzo & Mary had a difficult life, and their daughter Maria strived to make sure they were comfortable in their twilight years. Maria had two siblings. Alfredo, or Al as he was known, had been killed in action in Vietnam in 1965. Her sister Celia had married Joseph “Joey Smiles” Combino, which had upset the entire family. Joey Smiles was part of the Carlucci family in New York. A low level soldier, Joey had risen in the ranks over the years.

As the years went by, the tensions lessened some, as Joey took such good care of Celia. They had a home on City Island which looked out at Hart Island. Unfortunately their one child, Joey, Jr. had developed a drug habit and, in 1999 during an armed robbery of a bodega in Manhattan, had shot and wounded the clerk. Using the store security cameras and the testimony of the clerk, Joey, Jr. was identified, arrested, put on trial and was sentenced to a 20-life term in 2002. He was sent to Sing Sing with a possibility of parole in 2022 when he would be 49 years old.

Across the street, in a single family home were Aunt Annilynn and her husband, Vincent Costello. Paul grew up playing with his cousin MaryElizabeth, who was the same age as Jenny. His other three cousins were younger, Joseph who was four years younger would tag along when he was twelve and Paul 16, and Paul watched out for him on the streets. The other two cousins were Alex who was 6 years younger and Candice, who was 16 years younger then Paul. Paul could remember as a 15 year old, how strange he felt for his cousin MaryElizabeth when she told him she would be having another sibling as she turned 17.

As did his sisters and cousins, Paul attended St Xavier on Haight Avenue and then headed to Fordham Prep as his sisters attended St. Raymond Academy High School. During high school, Paul decided he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. Salvatore was a chef and had worked in restaurants all over the Bronx as Paul was growing up. For the last 10 years, he worked at Frankie & Johnnies Pine Tavern on Bronxdale Avenue. The Pine was a popular spot for NY Yankees and teams coming into town to play the Yankees. The restaurant was packed with baseball memorabilia and also served some of the best food in all of New York.

After graduation, Paul attended the CIA, the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY on the banks of the Hudson River. Paul graduated second in his class and began working at Il Incontro in Manhattan. Located on 46th street off of Second Avenue, when Paul joined the kitchen staff it became apparent quickly to the owners that their new hire had many more skills then their current head-chef. Within a year, Paul had taken over the kitchen, revamped the menu and turned a barely existing restaurant into one of the most talked about dining experiences in New York. Many other, more established restaurants came calling after Paul, but he was loyal to his first employers.

By 2000, Paul had established himself, at the age of 26, as one of the chefs for the new millennium. It was on the first day of the International Seafood Show in Boston, that he met Mary Stewart. They hit it off immediately and spent the rest of the show attending seminars and walking the exhibitor floor. At night, Mary showed Paul “her Boston,” even giving him a tour of the restaurant at Oceana where she was Day Executive Chef.

Over the next two years, Paul and Mary took turns visiting each other, trying to decide which city they would settle in. The answer was presented to them that year.

In January of 2002 the owners came to Paul and asked if he wanted to move to Florida and open a new restaurant with them in Miami. Paul spoke with Mary and could tell Miami was not in their plans. The new owners then gave Paul the option of buying them out.

At the same time, Mary heard about a small restaurant in an office building across form South Station in Boston that was coming available. The people running the place had decided to not renew their lease.

After a few trips up for Paul and negotiations on the lease, Paul and Mary had signed the lease and taken control of the space. After two months of redesign and staff review and hiring, the P&M Pub opened in June of 2002 and immediately received a good review in the Boston Globe.

The menu was American with a hint of Italian. Paul managed the kitchen as Mary took control of the main dining room.

The setup of the restaurant made for a bit of ingenuity. The main entrance lobby of the office building split the restaurant in two. To the left was the bar area and to the right, the dining room. Food was served on both sides.

The reviews continued to bring more and more customers to the P&M and sometimes reservations were closed out two weeks in advance. Paul and Mary watched the local restaurant scene and in 2004 when they saw that a 20-table bistro on Newbury Street had failed and they inquired as to the lease options.

Their financial advisor had told them that they would be stretching themselves to the limit trying to handle both establishments but Paul kept telling Mary they could make it happen. Mary finally agreed and on September 16th, Villa Maria opened.

Once again, the review from the food critics were better then could be expected. The Villa Maria was another rousing success for this new superstar team of the Boston culinary community.

What Mary was not aware of, is that Paul had gotten assistance in the financing of Villa Maria from his cousin MaryElizabeth's husband, Joey “Deuce” Fabretti. Joey was six years Paul’s senior, but Paul knew Joey’s sister Angelina growing up. When he would be over Angelina’s after school in the 7th grade, Paul would see Joey coming and going. Even then Joey was involved in petty thievery and small heists.

Over the years, Joey would have a new car each year, always wore the best clothing and had a different woman on his arm each night of the week. You could always find Joey in downtown Manhattan hanging at one of the numerous nightclubs operating at the time. During the day, Joey would sleep late and then get into his car and head into Manhattan around 6 pm. Each week he would receive a paycheck from Galliano Construction.

Joey was well connected into the Carlucci family. He was a longtime friend of Sal “Sallyboy” Carlucci, the son of the Boss, Don Vicente Carlucci. The Don was in his early eighties and it had been whispered that he would be stepping down soon and allowing his son to take the reigns of the organization.

Getting assistance from Joey was not as easy as it would seem. Joey had to get an introduction to the head of the Boston area Family Stevie Bunoccioco. Then he needed to request permission to make the loan. He explained this was a “family” favor and was in no way going to have anything to do with a restaurant in Stevie’s area.

Stevie gave his blessing to the arrangement only after an honorarium of $50,000 was made to his home Parish. Father Paul said a prayer to God the morning he found the satchel on the altar. Inside was the exact amount needed for repairs to the heating system. God did work in mysterious ways, Father Paul thought as he took the money to be deposited in the Church’s maintenance account.

Paul and Joey had a contract that would allow Paul to pay Joey back over 10 years at only 10% interest. When Sallyboy heard the terms he scolded Joey, “Family or no, you can’t be givin’ your money away..whattaya stupid or sumthin?? This isn’t even a real relative, it’s your wife’s cousin not yours” Joey explained that growing up, he knew that Paul was a good kid and then told a story few knew about.

When his sister Angelina was in ninth grade, she had a mouth that used to get her in trouble all the time. One day after school she was by herself walking down Morris Park Avenue when she was approached by a group of Latino girls from her school. One of them bumped into Angelina and Angelina began giving her lip. As the group began to circle in on Angelina, it was Paul, seeing this about to get ugly, who came out of the candy store on the corner and got in the middle.

Paul knew the leader of this group well, as he had helped her get through geometry the year before when they were going to the same school. Being six foot tall with black wavy hair, sparkling hazel eyes and a smile that would melt an iceberg did not hurt. He negotiated a truce between Angelina and the group and even made it possible for Angelina to become friends with the other girls.

Joey had heard about this from his sister a few years later when they saw a review of Paul’s skills at La Incontro. Paul himself did not know why Joey was giving him such a good deal, other then thinking it was as a favor to Joey’s wife, MaryElizabeth.

Getting the loan from Joey allowed Paul to not have to deplete the savings he and Mary had acquired and a year and a half later, after Villa Maria had been named “Best Of” by Boston Magazine, he asked Mary to let him show her something one Monday morning.

It was August and the day was warm as they walked along the Boston Common, holding hands and people watching. When they got to the townhouse on Charles Street, Paul stopped, turned and kissed Mary deeply. “And sir, what was that for?” Mary inquired. “I love you darling and you have made me the happiest man alive. Our restaurants are doing well, and I thought we should finally stop renting, what do you think?”

“Paul, you know I would love our own home, but can we afford that now?” “Mary, we can. Our credit is as good as it gets, the two places are booked solid every night and I found the perfect place for us to grow as a family. Turn around”

The gasp from Mary’s throat caused a man walking his dog to stop and look as he passed them. Paul just looked at the man and smiled.

“Paul, how can we ever afford this?” “It has been on the market for a while, and the realtor told me they would accept an offer that we could afford. Do you want to see inside?”

Mary Angelino was looking at the most beautiful town home she had ever seen. What will her mom and dad say when they come to visit? They always worried she would not be able to afford something like this. In school, growing up in Andover, Massachusetts Mary was always the dreamer and never the studier like her older sister Barbara. Barbara was very artistic growing up, but also had a mind for math and science. Mary on the other hand was more the athlete and not very good in math and sciences.

What she also did very well is cook. Beginning as a six year old, while Barbara was coloring or out playing with friends, Mary would watch her mother, Alice, and her mother, Sarah in the kitchen on Sunday after Church. In the beginning her Granny Sarah would give her a small piece of dough to knead and turn into her very own biscuit. Then she was helping make the vegetables and then, when she was 16, the two women came to Mary on a Monday and told her, she would be in charge of the following Sunday’s meal.

It was like you had told her she had won the lottery. All week she planned. Developing and then throwing out meal after meal until she finally settled on a roast with roasted rosemary red potatoes, a corn soufflé, snap peas sautéed in butter and her special biscuits. Mom told her she could shop and gave her the funds to do so. On Thursday, Mary asked Barbara for a ride to the store and the two girls went off shopping.

That Sunday, Mary could not sleep and was up at 5:00 am tinkering around the kitchen. As usual it would be the four Stewarts, Granny Sarah and Grandpa Ben, who lived across the street and Aunt Barbara and her husband Montgomery “Scooter” Haverford and their two children. Babs and Scooter had married in their thirties, and their children Scooter, Jr. and Margaret (who everyone called Muffy), were 10 years younger then their cousins. They lived in Cambridge, and would drive the 45 minutes to Andover for the family meal each Sunday.

The meal was a complete success and Mary was amazed at the satisfaction she felt cooking for others. It was on that day that she announced she was going to be a chef and own her own restaurant someday.

This was not what her parents had in mind. They expected her to go into business like her father who was an Executive VP at Prudential in the Professional Money Management division. Finance was the legacy of the Stewart family. Her paternal grandfather Wilson Stewart retired after 30 years running the Strategic Partners Mutual Fund at Prudential. Now in his eighty’s he and his wife of 60-years, Granny Missy, lived in Boca Raton, FL.

But Mary had made up her mind and during her junior year of college she applied to a number of schools and finally selected on The Restaurant School at Walnut Hill College in Philadelphia, where she concentrated on degrees in Culinary Arts and Restaurant Management.

Mary graduated at the top of her class and had offers from restaurants around the country and even a few in Europe. She accepted an offer to work at Oceana on State Street, overlooking the Boston Harbor allowing her the security of being in a city she knew intimately.

She rented a small apartment on Summer Street and began spending time with family and old friends once again. Then, six months later, at the International Seafood Show she met Paul Angelino.

Once they began dating, Paul made the trip to Andover to meet Mary’s family. The reception he got was a bit chilly especially from her uncle “Scooter” who kept asking questions about the Mafia and the show The Sopranos.

Paul’s family was a little warmer to Mary, though his Grandma Mary kept asking anyone who would listen “why the blonde was so skinny?”

In September of ’02, Paul took Mary to a Boston Red Sox/NY Yankee game. Throughout their relationship, the one thing they had always agreed to disagree on was the Yankees and Red Sox. Whenever the Yankees were in town, they would attend as many games as possible. On this night, with the Yankees already up by 3 runs before the top of the fourth inning, the Public Address Announcer asked the crowd to turn their attention to the large screen in center field. On the screen were the words:

Mary My Love-
Please Be MINEMINEMINE
Marry Me - Paul

When Mary turned to Paul, he was on one knee holding a beautiful 2-caret marquis diamond ring. She immediately began shaking her head and saying yes and the entire stadium erupted in applause, even though the groom-to-be was wearing a Yankee cap.

They were married on August 9th, 2003 at the Chapel at Andover Academy and then a large reception was held under tents in the Stewart’s backyard. Both families mingled during the wedding and it was written up in the Boston Globe.

For the last 3 years they had been living in a rental at the Back Bay Concierge on St. Alphonsus Street. It was small, but with two restaurants to run they didn’t spend a lot of time at home.

Now, standing in front of a Town Home that could possibly be theirs, shivers made their way up Mary’s spine. At that moment the front door opened and Paul introduced Mary to Chandler Wilkins the realtor. They toured the home and Mary was hooked.

The Town home was three stories. The front door was three steps up off the street. Once inside the outer front door you were in a small entry. The inside door opened into the first floor with a hall to the back of the home and the stairs to the second floor straight ahead.

The living room was to the left. It was 12’ x 20’ with a Bay window looking out onto the street. To the right was the formal dining area. It was approximately the same size as the living room and also had a large bay window allowing for plenty of light. They were happy to find out the sellers were including the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Further into the home was the kitchen. It was large, had plenty of windows along the back wall of the house looking out onto a small backyard. It had an open layout spanning the entire width of the home. The current owners had a small seating area to the left with a plasma TV hanging on the wall and the everyday table and chairs.

The kitchen had an oversized stainless steel refrigerator/freezer, an island with a prep sink, a stove with 5 burners and a grilling area. There were also 2 wall ovens and a deep fryer unit built into the counter. There was even a pass-thru into the Dining Room to help with serving. A perfect arrangement for two chefs.

The second floor had a den and three decent size bedrooms. The top floor was the master suite with matching walk-in closets and large bathroom which included a spa tube and shower with 12 jets built into the walls.

Later that evening they discussed the finances and Paul promised they could swing it. The next morning they made an offer a million below asking and it was accepted by mid-afternoon.

They closed and moved in on August 1st, 2006 and held a cocktail party two weeks later that was attended by over 100 friends and business associates.

Both the restaurants continued to do well and Paul was able to make his payments to Joey without a problem. The holidays were a special time as Paul and Mary found out a week before Christmas that Mary was pregnant and due in August of 2007. They celebrated with Mary’s parents and aunt and uncle and Paul’s mom and dad also flew up along with his sisters and their husbands and his niece Amelia who is seven and was worried Santa would not find her.

They were both disappointed that Mary’s sister, Barbara would not be able to make it home from California. Barbara and Mary had a falling out five years ago and had been circling each other since then. A few months ago Barbara called and something in her voice kept Mary from hanging up.

Mary could tell immediately there was something wrong with her baby sister, but Barbara was holding back. All she would say was that there had been a man in her life, but he turned out to be different then he appeared. Mary was not happy that she would have to wait a few months to find out the whole story, but also did not want to lose her sister again.

February 6, 2007 began like any other Tuesday for Paul. He was up at 4:00 am. to go down to the docks to pick out fish for the restaurants. On his way, he noticed a car behind him for a number of blocks but it turned just before the docks and headed toward the tunnel to the airport. After making his selections he headed over to South Street and the P&M Pub. There was more traffic on the roads now, but Paul could have sworn the silver Escalade he noticed in his rear view mirror was the same he saw earlier.

The day and evening went by quickly and Paul was exhausted at the end of the dinner service. On Tuesday’s Mary worked at Villa Maria, but they spoke on the phone a few times.

Now Paul got into the car and drove back to their new Town Home. When he pulled into his spot he saw a silver Escalade parked down the block.

Mary was home when he walked in and, as was their custom, they made a small drink and sat on the couch and discussed their day before heading to bed.

The next day, Paul spent most of the day on Newbury at Villa Maria going over the new menu with his head chef. That evening, Paul and Mary were due to visit Aunt Barbara and Uncle Scooter for dinner at their home. They normally did not stay away from the restaurants during the week, but this was Babs and Scooters Anniversary and was a do not miss event.

On the drive over Paul turned to Mary “I have to tell you, everywhere I look I see Silver Escalades. I am beginning to think maybe it is a sign that we should be buying one.” Oh Paul, why would you want a huge SUV in the city? I certainly have no interest in driving one,” Mary stated. They dropped the subject and had a great night at the party.

On the way home Mary yawned and then laughed. “What’s so funny gorgeous?” “Well, now I am being haunted by your SUV premonition, there is a Silver Escalade right behind us.” Paul had not noticed, but when he glanced in his rear view mirror a shiver went up his spine.

The Cadillac made a turn a few blocks later and Paul kept glancing in the mirror but saw no sign of the car again.

When they got home, they entered their home and went right up to the third floor and prepared for bed.

“Paul, I need some juice, do you want anything?” “No babe, I am fine, but you know, we really should have a small fridge up here for moments just like this.”

Mary laughed as she went down the stairs. Paul stood at the sink and brushed his teeth and washed his face. As he scrubbed the soap off, he heard a foot step on the stairs and rinsed the soap off.

He took the towel and dried his face. As he lowered the towel he looked in the mirror to see two masked men behind him in the bedroom. One was holding a gun to Mary’s temple and there was blood from a cut somewhere under her hairline. She was white and shaking and small sobs were muffled by the duct tape covering her mouth.

Paul turned, feeling even more powerless because he was standing in his boxer briefs and nothing more.

The intruder who was not holding the gun to Mary’s temple was also holding a pistol, which was pointing right at Paul’s belly.

“You don’t want to do anything stupid; your pretty wife here wouldn’t appreciate it.” With that his left hand flew out and slapped Mary across the mouth. Her head flew backward and her cries grew louder through her gag.

Paul moved forward quickly, but not quick enough as the gunman’s right hand with the gun came flying out catching Paul at the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted from his nose covering his chest and the floor where he had collapsed.

“I told you not to be a wiseass.” That was the last thing Paul heard as the gun came down on the back of his head and the world went dark...

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - VEMjr
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 1/15/07

Couch Matinee: "HER FATE" Episode 3

2010-09-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

Barbara and Mary Stewart wanted for nothing growing up. Their father Gerald had followed his father’s footsteps and had a successful career in finance, eventually rising to Executive VP for Prudential Professional Money Management. His father Winston had made millions during his years at Prudential running their Strategic Partners Mutual Funds Group.

The Stewarts came to the Haverhill area of Massachusetts sometime in the late 1700’s. Alexander Stewart had been born in England and came across the Atlantic on his own as a 16 year old with one suitcase and £ 50 in his pocket. He began working at a local sawmill, saving his pay as best he could.

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EPISODE ONE
EPISODE TWO

Barbara and Mary Stewart wanted for nothing growing up. Their father Gerald had followed his father’s footsteps and had a successful career in finance, eventually rising to Executive VP for Prudential Professional Money Management. His father Winston had made millions during his years at Prudential running their Strategic Partners Mutual Funds Group.

The Stewarts came to the Haverhill area of Massachusetts sometime in the late 1700’s. Alexander Stewart had been born in England and came across the Atlantic on his own as a 16 year old with one suitcase and £ 50 in his pocket. He began working at a local sawmill, saving his pay as best he could.

Marrying Charity Fowkes, the daughter of the Preacher, they lived a sparse, but satisfying life. Their son, Ballard was born in 1800. By the time he was 25 he had begun Stewart Shoe Company along the banks of the Merrimack River, using the river as a source for power.

The business took off in 1851 when Rowland H. Macy opened his first store in Haverhill. Ballard made a deal to be the sole supplier of men’s footwear to the man who founded the company that still bears his name.

Over the next 80 years Stewart Shoes grew under the watchful eyes of 3 generations of Stewart men. Ballard handed the reigns to his son Samuel. Samuel’s son Ezekiel then took the helm and guided the company through the early part of the new century.

It was during the time Ezekiel’s son John was running the company that the Great Depression hit. They tried to keep the company running, tried to continue to pay their workers, but eventually in 1937, Stewart Show Company closed their doors for the last time.

After dinner one evening John rose from the table, kissed his wife Sophie and daughter Sally who, as she was still unmarried at 27, lived with her parents, and announced he was going into town to check on the factory, now shuttered.

The next day Sally went into town to check on her father, who had not returned home the evening before. Walking into his office on the second floor she found the lights off. At first she thought he had fallen asleep, his head on his desk and had knocked over a mug of coffee. But she realized her mistake when she flicked the light-switch and saw the liquid all over the desk and floor was red – the blood of her father.

He had put his pistol to his head at some time during the evening and taken his own life. The entire family was devastated by the event, but Sally could never get the sight of her beloved father’s blood all over. Three years later at the age of thirty, Sally took her own life, tying a rope around the railing over looking the entry of their home and stepped over the rail and into thin air. Sophie ordered the home sold immediately and moved into Boston where she remained until her death in 1946.

Ann had married Alexander Pineford the heir to Pineford Mills when she was 18. They lived in a home overlooking the town. They asked Sophie to live with them, but she refused. Augustus had worked in the factory, paying his dues until it was time for him to step in and run it when his dad had retired. Well, that was the plan…now spoiled forever by a group of men on Wall Street who caused the crash, thus leading the nation into a period of severe financial hardships.

Augustus was 34 when the factory closed and his father took his own life. He had been married to Julie for twelve years and their son Wilson, (Gerald’s grandfather) was 11. For about a year he tried working at his brother-in-laws mill, but found he had no affinity for the lumber business.

With the little money he had, and his education in finance, he started a small company to help the local businesses track their earnings better. His son Wilson would sit and watch his father balance the books for his customers and seemed to have the same love and skill with numbers as did his father. If it was not for Augustus, the family factory would have closed 4 years earlier and many of their employees would have been much worse off then they were.

Wilson was an excellent student, graduating near the top of his class at Haverhill High School. There were whispers that Wilson was the inspiration for the character Reggie in the Archie Comic books. Wilson graduated with the creator of this popular comic series, Bob Montana.

Wilson was offered scholarships at many prestigious colleges, but chose Wharton University of Pennsylvania where he received both his undergraduate and graduate degrees. He joined Prudential right out of school in and his career track was outlined early on.

Incredibly bright and devilishly handsome, Wilson stayed single and worked hard over the next 4 years. Then, in early 1954 one of his female friends announced she was pregnant. Wilson and Missy were married a month later in a small private ceremony and Gerald was born 7 months later. This caused some talk in the halls of his company, but it all died down quickly as Wilson showed time and again his skills at investing money and making it increase up to ten-fold in a short amount of time.

Two years later Wilson was elevated to run the entire Strategic Partners Mutual Fund and from the outside looking in, everything seemed wonderful. The Stewarts had moved into a beautiful town home in Cambridge. Gerald, though an only child, had many friends and was attending the best private schools in the Boston area, eventually ending up at The Andover Academy, where he was 2 years behind Scooter Haverford. Gerald knew the popular Lacrosse captain but they were certainly not close.

When Scooter married Gerald’s sister-in-law; Alice’s sister Barbara, he had no idea who Gerald Stewart was, even having to be shown a yearbook with Gerald’s picture, because Scooter could not imagine not knowing someone who was at Andover when he was. In reality, Scooter was too big a campus hero to remember a skinny kid two years his junior.

Their relationship would change over the next few years and Scooter always wondered if, had he just lied and said he did remember Gerald, things would have turned out differently.

By the time they married Scooter was the owner of an electronics company. Begun in the late 50’s by his father, Monty, Sr. as a 17 year old, the company built the transmitters used in VHF FM single channel military radio sets of that time. When the Vietnam War began Monty Sr. became a contractor for the US Military and the company grew by a factor of 6 in just 3 short years. When Scooter was 18 he joined the Marines instead of waiting to find out his draft number. He spent one tour at the end of the War “in-country” and came home to move right into a management position at Hingham Electronics. As the war wound down, so did the big contracts. The company began to struggle and some lay-off occurred. Scooter tried to attend college at night but got only as far as earning an Associates Degree.

Even without the formal education, Scooter knew how to see the future of things and evolved the company into Hingham Printed Circuit Board, getting in on the ground floor of an industry about to explode with the advent of the computer. The business grew once more and, by offering training to those who were interested, they were able to hire back 80% of the people who had been laid off 3 years before.

By 1983 when Scooter met Barbara “Babs” Stanton he had been named one of the Boston area’s most eligible bachelors three times. She was the daughter of Benjamin and Sarah Stanton, scions of Boston Upper Crust. The Stanton’s had links all the way back to the original Mayflower. Intimates of the Rockefellers and Kennedy’s, the origin of their family’s money was also shrouded in mystery.

Barbara’s younger sister, Alice, had been married for 5 years and had two beautiful daughters. Babs had not been in any rush to find a husband, instead enjoying working with the United Way and traveling around the world.

Scooter knocked her off her feet the night they met at a charity ball. Their romance was a whirlwind and they were married in a huge ceremony, held in the chapel of the Lutheran Church on Harvard Yard.

By 2000, Babs and Scooter had brought Scooter, Jr. and Muffy into the world and were living large. Trips around the world, the best private schools for the kids, even sending Muffy to a boarding school in Switzerland, two years before when she was 9, resulting in a period of pure rebellion and expulsion.

Gerald had been managing the personal account for Babs and Scooter since they had gotten together. Once Scooter was convinced Gerald knew what he was doing, he allowed him to manage even the company’s investment capital.

In 2001, Gerald noticed some things changing. Scooter was asking to have control of more of the company’s money; moving funds from his personal account to the company’s and his personal manner had changed also.

One night in early October of 2003, Gerald was working late at his office in the Prudential Tower when the security guard downstairs called. “Mr. Stewart, excuse me sir, but there is a Mr. Haverford here and he insists you know him and to let him up.” In the background Gerald could hear what sounded like a very drunk Scooter bellowing “Just let me by… do you know I was the most eligible bachelor in Boston THREE TIMES??? What is your name? Where is your supervisor???”

During a slight break in the yelling Gerald said “George, let him up, it is ok, he is my brother in law.”

“You sure sir?”

“Yes, just put him on the elevator and set it for express and I will meet him when the door opens.”

When the elevator door opened on the 48th floor, Gerald was first assaulted with the reek of a very drunk person and then the visual of Scooter, always so well kept, disheveled his shoes untied, shirttail hanging out, tie askew. Scooter stumbled off the elevator into Gerald’s arms.

“Whoa, what happened to you Scoot?” Gerald said using the truncated nickname he knew Scooter hated, but figured in his condition he would not remember in the morning.

Struggling, Scooter still outweighed him by 50 pounds; Gerald managed to get him into a chair in his office and closed the door. There didn’t appear to be anyone else on that floor, but Gerald didn’t want to risk someone seeing Scooter in this condition.

Walking to the wet bar in the corner of his office, he get a glass of water for Scooter and two aspirins. “Here, take these, they will help later. Sorry, there is no coffee made here now. How about you telling me what is going on Scooter, something has been strange for 9 months now.”

Scooter looked up at Gerald and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Ger, I didn’t think it was going to end up like this. I mean, I was just looking for another way to help the company grow. You as mush as anyone knows that business has been tough the last few years.”

“Well, not really Scooter, you have been cutting me out more and more.”

“I did that to try and protect you Ger, I didn’t want you to be involved in case something went wrong, and man has it ever gone wrong and I don’t know where to turn, I don’t know what to do. I can’t let them hurt Babs and the kids Ger, so how do I stop it?”

“Wait Scooter, slow down. Who is going to hurt the kids and Babs? What where you trying to protect me from, what has gone wrong? Start at the beginning.”

“I need a drink Ger, I really do.”

“Man, you have had plenty to drink already…”

“Look Ger, I am practically sober again, just thinking about this. I know you keep a bottle of Pinch in here somewhere, just a couple of fingers.”
Gerald went to the wet bar and poured Scooter a couple of fingers of Pinch and then, thinking about it, poured himself two fingers plus another two. Walking back toward Scooter who was sitting with his back to him, Gerald wondered if he really wanted to hear the story about to be told and took a big gulp, finishing off half the scotch in his glass.

As he took the glass, Scooter began to speak. “Look, you remember when we lost that contract in 1998, that was a full 15% of our business and it was a very lucrative 15%. I was on the road trying to convince some of our customers to up their orders so I could cover the loss. Well I was in Seattle and at the bar in the hotel one night. I had a few cocktails and was eating a burger when this beauty slid onto the barstool next to me. Now Ger, I was not looking for anything but a little conversation. The meeting that day had not gone well and I was feeling a bit down.”

“We talked about some movies that had just come out and her business, interior design she said and had a few more drinks. Well when I got up to leave I felt even drunker then I should have. The next thing I knew, I was in my room, naked with this woman next to me. I couldn’t even remember her name. That was scary enough, but then I realized there was someone else in the room. Sitting in the corner in the chair. When I reached for the light a voice told me to not touch it and to just sit back on the bed. The drapes were open a bit, but he was mostly in shadow. What I could see was the gun in his right hand resting on the arm of the chair.”

“Another?” And Scooter held out his glass. Gerald was glad he had, since his glass was empty also and he knew the worst was yet to come.

Returning with both their glasses containing double amounts, Scooter continued “I asked what he wanted and what he was doing in my room. And you know what he did? DO you Ger? He laughed! Yes, he laughed...and in that laugh was pure evil. And I could feel my body get cold. I even thought, for a moment, that I might have been dreaming it was so bazaar, and that is when I shook the lady in the bed next to me, and felt her skin…cold and clammy. He began to laugh with even more evil and I began to get up. His hand came up and the gun was pointed right at me. He just said SIT and I did. I asked what happened to her and he told me. And when he told me he actually sounded happy like he was telling about his favorite vacation.”

“She’s dead,” said the voice from the corner. Her neck has been broken. And under her fingernails is your skin. And the fingerprints on the necklace she is wearing, well they belong to you also. Your fingerprints are all over the room too. This is not your room, by the way, it is a room reserved in her name. Your fingerprints are on file, are they not? As a contractor for the military, so it will be easy for the Police to find out who the killer is.”

“But why did you kill her? What did she do? What did I do?” Scooter stammered.

Again, a soft laugh before, “She was just a prostitute we hired to do our bidding, a nobody who will not be missed. She was a weapon, used and discarded. As for you well you haven’t done anything yet. Actually your fate is based upon whether you do something for us.”

“Who is ‘us’? And what is it you want me to do?” asked Scooter, still trying to see more of the face on the man in the corner and to place the accent he heard in the words.

“Your company has been struggling, hasn’t it? And you have been making strides on new technology. Do not act surprised Mr. Haverford, do you really think your corporate secrets are secrets? We want that technology Mr. Haverford, and as long as we get it, your life will not change. But if you do not cooperate, not only will your life change but so will the loves of your entire family.”

Scooter looked up at Gerald, “What was I going to do? I mean, they showed me pictures. Pictures of me where I have my hands on her neck. They staged the whole thing. I would have gone to jail for the rest of my life, my business would have been shuttered, my family out on the street.” And the tears came again. Scooter buried his face in his hands and Gerald looked at him and considered how far the great Scooter Haverford had fallen. He immediately chided himself on taking satisfaction in his brother-in-laws pain.

“So, tell me Scooter, what happened next?”

“Well, he told me to get up and get dressed and keep my back to him the entire time. I did as he said and then he told me to leave and they would contact me. I looked in the papers, I watched the news and I never heard a word about the girl…damn, Gerald, I don’t even know her name. I am not sure I ever even got it. Well, I got on the plane the next day and came home. I began sending one of my salespeople to call on that client after that. I didn’t ant to go anywhere near Seattle.”

“Then, one day about three weeks later, my receptionist buzzes me and tells me there are two gentlemen asking to speak with me, a Mr. Anderson and a Mr. Tagahasi. I asked her what they wanted and she told me they had shown her badges and said they were from the government. I went out to the reception area and asked if I could help. Mr. Tagahasi spoke and said “We have to speak.” and my blood ran cold. Gerald, I KNEW…immediately, I knew it was the man from the chair. I opened the door without a word and we went to my office. Once the door was closed, the one who called himself Anderson slapped me with the back of his hand.”

“Don’t let that happen again,” said Anderson, pushing Scooter into his chair. His real name was not Anderson; it was Rafael Famosa, born in Republica de Cuba in 1952. At 18 he was recruited to be part of the personal security team for Fidel Castro. Then about 15 years ago, he was approached by a member of a North Korean contingency visiting Cuba.

The offer for employment with the added adventure of actually doing something other then sitting around waiting for a feeble old man to die, Rafael said yes and the North Koreans helped to smuggle him out when they left a few days later.

Since 1991 he had committed crimes around the world for the North Korean regime. He had been instrumental on getting technology which eventually helped bring their nuclear capabilities online.

The last 5 years he had worked exclusively with “Mr. Tagahasi”, who was actually Ki-baek Kim, a Sojwa ( Major in the US Army), in the Korean Peoples Army, Kim was an experienced operative having “immigrated” to the United States for 22 years. When he needed to be in North Korea he would fly into Thailand and then a private plane to the capital city Pyangyong for meetings with the highest levels of government.

Kim/ Tagahasi spoke next. “So, Mr. Haverford, my voice brought back the memories of a special evening did it not? Would you care to see the DVD we produced. We were able to enhance the details; you can not believe the technology available on the market today.”

And Scooter cringed as Kim laughed his spine-chilling laugh.

“Now, Mr. Haverford, here is what you are going to do for us…”

Gerald spoke. “What did they want?”

“They wanted me to build them some specialized printed boards. When I saw the blueprints, I was amazed, it was even more advanced then designs my engineers had been working on.”

Gerald’s eyes bugged out “So, you have been building some specialized circuit boards for some foreign country? DO you even know who they work for?”

Scooter looked down into his drink. “Well, I didn’t at first, but about a year later I was beginning to have second thoughts and one night on my way home I was forced off the road on my way home. There was Anderson and Tagahasi and three others. The others never spoke, but Tagahasi made his point. He warned me that if I started to make trouble or spoke to anyone about this, my family would end up in a prison in the jungles of North Korea and Muffy and Babs…” he broke into huge sobs “would be used as whores by the other prisoners. What was I going to do? I just couldn’t hold this in any longer. I needed to tell someone, I don’t know what to do. They came to me yesterday with a new design. My engineers will definitely ask questions about this series.”

At that moment the door to Gerald’s office opened startling both men. Scooter saw the two men who entered and jumped out of the chair “Look, he doesn’t know anything, I didn’t tell him anything. This is my brother-in-law, and we were just having a family discussion.”

Gerald’s blood turned to ice as the shorter of the two laughed. He knew this must be Tagahasi and Anderson, it could be none other.

“Sit down Mr. Haverford. Now, Mr. Stewart, it appears your brother-in-law has put you in a very dangerous spot. What are we going to do about this?”

“Now, wait one minute here,” Gerald said as he stepped forward. He never saw Anderson’s hand, only felt the pain as it connected with his chin and he crumbled to the ground.

That was the day Gerald Stewart became a spy against the country he loved.

They made him handle investments for them, turning their money, earned selling technology to countries that should not have it, into even more money that they then used to purchase items not available to the North Korean Government through legitimate channels.

Both men kept deluding themselves into believing that by cooperating their families would be safe.

Six months ago Gerald had thought about contacting the F.B.I. He went as far as going to their Boston headquarters. He never went past the lobby before chickening out and leaving. Then a week later, he dialed the number to Homeland Security in Boston. When the operator answered he hung up, feeling fear again.

He was panicked when, about an hour later two men knocked on the door of his Andover home. He told them he had misdialed and when he heard the operator just hung up without thinking. They appeared to believe him and left soon after.

That night as they slid into bed, Alice asked if he was feeling well. He had been “acting hyper, like you are running to catch something you can never catch.” He assured her everything was fine. And he believed himself when he said it.

On the morning of February 8th, Gerald was in his office his mind only on whether to suggest to one of his larger clients’ to move away from the automotive investments he was holding.

His assistant Janice buzzed and announced there was a call on line one, “They won’t say what it about sir only that it is of utmost urgency.”

Gerald felt a chill come over him and he picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“So, you love your daughter?”

Gerald looked at the pictures of Barbara and Mary on his desk, what was this about?

“Who is this?”

“Shut up and listen. You just don’t listen. ‘Don’t do anything stupid’ was that so hard to understand?”

The phone went dead as Gerald stared at it in his hand.

Across town another phone rang. “Hello?”

“Why do you think we are joking? DO you know where your little Muffy is?”

The phone went dead and Scooter Haverford went white.

In the Bronx, NY, a cell phone woke Joey “The Deuce” out of a sound sleep. “Damn, doesn’t anyone answer the phone around here?” he screamed and then realized the kids, Angelina, 11 and Joey, Jr., 9, would be at school and his wife MaryElizabeth would be out shopping.

He reached over and grabbed the phone, “This better be important or I’m gonna hunt ya down and brake an arm”

“Mr. Fabretti, your cousin Paul – he should know better.”

The phone line went dead and Joey Fabretti cursed out loud.

THIS STORY WILL BE COMPLETED SOMEDAY...

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - VEMjr
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published on 1/22/07

Couch Matinee: "THE D.J."

2010-09-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

The DJ hit the play button and the sounds of the Kool and The Gang song “CELEBRATION” filled the banquet hall. This was timed to coincide with the end of the main course. He was practiced enough to know when the guests were done and beginning to get restless, wanting to get back out and party.

The guests at the wedding of Phil and Sally Michaels streamed to the dance floor. The DJ, Steve Dixon encouraged the guests over his wireless microphone…”It’s time to party now that dinner is over…let’s get our bride and groom onto the dance floor!”

CONCESSION SPECIAL

Grilled Chicken Breast On A Bed Of Lettuce

With A Diet Drink Or Iced Tea - $1.75

The DJ hit the play button and the sounds of the Kool and The Gang song “CELEBRATION” filled the banquet hall. This was timed to coincide with the end of the main course. He was practiced enough to know when the guests were done and beginning to get restless, wanting to get back out and party.

The guests at the wedding of Phil and Sally Michaels streamed to the dance floor. The DJ, Steve Dixon encouraged the guests over his wireless microphone…”It’s time to party now that dinner is over…let’s get our bride and groom onto the dance floor!”

The guests began chanting “Phil! Sally! Phil! Sally!” until the bride and groom rose from their head table and took to the center of the floor, the guests making a huge circle around them, dancing and clapping.

Steve looked down from the small stage in the ballroom of the local Marriott hotel and smiled both inward and outward. This is where he flourished, bringing his talents for playing the right songs and anticipating the party’s mood at weddings. The guests at this wedding would never imagine that five days a week, Steve Swan worked as an accountant, pouring over numbers 9 hours a day.

On weekends, Steve would don his tuxedo, drive to the local banquet halls and set up his equipment. When he first began, it was turntables. Then he transferred the music to cassettes which also helped the music. Many halls did not have sturdy flooring and when he did his job and brought 100+ guests onto the dance floor the records would skip. He didn’t have to worry about that with the cassettes.

A few years ago, another change was made, as he burned his music collection onto CD’s. As with the cassettes, this also gave him the ability to “mix” two or three songs together allowing him to move onto the dance floor and entertain.

You see, he was not just a DJ, but a party entertainer. He would be out on the floor, leading the group dances throughout the night, the Slide, the Hokey Pokey, the Chicken Dance. He built up a reputation for increasing the fun at the parties he worked.

Dixon scanned the room looking for tonight’s score. He only worked weddings because the guests were more inclined to have a good time and that meant more drinks and a looser attitude. Over near the bar were two bridesmaids downing shots of what appeared to Steve as Kamikaze’s.

His eyes scanned the brunette. Her hair fell to just below her shoulders. Her long neck and shapely legs, feet encased in a pair of three inch ankle-strap heels sealed the deal for him. This would be his target for the evening. Most men would have zeroed in on the blonde standing next to her, but Steve was a brunette man. From his vantage spot he could make out her light hazel eyes and he was totally sure he wanted to bed her that night.

At 35, Steve Dixon had never been married. He owned a small house that he had decorated in a simple style. Sure, there had been women he had considered marrying, but each time, in the end, he decided he liked the single life much more. His ability to control a room full of people seemed to be an aphrodisiac to women, allowing him to satisfy his sexual appetite, without the constraints of a relationship.

If possible, he always ended up at the woman’s apartment or home, so they would not know his address. This was not always possible, but if one who he had taken to his home ever came to his doorstep or called, he would explain that he was not interested in anything long-term. If they still wanted to “play” fine, but as soon as they got too serious, he pushed them off and moved on.

As "CELEBRATION" was finishing, Steve took the microphone “Great night for a party all…now ladies, it is your turn…I have been doing this for years and almost every night as I am packing up I hear the following conversation.” At this point Steve made his voice higher in octave, “FrAnk, all night long the music played.”

As it normally did, this line got the attention of almost everyone in the room and Steve was pleased to see his target turning and looking over at him. He continued, still in the high voice, “You ATE, you DRANK, you TALKED, but the one thing you never did was DANCE. Marty and Nancy danced, but did we? Noooooooooooooo.” The laughs could be heard from around the room as women at the party began to relate. Steve smiled at the brunette, holding her gaze as he went on, “FrAnk, why don't we ever dance?”

Steve’s voice returned to normal, “Well ladies this is now your chance to turn the tables on your ‘Frank’…every man in the room is available. This next song is the ‘Ladies Choice’. OH, and ladies, remember your husband was not going to ask you to dance, so why should you ask him?” The laughs were louder this time and then Steve threw in the kicker, “Oh, and the other part of this dance is, Gents, if you are asked to dance, this is the one time all night…YOU CAN’T SAY NO!”

As Steve said this last, he smiled at the woman at the bar and gave a little wink. As he said the last line, he hit the play button on the CD player and the first notes of the Nat King Cole/ Natalie Cole classic “UNFORGETTABLE” began to fill the room.

Steve watched as the lady said something to her friend and saw the blonde turn toward him and the brunette walking toward his stage.

She came to the side of the stage and Steve moved over toward her, smiling gently. “Hi, would you like to make a request?” he asked.

She smiled up at him and he saw a perfect row of teeth, sparkling white, “Yes, if the request is you dance with me. And remember, you can’t say no…your rule.”

Laughing, Steve placed the microphone on the table and put his hand out. “Yes, that is my rule, and I never break the rules...well, almost never.” Laughing, he took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor.

He slid his right hand to the small of her back and took her left hand in his and they began to glide across the floor. Steve had taken dance lessons when he first became a DJ, just for these occasions. He had mastered the art of leading a woman to any type of music; slow, disco, Salsa, waltz, whatever.

There were times when he knew it was to his benefit to dance with the guests to build his reputation as a complete entertainer, including making sure he asked the grandmothers of the bride and groom to dance once during the evening. He found when he performed this last act; his tips at the end of the evening would be larger then normal.

As Steve began to dance with the brunette he leaned his mouth to her ear and asked, “So, Becky, are you having a good time?” She pulled back slightly and gave him a quizzical look. Ready for this reaction, Steve smiled and said “Remember, I introduced the wedding party when you came in and there was no way I was forgetting your name.”

Becky smiled at him and Steve felt her hand on his shoulder rub back and forth. “So, Becky, are you enjoying yourself tonight?” “Oh, yes, I am. You play some great music and the food was great.”

“Now, tell me why a beautiful woman like you is here all by yourself?” Steve asked as he pulled Becky in a little tighter.

He could feel her relax even more and didn’t really care if it was her reaction to him or the result of the alcohol kicking in. “Well, I am not seeing anyone special enough to fly in with me from Florida where I live.” She did not see Steve smile even wider as he realized she was staying right here in the hotel. He was thrilled that he had selected the perfect target for the evening. A non-local, who lived in an area of the country he liked to visit, so if all went well; he could fly down to Florida in the coming months and have a free stay.

“So, where in Florida do you live?” “Right outside of Naples on the west coast” was the response. “Oh, I love it down there, the beaches are great. I have actually been to a wedding on the beach about 15 years ago for one of my best friends” Steve replied.

“Oh the song is about to end, don’t you need to get back to the stage?” Becky asked. Steve smiled and said “No, the next song will start itself, but I think it is time I went to see if Nana Michaels would like to dance, but promise you’ll save me another dance later?” Steve smiled. “At least one” said Becky and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Steve went over and asked Phil’s grandmother to dance eliciting the expected response of yes from her and ooohs and aaahs from the people close by.

Steve led her out to the dance floor and the next song began…

The rest of the evening went as planned. Steve worked the crowd and had them dancing the entire night long.

When he led the cake cutting, he presented the bride and groom a CD he recorded earlier in the evening which included the announcement of the wedding party and their first dance together, “The time we began is listed on the CD, so every year on your anniversary you can start the CD at that exact time and relive the first 10 minutes of your wedding.” This simple gesture had provided Steve with more referrals then anything else.

At the end of the evening, Steve received compliments from the guests as they left. Sally’s father paid him along with a generous tip and then he began to pack his equipment. As he made the three trips to his van he noticed Becky lingering in the lobby even after everyone else had made their way to their cars or upstairs to their respective rooms.

After finishing the packing, instead of heading off, Steve walked back into the hotel. At first he did not see Becky around and was about to turn and leave, figuring he had struck out this evening. He turned and saw her at the bar of the lounge in the lobby and he walked in.

“Well, hi again.” Steve smiled. “I was waiting for you, I thought, now that you were done, you might want a drink.” Becky replied.

Steve ordered a beer and they sat and chatted for 15 minutes, then Steve made his move. “Well, I guess it is time I hit the road.” Becky looked at him and her bottom lip pouted out, “Well, you don’t have to go if you’d like. I have a great big room with the most comfy king bed, do you want to order another drink and come up for a while?”

“That would make my night complete.” Steve smiled and they walked out of the lounge and headed for the elevator.

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - VEMjr
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 2/19/07

Couch Matinee: "ROGERS BAY" Episode 1

2010-09-08T00:01:00.001-05:00

The DJ hit the play button and the sounds of the Kool and The Gang song “CELEBRATION” filled the banquet hall. This was timed to coincide with the end of the main course. He was practiced enough to know when the guests were done and beginning to get restless, wanting to get back out and party.

The guests at the wedding of Phil and Sally Michaels streamed to the dance floor. The DJ, Steve Dixon encouraged the guests over his wireless microphone…”It’s time to party now that dinner is over…let’s get our bride and groom onto the dance floor!”

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

Burger, Fries and Large Drink

$2.75

As Mary Alice Silber passed the “Welcome” Sign for Rogers Bay, she looked down to see the odometer on her 1986 Dodge Colt click over the 138,000 mile mark. With a small, sad smile she pondered the oddity of this occurrence. When she had “run” from Rogers Bay at the age of 16, the car was one year old and the odometer read 11,000 miles.

The oldies radio station from the city 50 miles away played through the tinny speakers located on the top of the dashboard. Again she smiled sadly as she realized the song had been released in 1986, during the spring just a few months before she had packed the Colt in June, after her sophomore year in high school had ended and driven out of Rogers Bay. A song she and her girlfriends had listened to in the basement of Mary Alice’s parent’s home, or danced to on the beach when they would cut out of school.

Around town Mary Alice, Ann Murphy, Mary Beth Snyder, Liz Johnson, Lee Ann Paterson and Elizabeth Stevens were known as the “Bay Babes”. They had all started kindergarten together, had been girl scouts for a few years, moved from Rogers Elementary School to Kennedy Junior High and eventually walked the halls of County High. From the time they were freshman, they were the clique everyone wanted to be a part of, but theirs was a closed group…no other members allowed.

Growing up, Mary Alice’s parents ran the diner on Main Street in Rogers Bay. When her friends would go home for dinner, Mary Alice would rush to the diner to sit in the kitchen, do her homework, and watch her dad as he cooked the meals for the tourists who would flock to the thriving resort community, while her mother acted as Hostess and cashier up front.

Driving onto Main Street, she was not surprised to see the same sign in every third store window.

“FOR SALE OR LEASE”

Looking to her left, a tear formed at the corner of her eye looking at the empty space that had been Silber’s Diner. The sign was still above the main window, part of the neon broken after years of neglect.

Coming to the one light in the town, Mary Alice turned the car left and followed the road as it wound upward to the cliffs above Rogers Bay. When she crested the hill, she pulled the car into the gravel parking area, laughing to herself as she saw the “Scenic Overlook” sign upon entering the small parking lot.

As she had hoped, on this gray day in October, the lot was empty. She pulled the Colt to the far side of the lot, turned off the radio and then turned the key. The car showed its age and shuddered into silence.

Opening the door, Mary Alice grabbed her coat from the back seat and pulled it on tight as the winter began making its presence known. Walking to the edge of the cliff she peered out at the waters of the bay.

How many times had she stood in this same spot? The number was too big to calculate. Pulling her jacket closer, Mary Alice thought back to her last winter in Rogers Bay to those months when everything was normal here in Rogers Bay.

Then, in January, everything changed. Mary Alice shivered, only this time it was not from the cold wind, but rather from the memories.

Right after Christmas, Mary Alice learned that not everything was rosy in the Silber household. She began to hear arguments coming from her parent’s bedroom when they had thought she was asleep. It seemed like they grew louder and louder each evening.

At first, Mary Alice could not hear the subjects of the fights, but then one night after about two weeks, she climbed out of her bed and quietly padded to the door outside her parents room. Putting her ear to the door she sat quietly and listened as her father berated her mother for having an affair with Mr. Hill, who was the owner of the company that supplied the produce to their diner.

Mary Alice snuck back to her room and fell asleep that night covering her pillow with tears. Over the next weeks, the arguments continued and her father began sleeping in the third bedroom. Neither her mom nor dad had guessed that Mary Alice was aware of the nature of their fights.

Then one day, Mary Alice had finished her homework and she and her dad left the restaurant. Her mother never came home that evening and after that, never lived in the house. She began sleeping in the small apartment above the restaurant.

Neither ever discussed the real issue behind their breakup with Mary Alice. The next Saturday afternoon as Mary Alice, Liz J. and Ann were on their way to the movies, she told her friends about the breakup of her happy home. Her girlfriends listened silently and showed true sympathy for their friend.

Mary Alice took one last look at the bay and walked back to her car. She slipped behind the wheel and started the car. She turned the heater on and sat there letting the car warm up.

She put the car into reverse and began to pull out of the lot. When she reached the road, she turned the knob on the radio. From the speakers came an ad for the megaplex movie theatre that was showing 20 different movies. It was such a change from when she and the girls would walk into town and go to the Odeon Theatre. They showed one movie which ran every evening and 4 times on Saturday. Each Friday a new movie would premier.

As the ad ended the disc jockey came on and introduced the next song. Mary Alice wondered if they were programming just for her today. This day she returned to Rogers Bay after being gone for 20-years.

This song had been the #1 hit the week, Mary Alice actually left town.

Turning right out of the parking lot, she followed the road down about 2 miles and made a left onto “Old Cemetery Road.” Another chill formed at the base of Mary Alice’s spine and worked its way up to the base of her neck. She reached down and turned the heat up higher, even though she knew it was not the cold, but was generated by her thoughts.

The iron gates of the “Blessed Eternity” cemetery loomed ahead. Driving under the archway Mary Alice thought back to the last time she had actually been on this property. It had been the day before she had packed the Colt and headed out of town.

Pulling deeper into the property, the tall trees planted throughout blocked out even more of the gray day light, bringing an extra gloom to this depressing place.

Mary Alice pulled over, turned of the radio and, once again, as she turned the key the car rattled to silence. She wondered when the time would come when she tried to start the Colt and it would sit, without coming to life.

Opening the door, she was shocked to realize it seemed even colder here then on the open cliff over the bay. Again, she wondered if it was truly the weather.

Walking between the headstones, she walked directly to the one she was looking for. She did not even wonder how she could remember its exact location after twenty years. Looking down at the engraving the tears came without warning. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a tissue and began wiping them away as fast as they came.

Her thoughts flashed back to that Saturday at the movies once again. When the three girls arrived at the theatre, Mary Beth, Elizabeth and Lee Ann were waiting a few doors down smoking cigarettes. The “Bay Babes” had all taken up smoking at the same time over the past summer. It gave them another common bond that the “outsiders’ could not join in on.

They stood around for a bit and then headed into the theatre to see “Pretty In Pink.” They all strolled down the aisle, enjoying the whispers that followed them, both the whispers of jealousy and the whispers of hate.

When the movie ended the “Bay Babes” all left the theatre and began walking down the sidewalk. Mary Alice was chatting with Ann and Lee Ann. Behind them Mary Beth, Elizabeth and Liz J. all walked together chatting.

When they arrived at King’s Burgers, they took their normal table just inside the door. This way, everyone who entered or left would have to pass the table of the most important group in Rogers Bay.

After their Pepsi's and burgers were delivered, Elizabeth looked over at Mary Alice and, with a smile on her face, spoke, “So, Mary Alice…you mom is slutting around with Mr. Hill and your dad kicked her out of the house. That must suck for you.”

Mary Alice practically leaped across the table and the two girls fell to the floor scratching and hitting each other. It took all four of the other girls to pull them apart.

Once they were separated, Mr. King told them all to get out and that they would be banned if they ever did anything like this ever again. Mary Alice stormed out of the restaurant and left her friends behind.

That Monday at school, Mary Alice stayed to herself even after Elizabeth tried to apologize and Ann tried to act as a mediator. Mary Alice just hated Elizabeth for her words and wanted nothing to do with her.

She also knew, deep in her heart that Elizabeth had spoken the truth and hated her mother for putting her in that situation.

When she sat by herself at lunch she could hear the other kids whispering and knew that the subject of the fight at King’s was now oozing throughout the school and that by the end of the day every student would know of her family’s dirty secret.

Looking down at the headstone, Mary Alice’s tears came even harder as the words choked out of her…”How could you… why did you have to ruin my life?”

End of Part One….

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - V.E.M.
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 3/12/07

Couch Matinee: "ROGERS BAY" Episode 2

2010-09-07T00:01:00.001-05:00

Though she had apologized, Elizabeth Stevens was feeling particularly chipper on Tuesday morning as she got ready for school. To make things better, the local station was playing her new favorite song...

Though the “Bay Babes” were seen as a tight-knit group by outsiders, and even by its own members, in truth Elizabeth Stevens had always hated Mary Alice Silber.

Elizabeth hated Mary Alice for the warm family she had had their entire friendship. She hated her because her house was one of the nicest in Rogers Bay and she especially hated her because Mary Alice always had the most fashionable clothes available in the small town.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
2 Chili Dogs, Large Fries and Large Drink
$2.25

PART ONE HERE

Though she had apologized, Elizabeth Stevens was feeling particularly chipper on Tuesday morning as she got ready for school. To make things better, the local station was playing her new favorite song...

Though the “Bay Babes” were seen as a tight-knit group by outsiders, and even by its own members, in truth Elizabeth Stevens had always hated Mary Alice Silber.

Elizabeth hated Mary Alice for the warm family she had had their entire friendship. She hated her because her house was one of the nicest in Rogers Bay and she especially hated her because Mary Alice always had the most fashionable clothes available in the small town.

Elizabeth’s home life was not pleasant. Though some may have suspected, no one knew the extent of her father’s violent behavior, especially after he came home from a night of bowling and drinking at the Bay Bowl & Bar (or Triple B, as the locals knew it). Until she was 15, her father had never hit her, but then one night soon after her 15th birthday, Elizabeth tried to get between her father and mother during a particularly nasty argument and she felt the back of her father’s hand and found herself flying across the room.

He had apologized the next morning upon sobering up, but the “genie was out of the bottle” and Elizabeth knew life at home was never going to be the same. A good dose of makeup kept anyone from seeing the bruise his hand had caused, so her secret stayed safe.

When Liz J. had mentioned the situation at Mary Alice’s home on Saturday, Elizabeth had nearly jumped with joy. The “perfect girl” had a blemish. Even her parents still stayed together with all of their problems, not letting the town see behind their curtains. She could barely contain herself until they got to King’s Burgers and had to bite her tongue more then once waiting for additional people to show up. It would have been no fun to have pushed Mary Alice’s secret into her face without an audience.

Elizabeth did not expect the reaction she received, did not expect Mary Alice to come flying at her, so it caught her off-guard. This resulted in a small gash at the back of her head and scratch marks across her neck. No, she did not expect to be injured. What she wanted was for Mary Alice to run out crying in front of all of the kids that day.

No matter, what were a few scratches and a bump in comparison to the total humiliation Mary Alice had faced on Monday? Why she even had to eat by herself at the end of a table populated by the “short-bus” students. That was pure joy for Elizabeth.

The other “Bay Babes” had all bought Elizabeth’s “sincere” apology and were a bit put off by Mary Alice’s refusal to even consider speaking to Elizabeth. When Ann had turned and said “WELL, Mary Alice is sure acting like a little princess. Like none of us have any problems in our lives. If she can’t forgive one of us for a silly remark, well maybe she wasn’t ‘Bay Babe’ material after all,” well, Elizabeth almost yelped with pleasure.

Yes soon, she - Elizabeth Stevens, would be the leader of the “Bay Babes” and would have her chance at Travis Kelso, the quarterback on the County High Falcons football team. She had noticed Travis checking out Mary Alice the last few weeks and knew it was only time before he asked her to the junior prom. Well now, with the Silber family scandal the talk of the town, Travis would never ask Mary Alice. Elizabeth knew how to get his attention. She had heard the whispers from the junior girls, about how Travis liked to be touched just so. She had a plan for next Saturday at the movies and knew if she could pull it off, she would be one of the few sophomore girls at the Junior Prom in May.

As Mary Alice turned from the headstone, she absent-mindedly dropped the soaked tissue on the ground. A gush of wind took the discarded wad and blew it down the aisle made by the headstones until it came to rest at the base of one of the taller oaks on the property.

A gloved hand scooped down from behind the tree and grabbed the tissue before it could be taken away again. The hand placed the tissue in a small baggie and then into the pocket of a dark blue coat as the eyes of this watcher followed the receding figure of Mary Alice Silber.

Shock was the initial reaction when he saw the old Dodge Colt moving slowly down Main Street. It had been 20-years, but the car was one he would never forget. Sitting in his patrol cruiser he was certain the occupant had not noticed him parked in an alley four stores from where Silber’s Diner had once been. Travis Kelso, former star quarterback of the high school team, now deputy sheriff for Bay County had no doubt the woman behind the wheel of the car moving slowly past him was Mary Alice Silber. Though 20-years older, her face had not changed enough to make Travis think twice. The girl who had left town in the cover of darkness and with many questions swirling around her had made her way back to Rogers Bay, and Deputy Sheriff Travis Kelso was going to find out why.

He had pulled out and stayed back to not cause her to notice. When she made the left turn up “Cliff Road” Travis stopped and waiting. There were only so many places one could go driving up that road, so no use being noticed.

When he saw her car in the parking lot of the Overlook, he drove up another 50 yards and slipped out of his cruiser. Walking through the woods he watched as Mary Alice stood overlooking the Bay. At one point he wondered if, just maybe, this woman had returned to Rogers Bay to drive up to this overlook, walk to the edge and take one last step forward resulting in a straight drop to the waves and rocks below. When she turned from and began walking back to her car Travis realized he had been holding his breathe. After everything that had occurred, that was a strange reaction, he thought to himself.

Hurrying back to his car he saw Mary Alice drive by and knew immediately where she was headed. He passed the main entrance to “Blessed Eternity” and pulled down the service road and turned the car around so he was facing the main road. Stepping out of the car, he also knew exactly where Mary Alice would head and knew the large oak would provide cover for him.

Watching the scene in front of the headstone unfold, Travis was surprised as he saw Mary Alice wiping tear after tear away from her face. He supposed she would not come here to laugh, but the amount of tears surprised him.

When she dropped the tissue he had planned to collect it after she left. The gust of wind blowing it right to his feet only made his job easier. He was glad the weather was a bit chilly and that he had worn gloves that morning.

Mary Alice made her way back to the Colt and slid into the front seat. Blowing on her hands she wished she had packed a pair of gloves. ‘Did you think it was still going to be summer here? Twenty years is not long enough to forget the chill that always descended upon Rogers Bay in October,’ she silently scolded

Slipping the key into the ignition Mary Alice was startled when the radio blared out of the tinny speakers. Hadn’t she turned the volume down before turning the ignition off?

No matter. What did matter was the song being played. A shiver ran up and down her spine. Did the DJ know she had slipped into town on this day? Was he someone who knew all about her past and what songs would cause her to be unnerved most?

Shaking her head, she caught a glimpse of herself in the car mirror. She really had not changed that much in 20-years. Sure her face was more mature and the first strands of gray were appearing in her auburn hair, but time had treated her kindly. She laughed at this thought. Not a ha-ha type of laugh but a dark, sad laugh of someone who knew that she should have looked so much older. That time should have aged her for all she had gone through.

After that Monday 20 years ago, Mary Alice had decided that Elizabeth Stevens was just a total bitch and she was not going to let her ruin her life. That evening she made a call to Ann and talked to her with an open heart. “Ann, I am so sorry for the way I reacted Saturday, but Elizabeth just had no right to throw that in my face. I am shocked Liz J. even said anything. I thought we were all friends. Look, I want to let this all move past and just go on. What my stupid mother and father do is not going to ruin my life.”

Ann, while still harboring a feeling that Mary Alice was playing the ‘princess’, could not turn from her oldest friend and by the end of the call the two girls were crying tears of friendship. When they hung up Mary Alice called Mary Beth and then Lee Ann and had similar conversations with both of them. These two girls were the followers of the group and once they had hung up, they each called Ann to get her reaction. When they found out that Ann was going to welcome Mary Alice back in the group, they committed to doing so also.

Next for Mary Alice was a call to Liz J. This conversation went a bit differently with Mary Alice first apologizing as she had with the others, but then going on the defensive to a point regarding Liz J’s lack of confidence. “Gee Liz, I had told you two, didn’t you think I would tell the rest? It really wasn’t YOUR place to talk about my personal business, especially with me being no more then 10 feet away.”

“Mary Alice, I don’t know why it came out sweetie. We were just talking and I blurted it out. I didn’t mean to hurt you girl. We are ‘Bay Babes’ and we are always loyal, please forgive me?”

Mary Alice did so and another round of tears flowed. After that, she turned off the light in her room and fell asleep. Not soundly, but better then she had slept in a few nights. The next day everything would be back to normal, except for one last conversation she needed to have. This one would not take place on the phone in private, however…this one was going to be special.

At 8:32 the next morning Mary Alice walked into her homeroom. She looked around and smiled at Travis Kelso. She knew from one of his friends that Travis was thinking of asking her out and was hopeful that her parent’s situation would not change his mind. Looking across the room she saw Elizabeth and Liz J. chatting and she waved at them. Internally she was pleased to see the look of wonder on Elizabeth’s face and then watched as she whispered something to Liz J. When Liz answered her back, Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open and her head snapped back in Mary Alice’s direction.

Step One, Mary Alice thought. Then she walked straight up to Travis and put her hand on his shoulder. Her tiny fingers began to massage his shoulder slowly, just as she had heard from the girls in gym. As she did so, Travis looked up at her with big puppy dog eyes. Mary Alice turned and smiled back at Elizabeth, her eyes saying, ‘Watch who you mess with.’ She may have fired the first shot, but Mary Alice was not retreating from this battle.

When Mr. Dixon walked into the room and greeted the students, Mary Alice quickly leaned down and put a soft peck on Travis’s cheek. His face went red, but the smile on his lips told her it was a good blush that had caused it.

At the end of class Mary Alice practically jumped up and moved to Travis’s side. As Elizabeth and Liz J. came over, she cooed “Travis, how about we check out the new movie on Saturday?”

She could practically see the steam coming out of Elizabeth’s ears.

At lunch, all of the talk between the “Bay Babes” was of the impending date on Saturday. All of the other girls were thrilled for Mary Alice, all but Elizabeth who sat there fuming the entire time.

The rest of the week went on without any major events. Mary Alice and Elizabeth slowly slipped into a cool, but agreeable relationship, but of course all the ‘Babes” knew that something was off with their group.

Each tried to speak with the two and get them to resolve their differences, but the only responses they received was that “everything was just fine, no worries.”

That Saturday was the first date for Travis and Mary Alice, but it was not the last. They became THE couple at County High. Of course Mary Alice was still a “Bay Babe” and she even got Travis to talk to some of the other players on the team and got them to notice the sophomores. Each of the “Bay Babes” began dating a football player. And this became the ultimate power clique.

All seemed to be going along smoothly, with even Mary Alice and Elizabeth warming up to each other over the next month and a half.

Plans were made for the Junior Prom and it was decided that the 12 would all go together, even getting permission to add two chairs to the normally ten person table.

The theme was based upon the Chicago Song from the year before.

The girls all shopped for dresses together and giggled on the phone about the ‘big day.’ In the end, they were the only sophomores girls invited to the junior prom and that made the “Bay Babes” ‘immortal’ in their minds.

In the meantime, Mary Alice was still dealing with her parents and the fighting that went on in the restaurant even when there were customers present.

Mr. Hill stopped making deliveries to their place, instead sending his partner, but Mary Alice knew this was just so he didn’t have to face her father. She had noticed his car down the block from the restaurant in the evenings when she left with her dad, and knew that he was waiting for her mother up in the apartment.

One day in May, with less then two weeks before prom, she finally confronted her mother. They were alone in the restaurant on a Saturday morning. Her father had gone to deliver an order for a party the next town over.

“Mom, how could you do that to dad and me? Why would you want to be with that Mr. Hill anyway? He always smells of cheap cologne.” This came out of no where. Mary Alice was not even ready when the words cascaded from her lips.

“Dear, there is so much you still have to learn. You dad and I haven’t been happy for years. It has nothing to do with Mr. Hill. He just happened to be there when I needed someone. He really is a nice man, and if you would just give him a chance and talk…”
“MOM, I don’t want to give him a chance! I don’t want to talk to him. Do you know how tough this is for me??? DO you know dad cries at home some nights??? Do you know that everyone in town is talking..”

“Now, look here young lady. I could give a rat’s ass what people in town say. DO they talk about the Steven’s and how he slaps his wife around? And yes, he has hit Elizabeth too. I heard Harriet Stevens talking about it at the beauty parlor about a year ago. Did you know that? Did you know he was an abuser??? And what about your friend Ann? Did you ever wonder where her brother disappeared to? What was it three years ago, when he was 17? All of a sudden, one day he was gone, did you ever wonder?”

“Yes, he joined the army and is stationed overseas.” “No dear. He is serving time in the state prison for molesting a little girl over in Shreive City. She was only 11 years old. How do you think her life is going? You see every family has their little ‘situations,’ yours could be a lot worse.”

Mary Alice sat there stunned. Jeremy Murphy, a child molester...in prison??? Mary Alice had a crush on him when she was 11 years old, 5 years ago, when he was 12, how could it be? A shiver ran up her spine.

“Well, I still hate that you are making my daddy cry and that you are ruining our life. Why can’t you move home? Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

The sting from her mother’s palm caused stars to float in front of her eyes. “Young lady, you may not be happy with me, but you WILL respect me.”

Mary Alice rubbed her cheek and looked her mother straight in the eyes. “You know what mom, go screw Mr. Hill…and while you are at it, go screw yourself.”

She ran from the restaurant with tears flowing down her cheeks, crying “How could you…how could you ruin my life???”

End of Part Two

Next week… the conclusion……..

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - V.E.M.
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 3/19/07

Couch Matinee: "ROGERS BAY" Episode 3

2010-09-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

It was a beautiful spring day. The songs of the sea birds and the crashing of the waves below Lookout Park were broken by the anguished scream as the body tumbled through the air. Arms and legs kicking and flailing, as if trying to stop the fall…the scream finally ending as the body met the rocks on the base of the cliff and a wave washed over it.

Two days later, Sheriff Flynn and two of his deputies were crawling over the rocks from the nearby beach to reach the body. When they did, Deputy Stanfield immediately turned and lost his McDonalds lunch into the bay.

PART ONE
PART TWO

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
Large Buttered Popcorn and Large Drink
$1.25

It was a beautiful spring day. The songs of the sea birds and the crashing of the waves below Lookout Park were broken by the anguished scream as the body tumbled through the air. Arms and legs kicking and flailing, as if trying to stop the fall…the scream finally ending as the body met the rocks on the base of the cliff and a wave washed over it.

Two days later, Sheriff Flynn and two of his deputies were crawling over the rocks from the nearby beach to reach the body. When they did, Deputy Stanfield immediately turned and lost his McDonalds lunch into the bay. The body had been caught in a crevice between the rocks and had been pounded on for two days. It also appeared the sea birds had been snacking.

After Deputy Woods had taken some pictures with the digital camera, they allowed the men from the Coroner's office to step forward and put the body into one of those black bags.

An hour later the County Coroner Doctor Pamplin was examining the body as Sheriff Flynn watched through the wall of glass.

After Mary Alice had left her mother, she went right home. That evening when her father walked into the house she knew she was in for it.

“Mary Alice, you might be mad at your mom for all the things going on, but I will NOT allow you to speak to her like you did today.”

“But dad, she left us, why should I even care what she thinks?”

“Young lady, she is still your mother, nothing is going to change that and we taught you to respect your elders and you will do so.”

“But dad, she hurt you and she hurt me, I don’t care if she is hurt any more.”

“Mary Alice, I will NOT allow you to speak like that. Your mother is doing what she has to. I am not happy about it, but it is probably for the best for both of us and in the end for you.”

“NO DAD, IT IS NOT FOR THE BEST FOR ME. I DON’T WANT TO EVER TALK TO HER AGAIN, AND I DON’T HAVE TO.”

Mary Alice stormed out the door and headed straight to Ann’s house where she asked her friend if she could spend the night, and “maybe longer.”

“I just can’t stay with my dad, he is such a wimp. If he was a real man, he would kick Mr. Hill’s stupid ass all over Main Street.”

Ann comforted her friend and spoke with her mother, getting permission for her friend to spend a few days until she got past this problem. Mrs. Murphy called over to Mary Alice’s dad to let him know where his daughter was and to assure him she would be cared for.

One day became a week and a week became a month. Mary Alice brought most of her clothes over to the Murphy’s and settled in to the spare bedroom.

She still went to the restaurant to help her dad. Their relationship slowly healed and plans were made for her to move back home at the end of the school year. She and her mother hardly spoke, hardly acknowledged each other’s existence.

The stress of moving out of her home was putting some stress on her relationship with Travis also. Travis Kelso’s father Matt was the mayor of the town of Rogers Bay. His mother was all about appearances and how the people in the town would feel about everything the Kelso’s did. Travis was pounded on nightly about dating the girl whose mother was living with another man while being married and how Mary Alice could not even live in her own home. His dad sat there and never spoke, as it was really Mrs. Kelso who ran the household.

Travis in turn would continually push Mary Alice to move back in with her dad; “Look, it would be better for us if you would just move home.”

“Why do I care what other people think Travis?”

"M.A., look, appearances mean everything in life and I have college coaches coming around and I need them to see me in a good place.”

These conversations went on day after day, and others began to notice, especially Elizabeth. Even though she was dating Wayne Robins, who was the star running back and also pitched for the school team, still had visions of being with Travis. She began finding private ways of talking to Travis under the ruse of “just trying to help.” But in reality she was plotting to steal him away.

Everything came to a head three weeks before prom. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and Elizabeth had lured Travis to her house to “talk.” They were sitting on the couch in her living room, her parents out for the day, and when she saw her opening, Elizabeth leaned in and kissed Travis on the lips. He immediately pulled back.

“What are you doing? What if Mary Alice or Wayne found out?”

“Oh Travis, you know that I am only with Wayne because I can’t be with you.” As she spoke her fingers began to rub his shoulder, using the technique she knew would get to his weak side. “And I also know your mom would prefer you were with someone who makes a better appearance for you.”

Elizabeth ignored the fact that her household was not the best for appearances sake and plowed on. As her left hand continued to rub his shoulder, her right began to rub another body part that makes it hard for any man to resist and after a few minutes the two were embraced in serious petting. Soon they were out of their clothes, on the floor having sex.

When they were done, they dressed and Elizabeth walked Travis to the door. “I will tell Wayne I can’t go to the prom with him tomorrow.”

“Wait Elizabeth, do you think this means I am breaking up with Mary Alice? I can’t have all that drama now. Let’s just get past the end of school and then we will see what happens, but we can’t talk about this.”

“What the hell do you mean? What was that just now - screw the bimbo? Who the hell do you think you are?” Elizabeth’s right hand shot out, but Travis saw it coming and blocked the blow with his arm. He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her against the wall.

“Look, you wanted it, you got it…now keep your mouth shut or,” and now his face was right against hers “what your father did to you and your mom will look like a love-in,” he hissed. “If you screw this up for me I will make you wish you were never born.”

With that Travis walked out. If he hadn’t he would have seen the look of hate that crossed Elizabeth’s face, and then that look turned into a leer.

From across the street, a figure moved from behind some bushes. The look on Elizabeth’s face was nothing compared to the look on Mary Alice’s face as she watched Travis get into his car and drive away.

Striding across the street, her body language would tell anyone she was not to be messed with. When she got to the front door, she did not knock, but banged on it with the side of her fist. When the door opened she lunged forward and, for the second time in two months the two girls were on the floor punching and kicking, only this time there was no one to separate them.

As they scratched and punched Elizabeth was yelling “And he wasn’t that good, but I screwed him and will screw him again!” over and over.

“You stupid bitch, I will kill you, I will kill you,” screamed Mary Alice.

All of a sudden, two hands grabbed Elizabeth who was on top and hurled her across the room. Then they grabbed Mary Alice and pushed her out the door. “You come in my house again and I will make you regret it. Go back to your whore mother and wimp-ass father you little slut,” Growled Elizabeth’s father who had pulled into the driveway to see his front door open and the two girls on the floor fighting.

He slammed the door and, as Mary Alice staggered away heard his yelling and the sound of crying getting louder.

When Mary Alice got back to the Murphy’s, and saw and heard what had happened, Mrs. Murphy was furious and told Mary Alice to pack her things and that it was time to go back to her own house.

Ann tried to convince her mom to let Mary Alice to stay, but Mrs. Murphy would hear none of it and, after packing her bag, Mary Alice headed back to her house. She called her dad, who was just closing up the restaurant and told him she had decided it was time to come home but would be asleep before he got there.

She figured it would be better to have this discussion tomorrow, he was sure to hear about the fight from someone in town.

As she lay down her phone rang and she picked it up. “M.A., I called over at Ann’s and all her mom would say is you moved home. Is everything OK?”

“I hope she was good Travis, you asshole, don’t ever talk to me again...and you can go to the prom with her you ass.” And she slammed the phone down.

About 30-seconds late the phone rang again and Mary Alice picked it up. “Baby, I just got a call from Mrs. Stevens and she told me you and Elizabeth had a huge fight.”

Mary Alice was amazed, did the whole world know about this already? “What mom, did you call to gloat? Did she also tell you her slut daughter screwed Travis? Did she tell you her husband threw out of their house? Did you tell your lover about it already?”

“Mary Alice, no matter what is going on between us I am still your mother and I will never abandon you. Did that man hurt you, because if he did I will call Sheriff Flynn and have him arrested?”

“I don’t need your help mom, you don’t live here anymore.” With that, she hung up the phone. She walked to her door and locked it and climbed into bed where she soaked her pillow with tears.

When Doctor Pamplin was done, he tossed the disposable gown into a bin and walked into the room Sheriff Flynn was watching from. “Well Doc?”

“She was alive when she went off the cliff, I would say it was a suicide, but if there were any bruises beforehand, it would be hard to tell. She was in the water for at least two days, maybe more, so any evidence of a struggle would be washed away.”

Sheriff Flynn nodded and thanked the Doctor mumbling, “I hate this part…”

When Mary Alice woke up she dressed quickly and left the house happy that her father had to leave before her to open the restaurant. As it was spring, and the tourist season was beginning, he opened early.

When she got to school, she ran into Liz J. and Mary Beth. They had both spoken to Ann the evening before and knew of the fight and were waiting for her a block away. “Look, M.A., he is a slime, forget about him and if you want, I will not go to the prom and stay with you, we both will…we discussed it already,” Said Liz J.

Mary Alice hugged them both and thanked them. She also told them they could not miss out on the prom and she would not let them.

Ann walked up a few minutes later and also offered to stay home from the prom and got the same response as Mary Beth and Liz J did. The three girls then vowed that Elizabeth was no longer a “Bay Babe” and with that, the four walked to the school. As they walked in they saw Travis standing with some friends and he began to walk over. The three friends blocked him from getting to Mary Alice. Ann spoke up “Travis, just turn around and go find your little slut. If you bother M.A., you will have to deal with us.”

At that moment Elizabeth walked into school. Mary Alice knew what she looked like after their fight and even though she was wearing more makeup then normal, could tell that some of the bruises were applied after their fight was over.

She looked at the four girls and turned and walked down the hall without a comment.

Later that day Elizabeth and Wayne had a huge fight in the cafeteria. Of course he had heard about Elizabeth’s time with Travis and he dumped her in front of the entire school.

After school, Travis and Wayne had one of those fights high school boys have more often then not. A bunch of screaming, some shoving, but it came to nothing more. It was broken up by the baseball coach who threatened Wayne with suspension from the team if he got into any more “incidents.”

The day of the prom came and Mary Alice helped all three of her friends get ready and sent them off to have a great time. She then walked over to the high school to watch all the couples stream in. When she saw Travis and Elizabeth together, she cursed under her breath. That bitch would pay she seethed…

She was startled when a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around to come face to face with her mother. “I knew you would be here and I wanted to come and give you support. Oh Baby, don’t worry, you still have your junior prom and your senior prom.”

“God mom, why would you even come here?” That is when Mary Alice saw, standing behind her mother the root of all her problems. “AND WHY WOULD YOU BRING HIM HERE?”

She was so shocked by the site of Mr. Hill standing there that she didn’t realize how loudly she had shouted. Then she heard the commotion from across the street and realized everyone had heard and were looking over at her, her mother and the man she detested.

And she heard the other voice that made her skin crawl, Elizabeth…”Oh look everyone, it is Mary Alice and her mom with the boyfriend. Mary Alice, you doing threesomes now?”

Everyone in earshot began to laugh hysterically.

“Thanks mom, gee, you and Mr. Wonderful keep making my life better and better. I wish you were dead!"”

Mary Alice turned and ran in the opposite direction.

As the body went flying off the cliff, Mary Alice turned and walked back to her car.

“That is the last time you will ruin somebody’s life”

As Mary Alice pulled out of the “Blessed Eternity” cemetery, she smiled weakly. She drove to the Happy Acres motel 5 miles out of town and checked into room 203.

Picking up the phone, she dialed a number she knew by heart. “Hello...? Hello...? Is anyone there?”

Mary Alice put down the phone without speaking a word. Just hearing her father’s voice made her choke up. He sounded so old, so weak. If she were brave enough, she would have gone to see him, but she was not. She knew it and she knew if she had, she would blurt out the truth and that would surely kill him.

After she had left town, she read the papers and saw the reports of the body being found and that suicide was the cause. She read how the people who knew the victim spoke about all the problems she had over the last months, but how they could not understand why she would do what she had.

When Travis saw that Mary Alice had taken a room, he went back to the office and pulled out the file. The file he had read over and over once he had joined the Sheriff’s department.

If this had happened today, they would know so much more, but back then forensics were not as sophisticated. Maybe they would have found some evidence, maybe they would not. The body had been in the water for such a long time.

Today, when he saw the car, it all came flooding back. That year, the scene in Elizabeth’s house, the confrontation in the school the next day, the night of the prom. He had been furious at Elizabeth for shouting at Mary Alice when they saw her across the street as they entered.

The night was a total wreck and he had broken it off that next day. Three weeks later, two days after school had ended, the tragedy had occurred and then four days later, right after the funeral was held, Mary Alice was gone.

Her father told people that she could not deal with the whole situation and had decided to live with an aunt the next state over. Travis thought he would see her when she came back to visit, yet she never did.

Then, she is driving through town and visiting the spot of the tragedy – or was it something more? Travis now had more questions, especially after she visited the grave site.

Why was she back?

He would ask her the next day, he made himself that promise. Putting the file into his desk, he drove home. On the ride, he decided not to mention this to his wife Ann. It would just cause her to relive the nightmare.

They had married when Travis came back to Rogers Bay after blowing out his knee as a junior at State University. He could have finished his education, but came back and completed the 10 credits he needed at the local community college.

They had begun dating and got married 5 years later and now were the proud parents of two children, Travis, Jr. and Mary Beth, named after their good friend from high school.

His sleep was restless that night and the next morning Ann asked him if he was OK. He lied and told her everything was just fine and got into his patrol car and drove right to the Happy Acres motel.

When he pulled in the lot, he immediately saw that Mary Alice’s car was not there. Silently cursing, he pulled back out and hit the gas. He knew where he had to go and using his flashing lights, he sped up “Cliff Road”

His tires hit the gravel of the parking lot and he saw the car parked in the far corner. Not caring to be secretive any longer he sped to that end and hit his brakes hard.

He saw her standing by the edge looking out. He did not think she had even heard him pull up.

“Mary Alice?” he called as he walked up to about five feet away.

Without turning she replied “Hi Travis, I thought I saw you yesterday, you wouldn’t make a good spy.”

“Mary Alice, we need to talk.”

With that she turned around and faced him. “No Travis, there is nothing to talk about. There never was. You did what you did and I did what I had to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“OH Travis, you were always the most intelligent person I knew. I don’t have to explain it to you, do I? She hurt me, Trav. She was evil through and through. She ruined my life…she didn’t deserve to be happy.”

“Mary Alice, you better stop talking. I am not here as a friend, anything you say…”

Laughing out loud Mary Alice said “OH Travis, I know, ‘can be used against me in a court of law’. Next you will tell me that I have a right to an attorney, right? Do you really think that this will ever go to court?”

“M.A., why don’t we go back to the office and talk? You can call your dad and he can get someone to come and represent you. “

“I already called him Travis, he sounded so old, but he didn’t know it was me…or maybe he did, but I never spoke. We were always friendly Travis, please do me a favor and tell him I am sorry. I know that he was crushed by everything that happened. I hope he got over it and he found happiness eventually.”

“M.A., he never remarried, he never got over the loss…”

“I don’t want to know this Travis…I wish you hadn’t come here this morning, I hate that you are here.”

As she said the last words, Mary Alice smiled. It was a sad smile, one that contained twenty years of pain and guilt and abandon.

And then she took one step backward and disappeared over the edge right before Travis’ eyes…

THE END

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 3/26/07

Couch Matinee: "DARKNESS"

2010-09-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

The first thing he noticed looking in the mirror was the pallid yellow cast of his skin. The next thing was the two black dots in the middle of the seas of red that were his eyes. The palm of his right hand traced his jaw line feeling the stubble of his unshaven face.

When was the last time he had shaved? Andy Simons could not remember. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten either. Looking in the mirror at himself, he wondered how much longer he could go on.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
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$4.50

The first thing he noticed looking in the mirror was the pallid yellow cast of his skin. The next thing was the two black dots in the middle of the seas of red that were his eyes. The palm of his right hand traced his jaw line feeling the stubble of his unshaven face.

When was the last time he had shaved? Andy Simons could not remember. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten either. Looking in the mirror at himself, he wondered how much longer he could go on.

Turning, he looked to where the windows would be. Of course he couldn’t see out of them. He had nailed plywood over every one of them, what was it a day ago, a week, a month ago? He had left just the top 12” uncovered to allow the light of day to come into the home. When dark came, he would turn on the small night lights he had plugged into almost every outlet throughout the house.

How long had he been inside? How long had this nightmare been going on? Why did it all have to change? Why did his parents have to die? Why did his sisters have to run to the other side of the country? Why had he slugged the manager of the fast food restaurant where he once worked? How long ago was that?

Then he heard the scratching again. He walked to the door leading to the basement and opened it just a crack. “QUIET” he bellowed, and slammed the door.

His feet padded down the hallway, barely separating from the worn beige carpet which covered the entire house. Andy had even placed carpet in the kitchen. He hated bare floors of any kind.

Approaching the refrigerator, he tore off a single sheet of paper towel and grasped the handle on the door and pulled gently. The refrigerator door opened and Andy Simons shrank back from the light. Even such a low wattage bulb was too bright for eyes which had been in the semi-darkness for so long. The hand with the paper towel reached out and he slammed it against the bulb shattering it into hundreds of tiny shards.

His head snapped around at the sound of a car passing the house. He stood stock still until the sound drifted away. Just yesterday he had feared the worst when he heard a car come to a stop outside his small ranch house. The neighborhood he lived in was almost totally deserted, the residents having moved away from the increasing intrusion of gangs and drugs.

Andy was not moving. They could not make him move. The plywood on the windows gave him a sense of security. His house now looked like all of the others which were abandoned. As long as the hoods and druggies stayed away, there would be no problems.

If they did attempt to invade his domain, they would come face to face with the end of their existence. Andy Simons was not a large man at all. In fact, most of his life he was pitied for his stature. Now, after such a long period of time in the house, he was even more emaciated then before. Only 5’7” tall, before his self-imposed exile he weighed barely 150 pounds. Now, he could not guess at his weight, but could see the skin clinging to his bones, and knew he was slowly shrinking to nothing. Could a person just disappear from weight-loss he wondered?

But he was not worried. Throughout the house he had weapons hidden. Weapons of all sorts were stashed; knives, axes, baseball bats, mace, and even two rifles. No, they would not survive if they tried to storm his castle.

How long had he been inside? How long had this nightmare been going on? Why did it all have to change? Why did his parents have to die? Why did his sisters have to run to the other side of the country? Why had he slugged the manager of the fast food restaurant where he once worked? How long ago was that?

That was when he realized he was still standing in front on the open refrigerator. When he looked back inside, he wondered why it was so dark. Why was the light not working? And then he saw the shards of glass inside. How did the light break he wondered?

Reaching inside he grabbed the can of baked beans with the hand still holding the paper towel. Walking to the counter, he placed the can down and, still using the paper towel he pulled open a drawer and grabbed a fork. Andy went to grab the can and stopped short. He had almost touched the can with his bare hand. How could he be so stupid?

He tore another sheet off the roll with his left hand and picked up the can. Using the tines of the fork, he pulled back the top which was open, but still attached, and looked inside. It was hard to see since the daylight had begun to fade but Andy thought he had opened this can just yesterday. It felt like yesterday, yes, it must have been yesterday. Scooping the fork down inside Andy pushed the fork into his mouth and immediately spat the beans into the sink. Looking closer he saw tiny white larvae squirming amongst the beans.

He dropped the can into the sink alongside the maggots and beans and grabbed the faucet and turned it. Leaning his head under the stream of water he gulped and spat, gulped and spat. How could you be so stupid, he chided himself?

Turning, he tossed the two paper towels and the fork into the garbage and reached for two more paper towels. He then opened the cabinet above the sink. Reaching in, he grabbed one of the 50 other cans of beans that were stacked neatly there, each can aligned perfectly. He put the can into the automatic can opener on the shelf and pushed the button. He watched carefully and when the top was almost entirely cut, he stopped the device and removed it.

He then opened the drawer once again and grabbed another fork. He stuck it into the can and began shoveling the beans into his mouth. As he did so, he began to shuffle out of the kitchen toward the living room area. As he passed the basement door he kicked it and yelled “QUIET!” Then he stopped and tilted his head. Had he heard a voice, or was it a noise, or was it in his head?

How long had he been inside? How long had this nightmare been going on? Why did it all have to change? Why did his parents have to die? Why did his sisters have to run to the other side of the country? Why had he slugged the manager of the fast food restaurant where he once worked? How long ago was that?

Continuing on, he found himself in the living room and practically fell into the lone chair. Andy sat there, the room in almost total darkness now, continuing to scoop the beans into his mouth. As he did so, his head was cocked to the side toward the outside, listening. It was almost night and that is when they came out of hiding. The denizens that now inhabited this once thriving neighborhood.

Andy had grown up in this house, when it was a home; with his parents and two sisters. They were all gone now, mom and dad to cancer when he was in his late teens. His sisters had left after that. He had not spoken to them since. How long was it now? Andy could not fathom. It would mean knowing how old he was and that was something he hadn’t known for a long time.

The tines of the fork clanged against the bottom of the can. Andy was surprised he had finished the whole can, but maybe it was better this way he thought. At least he knew he would not have to experience the maggots again.

From outside came new sounds. The sound of car engines moving up and down the street…slowly. The trade had begun. The users from the nicer neighborhoods were rolling up and down the streets looking for the dealers with the best products and the best prices.

Andy tossed the empty can of beans against the far wall in disgust. Why did it all have to change? Why did his parents have to die? Why did his sisters have to run to the other side of the country? Why had he slugged the manager of the fast food restaurant where he once worked? How long ago was that? It was the only job Andy ever had. After that, well he had all the money he wanted from the inheritance. When his sisters left, they left all the money behind.

He had everything he could want. Before he locked himself away he had purchased 100 cases of baked beans. They were the food of the gods in Andy’s mind. They had all the nutrition you needed. He also had the 50 cases of canned black bread for when he wanted to clean the bean cans of their juices. When was the last time he had opened a can of bread? Again, Andy could not remember. So many things were slipping from his mind these days.

The noises from outside grew louder and then there were voices. Close. Andy leaped up and walked to the front window and put his eye against the small hole he had left in the center of the plywood. The lights on the street no longer worked, but he could make out bodies gathered across the street.

A large group, and their voices grew louder and louder. They were gathered around a 55 gallon drum in which they had started a fire with odd pieces of wood and papers. The air must be getting chilly Andy thought, they would be building more fires as the winter set in. He hated the fires, hated them. "GO AWAY" yelled the voice in his head. Or did Andy scream it out loud? He could not be certain, but watched the animals to make sure they ahd not heard him.

A car came down the street slowly and as Andy watched he saw a flash from inside the car and a millisecond later heard the report from the gun. One of the bodies by the fire fell to the ground and the others scattered. The car did not speed up as more gunshots came from inside.

Then those on the street began firing back. Loud gunshots filled the air and the dark was broken with the muzzle flashes.

Screams filled Andy’s ears and his hands went up to cover them. The gunshots continued and then Andy felt himself fall to the floor.

The screams, he realized, were his. And then the pain came. Andy looked down to see a small circle of red on his white shirt. As he watched, the circle began to grow wider and wider.

His hands fell from his ears as he stared in wonder. He wondered who would eat all the beans and bread now.

How long had he been inside? How long had this nightmare been going on? Why did it all have to change? Why did his parents have to die? Why did his sisters have to run to the other side of the country? Why had he slugged the manager of the fast food restaurant where he once worked? How long ago was that?

An Original Work Of Fiction Copyright 2007 - V.E.M.
Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 2/26/07

Couch Matinee: "THE FIGURINE"

2010-09-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

He looked at the mantle above the fireplace and sighed. The space next to the plant was vacant. No, not just vacant, there was a hole…a void, a hollowness that he could not believe.

The figurine was the most beautiful piece he had ever laid eyes on. That day, two years ago when he was ambling through the shops was beautiful, sun shining, the sky a rich cloudless blue…he will always remember the day, no matter how many more he walked the earth.

Not looking for anything special, he was just enjoying himself, treating himself to a day alone.

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He looked at the mantle above the fireplace and sighed. The space next to the plant was vacant. No, not just vacant, there was a hole…a void, a hollowness that he could not believe.

The figurine was the most beautiful piece he had ever laid eyes on. That day, two years ago when he was ambling through the shops was beautiful, sun shining, the sky a rich cloudless blue…he will always remember the day, no matter how many more he walked the earth.

Not looking for anything special, he was just enjoying himself, treating himself to a day alone. Then he saw it. It was hidden with a number of other less desirable figurines. They were all special in their own way, but this one…well, this one sparkled.

He reached out carefully, his fingertips touching one of the others, and feeling the cold of it’s surface. They wrapped around this special one and he could feel his fingertips begin to tingle. This was a special gift. There was no doubt.

The marble, normally cold to the touch, was awash in a warmth he did not think possible...It was almost frightening to him how wonderful this figurine felt. Could anything be this good? Could anything hold this much warmth?

Lifting it slowly, he turned it over in his hands, examining it and allowing himself to be swallowed by its beauty. As he turned it to look at the bottom, his heart dropped. There on the bottom was a tiny sticker. One word written in the scratchy hand of the store owner, he presumed. The one word..."SOLD".

Walking over to the counter where the old man sat, silently reading the morning paper, he spoke up, “Excuse me?” the man spoke quietly. The shop owner looked up and smiled, and then his eyes trailed to the figurine in the customers hand and his eyes saddened, but just for an instant.

“Can I help you young man?” the old man spoke. His voice was rough, but filled with a wisdom that was unmistakable.

“Yes, I saw this incredible figurine and I have fallen in love with it. But, I see it says “sold” on the bottom. Is this true? If it is sold, why is it still on the shelf?”

“Well, you see son, a man did buy that figurine. He paid in cash and told me he would be returning that day to pick it up. I have not seen him again, but since he paid, I need to keep the sticker on and not resell it. I am sorry, there are many other fine figurines here, maybe we can find you anoth…”

“No, that is fine. This is the one I want. If it is not for sale, then I shall move on and continue my day.”

With that, he walked out of the shop, a quick glance backward allowing him to see the shop owner tenderly replacing the figurine where it had been before…

That night he had a dream of the figurine. His dream showed him holding the figurine, showing his friends, bragging about how special it was and how it was all his.

When he woke he knew he had to have it. He began to stop back every day and ask the shop owner if he could buy it. Eventually, the old man would have to capitulate and allow him to own this beautiful object.

Every day he stopped. Every day he looked and held the figurine. Every day the shop owner tried to sell him another figurine, and refused to sell the one he truly wanted.

Then, one day he stopped by and nodded to the owner. The owner gave him a smile and the man wondered why it seemed different today. He walked over to the table and slowly lifted the object of his desire. It once again tingled in his fingertips as he held it. It was warm to his touch…and it felt different. He could not figure out how and why, but immediately he knew there was a difference.

Slowly, ever so slowly he tilted the precious item in his hand and looked at the bottom. It was empty. No little sticker…no scratchy handwriting.

His head shot up and turned to look at the old man behind the counter. The old man sat smiling, his eyes sparkling…"Yes, young man…it is for sale again. The gentleman who purchased it came in yesterday and told me he could not purchase it. He didn’t even ask for his money back…he just told me and turned and walked out of the store."

The man looked again at the figurine. Could it be true? Was he really about to finally own this incredible piece? He looked at the owner and said “Name your price, anything…it is worth it.”

The store owner quoted the price of the figurine. The man was shocked. It was expensive, no doubt, but in the end he would have paid triple the price. This is the one piece he had always imagined owning...and that dream was about to become reality.

That was a year ago now…and today, sitting on his couch looking at the emptiness of the mantle, he cried. Long, hard tears flowed down his face…how could it be? How could it have been taken from him?

He wondered if he were to blame. When he first brought the figurine home, he worshiped it. Every morning he would walk over to the mantle and gently touch the figurine. Every evening just before he got into bed he did the same. Every day…day after day….

About a month ago, something had come up in the morning and hen he left for work, he forgot to touch his figurine. He thought of it on his ride to work and even throughout the day. That night when he got home he walked directly to the mantle and whispered “I am sorry for leaving you alone for the day.”

But it happened once or twice more over the next couple of weeks. It was not that he loved his figurine any less; on the contrary, his love for it only grew stronger and stronger every day. His mind was distracted by problems with family and work. When he sat at night he always had a view of the figurine.

He had a couple of days away and was not there to touch his figurine. He missed it awfully and would close his eyes and picture it sitting there.

When he arrived home yesterday, he walked directly to the mantle and looked...and his heart sank. It was gone…

He looked all over his house…he knew he had not moved it, but he had to look anyway.

NOTHING!

He called for help, but no one he spoke with could give him an answer.

It was gone. Someone had come and taken it from right under his nose. Someone else was touching his figurine. Someone else was enjoying its beauty. Someone else was smiling, as the tears flowed down his face.

The next day he went to the shop and when he walked in the owner looked up at him. The man felt strange, there was no recognition in the owner's eyes, surely he could not have forgotten me already, could he?

“Hello, may I help you?” the shop owner spoke.

“Yes, the figurine I bought from you was stolen the other day and I am very saddened by it. I was wondering if you knew if there was another one like it anywhere.”

“You must be mistaken; I do not remember selling you any figurine. I remember you coming in and admiring one, but it was sold I told you that. I was just waiting for the owner to come back. ”

“Yes, yes, and I kept coming back every day and finally, you sold it to me a year ago...a stunningly beautiful figurine…please can you help me, where can I find one like it?”

"As far as another one like it, that was a one-of-a-kind piece. There are none like it anywhere." The owner continued, "Son, you never bought that figurine. The man who purchased it came back in and picked it up. He apologized for being delayed, but was excited to see I had not sold it and he was able to walk out of the shop with it. He was really beaming.”

“BUT, you sold it to ME!” the man cried….

“Sorry son, I think you must have imagined that last part. I could never sell you something that belonged to another…”

The man walked out of the shop just as it began to rain. All around him people were scurrying here and there to not get wet, but he just walked, head down, staring at the spot on the sidewalk where his next step would land.

The rain poured down on him, soaking every inch of fabric on his body, but nothing was as wet as his face from the tears streaming from his eyes…and he just walked…and walked…and walked…

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 7/18/07

Couch Matinee: "SWEETEST FEELING"

2010-09-03T00:01:00.001-05:00

They sat on the beach chairs they had positioned at the waters edge, watching the sun slowly rise in the east.

Side by side, his left hand holding her right across the space between the chairs. The waves gently lapped at their feet and ankles. Their toes buried in the warm wet sand.

The giant orange orb appeared slowly. The sky above changing shades from a dark black filled with millions upon millions of twinkling stars sliding to a deep blue, the light from the stars fading as the depth of color behind them lightened.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:
Crab Salad On A Bed Of Lettuce With A Large Drink

$4.50

They sat on the beach chairs they had positioned at the waters edge, watching the sun slowly rise in the east.

Side by side, his left hand holding her right across the space between the chairs. The waves gently lapped at their feet and ankles. Their toes buried in the warm wet sand.

The giant orange orb appeared slowly. The sky above changing shades from a dark black filled with millions upon millions of twinkling stars sliding to a deep blue, the light from the stars fading as the depth of color behind them lightened.

On the horizon, the sky was a radiant transition from the dark blue of the ocean to a brilliant white around the outer edges of the sun to yellow and oranges. The clouds above were showered in glorious shades of blues, yellows and reds reflecting the colors of the sky.

He gripped her hand tighter in a show of total devotion and she squeezed back, tilting her head slightly to look at this man she adored.

She could see a smile on his face, lit by the slowly rising sun.

The orb continued to show itself slowly, from a sliver to a quarter circle to a half circle and then, in what seemed to be a split second, the entire golden sun was above the horizon line and the sky became a light shade of blue. Above them, the moon, which just a few short minutes ago had been full and brilliant, was now just a faint ball of light in the sky.

They were still dressed in the evening wear from the night before. Having arrived the day before to this tropical paradise, their evening was one of memories.

Checking into the suite he had reserved, they unpacked their luggage silently. Words were not needed. Every movement and glance conveyed the thrill they both felt to be together. As they passed each other moving from the closet to the open cases on the bed, their hands would brush, a small kiss on the cheek or a hand on the hip was all that was needed between them.

After unpacking, they opened the bottle of Roederer Cristal Champagne left by the management of the resort. Tilting the glass at the proper angle, he poured her glass first then his own. Placing the bottle back into the silver iced bucket he took her hand and led her out to the balcony. Standing next to each other, face to face he looked into her eyes.

“Angel, I have waited for this moment since the day we met. I knew immediately you were the only one I wanted or needed in my life. Today we begin a wondrous journey, one of friendship, love, lust, desire and happiness.”

He touched the edge of his glass to hers and they both sipped the golden, smooth, bubbly wine.

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the bright of the afternoon, the smile on her lips sumptuous. “My darling, you’re the man I have been waiting for. You have made me the happiest woman.” Again, their glasses touched and then were brought to their lips, each savoring the delicate liquid; eyes locked in a loving gaze.

They stood there for what seemed forever, arms around each others waist looking out at the aqua colored glory of the ocean and the white sand beach. Shortly, silently, they turned in unison and made their way back into the room. The overhead fan turning slowly, the ocean breeze causing the thin curtains to billow into the room, they undressed each other slowly and then he pulled the comforter off the bed. They met on the cool linen sheets and spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the love they had discovered.

After a short nap, they woke and washed each other in the oversize shower which was part of the luxury suite that would be their home for the next week.

He moved into the bedroom, leaving her to use the bathroom as they both dressed; she in a black plunging v-neck dress with an open back. As she slid her feet into the shoes she smiled, knowing his love of this style and the reaction she would see in his eyes when he saw her in them.

He dressed in his tuxedo, vest and tie. He preferred the newer styling’s of a traditional tie rather than a bow tie, when wearing his tuxedo. The crisp white shirt showed off the silver of the tie and vest. His longer then normal jet black hair (now beginning to show strands of silver throughout), covering the collar of his shirt.

Looking in the mirror, he slid his arms into the jacket and adjusted his tie one last time. Walking out of the bedroom into the living room area, he stopped short. She was on the balcony, her back to him, watching as the sun slowly sank in the sky. Her skin was radiant even from where he stood. She had made sure she had a tan before coming down to the island, wanting to glow as she did now.

His eyes tracked from her long flowing hair, over her back, exposed in the dress she wore, down along her legs, perfectly shaped and so soft looking. His mind wandered back to that afternoon, his fingertips touching the softness. Then he saw the shoes and he smiled.

He walked to the bar and poured two more glasses of champagne. As he stepped onto the balcony she heard his shoes hit the cement and turned. Her eyes devoured him from top to bottom. She loved the length of his hair, the smile on his lips, the way he looked in the tuxedo…everything about him.

When she turned his eyes instinctively slid down to her shoes once again and the smile on his face widened as he saw them in their entirety. Two silver straps across the top of her feet and then criss-crossing twice around her ankles, one low, one high and a nice heel height. Her toenails were freshly painted a light shade of pink to match the nails on her hands.

She watched his face as he saw the shoes and she whispered “All for you my love.” Reaching out she took the flute glass from his hand and slid next to him, her body conforming to his. He slid his arm around her waist, fingertips sliding along the exposed skin of her back. “Baby, you are going to make every man in the restaurant leave their dates.”

A slight blush crept across her cheeks. He always flattered her like this and a long time ago she learned not to protest. She did not see it, but if he did, then she accepted it with glee.

Their lips met in a soft kiss, tongues touching gently. “We should go,” he spoke as their lips broke, “Or else we will miss our reservations.”

They put their drinks on the table and she grabbed her clutch and they walked out the door.

The evening had been spectacular. Dinner was at the main restaurant in the resort. There were 6 different restaurants on site and they had planned on experiencing each. The others were more casual, so for their first evening here, they had selected the formal dining area.

When they walked in, as he had suspected, some heads turned. His eyes taking in the reactions, he smiled and gripped her waist tighter. Leaning in he whispered “Told you.” She smiled and replied “Well, their dates would be upset if they noticed, but they are all looking at you.” A small laugh was shared between them.

The Maitre’de approached and smiled. “Good evening, welcome.”

The name was given for the reservations and they were led to a small table in the center of the room. She had no idea, but much of this had been orchestrated weeks before their arrival. He had spoken with the concierge and made sure the first day of their trip went without a hitch. The champagne in the room specially selected, the table chosen with care.

The meal was exquisite. A fresh bottle of Cristal was delivered to the table immediately. They began with appetizers of jumbo lump crab meat and shrimp with a tangy cocktail sauce. She then had the grilled lobster tail with clarified butter accompanied by a small filet wrapped in bacon. Asparagus tips completed her main course. He selected the blackened tuna steak with roasted potatoes and broccoli crowns.

When their plates were removed, the waiter arrived with two orders of chocolate mousse which he had pre-ordered. “Please enjoy, compliments of our chef.”

She thanked the waiter and he nodded and smiled. “Did you do this?” she asked. “Me?” he smiled back at her. That was something he had trouble with. She always knew when he had done something and tried to make it look like the idea of another.

“Oh darling, you know you can’t hide things from me. You should have learned long ago.” She said smiling.

He took her hand from across the table and kissed her fingertips. “Baby, you know I have, but you also know I will keep trying over and over.” Nearby tables turned to look as they both laughed heartily,

After dinner, they moved into the disco and had spent a few hours dancing and drinking more champagne. At one point he had slipped the DJ $10 to play the song that had always been so special to them.

On the dance floor they moved in perfect synchronization, as they did in the bedroom. Tight together at times and then perfect spins and dips to the music. Not many were on the floor as they danced, but every eye in the room was on them, gliding effortlessly, moving in unison, a story told in dance and movement.

If only those watching knew that this was something that was just natural for the two lovers. Their very first time on the dance floor had been a magical moment those many years ago. That night, they were both surprised at how natural it had felt. As if they had been dancing together for years, instead of minutes.

As the song came to an end, they kissed softly and a number of people in the room began clapping their approval.

She smiled softly at him, “Oh, I am so in love.”

“As am I darling, and everyone in the room knows it,” he said as he kissed her cheek, inhaling her soft perfume.

They then moved into the casino next door where he sat at the poker table playing Texas Hold-em and she went to the Craps table and played. Though they were apart, they were within eye-sight of each other and would, on occasion, look over at the other and send love with their eyes and kisses with their lips.

She eventually came over and stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder as he played. As he folded a hand, he leaned his head back and she leaned in and they kissed. “How did you do Angel?” he asked. She giggled and the sound moved from his ears to the pit of his stomach. Her giggle lit his world. “Not bad at all, I think I will be doing some shopping tomorrow.” His groan was for effect as was her palm slapping his shoulder in reaction.

He played a few more hands and then cashed in his chips. “Looks like you can come with me and shop, you did well,” she said as he stood and they walked to the Cashiers Windows.

“I may be spending mine in the spa, a nice massage and manicure might be in order,” he spoke as they walked.

It was about 1:00 AM and they walked out to the beach. Both had removed their shoes and he had rolled his pants legs up as they strolled hand in hand along the surf. They found two beach chairs and moved them to the waters edge. They sat together holding hands and talking.

At some point they had stopped talking and just sat, basking in the love that had developed over the ten years since they had met. Each of their lives had changed greatly over those ten years and now it was finally the time for them to begin anew…together.

He released her hand and she looked over to see a new smile. One that had a purpose. He stood and moved to her side and then knelt in the sand.

“A long time ago we spoke of this, and now it is time.” His hand slid from his pocket and she saw the ring in his palm.

“Forever, together, my light, my soul, my love…please join me in an incredible journey…”

The tears in her eyes told him the answer and they kissed, softly as the sun continued to rise into the sky...

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 4/23/07

Couch Matinee: "SURVIVOR"

2010-09-02T00:01:00.000-05:00

The Survivor concert was one Josh Spain had been waiting for since the ticket sales had been announced. Standing online for 15 hours had paid off with a third row center seat. March 13th could not come fast enough.

Josh had always been known as a loner, from the time he was a teen. Throughout his

high school days he could count on one hand the number of people who had spoken to him. He could always be seen eating lunch at the far back table in the seat closest to the corner. Head down, shoveling the tasteless cafeteria into his mouth. His eyes focused on the book in front of him.

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Two Hot Dogs, Fries, Large Drink

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The Survivor concert was one Josh Spain had been waiting for since the ticket sales had been announced. Standing online for 15 hours had paid off with a third row center seat. March 13th could not come fast enough.

Josh had always been known as a loner, from the time he was a teen. Throughout his

high school days he could count on one hand the number of people who had spoken to him. He could always be seen eating lunch at the far back table in the seat closest to the corner. Head down, shoveling the tasteless cafeteria into his mouth. His eyes focused on the book in front of him. His taste in books leaned toward the macabre; Stephen King, Ian McEwan and Thomas Altman were his favorites.

Josh was smart. He had received a full-time scholarship to the State University to study Electrical Engineering. When Josh moved into the dorms, he met his roommate. They said hello to each other and then spent the next seven months walking around each other, studying and sleeping in the same room. That was the extent of their involvement. Josh’s roommate was in all of his freshman classes but they never walked to class, ate or even helped each other with their studies.

When sophomore year began, Josh took a small, one bedroom apartment just off campus. This ended his eating on campus, isolating him even more from the rest of the student body.

He woke each morning at precisely 7:15 AM, ate the same breakfast of toast with jam and walked to his classes. At lunch, he would sit on the commons and eat the bag lunch of ham and cheese on white with yellow mustard and an apple.

After class, he would head to the library and study at a cubicle until 9:00 PM and then walk back home, watch TV for an hour and then go to sleep.

The isolated existence was only broken up by his love for one band Survivor. It was all he listened to, in the morning, walking to school, while eating his lunch, while studying. Just about anytime he wasn’t in class or sleeping. He owned every one of their CD’s and the only music on his I-pod was Survivor.

He had never had the nerve to go to one of their concerts, but this was the penultimate for him and he would be there when they performed this time. They were appearing in a Collier Auditorium in town. Josh had checked the local bus schedule and realized that he could get there, but would have to walk home, as the busses did not run at that hour. If he saved his money, he might even be able to take a cab back, but that was uncertain.

When the Saturday finally came, Josh woke with butterflies. Tonight he would get to see Robin McAuley, Frankie Sullivan, Chris Grove, Billy Ozzelle and Marc Droubay. His heroes.

Sure the band didn’t include Jim Peterik or Dave Bickler, two of the founding members, but they were still Survivor. Sure they weren’t the huge hit makers they were when they recorder “Eye of the Tiger” and “Is This Love”, they were still Survivor.

Josh checked the clock every 15 minutes, making sure he was not late for the bus. He had planned on taking the 4:20 PM bus. The schedule said the trip would take 45 minutes. The show was at 7:30 PM, but there was no way that Josh was going to be late.
The bus stop was a 15 minute walk, so to be sure he was not late Josh left the house at 2:00 PM.

It was 5:30 when Josh walked up to the auditorium. He was the first one there. He smiled and sat on the steps listening to his I-pod. For a little while Josh began to daydream that no one else would be coming, that his dream band would be playing for an audience of one.

Then his daydream was shattered as people began arriving. More and more people and Josh began to get depressed. He wanted to be alone with his heroes. That was unrealistic though wasn’t it?

Josh stood up and realized that the line was already forming. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ticket.

He looked at it again, as he had done hundreds of times over the last two months since buying it.

When the doors opened, Josh moved with the crowd. When he got inside the door a man held out his hand. Was he going to take his ticket? Josh looked at him and said “Sir, I need to keep this.” The man smiled at Josh. People hardly ever smiled at Josh and it made him a bit uncomfortable.

“That’s alright son, I just need to scan it to make sure it is legit. Josh held the ticket out, keeping two fingers on it while allowing the man to wave a reader over the barcode.

“Have a good time,” the man said. Josh just looked at the ground and walked in.

He looked around at the signs that told where certain sections were. He saw the sign for “Orchestra” and headed for the entrance it marked.

Entering the auditorium Josh looked around in awe. The theatre was smaller then he had imagined. It wasn’t much bigger than the movie theatre he used to go to as a boy in his hometown. This place had an extra balcony, but that was the only difference. Well that and where the screen was in the movie theatre, there was a stage.

He looked at the stage. There was their equipment. The drum set and the guitars on their stands. A chill went up and down his spine. Josh felt a small bead of sweat form on his brow. Now, why would he be sweating, he wondered?

He looked down the row of seats and, so far the row was empty. That day dream began again, no one but him in the third row. The band would see him and invite him up on stage with them. Sure he could not play an instrument and his singing voice had scared little children as he would sing along to his I-pod walking down the street. That did not matter Survivor would know he was their biggest fan.

He had begun sending letters as a teen. In a few, he even included pictures of himself wearing one of the twenty Survivor t-shirts in his collection. His letters talked about what the band meant to him. How he could not last a day without hearing their music.

Once, after his second or third letter, he found an envelope in his mailbox. Since the mailbox on the porch of his parent’s house was so small, the postman had to bend the large brown envelope to make it fit... When Josh pulled it out, he saw the label with his address on it and in the corner, he saw the band logo. He had been so excited, but he took his time to gently open the flap.

Making sure not to tear the envelope, he slowly peeled it open. As he did so, he imagined the letter inside, personally written by the band to their biggest fan. It would tell him how he was just as important in their lives as they were in his.

When he reached in he found a picture of the band with their autographs. Josh could not know that the band had not signed the picture, that was the job of people in their management company, but to him it was gold. He went to the store that day and found a frame and hung the picture right over his bed. When he went to college the picture followed.

He never understood why he never received another envelope from the band. Over the years he had probably mailed them 50 or 60 letters. He knew how busy such a great band was, but they could have at least sent a new picture when the lineup had changed.

Josh moved down the aisle and found the seat marked 12. To his amazement, it was in the very center of the aisle.

Sitting down, he looked up at the stage and a chill ran down his spine. There were Marc’s drums, Chris’ keyboards and Frankie’s guitars. He felt as if he could reach out and touch them.

Then Josh noticed the seats filling up around him. He was, once again, disappointed. “Did you really think you would be by yourself?” he admonished himself quietly.

A group of long-haired teens moved into the seats in front of him, laughing and slapping each other’s hands. For a second, josh wondered what it would be like to have friends like that, but then decided that it would be too hard. Friends took your time away from the things you wanted to do.

Josh had on a pair of chinos and his favorite t-shirt, from the original album, Survivor. The album had come out 8 years before josh was even born, but he had found a store that made t-shirts from a photograph and he had brought them a photo of the album cover, a blonde laughing dressed like someone in the military.

It had faded over the years, and Josh had considered getting a new one for the concert, but the band needed to know that their #1 fan, treasured his collection of memorabilia.

Josh realized someone had taken the seat to his right and turned to see a girl around his age. She had jet black hair with silver streaks, cut short. Was wearing a t-shirt just like his and a pair of jeans. Her eyes were surrounded by silver makeup and her lipstick was silver. She smiled at Josh and said hi.

Josh began to say hi and the words stuck in his throat. He could not remember the last time he had actually spoken to a girl. “Hey, we have the same t-shirt, cool,” said the girl.

“I had mine made,” Josh semi-whispered, looking at the ground, not able to make eye contact. “Me too!” how cool is that? We sit next to each other and we both had our t-shirts made. My name is ‘Silver Girl,’ you know, after the song. I just love Survivor. I think I am their biggest fan.”

“NO, I am. I have every album and have been writing the band and they write back to me!” Josh said. He realized he may have been a little loud, as the girl sat back and the guys sitting in the row in front all turned and look. They began to laugh and josh heard one of them say, imitating him “NO, I am!”

“Sorry.” Josh said, “Ummm, my name is Josh. Nicetameetya.”

“So, what is your favorite song? Mine is ‘Silver Girl,’ of course, but I love ‘Eye of the tiger’ and Children of the night’ and…”

“I love them all the same.” Josh interrupted.

That is when the lights went down and the crowd erupted in cheers. The people in the rows in front all stood up and Josh could not see the stage. Grumbling, he stood and looked to the stage. He could see men moving about with tiny flashlights leading others out onto the stage.

“YOU GUYS ROCK!” someone yelled.

Josh strained to see his heroes, and then the stage lights blazed and the band began to play ‘Reach’ from their latest album.

Josh began to sit and realized that no one else was sitting, so he stood there. The band was loud, so loud. Everyone was yelling making it even louder in the theatre. Josh never realized a concert could be so loud. This was so different for him.

On his left, Josh realized was a very large man. He had long grey hair and a beard. His arms were covered as far as Josh could see with tattoos. He looked like one of the motorcycle hoods Josh had seen in the movies. He was whistling over and over, the shrill piercing Josh’s ears.

On his right, the girl was dancing in her place. Josh watched her from the corner of his eye. She had big breasts and Josh realized that she was probably not wearing a bra. The lights from the stage were so bright and he could see her nipples getting harder and harder as the music continued.

At one point her hip bounced off of Josh. He almost stumbled into the biker next to him but caught himself just before banging into the man.

The song ended and the band went right into the next one. It was incredible to Josh how the whole place was singing along to the music especially ‘Silver Girl’ who, Josh realized had a very nice voice.

After the second song, Robin walked up to the mic and began to speak, “Hello! Are you already to have some fun tonight?” The crowd erupted in a cheer and Josh even let out a YEAH of his own. “We are going to play all the songs you want to hear, and hope you dance and sing along.”

The rest of the concert went by in a flash as far as Josh was concerned. As the band played, Josh found himself slowly begin to sway to the music and he even sang along softly.

‘Silver Girl’ was dancing harder and harder to the fast song. When the band began to play a slow song, she moved closer to Josh. This shocked him and then she had his hand in hers and was swinging their arms to the music. “Just like we are dancing together, huh?” she shouted.

Josh just looked at her and managed a smile. He had never held a girl’s hand before and he realized with a shock how nice it felt. Then he got embarrassed as he realized he was getting excited by it. What if she noticed what was happening? What if she saw the bulge in his pants?

He almost pulled his hand back, but liked the feel too much. They only stopped holding hands to clap after each song, and then she would take his hand again and sway to the music.

Then it was over. The band said goodnight and the lights went off. The crowd began to cheer louder than ever. Some held up lighters, others held up their cell phones. Josh began to move to leave, but ‘Silver Girl’ blocked his path. “Where ya going, they will be back for an encore. Haven’t you ever been to a concert?”

Josh looked at her, trying not to show his surprise. “Sure I have.” He lied.

Then the lights came back on and there was the band again. They played ‘Feels like Love’ and then “Eye of the Tiger’. The lights went off and the crowd was going wild.

Then the lights came back up. “Great concert, huh?” ‘Silver Girl smiled. Josh realized it was now truly over.

“The best.” He responded.

Slowly the crowd began making their way out of the theatre. Josh began to think about how to get home and decided he would walk. He was still excited by just holding hands.

As they walked out, she continued to hold Josh’s hand. “So, where do you live?” she asked. “Well, I am out by the college,” Josh responded.

“Did you drive?” she asked. “No, I took the bus, I don’t have a car.” Josh admitted. His honesty surprised him.

“Hey, I can give you a ride.” “Well, that would be nice,” Josh replied. What was he doing? His stomach was turning. He had just met this girl and was going to ride with her? He had never really even talked to a girl before, and now he just spent the night holding a girl’s hand. He was excited, but afraid all in the same manner.

They walked to the parking lot across the street. It was a three level garage. “Wait here and I will get the car.” ‘Silver Girl said. “Ummm OK.”

Josh stood on the curb watching the people flowing out of the theatre. After five minutes he began to wonder if she had changed her mind and had left him. Well, why wouldn’t she? She had probably seen the bulge in his pants and realized he was a dork.

He began to watch the cars leaving the garage, looking to see if she was in one of them speeding by him. Another five minutes passed and Josh was about to walk away when he heard a horn beep.

He looked to his left and there she was waving from the car at the curb. “Hey, sorry, I went out the wrong exit, hop on in.” Josh had one more pang of doubt and walked over and opened the door and slid into the seat.

His hand touched something wet on the seat and he looked down. His hand had some red on it. “What the…?” he began to say. “OH, sorry, I cut myself this afternoon and thought I had cleaned it up. Here, use this tissue to clean your hand.”

Josh wiped his hand on the tissue and was about to say something about the blood still being wet when she leaned over and kissed him square on the lips.

Josh was shocked. He began to pull away, but her hand went behind his head and held them tight. Then he felt her other hand slide over his lap and he jumped.

Pulling back she said “OOOO you are a jumpy one, aren’t you?” I noticed you were hard in the concert. I hope it was me and not the band.” Then she laughed.

She put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. Josh was speechless. His mind was spinning from the kiss and from her hand rubbing his lap.

She reached over and turned on the radio. Josh was surprised to hear the classical station come on. She immediately hit the button, only to have a jazz station come on. Then she turned the dial until she landed on the rock station.

Her right hand then fell into his lap again. “Hey don’t be shy.” She took Josh’s hand and put it on her right breast. Josh did not know what to do and just left his hand there. “Well, rub it a little, it won’t break.” She said. Then her hand went back to his lap.

About half way back to the college, she turned off the main road. “No, I live further down.” Josh said. She replied, “Oh, I thought we would stop in the park here.”

She pulled the car to a stop. The park was deserted. Turning off the engine ‘Silver Girl’ undid her seat belt and moved over and began to kiss Josh again. Her hands began to undo his belt.

Josh was unsure what to do, but then she took his hand off her breast and led it up under her t-shirt. She had his pants open and was rubbing him.

The police cruiser was making its nightly run through the parking lot at around 4:00 AM.

Officer Johnson chuckled. “Well well well, what do we have here.” He laughed as the headlights from his car flashed over the car parked in the far corner. Many times he had come upon teenagers, undressed in cars here. It always made him laugh to catch them in the act, scare them and watch as they drove off, sometimes without even finishing getting dressed.

He stopped his car and radioed into the dispatcher so they knew where he was in case of a problem.

Opening the door of the cruiser, he flicked on his Megalight flashlight and approached the car.

Keeping the light down, he walked to the driver’s side door. Then he held the light up and flashed it into the car.

He jumped back and pulled his service revolver out.

Within the hour the park was ablaze of flashing lights from other cruisers and an ambulance.

Officer Johnson was standing to the side talking to his Sergeant. “When my light hit the window, all I could see was red. The car was unlocked and when I opened the door I saw the body. Well, the pieces. I have never seen anything like that. Blood everywhere, skin torn off the body…”

At that moment, he turned and ran to a dark corner and for the second time in an hour, lost his dinner…

The End...

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 5/7/07

Couch Matinee: "THE HUNT" Episode 1

2010-09-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

The branches of the trees swayed in the wind as Lee wondered how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He lived a quiet life. Working as a toll-taker along the interstate was a solitary life. The passing motorists hardly acknowledged his existence as he stood in his little box accepting their ticket and fare day after day.

He would smile, and occasionally one of them might utter a meaningless “Good morning”, but nothing more. Most people interact with others at their job. Lee had one of those careers (ha, a career as a toll-taker, what an oxymoron that was), that had no road to success. The best he could do was secure the coveted 8:00 am – 4:00 pm shift. It was the busiest shift of the day and on it, the time flew by and the day ended quickly.

CONCESSION SPECIAL

Two pieces of fried chicken, French fries and large drink

$3.00

The branches of the trees swayed in the wind as Lee wondered how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He lived a quiet life. Working as a toll-taker along the interstate was a solitary life. The passing motorists hardly acknowledged his existence as he stood in his little box accepting their ticket and fare day after day.

He would smile, and occasionally one of them might utter a meaningless “Good morning”, but nothing more. Most people interact with others at their job. Lee had one of those careers (ha, a career as a toll-taker, what an oxymoron that was), that had no road to success. The best he could do was secure the coveted 8:00 am – 4:00 pm shift. It was the busiest shift of the day and on it, the time flew by and the day ended quickly.

Lee was low on the ladder. Only 18, he had gotten the job because his uncle worked for the Turnpike Authority. If it weren’t for this job, Lee would probably be flipping burgers earning minimum wage at the local burger joint. He had barely made it out of high school and because of a child-hood injury could not even join the military.

So, he stood, 5 days a week, from midnight until 8:00 am, taking the dirty money from travelers who had no interest in who he was.

That was until three weeks ago when the limo pulled into his lane on a Monday evening. Normally the driver pays, but on this night the car pulled up further then normal and the back window slid down. An old hand reached out with the ticket and a bill folded underneath it. Slowly, a head came into view.

The head looked even older then the hand. A few strands of gray hair clung to a pink scalp covered with age marks. The eyes were sunken and a dull brown. The voice that came from the mouth sounded as if it came from the grave. “Hello young man. Have a good evening.”

Lee muttered a thank you, as a shiver moved up his spine. As he had taken the money and fare, his hand had touched the old man’s and he felt the cold, clamminess. The touch of death it seemed.

The limo pulled away as lee turned to make change. His head snapped around to shout out “Wait.”, but it was too late. That is when he looked at the folded bill and realized it had a picture of Benjamin Franklin on it. A $100 bill for a $5 fare! Lee stuck his head out of the window of his booth and watched the tail lights of the car slowly disappear in the distance and then made the change and put the $95 into his pocket.

Two nights later, the same limo pulled in and Lee immediately assumed that the old man was back for his change. He thought this might happen and had not spent a dime of the money. As the window slid down, lee pushed his hand into his pocket and grabbed the money, neatly folded there.

The old hand came out of the limo toward him holding the ticket with another folded bill. “Um, Mister, you forgot your change the other evening, here it is.” The face looking out of the back of the car grinned. “Oh, no young man. That money was for you.”

“Why?” Lee muttered. “Why would you leave me with $95?”

“Just a good deed let’s say.” And then the hand was pushed closer. “The fare for tonight.” Without thinking, Lee took the ticket and the bill and the limo pulled away.

Looking down, he was amazed to see another $100 bill. Lee didn’t even bother to look to see if the limo had stopped to allow change to be given.

Two days later, on Friday, the limo appeared once again. This time, Lee was ready. “Look Mister, I don’t know what you want, but I have to tell you, I don’t go for men.”

The laugh that came out of the old man’s could freeze a fire. “Oh, young man, I am not trying to seduce you. I just like to help out those that need the help.”

With that his bony, chalk white hand emerged again, holding a ticket and a bill.

When the limo had left, Lee was shocked to see 2 $100 bills this time. “Weirdo”, he mumbled.

The following Monday, the limo appeared at the same exact time, but on this night, the old man asked, “So, Lee,” reading the name tag on his shirt, “Do you enjoy a good meal?”

“Look Mister, I told you, I don’t go that…”

“Lee...please stop. I am an old man with no one to treat right. I have had many women over my life, and have never thought of being anything other then a heterosexual. But I liked the fact that you tried to give me back the money that first time. That showed me that you are an honest man. There are not many honest men left out there. Believe me, I know. DO you know how many toll attendants I have done this with whom, after the first night never offered the money back? Too many to count. Now Lee, tell me, do you have anything against making money? Honest money, with no hanky-panky attached?”

Lee looked at the old man and thought about his 1978 Pinto with almost 200,000 miles on it, the only car he could afford. It spewed blue oil smoke when he accelerated. It needed brakes and tires. He thought about the room he lived in at his parents. The same room he grew up in, with the cowboy and Indian wallpaper, faded to a dark brown from exposure to the sun and the single bed he slept in.

The same bed he had slept in since her was 5 years old. The same mattress with the stains from years of night bed-wetting and then, as he became a teen, emissions of a different sort. He thought about the $2 he had in his pocket the night this limo first pulled up and how he wondered how he would get by until the next payday 5 days away. Now, he had $200 in his pocket and he was listening to this man talk about making even more.

“So, mister, what would I have to do to earn this money?”

“Lee, please call me Jonathan, and all I ask is that you join me for dinner at my estate and talk to me. My butler Simon will be there and Franklin my driver, so you need not fear anything. And you will be able to leave if you get uncomfortable.”

“Well, ya know I work, so when?” Lee inquired.

“Do you work on Saturday? Because I am having Simon cook a nice roast that evening with baby red potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce and we can open a nice bottle of wine if you’d like.”

Lee did not know what this Holland-sumthingorother sauce was, but the roast sound great. His parents did not have a lot of money and the closest to roast he had come in years was the Tuesday meatloaf his mom would make.

“OK, Mis…um Jonathan, where is this estate of yours?”

From out of the window the hand reappeared holding an envelope. “Here are the instructions Lee. I look forward to the company. It can be lonely eating alone. Saturday around six then?”

Lee nodded his assent and the window slid upward and the limo pulled away.

Lee opened the envelope and inside was a sheet of paper with directions and two more $100 bills.

On Wednesday Lee waiting for the limo but it never cam. He started to think that maybe the old man had been pulling his chain and then when it did not come on Thursday Lee began to really believe it was over.

But the next night the limo pulled up to his booth. This time, however it stopped at the driver’s window. The driver looked out at him and said “Mr. Jonathan wanted me to remind you of your dinner engagement tomorrow evening and wanted me to check to make sure you knew how to get to his estate.

“Yeah, I know where it is…is this guy for real?”

“Yes, Mr. Lee, Mr. Jonathan is the most generous employer I have ever had. He looks forward to having a lively discussion with you over dinner tomorrow.”

“Well. OK, then, but hey…can you tell him I really don’t like wine and would prefer some Genesee Cream Ale instead.”

“I will inform him,” the driver said, paid the $5 toll and pulled away.

Saturday morning Lee woke and went to his closet and looked through his clothes. He could not wear his uniform and all his jeans had holes in them. He reached up on his tippy-toes and grabbed the box on the upper shelf of his closet and took out $100 and drove the Pinto to the mall. He bought a new pair of jeans and a new shirt. Looking at his ratty old sneakers, he decided to buy a new pair of those also.

When he got home, he showered and dressed in his new clothes. When he walked out of his room his father was sitting in his chair in the den. A can of Gennie Cream Ale in his hand and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the hell you going and when did you get new clothes?”

“Going to meet a friend is all dad, I will see you later.”

“Your mom got some hamburger helper, ain’t you eating here?”

“No dad, I said I would see you later.” With that Lee walked out letting the screen door slam behind him. He got in the Pinto and pulled out of the driveway.

Following the directions up the mountain road, until he found the road noted on the sheet of paper. Turning right, per the directions, he kept looking at the mailboxes and at the numbers inscribed on them.

They driveways got further and further apart and when then the mailboxes along the edge of the road got fancier and fancier. Lee had not been up this far on these roads in a few years. One night he and his friends came up here and quickly learned that not only did the county police patrol here, there were private security cars also. They had been stopped by one of these and harassed and told to head back down to the valley.

On this night, he did not see any of the private cars. Along the right a large brick wall began. He followed along for about ½ mile before he saw a drive and the number he was looking for on the large double gates that blocked entrance to all but those who were invited.

Pulling into the drive he stopped next to the call box. Before he could press the button a voice sounded, “Yes, may I help you?”
Lee looked around and saw that not one but two security cameras were mounted on the high brick wall that sealed the property off from the outside world. The wall had to be ten feet high and stretched to the left as far as he could tell.

Lee called out “Hi, my name is Lee Hamilton. Ummmm Mr. …. I mean Jonathan invited me for dinner.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Lee, you are expected.” With that the gates began to swing open and when there was enough room, lee drove the Pinto in. As soon as the car cleared the gates they began to swing shut.

He followed the drive, which curved back and forth and was surrounded on both sides by a dense strand of trees. The drive just kept going and going. Lee was not sure but he guessed it had to be ¾ miles long before it finally curved to the right once last time and the trees fell away. In front of him was the largest house he had ever seen. It had three stories, was a white stone structure. The drive curved around a large fountain to bring him to the front door. He saw that it continued around to a separate structure that looked like a smaller house, but he realized it was a garage and had 12 doors.

When he turned the ignition off the Pinto bucked and spewed a thick cloud of blue smoke.

He climbed out of the car and made his way up the stairs to the front doors. The two doors were solid wood and had to be 10 feet high. As he reached for the button to ring the bell the door on the right swung open and standing there was a very large man in a black tuxedo.

“Mr. Hamilton, I am Simon, welcome to Casa Sierra. Please follow me.”

He turned and began waking down a hall. Lee’s head turned left and right as they walked. The marble floor was polished to a mirror finish. On the walls were painting after painting. Some of them Lee recognized from the library books he had seen. He didn’t know if these were real, but he suspected they were. There were closed doors on both sides of the hall, and tables to each side with vases and statues.

The hall was about 20 feet long and then it opened into a large area where circular staircases went up the left and the right side. Between the two stairways there were two large doors which were open. Simon led him into that room and Lee’s jaw dropped to his chest.

On the other side of the room was a fireplace that Lee could have walked into. A large fire was ablaze. On either side of the fireplace were floor to ceiling bookshelves. The room had 20 foot ceilings and this was more books outside the town library that lee had ever seen, and he wasn’t sure if this room did not contain even more books then the town library.

There was a bar along the left side of the room and in the middle 4 oversized leather couches arranged in a square around a cocktail table. On the couch facing him was his host. As Lee walked in Jonathan stood and walked to meet him. Well, Lee though, walked was not really true. The old man shuffled his feet and leaned on a cane as he moved.

He put his hand out, “Lee, I am so happy that you came. I was not sure you would, even after I sent Franklin to see you last night. Simon, Lee will have a Genesee Cream Ale.”

“Yes sir.” Simon moved out of the room backward and disappeared around a corner.

“Please Lee, come sit”

“This is some home you have here…can I ask how many rooms?”

“Well, if I remember correctly there are 12 bedroom suites and 30 in total, though we have most of the sealed off. I am here by myself now, except for Simon and Franklin and a lovely lady that comes in each day to help clean the areas we do use. “

They sat on the couches and Simon came back in with a beer poured in a frosted mug and a glass of red wine.

“Simon, we will eat in about 20 minutes.”

“Yes sir.” With that, Simon disappeared again.

Over the next 20 minutes Lee answered questions about his life. Why had he not gone to college? Grades. Where did he live? With his parents, but they really never knew where he was or what he did. What he wanted in life? He didn’t know, maybe to get a new car and leave this place for the coast. Did he have a girlfriend? No.

Lee did not know how he did it, but Simon brought him a new beer as he took the last sip of his first one and then appeared to announce dinner.

They moved into the next room and Lee was, once again, amazed. The room was even bigger then the one they had just been in and the table probably had 50 chairs around it. There were two place settings at one end. One at the head of the table and the other at the seat to the left.

A fresh beer was waiting for Lee. Simon silently served them a soup which Lee did not recognize, but finished off it was so good. Then a salad was served.

After the salad the main course was served. When Simon asked Lee if he wanted hollandaise sauce with his asparagus, Lee looked at it and decided to try some. When he tasted it he laughed to himself. Why don’t these rich people just call things what they were. This was a melted cheese.

For dessert they had ice cream.

The entire time, Jonathan kept asking questions. Some of them over and over. Lee just assumed the guy was old and kept forgetting, but did not want to embarrass the man.

He did not realize how many beers he had until he went to stand. His head felt real light and he wobbled a bit.

They went back into the den and Simon brought them two small glasses with a dark liquid in it.

“It is Port Lee, a real treat, try, and if you do not like it, Simon will get you another beer.”

Lee took a sip, not expecting to like it; it looked like wine to him, but found he did.

Jonathan told Lee a little of his life. He had been married and had two kids. His wife and children had all died years ago in “an accident” and since then he had lived alone.

The Grandfather clock in the corner began to sound out the hour and Lee realized it was midnight. “Wow, this was great, but I should be going.” As he stood, he knew he was way to drunk to drive.

“Lee, I told you there are plenty of bedrooms. The road back down to town is not one you want to drive at night after drinking. You can stay and then tomorrow I can show you the grounds. I think you will love the property and we can discuss the business opportunity I would like to offer you.”

Lee thought about it and the idea of making money appealed to him. The old guy seemed harmless enough, so he allowed Simon to show him to a bedroom on the second floor and opened the drawers in the dresser pointing out some pajamas and told him the essentials were all in the private bathroom.

Lee went into the bathroom to find a brand new toothbrush and took care of that, washed his face and then put on the pajama bottoms. When he climbed into bed he was amazed at how good a real mattress felt and fell asleep almost immediately.

He slept soundly…not knowing it would be the last sound sleep he would have for many many days…

End of Part One

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Originally Published On 4/2/07

Couch Matinee: "THE HUNT" Episode 2

2010-08-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

As Lee took a step, the snap of the branch underfoot caused a covey of quail to scatter from their resting place in a nearby meadow. The sound of their taking off caused Lee to stop in his tracks.

He knew that any stray sound could be his undoing and reminded himself to watch where he stepped.

As his eyes opened, it took Lee a few second to remember where he was. Looking around the room he noticed things that had escaped him the evening before. The paintings on the wall, the figurines on the dresser. This room was bigger then his parents entire house.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

Chicken Parmigiana Hoagie and Large Drink

$3.00

PART ONE

As Lee took a step, the snap of the branch underfoot caused a covey of quail to scatter from their resting place in a nearby meadow. The sound of their taking off caused Lee to stop in his tracks.

He knew that any stray sound could be his undoing and reminded himself to watch where he stepped.

As his eyes opened, it took Lee a few second to remember where he was. Looking around the room he noticed things that had escaped him the evening before. The paintings on the wall, the figurines on the dresser. This room was bigger then his parents entire house.

As he got out of bed he saw his clothes neatly folded on a chair by the door. When he picked up his shirt he realized it had been washed and ironed. Shaking his head, he padded to the shower.

Inside the shower had 15 different heads. This amazed him. Turning on the water the different heads each began pulsing on his body. For someone who normally showered in less then 2 minutes, Lee spent 15 minutes letting the shower massage his entire body.

After he dressed he opened the bedroom door and looked to his left and then to his right and realized he did not know how to get downstairs. He decided to go to the left and passed a total of 6 doors on either side of the hall, before he reached a dead-end. Shaking his head, he turned and walked the other way. Laughing under his breathe he knew that he could not pick the room he had come from as he passed door after door and then finally, turned a corner and saw a staircase.

When he reached the bottom, Simon came out of nowhere. “Do you sleep well Mr. Lee?”

“That is some bed. I have never slept on a mattress that soft. And thanks for cleaning my clothes, but ya didn’t have ta.”

“Mr. Jonathan would have it no other way Sir. Please follow me in for breakfast.”

When Lee walked into another room he had not yet seen, he saw Jonathan sitting outside on the porch reading the paper. When he was Lee walking toward him, he stood and held out his hand.

“Lee! I hope you slept well and that Simon took care of your clothes. One thing I hate is to put on dirty clothes in the morning. Come, come, and take a seat. Coffee? Juice? Some eggs perhaps? Mrs. Natalie is here this morning and she makes the best Western Omelet in the world.”

“I don’t drink coffee, thanks, but some juice and that omelet sounds super.”

Jonathan looked over at Simon and the later silently slid back into the house.

“So, Lee, I was hoping you didn’t have anything to pull you away today and would spend the day. I was planning on doing some quail shooting out on the back forty acres. Have you ever gone on a quail shoot? It is so invigorating to watch as the dogs flush them out and then swinging your gun into position and squeezing the trigger hoping to hit your mark.” As Jonathan spoke his face lit up with a satisfying grin.

“I do some deer huntin’, but I ain’t ever shot birds before. I am not sure I am dressed for a hunt.”

“Oh, my boy, I am sure Simon can find some things to fit you” Jonathan looked down. “What are you a size 11 shoe?”

As he said this, Simon appeared with juice and an omelet and placed it in from Lee. “Simon, can you did up some camouflage in Lee’s size and … size 11, Lee?”

“Actually 10 ½, but I could wear an 11 iffen that is all you got.”

“OH, I am sure we have a size 10 ½ boot for you sir.” Simon spoke. “Is there anything else you need Mr. Jonathan?”

“Just put out my camouflage and get Lee set please.”

As they spoke, Lee watched and thought he saw something in their eyes, a sparkle, but he was famished and the aroma of the omelet drew his attention and he grabbed a fork and began to shovel the eggs and accompanying home fries into his mouth.

“Didn’t I tell you she was a wizard with three eggs and some peppers, onions and ham?” Jonathan spoke.

Lee responded with a mouthful of the omelet, “Ummm yeah so good, I ain’t ever had one so good. And these home fries are even better.” He reached for the bottle of ketchup which Simon had also left, and began to bang the bottom to put a pile on top of the potatoes.

“I am glad you have decided to join me today. It is so boring to go out on a hunt by oneself. They have begun to get so boring of late. I so have thought of going over to Africa to do a hunt against something more challenging. The birds, well they are so dumb. They get flushed and all tend to fly in the same pattern. Oh what I wouldn’t do for a more exhilarating challenge.”

“You should try deer,” Lee said, “They can smell ya half mile away. You need to be so much smarter. I got a 10 pointer last season. We are still eating meat from that kill. Do ya like venison? Momma makes the best chili with black and red beans. I could eat that three times a day, I could.”

“I have never had a venison chili, but in New York I have the most delicious Roast Rack of Venison with Creole Mustard. It was divine.” Jonathan answered. “So, Lee, are you a gambling man? I enjoy a good wager on occasion.”

At that moment, Simon reappeared. “Sir, both of your outfits are laid out. I placed Mr. Lee’s in the lower bedroom for him. Mr. Lee, are you done with this?” Simon asked, noting the plate which was as clean as when it emerged from the dishwasher.

“Yes, thanks. Please let…ummm….Mrs. Natalie know it was the best I ever ate.”

“I shall Sir. Would you like to follow me and I will show you where you can change.”

Lee followed Simon to another of the rooms in the mansion and when he was alone, looked around in awe. This room was as big as the one he had slept in upstairs and was filled with paintings and figurines. He went to a case and examined the figurines in it. His mom would love these things, he thought.

Then he looked closer and realized that all the paintings in this room had the same theme. They all depicted a man, standing over another man in a pose of triumph. Some were soldiers over Indians, others Indians over soldiers. Some appeared to be men from back in the Roman times, wearing tunics and holding swords. One painting looked like that mad-man Genghis something-or-other wearing animal skins hold the head of some guy, blood still dripping from where it had been cut off the body.

One picture on the far wall was the strangest Lee had ever seen. It showed a man holding a ling leash and on the other end in a spiked collar was a man. Not an animal. Lee was looking at this as he slipped into his camouflage and tying his boots, all of which fit perfectly. Something about the picture was so familiar, but he could not quite decide what. He knew for sure, he had never seen this painting before.

When he was done he walked closer and when he was about two feet away he studied it closely. His head began to shake slowly. Nah, it must just be my imagination, he thought. The man holding the leash could have been Jonathan when he was Lee’s age. They had the same eyes.

His examination was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Mr. Lee, does everything meet with your approval?” he heard Simon speak.

Lee walked back to the door and opened it. Simon was standing there, also wearing full camouflage. “Yeah, thanks, these things could have been made for me they fit so well. Hey, that picture in there, the one with the guy holding the leash…”

“Mr. Jonathan is waiting for you out by the dog kennels, please let me show you the way.”

He turned and began walking and Lee followed along. They went out yet another set of glass doors and sitting there was a golf cart. Simon climbed in and Lee got in on the passenger side. They drove for about 5 minutes through some trees on a paved path.

As they came into a clearing Lee was amazed at the size of the kennel. He has presumed it would house 3 or 4 dogs, but here, in front of his eyes was a kennel that had to house, at the least 30 hunting dogs of all breeds. It also surprised him how silent they were.

All of the doges were standing around Jonathan as he passed out treats to them.

Off about 200 feet was a large barn and Lee would see two men saddling horses.

“Come over and meet our hunting partners Lee” Jonathan called.

Lee walked over cautiously. He had never been a dog person and these dogs looked as if they could do some damage if allowed. He walked into the gate and joined Jonathan. Some of the dogs immediately began to sniff around Lee’s legs and one pushed his snout into his crotch. Lee jumped back quickly and the dogs all came to alert.

“The one thing you can never show around dogs is fear Lee. Here feed them some of these.” Jonathan handed Lee some of the treats.

Lee put his hand out with a treat in it and one of the bigger dogs came over and took the treat. “That’s Max; he is one of my better hunters. We will be taking him with us today. Are you ready?”

“Well, I guess so, like I said, I never done this before.”

“Can you ride a horse? The area we are going hunting is out a-ways.”

“Yes sir, I been riding since I was a young man. My granddaddy had a farm down in Alabama.”

Jonathan said something to the dogs and they all sat. Lee was amazed at this feat and watched as Jonathan tapped 5 dogs on the head, including Max. Those five dogs proceeded to get up and scamper out of the gate. The others stayed still.

Jonathan walked out the gate with Lee following and then closed it, shutting the other dogs in.

“How did you do that, with the dogs I mean?” Lee asked.

“Many years of training son, come let’s check out our mounts.”

They walked over to the barn with the dogs selected following behind quietly.

When they got to the barn, Jonathan said “This is Sheik; I think you will like him. Not knowing if you had ridden before, I had the stable boys saddle a western for you, is that ok?”

“Yes sir, I have ridden English, but I prefer western. That probably ain’t what you are supposed to wear on a hunt, but it is what I know best.”

They mounted their horses and Jonathan took the lead with Lee next and Simon trailing behind. The 5 dogs took positions around the group. Lee could tell that this was something they had also been trained to do. The group took off at a gallop and were soon deep in the woods following a winding trail.

The trail opened wider and Jonathan called Lee up to ride alongside. “So, Lee, you never had a chance to answer my question earlier, are you a gambling man?”

“Well, I have been to the track a few times, and I play the lottery and my friends and I play poker sometimes, so if that makes me a gambling man, then I guess I am. Why you asking Jonathan?”

“Well Lee, I thought we could make a little wager today. Whoever bags the most birds will win the wager.”

“Well Jonathan, I really don’t have money enough to bet against you. I mean, I make minimum wage at the Highway Department.”

“OK Lee, I’ll tell you what. If you get the most birds I will give you $15,000.00. If you get the most birds, you have to do something for me. Now, don’t give me that look, I told you that I am not into anything kinky with men. So what do you say?”

Lee thought about it. $15,000.00 could really put him on easy street. Really, what could this old guy want? Maybe some company on the weekends? That would mean some good meals and maybe a nice bed to sleep in.

“So what is it that you would ask me to do?” Lee finally asked.

“Look that is part of the bet. If you don’t want to make it we can call it off right now.”

Without thinking again, Lee spoke, “OK you are on.” He was counting on Jonathan’s age working against him, and Lee had not mentioned the three medals he had won at the shooting range just last year. He could feel that $15,000.00 in his pocket already.

They finally came out from the forest into a large meadow. Jonathan reined his horse and in one motion alighted to the ground and pulled the double barrel shotgun from its sheath on the saddle.

Lee climbed down and grabbed the gun that had been on his horse. Simon followed suit, staying behind them at all times.

“OK, now we will let the dogs do their thing and the bet starts now.”

Over the next hour the dogs flushed out coveys of quail and the three men did their best to shoot them out of the air. Lee found it tougher then he thought in the beginning but then began to learn the technique of leading the quail as they took off.

He tried to keep track of how Jonathan was doing against his own tally but in the frenzy of the hunt it was not easy.

At the end of the hunt Simon took the three sacks filled with birds and the three mounted their horses and began the ride back to the mansion.

“Come on Lee, $500.00 says you can’t beat me back to the stable” Jonathan shouted as he kicked his horse forward. Lee kicked Sheik and took off after him. They were neck and neck as they made it into the forest when Lee took the lead. On the narrow trail it was almost impossible for Jonathan to pass him.

They pushed their horses hard and when the trail narrowed did not let up. As they came out into the open with 200 years to the barn Jonathan began to gain but Lee beat him by a neck.

The stable hands came out and took the reigns from both men and walked the horse into the barn to unsaddle and cool them off.

Jonathan was laughing hard “I have not had someone beat me on that race in at least two years, well done!”

Lee was feeling good about the $500.00 and felt real confident about the $15,000.00. He was sure he had taken down at least 5 more birds then Jonathan.

Just about then, Simon came trotting into the barn area followed by the dogs. He tossed the three bags onto the ground at their feet and then climbed down off the horse.

The three bags were a different color and Lee immediately grabbed his orange bag and dumped it out. The dogs began coming forward and Jonathan yelled a command and they all scurried back over toward the kennel and sat at the gate.

Jonathan grabbed his green bag and Simon the blue one he had used.

Lee counted his birds and then counted again. He had thought he counted 15 quail drop from his gunfire, but there were only 14 in his bag.

He looked over and counted Jonathan’s, and his eyes bugged out. Jonathan looked over and said “OK, 15, how many for you Lee?”

“Ummm I could have sworn I had 15, but there are only 14 in my bag, so I guess you won.”

“Well, you both beat me, I only bagged 10.” Simon chimed in.

Lee felt a pain in the pit of his stomach. His brain started circling around on itself; ‘what would he be asked to do? What if this old geezer did want to do something sexual with him? No stop, if he had wanted something he would have tried already. No, you jerk, he was setting you up for this, now he will lean over and kiss you. No, he won’t do that out here in the open. What if he wants you have sex with Simon and watch? Yes, that’s it; he never said it had nothing to do with sex, just not sex with him…:’

Lee looked over at Simon who was staring at him. ‘Oh god, that is it, he is going to tell me to have sex with Simon…well I am not going to do it and I will walk away. I don’t have to come back here again, who is to say he is going to offer you any more money after today anyway?’

“Lee? Lee, is there something wrong?”

Lee looked up and realized that Jonathan had been talking to him the whole time. “Oh, sorry, I guess I was just thinking about losing and…”

“…and what was I going to ask you to do?” Jonathan finished his sentence.

“Look, it is late and you have to work tomorrow. Why don’t you just plan on coming back next Saturday afternoon and this time plan on staying for the weekend? We will do some more hunting, only this time on Saturday and we can eat what we kill that night for dinner. I will let you know the favor then, and please, stop thinking it has anything to do with sex.”

They walked back to the mansion and Lee changed into his own clothes, leaving the camouflage on the floor as Simon instructed.

He drove home with $500.00 in his pocket and some questions ruminating in his brain.

“Do you think he has any clue that I took one out of his bag along with four birds from mine sir?”

“It doesn’t matter. He will be back next Saturday morning. I will bet you $1000.00 he pulls up to the gate before 9:00 AM. I told you he would be perfect for what I need. He is perfect, a lowly tollbooth clerk with a yearning for the almighty dollar. Do you think I had you spend 6 months watching him because I wasn’t sure he was the right one?”

“He is perfect. Next weekend I finally get the one thing I have been waiting for.”

That week Lee could not keep his mind on work. ‘What would Jonathan ask him to do?’ Well it didn’t matter. The one thing about Lee is he believed, as his grandfather told him “A bet is a debt of honor.” As long as it was not something like robbing a bank or killing someone, Lee would honor his debt.

It did bother him that he had miss counted the number of birds that he had shot and could not believe that Jonathan had shot as many as he had. The old guy struggled at one point and didn’t get a bird out of two of the coveys the dogs had flushed.

On Wednesday morning after he got off work he stopped at McGhees bar, as was his custom and used some of the $500.00 he had won in the race buying drinks for the crowd that was gathered.

These were the guys and gals that worked the overnight shift at the local lumber mill.

“Hey Lee-boy, where you getting money ta buy drinks? You never have more then $5.00 in ya pocket.” This from Jason Conway, one of Lee’s oldest friends. Lee was two years older then Lee and was a big time basketball player in high school, but had blown his knee out his senior year thus losing out on his full-ride scholarship to college relegating him to working the debarker at the mill.

He didn’t even play pick-up games after an accident two weeks after he started when he lost the thumb on his left hand while not paying attention.

“Got a little lucky this week Jas, but if you aren’t interested I don’t have to buy you another shot of Comfort” shot back Lee.

They both laughed and wandered over to a booth with their shooters and beers.

“So, really, what the hell are you doing, dipping into the till at the toll booth?” Jason asked as they sat down.

“God, Jas, ya think I would be that stupid? Nah, hey you know that old guy lives in the big mansion up on Applebie Way? Well, he came to the toll booth a couple of weeks ago and gave me a tip when he paid the toll. In fact he did it a few times and then he invited me to dinner last Saturday. On Sunday we went quail hunting and he challenged me to a race back to his stable and I beat him.”

“Ah, Lee, you talking about Jonathan APPLEBIE? What were you born yesterday? You didn’t even know who the guy was? He just owns most of the land the lumber mill leases. What were you born yesterday?”

“Hey man, he never told me his last name and how the hell would I know that? I had only been up that way once in my life and you were there with me, when we got chased away by that rent-a-cop, remember?”

Lee turned around and signaled the waitress for another round of drinks for the two of them.

“So, did the old geezer ask you to suck him off too?” Jason said laughing.

“No, you ass…like I would even do that. He just seems lonely and asked about me and why I was a toll booth clerk and shit like that. Anyway, I am going back this weekend. I lost a bet on the number of birds we would shoot and now I gotta do some sort of errand around his property. Coulda one 15 G’s if I woulda done better. Going out to the shooting range and gonna do some skeet shoot tomorrow to practice up. He said we would be going out again on Saturday and this time I am gonna make sure I win that bet.”

“Man, you are a fool, ya know Lee…always have been…”

The next day Lee shot for about an hour and got to a point where he hit 25 of the clay targets in a row.

Saturday morning he was up and dressed early. He through some clothes in a bag, and dressed in his own camos. Better to go prepared this time he thought.

Driving up to the gates a short time later he pushed the buzzer and heard Simon’s voice “Good morning Mr. Lee, drive on up.”

Lee could have sworn that Simon was chuckling when he spoke to him. The clock on the Pinto dashboard read 8:56 AM.

This time Jonathan was standing on the front steps as he pulled around. Turning off the car, it belched and emitted a large cloud of blue smoke.

Lee hoped out, “sorry Jonathan, this old beast is on its last legs.”

“Well, Lee, glad you could make it. Maybe we can change the wager this week, follow me.”

Lee tried to hide his disappointment as he followed Jonathan around the drive toward the garage. He thought a wager of $15G’s would be just what he needed to junk the Pinto.

They stopped at the front of the garage and Jonathan pressed a few keys on the pad located on the wall. The first three doors slid upward and Lee was staring at the nicest collection of cars he had ever seen.

Lee knew his cars, a black ’56 Thunderbird, a silver ’72 Mustang Cobra, and a bronze ’74 240Z were staring out at him.

“Tell you what Lee, you win the wager this week and besides $100,000.00 one of these is yours. Your choice.”

Lee stood with his mouth wide open. “You gotta be kidding me? One of these AND 100 grand?”

“Well Lee, this week, the wager is a bit more serious.”

With that, he began to describe what he had in mind. As Lee listened his brain kept screaming at him to jump into the Pinto and get the hell out of there.

But, if he could win the wager he could jump in the Cobra (he had already decided which he would take), and be out of this rat-hole town within a day.

They made their way to the barn and Lee recognized Sheik, all saddled and ready. Simon was standing there holding the reigns of the three horses

The one thing he also noticed was the empty sheath where the shotgun had been last week.

“So, Lee, that is the wager. You get a 20 minute head start. You stay out for 10 hours and make it back to the barn without me capturing you. You get the car of your choice and the $100,000.00”

‘RUN...RUN NOW’ Lee’s brain screamed, but instead he grabbed the reigns for Sheik from Simon and mounted the horse.

He looked at Jonathan and smiled. Lee was an expert deer hunter and knew how to hide and make himself unnoticeable to animals with a great sense of smell; he could avoid an old man and his servant for ten hours.

He laughed and said “Game on” and kicked Sheik into a gallop.

Simon looked over at Jonathan. “Did he even ask?”

Jonathan watched as Lee disappeared into the woods. “Poor boy doesn’t have the brains to ask. He thinks it is just you and I tracking him like a game of capture the flag. I’ll get the dogs ready. You make sure we have enough ammo for the shotguns.”

Jonathan turned and walked toward the kennels….

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 4/9/07

Couch Matinee: "THE HUNT" Episode 3

2010-08-29T00:01:00.000-05:00

Lee rode Sheik hard for about a mile but did not think he was taxing the horse, so was surprised when, all of a sudden the horse stopped and began shaking violently. Lee climbed down and almost immediately the horse collapsed. Getting down on one knee, it did not take long to tell that Sheik was dead. Foam forming at it’s mouth.

Looking at his watch, Lee was still unaware that this was more than a game of “hide and seek.” He grabbed the rope, ax and small folding shovel he found in the saddlebag and began walking further into the woods. His mind was focused on the money and car he knew he could win by just avoiding an old man and his servant.

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

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Part One
Part Two

Lee rode Sheik hard for about a mile but did not think he was taxing the horse, so was surprised when, all of a sudden the horse stopped and began shaking violently. Lee climbed down and almost immediately the horse collapsed. Getting down on one knee, it did not take long to tell that Sheik was dead. Foam forming at it’s mouth.

Looking at his watch, Lee was still unaware that this was more than a game of “hide and seek.” He grabbed the rope, ax and small folding shovel he found in the saddlebag and began walking further into the woods. His mind was focused on the money and car he knew he could win by just avoiding an old man and his servant.

Jogging away from the horse, Lee began to think about the tricks his grandfather had taught him about deer hunting. Seeing a small pond, he slid his body in and began to rub the silt from the bottom all over his body.

Once done, he climbed a nearby tree and situated himself on a large branch about 15 feet above the ground. That was when he realized he had not eaten that morning, expecting a nice meal from his host and his stomach grumbled its complaint.

That was when he heard it. The sound of horse hoofs from somewhere in the forest. The hoofs were making their distinctive sound against the dirt and rocks. They were coming fast. There was another sound, but Lee could not recognize it.

He was sure that they would never find him where he had positioned himself and just sat quietly. The sounds came closer and closer and then he saw the first of the dogs. There were three of them. Dogs? Did Jonathan mention he was going to use the dogs?

He breathed a sigh of relief as the leaders moved past his tree. His scent being blocked by the silt and mud he was covered in. Then he saw the two riders and his blood curdled as they came into view. Both were holding shotguns. Why would they need guns for a simple game of hide and seek?

The two riders pulled up their horses just below the tree Lee was hiding in. He froze, thinking they may have spotted him.

“Well sir, Sheik should have gone down by now. We gave him just enough of the poison to let him live for only about 15 minutes. I certainly will miss him, he was a good mount,” Simon spoke.

“Yes, Simon, he was and I was sorry it had to be him, but our quarry would have wondered why we would give him a different horse, it was an unfortunate choice last week. By now the prey should be on foot and the dogs will run him down soon,” Jonathan responded.

Simon looked over, “Shall we call the dogs back and let them have at the clothes?”

“We will wait a while longer to give them the clothes he wore last week. Let’s see how well they do without his scent. I do want to make this last more than an hour. What fun would it be to hunt him down so quickly?”

The two men kicked their horses and cantered away.

Lee realized he was holding his breath for that entire exchange and slowly let the air out of his lungs. What had he gotten himself into? Well, he would just avoid them and the dogs for the next nine hours and collect his money and car and be done with this old codger.

After about another half hour, Lee climbed down from the tree and began searching for things he would need. He remembered seeing raspberry fields from the last week and began to move through the woods look for familiar signs. When he had left the stable he began to ride in the same direction they had gone on their hunt, but after about ½ mile veered off the trail to avoid falling into a trap.

A short while later, he came into a clearing and recognized an old Oak tree that stood a solitary sentry apart from the forest. They had passed that same tree last week, so he was able to orient himself.

The sun was hot, and Lee began to sweat in his camouflage and mud suit. The mud on his face had dried and formed a crust which became itchier by the minute. He wanted to rub it off, but knew that, with the dogs, that would be a sure fire way to get caught. He stayed low and moved quickly toward the raspberry patch.

Sitting there he began plucking the little red berries off of the plants and shoveling them into his mouth. When he had enough, he put some into the pockets of his jacket and moved on.

That was when he stepped on the branch causing it to send the covey of quail from their resting site. He froze in his tracks listening.

He began to make his way back to the forest and just as he got to the tree line, the trunk of the tree to his right exploded into splinters.

Lee turned and saw Jonathan astride his horse aiming about 80 yards away, aiming down the barrel of his gun. He saw the smoke puff from the end of the rifle and the tree to his left exploded and then he heard the report from the gun.

Turning on his heels, lee ran into the woods. It was about that time that he heard the barking of the dogs. Running in a zigzag pattern Lee moved further and further into the woods. He had to find a place to hide before the dogs made up the distance. That was when he crossed the pond he had been at earlier. He slid into the water and stayed still, only the top of his head exposed in some reeds. The dogs came running. He could tell they did not have a scent by the way they moved, snouts in the air, trying to pick up on his odor.

The passed the pond and close behind came the two riders. They were gone quickly. And Lee put his head up a bit higher. He heard Jonathan’s voice bellowing “WHERE COULD HE HAVE GONE? DAMN WORTHLESS DOGS!”

A rifle shot echoed through the forest. Lee instinctively ducked under the water, expecting another shot to pierce the surface. He held his breath until his lungs were on fire, and then slowly came out of the muck and took a long deep breath.

He did not move for what seemed like hours, but by his watch was only about 10 minutes, then came out of the water slowly.

Listening, he heard only the birds in the forest and the wind blowing.

Lee began following the trail along where Jonathan and Simon had gone. He came to a dry riverbed and there was one of the dogs, lying dead; a bullet hole in its side.

He stood there staring. This was nuts. This man was hunting him like a dog and now he killed one of his own. It finally hit Lee that even if he did last the time limit, this hunt might not be over. He began to realize this was not a bet he could ever win. There was no money or car in his future. The only things in his future were death, or finding a way back to civilization and freedom.

He then heard panting. Slowly he turned and saw one of the other dogs looking at him. The dog’s eyes moved between Lee and the body. Slowly, Lee reached into his pocket, pulling out the pocket knife he had there and slowly opened it waiting for the dog to attack.

The hound walked over to its dead friend and lay down next to it, whining and licking at the wound.

Lee slowly backed away and moved away from the area. As he walked he picked up a branch which was about four feet long and 3 inches in diameter. As he walked he used his knife on the end of it, sharpening it into a point. Along with the ax, it would give him another weapon, though he knew that neither would do any good against a rifle at long range.

Over the next two hours Lee worked hard, getting ready. He had made a decision that there was only one way he was going to succeed and last the day. His preparations took as much energy as he had ever expended in his life.

When he was finally done, he sat and ate some of the berries still in his pocket. Now he needed to put his plan into action.

Reaching into the top pocket of his jacket he withdrew a book of matches. Lighting one he set the flame against a small pile of leaves and branches he had gathered and waited to ensure it caught.

Then he moved into position. He climbed the tree he had selected and waited. The sun was about to disappear behind the mountain to the west when he heard the whiny of horses coming down the trail. He could barely make out the silhouettes, but could see Jonathan in the lead.

He was coming at a trot when his horse hit the spot Lee had worked on. Its front leg fell into the hole which was camouflaged by twigs and leaves and Lee could hear the snap of the bone from his position. His heart was pained to see the horse tumble to the ground, but knew he had no choice. Jonathan also went falling over the horses head as he lost his balance. This sight did not sicken lee in the least.

Behind him, Simon reined his horse and began to reach for the rifle which was in its sheath on his saddle. Lee moved quickly and slid down the rope he had tied to his branch and before Simon could react the sharpened branch had found its mark.

The wet sound of the branch pushing into Simon’s stomach sickened Lee, but he pushed again and could see the tip come out Simon’s back as he tumbled from his horse.

Lee grabbed the rifle which was dangling from the sheath and turned quickly toward Jonathan.

The old man was just gathering his wits, and turned to see the barrel of the rifle inches from his face.

“It was all a game boy. We were never going to hurt you.” Jonathan blurted.

“Old man, tell me why I shouldn’t pull the trigger and leave your brains on the ground?” Lee retorted.

“Money. You want the money, don’t you?”

“You were never going to give me money. You were going to blow my brains out, now get up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jonathan asked. His eyes were on the body of his man-servant, his lips trembling and tears in his eyes.

“Walk…we are going back to your mansion and calling the police. I am not an animal like you.”

They began walking and the entire time Jonathan continued to beg. “Lee, listen, you can have two of the cars, three of them, and I have cash at the house. Much more then I had promised you.”

Lee did not respond, only poking the old man in the back with the rifle whenever his pace slowed down.

“Who is at the mansion old man? And if you lie, you will pay and so will they.”

“No one should be. I sent them all home.” Jonathan responded. “I did not want anyone around for this, um…”

“Yeah, you weren’t going to kill me were you? You sick old bastard. You will pay for this.”

The mansion looked deserted with only a few lights on. The walked into the kitchen area and Lee said “OK, now, you said there was money here, where is it?”

“I thought you were calling the police? But no, you will take the money, won’t you? It's always about money with people like you.”

The rifle shot filled the room and Jonathan stumbled against the counter grasping his left arm where the bullet had ripped into his body.

“The next one goes into your head, now do you want to show me where the money is?” Lee growled.

Jonathan moved away from the counter holding his arm. The burning sensations making the room spin slightly. Looking down he saw that Lee had only grazed his arm, the blood making it look much worse then it was.

They moved down the hallway, droplets of blood being left behind like the cookie crumbs of Hansel and Gretel, only these not to show the way home.

The entered the room they had first met in, and Jonathan walked to the wall behind the desk at the far end.

He reached up with his right hand and grasped the edge of the painting there. Tugging on it the painting swung to the side, Lee noticing the red bloody hand print left there as Jonathan let go.

Behind the painting was a wall safe. Lee stood five feet away, the rifle pointed at Jonathan as he watched as the combination was dialed in. He could hear a faint click and watched Jonathan turn the handle and pull on the door of the safe.

He began to think about how much could be in there, and of just taking it all and jumping into the Cobra and driving far far away. He knew he would not be able to leave Jonathan alive and would have to get rid of the Pinto so when the police finally discovered the old man dead, they could not tie it to him. He hadn’t been in the house earlier that day and had not touched anything since they had entered.

The thoughts had taken his attention from Jonathan and when the old man turned his eyes widened in shock.

In the old man’s hand was a gun, and the last thing Lee saw was the puff of smoke from the barrel, reminding him of the smoke from the rifle earlier that day. He never heard the sound the gun made as the bullet ripped through his heart and everything went black.

Still standing in the room a short while later, Jonathan, with tears in his eyes, was saying to the assemblage there, “Yes officers, I had tried to help the young man, trying to be his friend. He had come to visit before and then today, as we were out doing some quail hunting, he just became irrational. He killed one of my dogs and my man-servant Simon. He then forced me back to the house and was going to rob me and, I presume kill me too.”

Looking up from his notepad, Detective Morgen spoke, "It all seems cut and dry sir, lucky thing you had the pistol in your safe, or it might be your body they are taking out."

They turned to watch the body of Lee Hamilton, encased in a black bag, was being wheeled out of the room by the medical examiners staff…

THE END

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Originally Published On 4/15/07

Couch Matinee: "HOLLOW"

2010-08-28T00:01:00.001-05:00

It is dark in the room. Not even a sliver of light from below the door. Not a sound to be heard except the sound of the blood pumping through his veins. That pounding sound inside his head, reminding him that he is still alive, even as his surroundings tells him differently. So hollow.

He sits still, not feeling the desire to move in the tiny room he lives. In the total darkness, once, he had stretched out his arms and could touch each of the four walls from where he sat...so close...and his arms folded quickly and he had not moved since.

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It is dark in the room. Not even a sliver of light from below the door. Not a sound to be heard except the sound of the blood pumping through his veins. That pounding sound inside his head, reminding him that he is still alive, even as his surroundings tells him differently. So hollow.

He sits still, not feeling the desire to move in the tiny room he lives. In the total darkness, once, he had stretched out his arms and could touch each of the four walls from where he sat...so close...and his arms folded quickly and he had not moved since.

His ears reaching out for a sound other than the pounding, or worse yet, his own breathing. The reminders that he is in this space and the nightmare shall not end. If the beating stopped, if the breathing sounds stopped would he feel more content. Would the hollowness be filled?

Would the sounds that now make him cringe, when gone, be missed?

Would the hollowness ebb?

Because if they gave him one final wish, and he did ask for another chance, would they actually grant such a thing? Or would they just shake their head slowly and say that second chances were not the things of wishes?

As he sits, silently, motionlessly and begins to feel the hollowness surround him.
Sitting still as it begins to envelop him and he waits for it to complete it's mission.

Proof positive we wrote back in the "olden" days -
and were pretty freakin' dark then too...

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 7/25/07

Couch Matinee: "TWISTELLO"

2010-08-27T00:01:00.000-05:00

Detective Steve Cooper thought his eyes were doing tricks on him. Sure he had seen the character Regan do it in “The Exorcist”, but to see a body live; the chest against the floor and the shoulder blades facing upward…with the head turned 180 degrees, the dead eyes staring up at him, pleading for justice, was almost too much for the 30 year veteran of the Homicide Squad to take.

He turned away from the sight to see through the window, the C.S.I. team climbing from their van. “Let them figure our how someone could snap a neck and turn it around so perfectly.”

CONCESSION SPECIAL:

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Detective Steve Cooper thought his eyes were doing tricks on him. Sure he had seen the character Regan do it in “The Exorcist”, but to see a body live; the chest against the floor and the shoulder blades facing upward…with the head turned 180 degrees, the dead eyes staring up at him, pleading for justice, was almost too much for the 30 year veteran of the Homicide Squad to take.

He turned away from the sight to see through the window, the C.S.I. team climbing from their van. “Let them figure our how someone could snap a neck and turn it around so perfectly.”

“What was that Steve?” This was from Cooper’s partner for the last five weeks, Edward Young. Everyone called him ‘Eddie’, everyone except Cooper, who insisted upon calling him by his given name, Edward. Cooper wondered if his comment about the C.S.I. was not just in his head and he had said the words out loud. “Nothin’ Edward, whatCHAgot?”

Eddie Young was kneeling by the body, using his latex clad hands to check for some identification on the corpse. So, far he had found nothing in the back pockets on the pants or the side pockets of the jacket the victim wore. He needed to wait for the C.S.I. to clear the body and document its position before he would be able to check the front pants and shirt pocket. “No I.D. so far Coop, and would you PLEASE call me anything but Edward, I told you only my mom calls me that, and if she does, she is pissed.”

“OK ‘chump’ here comes the ‘trace twits’, so we better give them some room to do their job.” “Chump is not what I had in mind you clown…”

As Coop and Eddie walked out of the apartment they gave their first impressions of the crime scene to the C.S.I. techs and then began speaking with the neighbors. What they collected was a lot of information about nothing. The apartment was supposed to be empty; no one heard a sound the night before, even the neighbors whose bedroom wall backed to the living room where the body was found.

“How the hell could they not hear anything?” Eddie mumbled as they left the apartment next door. “Freakin’ walls are so thin you could hear a mouse fart through them, but some guy gets his head turned like a screw-cap and they don’ hear a sound…” “Well Edward, it is the nature of people to not want to be involved when something disturbing happens so close to them.” Coop replied.

Eddie Young looked at his partner and thought he saw a little grin disappearing from his lips. Just as he suspected, Coop was calling him Edward more so to bug him than because he wanted to use the formal name…’just busting my balls’, Young thought.

It had been four days and the body found in room 718 of the BOOTS MOTEL had still not been identified. A search of the FBI fingerprint files had turned up nothing. A full sweep of the local neighborhood shops and bars had not turned up one person who could recognize the face. The Medical Examiner had ruled the death a homicide with the cause being a broken spine. This did not surprise either of the detectives. The victim had certainly not taken his own life by twisting his head around. What did surprise them was that there was not a single mark on the body. No defensive wounds, no markings from restraints, nothing.

Eddie Young and Steve Cooper had just finished another day of knocking on doors and asking questions and were sliding onto bar stools at McCrackie’s Lounge, a hangout for their precinct. Sean McCrackie, son of the founder, moved down the bar towards them and grabbed two Foster Lagers, knowing the drinks of his best customers. Sitting the two beers in front of the detectives, he grabbed a bottle of Pinch from the top shelf and poured Coop his double shot and placed the glass on the bar.

“Tough day gents?” Sean asked. “If you call a body with its head twisted like a cork and four days of no clues tough, then yeah…it has been one tough bitch day.” Coop responded as he shot the Pinch down his throat, put the tumbler back on the bar and indicated to Sean to reload the glass. “I saw the story of a body being found around the corner in the paper but they said nothin’ ‘bout no twisted head.”

“Trying to keep that quiet Sean”, Eddie spoke up, “It is just too weird to be out there. This guys head was twisted 180 degrees…I learned how to snap a guy’s neck in the Marines, but damn…I never knew you could twist it so completely without ripping it off the shoulders.” “Well yeah, unless the person doing the twisting was super-human.” Sean mumbled as he walked down the bar to serve a new customer.

Eddie and Coop looked at each other almost simultaneously shook their heads. “Super-human, yeah we got us an evil Superman out there…sheesh.” Eddie said as he finished off his beer. As he placed his bottle back on the counter his pager began to beep. A second later, Coop’s pager also beeped. They both looked down and recognized the number as their shift commander’s.

Coop grabbed his cell phone and dialed. “Yeah Capt’n, he is right next to me. Only one apiece so far…yeah I had some Pinch, but only, um one…OK, OK, two…the same? They sure? OK, well give me the address.”

Twenty minutes and three mints apiece later, they pulled up in front of the CAFFREY MOTEL and LODGE and saw the squad cars and the CSI van already there. As they walked toward the room where all the activity was taking place they were met by their Captain, Andy Dixon.

Dixon was rumored to be in line for the Chief of Police position when the current chief decided it was time to put down his gun and pick up his fishing rod. “Well Capt’n, what do we have here?” Eddie asked.

“Like I told your partner, it should all look familiar to you two.” As the three men walked into the room, the flurry of activity was moving all around them. It looked totally unorganized but they all knew that, like the activity of a bee hive which looked totally frenzied, everything that was going on in the room was well choreographed.

Lying on the floor in the middle of the room was another body. Once again, the head was twisted perfectly 180 degrees, eyes opened, the dead stare straight at the ceiling. Like with the first body, there did not seem to be a mark anywhere on the back, legs or arms. This was easy to ascertain as unlike the first body found, this one was totally naked. “Damn, now he is stripping them naked?” Coop sighed. One of the CSI techs looked up “Think he was naked in bed when the attacker struck” he said tilting his head to the bed, which looked like a struggle had taken place on it.

“No semen on the sheets, so it was not sexual. We found some hairs and some DNA, it is already on the way to the lab, but the hairs appear to belong to our victim.” The two detectives did their through search of the victims clothing and the suitcase which appeared to not have been unpacked. Again, not one shred of identification could be found.

As they had done with the first case, they checked with the front desk and got a look at the register, to find once again an illegible signature and an out of town address, which when looked into, did not exist.

Back in the squad room later that same night, Eddie Young looked over at Cooper and caught him beginning to nod off. “Hey Coop, why don’t cha head home and catch some sleep and I will finish the paperwork”, the younger detective said. “And miss out on all this fun, no way.” Cooper replied. “What do you think of this Edward? Two guys, in their late 30’s, early 40’s, heads twisted like the cap of a quart bottle of beer, no markings on their bodies at all, no injuries other than their necks being snapped like twigs, both registered with phony addresses, no DNA other than theirs, nothing…like this killer is not even human.”

“Coop, you listening to what you are saying? Not human? C’mon, who are you Sean McCrackie? You believe in ghosts and goblins and superman?” “Well, what the hell…no one is that good that they can surprise two guys, both of whom are almost 200 pounds and 6 feet tall, and snap their necks, twisting it all the way around and not leave ANY evidence…not even a freakin’ broken fingernail.”

It was three weeks and four bodies later and Cooper and Young were no closer to ending the killing. After the third killing, someone had clued in the local newspaper and the details began to leak. The newspapers had latched on to the name “Twistello” and to the chagrin of Detective Steve Cooper, the name stuck.

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Originally Published On 3/20/08

Couch Matinee: "THE DREAM"

2010-08-26T00:01:00.000-05:00

Bart Nance did not relish the thought of opening his eyes and looking over at the clock on the nightstand.

The dream had awoken him in a panic. His eyes opened anyway and they watched as the digital time changed to 12:29. What he did not know is if that were AM or PM. The room was in total darkness.

Totally confused by the dream which had woken him, he felt as if he were in a cocoon lying there in his bed. The covers were pulled up over his chin and he lay on his back and closed his eyes.

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Bart Nance did not relish the thought of opening his eyes and looking over at the clock on the nightstand.

The dream had awoken him in a panic. His eyes opened anyway and they watched as the digital time changed to 12:29. What he did not know is if that were AM or PM. The room was in total darkness.

Totally confused by the dream which had woken him, he felt as if he were in a cocoon lying there in his bed. The covers were pulled up over his chin and he lay on his back and closed his eyes.

The dream was so real. He began to see snippets of it, playing on the inside of his eyelids.

He could see himself entering the law firm where he was a Senior Partner. As it was Friday, he was in a pair of jeans, a button down dress shirt in a pastel shade of pink and his black cowboy boots.

Bart saw the meeting he had with his largest client...replayed the entire 4 hour meeting in the span of 2 minutes…his eyes opened and the clock stared back, the green numbers almost burning into his eyes…12:31….

Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on the dream, trying to determine why this dream had affected him so.

Bart saw himself, once again sitting at his local watering hole. He was talking to Frank, the bartender, and eating his normal Friday dinner, Fried Clams and crispy spiced fries. The band was setting up their equipment. Why did the memory of the band cause Bart to shiver as he lay there beneath the sheets and comforter?

The bar began to fill with men and women, some couples but mainly singles, looking for that someone to make their Friday night more rewarding.

Ordering another drink Bart began to scout the club. Single again after a failed marriage, he had tried the blind dates his friends had set up for him, but they never seemed to work. Frank came over and tilted his head as he spoke, “Bart, new talent over in the far corner, never seen her in here before and she looks like she could be cut from her little group.”

Bart’s eyes scanned over to where Frank was looking and noticed her immediately. She was blond, about 5’7” tall. Her hair down around her shoulders, she was wearing a brick red blouse with that one extra button opened so that a bit more skin on her neck was showing. Her jeans hugged her hips and when she turned, Bart could see a tight ass and her long legs.

The band began to tune up and finish their preparation for the evenings set as Bart rose from his barstool and made his way back to the men’s room. His trip was as much an excuse to get a better look at this lady then anything else, as his journey brought him within 3 feet of her. As he walked by she turned and Bart smiled at her and she smiled back.

Bart’s eyes opened again, breaking away from his replaying of the dream, and the clock almost mocked him as the numbers blazed 12:40. The drapes pulled tight, he was still not sure if the sky outside was pitch black or if the sun were shining brightly, but at this point, he felt a need not to know that fact.

Slowly, his eyes closed again and he saw himself back on the bar stool sipping his drink. The band had begun and slowly the crowd was being drawn to the dance floor. He could, once again, see the woman standing with her friends as they watched the interactions of the crowd around them.

Then Bart watched as he stood up and walked directly over to her. She saw him coming and turned and whispered something to her friend. They both looked over toward him and they were both smiling. When Bart approached he also smiled and said “Hi, I was sitting over at the bar and I could not help but notice you. I was wondering if you would like to dance.”

She accepted and Bart led her to the much too small dance floor. They began to move to the music, their feet moving slowly as the song being played had attracted more of the patrons to get up. As the floor got more crowded they were forced closer and closer together and, even though the song was not so, they ended up body to body as if it were a slow number. It was almost impossible to talk Bart leaned in and semi-shouted “Name is Bart, you are very pretty.”

“Hi, I am Angela, thank you very much.” As the song came to an end, the band began to play a slow dance number and Bart immediately recognized it as the old Beatles’ song “Something”. He put his hand out and Angela put hers in his and their bodies became even tighter. They danced slowly, her head on his chest and Bart could smell her scent and he now remembered how it had intoxicated him.

They had danced almost every song for the rest of the evening. When the band took a break, they moved toward his seat at the bar and he stood as she sat and they talked, her hand resting on his chest, smiling up at him.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he realized he was now breathing a little too hard. His body was soaked in sweat and he could not understand why. Had she come back with him that evening? Had he done something to make her angry and she walked out of the bar on him? He could feel a problem…a horror, but he could not remember as he laid there.

He heard a thought in his head and it made his shiver, even with all the covers and comforter pulled up tight. 1:01 the green LED numbers screamed out at him, almost accusingly. Now why would he feel that? He thought of getting out of bed, but instantly knew that if he did, all memories of the dream would fade and he would never know what it was about.

Bart’s eyes closed again and he saw he and Angela in a collage of dancing and talking and then kissing. His body reacted to the visions of the kiss and he remembered how good it had felt.

Then they were in his car, driving…and then in a wooded area, kissing again.

Once more he was driving and he saw them pull into his garage. So she had come here. But where was she now he wondered as he lay there. She had come with him, in his car…so she had to still be there. Those thoughts made him feel even more apprehensive.

Bart saw them entering his home…kissing…dancing to the soft music coming from his stereo…and then he saw them walking toward the bedroom. This bedroom.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he looked around the room without moving. Everything looked normal, yet everything looked askew.

Tilting his head he looked at the clock again…and gasped. The LED numbers read 12:29 again. How could that be? Then his heart nearly stopped. The numbers on the clock were not their normal bright green…no the numbers on the clock were now blood red…

Bart Nance leaped from his bed and was again shocked into another reality. Standing there in the middle of his bedroom, he was fully clothed. Turning on the floor lamp, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself and shivered.

How could that be? Did all of this really happen, or was it just a concoction of his subconscious?

Why were there dark stains on his clothes? Bart Nance stripped his clothes off. A shower will help to revive him and maybe put everything into perspective. He walked into the bathroom and put his hand into the shower and turned on the water.

As the water began to run he turned and looked into the mirror and saw the black rings under his eyes…they had never been there before…why were they there now?

Then Bart pulled the shower curtain back and his eyes opened wide…his jaw dropped open and he began to move backward…the bathroom run snagged under his feet and he stumbled.

Putting his hands out he was not able to catch his fall.

Three days later, the two police officers forced their way into Bart Nance’s home after a call reported that he had not shown up to work or answered any of his phones.

Guns drawn, they made their way through the house.

When they came to the bathroom, they both stopped and re-holstered their weapons.

Looking into the bedroom they saw the man they were looking for, naked on the bathroom floor, a pool of blood around his head. They could see the blood and brain matter on the corner of the vanity where he had obviously banged his head.

The air was foul and the body in the early stages of decay. Flies buzzed around the room.

But that was the simple part of their vision.

The complicated part and the scene that made Officer Paul Getty turn and lose his just eaten lunch of an Italian Hoagie on the carpet in the hallway, was the mass of body parts that they could see under the still running water in the shower…

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Originally Published On 11/19/07