The two men wandered out into the night, they found Paul’s car at the end of the parking lot. It was late and the rain was heavy. They drove in silence as Paul headed east of town, past the brightness of the city, and onto the rural roads that took them into the foothills of the mountains. It was over half an hour before they reached the town where their usual watering hole resided. As he approached the small tavern, Paul finally smiled. He drove past the bar and continued down the road for about a mile until he reached the town’s bowling alley.“What the hell are we doing here?” Ben laughed for the first time since they’d left their fateful event.

“Well, it makes sense that we need something extra tonight. How long has it been since you bowled, Ben?”

“You want to take my mind off it and pretend it didn’t happen?” He paused for a moment. “Ok, let’s go in there and embarrass ourselves. What the hell.”

The place was nearly empty, as it should have been. It was a Thursday night, almost 11 p.m. There were a few people in their early teens other than the help occupying the room. Ben mumbled, “Those kids should be home thinking about their future.”

“Let’s start with a drink, Ben. A little talking might do us good.” They perched themselves at the bar, where an older woman with a hard life etched in her face, took their orders. We’ll take twenty in pull tab tickets.” Paul scanned the games and chose one that only had one twenty-five dollar figure scratched from its board. Turning to Ben, he said, “Maybe we can change our luck tonight.”

She brought them both a beer and a shot of something strong. Paul had left that to her discretion. He handed Ben a shot glass, and picked up the other one, making a toast to the great ideas in life that are overlooked by stupidity. “You never should have slept with her, Ben. I think she’s been planning her revenge for quite a while.”

After downing their shots, Ben picked up his beer, he raised it in the air for another toast. “To our board president, may she lose sleep tonight.” He picked up a ticket and opened it to find a loser. Laughing, he held it up to his friend. “Look, just like me, Paul.” He raised his voice to get the attention of the bar tender, and ordered another round of shots, whatever they were. “I know it was stupid, but everything was good for a while. Then she had to get serious, told me that I was the first man she ever really fell for. I had to tell her that I didn’t return the same feelings. Don’t I get honesty points for that?” Ben shuddered at the thought of her. “You’re right, Paul. Sleeping with the board president is probably the dumbest thing I’ve done in my professional life.”

Paul nodded, while opening a few more tickets. “There, there it is.” He slammed the last open ticket on the bar, and smiled at Ben. “You see? Tonight was supposed to be our time. Five hundred bucks!”

Ben’s body shuddered with an excitement that he wouldn’t have believed possible after the ordeal he’d gone through earlier. “Well, son of a bitch. Maybe we’ll get lucky enough to quit our day jobs.” He laughed. “Wait, I don’t need to quit, I was fired!” He tossed the new drink down.  

He motioned for the bartender to help them, but this time, he squinted so that he could read her nametag. “Pat, we’ll turn this winner in now, keep fifty for you. Could you give us another twenty in,” he scanned over the remaining games and pointed. “That one over there. Yes, that looks like a winner. My friend and I are feeling lucky tonight. And, could you get us another shot?”

Paul held his hand out to Pat, excusing himself from the latest round. “Driving tonight, but thanks anyway.”

Pat returned with Ben’s new drink and tickets. “You boys are celebrating something big, aren’t you? I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people, being in this job. It’s true that a bartender is a good listener, you know.” She remained across from them, ready to give free advice. Pat had seen and heard a lot, she knew all the gossip there was to know about the locals.

With that, the two men broke out into a loud laughter, the drink enhancing the sounds coming out of them. Ben was the one to respond. “You got it right, Pat. Your insight is amazing. And if you continue to find us the winning tickets, it’ll be a good night for you too.”

They continued to talk but left the topic of the dreaded meeting, moving on to dreams of their futures while they opened more tickets and drank more beer. Ben continued to order more shots for himself until he felt his head spinning from the liquor. “Paul, I’m hungry. Could you handle some eggs to top off our celebration?” He turned and looked at the teens that were bowling. “I don’t think I feel like taking that on tonight.”

Paul paid the bill from the proceeds of their earnings, and the two of them left, thanking Pat for her wonderful service. When they entered the night, they discovered that the temperature had dropped a few degrees, just enough to change the rain to a mix of snow. Ben was unsteady on his feet, making the trek to the car difficult. Opening the door, Paul stood nearby to help him, when Ben’s shoe slipped on some slushy ice. He lost his balance, his legs collapsed out from under him. He landed on the ground, his head gashed from hitting the edge of the car door on his way down. Bleeding, he sat on the wet earth, and began laughing. “Well, damn it all. When I woke up this morning, I just didn’t see this end coming.”

Paul helped him into the car, and handed him a paper towel. “Put pressure on that cut, Ben. If it doesn’t stop bleeding, I’m taking you in for stitches.”

“No, take me to my eggs. Besides, a scar would be in perfect order, something to help me remember this day.”

Paul found a 24-hour restaurant. The neon sign flashed, it was only a matter of time before the flickering ‘R’ would lose its glow. Their car rolled into a spot next to the entrance. Checking Ben’s cut before getting out of the car, Paul seemed worried. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing, you may need to see a doctor.”

Ben shrugged him off but continued to push on the paper towel to keep the pressure firm. “Come on, Paul. If you’re ever going to become a superintendent, you have to learn to prioritize. Right now, its food that’s most important.”

An old man watched them from the window of the café. He quietly sipped on his tea, knowing a wonderful secret, knowledge that he would one day share with Ben. He watched as they entered through the door, and made their way to a booth across from him. He wore a tattered old cowboy hat, and tipped it to greet them when he made eye contact with Ben for a split second. It was a wonderful sensation he felt, a smug realization that he now had everything set in motion, life for Ben was about to take on big changes. 

 

Ben moped around his apartment in his bathrobe for the next week, thinking about what had happened and damning Nancy for her ignorant attack against him. He drank too much and ate too little, using his pool table for amusement to pass the hours. He ignored all calls that came in through the phone and refused to answer the door when Paul attempted to visit. His world had collapsed, he was determined to mull around in pity.

It was late in the evening, nearly two weeks after he’d been fired, when he heard the sound of breaking glass coming from the other end of his apartment. Stricken with fear, Ben jumped out of bed and ran to the living room, picking up the fireplace poker as a weapon to ward off the intruder. He slowly tiptoed to the room where he heard the noises, and hid behind a door, waiting with the poker raised in the air, ready to strike.

“Ben, it’s me, Paul. I’m in your house so you can’t ignore me anymore. Sorry about the window but you’ve left me no choice.”

Ben lowered the poker and switched on the light, laughing as he sunk to a sitting position. “Hell, Paul. You had me scared out of my mind. I was ready to take you out.”

Paul stood over him, with his head shaking, “Look at you, man. When did you last shave?” He sat on the floor across from Ben, again shaking his head but didn’t say anything for several minutes. Finally, he said, “You done acting crazy now? What the hell, Ben? Get it together.” Then he smiled. “Could you fetch me a beer?” He laughed, but his eyes were full of compassion.

The two of them stood. With Paul’s arm around his friend, they headed for the kitchen where Ben pulled two beers out of the refrigerator, handing one to Paul. Sitting in the living area, Ben began. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think it’s time for me to take a break from this life, Paul. Last year, the stuff with my father, and now this. I just need to escape for a while and go do some fishing. I think I’ll take off for Idaho and stay for a while, get my head together. I’m going to sell my stuff and live out of the Scamp. I don’t need anything else.” He stared at Paul, waiting for his idea to be rejected.

“The shit you went through with your dad was enough for most people to be weighted down with, but now adding this Nancy thing to the equation, well, your idea sounds like a good one. Do it, Ben. Go to Wind River, be with your friends, and fish every day. Get out of here and don’t look back. When you get your head together, you can be a sup somewhere else, and do there what you wanted to do in Seattle.”

Ben looked at him with shock in his face, “What? You’re not going to fight me?” He walked over to his friend and touched his face. “Is this really Paul?”

Paul pushed him away. “Funny, very funny. Now that you’ve figured all this out, tell me your plan. When do you leave?”

Ben straightened up, “You thought I was here drowning in my sorrows, didn’t you? Actually, I was. But then I thought about leaving town and started making plans. I’ve already found owners for my belongings, so I’m leaving in a few days. I haven’t told anyone until now, and I don’t plan on telling anyone else. Would you like to come with me? Connie wouldn’t miss you for a few months, would she?” He stared at Paul, wishing his proposal was a possibility.

Paul stood. “Well then, that’s it. I’ll try hard to visit in June. Oh, and I’ll send a repair man over tomorrow to fix that window.”     

Ben walked him to the door, promising to keep in touch, and telling his friend that he looked forward to seeing him in the spring. When Paul’s car left, Ben felt a sadness inside, but he quickly brushed the feeling aside. Look forward, Ben, this is nothing more than a blip in your life, things will improve.

 

The Scamp was a small trailer that was light enough to pick up and move the few inches needed when hooking it up to his Jeep. Inside, there was a bed, a worn yellow plaid couch, and a table that wobbled. It had one closet, and was equipped with water, a stove, and a small icebox. There was a porta-potty stowed under the couch. It was all Ben needed for comfort when on one of his fishing trips, and this time, it would have to do for several months.

As an accomplished fly fisherman, Ben had discovered the small town called Wind River in Idaho several years ago while wandering in pursuit of new fishing turf. He had since returned each June to fish, and had become close friends with the owners of a bar and pool hall that was situated on the banks of the Snake River. It was an easy choice for Ben to choose Wind River as his destination, a place to hide while he figured out his next move.

It was early afternoon when Ben reached the east side of Coeur d’Alene. He was in need of a break, so he pulled off the freeway to look for a private place to park. He hadn’t been looking long when he saw a strange looking building ahead of him. Well, I’ll be. I’ve never seen anything like it, he thought. He was staring at the front of a bar that was shaped like a huge fish, whose entrance was its mouth, a mouth that stood at least ten feet high. He couldn’t resist the urge to walk through the unusual entrance but once inside, it looked like any normal tavern. Disappointed, Ben went to the bar and ordered a coffee.

“You here to do some fishin' or just passin' through, mister?”

Ben turned around to see an old man who was smoking a pipe and wearing a hat that said, IDAHO FISHERMAN. “You’ve been labeled, I see. How do you do, my name is Ben.” He held out his hand.

“So what is it? You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m passing through, to do some fishing.”

The man smiled and shook Ben’s hand. “My name’s Harry and if ya ever need to know where to fish in this area, I’m your man. We got the St. Joseph out here, and it fishes just fine, if ya know what I mean. Just where are ya headed?”

“Wind River. Have you tried fishing there?”

“Now, why would I drive that far when all the fishin' I need’s right here? Next time you come this way, take the time to try the St. Joseph. You can usually find me in here, and I’ll take ya out where the good catches are. I knew you was a fisherman when you walked in. You have that look about ya. Let me buy you a drink, Ben.”

Worried about the drive ahead, Ben held his hand out. “Ah, thanks, Harry, but I’d better stick to coffee.”

“Well then, let me tell ya a story. I was out earlier this week an’ I caught the granddaddy of them all. It was cloudy and chilly an’ I was ready to give it up for the day when my line snapped, my reel made that whinny sound. I let ‘em swim out a bit, and then started windin' him in. He was a real fighter, that one. I let ‘em lead me down the river for over an hour. Ben, I played with this guy for almost two hours before one of us got too tired to play anymore. Which one of us do you think that was?”

“By the look on your face, Harry, I’d have to put my money on you. Am I right?”

“No! That sucker broke my line after all that time I put in on ’em. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He had to weigh at least fifteen pounds, but ya know the good news?” He winked at Ben. “He’s still out there and I tell ya, I’m gonna get him in one of these days.”

“Harry, that’s a great story, and I’m sure that old fish is waiting for you to come back. You’ve found yourself a Moby Dick and I’m truly jealous. If I come back this way, maybe I’ll look you up and we can go hunt him down.”

Harry smiled with pleasure, his eyes sparkling. “Hey, you in a hurry? We could go out there now and see if we can find ‘em. Ya have to be careful on this river though, there’re deep pockets of water an’ it’s easy to slip.”

Ben looked at his watch and then laughed at himself. “You know? That’s the best invitation I’ve heard since I started this trip. Yes, let’s go find him.”

Cross Roads is the first in its series. Books can be read in any order.
Cross Roads © 2011 by C. Michaels. All Rights Reserved.




_______________________________________________________________________________________________

No one could have anticipated the looming horror that would make headlines in all the local papers on that February day.

The white beach sparkled in the sun where children and older vacationers dared to combat the undertow in their attempts to be one with the highest waves. The land people carefully constructed elite sand castles, the peddlers began setting up their goods in hopes of selling hats, jewelry, garments, and other treasures.

This paradise was referred to as the Mexican Riviera, and this beach fronted the most elaborate hotel in Mazatlán, Templetons de México.

Templetons stood 22 stories high, proudly hailing her four turrets where the lovely Gloria Templeton and her assistant, Emma lived. The hotel was north of town by about six miles. But from their view, the ladies could see as far as the old part of town to their south, and miles of seaside to the north. The eastern view from the penthouse exposed the foothills of the Sierra Madres, a shockingly different, but equally scenic spectacle in its own right.

Gloria was lost in the numbers of the latest report, “Emma, 80% of the rooms are full, and of course the convention is going to put us over the top. I’ve never seen us look this healthy.”

Emma smiled as she watched the water people from her window. “Gloria, come over here and look at all this.” The hotel’s owner smiled and walked to the turret window to look at the scene below.

“You know, Gloria. It’s amazing that we have all the rooms booked for the week. Your late husband did a masterful job teaching you this business and now, here you are passing on the knowledge to me.” She put her arm around her boss, “You have become so special to me, my little Mazatlán mother.” She laughed. “I heard people talking in the lobby earlier, saying that you are as stunning to look at as the hotel and all these incredible surroundings. But you already know what they say, don’t you?”

Emma had been with Gloria for a little over a year, a 25 year old beauty that held the same sense for business and would undoubtedly inherit the business one day.

“Sure I do, Honey. Like you, I was blessed with good looks. But it’s how you use it that counts, Emma. Never forget that.”

Emma mused over her words as she watched below, when a movement in the water caught her attention. She was used to seeing dolphins, but this creature was bobbing in the waves rather than swimming. She fumbled for the binoculars without taking her eyes off the movement of the thing that was making its way to shore. Slowly, as it neared the water people, its shape became recognizable. Emma dropped the spy glasses, hearing their landing shatter its eye pieces. She slammed her palms against the window and shouted, “Get the children inside!” It was no good, she couldn’t be heard. Her face pale, she turned to Gloria. “Do you see it? Gloria, do you see it out there?”

Gloria ran to the phone, “This is Mrs. Templeton. Get Diego to the beach now. I want all the guests inside. Don’t ask questions, do it now!” Her next call was to the policía.

***

In the waves, two brothers were laughing between swells, forgetting the stress of their lives they’d left behind. The next surge was nearly on them, and the older boy was going to hit this one just right. It would be his best ride yet. He posed himself with his red boogie board, waiting for the giant surf to lift him and bombard his body toward the shore. With his back to the wave, he let its impact take control until its intense suction pulled him under with all the power and vigor massive moving water can have. He opened his eyes to see his brother with him, caught under the wave. He laughed, making that dull, muted sound that comes from talking under water. Together, they were slammed into the sandy flooring of the sea, and then as the mass retreated, the pressure recoiled, allowing them to easily rise to the top where they could grab some needed air. Rubbing his eyes, the boy laughed with mere delight from the insane ride the last wave had provided. Finally he was able to open them and focus once again, expecting to see his brother next to him with a silly grin.

“My God! That was amazing, let’s do it again.” The boy turned to where the sound of his brother’s excited voice had come from but oddly, he was several feet away. Confused, he took a good look at the man next to him, and then let out a shriek. Ahead of him were small children, he couldn’t let them see. “Run, get out of here!” His arms were wildly motioning everyone to get off the beach as the headless man with arms and legs bound, and a bullet in his chest made his final destination to dry land.

_ The two doctors were a few hours away from landing in the place people called Paradise… Mazatlán. The flight attendant appeared with the half empty bottle of a great burgundy. She was pretty, and her smile made it clear why the airline had her working in the front of the plane. “Gentlemen, could I top off those glasses for you?”

Paul Goodfriend held his crystal stemware out, laughing. “You are good to us. I fear we may stumble off this plane. Will you help us if we have a problem?”

“Dr. Goodfriend, you’ll be fine, I’m sure.” She tipped the bottle and filled his claret with the purplish red liquid. “Is it true that you two will be hosting the regression convention at Templetons? I read the news about that poor soul that washed up onto their beach. I think I might think twice about staying there.” She leaned over to fill the second claret. “But with that said, I have been to Templetons and it is truly beautiful. That Mrs. Templeton really knows how to make your stay pleasant.”

Paul attempted to sound brave about the body with no head, but there was a small sense of nervousness in his voice. “Please call my colleague here, Jeremy,” he put his hand on the other Doctor’s shoulder, “and my name is Paul.” His eye color had an unusual but stunning hue of blue, and in spite of the unsettling subject, he was able to make them sparkle for her. “Jeremy and I were just talking about that incident, but it did happened a few days ago making it old news. I read that the police haven’t identified who it was, but are reporting that it was most likely drug related. Tourism is totally safe. Shelly, why don’t you figure out a way to stay in town for a few days? You can stay with me. I’ll even make you my assistant, and give you a personal trip into your past.” He smiled at her, his expression saying so much more than his words. He was nice to look at, and knew that he had just planted an image in her head that would make most women blush.

“Thanks, Paul. But I’d better not play hooky. You are a shroud one, though.” She laughed and moved on to the next customer.

 “Come on, Paul. Are you going to do this the whole week? It’s embarrassing to watch you in action. These poor women you hit on are usually half your age. They must be laughing at the old fool that you are after escaping from your sight.” Jeremy didn’t want to be associated with the cad next to him, but also knew that their relationship would soon be over. One more week to spend time with this miserable man.

 Paul responded to his ramblings by sipping his wine, and reading the book he had purchased for the trip. A few minutes went by before he looked up. “Jeremy? This is it, the week we’ve been looking forward to for a very long time. I’m feeling pretty smug about it all, aren’t you? Power is so delicious and we have it all this week. Let’s try to get along and enjoy this caper, what do you say?”

It didn’t bother Paul that Jeremy didn’t even like the sound of his voice anymore. He was aware that Jeremy had once admired him over any other man, but they’d gone through a lot over the years leading up to this final job. If there was anything to rejoice about, it was that they would soon break from each other, becoming independent men once again.

Jeremy seemed to be reading his thoughts, “Paul, you’re right. I need to concentrate on enjoying the city, and the knowledge that this is it between us. We’ve finally made it to the end of our dream and that is certainly a good feeling.” He raised his glass for a toast, and with Paul’s participation, there was a gentle clicking sound before they both went back to their own silent worlds.

_ It was Sunday and the lobby was full of new guests. Gloria stood graciously, waiting to greet the man responsible for the popular convention that had filled her rooms. She mused at the money people spent on such nonsense.

She’d gone to great lengths to assure that her attire accentuated her impressive chest and small waist, not to mention the beautiful shape of her legs. Her age had not diminished her looks, and she knew her attributes were somewhat responsible for having helped her achieve the success she’d enjoyed at her favorite hotel. But she also realized that she needed to be alert and calculating to ensure that each day passed without any glitches. Reputation had always been the key to her achievements. There was no magic involved, but instead, a carefully orchestrated day to day strategy designed to ensure that each of her guest’s desires was fulfilled. Looks were everything, and she had chosen the appearance of elegance as opposed to gimmicks. She didn’t have a small white dog to clutch in her arms, but instead, Gloria enhanced her mystic by showing off her young protégé, the innocent but ambitious Emma.

Gloria was instantly impressed with Emma during their first meeting. She had finished graduate school with high grades a little over a year before, and had a natural sense for business. She hadn’t wasted her time interviewing with the numerous head hunters who wanted to court her, to persuade her to be their client. Rather, she had headed directly to México and insisted that she was destined to work hand in hand with the famous hotel mistress, Mrs. Templeton. It had been her intention, her goal from an early age, and there was nothing that could have stopped her. Within a short time, Gloria had embraced her as a close companion, a daughter-like trainee who was undoubtedly helping the hotel gain prestigious fame throughout all of America.

Gloria often mused over her assistant’s headstrong spunk along with her stunning looks. And likewise, she admired Emma’s eagerness to show off whenever she was in public. She had immensely long legs, and was similarly blessed with a womanly body shape comparable to her own. Other than Emma’s blond hair as opposed to her distinct dark locks, they could have easily been confused as blood relatives. Gloria was impressed at how Emma had been trained. Her philosophies matched her own business ideas, and she claimed the same ambition that had helped Gloria gain international recognition in the hotel industry.  She saw Emma as a leader, her persona demanding respect from those around her.  She was the perfect company to have at her side.

“He’s here, Emma. Stand straight, and let me talk.” Gloria’s smile lit up her face as she watched him walk through the door and slowly approach them. “Paul, it’s so good to see you.”

He took her hands and kissed each side of her face. “Umm, that wonderful smell, it’s as beautiful to my nose as you are to my eyes. It’s good to see you again, Gloria.”

Laughing, Gloria placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and turned to guide him toward the lounge. “Paul, let my assistant take your suitcase, and give her your credit card. You and I are going to have some time to talk before you see your fabulous suite. Emma, please check Dr. Goodfriend in, and have his luggage taken to his room.”

Paul turned toward the assistant, and stopped Gloria. “Please introduce me to this lovely woman before she disappears from my eyes, Gloria. I’ve had a very long trip but I think I can get over it if I have hopes of a dinner date with this beautiful creature.”

Gloria held her disdain for the man, smiled and graciously did the introductions. He leaned into Emma, turning on his charm. “Please call me Paul, dear Emma. Would you do me the honor of being my date tonight at the opening of the convention?”

Emma knew better than to show up her boss, so she proceeded with care. “Dr. Goodfriend, both Mrs. Templeton and I have every intention to be with you tonight. I’ll get you checked in, and see you around eight o’clock.” She smiled at Gloria before directing herself toward the front desk.

Gloria watched her assistant reach the other side of the room and was amused at the obvious interaction taking place between the Emma and the receptionist. “Paul, it appears to me that you have my receptionist rather excited.” They looked in the direction of the two women and felt as though they were hearing the exchange between them. “Don’t get too excited, they’re both out of your reach, Paul.”

She saw the receptionist throw her hand on Emma’s, and gasp. Gloria imagined what she was saying, “I cannot believe I say this, Emma, but I almost wish I am 20 years older so I can have a chance with the doctor. Do you know he is going to be so gorgeous?”

Seeing Emma look back to get another sneak peak at Paul, Gloria knew her thoughts. He was a good dresser, and had an athletic body type. His salt and pepper hair enhanced the tanned face that he had no doubt spent time prepping at a tanning salon. And his eyes were an unusual blend of blue and brown. She’d seen the same color in the beauty department of her favorite store, an eye shadow color, perhaps. She knew that the two young women would see him as a class act, and she also suspected that Emma would wonder if there was a past between Paul and herself. “Excuse me, Paul. Give me a moment, will you?”

Gloria walked to the front desk and put her palm over the receptionist’s hand.  “He’s ok to look at, Lety. But he is way too old for you. So why don’t you concentrate on checking him in?” Turning to Emma, she smiled, and then left them to join the man who was responsible for bringing them a popular convention that had managed to fill the rooms of their grand hotel.

Laughing, Gloria eased Paul down the hall. “Come, my friend. We have a lot of things to discuss before the festivities begin.”

_
NO FEAR! is the second in its series. Books can be read in any order.
NO FEAR! © 2011 by C. Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday

Claire recognized the faint stinging sensation creep along her skin, her blood pressure forced a flush to her face. Her vision panned in a swirl of circles until it found a dim light exposing the dismal apartment where she would begin the nightmare trek into the darkness of pain and sorrow… again.  Her body felt detached but she was aware, her mind was intact. She knew the cruel and ugly event that was destined to transpire. Maybe, just maybe she could change the outcome this time.

 She stood helpless at the side of the room and watched as she always did. It was the only way for it to end, to endure it, to get through it. The nasty smell in the air permeated into her throat, making its way to her tongue, presenting a sickening taste in her mouth as the images surrounding her began to flourish into focus. Eminent death tore through her veins.

Claire observed the pretty young girl who sat on the couch. Her mascara was smeared against the wet skin below her eyes. She was drunk. Picking up the phone, the girl dialed but her sloppy coordination slowed her down. It seemed an eternity before she spoke into the receiver. “Where are you? Damn it. I need to talk to you. I can’t take it anymore. Pleas…” The phone slipped out of her hand. She crossed her arms around her ribs and began rocking her body. “I’m sorry, please know that I’m sorry.”

The girl stood, and walked slowly toward the door, picking up her bag from the table. Turning to look at the room one last time, her lips trembled. In a slur, she announced to the emptiness that had held her captive, “I must do this. Everything’s going to be better soon.” Then she looked directly at Claire and said, “Do something about this. Be strong and use your life to stop all this.” She took a deep breath and exited her personal chamber of hell.

Claire shuddered, a sudden jolt stung her insides. My God, she knows I’m here. My God, she knows. She closed her eyes and tears spilled down her face. Did she see me? Did she speak to me? Hope radiated from within but when she opened her eyes, she was in the back seat of the girl’s car. “Don’t do this, Trista. Hear me, just don’t do this.” Claire knew it was of no use but had to try. She choked on her words, desperation in her voice, “Please. Hear me!” She reached over the seat to touch the young woman but the car seemed to stretch to the length of a limousine, leaving her range far from the woman. She put her head down and screamed, “NO. Please!”

The car was moving, darkness had settled in, and smoky clouds had erupted with rain that poured in a steady stream of… of what? Claire couldn’t tell, the slow motion behavior of happenings had become surreal. She watched as the driver turned on the radio, her fingers fumbling with the knob until she found the perfect tune. She cranked up the dial and sang. Then, she laughed, an uncontrollable sound filled with anguish. Claire had heard it many times before. But each night she reacted as if hearing it for the first time and would think, how can a laugh sound so painful, be so full of suffering?

Trista pushed the button to stop the music. She leaned forward to see through the window only to realize that rain was ruining her view. “When did the rain start?” She flipped the handle and the wipers began performing with a rote rhythm. The night’s weather was filled with sickening gloom, clouds hovering over the town, the torrent of rain. And then she said it, “Are you enjoying your dream tonight, Claire?”

Fear struck throughout Claire’s body. She pulled herself closer to the girl and tested this new development, “My God! You can see me, Trista. Can we stop this?”

The girl howled, obviously amused. But then she spoke, “You’ve become such a smart woman.” Her head wobbled and her body began to sway in her seat. “I really did love you. Yes, so much love.” Her voice faded away as she slowed the movement of the car.

Claire saw the house in the distance.

They pulled up to the handsome manor where Claire heard the engine die. The wipers continued their concert, destroying the rain pellets that beat against the windshield.

The home was a stunning feat in architecture, announcing to the town that it was the place where important people lived. Trista had parked on the street where she stared at the large front window. The happy family was gathered around the formal dining table. They were laughing at something. Her head jerked as a tormented sound escaped from her mouth, “Claire, let’s see who the boss is now.” She reached for her purse and pushed on the lever that opened the gateway into the abyss of darkness. Nearly falling out of the car, she stumbled to her feet, and began her sloppy march. The door was left ajar, the metronome sound of the wipers purred on.

Claire followed behind the girl, she gasped for each breath. “Trista, damn it. HEAR ME. I’ll take you home with me, I’ll make you feel safe.” She tried to grab her arm but couldn’t quite reach. She never could quite reach.

Once on the porch, Trista turned to Claire and gave her a twisted smile, her eyes had a wildness in them. “You know it’s too late for that, right? I have to do this so you can become you. This is how it’s supposed to play out.” She turned to face the doors but spoke again, her tone had become malevolent. “Always did like this porch, the pillars alone shout to people like you and me how prestigious its owners are.” An evil sound released from deep within her. The doors opened with a servant standing tall with pride. Trista’s expression seemed dazed but then she said to him, “Did I ring? I don’t remember ringing, why are you looking at me like that?” A wicked quality in her voice, a lost woman stood eye to eye with the man who was shaking his head.

“You know you can’t be here, Miss. Winslow. Now you just turn around and go home. Things will get better for you soon.”

The man’s voice had a hint of compassion, but Claire could see the mistrust in the girl’s mannerism. She shivered at how the butler looked right through her. This was how it was each night, Claire wasn’t there and yet she was.

“Don’t do this, Trista.” Again, Claire reached for her arm but when the tips of her fingers closed in on her, distance stretched between them as if they each held opposite ends of a rubber band. But they weren’t the ones in control of the strange elasticity bonding them together. Defeat, agony emitted through Claire’s insides, she had been so close this time. She believed that she could stop the inevitable if she could just touch the girl.

Claire knew what was next, she watched as Trista hurled her fist into the door, giving her the advantage of surprise, permitting her to force herself past the nice man. She looked strong, stronger than she’d been in over a year. This was her medication and it was working. Soon, everything would be good, no more pain for Trista. Standing in the entrance to the splendid dining area, Claire studied the girl as she gazed at the family. Her chest heaved, her body wavered. Tears made her vision blurry. An intermittent jerking of her head forced a horrid gulping sound to escape from her trembling lips.

The husband looked up and stood, his arm flinging in the air toward her while he cried out in anger, “Jesus Christ, Trista. How did you get in here?” He looked beyond her and yelled, “Frank, what the hell is going on? Get in here and take this bitch out of my home.” Looking at his wife, he pointedly gestured toward the phone, “Call the police.” She froze with horror. He shrieked his next order. “NOW!”

Trista silently slipped her hand into her purse, and pulled out the pistol that would take care of everything. She could no longer hear sounds around her, everything had become a blur. “Funny, so this is what it’s like to have complete control.” Closing her eyes, she gripped tightly to the gun’s handle with both hands. Claire watched helplessly, and then heard the wife scream at the same moment the girl’s finger drew back on the trigger.

Claire knew what was next. Believing this time was different, she pushed herself, making strides toward the girl. It did feel different, she was making headway. Reaching, reaching. Stretching her fingers, the tendons in her arm, all of her. “Trista, NO…” The girl raised the gun to her head and fired.

Claire screamed and sat up in her bed. Her breathing was heavy, her body wet. She got up to splash her face with cold water. Outside, the rain streaked against the window. Her body trembled. She raised her head as she leaned against the wall and screamed with agony. She had been closer this time, she’d felt it. Slowly, her form slid down into a crouched position on the floor. This is where she always finished her nightly event, crumpled on the cold tile flooring and sobbing until she passed out. This was the nocturnal life of Claire Winslow.

“Three, two, one!”

Claire sat in her assigned chair, smiling at her host, more nervous than normal. She was a pro with the interviews, but this one was different. She’d chosen a smart suit, its pinkish tweed against her pale skin enhanced by her dark hair and green eyes aided to boost her confidence. The discussion was being led by a smart lady, a lady who wasn’t shy with her questions. Claire knew it, and hoped it would end sooner than later. She’d already put in a long day, but needed to forge ahead in order to tell her story. Her story, that’s why she was in this studio.

The bill was about to be released. Claire knew she’d have to wade through the irrational, senseless questions about its contents, a bill she hadn’t even yet read.

“Welcome back. Tonight I have the great pleasure of interviewing Claire Winslow, the Senator from the great state of Washington.” Rachel smiled. “I don’t get the chance to sit across from many Republicans so this is a very special night for me.” She turned to face Claire. “Welcome, Senator. And thank you for being brave enough to come on my show.”

Claire smiled and said warmly, “Thank you. I’m actually a fan of yours.” She laughed. “Not that I agree with many of your ideas, but I do admire your brains and courage to put yourself out there. You’ve made a real name for yourself, Rachel Ross. And it’s impressive.” She watched her host laugh.

“Good start, just two brainiacs having a cordial conversation.” Rachel paused and then started the interview. “Let’s get right to it, Senator. There’s a bill that will soon be released for the public to read.”

Claire added, “And for us Senators to read, Rachel.” Her voice was strong, she felt good about her delivery. Yes, this was going well, she could sense it.

Claire was an attractive 40 year old with exquisite taste in clothing. Her dark curls combined with green eyes were stunning, her figure was trim but with womanly curves. And, she was a solid interviewer. She kept her eyes on Rachel, construing each question before it was asked.

Smiling, the interviewer continued, “Yes, of course. Now, this bill, SB 1257 it’s called. The changes in the bill terrify me. It aims at amending the Constitution, a revision that strips many rights from women. Do I have this correct?”

 “Well, yes. But it’s not just women. Nonetheless, we can address that part of it if that’s what you want. The party that I’ve chosen to affiliate myself with, the Republican Party, has a bill that’s nearly ready for release. The wording of this bill could cause women to feel like their rights are being threatened, the operative word here being could. That needs to be clear. But, may I repeat. This bill, if the rumors are correct, is not only threatening women’s constitutional rights, but also the civil liberties of many groups in this country.”

“So you’re broadening the scope of what’s in this bill. Am I hearing you correctly?”

“We need to read it, Rachel. But it appears that some of the bill’s contents, according to the media, inject religious morals into the government. And it extends privileges for gun ownership as we know it.” Claire was out on a limb, her nerves began to fight her confident manner. “We have to wait and see, Rachel. Without knowing its actual substance, it’s a waste of time to dwell on this.”

“But why, if this bill bothers you, do you belong to a party with ideas so demeaning and dangerous to this country?”

Claire wore her cat and mouse smile. They were playing a game in front of the camera, a game between two fighters from the opposite spectrum of the political system. She lived for chances to engage in such public forums. “Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the Republican philosophy. I am a true conservative. You know, the fight for individuals, smaller government. Let’s put the real power in the hands of individual states. It’s just that my party may be reaching too far to the right with this bill.” Claire proceeded with care, she’d known that this interview wouldn’t be easy. “Now, with that said, I, like most of the Senate members have not yet read this bill. My remarks tonight are coming from what I’ve heard through leaks in the press. But, Rachel. You and I both know that here-say can be just that.  I simply hope that my speaking out will encourage the authors of this bill to temper its contents. In the event that the leaks are accurate, that is.” Claire leaned toward her host and spoke with an authoritative tone. “This is how things happen in the Senate. You have to start with an idea, but then it gets revised until it makes sense to a majority.” She watched Rachel fidget in her chair, anticipating what the next question would entail.

“Senator, I want to change courses now,” she paused. “If I may, and forgive me if I’m getting too personal with you. But,” Rachel lowered her head for a moment. When she looked up, she proceeded. “Something happened to you 20 years ago that prompted you to become who you are today. Would you care to share it with our viewers?”

There it was. Claire was ready. This, after all, was the reason she had accepted the invitation to be on the show. She hesitated, and took a sip of her water. Then she raised her head, making eye contact with her host. “It was 20 years ago when my sister killed her rapist and then took her own life.”

“The rapist, he had been found guilty in a court of law?”

“No. He was the CEO of a prestigious electronics firm. He had money and influential friends, his attorneys were able to keep his name clean by publicly humiliating my sister. They were able to make this man out to be the victim, leaving my sister helplessly lost in her pain.” Claire took another drink of her water. “Until she snapped.”

“So you went through this ordeal and it left you knowing what you wanted to do with your life?”

“No. Not then. I mean, I kind of did. I knew that I needed to help with the injustice many rape victims are put through. I became an attorney. So in that respect, it threw me in a direction to provide me with a public voice. But it wasn’t until years later when it occurred to me that I needed a national platform. To really make a difference, that is.” Claire wasn’t happy with the way she had stammered through her message but held on to a solid expression to hide her thoughts.

“Forgive me, but I’m still confused why you chose your party.”

“Rachel, as I said before. I believe in the traditional conservative values. It’s just that… Well, let me put it this way. This issue shouldn’t be partisan. This is a human rights concern, and should be treated as such.”

“Senator, I know it can’t be easy talking about this. I am deeply grateful for having the chance to hear what you have to say.”

“Thank you. I know you have a lot of viewers so I’m appreciative for the attention you give this topic.” Claire saw Rachel move into her closing posture and felt relieved.

“Senator, thanks for joining us tonight, I really appreciate it. And if I may ask, do you think I could convince you to come back after this SB 1257 is made public?”

Claire returned the request with one of her famous smiles. “Of course, Rachel.”

Turning into the camera, Rachel finished with, “Claire Winslow is a Senator from the great state of Washington, and is the chair of this year’s National Committee for Women Against Violence.” She clasped her palms together and finished. “We will be right back.”

The break for the advertisement came and Rachel turned to Claire. “Listen, I would love to continue this conversation with you. Do you have time for a cocktail in about an hour?”

Claire stood and shook her host’s hand. “I’d love that. But let’s make it a coffee. There’s an old coffee house on C Street, the one that looks like an abandoned fire station. It’s called The Old Mill House.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it. Always wanted to try it out, actually. Why don’t we meet there in say,” Rachel looked at her watch. “How about 10:30?”

Claire lost her control, allowing her expression to give her thoughts away. She sensed the host picking up on it so was not surprised to hear Rachel’s next words.

“Sorry about the late time, maybe we should do this in the afternoon. I sometimes forget that my shift doesn’t always jive with day workers.”

Quick with her return, Claire said, “No, no. I’m fine. But Rachel, if we’re going to share a coffee date, you must call me Claire.” She smiled and left the studio, leaving Rachel to wrap up her show, and knowing that she’d just made some powerful men very angry.

The office was dimly lit where the four Senators sat in front of the television, each with a fine glass of Johnnie Walker Blue. By the yelling at the screen, it appeared that they were watching a thrilling game of football, but undeniably, it was not a game. It was the Rachel Ross Show, a black-balled news show for all elected Senators in their party.

Bill was the youngest in the group, a promising up and rising Senator from the state of Maine. He always watched and listened, hoping to learn at each event. He thought about the luck he had stumbled upon, being invited into the den with these three influential men. It wasn’t just his handsome looks that had put him in this room. He was ambitious, willing to do almost anything to become one of them. And here he was, now a member of the Fabulous Four. Elated, he watched the others as the show rambled on with Claire Winslow shooting herself in her foot.

Ryan, a Senator from Ohio was angry, shaking his fist at the screen. “I warned Claire not to do this, I told her it would damage her. Stupid woman!”

Another Senator in the room, Dirk, laughed. “Well, I for one am enjoying this. I’ve always wanted to stare at that face and those great tits but didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Just to have a few minutes with that bitch would make me a happy man. Hey, are we recording this show? I want a copy to take with me.”

Bill waited to hear how the senior Senator would handle Dirk. He observed, knowing he would learn from it.

“Stuff it, Dirk. This isn’t porn.” Clancy was a Senator from Florida, a big man, one of the most powerful Senators on the Hill. And, the co-author along with Ryan, of SB 1257. His tone told the others to watch and listen, and shut up.

Bill obeyed and observed silently until the show finished. Clancy told Dirk to switch off the television and took another sip of his fine drink. Bill watched. Moments went by before he turned to face the others, and in a solemn voice, he asked, “What are we going to do about her?”

Claire had decided to wait in the studio for Rachel. She had a car and offered to drive to the coffee house.

“Rachel, I’m overdressed.” Claire laughed. “I have to be careful how I act around you because of the politics, but now that we are alone… Well, I just have to say that I admire the way you don’t care about what people think.”

Rachel lowered her head to check out what she was wearing and gave Claire an odd expression. “I look that bad?” She had very short dark hair and black-rimmed glasses. She often received hate mail from viewers of the show, telling her that she looked like an overgrown boy. But Claire was right about her. She didn’t care what people thought and proudly wore her jeans to the show each night. At the age of 35, Rachel had proven herself by guest hosting on several of her network’s shows. She had been labeled the vacation girl until one of the more prominent shows lost their star, leaving Rachel at the right place and right time. She did let the network fuss with her makeup and wore a blazer to dress up her torso. She knew her attire wasn’t the normal choice for a professional news woman and was grateful she was given this freedom. A little makeup and jacket was a small price to pay.

“No, not at all. I really do admire your guts. I could use some of what you have. I believe you’re not only the gutsiest news person around, but the smartest as well. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything on your broadcast without backing up your words with facts. It doesn’t matter if I agree with your politics, I like your sassy ways.” Claire smiled, “We’re almost there, you’re going to love this place.”

“Claire, don’t underestimate yourself. So, you have to appear more professional. Other than that, I see your work as overt and spirited. You’re what’s needed in the Senate and I’m grateful for your work.” Rain was now bubbling on the windshield. The neighborhood they drove through was barren of people, and it seemed darker than the average night. The car tires rumbled as they rolled over the iron of abandoned rail tracks, adding to the mood of the empty night. “Speaking of gutsy, are you sure this is a safe place to be at this time?”

“Am I hearing a nervous twinge inside that bold frame?” Claire slowed down, and parked in front of the coffee shop, a building that had a funky Bohemian appearance combined with the style of an old Fire House. “We’re here. And trust me, this is your type of place. Let’s go.”

Eve Hart had been walking for what seemed hours when she spotted the dim lights coming from the top of the stairway leading to the underground subway system. Grateful, she followed the inviting glow, the alluring ambiance, knowing that it would help to clear her head to sit and think. The late hour didn’t matter to her. Her husband was in New York City for another day, the kids away at college. She was free to wallow in her pity.

Free. Funny expression to Eve.

Down under the streets of the D. C. neighborhood, she felt uneasiness, a fear of being alone in a dungeon at such an ungodly hour. She knew that the trains ran all night but didn’t hear any sounds of hope. She saw a ladies room, and certain that she must look terrible, decided to freshen up. Surely, she would hear the train in time.

Inside the little room, she looked at her reflection only to confirm the thoughts, she was a mess. She applied some lip stick and played with her blonde curls before hearing the sound of chatter outside the door. Good, she thought. The train, the friendly sounds were inviting. But when she opened the door, the shock made her freeze in her steps.

She felt as if she was peeking through a window but what she saw couldn’t be real. She braved it by stepping into the room, inside the warm confines of a coffee house. She stared, an obscure observer standing at the back of the room. It was a sight like none she’d ever experienced before. Am I dreaming? Eve slowly walked deeper into the setting and found a booth to rest her aching body.

She looked up to see plants hanging over the beams. Above them was a glass rooftop that gave an open appearance, presenting a wonderful view of bouncing raindrops. I must be dreaming. It’s so beautiful.

The place was ancient, it had a wonderful old feeling to it, and made her smile in spite of herself. There was a long counter that ran along the depth of the south wall, complete with stools like she’d seen in old movies. What did they call it, a fountain? The booth was surprisingly comfortable. Each table had an old machine sitting at its far side, a machine full of labels for music. Eve wasn’t sure what to make of that so she let her eyes continue to wander.

The inner guts of the room took on a caverness shape. The walls were made of concrete with graffiti subtly sprayed over the back portion of its chamber. There were several carved out archways opening into smaller sections of the expanse, the space giving the illusion of what Eve perceived as a cove of den-like fragments. Taking a closer look, there were exposed bricks that provided the impression of age. Or was the timeworn apparition real? At the back of the room’s cavity was a delightful wall with a large, maybe 15 foot tall painting displayed with tiny white lights that hung perfectly to give the delusion of an arch over the image. It was masterful trickery, an enchanting vision. 

Next, she noticed an old tree trunk that crawled against an inner wall, as if it had tentacle arms reaching to dominate its space. The tree delighted her, it made her laugh. Its smell disturbed her nose slightly, the faint scent of mildew forcing her to rub her face. The dim lighting completed the old-style look, making Eve feel as though she’d gone back in time inside the restraints of the old walls. There was a magical feel, a mystical flavor to the scene.

The perfect setting for Eve to reflect.

She heard an unexpected amount of background chatter for such a late hour. Sighing, she thought back on the events of her day with a feeling of contentment, a foreign but welcome sensation.

“Penny for your thoughts,” the waitress looked down on Eve with a warm smile. She wore a wonderful old fashioned apron over her plain dress.  Again, right out of the old movies. They hadn’t missed a beat. She was old and wore too much makeup, her lips were painted bright red, her dyed blonde hair tied in a bun that sat clumsily on the top of her head. Her thin, lengthy body stood tall over Eve. 

“Oh, I know I look terrible.” Eve played with her hair, managing to rearrange the few misplaced curls. “Could you bring me a cup of espresso?”

“Lady, I’ll bring whatever you like. As far as your looks go, you’re a stunning beauty.” She turned to pan the room of patrons, showing Eve the impression she’d made on the other coffee consumers.

Taken aback by the gazing eyes, Eve fumbled in her purse for sunglasses, anything to hide herself. She needed to be invisible, yearned for obscurity.  Then she pointed to a nearby wall and said, “So many old photos. I especially like that one.” Eve singled out an old Mustang convertible. “I remember those as a kid, they were so popular.”

The waitress laughed at her. “Honey, that picture was taken just last year. You just don’t get it, do you?” The woman placed her hand on the name tag pinned over her heart, “My name’s Donna so you just let me know if you want anything more.” She left Eve alone, and went to fetch her order.

Penny for my thoughts? When does anyone talk of pennies anymore? Eve hadn’t heard that saying in over twenty years. And that photo? The lady was playing with her. Her mind wandered again. She’d traveled to the D.C. area for anonymity, knowing that she would be a stranger to all. She remembered the doctor’s horrid words he’d said earlier that evening, “Mrs. Hart. I have good news, you are pregnant.”

“God, no!” It just came out. Startled, Eve searched the room and was thankful that the people had gone back to their conversations, allowing her to think. She needed a plan. This news could potentially be the end of her if she couldn’t take care of it. But how?

The little bells above the front door rang, interrupting her thoughts. Eve looked up to see two distinguished women enter the room. Following their movements, she saw them take the booth in front of where she was sitting. She was in hearing distance. Good, she thought. This might help me overcome my distress. Sure, eavesdrop on others, just what I need to get my mind off my troubles.

The apron lady returned, and laid a small plate in front of her, enticing Eve with a homemade scone. “Honey, you don’t look very happy. This is on the house, best scones in the city always promise to pick up down spirits.” Then she put a cup in front of Eve and tipping the coffee urn, Eve watched the liquid fall from above. But it was slow, like molasses, taking on the appearance of a beautiful water fall. Before Eve could speak, the waitress winked at her and went back to her work.

Eve took off the sun glasses, amused at herself. She sipped from the cup, delighted with its taste. She hadn’t experienced such a rich flavor in years, maybe never.

The two ladies in the booth next to her began their talk. Eve listened, hoping to get lost in their exchange.

“Senator, I mean, Claire. As you probably know, I’m more of a cocktail fan, but this place…” The woman looked around. “This place is something else.” It was apparent that the talking lady was taken with the ambiance of the coffee house.

Claire responded to her confidant, “Rachel, this is where I meet with women who are in trouble. I give them options, places to go for help. That sort of thing.”

The woman called Rachel leaned into the table, and said softly, “Claire, I am sorry for the loss you endured as a young woman. But I’m also deeply grateful for your work in this cause. My show can help, so please. Call on me whenever you want.”

Claire reached into her purse and pulled out a silver case with her initials embossed over the top. She opened it and pulled out her business card. Then she reached for a pen to scribble her personal phone number on the back. “Rachel, please don’t share this with anyone else, but I would like to use your TV show if I may.” Then she added, “I have your number, and I’ll use it when I need you.”

Smiling, Rachel took the card, and placed it on the table to her side.

Eve continued to listen to their conversation, entranced with the work that Claire did for women. She heard Claire tell Rachel how she helped those who needed abortions, she talked about working with battered women. Women this, women that. Mostly, however, Eve was struck with the knowledge that Claire was a Senator. What did that mean? She’d never heard of a woman holding such a position. Sadly, she saw their conversation come to an abrupt end, Claire evidently needing to leave because of an early morning meeting.

Raising her hand to the waitress, Eve asked for her bill, knowing that it would take at least an hour for her to get home. Donna obeyed her request by laying a receipt on the table that simply said, Thank you, and please come back again. First time is free. Eve thanked her for the generosity and stood to make her exit.

When she walked by the table where the ladies had been, she saw the business card sitting on the table. The Rachel lady had forgotten it. How lucky. It was as if she’d left it for Eve. Looking around, it appeared that no one was aware of her anymore. She slowly reached for the card. Her fingers made contact, yes. She had it in her grasp. Snatching it up, she placed it in her purse and left the warm setting where she’d spent her last hour. This Claire woman who answered to the name of Senator. It made no sense, but a tingle of serenity flowed through Eve’s insides. I might try calling her. What harm could it do?

Eve started for the front entrance when she felt a hand grasp for her arm.

“Honey.” The waitress pointed to the door in the back of the room. “You may want to freshen up first.” She winked again.

Staring in the direction where the woman had motioned, Eve complied with her orders. Slowly, slowly, she walked, keeping her eyes focused on the door’s shiny brass handle. The tentacles of an old tree had grown over much of the entry since Eve’s arrival but she still sauntered toward it. She hadn’t seen this tree before, only the one growing on the inner wall. How strange. Slowly, slowly. When she was in reach, she put her hand out for the brass knob. The overgrown limbs were strangling the exit but still, she forced her hand to make contact. Her senses became dizzy, eyesight blurred. She could see the extremities of the ancient tree shrivel, allowing the portal to open with ease.

The other side of the entryway coaxed her to travel across the threshold. And when she did, the subway was waiting for her. Its doors slid to the side allowing her to enter where she found a comfortable seat. There, she closed her eyes, permitting the hum of the train to tickle her brain. Eve sensed safety and let the coach take command, something telling her that everything would be ok. She couldn’t begin to understand what she had witnessed in the coffee house but for now, she was tired, she felt slightly drunk. The movement of the car felt smooth, the sound was mesmerizing as she felt herself slipping away.

The Bill of Wrongs © 2012 by C. Michaels. All Rights Reserved.