George yelped, startled at the invasion. He was wearing a brown singlet and puffed out smoke from his nose, a cigarette in mouth. “What the hell man?” he barked at the huge man who had just broken his door as he assessed the broken lock.
“You’re gonna pay for that–“ he was saying when he saw that face.
The man had moved to the side, giving Robert enough space to stalk in, a smirk on his hard tight face. It was certain George obviously recognized him as his eyes widened in shock and the cigarette fell to the ground.
“George Brown,” Robert called in a whisper, irking at the smell of the cigarette in the completely disorganized room. The small bed in the far end of the room was clustered with a heap of raggedy clothes all over and under it. Snack wrappers at every corner. Only a ray of light shone into the almost dark room through a small window and a table he had been leanin
Robert gulped down what was his ninth shot of tequila, his face crumpled tight as he downed another one almost immediately. He let out a huff at the effect the alcohol was beginning to have on him and yet again, poured himself another shot. This seemed like the only remedy for all the different emotions he was feeling at the moment. After he’d left George Brown’s confinement, he’d gone to the bar, not stopping for any pleasantries with the lot who greeted him. He’d finally ‘taken care’ of the man behind Mary’s death, or at least, the executioner. He was supposed to feel some kind of relief right? But he didn’t feel anything, except more anger, more hatred, more emptiness, more pain. At some point, he doubted doing the exact same thing he did to George to Simon Tunes would make him feel any better. It was as if realisation dawned on him all over again: Mary wasn’t coming back. Even if he took care of all the people that might have ev
The still air, coupled with the early sunset and the sudden bloom in Robert’s garden, would be Theresa’s description of a perfect weathered Saturday morning as another season of the year was slowly beginning to creep in. She started the day by assisting Margaret who was doing a clean up of the house. Oh boy, her work was not easy. Margaret on the otherhand, was very appreciative of Theresa’s help and promised to make her something special for lunch as a thank you gesture to which Theresa feigned a squeal. She’d rather not have Margaret stressing about some special lunch. After a week of living in Robert’s house, she eventually decided to tour herself. This time, paying attention to all the details of the rooms. Turns out, rich people have a room for everything. The one place she found especially peaceful was the library. Margaret had told her the attic room was the library but she ha
Pool? She shook her head in refutation. “I can’t play pool.” A broad smile appeared on his face leaving Theresa in wonder. “I’ll teach you,” he said determinately, rather comfortable with the fact she couldn’t play. Without any further opportunity for a protest, he gently tugged at her hand and she followed him into the game room. The large pool table stood in the middle of the room so, he only brought out the clip art arranging the balls in it, before removing it and tossing it to one side. “Ready?” he asked, giving her one of the pool sticks. Not really. What exactly was she ready to do? She recalled she’d seen people play the game on TV, they’d use the sticks to push the balls into the holes. But that was just about it. That was all she knew. “So, I’d just put the balls in those holes with this?” she inquired waving the stick and p
Sam let out a rile sigh. Why now? Charles was the manager of the auto mechanic garage who took appropriate care of anything and everything that goes wrong in their cars. After he had put a few calls through to him the day before, Charles claimed his schedule was occupied for the next two days but promised to come by the weekend. Yesterday he had expected him, he didn’t show up and today, when he had forgotten he even sent for him, he shows up. Just when he was in the middle of something. He groaned out, exchanging looks with Theresa whose cheek had become pink. It was apparent she was embarrassed Margaret had caught them making out. Something he couldn’t care less about. A cheeky smile tugged at his lips as he watched her button her shirt all the way to the top. And he gave her a ‘this isn’t over’ look before following Margaret down to the living room where Charles sat patiently, awaiting him. “Charles.” He called unethusiastically o
A month later... Sam was in the agency going through the just printed Cloud newspaper for the next day. He had taken over as the director at the agency and still managed to keep up with his work as the head Publicist despite Margaret's advice to promote one of the publicist in the agency or employ a new one to relieve himself of that much work. He would always tell her that he'll take it into consideration, but in the end, he would do nothing about it. He used work to cloud his thoughts from everything that had occured in the past month. And well, it somehow helped. He was working late again when his phone rang. Without glancing to see the call ID, he reached for the phone in the drawer, from where he had dumped it earlier and placed the phone on his ear, cradling it between his chin and shoulder as he waited for the caller to speak. "Goo
Sam looked up from the monitor to see his assistant come in with a latte in hand and a news paper in the other. "Here is today's Cloud newspaper sir," she said, leaving it on the desk, as well as the decaf latte. She flipped open her notepad and began to read out his schedule for the day. ". . . and you have a lunch meeting with Louise Sanders at two to discuss the publication of the last book in her trilogy," she finished, hooking the pen to the notepad. Sam nodded. "I'll speak with Louise Sanders in the early hours of the evening. So, postpone the interview till then." She nodded and quickly scribbled it down on the notepad. "Anything else?" "No," he answered. "Thank you, Emilia." And she exited the office. He sighed. He has been awaiting that lat
Then, her face rested on the ‘distraction’ in front of her. After last Saturday, she’d done well to avoid any conversation pertaining to what had happened. And thank goodness, Sam hadn’t brought it up. They were fine, things were great between them. When Margaret had confronted her about it, whilst they were watering the flowers in the garden, Theresa couldn’t hide the colour that formed on her face as she recalled how his mouth devouring hers hungrily and Sam, pinning her hand to the back, taking charge of that situation right then. Unfailingly, Margaret noticed this. But she resigned to just seat on the sidelines and watch how things evolve. Maybe this time, Theresa would get a strong hold of Sam and he wouldn’t bolt like always. His eyes glinted as he smiled at her, before walking into her office, while Theresa closed the door behind him. “Where were you off to just now?” Sam asked, leaning into her desk.
Sam was still leaning on her desk, smiling to himself. He glanced at his wrist watch. Since she left now, it wouldn’t take her more than fifteen minutes to get to the city’s capital. At most, twenty if there’s any hitch on the road. He tucked his hands into his pocket, standing upright. He wandered to the window side and drew back the curtain. Quick enough to see her board a cab. As usual, she had gone with a photographer. He smiled to himself again, recalling the first time he heard her name in the house. It was that Saturday after the award show. He overheard Robert informing Margaret that he’ll be expecting a guest that morning, by name, Theresa Gray. Something had come up with the Cloud papers that morning so he had rushed out to the agency before she arrived. Well, it would have been a shame if he hadn’t been around to see her in the house and she didn’t accept Robert’s contract and job offer. That would mean he probably wouldn’t have
As soon as Margaret hung up the phone, Theresa quickly draped her phone and wallet into her pockets stuff before dashing twoards the exit door. Vera had skewered a sketchy look on Theresa all the while she saw her eyes light up in excitement. Not knowing what was going, she equally chased after her. Theresa went over the news with her as she stood on the pedestrian walk waiting for a cab and she offered to give her a ride to the hospital before she ended up boarding a truck going towards that route. All through the fortunately swift and smooth ride, her heart danced in excitement; the feeling of joy pulsated through her veins. She had forgotten all about Maxwell Hart and his ridiculous antics. The only thought coursed through her mind was being in the arms of Sam again.In about half an hour, they arrived at the hospital. Without waiting for Vera to pull the gear of the car back to park, she rushed out of the car and into the hospital, not even thinking about signing it
By the time Theresa got to the hospital, it was less than thirty minutes to the close of vABy the time Theresa arrived at the hospital, it was less than an hour left to the close of visiting hours. When Magaret saw her coming through the hallway, she stood and walked up to her. The stress wrinkles on Theresa’s forehead were very evident and she looked pale, almost like all the blood in her face had drained down to her body.“What happened? You were gone the entire day.” She asked on reaching Theresa. The pair pulled each other into a brief, warm hug.Not wanting to add to the worries of the woman, Theresa lied. “It’s nothing serious. Just stuff with my Mom.”“Is she alright? Is she in the City?”“What?” She didn’t realize that could backfire and she had no response for those questions. Theresa’s hands traveled to her nape as she quickly thought of yet a
“Excuse me?”Theresa was stupefied, simply put. Sure, she knew the drill with detectives having, unfortunately, some may say, gotten acquainted with Detective Vera but this puffed up man in this ridiculously funny suspenders was way out of line, she thought. How on earth was he even thinking along that line? Felony? For what? Accessory to murder? To whom? A wanted man by the law. Maxwell Hart said it himself, he is a wanted man by the police in virtually all districts in New Havens. Why in heaven’s name would she, knowing very well that any connection with such a person spells doom for her? Plus, didn’t he hear what happened? Didn’t this man know she hated everything about Simon Tunes, even more that they are related?“I beg to differ, Mr. Hart and I mean no offense when I say this is highly unreasonable for a man in your position,” Theresa stated matter of factly, trying to maintain her cool despite t
Great! Just great! After the while she had waited to see Sam, it had to be made impossible by these cops and their dumb intuitions. How on Earth does Maxwell Hart thinks she is working with Simon Tunes willingly to see he evades the police? It sounded so irrational and she was surprised it didn't as much, to him. "You really do take the joy out of my life, you know?" Theresa grumbled as she made her way to the police car parked in the hospital parking lot. She looked at her in a frown. "That's not a compliment." "Of course it's not!" Vera opened the doors and Theresa hopped into the car which scented like burgers and fries. Not hard to perceive seeing the couple of burgers packs and half filled milkshake. The detective wind down the vent glass. "I apologise for the mess. I've got to keep my mouth busy during patrols." "Wow. You do patrols now?" Vera passed her a stifled smile. "Not for long." Theresa rolled her eyes to this. She turned
Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us invited to the award show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room as the biggest writers and Publicist in the city and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were all something in between raggedy and well enough and those weren’t good enough for the award show. I sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of documents for my new colleagues
Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us an invite to the Writhe of Writers Awards show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room with the biggest writers and Publicists in the city, and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were both something in between raggedy and well enough; those weren’t good enough for the award showI sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of docu
Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us an invite to the Writhe of Writers Awards show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room with the biggest writers and Publicists in the city, and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were both something in between raggedy and well enough; those weren’t good enough for the award showI sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of docu
Point of view — Robert JohnsonI huffed out after Mr. Jill’s angry stomp away. He was to going to be even angrier when I have to bargain with him on Thursday, to extend the deadline. I didn’t think it was going to be a problem because, well, it was never. So, I waved off his threats. It was nothing new.I took the remaining stairs to the seventh floor, lucky me. For the past week or so, the elevators has been out of order. Heaven knows what went wrong with it, but something did and it had suddenly stopped functioning. A lot of people has been on the management to fix it but nothing. Some of us, especially the occupants of the first few floors, had taken the piss and gotten used to making that walk through the staircase everyday. But for those whose apartment was situated on the tenth floor, thirteenth floor, they were never going to stop complaining, rightly so.As I approached the last stairs, I noticed Samantha, the daughter of a couple
Point of View — Robert Johnson.The name resonated so well with me, not because he was going to be my supposed boss, but strictly because he had made it as clear as mud, on not one but multiple occasions that his daughter is and will never be with a “low life” like me. It was one thing that he knew an interest, from my end had sufficed for his daughter. And it was another thing entirely that I had pursued that interest and dare I say, I had won her over.How did I not know that I was applying for a job to a media agency owned by him? No. Of course I didn’t. I would stay as far away from him as possible considering he had only to snap his finger and my entire life could go down the drain. Was it bizarre that I wanted to be like that? To snap my fingers and command circumstance? Effect changes? Control associations? Okay, not the last one. I could never. But still, it’ll be nice to know I could.Back to the job situation, I had looked