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Chapter Twenty-four
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Robert stormed into the agency, making his way to Theresa’s office in quick purposeful steps. Her head immediately snapped sideways when he burst into her office with a scowl on his face and she wondered what had put him in an upsetting mood early this morning. “Good morning Mr. Johnson,” she greeted, getting up from the seat. He didn’t answer and just threw the file he had in hand to her desk and she picked it up to read. It was the contract concerning his biography. And from the look of things, quite a number of changes had been made. “Oh no–“ she had begun to protest when Robert cut her off.
“Margaret told me you were burgled.”
She was about to open her mouth and speak but Sam’s frenzy cut her. “Burgled?” he exclaimed in shock. He was just outside her office when he heard Robert say. “When?”
“Last night. Apparently, she told Margaret to keep shut about it,” Robert answered, shaking his head.
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“I’d welcome you but you’re no stranger here,” he said, reaching for her bags which she handed to him. “Well, a welcome celebration sounds nice.” “Oh yeah? Then I’ll see you in the pool,” he said with a wry grin. Theresa swallowed. “Pool?” Sam gave the bag to Alfie who took it upstair, to the guest room. “Yes,” Sam turned to her. “A pool party. Just you and I. You know, with champagne and Whitney Houston songs,” he articulated detailedly, Theresa was sure her heart fell to her stomach. “If I hadn’t known better, I’d say you were asking me to a date.” He threw his head back in laughter, emmitting sniggers afterwards. “You might just be right Theresa.” Just then, Margaret emerged from down the stairs beaming. She was obviously excited she’d have a ‘gist buddy’ again, since Mary. “Oh
Wrenched Chapter Twenty-six
Four days had gone by since she moved into the Johnson’s house and so far, she’s been enjoying her stay: courtesy of Margaret. The only ‘difficulty’ she presumed she’d encounter: Sam, had barely been around in the past days as he had attended a board meeting, alongside Robert in the outskirts of the city and they’d only just came home yesterday. Sam devoured his pancakes and citrus juice in delight. If there’s anything he had missed more than seeing Theresa’s face, it would be Margaret’s cooking. Due to the location of the meeting, the only good hotel’s in the area had been booked. So, he had to stay at a motel and the breakfast that was served made him nauseous. Thank goodness that was over. Theresa on the other hand, enjoyed the luxury of Margaret’s cooking, especially grateful that she didn’t have to eat peanut butter sandwich every morning for breakfast. She emerged from up the stairs in a black and white s
Wrenched Chapter Twenty-seven
He hit it again. Nothing. With so much force this time, he pushed it down with his feet. No action. Nothing! The car didn’t stop and just kept moving up the bridge. Immediately, his head swerved sideways to see Theresa who looked very worried as she watched him hit the brake pedal endlessly. He was beginning to lose control of the car but he tried so desperately to work the steering wheel. With one hand, he unbuckled her seat belt and unlocked the doors with the buttons on his side. Surprisingly, he feared for her more than himself. Theresa’s breathing had become heavy and fast as she watched the car go straight, up the bridge. He noticed this and tried to bring her to calm and listen to him, amidst controlling the car that was moving with so much speed already. “Theresa, Look at me!” he called loudly. And she turned to him, her breathing still heavy and fast. She had placed a hand over her c
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The next day came by much slower than she had anticipated. A part of her dreaded that the detective might have just been right about Robert all along.After she hung up the cell yesterday, she couldn't concentrate on anything other than what Veronica had said. As much she tried to get it off her head, that was all she thought about the night before.Even when Sam called to check on her, she seemed 'off' as he had described to Margaret when he asked after Theresa was fine. Her replies were monotonous which frustrated him but all the more, worried him, he itched to drive back immediately just to see her.She was in a cab, subconscious of anything and everything happening around her and hadn't realized that they had been in a particular spot for the last ten minutes. The driver even turned off the ignition and was half asleep, sweating profusely.Theresa snapped back to reality when the woman wheeling the car behind them kept honkin
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Robert had just finished conversing with Sam over the phone, who narrated the details of the incident. He had informed him of all the middle aged cop said about ‘someone’ sabotaging his car which led Robert to think back to the note he had received in his mail weeks ago. Could this be related to the bloody note he had received in his mail? The note which read, ‘They’re next’? He stood by the window in his office, gazing into nothingness as he recalled the words of Simon Tunes thirty years ago. It was odd that everything had suddenly began to go awry at the same period, thirty years ago, Simon Tunes was imprisoned for killing his step brother who was also Robert’s best friend. “When I get out, you must suffer ten times what I will,” were the exact words of the bloodshot Simon when the police cuffed him and took him away. Add to the list of unsolved mysteries in his head was the identity of George Brown and why on earth he killed his wife. Simon Tunes
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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“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
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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
Wrenched 31
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
Wrenched 30
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
Wrenched 29
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
Wrenched 28
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
Wrenched 27
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
