Dogged Ma: Chapter four, part two

Chapter Four, Part Two

“Girl, you are so working that dress,” Ned said, snapping his fingers as he looked me up and down.  “I swear I must be gay because even the sight of you looking so luscious isn’t enough to get me hard.”

“Thanks, I think,” I said as I locked the door behind me.  “You look pretty hot yourself.”  He was wearing a custom-made tux which fit him perfectly.  His tie and cummerbund were silver, which I liked better than black.  “So, what have you decided?”

It turned out that he hadn’t, so we had to hash out the pros and cons the whole way to his parents’ house.  I suggested that we say he jumped the gun a little bit because he’d been thinking of proposing, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.  Then I could say that I was the one who’d turned him down, therefore saving face for his parents in front of their guests.  Ned didn’t want to make me the bad guy, however, as it was his fault we were in this mess.  I didn’t mind taking the rap if it would make things easier for him.  He was determined to tell his parents the truth, but couldn’t decide if it was better before or after the get-together.  It was hard to say because either way, he was fucked.  Either way, his parents lost face.  We reluctantly agreed that the best thing to do was to go through with the party and tell his parents after.  Then they could tell their friends I’d dumped him or some such nonsense.

“You’re the best,” Ned said, squeezing my hand.  “That’s for you.”  He waved vaguely in the direction of the backseat, and I carefully undid my seatbelt so I could grab the package.  I turned back around and buckled up for safety—not that I really needed to—before opening the nicely-wrapped gift.  Inside was a Hermes scarf that was a luscious blend of silver and plum.

“Oh, Ned, it’s beautiful,” I sighed, holding it up to my neck and admiring myself in the mirror in my visor.  It didn’t match my dress so I didn’t put it on, but I mentally planned my outfit for Monday to include some purple so I could wear the scarf.  On second thought, scratch that.  It was too high-toned for where I worked.  “Why can’t straight men have your sense of fashion?”  I mourned, carefully packing the scarf away and stowing it under my seat.  “It’s just not fair.”

“We’re here,” Ned said tersely, both hands gripping the wheel.  I patted him on the knee to calm him down, but I didn’t think it helped.  He parked the car and rooted through his pocket, bringing out a small box.  “Put this on.”  He opened it, and a diamond ring sparkled within the box.  I gasped because I’d never seen a rock that big—except for on his mother’s hand, of course.

“Ned, you didn’t buy that, did you?”  I couldn’t even touch it for fear I’d break it or something.

“No, it’s my grandmother’s.  My mother gave it to me to give to you.”  Ned slipped the ring onto my third finger, and it fit me perfectly.  I couldn’t take my eyes off it; it was so shiny.  “I guess we have to go in.”  He walked around to my side of the car where I was ready and waiting.

“You’ll be fine,” I said softly as Ned helped me out of the car.  I normally didn’t go in for that girly shit, but something about wearing a formal dress brought out the genteel in me.  Not to mention a rock the size of Gibraltar. “You have God on your side, remember?”  Ned smiled wanly as he offered me his arm.  The ring on my finger felt heavy, though I knew it was just my imagination.  I wouldn’t breathe easily until I gave the ring back to Ned, which would be at the end of the evening, hopefully.

“Darling!  You look beautiful!”  Mrs. Chang air-kissed me, critically checking out my outfit.  She was a tall, languid woman with jet-black hair that came from a bottle these days.  It was pulled up in a severe chignon, and she was wearing a black dress that looked like a Vera Wang.  Knowing her, it was.  Big diamonds glittered from her neck and ears, as well as her wrists and fingers.  She was attractive only because she had the money to achieve a certain style.  “Edward, you look so handsome as well.”  Mrs. Chang fussed with Ned’s bow tie, though he had tied it perfectly.

“Margaret, so good to see you,” Mr. Chang boomed, engulfing me in a warm hug.  He was a good-looking man, also over six-feet tall.  It was easy to see where Ned had gotten his looks from.  Mr. Chang’s hand strayed south of the border for a nanosecond.  I still couldn’t get over this highly-religious man copping a feel every time he saw me, but I wasn’t going to make a fuss this time around.  There were more important things to think about, namely how to break it to Ned’s parents that he was gay.

“The ring looks perfect on your finger,” Mrs. Chang cooed, holding my hand up to the light.  “My mother would have been so happy.”  A tear showed up in the corner of her surgically-enhanced eye, but it didn’t dare fall.  “You two make such a striking couple.”

“It’s about time you two got married.  You’re getting on in years, Margaret.  You and Edward will want to start having children right away.  You’ll have them baptized at the Taiwanese church, of course.”  Mr. Chang still had his hand on my back as he guided me towards the living room.  I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t say something inflammatory, such as that I was already pregnant with a child who needed no blessing.  Mr. Chang brought out the worst in me, and we’d had quite the rows in the past.  However, I kept repeating my mantra that nothing mattered except getting Ned through the night, and I was able to ignore Mr. Chang’s blathering.

“I was thinking of rose and ivory for your colors,” Mrs. Chang said to me, swooping on me from the other side.  Mr. Chang dropped back, presumably to exhort Ned to do his manly duty and procreate.  “I think you would look lovely in ivory.  We Asians have the perfect skin tone for it.  I know Vera Wang personally, and I think I could get her to whip up an original for you.  Wouldn’t that be grand?  What color do you think your mother will be wearing so I don’t clash with her?  She would look stunning in a dark blue whereas I look my best in black.  Oh, I know it’s considered taboo in some circles to wear black to a wedding, but it’s so slimming.”  She was skeletal, but that wasn’t the point, I guess.  I didn’t contribute to the conversation because I was having a difficult time not gagging.

“Tell them now,” a voice boomed in my head.  “Don’t let this farce go on any longer.”

Continue Reading

Dogged Ma: Chapter four, part one

Chapter Four, Part One

“Margaret—earth to Margaret!  Where did you go?”  I snapped back to earth to find my friend, Jenna, staring expectantly at me.  My two other friends, Belinda and Caryn, were staring as well.  I had lunch with them one Saturday a month, and this was it.  I hadn’t wanted to go, but I knew I’d catch serious hell from them if I didn’t.  We’d been friends since college, but maybe it was time to loosen the apron strings.  I didn’t find them nearly as entertaining as I had when we were in school.  It had been two weeks since I found out I was pregnant, and I hadn’t heard from the Father in nearly a week.

“Honestly, Mags, you were a million light-years away.”  Belinda looked at me from under her lashes, fluffing her blond curls with her other hand.  She was the stunner of the group with her Barbie-doll figure and plump, full lips, and she knew it.  So even though she was ostensibly talking to me, she was playing to the table of appreciative yuppies who were ogling her quite openly.  Ah, the refined crowd of TGIF—what could possibly be better?  It hadn’t been my choice to come here, but I had been outvoted three to one.

“Girl, you’ve been out of it all day.  Spill.”  Jenna snapped her fingers at me.  She was the ‘hip’ one with her mod cut and Macy clothes.  Too bad her features were equine-like, similar to those of Princess Anne.  Or was it Margaret?  Whichever was the horsey-one.  Still, it didn’t stop her from getting laid which went to show that if you had a great bod and money, you only needed a passable face.

“There must be a new man in your life,” Caryn said, nodding her head knowingly.  She was Asian like me, but Japanese rather than Taiwanese.  I didn’t hold her tiny figure against her as she didn’t act like your typical Japanese American Princess.  She was tough as nails, and she had a black belt in taekwondo.  Any guy who thought he could mess with her usually ended up with a black eye or crushed testicles.

“No,” I said, sipping at my margarita.  Damned if I was going to give up alcohol before it was strictly necessary.  “I just, uh, it’s a work thing.  One of my kids is in trouble.  You know, the usual.”  I sent a silent apology to my students who’d been unusually good this past week.  My slander meant that one of them would be out of control this week; I was resigned to it.

“Uh, huh.”  Belinda nodded her head, cutting her eyes to the yuppies who were still eyeing her.  “I’m with Caryn.  There’s a boy involved.  Who is he?”  The three of them turned their attention to me, which was a bit disconcerting.

I hadn’t told them about being pregnant yet because what the fuck could I say?  The Lord, our Father, decided that I should be the next Mother of God?  Oh, and it’s a girl, but He promised not to kill her this time around?  It sounded crazy to my ears, and I’d met Him, so I knew they wouldn’t believe me.  I half-expected God to come down out of the sky as was His wont, but He didn’t.  Briefly, I wondered what’d happened to Him, but I had more important things to consider.  Like what to tell the three stooges looking at me so avidly.  I knew that nothing less than an epic romance would satisfy this trio, but I didn’t want to lie.  I felt as if I had no choice, however, so I gave it the old college try.

Continue Reading

Dogged Ma: Chapter three, part two

Chapter Three, Part Two

“What are you going to tell people?”  Ned asked, wisely dropping the argument.  He knew that I was stubborn and contrary.  The more he argued, the more I would dig in my heels and hiss at him.  “I mean, you can’t tell people that you’re carrying the next savior, can you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, suddenly struck by the enormity of the situation.  What was I going to tell people?  Obviously, I’d have to tell them I was pregnant, but I’d have to come up with a cover story, wouldn’t I?  No way in hell was I going to tell anybody that I was the Mother of God before it was necessary.  I liked my freedom, thank you very much, and I didn’t relish the thought of giving it up voluntarily.  More to the point, what was I going to tell my mother?  Oh, God.  She wanted me to have kids, but not out of wedlock.  Shit.  God wasn’t planning on making me marry someone, was He?

“No, I’m not,” God thundered in my brain.  I winced at the volume and silently asked Him to turn it down.  “Sorry.  Zeke is yakking my ear off so I can’t tell how loudly I’m talking.”  Zeke?  Talking up a storm.  This I had to see.  No, I didn’t.  I shuddered at the thought of a garrulous Zeke.  “I want you to be a single mother.  It’s part of the plan.”

“You’ve gone nuts, Lord,” I said silently.  Ned and Wind were talking a mile a minute and had no idea that I was having my own private conversation.  “What else are You going to burden this child with?  You are trying to kill her, aren’t You?”

“No, I’m not.  I just need the world to stand up and take notice.  You people need to see reason—only something drastic will do.  Oops.  I must go.  Zeke and I need to talk over a few details about the Ukraine.  For the record, I was never on Bush’s side, and he was an idiot for trusting Putin.  You tell him that if you ever meet him.  Oh, and tell him he’s a horrible painter, too.”

“Yeah, right.”  I felt God leave me, which still jolted me.  I tuned back into the conversation going on between Ned and Wind.  Predictably, they were arguing about God.  As I had had just about enough of God, I tuned them out and ate my eggs which were getting cold.  I gulped down my milk, then refilled my glass.  Suddenly, I had a craving for chocolate so I took two truffles out of the fridge and brought them into the living room.  Ned and Wind broke off their conversation to turn and stare at me.

“What?  I’m craving chocolate.  I am eating for two now, you know.”  That was going to be one of the only perks about this whole mess—I got to eat as much as I wanted.

“It’s not good for the baby,” Wind said, voicing her disapproval.  “Too much caffeine.”

“I hate to break it to you, Wind, but it doesn’t matter with this child.”  I patted my stomach as if there was something really there.  “God said I could smoke and drink as much as I wanted, so I presume that means I can eat as much chocolate as I want as well.  I better, or I’m going to be one big, bad bitch from now until this baby is born.”

“Did She really say that?”  Wind asked dubiously.

“Yes, I did,” God boomed down, this time audible to all of us.

“Will You quit that?”  I shrieked, my nerves on edge.  “I can’t take You dropping in like that!  Please!”

Continue Reading

Dogged Ma: Chapter three, part one

Chapter Three, Part One

“Girl, you better open up this door.”  Ned was pounding on my door, and he sounded upset.  How the hell did he get in my apartment building?  Some yahoo must have let him in.  All he’d have to do was smile and bat his eyelashes, and there wasn’t a single person—male or female—who could resist him.  It was the Saturday after God had made His little visit—if it was, indeed, Him—and I was in a funk.  I hadn’t answered any calls from my friends for the past three days, which was unlike me.

“Margaret!  We need to see if you’re still breathing.”  It was Wind, which meant she and Ned had talked about me.  Wind’s real name was Wendy Greenwood, but she preferred Wind in accordance with her favorite element of nature.  Well, she had a key.  She could use it if she really wanted.  Come to think of it, Ned had one as well, but it probably wasn’t on his key chain.  Wind had about a zillion keys on her key ring, so I bet mine was there, too.  I shook my head impatiently.  What the fuck was I doing ruminating about keys?  Even though it was one in the afternoon, I was still in bed.  I had managed to make it through the week at work, but I fell into bed the minute I came home last night and only got up to go to the bathroom and eat a bit.  Otherwise, I’d spent the last eighteen hours or so in bed.  I couldn’t stand what God had done to me, and I wasn’t handling it well at all.

“Girl, use your key.  I left my copy at home.  I didn’t think she wouldn’t let us in.”  That was my boy, using his head, damn him.  Sooner than I’d like, they were bursting into my bedroom.

“Margaret, what are you still doing in bed?  You’re ruining your biorhythms.”  That was Wind, coming out with something New-Agey.  She was six-feet tall in her stocking feet with a slimness stemming from being vegan.  Her flaming red hair and luminous green eyes were nicely set off by her delicate white skin.  She dressed in typical hippie fashion with tons of scarves and long, flowing skirts.  Despite her loopy appearance and somewhat eccentric beliefs, she was a dear friend.

“Girl, you need to get out of this apartment.”  Ned snapped his fingers, his dark eyes intense.  “You look as if you’ve been brooding, and you know how that goes to your head.”  Not for the first time, I wondered why Ned couldn’t be at least bi.  He was even taller than Wind, and I liked my men tall.  And buff.  And good enough to eat.  And Asian.

“What’s wrong, Margaret?”  Wind asked, her brow furrowed.  “Your aura is very dark right now.  But…I sense vigorous life inside of you.”  Her eyes widened.  “Are you pregnant?”  Did I mention she was a touch psychic?  “Oh, you are!  Who’s the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, turning away from them and burrowing under my blankets.  How could I tell them the truth without sounding like I was headed for the loony bin?  Granted, Wind was into all things Wiccan, and Ned was a devout Christian, but this was something out of the ordinary, even for them.  I still couldn’t believe it, so how could they?  Ned was Christian, but how would he react to me as the next Mother of God?  Wind didn’t even believe in God, so there’s no way she would understand.

Continue Reading

Dogged Ma: Chapter two

Chapter Two 

“Ahhh, that feels good.”  I dropped into my tub, thankful for the overflow of bubbles.  I had just come home from working out, and I always treated myself to a bubble bath right after.  It was my reward for working hard, and it was all that got me through the last ten minutes of my workouts.  I closed my eyes, luxuriating.

“Ahem.”  Someone cleared his throat—it was definitely a him—and my eyes flew open in terror.  Standing before me was a man of slight build, but incredibly tall.  He had white-blond hair which flowed down his back and really light blue eyes which were almost white.  He was dressed in a white Armani suit which fit as if it’d been made for him.  If it was an Armani, then it probably was made especially for him.  He looked vaguely like Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, but dressed in white.  I blinked twice, sure that I was hallucinating.  When I realized I wasn’t, I screamed.

“Who the fuck are you?  How the fuck did you get in my bathroom?”  I felt horribly vulnerable being naked in a bathtub with a stranger standing over me.  Granted, I was covered in bubbles, but that didn’t bring me much comfort.  Why the hell hadn’t I brought my cell phone in here as I normally did?  Because I wanted fucking privacy, that’s why.  Never again, damn it.  As these thoughts ran through my head, the man said nothing.  So I tried again.  “Answer me, you sick son of a bitch.  Who the fuck are you?”  I wanted to threaten him, but it was useless.  Anything I said would be an obvious bluff, so I waited to see what he’d do.  Or say.  I wasn’t too picky at this point.

“You’re not going to believe this,” the man said in a low voice.  There was something odd about it.  It didn’t sound quite human, but I couldn’t pinpoint the reason.  “So do me the favor of shutting up while I tell you a little story, ok?”

“As if I have a fucking choice.  How the fuck did you get in here, anyway?”  I racked my brains to remember if I’d locked the door, but I couldn’t recall.  I forgot once in a while, so perhaps it was my fault this lunatic was in my bathroom.  There was a buzzer at the front door, but it was easy enough to con someone into opening the door.  As this man made no move towards me, and I couldn’t do anything else, I resigned myself to hearing what the fucker had to say.

“I am here on a mission.  You are an important part of that mission.  You have no choice in the mission, but I would like you to be willing.”  The man enunciated the words as if he’d grown up watching BBC, though no trace of a British accent was to be found.  Oh, Lord.  I had a crazy on my hands.  I just prayed he wouldn’t rape me or kill me.  Or torture me.  Or make me watch Lifetime movies.  I’d give him all the cash in my house if he would just—

“I don’t want your money,” the man said impatiently, his eyes flashing.  Strange, they turned a dark blue as they flashed before reverting to almost white when they were still.

“Huh?”  I must have said it out loud, though I could have sworn I’d only said it in my head.

“Ok, there isn’t any way to ease into this, so I’m just going to be blunt with you.”  The man paused, looking as if he wished for all the world that he could smoke a cigarette.  I almost offered him one, but something in his face told me he would find the offer objectionable.  “I am God.  You are the chosen one.  I have waited many eons for you, and now, here you are.”  He paused, waiting for a response.  I stared at him, convinced that he was out of his mind.  It took a couple of seconds for what he’d said to sink into my mind, but when it did, I burst out laughing.  I wasn’t scared any more—just confused.

“You’re from one of those reality shows, aren’t you?  Like Punk’d or something like that.  Is Ashton Kutcher hiding outside the door?  You almost had me there.  Me, the chosen one.  Ha, ha, ha.  Very funny.  Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”  I closed my eyes and leaned back.  Ok, not the best move with a stranger in my bathroom, but I was exhausted after an especially grueling workout with my merciless trainer, Katya.  Katya was from the former Soviet Union, and she didn’t know the meaning of the word pain.  Or stop, either, for that matter.  Or mercy—

“Margaret, I’m serious.”  The use of my name caught me, and I opened my eyes again.  “Look, I’ll go into your living room so you can get out and put some clothes on.  Then we’ll talk.”  He disappeared before I could say anything, not that I would have because I didn’t know what the fuck to say.  How the hell did this nutjob know who I was?  I slowly got out of the tub, wrapping my robe around me.  I hurried to my bedroom to put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.  I wanted to look unattractive as possible in case this guy was going to try to pounce on me.  Granted, it would have been easier for him to make a move while I was in the tub, but you never knew.  I grabbed my cell phone while I was at it, just in case I had to call 9-1-1.  I took a deep breath and walked out into the living room where the guy was lounging on my couch.  He turned to look at me as I entered.  I tried to determine his age, but he was ageless.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the other end of the couch.  The nerve!  Inviting me to sit on my own couch!  Just to be ornery, I sat in the hard-backed chair facing him.

Continue Reading

Dogged Ma: Chapter one

Chapter One

“Shit,” I exclaimed, hastily stubbing out my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray by my bed.  I didn’t smoke very often, but when I did, I usually finished half a pack to a pack in a few hours.  I glanced at my bed, disgruntled to find my girl toy for the night still slumbering there.  I needed to get rid of her as my very-Christian, old-country mother was coming over this afternoon for another chance to lecture me about being unmarried at age thirty-two.  I got up and stretched, pleasurably aware of the ache in my body.  The girl toy had been a hellcat in bed, which pleasantly surprised me because she was one of those hippie-dippy types.  If I hadn’t been drunk out of my mind and horny as hell, I would never have taken her home.  It’s a good thing to be desperate once in a while, I guess, but I didn’t want to make a habit of it.

“Hey,” the girl toy smiled, licking her lips.  Apparently, she’d awakened while I’d been ruminating about how to throw her out.  “Ready for round two?”  She reached her arms to me, allowing the sheets to slip from her full breasts.  I felt a jump in my stomach that told me I was, indeed, ready to go again.  However, I make it a policy never to fuck a toy two days in a row.  In fact, I preferred they didn’t spend the night, but I’d pretty much passed out after we’d fucked, so I hadn’t been able to kick her out last night.  I really should have, however, as the girls tended to cling if they thought there was any hope for a relationship.  As I had just ended a long-term relationship with my boyfriend of five years, I didn’t need complications.

“Sorry.  You gotta go.”  I wrapped my robe around my body, firmly tying the sash to underline my point.  “It’s been nice and all, but….”  I looked pointedly at the clock on the nightstand, hoping it would be enough to get her ass out of my bed.  Instead, she snuggled against my goose feather-filled pillows and simply smiled.  She didn’t bother covering her breasts which was how I knew she was still in the mood to play.  My desire for her was waning as I didn’t like coyness.  If I said I didn’t want more sex, then that was that.  I didn’t want some minx trying to cajole me or change my mind; she was starting to irritate me.

“Come on, Margaret,” she pouted, pushing out her lower lip.  What the fuck was she doing?  She was supposed to be the Earth Mother type, not the flirting coquette.  I really must stop picking up toys after a night of heavy drinking.  “I want to play some more.”  She threw the covers off her so I could see her admittedly lush naked body.  She had the figure of a Reuben woman, with the wide hips people liked to call ‘birthing hips’.  What was her name? Cammie?  Candy?  Something like that.

“Look, sweets,” I say, flexing my biceps ever so slightly.  I work out religiously, not wanting to be mistaken for a punk.  I also stretch daily to increase my flexibility.  “It’s time for you to go.  Don’t make a scene, ok?”

“I want to stay,” she said, her lower lip trembling slightly.  Ah, hell.  That’s what I get for going after the young ones.  This one was over twenty-one, but just barely.  I gotta toss the chickens back to the dogs, for sure.  What the hell was her name?  “I thought you liked me.  You’re the first woman I’ve been with.”  Well, shit.  If I had known she was a dyke virgin, I would never have brought her home.  I didn’t do newbies out of self-protection.  They either turn out clingy like this one or they freak out at doing something immoral.  I kinda wished this girl would be one of the latter so she’d flee on her own.  Carrie!  That’s her name.

“Carrie, baby,” I said, purposely sweetening my voice.  “You were great.  Really, but you just started swimming in the queer pool.  This is no time for you to latch on to one woman.  I mean, you didn’t go steady with the first boy you kissed, did you?”  I prayed she hadn’t.  “You need to know what’s out there before you settle down.”  I thought that was a pretty good rah-rah speech if I did say so myself, but it only succeeded in making the girl toy cry.

“My name is Carlie,” she wailed, her eyes scrunching shut.  “You can’t even remember my name!  I meant nothing to you.”  Shit, shit, shit.  My New Year’s Resolution was going to be that I never got drunk again.  Of course, it was only March which meant I had a quite a few months before I had to make the resolution, but good intentions counted for something, didn’t they?

“Carlie, see, that’s why I’m no good for you.  You need to find a woman who deserves you.”  I was developing a migraine, which I could ill-afford in facing my mother.  She was a human shark who scented any weakness and attacked with zest.  I vowed again never to get drunk and pick up a trick.  I never could handle my liquor, though it had nothing to do with being Asian.  I didn’t get the red cheeks; I just lost any inhibitions I had, which were few to begin with.  Before I could argue some more with Carrie, my cell phone rang.

“Yeah, what?”  I growled, not wanting to deal with whomever was on the other side of the wires.  However, I was constitutionally unable to not answer a ringing phone, so I was stuck.

Continue Reading

New story! Brief announcement

Hey, all! New week, new story. We finished Trip on This, and I’m still editing the sequel, so it’ll be a while before I start posting that. Instead, I’ll be posting chapters from Dogged Ma, a story I wrote quite a few years ago about a woman who is impregnated by God against her will. I updated it a bit a few years ago, but it’s pretty much the same as when i first wrote it. I got the idea after watching Dogma (RIP, Alan Rickman) and seeing how joyful Bethany was when she was informed that she was the Mother of God. I imagined my own reaction which would have been drastically different, and thus, this story was born.

Enjoy!

P.S. After watching this clip, I might have to watch Dogma again.

General housekeeping news

I have finished posting chapters from Trip on This, and I am currently deciding what I want to post next. I am editing the sequel I wrote to Trip on This, so I will post chapters of that in the near (or pretty near) future. In the meantime, I am taking today off, so there will be no post. Instead, celebrate Maru’s 11th birthday with a montage of several cute things he’s done in the past year.

Trip on This: Epilogue

Epilogue

In a rare occurrence, the sun is shining all across San Francisco.  There are throngs of reporters camped out in front of the mayor’s home, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam Davies’s family since they don’t have access to the man himself.  Television, newspaper, magazines.  Regional, local, national.  Patricia, Sam Jr., and Eddie have become prisoners in their own home.  They don’t dare to go out except to run to Safeway in the middle of the night, not even to attend school.  Patricia’s mother has moved in with the family to take care of her grandchildren.  None of them will speak to the media about what’s happened, not even to make the obligatory ‘no comment’ comment.

“In a stunning turn of events, the mayor has been arrested for the recent murders…”

“He’s charged with framing an innocent woman…”

“The mayor, his lawyer, several of his men, the chief of police, the editor-in-chief of the Chronicle have all been charged…”

“A kidnapping/pedophile ring…”

“The city is besides itself…”

“Special election…”

“Emergency election…”

“Photographs, documents, DVDs…”

“The mayor raped and murdered his own daughter five years ago…”

“His lawyer taped it…”

“Delilah Wire is completely exonerated…”

“Victim of a malicious plot…”

“I’d advise her to sue…”

San Franciscans are shocked by what’s being revealed on a daily basis.  They can’t believe that Sam Davies could have been involved in such heinous deeds.  Since the chief of police is involved as well as other cops and since it’s a federal case, the FBI have taken over.  No one trusts the SFPD to take care of the mess—a mess in which they had a hand in creating.  People aren’t talking about anything but the scandal on the streets of San Francisco.  The Republicans are quietly gloating, of course, but publicly, they restrain themselves.  Even the most ardent right-wingers, however, would never have wanted little girls to come to harm in order to further their cause.  People are shocked.  No one can quite believe the magnitude of the situation.  An evil like that should be able to be felt, to be seen, to be scented.  It’s beyond comprehension how the evil had been allowed to exist in their midst so peacefully for so many years.  They will continue to ponder this for a very long time.

Continue Reading

Trip on This: Chapter Sixteen (Part Two)

Chapter Sixteen (Part Two)

“Where the hell is he?”  Mowgli grumbles, his right leg bouncing up and down as he sits on the bed.

“He’s got ten minutes,” Trip reminds him, looking pointedly at her watch.  “Chill, Mowgli.  I’m going to check on our friend next door.”  She slips out of the room and enters next door where she left O’Reilly.  He is apparently sleeping or resting or dead.  “Hey, Caleb,” Trip says, poking O’Reilly’s bloodied temple with her finger.  “You still with us?”  His eyes fly open and dilate in terror.  There is a strong smell of urine and shit, and the skin around the makeshift gag in his mouth is chafed.  “Still with us, I see.”  Trip prods his temple again, and he flinches away from her.  “I’ll be back, big guy.”  Trip salutes O’Reilly, turns off the lights, and leave the room.  She isn’t worried about him being found because she’s left explicit instructions that the room not be entered during her stay.  A crisp hundred dollar bill had ensured that her request would be honored.  She goes back into the room where she’s to meet the mayor.

“Well?”  Mowgli is puffing on a cigarette, even though it’s a non-smoking room.  He ashes on the floor, not seeming to notice or care.

“He’s still with us,” Trip says, holding out her hand.  Mowgli hands over the cigarettes with reluctance.  “You don’t smoke,” Trip states, sliding a Camel out of the pack.

“I do now,” Mowgli says simply, sucking on his cigarette as if it were an oxygen tube.  Five minutes later, there is a knock on the door.

“Show time,” Trip says, stubbing out her cigarette in a glass.  She opens the door cautiously, making sure it’s just the mayor and Andretti; it is.  “Welcome, Mr. Mayor,” Trip says, gesturing the mayor to enter.  “DiCalvo,” she adds, staring hard at the man who is the cause of her misery.

“Andretti,” he corrects her nervously, his face already sweating.  “Lucien Andretti.”

“I believe you have something of mine,” Davies says coolly, looking at her in disdain.  He is taller and skinnier than he appears on television, well over six-feet with no spare fat to be seen.  His skin is the color of mahogany, and his black hair is streaked with gray, but neatly clipped.  It’s hard to see his eyes behind the Ray-Bans he’s wearing, but the best bet would be that they’re not smiling.  He is wearing a suit, and he looks around him in contempt as he steps into the room.

Continue Reading