FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #3

 

"I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work." The frantic man muttered as his fiancee opened the door to greet him. Still clasping the somewhat battered flowers, he slid down the doorjamb and collapsed to the tiled entryway floor.

 

"James, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling beside him, brushing his disheveled blond hair away from his sweaty brow. She held him next to her, feeling his whole body tremble, alarmed. "James, talk to me!" Through all his faults and idiosyncrasies, James was never the type to needlessly panic or dive into melodramatic dissertations. He was, after all, an accountant.

 

The man pursed his lips in a valiant attempt to form some comprehensible sentence. But his face wrestled his will and contorted into a repugnant, frozen gaze. The calm steady beat of her heart against his face soothed him enough to manage, "You know I love you, right?" 

 

"You're scaring me, James! What is it? What did you read?" she yelled. James gathered his thoughts as he slowly re-sequenced the events of the day in his mind before spelling it all out.

 

---

He picked up his double-mocha from Fat John's kiosk as he had done every other day on the way to the Michener & Williams Associates downtown office. Only this time his head pounded from last night's wining and dining of the latest potential client. The L was surprisingly punctual, allowing him just enough time to swim down the stream of commuters to find an open seat for the thirty-five minute trip. Balancing his coffee in one hand, he unwrapped the morning paper that he had managed to grab from his stoop on the way to the station.

 

Disinterested, he ignored the main headline about the latest Congressional scandal, gazed past the upheaval in North Korea, and abruptly halted at the teaser in the lower left corner of the Tribune. Woman Executive Raped & Murdered in the Drake Hotel the teaser read. On any other day this would've been just another extraneous headline on the way to the Money section where all the real stories of backstabbing and pillaging lurked. But not today. No, today's headline derailed his diurnal trek through the pages and redirected him to the often-ignored Chicagoland section.

 

As is often the case, James P. Sterling, along with his junior associates from the Western Region, played the good host to some high-profile clients the evening prior. And as is often the case, James P. Sterling took exceptional care of the token, albeit beautiful, female representative of the visiting entourage. And as is almost always the case, the inebriated Mr. Sterling barely managed to re-dress himself as he left her hotel room somewhere around 3 am, managing somehow to awaken from his stupor in his own bed hours later. Not even his over-sized, overpriced shot of caffeine triggered much recall from the night's events. But turning to that article and seeing her beautiful smile awakened his slumbering memory. As he read the article, the incredible reality of sadness and terror interrupted his breathing. The words blurred together as he continued.

 

... rising executive found strangled... DNA evidence from a sexual encounter... hotel security checking video-taped surveillance... wristwatch left behind... seen earlier in the night... police searching for alleged suspect... 

 

"You feeling alright?" an older black woman seated next to him asked.

 

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he muttered through labored breathing. James snapped the paper shut as he looked around, panicked and flighty.

 

"Then you may want to hold that up." James looked down to discover three-fourths of his mocha had oozed down his pants leg. The L had become suddenly crowded, encroaching upon his personal space as if a tourniquet had been wrapped around his neck. When the doors slid open at the Belmont station, he darted out nervously, pushing aside a mother with her young daughter. The transit security officer didn't even glance his way as he exited from the elevated platform, though James knew for sure he was being followed. He stumbled down the stairway several clumsy steps at a time, drawing the ire and angry words of a half-dozen commuters around him. A few blocks later, he ducked into the darker recess of an alley and leaned against a brick wall to stabilize himself amidst the spinning.

 

It wasn't me. I couldn't have. We just had a wild night of great sex then I went home. Right? There's no way. Oh God! How did I get home? Who saw me? Damn! Where's my Rolex? Oh my God! No way! I didn't do that- I couldn't have. Oh God! Even if I didn't, they'll never believe me. My fingerprints, my semen, my watch, the videotapes, oh God! On and on the thoughts ricocheted loudly. James doubled over, and pulling at his hair he threw up the granola bar from his power breakfast. There was no stopping the weeping as the world continued to spin him into asphyxiation. Thirty minutes later, he hoisted himself upright, still with no plan.

 

He debated his options- the best a fugitive possibly can- and decided to call the only cab company he would've used to make it home, sober or otherwise. Snagging the number from one of many of the passing cabs, he was transferred from one dispatcher to the next until finally reaching a unit supervisor. James, the quintessential liar, explained that he had lost his wallet last night and believed it to be in the cab that took him home. "Sir, we have no record of any of our cabs delivering to that address. Are you sure it wasn't a Flash Cab?" He nervously apologized and hung up, cursing as he kicked a nearby trash bin.

 

Oh God! I'm so stupid. The phone! They'll know exactly where I am! Come on, James! Think! He placed the phone on the ground, ready to stomp it to pieces. Then it struck him. If I put out the signal, they'll know I know I'm being watched. And they'll know exactly where I started my escape. No- I'm not giving them that. It's best if they don't know I'm being watched.

 

Instinctively, James headed to the corner newsstand where some obvious regulars waited in line to pay for their morning goods. An older lady, carelessly perusing the many magazines, carried a large purse on her shoulder, its large pockets gaping wide. He brushed up against her with a gentle bump, dropping his phone in her handbag. He apologized and excused himself. He would've nonchalantly walked away without even looking back had it not been for the nosy, pimple-pocked college guy that had locked his eyes onto the situation. "Stop that man!" he yelled. "He stole this woman's wallet!"

 

And the chase ensued. In and out of alleys and shops he weaved, crossing mid-morning traffic. But the kid in pursuit didn't give up- and an out-of-shape desk jockey wearing wing tips and a three-piece had little chance of outrunning a college-aged kid in his Nikes. Gulping for air, James continued onward. No, he hadn't stolen anything. And by now the "victim" of his reverse theft was discovering that not only did she have her wallet, but a new phone to boot. The boy stopped for a moment, giving James a slight inkling of hope. But when he looked back, the boy was talking to a street cop, waving his arms this way and that.

 

Oh come on!

 

The officer spoke into his radio, detaining the boy long enough for James to slip into a nearby floral shop.

 

"Help you, may I?" Her seraphic voice was beautiful, matching her radiant face. Though aged with wrinkles and silver hair, she conjured a smile from him. And for just a second, he forgot the trouble lying in wait outside.

 

Stammering and suspiciously looking out of the cluttered front windows, James replied softly. "I'm looking for something to take to my fiancee." He paused long enough to peer out the window once again. "But I'm not sure you have what I'm looking for."

 

"A special girl she is?" she asked. James couldn't help but smile back, thinking about Yoda with similar wisdom, though green.

 

"Yes, ma'am. Very much so."

 

"Exactly what you need I have," she replied, motioning him to follow her to the back room behind the counter. James looked out the window one last time, and gratefully followed her. She led him inside a walk-in refrigerator where the most beautiful blooms welcomed him with their brilliant colors and vivid aromas. With his sweat-stained armpits, wrinkled shirt, and untied shoe laces, James stood in obvious contrast. "Found it I did!" the old lady exclaimed. Again, James smiled, paying homage to the green Jedi hiding within this woman. To say the arrangement was beautiful would be like calling Mt. Everest a snowhill. Among the deep red roses, pink flowers with yellow stamens and purple tips mixed perfectly with the hand-picked green foliage and etched-glass vase. A symphony of strong scents reminded him of the summers he spent helping Grandma Sterling prune her delicate flower beds.

 

"It's perfect," he concluded, honestly. "She'll love it!"

 

Walking back to the front counter, the sage woman named the hefty price but James didn't balk. She could've doubled the price and he would have gladly paid it, as if spellbound. He reached for his credit card, then stopped abruptly. If I use this card, they'll immediately know exactly where I am. Damn it! The three remaining dollars he had left wouldn't buy a single petal from a single flower in the arrangement. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry. I ran out in a hurry and left my wallet back at my place. Really, this is the most beautiful arrangement I've ever seen... or smelled. I'll have to come back later."

 

"Leave without this you may not," she announced, almost defiantly.

 

"Didn't you hear me? I don't have a way to pay for that right now."

 

"Then later will you pay, perhaps. With the fiancee in trouble you are, no?" she asked prophetically. James nodded with slight amazement. "Then take these you must. Later I will see you. Or maybe not. But the flowers you must take."

 

"Thank you. Thank you so much," he offered. And for just a second, he forgot the trouble lying in wait outside. Stopping short of pushing the door open, he returned to the counter and rested the arrangement there. James reached across the counter, gently grabbed the lady's cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. She giggled as he picked up the arrangement and fled out the back door.

 

Wanting badly to return home to look for the missing watch, James resisted. His paranoia had long ago taken hold and filled his mind with images of his place crawling with FBI agents or being secretly watched by Chicago police. No, home was not an option. More than answers, he wanted to get as far away from Chicago as he possibly could- and that meant he needed some cash. And since he had some flowers to deliver, fate had already chosen his next steps.

 

Not having lost all his faculties, James chose an indirect route to Julie's posh Lincoln Park home, skirting the Drake Hotel which stood in an otherwise direct path to the Trixie's home. Julie had come about her seemingly inexhaustible wealth the old-fashioned way- from dear old Dad, Paul Michener of the Michener & Williams Associates namesake. James cherished dating the daughter and heiress of his company's senior president. He enjoyed the prestige of high society, the rubbing of shoulders with honored guests, and the endless supply of any high he desired. That life was fading away.

 

Mile after mile he forced each step amidst unnerving thoughts and a river of steady tears. I did not kill that woman. I don't know what happened, but I did not kill that woman. No one is going to believe me- except Julie. Oh God! What if they are watching her place, too- just waiting for me?  She knows I'd never hurt anyone. She'll help me out. I'll grab some cash and kiss her good-bye then get as far away as I can.

 

He wiped his face with his sleeve, rearranged the flowers slightly, then rang the doorbell.

 

---

 

"I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work." James handed her the distraught flowers then recounted his misadventures of the day as his fiancee listened carefully with occasional and justified interruptions.

 

"What do you mean you slept with her? Is she the first one?" But James continued his tale as Julie physically and emotionally detached herself, growing visibly agitated.

 

"I didn't kill, her, Julie. You know that!"

 

"I don't know you anymore at all James! You cheated on me! What else don't I know? You are such a..." she ranted.

 

"I know, I know," he cried. "I'm sorry! But please believe me. I need you!"

 

"Why did you come here, James? What do you want from me?"

 

"I just need some cash to get me out of town. Then I will never come back. I don't deserve you." He just barely managed to choke out the words through the crying.

 

"Here! Go hock this!" she yelled at him, throwing her beautiful engagement ring at him. The 2-carat ring slid across the foyer.

 

"Please, Julie. I love you. I will always love you." James sobbed, truly a broken man. "No one could ever take your place."

 

"But she did last night, didn't she, James? The woman in the paper..."

 

"No, that was a mistake!"

 

"A mistake?" shrieked a voice from around the corner. James looked up, confused. "That's not what you said last night." The mysterious woman from the hotel emerged, half smiling.

 

"You? But you... the paper... you're supposed to be dead! Oh my God! What's happening!" He stood up, leaning against the door. "But... but... the paper.... the story.... you were murdered... and I.... I thought they would... "

 

"James, meet my southwest regional sales manager, Stacy. Oh, that's right, you did last night, didn't you?" Julie stabbed. "Was it good for you, James? Was she worth it?" The woman stood there, smiling, waiting. "I knew it. Deep down, I knew it, James. And this... this proved it." She grabbed the newspaper from his hand. "Looked so real, didn't it? The article, I mean. You were so drunk last night you'd believe anything. It helps to have friends in the newsprint industry... so authentic. That's right, James... it was all a setup. And you fell for it. You are a sad excuse for a man, Sterling."

 

Hunched over, James cried himself dry- regretful of his infidelity, angry at being set up by the woman he thought he loved, and relieved that it was all for naught. His crying grew into a slight chuckle, then an outright laugh. "You think it's funny?" She approached him angrily causing James to look her in the eyes. The slap stung his face before he could even recognize it as a slap. But he just kept laughing. And when he wouldn't stop, even after the fourth slap, she asked "What's so funny? You have nothing to laugh at!"

 

"Nothing to laugh at?" he asked. "Five hours ago I was guilty of homicide- my life was over. But now I'm just a worthless... what did you call it? Oh, a sad excuse for a man! That may be! That very well may be- but at least I'm free!"

"Go home, James," she told him, nudging him toward the door. "And don't bother returning to the office... ever. I delivered your resignation to Daddy this morning." James knelt to pick up the ring and left.

 

Relieved, Julie closed the door and handed Stacy an envelope. "Thank you. You came through for me as you promised. He fell for it- hook, line, and sinker. It's all in there- just as we had discussed."

"Thank you," Stacy replied. "I must admit, he really was great last night, you know."

Within minutes, Julie pressed number two on her speed dial. "Hello, Mark. He's out of the way for good now. Yes. Okay, I'll pack my bags... and my passport."

 

---

 

James was absolutely spent, but he did make one last stop before heading home. The bell jingled as he opened the front door to The Old Lady's Garden. The same beautifully spry woman greeted him with heavenly warmth. "Like it she did?"

 

"The flowers, yeah. Me... not so much," he admitted.

 

"Well, found out now at least you did," she offered, her words like honey.

 

"Yes, ma'am. Found out I did," James contemplated. "I told you I'd come back later."

 

"Your wallet you found?" she asked.

 

"No, but this should do." He handed her the ring, placing it in the palm of her hand. "Maybe we can call it even now."

 

She relaxed her fist and smiled as she saw the ring. Amazed at its size and beauty, she held it up to the light and teased, "Oh, you'll have to do better than this!" They both laughed at her clever wit. And rather than overstay an accidental welcome, James hugged her one last time and headed for the exit. He stopped and stared out the front door.

 

"Looking still for what chases you?" she asked. James shook his head without turning to face her. "Out-hide some things you can. Outrun you cannot. Find you your sins will."

Wisdom from Yoda. James laughed and left without looking back.

back to Contest #3