The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 41

Nothing is ever what it seems

I didn’t have the luxury of taking a moment to consider what I was going to do, other than to draw the inevitable conclusion that whatever I did, there would be consequences.

One thought did cross my mind, in relation to the alien ship and her Captain, why hadn’t they exercised their superior capability, stopped the Russian ship, and taken the offenders away themselves.  And, given the captain was prepared to destroy my ship, why had he let the Russians go?

“The Russian ship is hailing us, sir.”

“Very good, I’ll be there in a moment.”

They had waited a long time before asking our intentions, so what had they been waiting for?  The fact they appeared to be immobilized was, to me, a little too convenient.  Also, they had to know the alien ship was nearby, but even that raised the question of why they were standing off, and not alongside us.

Something was not right about this whole scenario.

I came on to the bridge, Number One standing in front of the Captain’s chair, the bridge crew waiting expectantly.

“Get the Russian ship’s Captain on screen.”

A moment later he appeared, with a depleted bridge crew, different from the last time we spoke.

“What can I do for you?”

“Why is the alien vessel here?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

“What did he tell you?”

“How about you tell me why you think he’s here?”

Why was his concern more about the alien vessel than the state of their propulsion unit?  Unless there was nothing wrong with it.

Silence.

I motioned to the comms officer to cut our side of the conversation.

“General?”

He had taken up a position behind the defense team.

“Sir?”

“If they try to move or power weapons, stop them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Russian ship powering up propulsion, sir.”

“General?”

“Just say the word.”

“Comms.”

A gesture told me the artesian ship was back online.

“Do not try to leave or we will disable your ship.”

A tense few seconds before the navigator said, “powering down.”

“Good choice.  Now, prepare to be boarded.  Any resistance will be met with force.  Am I understood, Captain?”

A measured reluctance in his tone when he said, “Yes.”

“Number one, boarding team assembled?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.  Any resistance is to be dealt with severely.  If the Captain or a representative of the ship wants to come with their crew members, let them.   Bring those on the list back here.”

“Understood.  Sir.”

The Russian captain was still on the screen.

“You have no right or jurisdiction to do what you are doing, and I will be recording this as an act of piracy.”

“Will that be with the international space agency?”

“My superiors, we have already alerted them to the situation.”

“As far as I am aware, your superiors did not register your flight plan as per the treaty that they are signatories to.  Also, you are on a ship that no one knows about.  All of that could be forgiven though, but you had to cause what can I call it, an Intergalactic incident which may yet setback relations with an alien race for a long time.  You would be well advised to tell me now what the hell happened so I can at least try and save you from very severe consequences.”

On a secondary channel that number one had switched to after arriving at the Russian vessel, I heard, “what do you mean you cannot dock?”

The pilot replied, “They haven’t initiated the docking sequence.”

“Is it an incompatible system?”

“No, it’s exactly the same as ours.  It’s like they’ve ripped everything off.  They’re stalling.”

To the captain of the Russian ship, I said, “I get it.  No Captain likes to have his ship boarded.  But this is not the time.”  To the General, “Target their propulsion unit.  On my mark…”

“You are making a mistake,” the Russian captain said.

“Docking initiated.  It is exactly like our system, right down to the override authorization code.”  Number one had the same thought that just come to mind.  Then, “Lieutenant, don’t hesitate to use force if you have to. We have to assume anyone on the other side of the door is a potential hostile.  Counting down, three, two, one…”

I heard the whoosh of the door, and then utter silence, broken only by Number One, “What the hell…”

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

A long short story that can’t be tamed – I never wanted to be an eyewitness – 6

Six

Given the time we had from getting off the helicopter and the pickup of Latanzio, Amy had managed to collect his wife Angelina and her two children, and Gianna and her son, Latanzio’s mistress whom very few knew about.

It transpired Amy’s people had only discovered the mistress by accident during a surveillance mix-up.  It was, in Amy’s opinion, pure gold if it came to needing leverage, though she didn’t say what she might need leverage for.

Both were kept in separate rooms in different parts of the underground complex, each with their own guards.

And, what’s more, the wife had no idea her husband had a mistress, and even though she doubted his fidelity, it was not something a woman in her position could talk to anyone about because there was no knowing who she could trust, or whether it would get back to her husband with disastrous consequences.

Trust in anyone when being married to such a man, was non-existent.  To a degree, I felt sorry for her, though she had to know what she was getting into because he’d been a part of the family crime business from a very early age.  And, for that matter, so had she, but in her case of my was unfortunate in that she had very little chance of picking who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

It seemed that being a Latanzio caused a great deal of grief for anyone who knew him or got in his way.

Both rooms were set up with CCTV cameras, and we were recording everything.  Amy wasn’t expecting much from their conversation, if there was any, as it was well known that Angelina was kept out of the loop deliberately.

As I sat in front of the monitors, set up in a room well away from the holding rooms, I could see Amy over on one side talking earnestly to a man I had not seen before, but the suit told me he was some sort of law enforcement, perhaps a superior and they were planning the next move

I slipped on the headphones at just the right moment, Latanzio being escorted into the room where Angelina was being kept.

She watched him come in, the door closed, but I could see him gesture for her not to speak. 

In a few seconds, he had summed up the room, the two cots provided for the children who were asleep, a state Amy had arranged to spare them the memories of being there, and then a glance at his wife which didn’t spark much of a reaction.

There was still a degree of residual anger in his manner, still trying to come to grips with the manner of how this escape was being run.

The lack of any outside communication. Or news on what was happening might become a concern at some point so it would be interesting how Amy handled it.

I had seen the surveillance reports and it seemed that for a married couple, they spent a lot of time apart, but that was mainly due to the fact she had insisted he not bring his work home, and that gave her plausible deniability.

And, because of that position, there was no surprise it had led to the affair.  Although Angelina had not mentioned it to anyone, whether she knew about it or not, there was no doubt in my mind she did but may have not known who it was.

When she did, it was going to be a very interesting few minutes.

He knew the room was bugged, but may not necessarily suspect he was on CCTV given the time frame in getting this together.  Perhaps he had been looking for obvious cameras as he came in, and during the time the guards removed the cuffs and shackles and saw none.

I hadn’t either until she showed me.

Not even a close inspection would find any cameras, but there were several obvious points where microphones were placed so he’d find them, enough that after he had discovered them, he would believe the room was clean.

As with most parts of the underground complex, it had been made over by a team of very experienced set decorators.  I had seen the before and the after and it was difficult to believe it was the same place.

I watched him systematically search and find four devices, and after the last, the triumphant expression.

“So, why am I here?” Angelina asked after he had finished his search.

“I was told that we would be removed to a safe location “

“But you don’t think so?”

“This whole operation doesn’t feel right.  If Benny had arranged this,  we would not be languishing in a dump like this.”

“Who then?”

“Either one of the Carmichaels or the cops.”

“Why would the cops kidnap you?  They already had you in custody.”

He didn’t answer, but I could see he was weighing the possibilities, and in his position, given he hadn’t been executed, which by my understanding of the rivalry between the two families, the only option if they had been responsible for his liberation.

So that left his own people or in his mind, the police.  It seemed to me if it had been his brother, another of our guests, he would not be languishing in that small room, and Benny would be there to greet him.

I wondered briefly whether we had been too clever.

From what I understood of the operation, no one knew what we had been planning and then executed it, and outside the world we had created, all hell was breaking loose.  It had to be done this way for realism and having a legitimate reason to scoop up all of the necessary parties associated with him, operations that would have failed without the right background.

To every media outlet, he had been taken in a daring raid on the prison transfer convoy. That in itself had been a carefully staged scene, right down to the last detail including ambulances for the injured guards.  But it wouldn’t take long before questions would be asked.

But, for now, he was the subject of a city-wide manhunt, and it was also noted that both his brother and his family were also missing, and the Carmichaels were top of the police department list of suspects.

“Frankly,” he said, I have no idea what’s going on, but if this is Benny’s doing, he’s not doing a very good job of it.  We should be a long way away from here.”

“You might think so, but I’d say we’re lucky we’re still alive.  Do you have any idea what’s going on outside?  Did you ever consider that it’s your actions that have brought this on?  Benny told me you killed someone, which can’t be true because you promised me you would not be like your father.”

“I’m nothing like my father, and you don’t want to believe everything Benny tells you.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it?  I told you I didn’t want to know about your business, and I trusted you to keep your word.  Trust, I’m afraid, that was misplaced.  I listened to your lies when the police accused you of murdering some rival not wanting to believe it was true, and now, on top of that, the police say you’ve either kidnapped or killed some guy who witnessed that murder.  I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt, now it’s time to tell me the truth.”

“It a frame-up.  The cops have been accusing me of everything they can’t solve, and none of it’s true.  I swear.  But this isn’t the time or the place to be talking about such matters.”

“No, perhaps not.  But tell me this, if you’ve got Benny to break you out of custody, that doesn’t strike me as the actions of an innocent man.  An innocent man would stay and take his chances in a court of law.”

“A court of law that’s stacked against me.  All they have is circumstantial evidence.  All they’ve ever had is circumstantial evidence.”

“Because all the so-called witnesses either disappear, recant their testimony, or turn up dead.  This has to end, if only for the children’s sake.”

Angelina, then, was no fool.  She knew exactly who it was she married, and I suspect she had, until now, overlooked the lies.  And in saying what she had, she was taking a very big risk.

“Like I said, this is neither the time or the place to be discussing such matters, so you will stop talking or there will be consequences.”

Even from where I was viewing the discussion, and in particular Angelina, I could plainly see he had hit a raw nerve.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair and looked up.  Amy had returned and was looking at the monitor.   She had put on the other headphones but left one ear uncovered.

I did the same. 

“What have I missed,”

“A joyous reunion, not.  I think Angelina is about to wring a confession of sorts out of the bastard.”

We both went back to the screen.

“Is that a threat, Tony?” 

Her voice had changed, not the sound of a wife who was disappointed, or was tired of her husband’s lies.  This was different.

“What do you mean?  No.  I wouldn’t threaten you, or anyone.”  Slightly apologetic. 

There was a change in the atmosphere in that room, and he had lost some of that bravado.

“Then you’d better remember that.  When we get out of here, you will be having a discussion with my father.  He had been taking a keen interest in your recent activities, and he tells me you have been indiscreet.  He wouldn’t tell me what it’s about, but I will find out, and you better not have broken your promise.”

With that, the conversation was over.  Perhaps there was more to Angelina than I first thought.

©  Charles Heath  2024

Writing about writing a book – Day 11

Once again, instead of writing, I have been obsessing over the planning and creation of a website for the book.

And, that being the case, now I have to give the book a name so I can name the site/blog after it.

The word Starburst has featured in the story so tentatively I’m going to name it “The Starburst Conspiracy”

The site will be on WordPress.  There will be progress blog posts, there will draft writing and possible chapters for beta reading and comment.  There will be separate pages for each of the characters.

I’m not sure how I’m going to build an email list so perhaps I’ll build a following first.

So, having mapped out a plan for the site, I’ve made the first post and written the ‘About’ page which basically gives a bit of history about the book.

Bear in mind the original book of about 400 pages scribbled over a long period of time, and not really a book in the sense of the word (more a collection of ideas set in some form of chronology) and set in the early eighties and will probably stay there but will be the basis for the new novel.

Another interesting aspect of this exercise is to see how far I have come writing-wise in the last 30 years and how easy it is to spot the issues with the original manuscript.

I’ve also created a master page for the cast of characters and only a page for the main character so far.  Others will follow.

There will be another page with an ongoing, updated synopsis.

Shortcuts to these pages, as the information flows will be in subsequent posts.

 

For now, it’s back to writing, after a long gap, and the ideas have been churning in my head.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

There is never enough time for reading

And the point is, there should be.

To me, reading is an essential part of a writer’s life.  We see what others write, we see how others write, and we see what they write about.

It is an education in itself on the genre we eventually want to write for.  Call it homework, or very pleasant homework.

But…

Between everything else I have to do around the house, the time set aside for writing, the time set aside for maintaining social media, the time set aside for family, is there any time left?

About an hour before I go to sleep, though that time is considerably shortened if the book is boring.

Fortunately, quite often they are not.

The other problem is the intervals between new books from my favorite authors is getting less as they take on co-writers, such as James Patterson and Clive Cussler.   And even more are now getting co-authors which means my to be read list is getting longer and longer.

It seems the only time I can steal more than an hour away is when I go away on holiday.  This we try to do several times a year, and this year we’ll be going to Melbourne, and then a week in Tasmania.

There’s only one other problem involved, the fact books are so much cheaper there, and I’ll be buying more.

Damn.  It’s a never-ending cycle.

But, at the moment, the list reads like this,

Len Camarda, The Seventh Treasure

Edgar Wallace, The Clue of the new Pin

Nicola Upson, Nine Lessons

Matt Gallagher, Youngblood

Sam Peters, From Darkest Skies

And, of course, about a hundred others.

As odd as it sounds I’m looking forward to the few hours in the plane seeing many airlines are now doing away with inflight entertainment.  I’m sure food will be next.

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

Writing about writing a book – Day 11

Once again, instead of writing, I have been obsessing over the planning and creation of a website for the book.

And, that being the case, now I have to give the book a name so I can name the site/blog after it.

The word Starburst has featured in the story so tentatively I’m going to name it “The Starburst Conspiracy”

The site will be on WordPress.  There will be progress blog posts, there will draft writing and possible chapters for beta reading and comment.  There will be separate pages for each of the characters.

I’m not sure how I’m going to build an email list so perhaps I’ll build a following first.

So, having mapped out a plan for the site, I’ve made the first post and written the ‘About’ page which basically gives a bit of history about the book.

Bear in mind the original book of about 400 pages scribbled over a long period of time, and not really a book in the sense of the word (more a collection of ideas set in some form of chronology) and set in the early eighties and will probably stay there but will be the basis for the new novel.

Another interesting aspect of this exercise is to see how far I have come writing-wise in the last 30 years and how easy it is to spot the issues with the original manuscript.

I’ve also created a master page for the cast of characters and only a page for the main character so far.  Others will follow.

There will be another page with an ongoing, updated synopsis.

Shortcuts to these pages, as the information flows will be in subsequent posts.

 

For now, it’s back to writing, after a long gap, and the ideas have been churning in my head.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

In a word: Can

Yes, another three letter word with a multitude of meanings, like

I can do this, it’s what we tell ourselves when faced with an impossible mission

You might want to carry a can, perhaps of drink, once made out of steel but now from aluminium.  It can also hold food, like baked beans

You might have a jerry can, which holds petrol, mighty handy if you are driving and run out.  It’s happened to me once

There’s the can-can, but that’s a dance

Can you do this, can I have a drink, you can park over there, it seems we can seek or be given permission

It is an informal name for either prison or a toilet, though it depends on where you are

And in the United States, a ‘tin can’ can also be used to describe a navy vessel

If you get canned from your job, it really means you got fired

In the can means the film has been completed

Of course, there is always a trash can which makes both a mess and a loud noise when they tip over, particularly at night

And, which also make a good set of wickets, painted on, when playing backyard cricket with your friends

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

“Trouble in Store” – Short Stories my way: Annalisa’s story

 It’s time to look at what’s been written for the unfortunate Annalisa, who had been caught up in a situation that is rapidly getting out of her control, not that she had it under control in the first place.  Perhaps it’s time to start reassessing her bad boy phase and think about a new lifestyle. 

Drugs, for her, were fun to begin with, but she kept doing them and now it had got her into this predicament…

Annalisa looked at the two men facing her.

Simmo, the boy on the floor, had told her that the shopkeeper would be a pushover, he was an old man who’d just hand over the drugs, rather than cause trouble for himself.

Where Simmo had discovered the shopkeeper’s true vocation, dispensing drugs to the neighbourhood addicts, she didn’t know, but it was not the first place like this they had visited.

She had always known Simmo had a problem, but he had assured her he had it under control.  Until a month ago, when he tried something new.

It had changed him.

The breaking point came earlier that day when seeing how sick he was, she threatened to leave.  It brought out the monster within him, and he threatened to kill her.  Not long after he had changed into a whimpering child pleading with her to stay, that he hadn’t meant anything he’d said before.

All he needed was one more ‘score’ to get his ‘shit’ together, and he would do as she asked, and find help.

She believed him.

He said he knew a place not far from the apartment, a small shop where what he needed was available, and said he had the money.

That should have been the first sign he was not telling the truth because she had been funding his habit until her parents cut off the money supply.  She suspected her father had put a private detective on to find her, had, and reported back, and rather than make a scene, just cut her off so she would have to come home or starve.  Her father was no better than Simmo.

And, as soon as they stepped into the shop, Simmo pulled out the gun,

Instead of the shopkeeper cowering like Simmo said he would, he had laughed at them and told them to get out.  Simmo started ranting and waving the gun around, then all of a sudden collapsed. 

There was a race for the gun which spilled out of Simmo’s hand, and she won. 

That was just before the customer burst into the shop.

It had been shortly before closing time.  Simmo had said there would be no one else around.

Wrong again.

Now she had another problem to deal with, a man who was clearly as scared shitless as she was.

This was worse than any bad hair day, or getting out of the wrong side of bed day, this was, she was convinced, the last day of her life.

She heard a strange sound come from beside her and looked down.  There was a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth and Simmo was making strange sounds like he was choking.

Any other time she might have been concerned, but the hard reality of it was, Simmo was never going to change.  She was only surprised at the fact it took so long for her to realize it.

As for the man standing in front of her, she was safe from the shopkeeper with him around, so he would have to stay.

“No.  Stay.”

Another glance at the shopkeeper told her she had made the right decision, his expression said it all.  Gun or no gun, the moment she was alone with him, he would kill her.

© Charles Heath 2018-2022