EDDIE

Boy, I thought I was out of here but good. The sheriff dropped me off and there waiting at the door was Captain Jack, lookin’ all stern and stuff. I was certain he’d already called my case worker and it was only a matter of time until I was out on my ass. But … it didn’t happen that way at all. All he did was tell me to put my bike away and go to my room. No yelling. No threats. Nothing. But I could tell I let him down, and that was worse than anything else he coulda done.

I did what I was told; locked the bike up in the barn and went to my room. I thought about turning on the computer, but didn’t feel like it. I thought about sneaking out, leaving before old Jack gave me the boot. And then I thought of what a good place this was … no one yelling at me or hitting me, everyone treating me nice. And the thought that now it was all fucked up, well, I almost cried. I’m no sissy, but … I like this place. And now they’re gonna make me leave.

So, I started to get my shit together; pulled out my old duffle and piled the clothes in. I was almost done when Jack knocked on the door and asked to come in.  

He looked at the duffle on the bed and seemed surprised. “Why are you packing, son?”

“Well, I thought I’d be ready for when Erica got here.”

Jack looked even more puzzled. “Is Miss Chandler coming here tonight? Did you call her?”

Now I was confused. “No, sir. I thought you did.”

“No, she has not been called. So, please, put away your clothes.”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

Jack sat in the desk chair. “No, son. Why would I do that? But, we do have to talk about your friends.”

I felt like a shitload of crap was lifted off of me. I’m not going to have to leave! “Sir, I promise, Dean’s not my friend.”

He looked at me like he wasn’t quite sure he believed me. “No? But, you robbed the store for him.”

I hung my head. “Yeah, well, I thought he was then. I mean, I wanted us to be. He seemed like such a cool dude. But,” I looked up at Jack, “I don’t think he’s really my friend. He ran away when you and the clerk caught me.”

“You know, son, I agree. The boy is not your friend and he’s certainly not ... what did you call him? A cool dude? But, why did you meet him in town? What did the rascal want?”

“He called and asked me to meet him at the park. He said he ran away and wanted me to go with him. Said we were partners.”

“Ah, well …”

“Sir, there’s more. He wants me to rob this house. Said he needed money for his trip.”

He first looked shocked, then mad. “Well, the bugger seems to have many plans.” He grinned at me. “We’ll just have to have a plan of our own, won’t we?” I swear … the man’s eyes twinkled!

He stood and went to the door. “Now, I believe Mrs. Aubrey will have dinner ready soon. Please wash your face and hands and come to eat. We’ll talk more of our plans for this Dean over our meal.”

I began to unpack my duffle. “Whatever you say.”

“Capital!” he said as he left the room.

JOHN
 
Like I told you all, I started journaling. It’s been good, and looking on the bright side, pretty damn private too. It’s kept me out of the shrink’s office, and seems to be helping me through some crap I usually ignore. Psychological therapy, I guess. Even with everything going on, I’d been writing some every day.

We’re back in our own place now; our apartment supersized is almost finished after the fire.  We still need a few more pieces of furniture, especially the massive dining room set, but we’ve decided to hold off on big expenses until we get back on our feet. We missed the last of the ski season and the Inn is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Three guests … count ‘em … one … two … three, and one of them is Mr. Nudist from a few years back. Luckily, I’m not spending a whole lot of time in the lobby and risking another full moon experience while he rearranges his fucking towel … if he bothers to wear one.

Riley too was sort of workless, a few meetings here and there but nothing really shaking. Luckily the public dining room is kicking ass just like always, booked solid almost every night. She’s spent some time down in the kitchen, expediting, and most likely driving Chef Chris, Andy and Monica up the wall. Whatever, not my problem. The kitchen was always her first baby. They’ll just have to deal. This afternoon, she’s off with Nathan for his regular check-up. The kid was charging into his terrible twos with a vengeance, but I’ve got my suspicions that being so displaced for the past few weeks then coming home to an apartment that looks nothing like our old one might have something to do with it. Ah well, it’s his job to push our buttons. Generally, he’s a good little boy. Can’t wait to see how all this pans out when the next baby comes. Riles is taking him to McDonald’s for dinner. I’ll wait for my Big Mac and fries, no matter how long Nathan insists on playing in the playground. It’ll be worth it, he’ll be tired enough to sleep.

For some reason, about a week ago I couldn’t face the anguish of self exploration anymore and found myself staring at a blank screen. Journaling wasn’t in the cards so I started surfing the web. I discovered something kinda cool. Blogs. Some were stupid, some kinda interesting. I found myself responding to a few of them and getting responses to my comments. So much so that one commenter actually suggested I start my own blog. Turned out these blog setups are free. Fit right into my budget so I did just that.

I started with an introduction. The next blog talked about my life as an Innkeeper, the one after that talked living in a small town. To my fucking amazement, all my blogs were getting like a hundred responses! It wasn’t until I started another series of blogs covering the characters here in Stowe that I realized what I’d done. In my efforts to avoid the biggest problem I had to deal with … the problem I didn’t want to face in my private journals … I’d solved the problem!

I’m having a hard time facing the fact I lost a friend.

I can’t believe Kevin could just decide I don’t fucking exist because he doesn’t like my past. Fuck. I honestly feel like I lost a lover, God sakes. I heard through the grapevine that he and LizBeth are considering selling their house and leaving Vermont. Yeah. I’m pissed. I’m a coward and should face him, make him talk this out. I can’t make him stay in Vermont and don’t want him thinking I can’t live without him, but shit! Would he really go that far to avoid me? He’s been working on the Inn and managed to never say two words. I wonder what he’ll do if I don’t write that final check for services rendered. Maybe he’ll have to finally face me in court when he tries to sue my sorry ass?

Well, having lost one friend, I discovered that I’d made hundreds. Cyberspace was magic and suddenly people wanted to know my opinion. People I don’t even know. Guess I should get working on the next blog.

JACK

As soon as I left Eddie’s room, I phoned Ben. We discussed the ruffian Dean and what to do about the situation. We agreed the best plan of attack calls for Ben to be here tonight and arrest Dean for car thievery. I thought briefly of involving Eddie in our plan, maybe having Eddie appear to comply with the young robber’s plan, only to thwart him at the crucial moment. Ben felt young Eddie’s involvement was unnecessary. He already had enough evidence to arrest this Dean and take him to the authorities in Burlington. I argued successfully that we did need young Eddie, if only to serve as a lure, to ensnare the boy in our trap. Ben reluctantly agreed.

I discussed this with Natalie and Eddie over dinner, and while Natalie had some womanly concerns over young Eddie’s safety, the boy himself was eager to join in the fun. I assured my dear wife that no harm would come to the boy, nor to myself or Ben. Naturally, she acquiesced to my wishes and agreed to stay safely indoors.

At one in the morning, Eddie was waiting on the porch, Ben hiding around the corner of the house, and I was just inside the front door, the lights out and unseen. Much to my surprise, Eddie took a cigarette from Ben and stood waiting for the young hooligan, the end of the cigarette glowing in the darkness.

Right on time, we heard the crunching of tires in the gravel driveway, and a car pulled up, headlights off. The would-be thief got out and whispered loudly. “Eddie! Is that you man?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered back.

“Cool. Lead the way, dude. Gotta get some stuff to sell. Gas is expensive, man, and this beast drinks a lot of it.”

Just then, Ben rounded the corner, his gun drawn. “That’s enough, young man. Just stop where you are and put your hands where I can see ‘em.”

I flicked on the switches by the doorway. The porch and the drive were flooded with light. The boy froze, looked to Eddie and cried, “You little shit!” He turned to run, but Ben’s deputy pulled up behind in a squad car and prevented his escape.

I heard young Eddie speak. “Payback’s a bitch.”

Well, God’s teeth, it certainly is.

The boy scowled as he was handcuffed and placed in the car, but he said nothing. Just stared at Eddie who glared back. A tow truck arrived to remove the stolen vehicle, and as it drove away, Ben turned to Eddie.

“You did good, kid. Kept your cool and did what ya had to. I like that.”

Eddie grinned. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

I shook Ben’s hand as he got into his truck. “Thankee, brother. I appreciate your help with this small problem.”

“It was nothing, Jack. Anytime.” He nodded goodbye and drove off.

“Eddie,” I turned to my son, “now tell me that wasn’t fun!” I laughed and followed the boy inside.

JACOB

When the bus drops me off at home after school, Grandma Enid is usually in the kitchen waiting for me. She’s not really my grandma, but she said it was okay for me to call her that because she likes the sound of it. She also knows that I don’t have a grandma of my own any more, and it’s nice to pretend. When I came home this afternoon she met me at the front door like she always does. I could hear Amanda crying upstairs.

“Is she okay?” I always get worried when I hear Amanda cry, even though she doesn’t do it very often, not for very long, anyways.

Grandma Enid gave me a hug hello and I hugged her back. She was wearing a bright purple sweater and smelled like vanilla. I was hoping that meant she’d been baking cookies.

“She’s cutting a tooth and feeling a little cranky, so Aunt Jessie’s giving her a bath to try and calm her down.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by “cutting a tooth,” but decided that I didn’t want to ask about it, because it sounded creepy. Grandma reached for my backpack and brushed my hair back off my forehead.

“Okay, kiddo, what kind of homework did you bring home today?”

The rule is that I have to do my homework before I can watch TV or go outside and play. “I have to learn ten new vocabulary words and write a sentence for each one.”

“Well you’d better get crackin’. Scooby Doo is on in a couple of hours and I have a fresh batch of peanut butter cookies with your name on ‘em.”

I went back to my room and found Kahlua curled up on the bed next to my pillow. As I changed out of my school clothes, he opened up one sleepy green eye and gave a meow in greeting. I reached over to scratch his chin and his tail thumped up and down on the mattress as he stretched out his paw and rolled over on his back. I knew better than to pat his tummy, but he looked kind of disappointed when I got up and sat down at my desk.

I was almost finished with my eighth sentence; the word was interrupt. It’s one that grown ups like to use a lot, especially on us kids. I was trying to think up a good sentence when I heard a truck pull up outside. A few moments later I heard my dad saying hello to Grandma, followed by footsteps down the hallway.

“Hey squirt, ‘bout done with your homework?” He tapped softly on my door even though it wasn’t closed.

I looked up and saw that he didn’t have any plaster or wood chips in his hair like he usually does when he comes home. “Did you go to work today?”

He came in and sat down on the edge of my bed. “I left early so I could meet with the realtor. Looks like we’ve got our house.”

He smiled real big and even though I was happy, I also felt a little sad; I like living here. “When do we have to move?”

“Escrow’ll close in about thirty days, maybe quicker if we’re lucky.” He reached over and spun my chair around so I was facing him.

“What’s escrow?”

“It means that certain things have to be checked out before we can move in; back taxes, liens, termite inspection … boring stuff that you don’t need to worry about. But I want to talk to you about something else.”

Uh-oh. When grown ups say they want to talk to you, it usually means that you’re about to get in trouble for something. “Okay …”

He looked really uncomfortable, kind of like he ate something that didn’t taste very good. “Um, you like Samantha, right?”

I nodded my head.

“Well, how would you feel if Samantha started coming around more often?

“You mean, like for dinner and stuff like that?”

My dad scratched his cheek and grinned. “Uh, yeah.”

“I really like Samantha. She could come visit Bella and help us build our tree house.” I didn’t understand why my dad seemed so worried about this; Samantha’s our friend and she’s nice and pretty and smells really good.

My dad laughed. “I don’t reckon she’d be too interested in tree houses, but then again, I’ve never asked. What I really need to know is, how would you feel if Samantha and I started dating?”

“You mean like taking her out to dinner and kissing and all that stuff?” I made a face and stuck out my tongue.

My dad laughed again. “I can see that Enid’s been lettin’ you watch her soap operas, but yeah, I guess you could say it’s kinda like that.”

I tried to imagine my dad and Samantha kissing, and I had to giggle. “Kissin’s icky.”

“One day you might find that it can be pretty nice. But back to what I was askin’, would it bother you?”

I shook my head. Samantha’s fun and my dad always smiles whenever he’s with her or mentions her name. “Do you think you want to marry her?”

“It’s a little early for that. But she’s certainly nice enough for someone to want to marry.”

“You’d better hurry, then.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You know somethin’ I don’t?”

“No. But someone else might be thinking the same thing and beat you to it.”

My dad laughed and pulled me off my chair. “You say the darnedest things, sometimes.” He gave me a big hug and I hugged him back. “But you’re right. Think I should ask her out to dinner on Saturday?”

I put my hands on both sides of his face and scratched his beard. “Take her someplace that has good desserts. Girls really like chocolate.”

My dad laughed hugged me again.

KIM

“A vacation is a terrible thing to waste.”

Emmie groaned. “Too predictable, and there’d be obvious copyright issues.”

I went to the next slogan on my list. “Ok, how’s about, Life’s too short to spend your vacation at a bad hotel?”

She stretched her arms out in front of her and pushed her chair back from the desk. “Um, not quite, but I think you’re on the right track.”

I was kind of enjoying this; she’d hadn’t heard the best ones yet. “How’s about this; We’ve got more to offer than pretty leaves and fabulous skiing.”

“Hmmmmm.”

“The 1876 Manor House – We’re all that and more.”

No response.

“Viva Vermont.” I ducked when Emmie lobbed an old eraser at my head.

“The 1876 Manor House – the place to stay during all four seasons.”

“Now, that one has possibilities. 

I circled that slogan where I’d crossed out the others on my list. We’d been brainstorming all morning to come up with ideas to help generate business for the Inn; the fire had been a devastating set back and the economy was keeping folks at home. Once we might have hired an advertising agency to do this work for us, but right now we just didn’t have the budget.

“Okay, and here’s my slogan for attracting local business: “The 1876 Manor House Inn – where getting away is even closer than you think.”

Emmie’s head snapped up and her eyes were full of excitement. “Oooh, that one’s really good. Are you sure you made that one up? ”

I raised my eyebrow and gave her a scowl. “Oh please …”

She picked up her note pad, giving me a wink as she came over and plopped her sweet bum down on the edge of my desk. “I’ll send them off in an e-mail to Riley along with the proposed package specials for approval; do you think we should also offer a three for two special?”

She was referring to our earlier discussion to give away one night free room bookings to guests who reserved our standard three day, two night package. “We could also toss in a complimentary dinner for two to sweeten the offer.”

“We’ll have to make it very clear that it’s only available when booked in advance. By the way, didn’t you mention that St. Ursula’s had called to get a quote? Something about a Summer Fantasy dance?”

“I’m still negotiating the price with the Dean. We may get lucky because they’ve waited so late to secure a booking. The only real competition is from the Trapp Lodge, but their banquet hall prices are still a little steep.” She flipped her note pad over to the next page as she shifted her position by crossing her legs, giving me a lovely glimpse of her creamy inner thighs. I fought the urge to cop a grab. “But, I have three silver anniversary bookings, five good sized weddings and get this; I got a call from the marketing manager for the National Bird Watcher’s Society here in New England and he’s scouting out locales for their fall convention. They usually hold their gathering in Mystic, but he’s hoping a change of venue will help lower costs and draw more participants.”

“Maybe if we toss in a free continental breakfast?”

Emmie shook her head. “I was thinking of suggesting a raffle to be held on the last night; winner would get two nights free lodging. I’ve also contacted several of the restaurants in town and we’re working on putting together a special coupon offer; buy one adult entrée and the second one is free to registered guests at the Inn. Two of the coffee shops are willing to offer coupons for complimentary lattes and bagels to registered guests.”

“What’s in it for them?”

“I have it all figured out; registered guests will be presented with a small goodie bag of coupons and special offers from participating businesses and in turn they’ll prominently display our advertising posters and banners. It’s a win/win situation.”

I liked the idea and was glad that Emmie had the natural ability to charm the local business owners and pull it off. The locals have taken a real hit with the economy and no one wants to invest money in something that may not produce a return. Everyone’s more than a little scared these days.

“The Chamber of Commerce is hoping to kick off a new advertising campaign for Oktoberfest and I thought we could come up with our own ideas to attract revenue.”

I got an instant visual of Inn employees wearing lederhosen and pretzel necklaces and had to shake my head to clear the thought from my mind. Although, I’d pay money to see Biebe wearing clogs and a Miesbacher hat.

Emmie leaned over towards me and tugged on my ear. “Why are you grinning like that?”

I described the image and she gave a soft trill of laughter. “Could you just imagine Antonyin suspenders? Although, I’ll bet he has very nice legs.”

I caught her in surprise and pulled her off the desk and onto my lap. She gave out a high pitched girly squeal and I silenced her with a kiss. I didn’t even mind it when she reached up to run her fingers through my hair.

“But your legs are much nicer.”

I kissed her again before she shimmied free of my grasp.

“Hold that thought for later, tiger. Business first; I’ve got to send out that e-mail.”

JOHN

This morning Juba left with his wife for their long drive to California. Looks like he and Antony hit it off great, lifelong brothers from ancient times and all that. I gotta admit, I’ll miss Juba’s grin, those white-white teeth and his laugh. He was great during the worst of the work and did amazing things in the newly enlarged apartment. His skill with wood is remarkable and he’s sure put his signature in the wood moldings we’ll see everyday.

As soon as he left, I found myself back at my laptop. I decided I wanted to talk about running for mayor of Stowe. I told the story (all news under the bridge and on the record) of my currently imprisoned opponent and his decades-old murder of an FBI agent. Talked about the body being buried right on our property, even talked about how some people (no, before you scowl, I didn’t mention Daisy) see ghosts here. The blog never went deep into my campaign, but it was interesting enough. Once it was done I leaned back in my chair and buffed my nails on my shirt. Just call me Charlie Danner! Good writing, I guess.

SAMANTHA

I had to pull an unexpected double shift when our dispatcher called out with the flu. I don’t mind helping out when needed, but I was a bit disappointed when Sheriff Wade asked me to fill in instead of Simmons. Let’s face it; my boss is a chauvinistic troll and can’t get it through his thick skull that I’m not some helpless female who can’t hold her own with the big boys. I don’t mind the overtime so much and the extra money will go towards Ooljee’s boarding fees, but it’s kind of a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.

It didn’t help that it was a slow night. It’s not so bad when you’re running your rounds and making sure that everything’s as it should be, because you’re driving and your mind and eyes are on the alert for anything out of the ordinary. But the dispatch room on a quiet night is about as exciting as watching paint dry. Around nine p.m. my eyes were growing heavy and my arm was full of welts from pinching myself awake. I was about to get up and start doing some jumping jacks when my cell phone began vibrating. I caught the name on the caller ID and suddenly I was on full alert status.

It was Egan. I know I was grinning like a fool when I answered, but since no one was around to see my expression, I really didn’t care.

“I hope I didn’t catch you gettin’ ready for bed.”

I felt my toes curl inside my boots at the sound of his honey soft baritone. For some reason I reached up to pat my hair into place. “Not at all. I’m actually filling in for a downed comrade tonight; she’s trying to convince us that she’s come down with the Swine Flu. Problem is, this is the second time she’s had it in the last two weeks.”

“Well, I won’t keep you tied up since you’re at work and all, but I just wanted to know, um, if you’d like to have dinner with me this Saturday.”

“Well, I’m working the early shift because Simmons owes me a favor, so yeah, that sounds great. Is this a celebratory dinner over your getting the house?”

“Not really. This would be more like an official, um, you know, date.”

My breath caught in my throat and my toes curled even tighter. He sounded as awkward as a high school boy and I suddenly felt like a giddy teenage girl. “Egan, that sounds lovely.”

I could sense the relief in his voice and felt flattered that he’d been nervous.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Um, unless that’s too early?”

He could have said he’d pick me up at midnight and I’d be hard pressed to think of a reason to complain. “Seven’s fine.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.” He paused for a moment. “Samantha?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

My cheeks were about to split from grinning. “Thank you for what?”

“For saying yes.”

I felt my face burning and tamped down the urge to giggle. The joy of the moment caused me to forget myself and I can’t believe what I said next. “I wonder if you realize just how easy it is to say yes to you.”

While I was cringing and feeling like a complete idiot when my words registered in my brain, I could hear Egan’s chuckle.

“Well, that’s a good thing for a man to know. But I promise not to take advantage of that information. You take care and I’ll call you Friday evening.”

My toes started cramping. “You sleep well, and give Jacob a hug for me.”

After we hung up I no longer felt sleepy. I stamped my feet to stop the tingling in my toes and reached for the broom, figuring I might as well do something productive with all my new found energy. I made sure to lock the office doors first, just in case someone came in. I mean, all I needed was the Sheriff showing up unexpected and catching me playing the domestic diva. I’d never live down that humiliation.

LACHLAN

“But you already have an office here.”

I’d just informed Jessie that I was about to sign the lease on a small office space in town and her reaction surprised me. “Sweetheart, you’re always complaining about the clutter and how my work is taking over the family room …”

“But you don’t have to rent an office. We have plenty of room right here.”

Separation anxiety? I’ll admit to feeling a little surge of pleasure in knowing that my wife was going to miss my presence during the day but business is picking up and I need a more professional looking work space. I don’t like the idea of bringing prospective clients back to the house. 

“I found a real nice location at the base of Mountain Road.”

“But you didn’t talk to me about any of this first.” She actually pouted and I pulled her into my arms for a hug.

“All this fuss and I’ll only be ten minutes away.”

She nuzzled her nose into the crook of my neck and hugged me back. “I know, but with Egan and Jacob moving out soon and you’re almost finished with mom’s granny flat...”

“I thought you’d be happy about us having a little bit of our privacy back.” I had the feeling that there was more to Jessie’s insecurity than she was letting on, but didn’t want to press the matter; it would most likely work itself out without analyzing it to death. “Besides, I reckon you’ll hardly notice the difference except the house will maybe be a little less messy.” And it wasn’t like I was home much during the day with a project rolling. We were picking up more work than we’d originally imagined and were providing employment for a number of local independent contractors. Bloody hell, business was crackin’ good.

“I know I’m acting like a hysterical ninny.” Her words came out muffled as her lips were pressed against my neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” She let go of me all of a sudden like and wiped her nose as she started to move away. “I’m being stupid. I have plenty of things going on to keep busy during the day.”

The back of my neck was tinglin’ but I was running late for an appointment. “We can talk about it some more when I get home tonight, but really, it’ll all be apples. You’ll see.”

She gave me a weak smile and sensing that she was okay, I made my way for the door. I really don’t know why I didn’t tell her about my plans before this, but kind of reckoned her reaction would’ve been a tad more positive. I made a mental note to stop off at the florist’s shop on the way home. I mean, this is a good thing. The way things are picking up, I may even have to hire a part time secretary.

Hopefully by tonight she’d be a bit more settled with the idea.

JOHN

Late at night, Riley fussing in the fancy new kitchen and Nathan sound asleep, I opened my laptop and started another blog, shocked to see the ridiculous popularity of the previous ones. The whole thing shot a glow of success through me, but I bit it back. No point in getting crazy here. Writing blogs sure doesn’t make me any money, but … I gotta admit, it was damn fun.

This blog was about the people in Stowe, specifically the people I know. About our sheriff, Ben Wade … lawyer and my campaign manager, Richie Roberts. One of our chefs, Andy and our fine manager, Kim Barrett. I wrote about the kindly old high school Chemistry and Japanese teacher, Jeff Wigand; and the new business blooming in the town … earth conscious flipping, Vermont style with green renovations by Lachlan Curry, Jeff Mitchell and Egan Walsh. I mentioned Vermont’s fine vineyards, one owned by Max Skinner; and the new boarding and equestrian training center being developed by Jack Aubrey. I even talked a little about a friend who can protect travelers from being kidnapped without K&R Insurance, Mr. Terry Thorne.

I described the town and its little quirks and peculiarities, about how wonderful it was and ended with an open invitation to my readers to visit Vermont. Ask for the mayor, I wrote.  It just might be me!

“Whatcha writing?” Riley said, shockingly close to my right ear.

I jumped and slammed the laptop closed. “Ah … nothing.”

She easily lifted the lid and looked. After a few moments of scrolling and clicking she turned sparkling eyes to me. “John, you’re a writer!”

“Nah, not me. You’re the writer in the family, baby. Just making friends, that’s all.”

She swiveled my desk chair and knelt between my knees. “I’ll be your friend,” she teased, tugging at my sweats and making me hot as hell.

“Nathan’s sleeping, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled, I’d lifted my hips and the sweats were down around my ankles. She had me out and I stood at attention. Damn I love oral surprises.

But she’d no sooner sucked me deep when I heard little footsteps coming from across the apartment. Good thing the damn place was bigger than before, because I had just enough time to push her away and drag my pants back up. I ran a hand through my hair. “What are you doing awake, Nathan Biebe?” Hope I didn’t sound too pissed.

However I sounded it worked and the kid skedaddled right back to his bedroom. I dropped into my chair and groaned. My wife?

She fucking giggled until she had to pee.

CAL McAFFREY

A few weeks ago I woke someplace strange. No biggie. Not like it was the first time. I was crashed on a couch in some suburban house in Arlington. Whoever I picked up the night before wasn’t interested in me, or maybe I was just too fucking drunk to keep my eyes open. No matter. It was Monday morning and I was going to be late for work.

I left the house and things just got weirder. My car wasn’t anywhere in sight. A bus came by and I hopped on, hoping I had enough cash to pay for the trip to Washington. At the Post … you got it … weirder. My desk wasn’t my desk. My boss wasn’t the same boss, hell, no one knew me and I was starting to think I’d had some kind of stroke. I had no job, no car and soon found out that someone I never met is living in my apartment.

I picked up a paper just to see what I could see. Weirder, nothing on the story I cracked, nothing on Steven Collins, a man I considered by best friend since Penn State. Nothing on nothing. What the fuck?

No bank account. Not good. I needed cash. The only thing I still had that I could see was an ability to write. Monday afternoon; after swallowing the fact that my life wasn’t a story worth investigating until I had enough money to eat, I went to the library and sat at a computer. And I wrote.

Some stories are marketable anywhere. Basic commentary on politics, family values, crime. Easy shit. I wrote and wrote, even rewrote old stories and plagiarized myself. Hell, maybe a good fact checker would find my fucking life for me. By nine, closing time at the library, I had written four good stories and submitted them to several newspapers and publications in Washington.

Now to find a bed. The best way to find one of those was to make good friends with a woman who owned one. Her name was Torre. She didn’t live far. And she didn’t require a lot of drinks to gain the invitation. That left me eight bucks for breakfast … unless Torre liked to cook. Not likely by the looks of her place.

Egg McMuffin it was and back to the library Tuesday morning. Nada. Nothing. Not one response to one story in my quickie makeshift yahoo email address. I stuck to the computer, determined to figure this shit out. It didn’t help that my wallet held no identification and less the three dollars. Something had to give. I needed a break in this story. I started surfing the web, researching everything from temporary memory loss to temporary insanity.

At noon I left to try again. Nope, the bald fat guy was still living in my apartment and the Washington Post still had no clue who I was. They asked me to leave. Nicely. I didn’t. Oh, I pretended to, slithered my way down the hall toward the elevator then snuck into an empty cubicle. I sat at that computer. I was thinking about my little blogging partner, Della Frye, nice kid. Pretty. And I was thinking of other ways to find … me.

Duh. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I Googled me. What I got was a headache and belly ache to rival the worst hang over of all times … a Pitt/Penn State kinda hangover. The kind it takes days to recover from. It was me all right. But I was in a movie. A movie? That man looked like me!  So did all those other men. The names slithered through my brain and right back out like water through a sieve. Then I thought I figured it out. I must be the actor guy. I must have amnesia. What other answer could there be?

But … low and behold, if I was Russell Crowe, I was somewhere in England notching arrows in Sherwood Forest. Nah. This can’t be right. Back to Della. Maybe I could find her.

Too afraid to Google her name, I simply scoured the blog sites. It took hours and still no one discovered that I was squatting in an empty cubicle. Hell, a secretary actually brought me coffee!

Then … a breakthrough. Some guy named John Biebe was living in Stowe, Vermont and blogging his little New England heart out. The name was what caught my attention. Hadn’t I heard that name before? John Biebe? And the other names? Terry Thorne? Richie Roberts?

Wait a fucking minute …

I researched deeper and discovered that these men in fact did exist. Most of the listed names lived and worked in Stowe Vermont; Thorne, in New York. All those names … in the Russell Crowe bio at IMDb. Holy living shit!