Deadly Donations Part I
My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth Magazine.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Conclusion
This Friday started off pretty tame.
Which is interesting.
I was beginning to think I wasn’t ever going to report calm in my waters.
Especially after the last couple of stories.
You know the ones I’m talking about right?
The one where I ended up an unwilling participant in a car wreck and encountered a ghost doctor?
Then the day I got stuck in the middle of a bank robbery?
Yeah, those two stories.
It’s been a hell of a six weeks folks.
After picking up a egg, cheese and sausage biscuit and a coffee I headed over to the Dark Side’s offices.
Most of you folks know I’m a traveler. On the back roads of Americana is where I find my best work. So for me, going into the offices of my magazine is certainly not on my top ten list of things to do.
It’s not even on my top two hundred list.
But it seems my new boss Rick McDonnell has a little quirk about having his field writers come in from the cold at least once every other month.
The last communication Sunny and I had with Rick he blistered our asses for working a story together…again, so I figured I’d best not push the envelop right now.
The argument was in full force when I reached my desk.
Rick’s door was closed, but he’d not bothered to close the cheap ass Venetian blinds on the glass. Sunny was stabbing the air at him with an index finger.
“You know damned well it’s got great story written all over it Rick.”
“I don’t give a shit Shaundrika. How many times are you going to make me say this?”
“As many times as it takes for you to tell me to run with it.”
“Goddammit, I said no. It’s too dangerous. We’ll put somebody else on it.”
“Oh it’s too dangerous for me but not for somebody else? Too dangerous for a woman?”
“I’m not even believing you went there Alexander. You say one more word and I’ll…”
“You’ll do what? Fire me? Go ahead Rick, fire my ass. Then I’ll be free to hunt this story down and sell it to the highest bidder. Maybe even the Dark Sides. I guarantee you, the price Dark Sides will have to pay would make Jeff Bezos do a double take.”
“Go home Alexander. Go home and cool your ass off. I don’t even want to see you in this office until we’ve both had a chance to calm down.”
“Rick, listen to…”
“No Goddammit. Get the hell out of my office now!”
Sunny stomped out of Rick’s office slamming the door behind her so hard the walls shuddered. Her desk was opposite mine and I watched as she freed her laptop from its docking station and jammed it into a tote.
Sunny was trembling. I tried to act nonchalant as if everything was normal. The thing is it wasn’t hard to notice tears collecting at the edges of her eyes.
“Everything okay?”
“How long have you been sitting there James?”
“Uh, not too long, but probably long enough.”
“Then you ought to know everything is not okay. Stop asking questions and leave it the hell alone.”
“Sunny…”
She snatched her tote and swung the straps to her shoulder then walked away.
“I said leave it alone James.”
I watched her stomp her way out then figured I’d call her later after the flames died down.
Sunny is the most independent, strong willed, tenacious, super talented woman I know. I’ll never admit this to her, but she’s a damned good writer. Damned good. Her work has an edginess to it which serves notice to the reader they better hang onto their butts because the ride is about to get intense.
Despite the fact she and I fuss and fight like we’re mortal enemies, I’ve grown to not only respect her, but enjoy the partnership we’ve established.
In my mind, she’s like a daughter to me. You know, the child I never wanted?
I heard the sound of Rick’s office door opening. Rick McDonnell had that drill sergeant look about him. Light brown hair neat and close to the skull, broad upper torso swinging a pair of thickened tree branch arms. He took a couple of steps toward the break room then stopped and glared at me.
“What the hell are you doing here James? Shouldn’t you be out finding a story?”
“Uh, you said..”
“I said what James?”
“You know what McDonnell? You need to take your own advice and cool your jets.”
Rick squinted hard at me, then shook his head and grinned.
“That’s what I love about you James. You don’t pull your punches.”
“Yeah, and neither does Alexander. I’m guessing most of the city heard you guys yelling at each other. So what caused all that shit this morning?”
“Difference of opinion. She wants to do a piece. I told her no. Simple as that.”
I picked up a clean notepad and stared at it.
“According to my notes here, you said something about it being too dangerous and you were going to assign it to somebody else. Right after that, the shit hit the fan.”
“You know what James? You and Alexander are two monumental pains in my ass. If you both weren’t good writers I’d fire both of you. Get out of here. I’ve got a magazine to run for God’s sake.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice. Color me gone.”
I drove back to my apartment in Round Rock, spent a thrilling couple of hours playing the slot machines at a local laundry mat, then packed up and headed out. On my first stop at a convenience store for my stockpile of road food I decided to give Sunny a call.
“What do you want James?”
“Still pissed?”
“No, I’m so over this morning. Listen, I have a lot of things to do before I leave…”
“Leave? Where to?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Yeah, our squabbles are sometimes closer to a Sugar Ray, “Hit Man” Hearns prize fight, but one thing we’ve never done is withhold story information from each other.
Until now.
“Sunny, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Henry, I’ve got to go now.”
“Sunny…”
When she disconnected the call I thought about calling her back. Something told me she wouldn’t answer. My spidey sense was jangling again. This had something to do with the argument she and Rick had this morning. An argument about something dangerous Rick didn’t want her to dig into.
Something else I knew.
Whatever Sunny had going on, the fact Rick McDonnell pulled her off the story — or so he thought — meant this shit was about to get real.
READ ON — DEADLY DONATIONS PART II
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