FICTION
Sins Of The Past Part 1
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson. And I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
Aside from the typical Monday morning blusters of Rick McDonnell, this particular Monday was just a bit different. It seemed as though one of the writers in the bullpen had gained an almost celebrity status. It’s not every day someone is laid to rest after an exquisite funeral service, and two and a half months later, that same person walks into the offices and reclaims his writing desk.
For one of us, merely lumbering to the breakroom for a cup of coffee became an arduous adventure of explanations and impromptu conversations, as everyone wanted to hear the story.
“I swear to God if I have to tell this story one more time, I’m going to really die this time.”
“Promise?”
“Bite my ass, Johnson.”
“Henry, they just care about you. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I swear to…”
“Mother? What are you doing here?”
One of the disadvantages of sitting with one’s back to the elevator doors is, of course, people have a way of sneaking up on the bullpen unseen. A situation usually corrected with a small mirror sitting on the corner of the desk. Evidently, when the occupant of the desk became temporarily dearly departed, the mirror had departed itself.
“Morning, Shaundrika. Henry Allen James, what did Doctor Adams tell you?”
“Which one is he? I’ve seen so many over the last two months I need a freaking Rolodex to remember ’em all.”
Cynthia thumped a plastic pill tray on the desk and crossed her arms.
“Your pills Henry? You have to take these every day. What is it with you and this aversion to medicine?”
“Dante’s the same way, mother.”
“Whoa, you’re comparing me to a ten-year-old kid.”
“Then stop acting like one and start taking your pills, dear.”
“Fine honey, I will later. It’s not like I have…”
Cynthia dug into her tote purse, yanked out a bottle of water, and placed it beside the pill tray.
“As I said, take your pills.”
“I will, Cynthia. Damn.”
“I’m not leaving until you do.”
After attempting to choke the pills down, stopping briefly as the gag reflex hit, the pills finally made their way down.
“See? That’s wasn’t so bad. Have you two had a chance to speak with Rick this morning?”
“About what?”
“Uh, your response tells me you haven’t, dear. I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go ahead and leave. I have a board meeting in less than an hour, and you both know what traffic’s like at this hour of the morning. Henry, I’ll see you this evening. Shaundrika, give your husband and my grandchildren a hug and a kiss for me.”
After exchanging hugs and pecks on the cheek, we watched Cynthia as she strolled toward the elevators. After pushing the call button, she turned, smiling and waving at us, then turned her attention to the elevator doors as they whooshed open.
“Any idea what she meant by that?”
“You mean about talking to Rick?”
“Yeah, you realize if mother and Rick have been scheming together, it can’t be good.”
“Probably not. Let’s go poke the bear.”
“Uh, I’d rather not.”
“Come on, princess. What’s the worse that could happen?”
“Dammit Henry, you know I hate it when you say that.”
“And yet you’re smiling. Want to explain that one?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
We covered the short distance from the bullpen to Rick’s office and stopped just outside. Rick had the receiver of his phone crooked in his neck against a shoulder and was rapidly tapping on his keyboard. When he saw us, he stopped typing, leaned back in his chair, and waved us in.
“Yeah, thanks Charlie, I’ll let them know. Sure thing. Oh, and this time we’re shooting handicaps. I’m getting tired of always buying the beer. Yeah, we’ll see about that. Talk to you later, Charlie.”
Rick eased forward and slipped the receiver back into the cradle of the phone, then removed his glasses and stared at us. For several seconds we exchanged glances, hearing nothing in his office except for the muted conversations of the bullpen drifting in through his opened doorway.
“Well?”
“Uh, you wanted to talk to us, Rick?”
“Interesting. I don’t remember asking you two to come into my office.”
“Well, that’s because you never ask. You demand.”
“Shaundrika? Are you just trying to piss me off?”
We both stood to leave.
“Sit down you two. As long as you’re here, we may as well get this over with.”
“Don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Didn’t think you would, Henry. After what’s happened, we think you should fly a desk for a while.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. What’s with this we shit? We as is in you and my wife?”
Rick sighed heavily and slipped his glasses back on.
“Henry, your wife also happens to be the CEO of Alexander Investments. You remember Alexander Investments, don’t you? The company that owns Dark Sides?”
“How long, Rick?”
“Well, I suppose that depends on your partner Shaundrika. Oh, by the way, James. Have you been taking your meds?”
“Oh, for the love of God. You too, Rick?”
After offering us a wicked grin, Rick’s expression shifted into a sterner, more serious look. We’d seen that look before. It usually meant we were either going to get shredded into pieces for some infraction we didn’t even know we’d done, or worse, assigned to a story we didn’t want.
“You two remember Lover’s Cross?”
After a quick exchange of glances, we slowly turned and stared at the man. With his often deadpan expressions, it was sometimes difficult to get a handle on when he was joking. The problem with Rick McDonnell was when it came to the business of running Dark Sides, the man never joked. About anything.
“Uh, yeah. The Penelope Layne story?”
“But she wasn’t who she said she was, was she Henry?”
“And it damned near got you killed, old man. See what happened when you tried thinking with the wrong head?”
“Bite me, Johnson. Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Okay, you two. Save that shit for later. In case you didn’t know, that was Charlie Alvarez on the phone. A buddy of his from his academy days called with some information he thought we needed to know.”
“Rick, Lovers Cross was a long time ago. What’s to know?”
“Fifteen years ago, to be precise, James. According to Charlie’s buddy, she was released two weeks ago.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“Her sentence was fifteen years to life with the possibility of parole, Henry. To hear Charlie tell it, his buddy says she became a model inmate and managed to clear the parole hearing without a hitch.”
“So now’s she out. Whatever. Let her parole officer deal with her happy ass.”
“That’s where this gets tricky, Henry. She’s gone.”
“What do you mean by gone, Rick?”
“The woman has disappeared, Sunny. Two weeks after she was released, she simply vanished.”
“And you want Henry to fly a desk because you think she’s coming after Henry?”
Rick was silent, staring at us as if he understood we already knew the answer to the question. What bothered us was what he said next.
“I think she wants more than just Henry this time.”
Read On — Sins Of The Past Part 2
Let’s s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.