When The Program Fails People Die Part I

A Sunny Alexander-Johnson And Henry James Series

My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Last week’s Friday storyboard session put our boss, Rick McDonnell, in a pretty good mood with our story on the Fort Worth Texas Coliseum and Donnie and Suzanne Sullivan.

So much so, we took a chance and decided to show up on a Monday morning. Something we very seldom did. Interestingly enough, we were both beginning to get this Monday thing at Dark Sides down pat.

Probably because the ritualistic sacrifices made to appease Rick’s notorious Monday morning tirades had all but dried up.

Still, there was an air of nervousness which pressed down on everybody in the bullpen when Rick left his office for coffee, the restroom, or any of a thousand different reasons.

“Whatcha doing, Johnson?”

“What the hell does it look like, old man? I’m making a phone call.”

“To who?”

“You know what, James? The last time I looked, you’re not my mother.”

“No, but I’m gonna be your daddy princess.”

“Bite my ass…yes, this is Shaundrika Johnson. I need to make an appointment today to see Dr. Graves. Tuesday? Do you not having anything for today? I see. Okay, Tuesday at nine’s fine. Yes, thank you.”

For several minutes we busied ourselves with inputting the receipts of our expense reports from our last story, absorbing the varied sounds of other writer’s conversations, telephone calls, and the pounding of laptop keyboards.

“You okay?”

“Yes, Henry, I’m okay. That Coliseum story just kinda shook Peanut up a bit. Since then, I’ve been experiencing some pain. The baby seems to be constantly agitated and moving. I don’t know how this kid is managing it, but I swear sometimes it seems like it’s punching me with its fists on one side of my womb and kicking me with its feet on the other side.”

“I guess babies can do that.”

“How the hell would you know, old man?”

“I was a baby once myself, Johnson.”

“James, you weren’t born; you were hatched.”

“Oh, my God. That was so funny I forgot to…”

“Johnson! James! My office!”

“Oh, crap Henry. What did you do now?”

“Why is it when McDonnell yells at us, it’s always my fault?”

“Because usually, it is. Come on before he really gets pissed.”

We stopped only long enough to grab our coffee mugs and pushed through Rick’s open door at the same time doing our best Laurel and Hardy imitation. Rick offered us a wry look of chagrin, waiting just long enough for us to get situated, the sprier of us sinking into the luxury of the couch while mother and baby were forced to perch on the edge of a chair in front of Rick’s desk.

“Okay, the statistical reports from Alexander Investments team of bean counters are in. Anglea Stringer made have jacked Dark Sides up, but we’re making up lost market share at a pretty rapid rate. Featuring your last story when we did, helped.”

We stared at each other, then shot a pair of grins back at the man.

“I know what you two are thinking. Don’t even go there. Listen up, hotshots. You’re only as good as your last story. This is Monday. You both have till Friday to come up with something worth publishing. By the way, Sunny, how’s the baby?”

“Never been better.”

“So, how far along are you?”

“Ten weeks. Why do you ask Rick?”

“Well, I had a conversation with your mother this morning, and I agree with her. I think another week or so, and it’ll be time.”

“Time? Time for what?”

“To pull you from the field.”

“The hell you say!”

“Oh, holy shit Rick, please tell me you didn’t just say that.”

“I did Henry, and I’ll repeat it. At the end of next week, Johnson, I’m pulling you from the field. You can help work the story with Henry from the bullpen.”

“Come on, Rick. You know I can’t stand flying a desk. The last time almost drove me out of my skull.”

“The last time Johnson was up close and way too personal. That’s why I had Wu team up with James on the Macey story. No telling what you might have done if it had been you coming face to face with the killer of your brother instead of Henry and Wu.”

“Rick…”

“No, Johnson. The week after next, you’re flying a desk in the bullpen. The discussion’s over.”

“So, I’m guessing I’m flying solo again?”

“You? In the field without adult supervision? Don’t think so, Henry. Johnson’s replacement…”

“Temporary replacement.”

“Fine, Johnson. Temporary replacement — will be here mid-week. Henry? Get him settled in, and then you three need to get cracking. Now get out of my office. At least one of us has work to do.”

We filed out of Rick’s office, instinctively headed for the break room to refill our mugs, and then lingered for a bit waiting until one of the writers from the bullpen filled her cup, nodded at us and walked away.

“This is bullshit, Henry.”

“I know Shaundrika, but we just got to roll with it.”

“How would you feel if it was happening to you?”

“It did happen to me, princess. Do you not remember Stringer putting me on the copy desk?”

“Oh yeah. But this is still bullshit.”

“Yeah, let’s just make the best of it. Come on, back to the grind.”

We both resumed what we were doing on our laptops, paying little attention to the low strains of chaos going on around us. Over the years, we’d learned to block most of the white noise out, assume a tunnel-vision type of focus. Even if it meant trying to ignore the persistent warbling and flashing lights of incoming phone calls.

“This is James.”

“This is Sunny.”

“Henry, it’s Manny. You got a minute?

“Henry, that was Robert calling me. He said Manny’s in town and needs to talk to us.”

“I know, princess. I got him on the line.”

“Well, put him on speaker.”

“Hang on, Manny. I’m going to put you on speaker so Sunny can hear.”

“No, Henry. Do not do that.”

“What’s he saying?”

“Damn, Johnson. Just give me a minute, okay? Manny, what’s up, dude?”

“Look, it’s complicated. I’ve already spoken with Robert about it, and he thinks you two can help. I’m staying at the Omni, room 554. Can you two come over this afternoon?”

“Whoa, you’re here, like in Austin here? Why?”

“Have you ever heard of the WPP?”

“Witness protection program?”

“Yeah, you know what happens when the program fails, Henry?”

“Uh.”

“People die, James. When the program fails, people die. Look, I gotta go. You, Sunny, and Robert just get your asses to the Omni this afternoon. Room 554 got it?”

“Yeah, got it. Room 554, Omni downtown.”

When Manny hung up, we sat staring at each other across the desks. It wasn’t like Manny to do this, to be acting like this.

“What’s up with Manny?”

“I don’t know, princess, but he sounded scared. Strike that, he sounded terrified. I don’t know how, but I think the man’s in some pretty deep shit, and he hasn’t got a clue what to do about it.”

“He’s staying at the Omni. He wants us to meet him this afternoon. He said Robert needs to be there too, so I’d suggest calling your husband.”

“On it.”

Read On — When The Program Fails People Die Part II

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