I was just messing around yesterday, as I like to write first chapters of new ideas that tickle my fancy. Let me know what you think of this story. Do you want to know more? Should I keep going? Eh, eh?
Chapter One -
Rain pitter-pattered against a tiny glass window somewhere
in New York .
Patrick Birch sat alone in his studio apartment just off Crown Heights
in Northeast Brooklyn .
Doing nothing again,
thought Patrick, as he readjusted the rabbit ears on top of his TV. Patrick
didn’t even jump at the sound of sirens that had just started blaring outside
his window. Another night of furious yelling and rap music had begun to replace
the reassuring sound of crickets that used to fill the summer air.
Instead of cherry blossoms and rose petals, the air in his
apartment was filled with a mixture of marijuana smell and fast food from the
surrounding apartments.
Instead of a monthly salary, a generous 401K, and benefits,
Patrick now relied on that once-a-month deposit from welfare and insurance from
the state. Heaven forbid I should have to
go to the doctor, Patrick thought, having just caught reception of the
local Fox News.
Patrick held his breath, inhaling a deep breath of perfume a
la McDonald’s Fries, and gently let the antenna go. There were still a few
lines running through the picture, but that was as good as it got around here
these days.
Examining the living room-kitchen-bedroom combo where
Patrick spent most of his days, a visitor would only spot a patched-up recliner
and a counter full of various Ramen noodle boxes and old fast food bags.
If there were a bottom, Patrick had not only hit it, but had
been camping out at it for two years now.
Gone was the colonial-style mansion in upstate New York . Gone were the
days of meeting with clients and eating lunches that were more than his monthly
pension. Gone were the days with her.
Patrick almost cringed at the thought of her.
He quickly shifted his weight back into his chair, because it would only bring
pain.
The last time Patrick had thought of his ex-wife was six
months ago, and that was completely unintentional and unavoidable. He had seen her in Queens ,
wearing her Chanel bag, and her Loubuitin pumps, using the money from the
divorce no doubt.
That was reason enough to never leave the apartment ever
again.
Patrick took a fork of salty noodles to his mouth and
narrowed his eyes on the News lady. A brunette by the name of Hope Anders, she
was easy on the eyes and ears, and had become the sole feature of his nightly
entertainment.
Suddenly, the square box at the corner of the screen shifted
to a picture of one of the most talked-about women in New York as of late. She was far out of
Patrick’s league, a beautiful brunette with not only looks, but massive amounts
of power, which had only grown in the past week.
The newly-widowed Allison Barnett had just become one of the
most powerful figures in New York
industry. Her former husband was none other than the CEO of Golden Bank
Investing Group, or GoBIG as it was colloquially known.
Hope Anders reported from the TV, “Following the sudden
passing of her late husband, Ms. Barnett received word from her husband’s
attorney she was to step down from her position on the board to become the
newly-appointed CEO of the investment giant.”
A recorded feed earlier from the day showed Allison Barnett
walking out of an office building in Lower Manhattan ,
shielding her face from either the sun or the horde of reporters surrounding
her with a bombardment of questions. Her only two words as she looked into the
camera was a somber, “No comment, thank you.”
It was either sadness or fear that trembled from her voice,
but it was enough to cause a sting in Patrick’s heart. He took another mouthful
of noodles and pushed the Styrofoam cup up to his face to drink the broth. Liquid
that smelled of chicken splashed onto the beard that had grown over Patrick’s
face in recent years.
He stood up, peeking out the blinds at the flashing lights
that seemed like strobe lights in his tiny apartment.
He missed his old life, to say otherwise would be a lie to
himself. He missed the fancy dinners, the shiny new toys, and the power – Oh, the power – as Chief Editor of the
publishing company Simon & Schuster, he had power to grant life or death to
not only books, but also his employees. The world was at his knees for a time.
Then the divorce happened. And everything, even his job, was
stolen from Patrick.
Patrick smirked to himself as he stood by the last vestige
of his past life, a small crate full of some of his favorite books he had come
across during his fifteen year tenure at Simon & Schuster.
He let himself graze the bindings of the ten or so books
that had made his own bestseller list. A murder mystery involving set in
Victorian England, a science fiction book about time traveling. His head was
full of so many stories from the past years, some good, some not so good, but
between watching the news lady and trimming his nails immaculately, there
wasn’t much else to entertain Peter.
So, he would replay the stories he knew so well in his head.
As he turned his head, Patrick’s finger fell on the last
book on the right, one that he hadn’t thought about in a long time. With a
hesitant look, he had an idea either so brilliant or so ridiculous, it didn’t
matter anymore.
A hardback book with a red cover showed on the binding the
title, The Con Man’s Woman.
Hmmmm, Patrick hummed to himself.
What if?
Maybe there was a way
to have my life back…
Patrick turned back to the television where Hope Anders was
wrapping up her coverage on Allison Barnett, speaking about the volatile stocks
of GoBIG.
The irony hit Patrick that hope was exactly what he was
looking for, and this woman newscaster had just given that to him.
Patrick looked up at the tiny round mirror that hung
crookedly on the wall. He smiled to himself, a face he no longer recognized,
shrouded by dark facial hair and years of hygienic neglect.
He almost laughed out loud at the brazenness of his idea. But what was there to lose?
He could almost taste the fine wine, the hundred dollar
steaks, and that power that never satiated but always teased like a cruel
mistress.
It would be his again…
Patrick was going to con Allison Barnett.
