Adult Novel with a Former Businessman Turned Conman with a Splash of Romance. White Collar with You've Got Mail.

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.