Feeling the Burn

February 3, 2011

I’m starting to kick ass and take names on this novel.  I’m hoping, if all goes according to plan, that I’ll finish this vampire novel in the next couple of weeks.  Considering a bit of a title change actually.  I don’t know, just an idea.  Kind of been falling behind on a lot of my projects, mostly because work has been dragging me down.  The gym helps, but bagging powder and boxing cheese is numbing my brain.

But the gym helps.  As does alcohol.  More so the gym, I think.  I’ve been in  a bit of a depression lately, but that’s mostly work related.  I feel like I’m actually making some progress at the gym, and physically feel better than I have in years.  I haven’t fallen victim to any severe colds or plagues in months either.  Which is somewhat amazing given the disease ridden degenerates I work with (Not all of them, but quite a few of them).  Regardless, I do feel like I’m finally making some progress at the gym.

Here’s a story I started awhile back, figured I’d share it and see what people thought.  Kind of a Gone In Sixty Seconds type of story.  Only the first part, I’ll post more later.

The hotel was a dark and seedy dive in the bad part of town. Outside the window, the river rushed by as the wharf led up to the docks. On the dingy bed was Jono Morrison. Lying around in his underwear on a boiling afternoon was his preferred activity when it was midday and the sun was high in the sky in mid July. He usually considered himself nocturnal, that particular day being a rare exception where business required him to be awake this early. The smells of sex, sweat and day-old Chinese food mixing with Sera’s perfume was beginning to make him nauseous, but lethargy kept him on the bed. Eveything on his lanky body–from his shaggy black hair to his feet–felt dirty. Blade Runner was coming to an end on the TV as his eyes closed again. Sera’s brushing of her teeth caught his attention and he laughed.

Why do you wear perfume?” he asked. “You smell better without it.”

You’re the only one who thinks that,” she replied. “Is the movie almost over? We’re supposed to met Simone and Gonchar soon.”

He turned his attention to the screen where the thin form of Edward James Olmos was speaking.

Yeah,” Jono said. “Couple more minutes.”

Groovy,” Sera replied.

The sky outside clouded over and Jono smiled. The heatwave had been going on for most of the summer and the rain was more than welcome. Crime had risen to an all time high in the city, very little of that due to Jono’s activities.

So what’s the new job?” Sera asked.

New guy came into town,” Jono said. “Wants us to steal a bunch cars by Friday.”

Isn’t today Wednesday?”

It’s weird. He did a lot of the recon for us. Had the locations on most of them for us ahead of time. We’ve checked things out three or four times already. They’re checking out just fine.”

I don’t like it.”

Jono sat up as Sera sat on the bed beside him. Wrapping her up, he kissed her on the neck. Her frizzy black hair tickled his cheeks as he nuzzled her.

It’ll be alright,” he whispered. “We’re the best. There’s a reason for that. We don’t get stupid.”

You better not,” she warned.

#

Detectives Harris and Walcott practiced a slight variation on good cop-bad cop. They called it bad cop-worse cop. They were the heads of the new Grand Theft Auto division, and were not known for wasting time. With their heavy-set frames, bad haircuts, and an stereotypical mustaches, they either inspired fear or comedy.

When Simone sat down in front of them, she got one look at them and laughed.

Should I have brought donuts?” she asked.

The two officers looked at each other from behind their thick sunglasses, not amused. Harris leaned forward across the table.

We know all about your operation last week,” he explained. “We know all the cars have been moved to the buyer. That’s not my concern. We want Jono Morrison. Where is he?”

I don’t know,” Simone replied. She noticed a pack of cigarettes in Walcott’s pocket. “Mind if I bum a fag?”

What?” Walcott asked.

Sorry, I hang around with British people on a regular basis. They call ’em ‘fags’ over there. Can I have a smoke?”

No smoking in here,” Harris informed. “Where is Jono Morrison?”

Simone took a deep breath and blew it out.

Last I saw?” she said. “I think he was in Aston Martin, taking a dive off the docks.”

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