STARTING OVER (32 page)

Kate crossed the room that served as a combination living/dining room with a kitchenette blocked off in one corner by a folding screen.  Small, run-down, yet barely affordable, she had, nevertheless, looked on it as a cozy hideaway...until now.  Even with all the blinds closed, drapes pulled and the door locked, she still felt vulnerable and alone.  At any second there could be a knock on the door and the police . . .  She wasn’t ready.  Not yet.

Kate knew she shouldn’t have run away.  It wasn’t even a conscious thought as much as an instinctive reaction to flee.  When she heard the sirens, she knew help was near, and there was nothing she could do for any of the men lying on the sidewalk.  She melted into the growing ring of curious bystanders and watched the emergency activity.  As more and more people arrived, she had slid farther into the background until she just stepped away and disappeared into the night.  Sooner or later she would have to talk to the police.  Later, seemed to be the better plan. 

She entered the bathroom and turned on the shower.  It would take at least five minutes for the hot water to reach her second floor pipes, so she finished undressing while it ran.  Her fingers fumbled as she took off her left earring, than reached for the right one.  Touching the empty lobe of her ear, she sighed.  Damn!  The sparkling crystal hoops had been her favorite pair.  She sighed and stepped out of her panties, then unhooked her bra. As she tossed it on the bed, a hundred dollar bill fluttered to the floor.

She blinked and stared at the crumpled bill for a few seconds without moving.  Jameel had given it to her earlier in the evening, and because she hadn’t brought a purse, she’d tucked it into the cup of her bra.  In all the excitement, she’d completely forgotten about it.  Stepping over it as if it was a poisonous snake, she entered the shower and pulled the curtain closed behind her.

As expected, the water was barely lukewarm, but it still felt good, pouring over her, washing away all the physical reminders of the night.  She scrubbed her face and body with a soapy washcloth until her skin felt raw.  Even after the water ran cold, she lingered in the protective cell of the tiled shower until she started shivering again.  Reluctantly, she turned off the faucets and picked up a towel. 

She made a half-hearted attempt to blow dry her hair, then wrapped a fluffy robe around her naked body.  Suddenly overwhelmed by a debilitating exhaustion, she succumbed to her earlier instinct and crawled into bed.  With all her lights blazing and her ruined clothes littering the floor, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.  As much as she hated to think about it, she knew nothing would change before morning.  Sooner or later, she’d have to deal with it all . . . but for the few hours left until dawn, she would try to find peace in the depths of sleep. 

* * *

It was almost 4 a.m. when he reached the newsroom.  In spite of the early hour, there were already a couple other reporters at their desks, working desperately on their latest tip, trying to develop it into a story that would make it to press.

Brian smiled as his fingers closed around the cell phone in his pocket.  Let them scramble.  Yesterday, he’d been one of them.  But this morning, everything had changed.  What might have been a back page filler had suddenly become a front page headline. 

Somewhere between the shootings and the arrival of the coroner, he’d called his editor who had promised him two inches on the front page in today’s edition, plus a half page in tomorrow’s and a full spread on the website.  All with his by-line. 

For eight years he’d been working at this paper, doing every crap job there was just to stay on the payroll.  Denver was a great city if you liked football or skiing.  Brian liked neither.  His pallor was well earned spending hours inside homes or bars or malls or whatever crazy location might produce an interesting story.  He couldn’t get the big assignments until he’d proven himself.  But he couldn’t prove himself until he found a big story.  That vicious cycle had generated such fascinating assignments such as the man who had painted his house, lawn and even the dog Bronco orange and blue or the woman who trimmed one of her hedges in the image of Obama during the Democratic Convention. 

No matter how small and unimportant each story was, he’d struggled to keep it fresh and give it his whole heart, knowing that one day, he’d get his shot at the big time.  One day someone would notice the beautiful prose and the brilliant insight that he put into each and every piece. 

And that one day was today.  He’d already called in the brief report that barely made it into the morning edition.  He had all day to write the more detailed story that would appear in tomorrow’s edition.  He wasn’t scheduled to be in the office until noon, but he was too energized to sleep.  He could still remember the weight of the cop’s
Glock in his hand and the kick when he pulled the trigger.  Even hours later, the rancid smell of gun powder and blood still filled his nostrils.  The adrenalin continued to pump through his veins, making his heart pound wildly in his chest.

Brian’s fingers danced across the keyboard as the words detailed the events of the night.  This story was big enough and had a high enough profile to break him through that ink-stained barrier.  And best of all, this story was all his.  

OMG

A Young Adult Novel

By Bob Kat

Published December, 2012

CHAPTER ONE

TUESDAY, EARLY JUNE

There was a parrot outside her window.  Kelly rubbed her eyes and squinted into the painful glare of bright Florida sunshine that had awakened her.  Perched in a palm tree, the large scarlet and blue bird cocked its head and looked back at her.  Trying not to frighten it, Kelly slid the sheet back and eased her legs out of bed.  One slow step at a time, she crossed to the window and knelt down.

“Hello, pretty bird,” she said.

The bird looked at her like she was crazy.

Kelly smiled.  “Okay, then, how about handsome bird?  Maybe you’re a boy.”

Still nothing.  The parrot twisted his head almost upside down.  His black marble eyes blinked, then he lifted his head and shook, causing his rainbow-colored feathers to fluff up.

That was the full extent of her bird talk.  Kelly had grown up around horses, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks and even a miniature goat.  But her experience with tropical birds was limited to occasional visits to the zoo.

“You look like a boy to me, so if you keep hanging around, I think of a real name for you.”  What was it about parrots that made people want to engage them in conversation?

The parrot opened his yellow beak and let out an ear-piercing squawk that was clearly heard through the closed window.  With a last glassy wink at her, he lifted out of the tree with a graceful flap of his colorful wings and flew away.

Kelly turned back to the room, but instead of standing up, she slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, and looked around her.  It was a stranger’s room, decorated in beiges and soft greens.  The walls were mostly bare with only a large mirror over the dresser and a print of a beach hanging on opposite sides of the room.  The curtains were sheer lace that had done nothing to delay the first light of day from waking her.

She sighed.  A glance at the alarm clock confirmed that it wasn’t even 6 o’clock yet.  She rarely slept late, but this was a little too early.  The day stretched long and
empty, and she wouldn’t have minded putting off the inevitable until a little later in the day.

Just yesterday, she had awakened in her own bed, in her own room back in Friendswood, Texas.  If she had looked out her window there, she would have seen oak trees, green fields divided by white-railed fences, a small red barn and a beautiful pinto horse grazing in the pasture.  Kelly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back the rush of tears that never seemed to be far from flooding out.  Just a week ago, her parents would have been asleep down the hall.  The alarm would have gone off at 6 a.m. and her mom would have fixed breakfast while her dad got dressed for work.

It was crazy how quickly things had changed.

The air conditioner had chilled the tile floor, and Kelly shivered.  She stretched her arms over her head and stood up.  The one good thing about this totally impersonal bedroom was that it had its own private bathroom.  She had to work her way around the maze of moving boxes, gathering clothes out of her suitcase along the way.  As she brushed her teeth, she tried not to look in the mirror, but her reflection refused to look away.  She
stopped, her mouth filled with foam and stared at herself critically.  Her eyes were probably her best feature.  They were large and an interesting shade of greenish-brown that could be called hazel.  She wasn’t as happy with her stick-straight dark-brown hair that fell several inches below her shoulders.  It was a constant challenge to coax it into anything resembling a curl, so she rarely tried.  Her complexion was having a good day, but her face was nothing special at the best of times and it was still missing the high cheek bones God had given all the beautiful girls by now.  Maybe they would show up if her cheeks were less . . . round, was the word she was searching for.

She finished brushing her teeth and rinsed her mouth.  After a quick splash of water on her face, she brushed her hair and pulled it back into her usual high ponytail.  With her arms raised to twist the elastic band around it, her attention was drawn to the slight bulge over the top of her shorts.  Her mother would call it puppy fat.  Tyra Banks would call it a muffin top.  Kelly called it embarrassing.

She turned and checked it out from the side but the issue was just moved ninety degrees clockwise.  It meant that this would be another summer spent in a one-piece swimsuit.  She remembered seeing a pool in the backyard.  That would be a good way to kill some hours with the added benefit of helping her find her waist.

Within a few minutes she was prepared to meet the world or at least her Aunt Jane, and she left her new bedroom and headed downstairs toward the kitchen.  Muffin top or not, her mom had always told her breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and old habits die hard.

“Good morning,” Aunt Jane said with obvious surprise.  “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early.  Did I wake you?”

“No, there was a parrot squawking outside.”

“That stupid bird.  I don’t know who he belongs to, but he hangs out by the pool and poops on everything.”

“He’s beautiful.”

Jane shook her head.  “He’s messy.”

Kelly had already noticed that everything in the house was very neat and orderly.  Aunt Jane’s comments further confirmed that she wasn’t used to having anything disrupt her lifestyle.  It must be quite a shock to suddenly have a fifteen-year-old thrust into your household.

“I don’t know what you like to eat, but I picked up some basics.  I usually grab a cup of coffee and a bagel on my way to the office.” Jane smiled, but it didn’t hide the concerned look on her face.  It had been Kelly’s parents that were killed in a head-on collision last week, but Jane had lost her older sister and brother-in-law.  Jane was a well-respected assistant district attorney, and she had to handle all sorts of people and problems.  But it was clear she had no idea how to deal with this awkward situation.

“I can fix something for myself.  My mom taught me a lot about cooking.”

Jane paused with the spatula in mid-air.  Her expression softened.  “Your mom was always a much better cook than I was.  She took after our mother.”

They were silent for a minute, each lost in
her own memories.

The smell of burning eggs brought them both back to reality.  Jane hurried to stir the eggs, turning them from over-easy to crunchy scrambled.  Kelly watched, helplessly, wanting to take over, but hesitant to butt in.  Jane looked over her shoulder at Kelly and grimaced.  “I think these are ruined.”

Kelly nodded.  “I think you’re right.  Want some help?”

Jane dumped the overdone eggs into the garbage and handed Kelly the spatula.  Kelly noticed there were burned crispy lumps already in the bag.

“Waffles?”

“Sort of,” Jane admitted.  “They didn’t turn out right either.”

Kelly glanced around the room and noticed the box for a waffle iron on the counter. “Did you season the waffle iron first?”

“No.  Was I supposed to?”

“Actually, yes.  Then the waffles won’t stick.”

“Listen, I went straight from four years pre-law at the U to law school and then to twelve-hour days at the DA’s office, so I barely had time to eat, much less cook.”

“I’d be glad to help out.  It’ll give me something to do.”

“Until you make some friends.”
  Jane washed her hands and watched as Kelly cleaned the waffle iron, then wiped oil all over the ridges and into the creases.  Kelly poured batter on the waffle plates, then closed the lid.

“That might take
awhile,” Kelly said as she wiped off the batter that oozed out.  “I don’t have a lot of experience with that, if you know what I mean.  My mom said I needed to work on my social skills.”

Jane studied her niece and noticed the flush of color on Kelly’s cheeks, showing she was a little embarrassed by the conversation.  Jane knew that Kelly’s life had been centered
around her family and a few lifelong friends from surrounding farms.  Living in a city, even one as small as Fort Myers Beach would be a new experience for her.