“Machine-gun sentences. Fast. Intense. Mickey Spillane-style. No way around it. Paul is a top-notch writer. Top-notch.” Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Hags Episode 12
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Bob rose from his chair and faced the counter. He paced a short distance and checked over his shoulder. “You know where to find me if you need me.” Bob made his way up to Peevy. They talked.
Micah took a sip from his coffee while focusing on Peevy. In this light and distance it didn’t take much for him to picture the last time she smiled at him.
He remembered a summer day on the Prairie Path, an abandoned series of old railroad right of ways converted to hiking paths that wander through Chicago’s suburbs. Peevy in blue shorts and a white sleeveless top. And about two hundred fewer pounds. A kiss. Not one of those passionate, let’s make like bunnies in the bushes kind of kisses. Instead, they pressed each other’s lips together in a gentle promise of commitment.
A tear flowed down Micah’s right cheek. Peevy stared at him from behind the counter and her expression softened for a split second before it hardened again. Then her face lit up as she turned to the front door of the coffee shop.
“Ahlman!” she called. Several customers stood up when the man with gossamer wings hidden under his Ivy League blue dress shirt entered. They began to applaud.
“Way to go, Ahlman,” a man shouted from a table on the other side of the room.
Ahlman strutted up to the counter through a group of about one half dozen admirers who wanted to shake his hand. He smiled and shook hands like a politician.
“It’s on the house. I’m overlooking that you’re a man,” Peevy said.
“Thank you, dear lady.” Ahlman took the coffee and headed towards Micah’s table. He passed it and sat at the next table in the row and eyeballed Micah as he sat down. He placed his coffee and a copy of Twain’s Letters From the Earth on the table.
Micah nodded in Ahlman’s direction. “You must have done something right.”
Ahlman’s eyes twinkled. “Raised money for one of the local high schools, old boy. I have some friends who are generous.”
“Friends in high places?”
Ahlman laughed and shook his head from side-to-side. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Been here both days.”
Ahlman moved to Micah’s table. “How do you like our town so far?”
“I’ve always liked Naperville. Certain Napervillians are the problem.” Micah took another bite of his scone and washed it down with coffee.
“So this is not your first visit?”
“Long story. Let’s not go there.”
“Any interesting adventures since you came to town?”
“It’s only been two days.”
“So…”
Micah glared at Ahlman. “Yesterday morning a giant faerie that looked like you flew past my window on gossamer wings and landed in the alley in back of my house. Oh, and I found a body in the dumpster.”
“Tell you what, Micah, I’ll be careful of my flight patterns, and you be careful of your imagination.”
“So it was you?”
Ahlman roared with laughter. “You found a faerie? Naperville is such a straight-laced suburban community that I’m surprised you would find one around here. Then again I suppose you can find gays everywhere. My, this is noble coffee. They don’t roast it like this where I come from.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Peevy. You set the land speed record for making her angry when you came in yesterday morning. I asked her who you were.”
“And she told you?”
“She said you were the reason she hates all men.”
“About says it all.” Micah took a sip of coffee.
“Doesn’t say why she hates you, old boy.”
“No. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”
“She may not have wanted to make me blush. I have a certain reputation to maintain. Did you say you found a body? I don’t believe Naperville has many murders.”
Micah held up his forefinger. “It has one now.”
“We’ve had our share of rape and child molestation, but I don’t think we’ve had many murders.” Ahlman took a sip of his coffee.
“Peevy told you?”
“Told me what, Micah?”
“I’m leaving now.” Micah stood up.
“By the way, nice outfit, Micah. Nieman-Marcus?”
Micah stormed out into the bright light of the street.
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