Notes from the Edge 04-27-2024 10:23 a.m.

 Notes from the Edge 04-27-2024 10:23 a.m.

Well, here it is almost May. It appears as though spring has finally
sprung here in Northern New York, or, as I like to think of it, Little Canada.
That has been a joke with myself and my friends since we were little kids. It
was because we live so close to Canada that we could pick up the Canadian
television stations better than we could the American television stations. And
as a teenager I probably spent as much time in Canada as I did in this area. It
was like going over to the next little town. No different. Canada is a little over 30 miles to the border; the biggest actual city close to us is over seventy miles away. Why drive seventy miles for my dumb small-town self to get mugged when I can drive 30 or so and feel relatively safe in Canada, hey?

The thing I appreciated, as a curious young boy, was that
channel 13, CJOH in Canada, did not censor their television broadcasts. If you
watched a movie and it had anything risqué in it, they showed it. Or maybe a
film entirely in French. We picked up a little French living on the border, but
not enough to understand it completely. But it made us feel sophisticated to
watch a film in another language. Instant culture. Status. At least to us. I
can remember watching Tina Turner do a concert broadcast on Canadian
television, wearing a fishnet tank top shirt that covered nothing. My friend
and I were floored. At least until my mother came in and flipped out. Oh well.
Little Canada.

In the summertime there were always French speaking
tourists. They came here just like we went there. Nowadays if you want to cross the
border you better be prepared for a wait. And I cannot recall the last time I
saw Canadian tourists on our streets. A long time.

I also grew up in Texas as a younger child. There we lived
right on the border of Mexico. So, I think I grew up with an idea that the U.S.
Borders were pretty loose things. More concept than reality. When we lived in
Texas my parents took us back and forth to Mexico all of the time. There were a
few places they liked to eat in Mexico. They would hop in the car, and we were
there. It was pretty cool.

I only mention it to relay how it used to be. The concept of
another country, a border, was much different back then. And like anything else
you live it seemed as though it would always be that way. It’s sad to see that
it has changed so drastically, and it makes me wonder how much more it will
change.

Here is a glimpse into a book I wrote years ago that I never published. I have dozens of books like that, someday I have to get my head together and get them out of the notebooks I wrote them in and into my word-processor software and publish or ghost them to someone so they can publish them. 

HURRICANE

Copyright W. G. Sweet 2009-2024 all rights reserved.

This story is part of a completely written novel and is presented here with permission of the author. It may not be copied or republished in any manner on any other medium. If you would like someone to read it please point them to this blog. Respect the hard work of this author/ghostwriter.

One

Elements

Monday:

“It’s bad luck to skip school on a Monday,” Amy Knowles said
to her best friend Deidre Blevins.

“I know,” Deidre said, “But I hate it. I just can’t be
there. I can’t deal with those Goddamn Nuns today. You don’t have to come if
you don’t want to, Aim… I didn’t even tell Jimmy.”

“I know that. Obviously I want to go… I mean,” Amy fell
silent.

“What,” Deidre asked?

“We’re friends,” Amy said. “It’s been me and you way before
Jimmy or Mike came along… It’s just that, sometimes we get too far away from
that.” Her face colored.

Deidre nodded. “We do… So, where do you and I go today…
With no car… No way to get nowhere. I hate being on foot… It’s just about
all I keep Jimmy around for. That and the pot,” Deidre said.

“Really,” Amy asked?

She thought about it. “I could think of something better…
For right now he’s okay. I like him well enough.”

Amy wondered what the something better might be. Deidre had
colored a little when she said it. She didn’t ask though. It was good enough
just being together. She didn’t want to complicate it with feelings.

“I smell rubber burning,” Deidre said and smiled. “A penny
for your thoughts: That’s what my dad always says to me.”.

“They’re worth more than a penny,” Amy said as they reached
the parking lot. She slipped her hand through Deidre’s arm. “Lead on,” She
said.

Deidre was surprised by the arm, but pleasantly surprised.
She liked the feel of it, she decided. She looked up at the sky then back down
at the parking lot. “We could hitch out to your place or we could walk around
downtown.”

“We could get picked up by some psycho too,” Amy said.

“Never have,” Deidre countered.

“Okay, but if some psycho picks us up and kills us I am
going to be so pissed at you,” Amy said. She tried a little smile on her face.
Deidre answered it with one of her own.

“Never happen,” Deidre said as they started across the
parking lot.

“I’d probably follow you anywhere,” Amy said softly. So
softly that Deidre was not sure she had even heard her.

“Yeah; I wish that were true,” Deidre said every bit as
softly.

Amy looked up at her. She had heard the words, but she was
looking away. She was about to speak when Jimmy’s voice interrupted her. She
looked up and there he was. His blonde hair hanging in his eyes, head half out
the window of his truck. When no one answered he spoke again.

“I said, I thought you was staying at school today?” He said
again looking a Deidre.

“Well, you said you might be here, so Amy and I thought we
would try,” Deidre said quickly and smiled.

Amy nodded and smiled.

The car behind Jimmy’s truck blew its horn and Jimmy twisted
around and glared back at the driver. He popped up his middle finger and showed
it to the driver and then looked back at Deidre. “So, where we gonna go? I
didn’t make no plans and I ain’t got no money,” Jimmy said.

Deidre had about forty dollars on her, two tens in her
pocket and the rest in her sneaker. She pulled out the two tens. “This will get
us a little way, right,” She asked?

Jimmy took the two tens and slipped them in his pocket. “We
can go out to Mike’s,” he looked at Amy. “He’s working on the Nissan today… I
can help him… We can hang out… We have enough for beer now and gas to get
there too.” Jimmy said.

The car behind him tapped its horn once more. Jimmy levered
open the door jumped out and started to turn back to the car but Deidre caught
his arm.

“Baby, you’ll get us in trouble. We’ll get caught,” she said
as she pulled him away.

The guy in the car rolled his window up quickly. Jimmy
smiled at him, flipped him off again and then turned back to Deidre and Amy.
“Lucky for that little fuck,” he said. “Come on.” He held the driver’s door
open as first Amy and then Deidre crawled across to the passenger’s side and
then turned and looked back at the car. The young guy behind the wheel refused
to look back. Jimmy flipped him off again and then climbed back into his truck.

~

“What does it look like,” Bob Travers asked? He was at his
own desk but he called up a view of the latest National Weather Service radar
on his monitor.

Rebecca Monet leaned closer to the monitor, her breasts
brushing against his shoulder as she did. “It could be the big one. It’s
building fast and they are already predicting a path that will bring it right
to us,” She told him. “I want to be the one that gets it if it does. I mean, I
know I’ll have it at first but if it goes big I want to keep it instead of it
going to Bethany,” she said in a low voice, nearly a whisper.

Bethany Jacobs was the anchor woman for Channel Eight News.
She sat next to Bob during the newscasts. He had his pick of the big stories
and left the rest to Bethany.

“Becca, you know I can’t do that,” Bob said in an equally
low voice.

“Bullshit,” she said sweetly and smiled. “I know what your
contract says. You schedule. You appoint. It’s your call.” Her breasts pressed
more firmly against his shoulder. “Come on, Bob. I’m good. I can do it. You
know I can,” Rebecca pleaded. Her hand came up and rested lightly on his upper
arm. Her perfume was subtle but intoxicating.

“Bethany will go ballistic,” Bob whispered.

“So what,” Rebecca said.

“We have a …. A sort of,” Bob started.

“I know. It’s not like it’s a secret.” Her hand stroked his
bicep. “I would do anything you want, Bob,” she said. The weight of her breasts
against his shoulder suddenly seemed to increase tenfold. “I mean anything,”
she said leaning closer and whispering in his ear. Her lips brushed his ear.

“Are we talking about the same thing,” Bob asked, his voice
low. His eyes scanned the room looking to make sure no one was watching or eavesdropping.

“I’ve got a few minutes… I’m sure your dressing room is
empty. Let me show you what I’m talking about. I think we’re on the same page,”
Rebecca whispered. And this time her lips not only brushed against his ear they
seemed planted there.

“I… I can’t right now,” Bob said.

“Can’t stand up,” she asked with a musical little laugh.

“Something like that,” Bob agreed.

“I’ll meet you there… I’ll let myself in,” She asked?

Bob nodded. The weight of her breasts were instantly gone,
but the sound of her voice and the scent of her perfume were in his head. ‘Boy
was Bethany going to be pissed off,’ he thought. But Tad Edwards, the station
manager, had already dropped hints to him about seeing Rebecca work more, and a
few other hints about how he thought Bethany was not aging well, meaning to Tad
she was past her prime at twenty-seven and he thought it was time for a fresh
face. A younger face. Rebecca was all of twenty, and she was… He made himself
stop thinking about her. He had to, or else, he told himself, he’d never be
able to get up.

‘Man oh Man was Bethany ever going to be pissed off,’ he
told himself again.

~

Paul lay in Jane’s bed. He had left early this morning on
the pretext of having to go over the paper work for the yearend audit, and that
was partly true, but the real truth was that they had been getting less and
less time together and he had simply needed to be with her.

“We have got to go,” Jane said from beside him.

“I know,” Paul told her. Her body was pressed to his own,
one of his arms holding her to him. He didn’t let go. She felt so good. She
reached over and bit his chest softly.

“Ow,” Paul said… “Okay… Oh all right… Maybe tonight? I
could say I’m working late.”

“I can’t… You know I’ve got classes… Tomorrow?” She
countered.

He smiled “That will work.” His hand slipped down and rubbed
across her buttocks, squeezing gently and then, reluctantly, he let her go.

She held him a second longer and then kissed him before she
rolled away. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you to,” he said automatically. “I’ll go first?” He
headed for the shower and a few minutes later he was merging into traffic on I
65 and heading towards the Airport Road exit.

He and Janey had been an item for about a year. Paul Blevins
didn’t really think about it as cheating on his wife Peggy any longer. He was
pretty sure she was pursuing her own interests anyway. It just was.

He didn’t think too hard about the love aspect of the
relationship either. Sure, he told her he loved her, and he did. She had a
perfect body, and he loved it. And her attitude was great, he loved that too.
And she was completely devoted to him; how could he not love that? But, the
other kind of love: The kind that made you cry; made your heart ache? No. He
had loved Peggy like that at one time. He loved his daughter Deidre like that.
She could probably get anything at all out of him. But she didn’t abuse it. She
was a pretty good kid most of the time. Not out running around getting involved
in all the bad stuff that kids her age got involved in. He had no real concerns
or worries about her. All of his real love. The kind that could hurt him anyway
was reserved for her. She had never abused it and Paul didn’t think she ever
would; or could for that matter.

He and Peggy had fallen apart a few years before and there
seemed to be no way to fix it. Janey was pushing lately for them to be
together. Her little boy, Lincoln, who was just two years old, already thought
of Paul as his father. And Paul supposed that eventually he and Janey would
probably be together.

Deidre had about six months of school left and then she
would be off to college. Local if he had his way, New York if Peggy’s father
had his way. And there was not too much that Peggy’s father did not get his way
on. Money did talk and he had a lot of it.

Either way there was no reason to stay after Deidre was
gone. There would be nothing there. It would feel too weird sleeping in the
same bed, keeping up the charade. For what? For whom? They really only kept up
the pretense now for Deidre’s sake. If she was gone, what would be the point?

There would be no point, he told himself. Janey would most
likely get her way… Sooner rather than later.

The radio played low as he drove, and he listened as he
watched traffic. Nothing much new. A tropical depression building off the coast
of Africa. A big One. One that bore watching the weatherman said. Maybe it
would be something, Paul thought, but he doubted it. They almost always slipped
off and shot up the coast or veered off and hit Louisiana or Texas. Most
likely this one would too.

He came to a near dead stop in a long line of cars making
their way onto Airport Road. Janey would be along in another thirty minutes or
so. With Peggy’s fathers’ money it wasn’t a good idea to make themselves an easy
target. On the surface Peggy might not seem to care, but Paul suspected she had
to be thinking about the future too. Six months from now was the future. Or the
end of their future. Six months from now, divorce most likely, and he didn’t
mean to make it easy for her. So they were careful. Never leaving at the same
times. Not being seen together.

The only reason he had stuck it out these last few years was
Deidre. He wanted no custody dispute that she would be dragged into. No loss of
seeing her. Peggy and her father’s money could make him look bad. Take her
away. That would kill him, and he knew it. She knew how much it would hurt him,
which is exactly why she would do it. For Spite. For payback. Women were like
that. Women whose fathers had deep pockets were even more like that, he
thought. He had no doubt that had he pulled the plug a few years ago she would
have made sure he never saw Deidre again until she was old enough to make her
own decisions: By then Peggy may have poisoned her mind completely.

He could do without Peggy, Jane too, but not Deidre. So here
he was, day after day. Six months to go and it would all be over. He inched
forward through the traffic trying to clear his mind as he went.

The audit. Now there was a sobering thought. Janey really
was helping with the audit. He had bought her in. It was a mess. There were
real problems there. Problems that would take Janey to fix if he could convince
her to do it for him. She was helping. Going through the mounds of paperwork.
She was smart, she would see it. He would let it be her idea. He hoped it would
be her idea. He pushed the thoughts away.

The line of cars suddenly poured onto Airport Road, and he
sped up just making it out and merging into the middle lane at the expense of a
blaring horn and a pissed off driver of a beverage delivery truck who had not
wanted to let him in. He made the left lane finally, signaled at the light and
cut across the feeder road and then into the restaurant parking lot.

A few cars, and for the second time in as many weeks a moving
van was parked in the lot. Companies did that all the time, but he could not
remember if there was a moving company nearby with that name. Peggy was what he
was thinking of. Peggy and her father’s deep pockets. Her father’s money that
could hire a private detective to follow him. To poke around. Six months, he
reminded himself as he parked, got out and walked to the restaurant. She could
do as she pleased with daddy’s money after that.

He whistled as he walked to the door, unlocked it and
stepped inside the restaurant.

~

Dave Plasko shot the ball under his knee and across to Steve
Minor. They had tried letting Darren Reed, who was part of their little group,
play but he was too slow mentally to keep up. It confused him and then it
panicked him, and once he was panicked, he might do anything: Best to let him
watch from the sidelines as he was now.

Steve caught the ball, faked left then walked himself to the
right, put the ball up and it kissed the rim as it went through.

“That’s it. You dudes are done,” Dave said.

“Another one?” Light said. “One more?”

“Got to work, Light,” Dave said. “Outside clearance. Can’t
fuck that up. We’ll play when I’m back this afternoon.”

“Now, how is it you three white boys got that all sewn up,”
Light asked?

“Hmm… We’re white? … It’s Alabama? How the fuck should I
know. This is your fucked up state not mine, Light. You know we ain’t on that
shit.” Dave told him.

Light bounced the ball across the small basketball court
that was just off the main prison yard, and into the Recreation box on the
other side.

“Yeah. If you could only play that fuckin’ good all the
time…” Dave joked.

“I do, New York. You motherfuckers just cheat too goddamn
much,” Light laughed.

The yard gate opened and Jack Johnson, an overweight
correction officer stepped in and looked around the yard. “What the fuck,
Plasko,” he asked when his eyes fell on him. “You and your girlfriends ready to
go to work or not? I ain’t got all goddamned day you know.”

“Later,” Plasko told Light. They touched fists. “On our way,
Mister Johnson,” he called out. He looked to Darren and Steve and the three of
them headed across the rec yard to the gate…

Like it? Buy the manuscript. I have the entire novel written about ten thousand words transcribed into my Microsoft Word software. I don’t use A.I., I actually write very prolifically. I have many other stories and novels written or can and will write on demand.

My Ghostwriting page: https://writerz.net/public/2024/04/05/hire-a-multi-genre-ghostwriter/

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