Friday, October 30, 2009

and the rain came down.

I sat around all day watching Sara sit around. A few people came by to have their books signed. A few even chatted with Sara for a few minutes. Sara's expression would change often. She was fully engaged in the task at hand. She didn't seem to think herself above her readers, I liked that about her. Even though we spoke very little, I took a liking to her.

Her manager was a different thing all together. The woman seemed to have an angle on everything. Even lunch was a photo op for her. The delivery boy wore a pizza restaurant uniform, you know one of those red striped shirts. He handed Sara a pizza and she handed him a book. Of course there was a photographer right there to capture the memory. It was all so cornball, I spent a lot of time biting off laughter.

The whole day was a total bore. As a matter of fact all ten days were. There were no crowds to hold back, except at a couple of talk shows. At those times the show's security people handled everything. Just like most real jobs, in the real world, it was a boring way to make a living.

The one interesting thing that happened took place on the last day. If it had not been the last day, I would never have done what I did. I take my responsibilities seriously, but it was late afternoon on the last the last day, so it just happened.

It was cold and rainy in New York. I stood just inside the doorway of the bookstore looking out into the dark miserable day. I saw the Hispanic kid and his dog as they passed. Since the book store was beside an upscale department store, I was a bit surprised when the kid tied the dog to a signpost. He almost made it to the door of the department store before I made a move.

"Hey, you aren't going to leave that dog out in the rain are you?"

"Why?" the kids asked.

"Because it cold as hell and the dog shouldn't be out in the rain. Take him in, or take him home, but get him out of the rain."

The kid wasn't as young as I thought. He walked toward me before he answered. "You mind your own fucking business."

"I'm making this my business. You either take care of that dog, or I'm going to take care of him for you."

"You touch my dog and I'll kill you," he said with pure malice in his voice. "You don't know who I am do you?"

"Nope, and I don't give a crap. You heard what I said, get that creature out of the rain and do it now." I tried to sound just as menacing as he had. I seriously doubted that I made it.

"The kid took two steps back and came out with a flip blade knife. Back off man or I'm gonna cut your balls off." People who stop in the middle of a potential fight to give a warning are complete idiots. Once he pulled that knife, he should have moved toward me not away.

He gave me the time and space to raise the cane forcefully. I could have tried to break his arm with the first strike, but frankly his testicles were an easier target. I heard the pop as the weighted cane struck his tight jeans. Then he got very pale and went to his knees.

He was no threat on his knees trying to decide whether to scream, cry, or barf but I broke his arm anyway. No sense wasting a chance to make damn sure there was no more fight left in him. Of course, being able to punish him a little was a nice little bonus. I looked around and noticed for the first time that a small crowd had gathered.

"Somebody should have told him not to screw around with the handicapped." The people began to laugh. I'm taking his dog into that bookstore. If anybody feels the need to call a cop, I'll be in there drying this guy off."

"What about him," a women holding red umbrella asked. "Shouldn't you call him an ambulance or something."

"Hey," I said touching him with my foot. He looked up pretty miserable. I know I should have felt sorry for him, but I didn't. After all he did pull a knife on me. I spoke in a whisper. "The lady thought I should call you an ambulance. So you're a fucking ambulance." I know it was evil, but I had always wanted to do that. Sometimes you have to stop, even in the rain, to smell the roses. Not to mention kick an ass hole when he is down.


The dog was a pit bull. Even with his scars he came along peacefully. He was happy to be out of the rain. Sara had seen at least part of the commotion from the door of the book store. When I stepped inside, she took the leash from my hand without asking. She and the dog disappeared into the ladies room. She had absolutely no fear of the dog, even though his face was covered with scars.

I stood shivering in the bookstore while dripping water all over the hardwood floor. I would have expected the manager to complain, but instead he brought me a roll of paper towels. The teenager from the coffee counter brought me a bar towel. I never did get warm but at least I got my skin as dray as possible.

"What are you going to do with him? You can't take him on the plane." Sara asked upon her return.

"I guess I'll rent a car and drive home." I kept Sara and the dog between me and the door, so I was the first to see them enter. Two guys with tattoos and biker jackets would tend to make any upscale bookstore customer nervous. Even I was thinking seriously of the knife in my sock.

"Is that your dog?" It was the biggest of them who asked.

"He is now," I replied.

"Well, if you are from around here, you should be careful. Guys like his last owner don't like to lose face."

"Then you're telling me I should have just killed him."

"It might have been easier. Now if you want, we can take care of the dog and find him a good home." He said it as he slipped his hand into his pocket.

Instead of coming out with a gun or knife, it was a business card. According to the card, he and his friend were part of a hard core biker animal rescue group. I laughed at the image his card created in my frost bitten brain. Yeah it was a nervous laugh, but still a laugh. "If you can find him a good home, he's yours."

The smaller, greasier one took the leash from Sara. She smiled timidly at him.

"I can tell by the drawl you're from down south. If you are going to stay around a while, I'd like to buy you a drink." It was the big one speaking again.

"I wish I could, but I have to escort the ladies to the airport, then get on a plane myself."

"Too bad," he said.

I never did see a cop. I found it encouraging that a crowd of fifty people saw it all, and no one felt as though a cop was needed. If it had not been a helpless dog, I wonder if they would have acted differently. People tend to take animal abuse pretty damn serious. Well unless the abuser plays football.

prep work

I had this strange feeling that I was being used. What I was being used for I had no idea, but most likely it had to do with selling more books. Since Sara Marlow wasn't some kind of political hack, like most of the recent best sellers, she would have to come up with another angle to sell her books. It was possible that I was going to be the angle. I didn't like it, but since I wasn't breaking any conditions of my parole. I went along for the ride. I called my P.O. for permission because this one just didn't smell right.

I explained to her that I had been asked to provide some security consulting for a book tour. I also explained that I would not carrying a firearm. All I was going to do was to make recommendations to keep the writer safe. She didn't need to know that I would be more directly involved. Since gainful employment was one of the markers used to measure my progress, she was thrilled. She didn't need to know the details of how I got the gig. I doubted that she would approve of even a splinter offshoot of swamp thing being involved in my life again. Liberals really hated swamp thing and all it stood for. Me, I just liked to get paid.

After the author's manager headed off to her room, I got a cab at the curb. "Take me to the closest Walmart," I demanded. He didn't seem to approve of my destination, but I just didn't care. Since I had to fly commercial in order to meet the time restraint, I couldn't bring any of my toys.

I moved a buggy through the aisles of Walmart as efficiently as possible. I actually knew what I wanted, it was just a matter of finding everything. First I bought a hollow metal cane from one of the aisles near the pharmacy. Then I bought a couple of bags of aquarium sand and gravel. Two large candles also found their way into my buggy. A couple of rolls of black tape, along with a set of heavy weight steak knives joined the cane and sand. In the hardware department I found their smallest dremel set. I made sure that it had the set of tiny implements before I put it in the buggy.

In the sporting goods section I found a target master sling shot. I'm not real sure slingshot is technically the right name for it, but it said that on the box. I added a large box of marbles to the buggy. After all a slingshot needs ammunition. My purchases came to less than the cab ride. It didn't matter I was just glad thats I could find everything with just one stop. I could have bought more things, but my few purchases were likely be more than enough.

It was very late when I finished changing the Walmart items into weapons of self defense. With the addition of the aquarium sand and gravel to the hollow cane, I had added a couple of pounds of weight . I used the candle wax to plug the ends. That and the return of the plastic caps to their places at the ends of the cane left nothing to indicate that any changes had been made.

The steak knives were still suitable for carving, but I didn't have T-bone in mind. None of the knives maintained their handles. I used the black electrical tape to cover the metal shank, which had once been encased in plastic. The knives were easier to conceal without the thick plastic handles.

A little careful work with the dremel tool and I had reshaped two of the knives. I added a good point and thinned out the blades a bit. They weren't exactly competition quality throwing knives, but I knew from experience that they would do in a pinch. Two of the others had no point, but were much sharper once I finished with them. They would do quite well for slashing away at an enemy, if it came to that. I figured anything over four knives was overkill, so I stopped there. It was late, and I was tired, so I turned it. There were the usual dreams but they weren't any worse than most nights, so I slept pretty well.

When I woke at seven the next morning, the message light was lit on my phone I had slept almost an hour longer then I would have managed at home. I didn't have to try to revive a fire in the motel, so I was able to sleep in. The message informed me that my little group would assemble at 9am for breakfast in the motel restaurant. I showed up half an hour early and the rest of the group showed up a half hour late. It was not a good beginning.

Sara Marlow looked very different in real life. She was not so professionally made up. Her face looked almost faded as did the rest of her. Her hair was washed out blonde but obviously colored by someone who was good at their job. Her body, as I had guessed from the photographs, was several pounds over weight. Not so much as to be unattractive just enough to be noticeable.

The manager made the introductions. "Sara this is Richard Ames. Mr, Ames, Sara Marlow."

"Hello Miss Marlow," I said extending my hand to her.

She shivered when she took my hand. "Is anything wrong?" I asked that more as a courtesy, than from any real concern."

"Nothing," she said self consciously.

"So, what is the plan for today?" I asked it of the manager.

"Sara will be signing books and talking to fans at the Barnes and Noble in their downtown store."

"What are the times?"

"Noon until 7PM," Sara replied.

"Very well, I'm going to head on down to the store. I want to look around before you arrive. I should know more when I have a chance to talk to the manager." Since there had been no specific threat, I felt just fine leaving them to make their way to the store on their own. I was pretty confident that I was no more than window dressing. I felt that the whole thing was no more than a huge publicity stunt. Somewhere along the line there would be a TV interview or something like it.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

nuts and bolts

"Ricky it's me Betty Jo." She was very cheerful for a Monday morning. That meant she had bad news to deliver to me.

"You sound mighty chipper did someone die?"

"I don't know, have you been out and about?" The insinuation was in her voice.

"You know I don't kill people any more."

"It's the, any more, part that keeps your parole officer up nights."

"So what on your mind BJ?"

"You know I hate when you call me that. You only do it when you don't need money."

"Not true, I do it whenever you have that all full of yourself tone of voice. So what is it that your Ivy league security people can't do?"

"You ever heard of Sara Marlow?"

"No, should I have?"

"Don't you ever watch TV?"

"They don't have cable this far out. They barely have electricity. I catch the news and a few old TV shows or a movie on line.?"

"Sara is making the talk show rounds. She is a big deal psychic."

"Sorry, I never heard of her."

"Well she has heard of you. Of course maybe it is just her manager who has heard of you."

"What the hell is that all about?"

"Beats me, but they want to hire us to guard Sara during a book tour, but only if you are the bodyguard."

"Why me?"

"I don't know, but they are willing to pay the rate times two for you."

"That makes no sense."

"None at all, but the boss said to offer it to you. The decision is yours. The boss is afraid that it is some kind of scam."

"Sure does sound like it."

"If you want it, drop me an email before lunch. I have to give her an answer. I will email you the details, if you want it."

"Is she for real?"

"Who knows, I do know she is making big bucks at it. She has been for some times, so it isn't just a media hard sell. They have a hold on the tail and are chasing the dog."

"How long is the book tour?"

"About two weeks," Betty Jo said.

"Oh hell, send me the info. Tell her she has a body guard."

"Ricky, When you get there, if this looks hinky just say no and leave."

"You can count on it. When does the gig start?"

"Not till Wednesday. You have to meet them Wednesday night at the hotel in DC. The book tour starts there with a couple of days of book signings. Then there is a book TV show over the weekend. There might be some sight seeing involved."

"Right," I replied pushing the disconnect button immediately.

Since I had a couple of days, and it was squirrel season, I decided to go stake out a spot. Finding squirrels around the shack was nothing more than walking into the woods out back. Fifty paces then sit on a fallen log and wait. That was all it took. Killing one of them was a different story entirely.

It was a condition of my parole that I not own a firearm. I had absolutely no desire to go back inside, so I avoided the possibility that some game warden would bust me. I did my hunting without firearms. It actually was more challenging to hunt with a crossbow.

Yes I had a collection of crossbows. Some I made myself, some I bought new, and some I bought to restore. It was as good a hobby as any. On that Monday morning I chose a fiberglass bow with a light action. Light meaning the draw weight was around 150lbs thus it released the bolt at a slower speed. One of the high draw weight bows, about 400 lbs, would embed even a blunted bolt into a tree. I tried not to fill the trees around my house with alum bolts. I sure as hell had no desire to climb a tree in order to recover a piece of alum tubing.

The low tension bow fired a ten inch bolt. The bolts from that light in the ass crossbow traveled at only about twenty miles per second. About half the speed of a normal crossbow, if there were such a thing. The bolt would hold it's trajectory for about twenty yards before it dropped much.

I packed the bow and five bolts into the woods. Once in place I spanned the bow,inserted the bolt and waited. The crossbow was a replica of an 11th century bow. It was made with modern materials. As a replica it had no safety. The nut could be tickled accidentally so I kept it pointed downrange at all times.

Since I had painted the bolts fire engine red, they were fairly easy to find, unless they got tangled in a tree. I fired three bolts, all of them missed their marks. Since I recovered them all, even though I didn't kill anything, I considered it a successful hunt.

Later that day I got the details of the job. It was just as Betty Jo said, I was to baby sit the psychic. Betty Jo sent along a few publicity pictures for me. I suppose it was so that I could recognize the client without a lot of hoop or la. The client was attractive enough but not gorgeous. She really seemed to be more pleasant looking than anything else. From the pictures she seemed to be around my age. At the time I was thirty three so give or take a couple of years she was around thirty five.

I was met in the lobby of the Airport Hilton, located just outside the Ronald Regan International Airport, by Sara's business manager. Since I didn't have his picture, he had to recognize me. I thought I might have to wear a rose in my lapel but obviously he had seen a picture of me.

"Mr Ames," The thin man said as he approached me. "I'm Edward Wilson. You can call me Eddie."

"Alright Eddie, before we waste any time let me advise you that I do not carry firearms. I also am not a marshal arts expert. That being said, I'm not quite sure why you asked for me."

"Sara would agree to a bodyguard only if he was not armed. She has a thing about men with guns."

"What kind of thing?"

"She thinks that she will be killed on this trip by a man with a gun."

"If I felt that way, I would want a man with a cannon." I meant it.

"I agree, but she is convinced that it is fate. She agreed to have you with us on the tour just to make sure no one else gets hurt. I chose you, because I have been told that you are competent even without a firearm."

"Well I am still alive." I gave it some thought before I went on. "Does Ms Marlow have any reason to feel that she is in danger?"

"She is a psychic. She doesn't need any evidence. She says that she just knows this trip is going to be the end of her."

"If she feels that strongly, why do it?"

"She is on a mission. A mission to have her book read by as many people as possible. She does not want to leave her daughter the legacy of a fraud, but of a woman who can see things others can't. She will go anywhere and do anything to further that goal. "

"To be honest she sounds a little out in left field, but I will do what I can to make sure she is wrong about this trip."

"That's all I can ask," Eddie said with an inappropriately wide smile.

I just hate when people send inappropriate signals.

Monday, October 26, 2009

trees and hot dogs

On that Monday morning I was at my shack in the woods where I spent my time fishing, hunting, and doing just as little real work as possible. One of the things I had to do was to cut wood for the winter. It was simple, do that amount of work or freeze to death in my bed.

So first thing that morning, I was off to cut down a tree. The tree was on a piece of property owned by an old family friend. He had been sort of a drop in caretaker of the shack while I was away. Away being two years in a country where they still killed people for fun, then five years in a U. S. federal prison for shooting one of the locals in the back. At least they had the decency to put me in a country club prison. I should have gotten a medal, but I got ten to twenty for murder.

You just can't mix politics and bullets. Unfortunately I learned that a little late in life. What would have gotten me a medal one day, got me a felony record the next. Yes I am bitter as hell about it. If I had been on a federal payroll, I would have gotten a slap on the wrist. Since I was working for an oil company, I got arrested. At the time the left wingers thought all oil company employee were part of the devil's horde.

I bring this up because I had an afternoon appointment with my parole officer. Even she knew it was all bullshit. Still the rules are the rules she had informed me on our first meeting. She had to assess whether I was likely to go shooting anyone else while still on parole. To do that I was supposed to go in once a week, but she changed it to once a month.


"Hey Rex, thought I'm come take down that tree for you," I suggested.

"Help yourself. If you are going to haul it off in the jap pickup, you are going to have to make a lot of trips."

"Yeah I know, that's one big mother of a tree."

Rex shook his head. If his long gray hair hadn't been so greasy, it would have moved like a TV commercial. Instead it stayed pretty much in place.

The tree he wanted taken down had been dead long enough so that the wood would be usable instantly. It would burn quickly, but it wouldn't soot up the chimney. It was a trade off. I had some green oak, which I could burn over night. It would burn slower and hold the fire better.

I planned to get the tree on the ground before I went to my meeting with the P.O. To accomplish it I had borrowed a chain saw from another friend. The chain saw was a large one so it made the first cut pretty quickly. After cutting the 1/4 notch on the north side of the tree, I move around to the south side and made the cut that would have brought the tree down. That is if it hadn't been so large. The saw started to choke about half way into the trunk. That left me with a pretty good sized piece of the tree I couldn't reach.

I began working the wedges into the tree. Between the wedges and a couple of cuts on the sides, the tree finally broke off. Since I didn't top it first, it was a risky trip down to the ground. If it had gotten hung in the neighboring trees, I would have been in a world of crap. I got lucky or maybe my planning was better than I thought, Either way it fell right where I had hoped that it would.

I had never cut such a large tree, but since my dad had grown up in a lumber camp, I has some idea what I was doing. It also might have been in the genes. I laughed at that thought. I spent what little time I had left stripping the tree of dead limbs. Those would make good kindling.

"So Richard, what have you been up to since our last meeting?" My P.O. was at least fifty pounds over weight. She might have been attractive without the excess weight, and if she were a few years younger. As it was she reminded me of my old main aunt.

"Oh I caught about twenty pounds of catfish last week. This morning I cut down a tree."

"Good, it sounds like you are staying out of trouble."

"Oh I am." I had never told her about Executive Security Company. She didn't need to know everything. My deal with them was a cash under the table arrangement. E.S.C was a twig of the same tree I fell from in the middle east. I suppose it was their idea of looking after their own.

"That's good to hear. So are you looking for a job yet?"

"You know the payout package from the 'Swamp Thing' got invested in their stock. It sat there growing while I was in the joint. War is a good investment it seems. I don't need to work for a while." I said it hoping she would believe that it was true. Well technically it was true.

"In the joint. I would hardly call the facility you did your time in, the joint."

"Well whenever I can't make a midnight snack, it is prison to me."

"You don't seem to have gained any weight since your release."

"No, I still can't make a snack. I keep forgetting to buy anything to snack on." I didn't mention that it was a constant struggle to keep my weight down.

"Well stay out of trouble and I'll see you on the 21st of next month."

"Yes Ma'am." She was in a hurry to move on to her next parolee, so I left the room quickly. I was in just as big a hurry to get out of the federal building.

Just like always I walked two blocks to the Dog House restaurant. I ordered three hot dogs with everything, then moved to a rear corner to eat. The Diet Coke was the only concession to my attempt to keep my weight down.

The black kid came in carrying a shotgun. He was big for his age but obvious still a teenager. He was also waving the shotgun around like a character from a bad 1940 movie. I had seen a few of those over the years. He had probably picked that time of day because the place was almost empty. He demanded the contents of the register. The cashier tried to get it open but she was terrified so the register got jammed.

"Open the fucking register or I'm going to blow your head off." He said that way to loud. I didn't want to know what he was thinking, but he had told me anyway. He was scared and he just might shoot the cashier in his a panic state of mind. The odds were about fifty, fifty that she was going to die. If he did that, leaving witnesses would be stupid.

I told myself that I should sit there and do nothing. I was about thirty feet from him, so it made no sense at all for me to do anything but mind my own business. I had probably seen too many movies. I know I had seen it done in at least three or four. Yes I had practiced it for hours, so it wasn't something out of the blue that I just came up with.

I yelled, "Cops." Then I threw the heavy cut glass sugar holder at him. She swung the shotgun toward me. I had hoped to hit him square in the face with the sugar holder, but it missed. I did hit him a glancing blow, which gave me a chance to move toward him. I was much faster then his decision making ability. If he had been a trained killer, I would have been very dead.

When the shotgun went off, it was in the direction of the ceiling. I had him on the floor with the gun butt on his throat when the owner came from the kitchen. He took a slow look around and said to me, "You gonna' have to pay for that hole in my ceiling."

"In a pigs ass," I whispered.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

flash fiction faux kidnapping

As usual when the call came, I was covered in grease. I wasn't always covered in grease, but Betty Jo ,seemed to know just the wrong times to call. I looked at the caller ID before I answered, so I knew who was on the line. "Hello Betty Jo, what's on the schedule now."

"You aren't going to like it," she said with a smile in her voice. Betty Jo loved to rattle my cage.

"Then I just won't do it," I suggested. I wasn't her employee, even though almost all my real income came from Executive Security Company.

"Of course you can refuse any assignment, I have just never seen you do it. You are my most trusted agent."

"Then why do I always get the crap nobody else wants?"

"Because, my dear Richard, you don't have a squeaky clean background." We both knew what she meant, so I didn't bother to ask for an explanation.

"That is true enough, but you don't seem to mind when it is a crap job."

"Only the crap jobs, as you call them, will accept you."

"Yeah I know, so what is it this time?"

"Just another brief case delivery."

"Really is it legal?"

"If it were legal, I could get one of the others to do it."

"One of these days I'm going to get jacked up, and I'm taking you all with me."

"You might be planning to try, but I doubt that you will. There are far to many perks to taking the heat all by yourself."

"Money isn't much good to a man in prison."

"Then don't get caught doing anything illegal," Betty Jo said.

"So give me the details," I demanded. There was no sense arguing with Betty Jo. She had all the answers. I was the unarmed man in the battle of wits.

"There will be a ticket to Atlanta at the airport for you. You have two hours to make it to the airport."

"How about my gear?"

"You will have to improvise. That's what you do best isn't it?"

"So you keep telling me. Is anyone going to meet my plane?"

"The client will send someone. Good luck Richard."

Betty Jo was right about one thing. I didn't like riding shotgun in a money drop. It wasn't just dangerous, it was working with a civilian. Most often it was working with someone who was in a highly agitated state of mind as well. Not only that it was someone who thought that for the five grand, they should get a nursemaid, an assassin, and someone to solve all of his or her problems.

I cleaned up as best I could, then topped off the travel bag. The quarter size black duffel bag stayed mostly packed all the time. The working gear, that could pass through airport screening, stayed in the bag. I added a couple of shirts and some underwear.

From the time I got Betty Jo's call until I left my shack in the woods less than an hour had passed. I arrived at the local airport just in time to clear security. The flight down was uneventful, and it even arrived on time.

The woman, who held the sign with my name on it, looked no more than twenty. She had to be an employee, it was obvious that she hadn't put up five grand for an escort.

"Richard Ames," I said to her. She didn't speak just nodded. Since I always carried the small duffle bag onto the plane, we were out of the terminal in moments. We were in the Limo when she finally spoke. "Mr. Ames, I work for Mr. Richie's firm. He asked me to meet you and fill you in on the way to his office." That time I just nodded.

"Mr. Richie's son Edward has been abducted. Since Mr. Richie is a well known criminal lawyer, he fears one of his less law abiding clients in involved. We have defended some rather nasty characters over the years. He called your boss to arrange for someone to actually make the drop."

"So Mr. Richie won't be going along. is that okay with the kidnapper?"

"They were still negotiating that point when I left for the airport."

"Either way it's all the same to me." I replied. Actually I preferred to go alone.

"Mr. Ames," the just past middle-aged man in the five thousand dollar suit said as a greeting.

"Mr. Richie, I presume." It was the best I could do at being serious. Richie might be my better in some things, but we were playing on my turf. At that moment he was the rookie.

"Yes, Jay Jay filled you in I hope." He nodded to the woman as a signal for her to leave.

"She gave me the bones."

"Do you need more?"

"That depends on what you expect me to do."

"Deliver the brief case with the money and then bring my son home. Not more no less."

"Then you don't want me to make the arrangements?"

"No, the meet is set." I didn't like that at all. I would have preferred to set up the exchange myself. "I need to see the place where the exchange will be made before I walk in there."

"I'm not sure that is such a good idea. They said to play it straight or my son would die. They may be watching the site."

"If I can't see what I'm walking into, then you can take the money yourself, or maybe send in Jay Jay." I gave him a minute, When he didn't respond, I turned to the door. It wasn't a bluff. Seeing the spot in advance was the bare minimum of preparation I would accept.

"Alright, I'll have Jay Jay take you."

"In her car not the limo," I answered emphatically.

"Very well," he replied.

The car was a modern midsize piece of plastic. It wouldn't stand out at all. The exchange was to be near the car parking area of a small upscale neighborhood park. I could imagine how it would go down. The kidnapper would see the money, then he would bring the kid, and it would be done.

Of course, it stank to high Buddha. If it went down that way, I would see one of the kidnappers and their car. The car could be stolen of course, and the kidnapper could be disguised, but it still seemed very amateurish. Amateurs worry me, because they are easily spooked.

Something about it just plain reeked. No kidnapper, no matter how amateurish, would bring the kid to the meeting. Just too much chance the cops could roll them up right after the kid was delivered. Richie had to know that as well. Something about this was really ripe.

If it was a fake, why would he need someone else to deliver it. No he really thought there was some danger in the delivery. The kidnappers had to know for a fact that Richie was going to go along. How could they know that he wouldn't call the FBI?

The only answer that made sense was that it wasn't a kidnapping. It was a simple exchange. Money was going to be exchanged for something of value. Something Richie didn't want the cops to see. Something being held by a dangerous man. The kidnapping was just a ploy to prevent anyone from knowing that he was being blackmailed. He would get sympathy instead of whatever he would get, if the information got out.

The fact that it was blackmail only mattered to me, because it meant that it could be really bad guys making the exchange. It ruled out some friend of his son's trying to make a quick buck. It also meant that I could expect the blackmailer to act reasonably. That is as reasonably as blackmailers act.

After a good piece of steak at a nice restaurant, I went to the park. I sat on the concrete bench as I had been told. I also tried to read the newspaper, as I had also been instructed.

"You got something for me," the woman with the baby stroller asked.

"Yes, do you have a package for me?"

"It's in the stroller."

"You managed to get a teenager in the stroller?"

"What teenager? I have an envelope in the stroller, that's what this is all about."

"I need to call the client to be sure that is what he is paying for," I suggested.

"Okay, but do you see that man by the green car?"

"Yes, I assume that he will shoot me, if I don't hand over the money?"

"That's right," she said.

"You know that bluff would work on a lot of people. It just won't on me. But lady it's not my money. Let me call the man, if he says do it, then it's your money as far as I'm concerned."

I made the call on my cell phone. "So this isn't your son after all, it's about saving your ass. Do you want me to make the exchange for an envelop."

"If the envelop has a pistol inside, do it," Richie demanded.

I opened the brief case and took one of the money packets. "Call this my charge for being threatened."

"The deal is off." she said angrily. She tried to remove something from her purse. I knew it was a weapon. Even though she hadn't been expecting me to lift the money, I had been expecting her to pull something. I had a very heavy, thick blade steak knife. It was a souvenir left over from lunch. I spun her around, then I held the steak knife to her throat. I also arranged her so that her body shielded me from the car park.

I carefully reached into the stroller to remove the thick manila envelop. The envelop had some large, heavy metal object inside. That was a good thing, since papers can be copied easily, hard evidence is another thing altogether. I walked backwards while dragging her along the bike path until I was out of sight of the car park. I pushed her hard and climbed aboard the Wal-mart Mountain bike. I had hidden it in the trees before I went to lunch. It's the kind of thing you can walk away from, if all goes as planned, if not you can use it as an escape vehicle. Obviously, I was riding it into the sunset. As Betty Jo said, I knew how to improvise.

"What have you done?" Richie asked.

"I saved you eighty grand, and I got your pistol."

"Those people will kill me."

"If they wanted to kill you, they wouldn't have blackmailed you. Just tell them I dropped off the pistol, and you had no idea that I stole the money. Tell the rest is between them and me. It's a total win, win for you."

When it sank in he asked, "Don't you want to know why the pistol is so important?"

"Hell no." I said.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Im going to take a break for a while

It's time for me to take a break from writing. I don't know exactly what I'm going to do next but I will probably keep the blog up as something else.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

The payoff was scheduled for 7pm. Reverend Write and I sat on the front pew waiting for our blackmailer. The church door opened a few minutes after seven. I saw the women walk toward the Reverend and me. She wore a dress, either specially for the occasion, or because she was comfortable in one. I expected her to be in shorts and some kind of small top. I should have known better.

The jilted wife was about fifty pounds over weight. She had large soft breasts and a professional wrestlers body. Thick all the way from her shoulders to her knees. She did have nice hear if that was any consolation to her.

"Hello Monica," Reverend Wright said to great her. "This is my bother Thomas. I'm sure you have heard me mention him."

"Hello, Thomas your sister is a home wrecking whore," She said angrily. She was ignoring Edith. "So do you have it?"

"By it, do you mean the money?" I asked it wanting to have her say the words.

"Oh course I mean the money."

I handed her the envelope containing twenty thousand dollars. "Count it," I demanded.

"Why I trust you," Monica said belligerently.

"I want you to count it, then I want your word that you will not be back for more."

"Alright," she said opening the envelope. I watched as she counted the money. "It's all here." she said finally.

"So you have been paid and I don't expect you to threaten my sister again," I said angrily.

"No, I won't bother the husband stealing slut again."

"Good because if one word of this comes out, no matter who leaks it, you are going to jail." With those words I took the envelope.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Lucy," I said in a loud voice.

Lucy stood up in the balcony. She was still taping. "Lucy has been recording our little meeting. Would you like to see the tape, or do you still trust me."

"You son of a bitch," Monica said.

"Actually my mother was not a bitch, but that is immaterial at the moment. What is material is that the sentence for blackmail is ten yeas in state prison. So go on home and try to get the money somewhere else. It's time you looked to your husband for financial aid, not my sister."

Monica turned to Edith, then said, "God will get you for what you have done." With those words said, she turned and left the church quickly.

"Will that stop her?"

"It will stop her long enough for you to find another church."

"What do you mean?" Edith asked.

"You are going to start looking for a new church home. If you don't I will play that tape for the church elders myself."

"Dear God, you are blackmailing me too?"

"Such an ugly word. I think of it more as motivating you to do the right thing. These people deserve better than you as their pastor. I hope you have learned something and that you will take the lesson to your next church. But whether you have or not, you are leaving this one. How you leave is your only choice.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

After Edith left, I thought a lot more about her problem. I planned to front the money, then to take it back. I finished my coffee, then rode the bike back to my apartment. The warmth of the apartment was intoxicating after the chill of the ride. It lulled me to sleep. Actually I napped off and on through the afternoon.

I was still groggy when the knock on the door came. I was always very careful about answering the door. That time as usual it was Lucy. She had gotten my message left on her cell phone.

"So what did you do while I slaved over a hot library book?" she asked.

"I rode the bike to the park. I also spoke with a baptist preacher." I smiled at Lucy. She knew my feelings about organized religion. I went on to explain it all.

"Of all the gin joints in all the world why do you think she chose to contemplate the river in front of you?"

"Now that is a good question. Nobody knows what we have done. Do you think God sent her to me?"

"That's possible but more likely Becky sent her, or it really was just an accident."

"I'm going with accident." I replied.

"Me to," Lucy agreed. After a moment's thought she went on. "So how are we going to help her?"

"I think it's time for a little left handed english on our lil ole blackmailer."

"Okay, but you should know I don't have much sympathy for the Reverend Wright."

"I know, but one thing at a time. First we neutralize the blackmailer, then we discuss Reverend Wright."

Lucy being the media technician as well as the school librarian fit right into my plan. She took me shopping in exchange for a decent dinner at a nice Jacksonville restaurant. When we finished dinner, Lucy drove back to her house and my garage apartment. Since it wasn't one of those nights when she needed a shoulder to lean on, she went to her apartment and I went to mine.

On the second day of the preachers caper, I called to arrange for Lucy to have access to the church on Thursday evening. Lucy needed the time to do her thing.

I waited until Thursday night late to dig up the money. Twenty grand was just two stacks of bills. I really hated to use my own money as bait, but I didn't see how the reverend could come up with it without stealing it.

Lucy and I tested the equipment Friday before the meeting. According to Lucy everything was going to be fine. I hated it when she said that. I was just superstitious enough to expect the worst after her assures.

Monday, October 12, 2009

I was thinking furiously. "Edith, how do you know that she plans to spread it around."

"She told me of course," Edith replied thoughtfully.

"Well, why didn't she just do it rather than warn you. She wants something, or she would have just ruined you for spite. So what is it she wants?" It was not a rhetorical question. Lucy knew the answer she was holding back.

"Money, she and Edward are separated. She wants twenty thousand dollars from me or she will tell the congregation that I stole her husband."

My mind raced again. "Do you have that kind of money?"

"If I did, I would pay her. Ministers do not make a lot of money, in spite of what people think."

"But you do have access to it? The church funds, you do have the authority to tap into the till so to speak?"

"Yes but I can't do that. That money belongs to the people of my congregation. I can not take their money to buy my way out of this mess."

"Actually it would be the worst of all possible answers. When you couldn't make the next payment, or the next, you would still wind up in the river." I sat there thinking a little and knew the answer was pretty simple. I just had to somehow neutralize a blackmailer. "Do you have a relative that you have mentioned around the church, but who no one has ever met?"

She thought just a few minutes. "Yes there is an older brother."

"Go back home. When the wife calls, tell her you have arranged with your brother for the money. Tell her that he insists on delivering it in person. The money won't be here for a couple of days. Arrange a meeting in the church on Friday. Tell her to come alone, she would anyway, but I want to put in her mind that we are taking control away from her."

"I do not want this kind of thing to happen in my church?"

"Then all bets are off." I let her chew on that until she finally answered.

"Why does it have to be in the church?"

"For the very reason you said it couldn't be. She won't be as likely to expect anything other than a pay off in there. She certainly won't be worried about her safety."

"Should she be, I will not allow her to be harmed."

"She will be harmed, to what extent is up to her. She has crossed the line, just as you have. She can go back on her own, or we can nudge her. If that doesn't work, we can drag her back. If I do this, you have to trust me."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because it's trust me or you become a thief as well as an adulteress. Of course there is always the river."

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The first thing I did was to order coffee black for me, and one with cream and sugar for her. I looked at her closely while I waited for the coffee. She had to be around forty not a lot more or a lot less either. She was dressed conservatively in clothes that didn't scream either rich or poor. For the most part she just looked average.

She had short hair but not dyke short. It was more easy to care for short. She had good features but nothing stood out. She had a truly forgettable body. Small breasts and too large hips left me thinking half the women in the street on any given day. The hips were most likely from some kind of sit down job. She didn't look to be the outdoors type. Her complexion was a little toward the pale side.

"Is that gonna' be all Mr. Mike," the black teenager asked.

"It will be just fine Patricia. By the way how is school going."

"It's hard Mr. Mike. Working here all day and then classes at night."

"I know but one day you will be glad you toughed it out. You can say that you did something not many girls your age had the will, and the courage to do."

"You always have a good word for me. I appreciate that, and I do plan to stay with it. Mama will kick my butt if I quit."

"Well, we can't have that."

The stranger and I slipped into silence for a while. "You really are one of the good guys aren't you?" she asked.

"That depends on who you ask, I expect."

"Maybe you can help me."

"I said I could, and I almost never lie."

"Almost, that sounds promising. I was about to think you were a saint."

"Hardly a saint, I'm more like an old worn out sinner. All those hormones have finally calmed down, so now I can be the man my mom hoped I would be."

"Living up to someone else's expectations, it seems I have done that all my life."

"Well there is nothing wrong with that, if you don't go mad trying. It has been my experience, that too many people are trying to pull me in totally different directions all at the same time."

"Yes that's how I feel at times."

"The waitress told you my name what is yours?"

"Edith Wright," she said the paused to take a deep breath then continue. "Reverend Edith Wright actually."

"Oh really and what flavor are you." It took her a moment before the light went on in her eyes.

"Methodist," she replied.

"And does your problem have something to do with your position. Steal the money from the poor box."

"No nothing so cliche. Actually maybe it is a cliche. My husband left me for a younger woman. My daughter blames me for the divorce."

"Well he is an idiot, and she is also an idiot. Although she has an excuse. She is an inexperienced idiot."

"Thanks those are challenges that led to my problem, but my problem is a little more real than emotional."

"Okay what is this deep dark secret."

"I had an affair after the divorce." She paused then went on. "He is a member of my congregation."

"Ah, that's not good," I suggested trying to keep a straight face. I'm not very religious and find all the sins of the flesh committed by the clergy humorous.

"Worse, I have been couple counseling him and his wife," She looked down at her coffee cup.

"Are you still seeing him?"

"No, but his wife found out. She is going to tell everyone I know. My daughter will really be upset."

"Well you could explain your side of it first."

"I know and I will, but it will ruin me. I will lose my congregation."

"I would think so yes. If she does tell all, there is nothing I can do to keep your church. I guess, I will just have to kill you. There is one thing I might be able to do."

"What?" she asked.

"Maybe I can convince her not to tell anyone."

"How?"

"I have no earthly idea at the moment, but I'm sure something will come to me.

Friday, October 9, 2009

It took two more weeks but the girls did buy their print. I worked on more prints for the new show. I was more than satisfied with creating them just to pass the time. I didn't really care whether they were sold or stolen. I just wanted an excuse to shoot more of them. I charged a ridiculously large price I thought, but Lucy said they were still to cheap.

I sat by the river a couple of days later. There was a definite chill in the air on that October morning. I had been promised that the winter was going to mild, so the morning chill early in October was a bit disconcerting. I was about to leave when I saw her standing by the river. She looked a lot like someone about to jump in. It wasn't the kind of weather for a morning swim. I debated whether or not to speak to her. I made the decision because I thought she might jump. I knew for a fact, that I would go in to save her. It was just too damn cold for that.

"Excuse me Miss are you alright?" I spoke slowly with a lowered voice. I didn't want to frighten her. When she didn't respond I went on. "That water looks mighty cold."

"Please leave me alone," she replied.

"I can't do that unless you assure me you aren't going to jump into the river with a pocket full of rocks," I suggested.

"What's it to you anyway?"

"Well I work for the city. It's my job to scout all the likely spots in town. My job is to spot all the troubled people. If you go into the water, then I have to go in as well. Normally that would be fine. I like being a hero, but today I am coming down with a cold. I really would prefer you came back next week." I smiled to let her know for sure that it was a joke.

"I might not be in the mood next week," she said quietly.

"Oh if your problems are all that serious today, they likely will be next week." I smile as she turned to look at me. "If you like, I can try to help you with them."

"The only way you could help me would be to kill me."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You tell me your problem and if I can't solve it, I will kill you. I will do it a lot less painfully than drowning. How's that sound?"

She actually smiled. "Okay but you promise to help me one way or another?"

"Yes I promise. Now I don't know about you but I'm chilled to the bone. Let's go over to the diner across the street. The coffee is on me."

"Ah, a guardian angel who also picks up the tab. I think I'm going to like you." She didn't quite smile but she did seem to try.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

I was a little surprised to say the least. I swallowed hard then asked, "So what kind of shot did you have in mind?"

"Something tasteful of course," she suggested.

"Good, I wouldn't do any other kind." I though a minute then asked, "When and where would you like to do it."

"We could come to your place," she suggested.

"To be honest I don't have a studio. I just produce art to sell. I have never done this kind of thing, so we will have to play it be ear. Since I do the background by hand, anywhere at all will do."

"Okay, then come to our apartment."

"And where is your apartment?"

"Here in Jacksonville, if you have a piece of paper I can write out the address for you."

"Write your phone number down as well, so that we can work out a time for the shoot." The realization that I didn't have a way to keep the appointment, except to ride to it on the Tomas, struck me. It was the first time since I ran away from home that I really missed my car. I gave some thought to refusing the job, but then I decided that I really did want to do it. I'm just an average guy, so of course I wanted to see her and the friend naked.

When I told Lucy about it. She decided that since I needed a chaperon, she would drive me to the shoot.

On Monday I called to make the appointment. Then on Wednesday evening at 7pm, Lucy and I showed up at the apartment of Kimberly Adams and her friend. The friend was also female, just as I had expected. Two women can pose nude without it looking like porn. A man and a woman always look as if the have either just done it, or are about to do it. It's not overt, but the sexuality is there. No matter what you do to make it about the form, it is always about the sex.

The shoot went well. I shot over a hundred images. The two customers sat in robes while we previewed the images on their big screen TV. They made their choice, then they paid me for a larger print than Kimberly had first ordered. I was expecting the print to be something really special.

I had the sign a little different release than the one Lucy signed. The release they signed said, that if they did not like the finished print,I would return their money, but I could use it in a display or sell it if the opportunity arose.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Day two of the show was from noon on Sunday until five pm. The people who stopped by on Sunday were a different type completely. For the most part they were younger and seemed more interested in entertainment than in shopping. There was a surge of pretty conservative adults right after lunch, then a slightly louder more engaged group of shopper in the afternoon.

I had a lot more people stop and discuss my technique than I had the day before. I didn't hear anything about colors not matching the bathroom wallpaper. I felt better about that but I wasn't selling anything either. I did sell one smaller boat print to a couple. The couple who bought it were looking for something to hang in their foyer. It seemed that he was a boat owner and his wife bought it for him as a gift. He was standing with her when she wrote the check. I had her write it to my real name. Since it was only fifty dollars, and Lucy wasn't around, I expected that I could get away with it. I made a note to figure something out so that I didn't have to take checks.

It was after four when the middle aged woman approached me. She wasn't a beauty nor was she a dog. She was just an average looking woman one might see on the street at any time of the day.

"I love your paintings. I was wondering what you would charge to do one for me."

"You want to commission a painting?" I was shocked.

"Yes I suppose I do, if you aren't too expensive."

"What kind of painting and what size," I asked. I was stalling for time since being commissioned to work had never occurred to me. I needed time to decide what to charge.

"I would like a nude of my friend and me." She seemed to be thinking then she went on. "Something about this size," she said pointing to a print about 11x14.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Even with the speed of electronic ordering over the net, it took a week to get Lucy's paper prints. I had two copies of three different images made. I simply painted in a background for color and texture on the first copy of each. It was what would have been called a studio background in the old days. I did it using black and white oils which I mixed to various shades. Very subtle shade of red were hidden in the black and white mixture. It wasn't especially hard to do, but it was time consuming. Getting get just the right pattern while using the simple colors proved more difficult to execute than I would have imaged.

With the frame refinishing, the painting, and trimming of the prints, I managed to make the job last a month. During that month I rode to the river everyday for an hour or two. It was a very pleasant time in my life.

Lucy came by almost every night to check on the progress. She was almost, but not quite, ready to allow me to use the extra copy of the nude with her face visible. I felt that it was far better than the one with the 1920's style mask painted over her face. Even the large feather growing from the mask wasn't much help. It was a bit mysterious, but I thought it looked contrived.

The beauty of Lucy's body was that it was real. It wasn't perfect and we didn't try to improve it in the editors. It was just as it would have been shot fifty years before with film. I have a warm feeling for Lucy and it showed in the Rubinesque image.

As always happens there came a day when everything was ready for a show. It was just in time since Lucy found me a mall show in Jacksonville. I rented her and her car to transport the framed images to the show. The rent was gas money and the promise of a fancy dinner in Jacksonville after the show.

I should have checked with the show's organizer myself. I had been more or less assured by Lucy that all I had to do was show up. I had already paid the 200 bucks for the rental space so I couldn't back out.

Instead of including everything I needed, the fee included only one folding table and two folding chairs. It was a good thing we checked in an hour early since we had to run all over the mall to find stands for the prints. Easels came in different sizes and materials so it was just guesswork on our part. We were able to exchange a couple that were just too small. In the end I had prints on the table print on stand alone easels and prints leaning against the legs of the easels. I even had prints leaning against the table itself. Those had to sit on empty cardboard boxes so they would be high enough to lean against the table top.

My display looked like a discount store after an explosion inside. It was hideous but it was also my first one so I hadn't expected too much. I barely made the deadline for the exhibit opening. Even so I doubted that they would have said too much if I had finished late. People weren't exactly lined up to see any of the vendor's work.

I did sit around talking to people between cups of really good, but really expensive coffee. Lucy went home after the first hour and I was glad. I loved Lucy like a fatherly pervert, but she was a bit taxing since she was so much younger.

My first sale of the day was around lunch. A gay decorator and his fag hag came by. He bought two of my boat prints. He was impressed with the depth and lighting contrast. It was a lot different from the little old lady who commented, "I like it but it's the wrong colors for my bathroom."

The sale of the two pictures paid my rent for the show. I was almost at the break even point from that sale alone. It turned out to be a good thing since I didn't have another sale until late afternoon. Then it was an older couple, who said they were decorating a basement, who came in. I expected them to be interested in one of the boat pictures, instead they bought the nude of Lucy with the mask. I was way past surprised I was shocked.

The man actually went to the ATM machine for the money while his wife waited. There had been some interest in the nudes, but at $250 no one put up any money. I didn't tell the older couple that it was very unlikely that anyone would walk up with the money, should they decide to go to dinner first.

So by the end of day one I had gone into the black on the show, except for the easel purchases of course. I didn't really care about the money as much as I did the positive feedback from the mall shoppers. One of the comments I heard over and over was, "I really love this but it's not the right size." Some people thought they were too large, while some thought they were too small. I decided that for the next show I would make some smaller prints, however I just couldn't see lugging around anything larger. I would just have to accept that I would lose the 'It's too small' shoppers to someone else.

That very first day I found that the number one consideration was not the print itself. It was the size and would the colors match. Those things were beyond my control after I made the print so it seemed best to do a little of everything and just let the chips fall.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Since I wanted to do something different for the live shows, I convinced Lucy to pose nude for me. I promised not to show her face to overcome her concern. I also promised that the images would be tasteful. It took a little more convincing but she finally agreed.

On a rainy Sunday morning she came to my apartment wearing jeans and a tee shirt only. I began shooting her completely dressed then worked my way down to the pure nudes. From looking at the small screen images as I went, I was able to make small adjustments to the posing. I could hide parts and emphasize other parts.

I realized that if I got a decent image it would be by accident. I knew from that first shoot that I needed to study the human body, if I intended to shoot any more of the nudes.

Still I accidentally got a half dozen decent images from the two hundred or so that I shot that morning. One was of Lucy holding her tee shirt in front in what appeared to be a failed effort to hide her body. She was smiling an innocent smile in the shot which made it sweet rather than sexy. I had promised to hide her face but I didn't want to do that until she saw the original as a print. If she still felt that way, I would give her the original then do something artsy to disguise her.

The next one I chose was her all folded up like a rose bud. I knew that the pose was a copy of a painting but I didn't care. It was still a great pose for a woman carrying a few extra pounds. It would have been better with a thin girl but Lucy somehow pulled it off just fine. The other four shots were acceptable but not nearly as good as the two I chose.

The rosebud shot was usable without any work since Lucy was looking away from the camera. The one of her looking at the camera was a problem if she objected to her face being shown. I used a photo program which came with my computer to add a mask. The mask I chose to paint on her was a full face mask. The only parts of her face left to show were her eyes and mouth. Her identity was hidden but not so obvious as to make it appear to be a black bar porn shot. She looked mysterious not slutty.

Lucy approved the two images without her face but ordered the one with the face showing to put in her bedroom. The frame print was her payment for modeling for me. I did have her sign a release for the prints, friend or not. I didn't want her coming back to bite me on the ass later. Not so much for the lawsuit problem, since I would just move on and forget it all, as for the not wanting her to get the idea that she could do something like that. I had begun to like St Marys and wanted to stay a while longer.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

The first really big change in my paintings wasn't about the paintings at all. It was about the frames. I had been allowing a custom frame shop to make my frames. The frames cost me at least ten times what the prints cost to make. I didn't really mind, except that I hated to see the frame shop making so much money and me not making any at all.

So when I had the chance, I bought a truck load of frames all at once. The frames came in many different and odd sizes. That happened at a yard sale kind of situation. It wasn't quite a yard sale. It was more of a salvage junk yard sale. It took place a couple of miles outside of St Marys. Lucy was looking for a library table and the advertisement said they had old school furniture. I went along to help load the table, if she found one small enough to fit into her car.

Sure enough she found an old oak table that she liked. It was too large for her car so we discussed delivery. The seller obviously owned a truck. The items he was selling were purchased in lots from different distressed sellers. Since he agreed to deliver for a fee, Lucy and I went looking for other things which we could buy to spread the fee around a little.

I found the large box of cheap prints, which had obviously hung in equally cheap motel rooms. I bought fifty three prints and frames of different odd sizes. All the frames came with really awful paper prints. Those, I knew, would be going first thing.

Lucy's table and my frames were all delivered that same afternoon. I helped to unload them since it would have taken the one old man hours to accomplish it.

I wasn't interested in making any money on the art work really. I was more interested in just passing time. Since I was becoming terminally bored, I thought I might try a mall show. I could do it and stay with the prints just to meet new people. Since I hadn't met anyone new in months it seemed like a good idea.

I gave some more thought to the prints I was making. I looked at the scenic shots more critically for a real show. After all I would be listening to the comments in person not reading them on the very few comment cards I got from the restaurant galleries.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Just as I had done when building the electric bike, I found an old man on line who was a photographer. I befriended him and he helped me learn more about composition. I could never have learned as much on my own. He gave me lots of advice and did lots of corrections on my early work.

While he helped me learn about composition, a young art teacher in the New York City public school system answered question for me about painting. Even though I was cranking out images, I knew they were crap. I needed the practice and the feedback so I went along with Lucy on framing and showing them.

After six months I began replacing my early pictures with newer and far better ones. Because I felt as though I had a better product I allowed Lucy to convince me to ride with her into Jacksonville. I agreed to try to exhibit some of my pictures in the town's pseudo intellectual retail outlets. Those were mostly high end restaurants and coffee shops. I was forced to agree to very large commissions just to get in the door of some places.

After the agreed two months I called just to be informed that nothing had been sold. Lucy drove me back to retrieve my art work. Well Lucy swore it was art not trash, but I had my doubts. The exhibits were, in her opinion, just for show. She swore that she never expected any of them to sell. Plus all my shots were very area specific. Most likely the people of Jacksonville could see similar sites just by taking a five minute drive. Lucy stated emphatically that I needed to show them in some other area.

Which explains why I was in Raleigh North Carolina on Halloween night. I was trying to convince the decorator for a chain of restaurants to sell my work. The chain operated restaurants in most of the big time tourist areas. Not kids getting drunk kinds of places, it aimed at families on vacation. I had no idea they would be interested in my work, but I tried to stay optimistic. In doing so I felt that it might work out for me.

To get to Raleigh I rode the Tomos to Jacksonville where I caught an Amtrak train to Raleigh North Carolina. I spent two days in Raleigh. The decorator agreed to use a half dozen of the images I showed her. She also suggested that if I shot some mountain scenes she would hang them in restaurants in their six ski resorts.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Life took on a much slower pace as I proceeded with my picture creations. I didn't exactly see it as art, but some folks did. I had a couple of very minor local exhibits. I didn't sell anything but they were fun.

Lucy convinced me to move up in size from 8x10 images to 20x30 images. The paintings took on a different look as she had predicted. I even sprung to have them framed by a professional frame shop. Lucy picked out the frame style for each picture.

My personal life was pretty much in limbo as it always had been. Lucy and I might fall asleep watching TV, otherwise she pretty much went to bed at her place and I at mine. Touchy, feely stuff was encouraged but there was a definite line there. The line got blurred sometimes, but only Lucy was allowed to decide when. That decision was mostly based on the fact that only women say no. Okay, that was an over simplification but probably a pretty accurate statement.