PART TWO: JAKE

Chapter Sixteen
There’s screwing up, and then there’s the massive cluster that is this operation.

I knew I shouldn’t have sent her back to the apartment. I knew it when I did it, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. The only other options were to take her with me to the crime scene, or to send her back to my place. Either had its own set of risks. If she went to the crime scene with me, she’d have been exposed to a lot of people who wanted her dead, and could recognize her. They’d see her with me and my cover would be blown. If I sent her back to my place, there was a chance she’d find what I had hidden there, and if she found that out, she’d be in more danger than ever. Ignorance can be bliss, and it can save your life. Better for her not to have that temptation to follow that particular path.

( Still, I did keep an eye on her tracking device, which showed her going to the apartment and staying there. )

...which I shamelessly stole from someone, somewhere, some time ago.

Chapter Fourteen
In Tarot the Death card merely represents transition and change. I like that interpretation.

I was going to have to die. Again. And everyone was going to have to believe it. Even, for now, Jake, though I did believe I could trust him. He was just going to have to sell it to the people he worked with because even if they were on my side, they were dragging me into something I didn’t want to be a part of. Maybe some day I would learn what this was all about, I certainly hoped so. But for now, I was content to leave it a mystery and get out with my hide intact.

( I needed a few things to complete the plan... )Chapter Fifteen
Tying up loose ends is a lot like pulling on a dangling thread. You never know what else is going to come loose.

I made my way towards Jake’s apartment, stopping on the middle of the bridge to toss the revolver into the water. The flow of blood was slowing, but I’d still lost a lot and was starting to feel the effects. I was beginning to wonder if I’d be able to skip the trip to the hospital. But they’d take one look at blood-spattered me and call in the police, and that couldn’t happen. I’d taken a course in field medicine, granted it was years ago, but I still remembered the basics. I could get through this.

( Jake’s apartment was still dark when I got there, and I quickly picked the locks on his front door. )

Chapter Thirteen
You’re not lost until you don’t know where you are and you don’t know how to get anywhere where you will know where you are.

I was lost. I’d been walking for about two hours, and had completely lost my sense of direction. I’d never been lost before, and I wasn’t keen on repeating it ever again. I’d wandered down blind alleys, doubled back a bunch of times, and probably wandered in circles. I was still in a bad neighborhood, but didn’t care anymore. I hadn’t really seen anyone else, if there were people in the run-down industrial complexes, they were keeping to themselves. I’d also managed not to cry, though it did hurt. Jake hadn’t ever loved me. I’d been an assignment to him. For a year, we’d been in a relationship, and I’d never guessed. What does that tell you about me? I slumped down on a nearby crate and dropped my head into my hands. It was getting cold, but I didn’t care. It took all of my willpower not to sob. Maybe, when the sun started to rise, I’d be able to find my way out of this rabbit warren of tiny roads.

( My hand went to my neck and I felt for the pearl necklace that was usually there. )

Chapter Eleven
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, but stay the hell away from people actively trying to kill you.

I got in my car and followed the blip down the highway, not sure what I’d find out. There was a chance I’d just tagged someone who was honestly trying to help me, and if that were the case, I suppose I’d feel a little guilty. But on the other hand, if he wasn’t, I’d feel justified in being suspicious and paranoid. It seemed a risk worth taking, especially since I’m not one to wallow in guilt, even if I probably should. Call it an underdeveloped sense of empathy, but I’d never been one to let the past drag me down. Another thing that would have made me an excellent field agent, if I do say so myself.

( I watched the blip slow as he turned his car off the highway and headed into the city, into an area I admit I wasn’t that comfortable with. )

Chapter Twelve
Do you come here often?

I looked down the length of the pool cue, unable or unwilling to look up at the person holding it. I was shaking slightly, and no matter how much I wanted to tell myself it was from low blood sugar, I knew fear when I felt it. And I was terrified. Each of these men was easily twice my size, and I was completely unarmed. They had pool cues and goodness knows what else. As I stood there, unable to move, I felt another one of the men walk up close behind me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body and his breath tickled my neck. It wasn’t a good excited like the movies or books, it was terrifying. Sure, there was a chance I’d just run into the gruff biker with the heart of gold, but that was unlikely, and I knew it.

( 'Hey, baby, you come here often?' the voice behind me said. )

I've been cranky and stressed (the job, and the economy, and the understandable stress) and haven't felt like talking. I know it's been forever since I made a non-NaNo post! And those of you who are reading, never fear - I'm not giving up this year. After tomorrow, I have four days off, and I can't spend all of them playing Lego Indiana Jones. ;)

Meanwhile, a poll:

Poll #1490023
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 18

Will you be heading out to shop on Friday?

So, I got, within the last week, two acceptances (of 3 poems total) and one rejection.
I'll have two poems in issue 17 of Breadcrumb Scabs and one in nibble (the next issue!)
The rejection came from Monday Night.

These are some of the first shots. I have a bunch more I shot yesterday, so expect to be bombarded with warm fuzzy kittenness for awhile. My little boy was playing quite the pinup kitty yesterday, and seems quite fascinated with watching me put on makeup. I suspect he is gay or a closet drag queen.

Pandora or Lilith


Dexter


And collectively, hell on wheels. Or claws, as it were:

I'm on vacation this week...WOOOOOO!

It occurred to me I haven't even mentioned the new editions to the family here. I shall post pics soon. They are brother and sister, and I have decided to name my little boy Dexter, after my favorite fictional serial killer. And he does look like a Dexter. My girl is going to be Pandora or Lilith as she is a black kitty.

I was on the verge of moving into a house, but simply cannot bear the thought of not having a working studio space again. I can't go back. So I decided to dig my heels in and try to make this thing work here. Adding RADIANT heaters and sealing up two MAJOR drafts in my bedroom area windows is already helping. I'm also going to have someone install some eye bolts in the ceiling by the windows so I can rig up 10-12ft rods or dowels to hold curtains and backdrops in front of the windows for privacy, and function, which includes cutting down on terrible drafts around windows.

I have been thinking a lot about getting back to my dive bar roots with the indies and unknowns. Step one to getting back to my psychobilly/rockabilly/punk roots...becoming an American correspondent for the glossy print mag Dynamite! magazine in Germany. And covering the biggest, oldest psycho event in the world in April - the Satanic Stomp in Germany. I'll think of it as my birthday gift to myself. Time to start brushing up my very rusty German...

Back to cleaning and processing now...and occasional kitty love breaks.

Chapter Ten
Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, tracking device, on a sesame seed bun.

I walked into the fast-food restaurant with a complete back story for my new identity, but no name. I’d always had a problem with names, which is what led to the debacle with Isabelle’s last name. Every name I could think of reminded me of someone I’d actually known, or a character in a book or movie, or just didn’t seem to fit. I’d never liked my own name, but who would with a name like Sandra? All I could ever hope for was a life of being unfavorably compared to Sandra Bullock, an actress I quite liked otherwise. And it never seemed to suit me. Maybe this whole ordeal was just the universe’s way of rewarding me by giving me the life I always wanted, right down to the name. The problem was, I wasn’t entirely sure what that life was.

( I walked up to the counter and ordered a meal, though I wasn’t really hungry. )

Chapter Nine
Why is it when you need a salesperson, there’s never one around, but when you’re ‘just browsing’, they pester you every thirty seconds?

I’d dodged half a dozen salespeople by the time I made my way to the appliance section of the gigantic furniture store. Everyone was, it appeared, quite keen on helping me. They must, I determined, at least partly work on commission. There was no other explanation for so many eager, helpful people. This is not to say I think all salespeople are lazy and rude, but in a store this size you would expect to find at least one horrible employee, and I had yet to see anything but smiling, helpful faces. It made my teeth ache.

( Perhaps I was more sensitive to it because I was anything but peppy and cheerful. )

Two toast poems of mine are featured on the Montreal literary blog, Grasshopper Reads. Check them out here:
http://grasshopperreads.wordpress.com/poetry/

Toast is the theme to a series of poems I am writing. Over the summer, I also shot a film in which a woman eats toast for ninety minutes. It will be released in 2010 and made available for download.

Obviously, these two poems are out in the world already, but I'd still like to know what you think of them, and of the toast project in general.

Do you ever write themed series of poems?

I hope you'll indulge me in a quick plug: check out my http://secretvespers.com/

It has an LJ feed, too: secretvespers.

Because of the runaround I was getting on the house to buy, that deal is definitely off. I'm going to look at this house tomorrow to possibly rent with maybe an option in a year or so to buy on land contract. It's 900/mth to rent. They have a video tour but these guys ramble on endlessly and annoy the shit out of me, so I would recommend sound off.

http://www.buydetroitsbesthomes.com/prairie-17196/after/

Chapter Eight
Dead men really do tell tales, only you can’t tell if they’re lying, because rotting corpses don’t have facial expressions, other than the one they died with.

This latest murder had put yet another spin on the increasingly complicated mystery I found myself immersed in. Obviously – perhaps too obviously? – Jason had murdered Mr. Gaust. Or perhaps he was trying to cover himself because he’d been set up, which would make sense if someone else in the organization knew or suspected he was an agent. There was one other possibility, and that was that he was planning on setting me up, and the gun being there was just for safe-keeping.

( My mind spun as I constructed a scenario in which I was a pawn that would ultimately be sacrificed for real. )