The station was empty.
As in, empty. Carl’s train was scheduled to leave at 23:53, and he was fairly certain it was the only train running at that point anywhere in the country. There was one other person at the station, a half-asleep security guard hiding behind his desk in a booth on the next platform over.
This is why Carl was surprised to see the drunk. (more…)
Another morning, another hang over, another jazz club and another lousy pay check. Gus is me. I work for a newspaper. Jazz clubs, mostly. It’s a heap of bull. This is a town full of vice and big stories just waiting to come crashing down on the little paper I work for, and I can’t do jack shit about it.
So I get up and I go to work, and again, Ray (my boss) says: (more…)
Eden looked at Conrad, and Conrad looked back at her, the lights of the mixing desk reflected in his eyes. Everyone had gone home, but the two of them had decided to hang out in the studio, and tweak the last song on his new album, Oh Babe I Love You—an edgy number with a pounding rhythm section and a samba feel to the chorus. They were talking happily and nudging the sliders, when Conrad leaned over to kiss her. It was a decent kiss, first ginger and gentle and then with more passion as they both started to get into it. Suddenly, Eden leapt to her feet. (more…)
I don’t know why he picked this cafe to tell me. I don’t know if it carried some kind of emotional significance, or if he just liked the place, or even if it was just the nearest one to his house, but it was sitting at the wobbly metal table furthest from the door that the man I worked for told me he wanted me to kill him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I need you to kill me. Please, Reed, I’m begging you.”
I sat silently and stared at him. There were tears in his eyes and his knuckles had gone white from gripping the cup.
(more…)