What am I supposed to do?”

“It’s ten million dollars, Rachel. You can do anything.”

“But I’m crazy. You know that, right?”

“I know a lot of crazy multi-millionaires. Trust me, no one will notice. They’ll think you’re eccentric.”

“I know what I’ll do!”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll go live with Jill.”

“Decker’s girlfriend?”

“Former girlfriend. I’m gonna go knock on her door and say, ‘Whatever you do, don’t drink the water!’”

“The water?”

“Yup.”

“What’s wrong with the water?”

“She’ll be so grateful, she’ll let me move in with her. Before you know it, we’ll be best friends. It’s diabolical!”

Creed pauses. “I’m not completely sure what you’re talking about, but I expect friendships have been built on flimsier foundations. Good luck, Rachel. When you hang up I’ll text the banking information to the phone you just called me on.”

“Okay. Bye.”

 

Part 3: Mike & Jimmy


 

 

Who are Mike & Jimmy, and why should we care?


 

MIKE’S ON THE run. Jimmy’s his friend.

It’s not what you think: Mike’s not a criminal; he’s one of five living Americans who can identify the terrorist who detonated the nuclear bomb in Virginia three nights ago. He’s also the only known survivor of the blast.

Mike fears the terrorist who got away, which is why he’s seeking a place to hide. What he doesn’t realize, lots of scary people are looking for him.

Including Donovan Creed.

 

 

 

1.


 

“JESUS, MIKE. YOU okay? You look like ten miles of bad road.”

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously, man. Who did that to you? Your face, your arms? Were you burned?”

“It’s a long story.”

“What’re you doing in Houston? I thought you lived in…uh…”

“Charlottesville.”

“Right. Are you visiting?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Wanna tell me over dinner? I could use a good salad.”

“Salad?” Mike says. “Are you shitting me? Fuck the salad. It’s bourbon and steak for us. Followed by more bourbon.”

“You payin’?”

“Of course…if I can crash here a few days.”

“Uh…I’ll have to check with the missus on that—”

“Man rule number one,” Mike says, “You don’t ask your wife for shit, you tell her!”

Jimmy laughs. “No wonder you’re divorced. Tell you what: we’ll grab some dinner, I’ll call Millie. She says no, I’ll pick up the check.”

“Deal.”

“Saying that, I don’t foresee a problem, other than cholesterol. You dead set on steak?”

“Man rule number two: you don’t share a great story over quinoa.”

Jimmy shrugs. “We’re two blocks from steak. If we’re driving we’ll have to take your car. Millie’s got mine.”

“I abandoned my car yesterday. But hey, we’re men. We can walk two blocks.”

“What do you mean you abandoned your car?”

“I’ll tell you at dinner.”

They head out the door, walk a block. Mike says, “What’s this place called?”

Jimmy points to the sign at the next corner.

Mike reads: “Morning Wood? Is it any good?”

Jimmy grins. “You can’t beat Morning Wood.”

They enter to find the restaurant busy, work their way to one of the few the empty booths in the bar area, and settle in. Bartender strolls over, asks, “You eating or drinking?”

“Both,” Mike says.

“I can take your drink order now, bring the menus later.”

They order their bourbons, and Jimmy says, “Before you start, tell me this much: does your story involve a hot girl?”

“You know it does.”

“How hot was she?”

“Let me put it this way: her Tampons were made of asbestos!”

Jimmy laughs.