Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Ballad of Mr. Jones #1

     Colby’s Ridge was a small quiet town in Kansas. It wasn’t big, maybe a hundred people lived in town itself. Most people lived out in the Wilderlands on farms and ranches in the like. The Wilderlands was a massive expanse of scrublands, forests, and deserts. What used to be the American West became complete uninhabited wilderness. Ghost cities, cities that were abandoned in favor of the four mega-metropolis’ are scattered about the Wilderlands. Colby’s Ridge is situated in just inside the border of Kansas and Colorado, along what used to be Route 36. It was built as a waypoint for one of DG International’s cross continental railways. 

     The tavern in Colby’s Ridge was called the Silver Bullet. It had swinging batwing doors. There is a stage squeezed into one corner with an upright piano and stool against the wall. Tables scattered about with seemingly random pattern. The bar was made of stained wood. Shelves full of various liquors sat in front of a mirror behind the bar. Well-used beer tap handles with chipped paint were set into the bar itself. Television screens hung over the bar displaying a muted Info Broadcast. It was midday, and the saloon was fairly empty. A couple of men sat at a table, they were obviously passing through. A lone figure sat at the bar. His mud-caked boots rested on the bar’s brass footrest; his sun-bleached black hat pulled low over his stubble covered face. A mane of black hair is pushed behind his ears. His brown duster was tossed carelessly on the stool next to him. His white shirt was stained a light brown from dust and sweat; a crimson waistcoat hung on his shoulders. On his hip, a silver Drachen Grapeshot Frontier Model 2031 Revolver, which was clad in a worn brown leather holster, tied tightly around his thigh. A cigarillo tucked between his lips. A thin wisp of smoke rising from underneath the brim. In his grey leather gauntlet he held an empty shot glass of whisky. His celadon green eyes looked quietly at the glass. He quietly raised the glass and the bartender stumbled over. The bartender was a fat man with red face, round nose, a burly mustache and a bowler hat. He silently poured the man another glass of the whisky that he had ordered.
     “Will you like this on your tab too Mr. Jones?” he asked in a deep raspy voice. The man at the bar nodded. The bartender set the bottle down and waddled over to the cash register and typed in the order. Mr. Jones raised the glass to his lips, threw his head back and downed the drink in one gulp. 
     “Ahh,” he breathed. The Silver Bullet Saloon and Tavern always had the best whisky. He waved down the bartender, who came hobbling over.
     “Yes Mister Jones?” he gasped.
     “What do I owe ya friend?” said Mr. Jones. His voice was raspy but had an air of authority to it.
     “It’ll will come to forty-five dollars,” stated the bartender. As Mr. Jones reached into his waistcoat the bartender stiffened in fear. Mr. Jones seems not to notice as he pulled out a worn leather wallet, opened it, and tossed a fifty dollar bill on the bar. He slit the wallet back into his waistcoat, stood, collected his duster, and raised his hat.

     “Keep the change” he growled. He turned and strode out of the bar, the batwing doors squeaking as he pushed through them.

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Rubi Rascke: Runner for Hire #4

     The marina was a thicket of masts and boats. It was a clear night and the moon was reflected in Lake Michigan’s placid surface. The smell of diesel mixed with water permitted everything.  Rubi was perched atop a condominium building over looking the marina. She wore a black leather jacket, black shirt. Her green eyes scanned the marina. She looked down and unzipped the backpack at her feet. She pulled a pair of goggles and slipped them over her eyes.  The googles flashed a heads up display. She zoomed in and began to take a closer look at the boats floating in the harbor. After about ten minutes of searching she finally spotted the Direct Deposit. She tagged it with a waypoint. She spotted some people on the deck of the ship. She zoomed and focused. There was a man leaning on the railing of the ship. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from a tactical vest, withdrew one, put it in his mouth and lit it. She spotted an assault rifle hanging on his shoulder. She switched the goggles to thermal. She adjusted the setting to high. Eerie white, yellow, and red silhouettes appeared on the ship. She counted twelve people all with rifles. She pulled off the goggles, turned around and slid to the gravel rooftop. Shit. This is going to be a hard one, she thought. She pulled an e-cig out of her jacket. The end glowed with a neon blue light as she took a drag on it. She checked her watch, 23:49:20. She exhaled, the vapor hung in the humid air. Where the fuck is Cal?! She heard the roof access door open. She drew her pistol and moved silently over to where the door was. Cal stepped through the door, a backpack and duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Rubi let down her guard. She stepped out from her hiding spot and approached Cal. 
     “Cal!” she hissed, “Where the fuck have you been?!” 
     “I was finishing up the ice-breakers!” whispered Cal. 
     “Did you bring the stuff I asked you too?” asked Rubi. 
     “Yeah!” said Cal, gesturing to the duffle bag. 
     “Good!” Rubi led her over to the parapet overlooking the marina. They crouched down and Cal set the duffle bag and back on the gravel.
     “So what do we got?” asked Cal, looking down in the marina.
     “Twelve trigs with assault rifles.” relayed Rubi.
     “I hope you have a plan.” growled Cal.
     “I always do.” replied Rubi. She unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out a synthetic rifle stock and a silver barrel with a scope attached. She snapped the two together and slapped a magazine into the bottom. She handed the rifle to Cal before turning to her backpack. She pulled out what looked like a small harpoon gun with a spike on the back and two hand trolleys. Cal looked at it quizzically. 
     “What is that?” she inquired, gesturing to the the harpoon gun.
     “It’s a little toy, I picked up for this job.” said Rubi with a devilish grin. Cal’s eyes darted to the trolleys.
     “Is that a zip line?” asked Cal, nervously. Rubi nodded. “God damn it Rubi! You know I hate heights.”
     “Well how else do you expect to get on the yacht?” asked Rubi.
     “Not like this!” complained Cal. 
     “You’ll be fine.” reassured Rubi. She pulled a pair of earpieces with microphones from her jacket pocket. She handed one to Cal and pressed the other into her ear. A faint blue light flashed, signaling that they were functioning. Cal pushed her’s into her ear. Rubi picked up her backpack and slung it on to her back, tightened the straps and buckled the harness.
     “I can’t believe that you really want to zipline onto the yacht!” hissed Cal.
     “Oh shut up! Vy bol'shoy rebenok,” snipped Rubi. Cal scowled, leveled the rifle and zoomed in on the yacht. Rubi aimed the harpoon gun at the superstructure of the yacht. “On my go I want you to take a shot at the stern.” Cal paused.
     “Shouldn’t there be a silencer on this?” asked Cal. Rubi relaxed and looked at her friend.
     “No. Why?” she asked dryly.
     “Last I checked guns make shit-tons of noise!” hissed Cal. Rubi rolled her eyes and reached into her backpack and handed Cal a suppressor. 
     “Thank you,” retorted Cal as she screwed the suppressor onto the end of the barrel. 
     “Killjoy,” murmured Rubi under her breath.
     “Nothing!” Rubi leveled the harpoon gun, “Fire.” Cal took a breath and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was a mere pop. The man on the boat slumped silently to the deck. Almost immediately after Rubi fired the harpoon gun. The wire spiraled through the air and hit the yacht’s superstructure. Rubi quickly ran away from the edge and slammed the spike into the wall of the rooftop access building. She clicked the trolly onto the wire and tossed one to Cal. Cal attached her trolly to the wire behind Rubi.
     “Just so you know, I hate you for this,” she complained. Rubi’s lips cracked into a sideways smile.

     “Let’s go!” 

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A Preview for A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: "Black Leather and Blackmail"

I just thought that I would give you a little tease of the next Jack O'Callahan Mystery! I will say that this story will defiantly be much more mature than The Curious Death of Mr. Grove. Meaning, if you are not interested in reading explicit content, you should probably skip over this story.
     The rain came down in sheets over the city of Chicago. Jack sat leaned back in his desk chair. He could hear his secretary, Jenn moving around outside the office door. She poked her blonde head inside. 
     “Mr. O’Callahan? I’m going to be heading home soon,” she stated. 
     “Alright, see you tomorrow,” nodded Jack.  She withdrew her head and closed the door. He heard her gathering her things, opening the door and leaving. He stood and walked to the window that looked out across the city. It had been a month since that call from the mysterious person. The voice was still trapped in his ears. Who was she? How did she know that I was investigating the death of Mr. Grove?  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He tucked it between his lips and flicked open his lighter. He puffed on the cigarette thoughtfully. There was a knock at the door.

     “Come in!” called Jack. He turned around expecting to see Jenn. But instead of his blonde secretary he saw a middle-aged man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. He had a square jaw, a hooked nose, and thin lips. He was wearing a fine, tailored suit and in his right hand was a black leather briefcase.

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Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: The Curious Death of Mr. Grove, Issue #10

    Jack took the phone from Jenn.
    “Hello?” he asked, grimacing from the pain in his arm.
    “Is this Jack O’Callahan? The detective?”  came a smooth female voice. The voice was soothing and intimidating all at the same time.
    “Yes, yes it is. Who am I speaking too?” asked the detective.
    “Who I am is not important. What is important is that you listen to what I have to say. As my agent demonstrated in the alley, if we wanted you dead, you already be.”
    “Who is this?” questioned the detective.
    “I already told you that who I am is not important!” growled the voice, “But I am calling to instruct you to cease your investigation of the death of Mister Grove. Should you refuse my request and continue your investigation the consequences will be most severe.”
    “What are you talking about?” asked Jack.
    “You are fairly familiar and involved with the runner named Cordell Vikhrov. Should you continue to investigate the death of Mister Grove, she will… find herself without breath.” The icy tone of the voice sent a shiver up Jack’s spine.
    “Alright. I’ll halt my investigation,” relented Jack.
    “Good boy. Now, You are to call Miss Maxine Grove and inform her that you cannot continue the case. Do this immediately after I hang up. I will know if you don’t” commanded the voice.
    “Okay.” The phone clicked as the person on the line hung up. Jack blinked. He looked down at the phone and typed in Ms. Grove’s CommNet address. The phone began to beep slowly. Ms. Grove answered.
    “Hello Detective!” she greeted. 
    “Good Morning Ms. Grove. I have some unfortunate news,” said Jack.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “I am sad to inform you that I cannot investigate your case anymore. I am fully prepared to return your payment.” revealed Jack. 
    “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Please Mr. O’Callahan, keep the money. You did what you could, and I am thankful for that. I will send the rest of your payment to your office. Thank you for what you have done,” explained Ms. Grove.

    “Thank you for your business Ms. Grove,” said Jack and he hung up. He dropped the phone onto his desk. He leaned back in his chair. Who was that mysterious voice? Could she have been bluffing? I don’t know… Didn’t want to chance it either.

Thanks for Reading! 
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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: The Curious Death of Mr. Grove, Issue #9

     Jack stood on the corner of 96th Street and East 97th Street. Rays of sun pierced the the gray curtain that hung over the city. He looked at his watch; 07:48. The Grove Tower stretched into the clouds. The sidewalk was full of men and women in business attire hurrying to their jobs. No one seemed to pay Jack any attention. He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it. This gained him a few dirty looks from passerby’s. He ignored them and headed to the alley where he saw the woman enter in the security video. Jack caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up. A traffic camera was pointed at him. How curious, he thought. Shouldn’t that be  pointed at the street. He pulled his eyes from the camera and proceeded to the alley way. 
     The alley was narrow and the buildings gave one the feeling of being incredibly small. Steam from street vents billowed in the alley. The wet pavement glistened in the early morning light. A row of dumpsters sat against left side of the alley. That would be a good place to dispose of a murder weapon, thought the detective. He stepped up to the first one and pushed the lid open.The smell of rotten food smacked him in the face and he recoiled. God the smell! He buried his nose in his elbow. His ear twitched, someone was coming down the alley. The click of a hammer of a pistol being cocked. The soft pop of a silenced gun was almost lost in the ambient noise. Jack slipped between the dumpsters, sparks flying as rounds impacted the metal around him. He drew his pistol and poked his head around the dumpster; his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. The alleyway was empty. He felt a pain in his upper arm; his hand felt something wet on his sleeve. He looked down, a hole was in his coat. The black wool of the coat masked the presence of blood. He gritted his teeth as pain shot up his arm. He holstered his pistol with some trouble, stood and stumbled out of the alley. He hailed a cab, and fell into the back seat.
     “Thirty-one Natoma Drive! And make it fast!” growled Jack, clutching his arm. Blood seeped between his fingers.
     “You okay der?” asked the cabbie.
     “Yeah. Just fuckin’ drive!” barked Jack.
     “Alright! Hang on!” exclaimed the cabbie. The cab sped off into the city.

     Jack’s arm was soaked with blood by the time the cab arrived at the destination. His hand clutching the wound was stained with blood.  The smell of iron filled his nostrils. He stumbled into the building and called the elevator. A small dribble of blood splattered on the floor. The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, and punched the button with his floor on it. The elevator seemed to rise slower than usual. He swore under his breath. The elevator doors slid open and Jack stumbled out. His breath was short and his head spinning.  He staggered to the office door and fell through it. He stared up at the ceiling. He heard someone moving about and Jenn’s terrified face looking down at him. Pain blurred his vision.
     “Oh my god! What happened!?” Her voice was hurried and pitched higher than usual.
     “Got shot. Medkit… in bathroom,” he stammered, closing his eyes. He heard her get up and open a door. Closing his eyes seemed to dull the pain. Jenn returned shortly. He opened his eyes slowly; the room was spinning. 
     “What do I do?! I don’t know how to dress a bullet wound!” cried the woman. 
     “Get the biofoam!” grunted Jack through gritted teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut. He heard a pop, something plastic hitting the floor, and the distinctive clicking of an aerosol can being shaken. His arm went numb as the foam filled the wound. His eyes blinked back tears. Jenn’s face was a whiter than a freshly fallen snow. He smiled.
     “Thanks.” Jenn helped him sit up.
     “What happened?’ she asked.
     “We found Jewel. She went into an alley near Grove Towers and I went to search the joint. When I got there someone fired a silenced pistol at me,” said Jack. Jenn clapped a hand to her mouth. Jack looked up at her.
     “It’s an occupational hazard,” he reassured, “Help me get this coat off.” Jenn helped Jack to his feet and into his office. She pulled the bloodstained, coat and jacket off and carried them into the bathroom. Jack leaned against his desk. His stark-white sleeve was glistening with blood. Jenn returned, pulled his tie loose, and began to unbuckle his holster. He groaned as she moved his arm. She hissed at him to be quiet before laying the holster on his desk and moving on to his shirt buttons. She expertly removed the shirt and took it into the bathroom. She returned holding a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. She fumbled with the package before finally withdrawing one and placing it to his lips and flicking open the lighter. He puffed on it.
     “Thanks sweetheart,” grunted Jack, “You remove men’s clothes often?” His speech was slurred; the painkillers in the biofoam had started to effect him.
     “I’m not a nun and hush, you need to sit down,” she scolded. Jack’s legs shook as he made to move around the desk. Jenn supported him and set him gently in his chair. He grunted. The phone rang. 
     “Stay,” commanded Jenn.
     “I ain’t goin’ anywhere” murmured Jack. Jenn left the office and answered the phone. Jack couldn’t make out what words she was saying. She poked her head into the office.

     “It’s for you,” she informed.
Check back in next week for the conclusion of the Curious Death of Mr. Grove!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: The Curious Death of Mr. Grove, Issue #8

     They ate their dinner in a fairly awkward silence. After Cordell cleared the dishes, she lead Jack to the living room with a bottle of red wine in her hand. She sat him down on couch and slid next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Jack cleared his throat.
     “Do you have my information?” he asked. She sat up straight.
     “Is that all you think about?” she hissed.
     “Yes. Especially when I have bills to pay, and when my paycheck is linked to finishing the case!” growled Jack.
     “And after all this time, I thought you might have changed,” she snapped.
     “I have. But this is a big case! It could open all sorts of doors for me,” pleaded Jack.  She bit her lip when he said this. He pleaded with her through his grey eyes. Her demeanor softened. She let out a sigh, and exited the room. She returned with a notebook computer. She sat down next to him and opened the screen. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, and she pulled up a video file.
     “This is Grove Towers. The fiftieth floor, on the date you requested,” informed Cordell. She played the video. It showed a woman wearing business wear and carrying a briefcase, walking down the hallway and entering Mr. Grove’s Office. She had black hair tied into a bun and horn-rimmed glasses. 
     “Who is that?” asked Jack.
     “According to my research that is ‘Jewel’,” stated Cordell. Jack noticed that there was no sound.
     “Is there sound to this video?” asked Jack.
     “Ummm… no,” replied Cordell. The woman came out of the office five minutes later. She looked around the hallway and then entered the elevator. 
     "Can you follow her?” asked Jack, “With the cameras?”
     “Yeah,” said Cordell. She began to switch through the differing views of various security cameras. They showed the woman descending the elevator, and exiting the building. Cordell then switched to street cameras. The woman headed into an alley. 
     “Can you get a view of the alley?” asked Jack.
     “No, There aren’t any camera’s in there. Or that look down the alley. At least none that I could find.”
     “Shit,” swore the detective, “Do you have the location of that alley?”
     “Yeah,  It’s on East Ninety-Sixth Street,” replied Cordell. I’ll have to go and check out that alley. Perhaps there are some clues there. Why would she visit for only five minutes and then leave? Unless… She killed him, thought Jack. 
     “Are you satisfied Detective?” asked Cordell. Jack was pulled from his thoughts.
     “Could you give me a copy of the files?” he asked. Cordell nodded. She set the computer on the coffee table before turning to Jack.
     “Alright, You have your information. Could you play some attention to me now?” pleaded Cordell. Jack leaned back on the couch, and looked at the woman sitting next to him. 
     “Alright,” said Jack. Cordell smiled and uncorked the bottle of wine. She stood and bounded into the kitchen. Jack could hear the clinking of glasses. She returned with a pair of crystal wine glasses and a bottle opener. She peeled the foil of of the bottle before twisting the corkscrew into the cork. She pulled the cork out with a pop. She poured the deep red wine into the glasses. As she handed Jack a glass, a new song began to play.
Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear

     Jack sipped on the wine. Cordell dimmed the lights and turned on a screen that displayed an image of a crackling fire. She sat close, laying her head on his shoulder. Her sapphire hair smelled of sweet apples. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.


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Issue #9 Coming Wednesday July 16th

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Jack O'Callahan Radio Drama?

So. One of the things that seems to be common with most Detective/Hard-Boiled stories is they get a film and a radio drama. So since that Jack O'Callahan is practically pulling from stories such as the Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, The Lady from Shanghai, and practically every other Film Noir movie and or book I could get my hands on... It seems almost natural that a radio drama would be something that crossed my mind. Also, Bladerunner and Shadowrun, and Android Universe Board and Card Games by Fantasy Flight Games (Android and Netrunner). But anyway. I still think it would be incredibly fun to make a Radio Drama based on "The Curious Death of Mr. Grove."
I think it would be fun...

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: The Curious Death of Mr. Grove, Issue #7

     Jack stared out the window of his office. The view was blurred by the downpour of rain. It had been raining for three days now. The orange ember of his cigarette was reflected in the glass. He looked down at his watch; 21:13:15//FRI/SEPT4.43. Where is Cordell? She said that she would have my information before Friday, he thought. He took the cigarette from his lips and flicked the ash from the end. He strode over to his desk and pushed the ember into the cigarette tray. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a mobile phone. He selected his contacts and found Cordell’s CommNet Information. He clicked her name and the tone began to beep. The phone clicked and Cordell’s sultry voice could be heard through the speaker.
     “Hey there sweetie,” she cooed.
     “Do you have my information?” asked Jack seriously.
     “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant to stop by, I got caught up at work. Why don’t you stop by? I’ll cook you dinner,” suggested Cordell. Jack thought about it for a moment. His stomach growled. Cordell is a fantastic cook, he reminded himself.
     “Yeah sure. Just let me close up the office. Same place or did you move?” asked Jack.
     “It’s the same apartment,” said Cordell, “Let me know when you arrive, so I can buzz you in.”
     “See you soon,” said Jack.
     “I look forward to it” said Cordie with a flirty tone and she hung up the phone. Jack dropped the phone onto the desk. He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. His stomach churned with butterflies. It had been so long since he and Cordie had spent any time together. He pulled on his coat and placed his hat his head. He picked up his coat before exiting the office. Jenn was still sitting at her desk. He jumped when he spotted her.
     “Oh! I didn’t know you were still here!” exclaimed Jack. 
     “I was just getting ready to leave. I wanted to finish some things first,” she explained. 
     “Well, I’m going to meet my contact on the information that you discovered,” stated Jack.
     “Be careful,” smiled Jenn.
     “I’ll try not to lose my pants,” said Jack. Jenn raised her eyebrow.
     “What does that mean?” she asked. Jack realized what he said.
     “Never mind,” muttered Jack.
     “Wait, is Cordell a woman?” asked Jenn. Jack blushed.
     “Uh.. Umm…” stammered Jack. Jenn’s face lit up.
     “SHE IS!” cried his assistant.  Jack pulled the brim of his hat over his face, masking his rosy cheeks. 
     “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” murmured Jack, heading towards the door and leaving the blonde girl grinning at her desk.

     As Jack stepped out of the cab in front of Cordell’s apartment, he was presented with a torrential downpour. His coat was completely soaked by the time he reached the door. He stepped up to the intercom panel, found Cordell in the touch screen directory and tapped the Buzz option. The screen displayed a visualizer of sound waves. 
     “Yes?” came Cordell’s voice.
     “It’s Jack,” said the detective. 
     “I’m opening the door,” quipped Cordie. There was a buzz and the distinctive click of a lock opening. Jack opened the door and stepped into the lobby. Rain dripped off his hat and and coat and began to form puddle on the hardwood floor. He could feel his socks squishing into his soles of his shoes as he walked to the elevator and pressed the Up button. The elevator arrived and he stepped in and pressed the button for Cordell’s floor. The car began to rise. Jack’s stomach churned again with nervousness as the elevator opened to her floor. He stepped into the hallway. He swung left and found No. 1523. He could hear the buzz of  jazz through the door. He hesitated before knocking. He took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
     “It’s open!” came Cordell’s voice from inside. Jack tested the door nob, the door swung open. He could make out the words being sung.

What would you do if I died in your arms?
Would you hold me tight? 
Would you cry? If I died in your arms…

     He entered into a small hallway. Closet doors to the left off the entrance. The smells of a home cooked meal wafted from the kitchen. He stood on the door mat, rain water dripping to the floor. A smiling face peered around the corner.
     “Hey you!” Cordell came around the corner. Her blue hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. She wore a soft off the shoulder shirt, and a pair of black yoga pants. Her feet where bare, and her fingers and toes were tipped with burgundy. Her make up was rather modest compared to what she was wearing earlier. 
     “It’s really coming down out there,” stated Jack.
     “I can see that. You’re soaked.” remarked Cordell, smiling. Jack pulled off his coat; she took it from him and hung it in the closet.He then pulled off his shoes and socks. She placed his shoes underneath his coat and hung his socks on a spare hanger. Surprisingly his suit was dry. She took his hand and led him into the living room. Her hips swayed as she walked. Jack’s eyes were fixed on her back side. She peered over he shoulder, and spotted him. She spun around.
     “Like what you see detective?” she flirted, her eyebrow raised. 
     “Uh… no,” said Jack, flustered. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
     “Oh really?” she hissed. Jack was taken aback. Her thin lips cracked into a grin and she slid close to him and planted a kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist. 
     “Well, there you are,” said Jack.
     “Here I am,” whispered Cordell. She slide her hands down his arms and placed his hands on her bottom. Jack jumped. She grinned, “Just a little taste of dessert.” She reached up and their lips brushed against each other. Cordell broke off the kiss. 

     “Come on. Don’t want to eat a cold dinner.”  Cordell smiled.

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Issue #8 Coming Wednesday July 9th