THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 3 of 3)

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Final part... Let's go!!! 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHAPTER THREE.

A year ago...

He wasn't supposed to find out. In fact, it had been a huge mistake that he had.

"Baby, I'm off to the airport."

Kate came to the room, clad in a towel. "I'm really going to miss you. Promise you'll come back as soon as the meeting is over."

He kissed her. "I promise. Meanwhile, what do I get for my baby when coming back?"

She smiled coyly, putting a finger under her chin. "Trust me, I can't look you in the eyes and tell you what I have in mind. How about I email you a list?"

He swatted her behind, grinning. "Naughty girl." He quickly glanced at the clock. "I have just an hour to get to the airport and get booked in. I need you to be a good girl while I'm gone and contact Jerry for anything you may need."

"Yes, daddy.”

"Don't call me that or I'll definitely miss my flight."

It turned out that his flight had been canceled, anyway, due to technical difficulties. And so, after putting a call through to his foreign partners, he headed home.

Kate wasn't home but, by an ironic twist of fate, her cell phone was. Then, the messages had come in and at first, he had stared at them, disbelievingly. That had quickly given way to pain.

The following week, a question popped up in his head. If they had done this, what else had they done?

That was when he hired a private investigator.

***

Present day...

Jerry was speechless.

"Well? Say something."

Suddenly, the air in the room wasn't enough for him. He felt claustrophobic. Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so, so sorry."

Mason smirked. "Sorry for what, exactly? For planting your ex in my life, for continuing an affair with her after we got married, or for giving her drugs that made me ill, to extort money from me?"

"I need another lawyer."

Mason laughed. "What the hell for? It's all good, man. I just have a final question. All those times you bugged me about getting a second opinion was because you knew I wouldn't, right?"

 Jerry stayed silent.

"Genius! Honestly, Jeremy, you outdid yourself. I'm actually impressed."

"Mase, you have to understand that I was jealous and stupid, okay? You had the life and the girl I wanted. When I pointed her out on the dating site, I didn't expect you to actually send her a message! I stopped the affair months ago, man. Your friendship means a lot to me."

"Chill out, bro," Mason drawled. "Why so tense?"

"I didn't kill Kate. I swear I didn't."

"Don't be silly, Jerry. Of course, I know you didn't."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Mase, but all the evidence points to me-"

"Of course, they do."

"I mean, the police found her blood in my boot. They also found my fingerprints on the murder weapon, a sledgehammer, which is silly because I gifted that to you, last week."

"Lovely gift, by the way. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for it."

But Jerry wasn't listening. It was like the puzzle pieces, on a game board, coming together, beautifully. "You had my car, yesterday. You said yours was at the repair shop."

"Did I? I'm sorry, I have the worst memory in the world."

"You also have a spare key to my apartment. You had it made when there was a gas leak, at the time I was out of town."

"Okay. Now, you're just making things up."

Jerry smiled, sadly. "You killed her, didn't you?"

"Guard!" Mason yelled. The guard from earlier on came in. "I'm afraid there's a slight conflict of interest and, therefore, I will no longer be able to represent Dr. Jeremy.

Hours after Mason had gone, Jerry had a chilling thought.”

The black box!

 

 

***

Miles away, Mason smiled at Annie, the memory card from the black box, sitting safely in his breast pocket. "My usual, please."

"Honey, are you sure you want to be here? It must be hard for you, right now."

"I'm fine, Annie. Actually, I feel better than I've felt in a long while."

Outside Anita's lounge, the wind howled- as though the weather had picked up on the excitement in his heart.

Sometimes, Annie, the good guys do finish first.

 

 

The End.

(Written by ANYANWU, VICTORIA CHISOM.)

THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 2 of 3)

 AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Nothing to see here. Do carry on, kind Sir or Ma'am. 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHAPTER TWO.

A year ago...

The four of them had been on a couple's Caribbean cruise. Mason and Kate had met, months ago, on a dating app, while Jerry and Natty had been an on-and-off couple for three years. The cruise had been Natty's idea.

Beautiful, smart, hilarious and a fast rising fashion stylist, Kate had been every fantasy, Mason ever had, rolled into one.

"She's too good to be true, man," He had said to Jerry, one evening. "Every day I go to sleep, scared that I'd wake up and it would have been a dream."

Jerry made a puking sound. "Dude, your sweetness is making my tummy ache. I don't even get surrounded with this much estrogen when I'm with Natasha." He sipped his drink.

"Whatever, douchebag. Will you be my best man?"

Jerry sputtered. "You're joking, yeah?"

"Bro, I'm as serious as a stroke and a heart attack, rolled into one." He frowned, and tried to wipe the spat out drink on his shirt. "Also, if you could try keeping your cognac in your mouth, next time, I'd appreciate it."

Jerry ignored the snide remark. "Mason, you've only known her for three months."

He shrugged. "So what? When it's right, it's right. You're acting weird, man. You should be ecstatic for me! Your boy is finally becoming a man."

"Of course, I'm happy for you. I just don't think it's something to be rushed into, that's all."

Almost immediately, a voice came from behind. "What shouldn't be rushed into?"

They turned to receive the girls. "Vasectomies," Jerry replied, with a grin.

That night, Mason proposed to Kate. Everything was perfect. Then, somehow, it all went wrong.

***

What had begun with common flu symptoms was now life threatening.

Mason was a mess, and Kate seemed just as bad. His symptoms grew worse, steadily, until he had no choice but to get admitted into the hospital.

"I just don't get it. Nothing seems to work. It's a miracle I still have fluid in my body, after the amount of bile I let out this month."

Dr. Jeremy shook his head in sympathy. "Don't fret, man. I got you." He drew out a clipboard from the tinplate being held by a nurse.

"What you have is Cinchophen poisoning, an advanced form of gastric poisoning. Basically, your body is fighting itself. There are new research drugs available but they're quite expensive, Mase.

If not, you could keep trying those drugs I already gave you or you could seek a second opinion." Before he finished, Mason was already shaking his head. "No, I want the research meds. I trust you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Tell Kate to contact my accountant. He'll know what to do.

****

Present day...

"I demand to see my client this minute!"

"Sir, he's currently being interrogated. Please, be patient."

"Let me get this straight. A confession is being coerced out of him, without the presence of his attorney?"

The desk sergeant was frustrated. "Sir, that's not what I meant. If you could just, please-"

"You go ahead and tell whomever is in there that if I don't talk to Jerry in the next two minutes, I will file for a mistrial in court, on the basis of him being denied his constitutional right to legal representation and the detectives being major pains in the backside."

A minute later, he was ushered into the interrogation room, by a guard. The detectives that had been with Jerry weren't in the room. "I need to have a private chat with my client."

The guard grunted and left. "What the hell did you do, Jerry?!"

Dr. Jeremiah was a shadow of himself. In the last 24 hours, he had found what looked like human parts in his fridge, called the police for help, gotten arrested and interrogated for the first-degree murder of his best friend's wife. "I didn't do it, Mason. I swear on Aunt's grave, I did not do this! You've got to help me, man."

Mason glared at him. "Leave my mom out of this. If you didn't do it, why were her- her body parts- Jesus, Jerry! They found body parts in your fridge!"

"I know it looks bad. I don't know anything. I swear I don't!"

There was a brief silence. "Fine. Walk me through this evening. You need an alibi. Where were you?"

"Uhm.. First, I drove to the farmhouse you had told me to check out. It was deserted, by the way. The foreman you said worked there never showed, so after waiting for three hours, I drove back home. Then I took Denise, the girl I told you about, out for dinner and back to my apartment.

I wanted to get us a nightcap from the fridge, which was when I- uhm... I saw the blood. Denise screamed and fainted. Then, I called the police."

Mason slowly nodded. "It should be easy to prove your whereabouts by tracking your phone. Where is it?"

"That's another thing. I can't seem to find it, and I swear I had it on me when we got drinks, yesterday."

"Okay. What about your car's black box?"

Now, Jerry had a glint of hope in his eyes. "It's there! It's intact! It must have recorded my whereabouts. Thank you!"

"Sure, man. Anything for a friend."

Jerry smiled and relaxed on his seat. "This is such a huge weight off my shoulders. I can't tell you how much I detested the thought of you believing those allegations against me."

"Never. We're brothers."

"Nevertheless, you must be crushed about Katie."

"Honestly, not really. We had grown apart."

The eerie calm Mason displayed was a bit unsettling. "Still, she was your wife, wasn't she?"

"I don't know, Jerry.” He replied, crossing one leg over the other. “You tell me. Was she my wife?"

"Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“So you have no idea what I’m talking about. Is that it?”

Jerry nodded. “I really don't."

 

"Really? Then, please, allow me refresh your memory."

THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 1 of 3)

 

PROLOGUE

“911, what's your emergency?”

“Help me- Oh, dear God, please, help me!”

“Sir, what exactly is your situation?”

“We need an ambulance. Denise is unconscious and there’s so much blood, and I- I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay. Sir, please try to remain calm and stay on the line. Your call is being traced and there'll be officers at your location, soon. What’s your name?”

The line crackled. “Sir, what is your name?”

“It’s Jeremy. Dr. Jeremy Brookes. Please, hurry!”

***

CHAPTER ONE.

IT was dark and really windy- as though the weather had picked up on the turmoil in his head. The man chuckled. As least, something could feel his hurt.

He heaved, as he dragged a bag through the forest, dry leaves and sticks crackling under his boots. As cold as it was, he felt hot all over.

His pulse raced, as the adrenaline rush in his veins made him feel nothing short of godlike.

Ten miles away, a woman screamed in horror and slumped.

He grinned.

***

Barr. Mason Jackson was at his favorite lounge. It had been an awfully long day and as much as he'd have loved to go home, there was still some unfinished business to be attended to.

“Here you go. A martini, shaken not stirred,” Anita, his favorite waitress said, rolling her eyes at the last part. “Honestly, Mason, you're a grown man. Shouldn't you have moved on from the James Bond franchise by now?”

Mason pouted. “You wound me, Annie. My ego is quite fragile, you know.”

Anita Laura Burnett rolled her eyes again. Although, sixty-two, and twice divorced, she still swore that Mason was the biggest charmer she had met, in all her life. Three years ago, she'd been at a really crappy place, what with being served divorce papers, out of the blues, by that spineless coward she had called a husband.

Ten years of marriage and suddenly, he was gay. That identity hadn't lasted, though, she thought wryly, as a week after the divorce proceedings were over, he had moved in with her therapist. And Anita couldn't help but notice that Dr. Dana conveniently lacked a penis.

After that whole fiasco, Annie skipped town and made a home here, in Paradise, Texas, where she set up a little, cozy lounge, courtesy of the alimony and properties she'd gotten in the divorce.

She'd met Mason and his wife, a little after a year. He was the son she would never have.

Speaking of whom. “How's Kate? I haven't seen her in a while.”

Mason shrugged, as he sipped his drink. “Can't say, I'm afraid. A spontaneous trip with her girls, maybe? You know how adventurous she can get.”

Oh, Annie knew how adventurous Kate was, alright. Everybody knew, except, it seemed, the main person who should have been aware. Shooting him a quick glance, she sighed, internally.

Poor guy. Why do the good guys always finish last?

Mason, on the other hand, seemed oblivious of her worry, as he looked at the time and sprang to his feet. “Damn it, Annie! I told you to remind me about my meeting!”

The waitress arched a brow. “That was last week, genius, and I did.”

Hours later, Mason was pulled into the driveway of his personal doctor and best friend, Jeremy Brooks. An hour ago, he'd gotten a strange call from him, asking for help. Knowing him, though, it was probably a prank.

Or maybe not.

There were police cars in front of Jerry's house. Some officers were taping round the front, while others were either scoping out the premises or talking to the neighbors.

Mason tried calling Jerry, but it didn't go through.

Switched off.

“Sir, I'm going to need you to move back, please. This is a murder crime scene.”

The officer, speaking, looked to be in his twenties and, if Mason wasn't wrong, had a glint of excitement in his eyes.  He couldn't blame him, though. This was Paradise, and it was as quaint as any town could get. The worst crime to happen in a place like this was accidental forest burning or small scale burglaries.

“Wait. Who was murdered?”

“Sir, I'm afraid that's not for me to say. Right now, there's a forensic team, out back, collecting evidence.” The officer responded, before making a move to leave.

“You don't understand,” Mason insisted, pulling him back. “This is my best friend's home. Is Jerry okay?”

The officer looked him over, trying to discern if his claim was legit or if he was another overly eager reporter, trying to get a scoop. Finally, he put a call through and whatever was being said to him, caused his mouth to tighten. “Sir, what's your name?”

“Mason. Mason Jackson.”

“Hours earlier, Dr. Jeremy put you on, as his lawyer, but I'm afraid there's nothing much you can do here, as he's already been taken to the station.”  

Mason scrunched his brows. “Why exactly was he taken into custody?”

“Sir, he's the prime suspect in the murder of a Mrs. Katherine Jackson.”

“Kate? Jerry killed Kate?!”

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Heeeeeeeyyyyy, besties! It's me, your beacon of light. I know... I know... It's been ages, but in my defense, I have absolutely no defense. 

*hehe*

Anyway... A friend recently reminded me of this particular piece and I decided, for my birthday, to upload it. Why not, right? 

It's a three-part short story...ish, and I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I had enjoyed writing it. 

Hugs and kisses, 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHIMA.

 There were eight people, in total, regarding him with suspicion. They were all behaving  relatively normal, except for a dude, at the far right, whose left eye kept twitching. 

"Do you want the product?"

Gulping, Chima nodded. 

It was 9pm on a hot Wednesday night and the streets looked pretty deserted. Internally, he cussed Ayo for introducing him to this, and cussed himself for lacking the will to be patient. 

What was that saying about dogs and fat bones? 

This was, by far, the riskiest thing he'd ever done. Granted, his life wasn't exactly the plot from "The Godfather". In fact, someone had once referred to him as the whitest black guy he'd ever met. A slight exaggeration, if he had ever heard one. So what if he enjoyed the occasional episode of the Gilmore girls? 

 "Spider, go bring am."

Spider, the gentleman with the twitchy eye, regarded him for a bit before leaving. 

The silence following his departure reminded Chima of a prostate exam. Uncomfortable, at first, but not that bad, after a while. 

"So," he began. "I was told it would last for a lot less time, than usual."

The leader nodded. 

Just then, Spider returned. 

"Mr. Chima, do you have the money?"

Chima nodded and handed it over. After confirming the amount was what had been earlier agreed upon, the leader handed the product to him. 

Clearing his throat,Chima said, "You should know that this is my first time. I was quite desperate, you see."

Wiping his palm on his jeans, he chuckled nervously. "I'm quite anxious, actually."

At this, the leader sighed. "Mr. Man, it's black market fuel, not drugs. Relax."

Turning to his guys, he said. "Let's go. And, Spider? Could you tell Ayo to stop sending over weird customers? The money is, frankly, not worth it."

Much love, 

Vicki. ❤

New Year, Same Me, New Intentions.

      2021 was rude to me, y'all, and I'm not even joking. 

You know that expression talking about the harshness of reality? Yeah. 

It was like someone took me out of a very comfortable box, and tossed me in front of a firing squad.  Only, in this case, the bullets were unfamiliar jobs, exaaammms, saving and spending my own money (may not sound like it, but a VERY big deal for me.),   building new relationships (Yes, Julz, not romantic relationships. Leave me alone! 😭)  and having the cajones to walk away from mentally tasking situations and people. 

So... Yes, my box may have been the best box there ever was; water resistant, furnished with the latest technical appliances and, might I add, an in built ice cream station, but, at the end of the day, it remained just that... A box. 

      If you know me, you know I'm iffy about any kind of change. It takes a considerable amount of time for me to get used to, not new things, but the idea that what I was used to is no longer possible. 

Same thing? Sue me. 

That's why these "new year, new me" declarations make me laugh. Cannot be me, Victoria Chisom StellaMaris. I'm the same person I always was, with major room for improvement, upon which, I still won't be new but merely an updated version of myself. Kinda like an IOS installment. 

Don't believe me? Tell that to the Italian cuss words i learnt in SS2. 

      While speaking to a friend, yesterday, I happened to ask what his new year resolutions were and he said, "To be more intentional with life." Basically, bringing a commitment, focus, and attention to everything he does in life. 

That answer, to me, was perfect because while I cannot be "new", in every sense of the word, I can choose to be intentional about everything... My writing, my job, my friends, new restaurants e.t.c Basically,  things I have always done and things I've  never tried before. 

So, friends, here's to a new year- 🍸

Here's to the same me-🍷

Here's to new Intentions-🍷🍷

And, finally; Here's to hoping that our screw ups, inevitable as they may be, do not outweigh our fix ups. 🍾🍾🍾

HAPPY NEW YEAR. 

With love, 

- Vicki ❤. 

I Don't Shit Where I Eat... Sometimes.

 Hot coworkers. 

We all have them. Can live with them, and choose not to live without them, workplace sexual harassment suits be damned! 

Disclaimer: Jk, guys. Please respect other people. 

I don't shit where I eat. 

Humorous saying, but valid af. 

*insert British accent* "Of course you should not ingest where you excrete! Why, that's bloody unhygienic!"

For the love of the queen, Susan, calm your tits! I'll explain.

Sometime in the early twenties, a social scientist from the school of fictitious scholars, named Baristotle,  discovered that placing two elements in a semi confined space, where one was of a hot nature and both were extremely volatile, over a prolonged  period of time,  caused a reaction known today as, "Awkwardness". 

In his effort to proffer solution to this problem,  Philosopher Baristotle coined the phrase, "I don't shit where I eat" or IDSWIE, for short. 

True story. 

Now, to us mere mortals, the phrase above expresses a reluctance to have romantic relations with coworkers. 

I mean, they say "coworkers" but I say ANYONE likely to be a part of a social circle you can't, for the foreseeable future, break out of. 

It could be your pastor ("...for the devil dwells in lies... Not unlike Sis. Clare who swore her undying love to me last year...") or even a doctor at the hospital you frequent ("The patient in ward C with the headache complaint should be given this coma-inducing injection. Also, here's a 'Do not resuscitate' form which she happened to sign a minute ago. *wink*") 

Wow. And those aren't even the worst scenarios that come to mind. 

Moving on... 

The IDSWIE was one I followed religiously until I happened to come across an exception to the rule, prompting me to add a "U" to the acronym.

I Don't Shit Where I Eat Unless... 

a. Coworker looks like Chris Evans, treats you like any K-drama protagonist and Focuses Until Current Knowledge Surpasses like Johnny Sins after a year's vacation. (Sorry, mom.) 

Or

b. Said Coworker has the funds to make a down payment on your soul. 

Impossible, I know, ergo, there are no exceptions to the rule. In my opinion, of course. 

But I'm curious... What could be the difference/tipping point between upholding the rule and pulling off an Elsa ... Ya know, letting it go? 

I want to hear your opinions and stories on this topic so, please, send me an email (victoriaanyanwu335@gmail.com) or a DM on WhatsApp. 

This is, hopefully, a two-part series and I'd love to feature you guys in the next part. 

Much love, 

Vicki. 

The Unicorn Effect... Without the effect.

Hey, there, fellow Hollywood scripted underdog. Ever heard or said stuff like;

"Nope. That'll be simultaneous to suicide. Girls are always after him."

Or

"So there's this girl. She's way out of my league, financially. In maturity, too... And fineness."

(a) Really? You have? Me, too! 

Author's note: If you replied in the negative, please refer to option b. 

(b) Really? You haven't? Me, too!... Hehe. 

At the risk of self-deprecation, I have to admit that I was more of the "saying" than "hearing" person. 

Recently- and by that, I mean yesterday, I read a writeup in which a therapist talked about "The Unicorn Effect". 

For those of you who don't know what that is, it's the desire to want something you can't have and choosing to chase it, anyway. It could be, in mild cases, a celebrity, a close friend or, in extreme cases, a step sibling. 

I'm joking, people. 

Fun fact: The term "unicorn" is also used to describe bisexual females, usually sort after by heterosexual couples for the sole purpose of sexual gratification usually brought about by badly scripted porn. How awesome is the urban dictionary? 

But I digress. 

For the purpose of this material, we will be talking about the unicorn effect...without the "effect". 

In my opinion, that just means desiring what you can't have and choosing to do absolutely NOTHING about it! 

Storytime:

When I was in the university, there was this particular guy I had a major crush on, which was quite an inconvenience, really, due to fact that it made me do stupid things like laugh extra loudly, whenever he was in the vicinity or walk to my hostel extra slow, hoping to catch a glimpse of his...whatever attracted me, in the first place. 

I know, fam. I cringed, too. 

 We were in different departments and he was this quiet, but popular type, so we couldn't have been more different. He asked me a question, one time, and i froze. I don't even remember what the question was or what i said, but i avoided him like the plague until i graduated because, you know, that's what normal people did when they liked someone. 

Back then, he was my unicorn. 

B A R F... But totally true. Cute, seemingly unattainable, too cool for figurative school, nice and cute af. 

*seemed imperative that I mention the cute factor, twice*

Fast forward to a year after graduation, and guess who I bumped into? 

Yes! Cute guy! 

And this time, we actually talked and his version of things made me want to roll on the floor and laugh or cry... Whichever one made me seem cooler. 

According to him, I was a bit of a snob. I always looked annoyed, never smiled at him and the one time he gathered courage to talk to me (remember the question and answer I didn't remember?), I just said I didn't know how to play chess and walked out. People actually told him that all I knew were my books and few friends. 

Like... Sir, for you, I would have dropped to 2:2. Who education epp? 

That experience got me thinking about how many opportunities I might have missed just because I assumed they were above my reach, and how many baby daddies I had let slip by... 

But, my darlings, knowing what my mistakes were and how to fix them does not mean I will, in fact, fix them. And since I'm a really crappy bet, I took it upon myself to bet on you guys, instead. 

Apply for that job. 

Make a bid for that contract. 

Ask that guy or girl out. The worst you could get out of it is "no". If you want to use it as a learning experience, you could create surveys, asking what part of you they didn't respond well to, and improve on it. 

And if all fails, we've got Dr. Joro's IG dating page. It's not a joke... That's my backup plan. 

Finally, do you know you're someone's unicorn? 

How awesome is that? 

With love, 

Vicki.