OK.
He would concede slipping between realities may have some challenges.
But, just because his second novel was his first and his website
disappeared didn't mean anything.
Cliff squeezed his eyes shut and thought.
There was always that back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch Jim Carter.
He clicked on the white pages, and found his publishing agents,
Fehmel, Gwaltney, Newmark and Smith. Where was Carter's name?
He grabbed the phone, and punched in the number. What if it didn't
answer? Again the voice of that damned old Apache, "Beware
. . . you are one and you are many."
A female voice answered. Professional, well-practiced, and slightly
bored. It was Jeannie. "Fehmel, Gwaltney, Newmark and Smith."
"I want to talk to Jim Carter."
There was a painful silence. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carter is no
longer with us."
For an instant Cliff remembered the bedroom, pulling the revolver's
trigger, but that was somewhere else. He could still start all
over again, and not make the same mistakes.
"Can you give me Carter's phone number?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carter was shot to death."
Things weren't supposed to unravel like this. He spoke without
thinking.
"Look, Jeannie. This is Cliff." He became sarcastic.
"You know? Cliff Brown? The famous writer? The man you sleep
with."
Cliff heard the receiver drop onto the desk, and Jeannie speaking
to somebody in the background.
"Cliff," she said, "It's that psycho again."
He recognized the other voice. His. Then Jeannie's again, in surprise.
"The caller ID is your old apartment!"
He heard her hang up-the slam and then silence.
Cliff pushed himself back from the basement table. Something had
gone wrong. In the glow of the computer screen he glanced at his
hands. Sticky with Carter's blood. He reached for the bourbon
bottle and took another drink.
He would clean himself up, go back to sleep, and try again…
He pulled the gun from his pocket. How did he do it last time?
The door crashed open. Flashlights stabbed the darkness, blinding
him. "Police!" shouted a voice. "Put the gun down-"
This had never happened before.
He heard gun shots.
***************
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