The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Duty Before Love

Tonight is that big charity event, and I'm beyond fucking nervous as we ride in the back of a limo towards it. I'm normally calm when I'm about to take someone out, but this evening is different. I'm not going in alone, but with Amber. The fact her life depends on my actions has me scared shitless. Despite all the planning we've done for the past month, I keep focusing on the fact there's always that chance shit can go sour, and I'll have to watch her die. I need to stop thinking about this, but my heart is dragging me downwards as it focuses on losing the only good thing I had since I landed in Curva.

Amber squeezes my hand while whispering, "You okay?"

"Not really," I whisper back.

"We'll be okay, Jimmy. Quit worrying so much."

"I can't help it," I sigh as we get closer to the charity ball. We made it through the date that night at Homard with any issues, but it was purely a social thing. However, tonight, I have to take down a senator that is trying to push through a bill to make tantrix a class one narcotic. What Blue told us is their kid got hooked on tantrix, and the senator is using his muscle to push this bill through. Our goal tonight is to make sure that this event is the last part the senator attends. This means more security we have to deal with, and if we're caught, we might as well end our lives because we'll be dead one way or the other.

"We'll stick to the plan, and by tomorrow morning, we'll be having pancakes for breakfast."

"Pancakes always works," I say as I fiddle with my black bowtie until Amber slaps my hand away from it. I can't shake the uneasiness of this whole situation as we pull into the mansion where the event is held. I look at her one last time as she looks absolutely stunning in her black dress. I pray this isn't the last time I see her alive as the driver stops the limo. I make sure I have the present for the senator in my inside pocket as the driver opens the door, and we step out.

I take Amber's arm, and we stroll up the marble steps to a massive pair of wrought iron doors. As we make it outside of the doors, one of the guards pats me down hard to the point I almost asked if this comes with a fucking dinner as the other one quickly pats Amber down and checks her purse. Once we're both clear, they unlock the doors and motion us to enter. I adjust my jacket, take Amber's arm, and step inside.

For the next hour, we mingle with the other guests waiting for the target to arrive. I try my best to hide my nerves as I talk to cops, politicians, lawyers, people who would have no problems putting me six feet under if they truly know who I am and what I have done. Far as they know, I'm some partner of a big investment firm as we bullshit about the weather and other trivial topics. Every time they ask about stocks, I make up bullshit and go back to small talk. I might know how trading works on the streets, but I know shit about legit trading.

However, one conversation has really peeked my interest. One of them starts discussing the growing problem with tantrix in Curva. The part that hit a nerve is when he started bashing the sheriff.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but once Sheriff Voustine was elected, the problem has gone out of control," says an old man as he sips on some scotch. "Despite the arrests, it keeps getting worse. I almost feel Sheriff Voustine is being paid to look the other way."

"He's done more good than the last sheriff," another one says. "The last one didn't even arrest the dealers, and look where he ended up? Dead in the swamp."

As they go back and forth over this, I begin to recall that night the fucking pigs roughed me up. When Blue strolled out of the police station like he owned the joint, I begin to wonder if this Sheriff Voustine is the man under the helmet. I'll have to do some research on the sheriff tomorrow to see if I can connect him to Blue, or it's just more political bullshit. If Blue is Voustine, it will explain so much, including the cops showing up the instant I left that warehouse carrying all that tantrix.

Amber strolls over to me and whispers, "They're here."

"Ready to do this?" I whisper back.

"I'm going to powder my nose for a minute. I'll give you the signal when I'm ready."

I give her a quick kiss and reply, "Don't take too long."

As she walks away, someone gabs a pistol into my side hard.

"Don't turn around. Just walk forward," they order.

I walk forward as the pistol stays buried into my lower chest. They guide me through the ballroom to a hallway. As we make it to the end, the door to my left opens, and they force me inside. Sitting at the desk at the back of the room is Amber. In front of me is another fucking suit holding a shotgun pointed at my chest. The person behind me kicks me knee, causing me to kneel down.

"Hands on your head," orders the goon with the shotgun.

"You're fucking dead to me, you backstabbing bitch," I say as they cuff me.

"Sorry, Jimmy, but no one is killing the senator," she replies.

"What was I to you? A fucking dildo?" I shout as the first time I opened my heart up to someone, she fucking rips it out and throws it to the ground like it's a piece of fucking trash. I was worried about tonight ending in her death, but it's my life that's now over. I should have learned my fucking lesson with Donnie, but I let feelings guide my decisions. I should have remained the cold, heartless monster that left the swamp, and not even let this fucking tramp into my life. Now, she's going to fuck me over for good because by tomorrow, I'll be resting next to Gus if I'm not killed here.

The goon with the shotgun slams the butt of it into my chest and says, "That's no way to talk to a federal agent."

"You mean that heartless bitch?" I retort laughing.

            "Sorry, Jimmy, but duty comes first," Amber replies.

"Well, are you going to fuck me over this last time, or these assholes going to do the dirty work?" I ask.

She gets behind the desk, and strolls over to me. Without a word, she plunges a needle into my arm and says, "I'll see you in a bit. Night, Jimmy."

I'm about to say something else when within seconds, my body goes completely numb. I collapse to the floor as my eyelids feel like they're made out of lead. I accept this is my final seconds on this fucking Earth. I let someone into my life, and I'm paying the ultimate fucking price. I should have learned after Donnie to keep myself distant from anyone, but my heart decided I needed to let someone in. The last thing I hear before I pass out is that bitch saying, "We'll always have pancakes."

"The Right Way To Write"

I spend a lot of time on social media, mainly Twitter, and there's a trend that worries me. There's always some comment about how you should write. As someone who's written two novels, and has a third one in the works, I begin to think about my writing system. Honestly, the things I do would scare so many people. However, the thing I've learned over the years that there's no magical system when it comes to writing.

I've always compared writing to underwear. It's something we generally keep hidden until we're ready to share and show what's been hiding on our hard drives all this time. Also, you got to find what's comfortable to you. Do you prefer safe and reliable tighty whities, or does the leopard print thong excite you more? That's what writing is like. Some days, you take it the safe approach like briefs, and other days, the words flow out of you, and you want to show that daring side. Again, comfort is the key here in the long run.

Far as time, there's no such thing as the perfect time to write. I've always felt if you try to schedule in writing like a work schedule never works. I honestly try to write every day, but life happens. It's even harder to find that magical time due to job, kids, etc. I honestly do my best writing early Sunday mornings. Other times, I can be doing whatever, and the muse decides to hit me upside the head with a bat. I wish I could find that golden time to write, but since I started my first novel back in 2006, I never found that magical time. So, I don't stress that I can't write for days, then in one night, I hash out 5,000 words.

The other thing I don't worry about is word counts. I've written a little as a paragraph one day, and other days, I lose count as my fingers ache from pounding the keyboard all day.  My thought is if writing is not your main source of income, don't stress. If you worry that you didn't hit that word count every day, you'll actually give up on writing. This is why I don't bother with any kind of goals. I got enough pressure facing real life that adding writing deadlines while make me give up quicker than being happy I do write something here and there. The more pressure you add to the craft, the quicker you'll burn out and give up.

The other line of nonsense that I can disapprove is what system and what software you "need" to be a writer. There's no perfect PC and / or software that is going to make anyone a great writer. I've done writing on every word processor and type of PC out there. The limiting factor on what I did that day was me. These days, I do most of my roughs in Notepad. Yes, I can write entire chapters in the most basic program inside Windows that hasn't changed since it was introduced in Windows 95. This summer, I will end up ditching Windows, and running UNIX. The only writing program I really worry about having is Word, and that's for the edits and finalization of each work. After that, technology will never make anyone a great writer since the limiting factor is our imaginations.

The overall point I'm trying to make is this: find what works best for you. You have to figure out what makes you comfortable as you type out the story burning inside your head. There's no exact plan or formula that will work for every person out there. The only two things I truly need when I write is music and writer's fuel aka some kind of caffeine (I prefer Diet Pepsi for the record). Once you find that comfort zone write until you can't write anymore. The more you enjoy hashing out a brand new world within your pages, the more the readers will feed this. One last thing, no matter what, think as writing as a fart. If you try to force it out, the end result is the same. Until then, happy writing.

The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - The Eluded Word

After the hell I've been through since I landed in Curva, it's nice for once to have a reason to wake up every morning. I never thought from all the chaotic bullshit that has happened I would find love in such a messed up place. For the past three months, Amber and I been spending much time together as we can. The best part is Blue hasn't tried to keep us apart, and Riese even said I look human whenever I'm with Amber. In other words, life is fucking beautiful, and nothing can bring me down.

Sadly, this morning I have to leave her alone in bed as Blue texted me at four in the morning stating he needs me to meet him at five. I still haven't forgotten that night the fucking pigs worked me over, but because of Amber I've been behaving because I know firsthand how fucking ruthless Blue can be. So, whenever he needs me, I do so without questions. I still haven't found any means to answer the questions about Blue and Madam burning in my mind. However, I'm afraid to show any weakness since I've fallen in lo...

I pause at that l word almost came to mind as I arrive at the meeting place. I try not to think of my relationship with Amber as I find myself outside the butcher shop once more. I almost want to head back home because the last time I was here, I ended up nearly dead from the beat down I got from the bitches in blue. I feel my heart sink as I walk up to the delivery bays, and see one of the doors open as Riese stands there in his parka.

"Blue is back in the vault," he states.

I nod my head as I head into the employee break room, and don the gear. Once dressed, I head into the warehouse towards the steel door. My heart is fucking racing as I keep replaying the last time I was here. The only thing that's keeping me here is the thought that if Blue or Madam really wanted me dead, I wouldn't have left that makeshift hospital. It would make no sense to let me live this long if they wanted me dead. There's only one way to find out as I keep walking towards the vault.

As I step through the massive door, I find Blue sitting at the table with three massive stacks of blueberry pancakes in front of each seat along with a huge mug of coffee. Blue sits there twiddling with a lighter as I sit down across from them. I almost want to put a bullet into Blue's head since I was treated with such hospitality before they shoved their knife into my back, but again if they wanted me dead, it would have happened by now.

"We're waiting for one last person to join us," Blue says.

I nod my head as I wonder who else is joining us. I know Riese is outside, but don't think he's joining us today. A minute later, I look up to see Amber walking into the vault. I almost lose my shit as she sits down at the head of the table, but I won't do anything to put her into danger. If I'm going to take down Blue, I will only put my life on the line. I almost sigh as I realize how much I like Amber to the point I'm thinking about her before me. I never thought the love of pancakes would lead to this, but damn it, she’s the pancake that makes me calm in this chaotic fucking orgy of drugs, conspiracies, and murders.

"Before you two start eating, here's the deal," Blue explains. "I need a couple to sneak into a big charity function to take down a fucking pawn trying to stop our supply lines. Of course, this needs to be done discreetly since they will be a ton of security."

"When do we need to be there?" asks Amber.

"I will send the details over later, but I want to make sure you two are up to the task," replies Blue. "You have to act like you're married, or they'll get suspicious."

"We can do that, right Honey?" Amber asks.

"Yes, dear."

"We have more planning to do, but you two need to do a trial run before we execute the plan. You got a date tonight with one of our supporters from Atlanta tonight at seven at Homard.Wear something fancy," Blue explains. "Enjoy the pancakes."

As Blue leaves the room, I sit there confused. Blue has pretty much order us on a date tonight at the most expensive seafood place in town. I look at Amber, and she wrinkles her nose as she pokes at the pancakes. I get a feeling that she's not happy with this either. I think what bothers us the most is Blue knows we've been fooling around in private, but now we have to act like we're truly dating in public. I hope we can make it through this tonight without it ending badly for the relationship we do have.

"Well, I lost my appetite," she sighs.

"Bothered by how Blue wants us to act like a married couple?"

"A little, but that's not what is bothering me."

"What is?"

"We never go out anyway," she retorts. "We stay in, order food, and fuck. Now, our task is to have a real date."

"I thought you wanted to keep it casual?" I ask as I push the pancakes away as well. My stomach is in knots right now.

"I did, but for the past few weeks I've falling in lo..." she stops before saying the one word we both feel, but are afraid to say.

"Loathe of pancakes?" I ask trying to ease the tension. I'm not sure it's pent up emotion brewing in our hearts, or the uneasiness this place gives me because right now, I want to get out of here before shit does happen. I stand up and ask, "Ready to go home?"

"I think I'm going to head back to my place for a bit," she says as I notice tears in her eyes.

"Everything okay?"

She leans in and whispers, "I love you, Jimmy. However, considering what happened to you, I'm worried this might be my last chance to say it."

"I love you too, Amber," I whisper back. "We'll make it through this. I promise."

"I better go. I'll text you later so we can meet up for dinner."

"We'll talk later," I say before she steps back.

We head out of the vault, and quickly make our way out of the warehouse. I can feel a huge weight lift off my fucking shoulders as there's no one else here. However, an anchor has been placed around my heart as Amber walks towards her car. We finally said the one word that refused to elude our lips, and I feel it has made our relationship more complex. Then again, she knows about what Blue has done to me, and is worried sick that I might not make it through tonight or that charity function. As I finally drive away, all I can do is pray that she doesn't end up like Donnie, and for once, Blue lets me have some fucking happiness in my bleak existence.