Chapter One
A million hornets exploding all at once, the sound funneled through a billion-watt amplifier placed strategically in an echoing cavern.
That?s pretty much what it sounded like to me when my phone rang as I lay sprawled sideways in my bed. I probably would have flown out of bed and screamed if I had the strength. Instead, I groaned and moaned as I tried to burrow my way deep under the pillows. Unfortunately the pillow seemed to weigh about a thousand pounds, so the best I could do was smoosh my ear into its surface.
?G?way,? I slurred.
The phone continued to ring.
?Leave me `lone,? I muttered.
Still ringing.
It took about a minute to weigh the risk of the nausea that would be brought on by moving my arm, against the risk of my head rupturing from the constant ringing. The more immediate threat won out, and I thrashed my arm to the side, knocking the phone off its hook. The ringer cut mercifully short. ?That?ll teach ya,? I murmured. As I started to drift back to sleep, I heard a familiar voice saying, ?Hello,? off in the distance. I rolled my eyes around, but didn?t see anyone else in the room. I tried to shrug but my shoulders wouldn?t move. My eyes started to close.
?STARR!!?
I jerked upright, then grabbed onto the nightstand so that it, along with the rest of the room, would stop spinning. Heavy machinery pounded in my head. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes. No good. Not being able to see the room spinning, yet knowing that it was, seemed worse.
?Starr! Pick up the damned phone!?
I opened my eyes and looked at the receiver lying on the floor next to an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Don?t look at the Jack¸ I told myself. You don?t want it coming back up. I took another deep breath, then slowly reached down, down, down, until my hand closed around the phone. Damn, why did they have to make the floor so far away in this place? I let out my breath in a woosh and raised the phone to my ear. ?Hello?? I managed to whisper.
?Starr! Where the hell are you??
?Chief?? I recognized the exasperated bark of my editor. ?Chief, why are you calling me in the middle of the night? And on the weekend??
?Middle of the night? You asshole, it?s almost noon! And it?s only Tuesday!?
Oh, shit was the first clear thought that succeeded in making its way into my head. I tried to sit up but fell backward once more as the room spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl. When it slowed to a simple wobble, I coughed out, ?Look, Chief, I --?
?I don?t wanna hear it.? I heard a long sigh on the other end. ?Dan, you?re a smart kid, you got a lot of talent. But you?re throwin? your life away. You?re headin? straight for disaster.?
My therapist had told me the same thing. Many times, in fact. When enough people tell you something, you start wondering if maybe they?re right. Nine out of ten times you still won?t do anything about it, but you do start to wonder.
I realized my editor was still talking and tried to focus on his words. ??One last chance,? he was saying. ?Bring me one good story, any story worth printing, and I?ll see about putting you in the bullpen full-time. But if you screw up this time, you?re on the next train back to Rhode Island. Got it??
I gulped and murmured my assent. I?d known him long enough to know when he was serious. It was simple: he was always serious.
?Good,? he replied. ?Go check out the East Village. There?s plenty of nuts down there always doin? something crazy.? He paused for a brief chuckle. ?Maybe ask the homeless who they?re votin? for in the next election.? He laughed at his own joke, then barked, ?You got `til the end of the week.? There was a loud click and the phone went dead.
I lay there for who knows how long, still clutching the phone, wondering how I would possibly find a story when I wasn?t even sure where I had left my shoes.
