have never met anyone who so closely resembled myself, Thom thought.
After that, the two talked for hours, and before they knew it, the three o’clock crowd had started to wander in to get an early start on the evening’s libations. On the walk back to their flats, Thom wished for the time to stretch into eternity; as Clark said his goodbyes, while walking toward his door at the end of the hall, he turned abruptly and asked, “Would you like to come over Friday night? I’m having a couple of friends over, and I would really like you to join us.”
Relieved, Thom quickly said, “Yes, I would love to join you and your friends. What time?”
“Around seven.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll see you then.”
The next three days would have dragged on except for the job that I was required to do; this time, it would be in a downtown park. To the public, the news would report a single car crashing into a pedestrian walkway, causing multiple deaths. I was efficient and quick; my talisman was heavy as I returned to my lair. I was excited and pleased with my work. I often wondered if enjoying my job, as much as I did, would create a negative outcome in the end. Overcome by the excitement of the day’s harvest, I drove my pious thoughts to the back of my mind; I would save this conversation for another day.
*****
As Friday night approached, I started to get the normal dread of interacting with a group of mortals. My only solace was that I would have the pleasure of being with my neighbor, a person who might be the deepest connection I have had in years. As I arrived around eight, the flat was abuzz with conversation, and Clark was nowhere to be found (although I could hear him talking somewhere close by). I quietly moved through the crowd, to find myself sitting at his piano, when a woman, not too bad to look at, came over and said, “How about some tunes?”
“Sure, what would you like to hear?”
She listed off several popular songs of the age, and I was off and running. Playing, tucked away in the corner from the action of the party, I continued while his friends wandered back and forth making requests, to which I obliged. Several dropped five-pound notes in the bowl sitting on the top of the piano. They must think that I was hired, he thought. Not to bring attention to himself, he continued for over two hours until Clark wandered in from the other room and sat down next to him, joining on several selections.
Someone in the crowd asked, “Where did you rent him from? I need someone to play at my next week’s event.”
A little shocked, Clark responded, “This is my neighbor I told you about.”
Several red-faced friends turned and attempted apologies, to which I responded, “All monies will be donated to charity.” A nervous laughter enveloped the entire suite.
*****
A feeling of an approaching storm had been prodding at me for the last hour, and I was trying to put it out of my mind; I was soon overwhelmed with the feeling of the approaching sleep. It was two days early, and I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, I would never make it to the safety of my flat. Moving toward the door, I felt my legs start to give way; I steadied myself on the kitchen counter just as Clark turned the corner. Facing him, I asked, “Would you do me a favor? I need to go, and I’m not sure I can make it on my own.” My paleness must have caused a slight panic. Without hesitation, he steadied me, and we left for my flat. As we approached my door, my legs started to give way again, and I was suddenly held up by my neighbor. I attempted to put the key in the lock, but my dexterity was nonexistent, and Clark finished the task. Moving toward my bedroom, I was able to shed my clothes for a long tee and shorts, finally slipping into bed. Clark stared down, and I could see the worry showing in his eyes; looking at him, I said, “I will be unavailable for two, maybe three days. Thank you for your help. I don’t want to keep you from your guests.”
As if not hearing my words, he said, “You will be sleeping for days?”
“Yes,” I said, short and without explanation.
“Should I be contacting emergency?”
Slowly I responded, “No, I just have a sleeping disorder. All will be okay.” With that, I was gone.
Clark sat there for a while, still shaken by the actions of the past few minutes; he lay down next to Thom and just stared up at the ceiling. Turning to look at his neighbor, he noticed something hanging around his neck with a silver chain. It had a deep-blue stone, and it required a second, then a third look; it seemed to glow and surge with colour. He said to no one in particular, “I remember mood rings from years past, but this is something else.” Reaching over, he picked up the object; suddenly, there was a flash of white light, and he found himself somewhere unknown.
Chapter Three
Our flight arrived late afternoon, and it felt good to be able to stretch and relieve myself without a plane moving up and down, making it hard to hit the bull’s-eye. Paige had rushed out of the plane, claiming a need to clear her head and puff down several cigarettes before we caught our ride to the hotel. I headed down to collect my bags alone, hoping to move through customs without any issues. The lines, however, were long, and I started to feel the weight of the fourteen-hour flight. Handing back my passport, the redheaded tall customs agent asked if I had any alias.
“Yes, sir, just one,” I said.
“And what other name are you using?” He was emotionless and following a prewritten script.
“Bradleigh Munk, sir.”
With blank eyes, he said, “The author?”
“Yes, sir, here in person.”
“There’s not been a picture of you anywhere. How do we know you’re him?” Handing over my other form of ID, listing known-by and aliases, he stared in wonder. “I could get fired for this,” he said in a low voice, “but I really wanted to get your autograph. My whole crew wanted to come see you. However, we are all scheduled to work.”
In a low whisper, I said, “Tell your team to one at a time bring their copy of the book, and I’ll sign them. Delay me by searching through my bag, or make up something.”
Turning, he whispered to the agent next to him, and one by one, they wandered over and quietly slid their copies toward me. I opened the front cover and proceeded to sign them, using their name tags to personalize. Midway through this process, the redhead pulled out my very small container of Jif peanut butter. “Is this for personal consumption?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes, sir, I never go anywhere without it.”
“Just make sure you keep it to yourself.” He then put it back into my bag. With the last book safely hidden under his arm, my friendly customs agent cleared me for entrance into his country. Turning back at the crew, I nodded in silent respect; in unison, they all returned the favor.
“Where have you been? We’ve been waiting twenty minutes,” Paige asked as I wandered out looking for my ride.
“Long lines,” I said without explanation.
The next morning, we were scheduled to do our first book signing at nine. By eight thirty, I realized that my alarm had not gone off, and it was a mad rush to get ready for my first appearance with the British public. Crap, I thought, what a way to make an entrance. Rushing
