《Gone Too Soon》 1. The Call There was always a process that he stuck to as if he had obsessive compulsive disorder. He''d always wake up at the same time, relieve himself and clean up in the bathroom, and then head to the kitchen to make his breakfast. The first serving of the day was also always the same, consisting of hot tea, two slices of toast, and a bowl of oatmeal. Peaches and cream was always his preference, as he enjoyed a little flavor in his manufactured gruel. His toast was only lightly browned and the topped with margarine and a cottage cheese. His tea was made with four spoons of sugar and a rather generous helping of one percent milk. Once the food was ready, he''d carry everything into the living room, and park himself in front at his desk and in front of his computers. There were two of them: a desktop with a pretty decent sized flat screen monitor along with a laptop on the side used to watch podcasts or watch videos on YouTube if things got rather boring. Breakfast was consumed while checking email and looking at stock sites while eating quietly. By the time he was finished eating all the small stuff was done and it was time to finally get to work. He sat down and stared at the empty page that just had a number that indicated what chapter would be the sole focus of his attention that day. Moments later he started to tap the keys in front of him and start to form words, sentences, and even paragraphs that actually made sense and were going somewhere. He was establishing a good pace until the cell phone started to sing a particular tune. The man at the desk stopped writing and looked at the phone and thought about what he should do, but let it go to voicemail. He could tell by the assigned ringtone that it was his older brother calling, and he decided to get back to him later rather than break the flow he was enjoying at the moment. Yet less than a minute later, the phone started to sing the same ringtone again a second time. Fuck me, he thought to himself. His brother would only call more than once if it was something urgent. They both had a standing agreement that if it was something that could wait, they''d call once and then wait to be called back. If one of them called more than once in a row, it was something that simply could not wait. He reluctantly picked up his cell phone and opened the line. "David," He started, "I''m actually writing right now, and I have a decent flow. Can this wait?" "I''m afraid not, Henry." David replied, "I need to tell you something rather important." Henry sat there and took another deep breath, and the stood up and walked away from his desk. He didn''t like to have his flow interrupted so if this was some bullshit like the announcement of a new movie or getting a good sale at the grocery store, he was going to go ballistic on his elder sibling. "What the hell is it then?" Henry asked. "It''s about Lou," David said, sounding more serious than usual. "What about her?" Henry said, as he hadn''t thought about Lou in quite a while. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "The cancer came back," David answered. "Fuck me," Henry said, as this was just another chapter in a long battle with the disease. "Is she alright?" "No," David replied, "She died three days ago." Upon hearing those words, Henry''s heart sank and he grabbed to nearby computer chair to make sure he didn''t lose his balance. He took another deep breath and carried on. "Son-of-a-bitch," he cursed again, knowing his brother didn''t mind. "Who did you hear it from?" "I talked to her sister, she asked me to get in touch with you." David said, "I''m sorry, man." "Thanks," Henry said, still processing it in his head. "Thanks for getting to me about this." "I''m here if you need someone to talk to," David continued, trying to be supportive. "I''ll be alright," Henry lied, "Any word on the service?" "It''s this Saturday," David answered, "Are you sure you want to go?" "I don''t know," Henry said, being rather honest, "I''ll have to think about it." "Fair enough," David said, "I can''t make it, as Beth and I are both working that day." "Don''t sweat it," Henry said, "You can''t miss work for that. They''ll understand that rent and food is also important." "I wish I could be there," David insisted, sounding remorseful on the phone. "I know," Henry said, "I''ll let them know that." "So you are going?" David said, sounding surprised. "I probably should," Henry said, thinking about it. "I don''t think I could live with the idea of not going and missing a chance for closure." "I''m heading to work, so try to stay positive." David said, "I''ll call you on the bus home." "Alright," Henry agreed, "Talk to you later." The line went dead, and Henry stood there in silence for what seemed like hours but was less than ten minutes. He slowly placed the cell phone back on the desk and slowly started to pace the room. He was not pleased to hear the news, despite not thinking about the person in question for years, a few of them actually. When was the last time he saw her? Henry racked his brain trying to figure it out and the answer popped into his brain. It was a brief encounter, a few years after they had broken up, just outside the mall. He was walking in to hand off some paper work with the city, and she was leaving after attending class. She started taking a medical receptionist course and was wearing purple scrubs. Henry remembered she looked good in them and he had said he was happy to hear she was doing well. Lou looked good and even healthy at the time, only spoke for a moment and then said good-bye. Not the worst last encounters someone could have with a person they used to be close with. It could have been a lot worse, their last encounter could have been their break up. Henry walked back into the kitchen to get another drink, only this time something much stronger. Henry took a bottle of vodka out of the cupboard, and then poured a few fingers into a rather tall glass. He grabbed the kid''s orange juice from the fridge, and grinned a bit as he poured the OJ into the glass to top it off. Screwdrivers was actually Lou''s favorite, so it was fitting that this was what he would use to take the edge off. Henry took another deep breath and then drank the entire glass in less than ten seconds, downing it all in one turn. Right after finishing the drink, he turned around and threw the glass at the wall with extreme prejudice. It shattered into a million pieces and fell to the floor in many slivers. "God damn you, Louanne," Henry said, almost growling the words. "You always knew how to fuck up my flow." 2. Hitting The Sauce That screwdriver was on the first of many. Henry didn''t seem to care because the damage was already done: the flow was gone. To Henry writing was like riding a bike, and when you get on a good run you never want it to end and just keep riding till it''s over. Getting that call about Lou was the equivalent to falling off that bike after hitting a pothole in the road. Even if he tried to get back on the bike, getting back into a groove was often difficult to get back after its been lost. When the vodka bottle was finished, Henry heaved it into the wall with force and shattered it into a million pieces. He almost hit the exact same spot where he had earlier tossed the glass into, and there was not a low of glass scattered all over the floor. he cussed and swore the whole time as he grabbed the broom and cleaned up the mess. Last thing he needed was one of the dogs or the kids to step into it and cut their foot open. An emergency trip to the ER or a local vet wasn''t going to put him in a better mood, so Henry cleaned it all up but grumbled the entire time while he did so. After the glass was all swept up and disposed of, Henry went back to the kitchen for reinforcements. This time, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey. An expensive bottle that he was saving for a special occasion, but none ever came forward since he bought the damn thing. He just wanted something stronger, so now was the right time to break open that bad boy as he opened it and just drank right out of the bottle. He was about three slugs into the bitter shit when there the door bell went off. Henry stood there and paused for a moment, thinking who the hell that could be. "Who is it?" He called out. There as no answer, so Henry strolled closer to the door. "Who the fuck is it?" He called out again. "Henry, it''s Trevor!" a voice called from behind the main door. "Shit," Henry said as he walked over to the door, unlocked it and swung it open. There stood Trevor, his agent. The man was carrying a briefcase and was dressed to the tees, which was exact opposite of his client. Henry was only wearing a wife beater, boxers and a brown robe. "Trevor," Henry said, trying to act civil, "I don''t remember having anything scheduled." "Something came up," Trevor said, as he noticed the bottle in his hand. "Are you hitting the sauce at eleven in the morning?" "Yes, I am." Henry confirmed. "And I honestly don''t care. Last time I checked this was still the land of the free, the home of the brave, and it''s fucking five o''clock somewhere. What the hell do you want?" Trevor stood there almost frozen as he suddenly realized Henry was not in a good mood to discuss anything with him, let along business that annoyed him even on good days. "Are you alright, Henry?" Trevor asked, somewhat concerned. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "No, I''m not." Henry said, "The flow is already gone, and that''s when the drinking stated." "I''m sorry about that," Trevor said. "Not your fault," Henry said, walking away from the door and leaving his agent to stay there or come inside. "What''s going on?" Trevor said, as he walked in and closed the door behind him. "Who interrupted your flow before I got here." Henry turned around to face his agent. "Lou stopped today''s flow." "Louanne?" Trevor said, surprised to hear her name. "What the hell did she want? Forget that, let me get on the phone with our lawyers. I can have a restraining order filed by mid afternoon." "That won''t be necessary," Henry said, taking a swig of his bottle. "Not this time." "What makes you so sure?" Trevor asked, somewhat concerned, "The last time we had to deal with her, Lou almost burned this place to the ground!" "It needed a remodel anyway," Henry said, thinking about it. "I''m sure it won''t happen again." "Is she here right now?" Trevor said, frantically looking around. "She''s not here," Henry said, "She''s not anywhere." "We can''t take any chances," Trevor insisted, "Let me make the call." "Don''t bother," Henry said, taking his agents phone from him. "She''s no longer going to cause trouble for anyone. Louanne Harris has shuffled off this mortal coil." "What?" Trevor said, stunned to hear that news. "When did that happen?" "David called me about it a short while ago," Henry said, taking another slug from the bottle. "He said the cancer came back and she passed on a few days ago." "And that''s why your flow is gone," Trevor said, as he reached out his hand. "What?" Henry said, looking at him. "Give me the bottle," Trevor requested. "So you can what, pour it down the drain?" Henry inquired. "No, so I can take a shot." Trevor said, "So unless you have cooties, pass it over!" Henry thought about it for a moment and then passed the whiskey bottle to his agent. Trevor was around for the time he was with Louanne, so his agent was one of the few people who knew and understood why Henry was drinking at eleven in the morning. "I can''t believe it," Trevor said, taking a strong swig. "I thought she was cancer free?" "She was the last time I talked to her." Henry said, taking his bottle back. "Damn, when was the last time you did see her?" Trevor asked. "Years," Henry said, "And that last time was a nice, friendly encounter. She was healthy and training for a new job. She seemed happy." "Shit," Trevor said, "Leave it to life to take people just as they turn things around." "No kidding," Henry said, "So no offense, but what the hell are you doing here? What was so bloody urgent that you had to come here and interrupt my unhealthy day drinking?" "It can wait," Trevor said, feeling rather uncomfortable about it now. "You''re here," Henry said, "Give me an idea so I can think about it later when I''m sober." "I''m not sure," Trevor said, "I came in the morning hoping to catch you at a good time." "Trevor," Henry said, looking at him rather sternly. "Spill it." Trevor took the bottle back from Henry and took another large swig from it. "I have a TV offer from one of the cable networks," Trevor started, "I realize you never want to work in TV again or sell anything to anyone... but you have to hear me out. This offer is so massive, I have to at least tell you about it or I wouldn''t be doing my job." Henry hated the idea of his work being adapted for television, as he saw a lot of his colleagues get their life''s work butchered to entertain the moronic masses. He swore that he''d never take a any offer from television, but Trevor was putting himself out there to make sure this offer was heard. He took the bottle back from his agent, and took another big swig himself. "Alright," Henry said, "What''s the offer?" 3. Take the Money and Run Henry took a seat on his favorite couch, and took occasional swigs of whiskey while listening to Trevor go over the basics of the project being proposed by the cable network in question. He tried his best to pay attention, but there was a lot of details and he just wasn''t in the mood to hear many of them that day. It was close to a half hour into the pitch, that Henry started to lose his patience, and want to skip to the end. "Trevor, this is getting annoying," Henry said, as he stood up and started to pace the room. "Just give me the skinny, what do they want and how much are they offering?" "Okay," Trevor said, sighing deeply, "You want the bare buns, I can dig that. The studio wants to have full creative control, because they don''t want a repeat of the fights you had with directors and actors on the set." "I see," Henry said, as he continued to pace. "And how much are we talking here?" "Five million dollars," Trevor answered, "As well as a decent percent of the royalties that the show might incur." "If they want full control," Henry said, thinking about it. "Then I want ten." "Really?" Trevor said as he was a tad surprised by his response, "You don''t seem to concerned about your story being ruined?" "It''s not my favorite book," Henry confessed, "Odds are it could use some new life breathed into it. Tell them if the give me ten million plus royalties, they can do whatever the fuck they want and I will never visit the set... ever." "Are you sure about that?" Trevor asked. "Yeah, I am." Henry said, grinning back at him. "Let''s see how bad these pricks want it." "You''re not worried about scaring them away?" Trevor asked. "I''m not," Henry confirmed, "If they can''t be bothered to accept or offer a counter, then they don''t deserve to put my work on their channel." "So you''re open to counters?" Trevor repeated. "I am," Henry said, "But don''t let them off easy, squeeze as much as you can out of them. If they manage to counter with anything higher than seven, then accept it." "Alright, that seems fair." Trevor said, standing up. "I''ll pass along your counter." "Do that," Henry said, as he walked over to the door and opened it. "No offense, dude... but considering the circumstances, I don''t want to see you for the rest of the day." "I get it, and I am sorry to hear about Lou." Trevor said as he walked to the door. "I wasn''t fond of her but I am sorry to hear of her passing. So what its worth, my condolences." "Thanks," Henry said, as he knew that sincere. "Just one more thing." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. "Hit me," Trevor said, eager to help out. "Lou''s service is possibly this weekend," Henry explained, "I need you to look up the details and book hotels if its really out of our way." "Our way?" Trevor repeated. "Oh yes, our way." Henry said, "You''re coming with me." "I am?" Trevor asked. "I''m afraid so," Henry confirmed, "I need at least one friendly face there to help out in case things get sticky." "What about my wife?" Trevor asked, "We might have plans!" "Tell her why, and she''ll understand." Henry said, confident she would. "Hell, if she wants to come along and pay her respects, she can come too." "Never thought of that," Trevor admitted, "She did kinda know Lou a bit too." "Check with her and find out," Henry ordered, "And then figure out what expenses we need to cover to make this happen. I need you there, even if I have to pay for it. Alright?" "Alright," Trevor said, "I''ll look into it." Trevor walked out the door, and Henry slammed it to prevent the man from trying to get any other words in before they were finished. He quickly locked the door and strolled back into the living room to grab his whiskey bottle, which was over half finished when he grabbed it. Henry looked at the bottle and had thought about buying more but good judgement got the best of him at the moment. He strolled into the kitchen and considering looking for something to have for lunch, but he was feeling rather lazy and didn''t want to make anything. Finally Henry decided that it was best to leave the house and get a little air. His flow was already gone, but sometimes hanging out at his favorite pub helped bring it back. Not often, but sometimes. Henry took a nice hot shower, which sobered him up a bit from the drinking he had already done. He was tempted to shave, but decided to keep the four day stub as he wasn''t in the mood to impress anyone or act like he was trying to make company. Henry decided to take an uber to his favorite pub, not only because he was still too intoxicated to drive, but he definitely was going to be for the trip back. No point taking out the car when he shouldn''t be using it at all that day. It took only a short time to get to the pub, and have something strong to take down. "Henry!" the barkeep called out when he noticed the writer strolling in. "Hey, Jeffrey." Henry said as he walked up to the bar and took a stool for himself. "What will it be?" Jeffrey asked, surprise to see him so early. "I''ll have an old fashioned," Henry replied, "No ice." "Lost the flow already?" Jeffrey asked, surprised to hear his order. "Fraid so, bud." Henry said, taking the drink and helping himself to a nice swig. "I''m gonna have to try the old school method made famous by Ernest." "Hemingway?" Jeffrey guessed. "Yeah, that bloke." Henry confirmed, "Someone told me he once said write drunk and edit sober. I''m going to take that to hear and so some shit faced writing tonight." "That''s too bad," A soft voice called out from behind. Jeffrey and Henry but turned around to see an angelic looking blonde haired lady stroll up to the bar and sit down beside Henry. "I was hoping you''d buy me a drink," she said, extending a hand to shake. "I''m Tricia." "This is Henry," Jeffrey said, "He''s a writer." "Is he now?" Tricia replied, mildly intrigued. "Maybe I should but the drink for you." "Ouch," Jeffrey said, also laughing at the burn. "That was cruel," Henry said, also chuckling a bit, "But it was still funny. Inaccurate, but funny." "So, you''re actually a writer that does well for himself?" Tricia said, poking him on. "I''ve never seen one out in the wild." "We''re a finicky bunch," Henry admitted, "Rather hard to tame." It was at the moment that Henry''s phone began to buzz, so he pulled the cell out of his pocket and looked at it. The buzzing was a text message from is agent: The studio accepted your counter for ten million. Henry looked at it and smiled. "Good news?" Tricia asked as she noticed the change in mood. "You could say that," Henry said, looking back at her. "And it was badly needed as the news I got earlier today was pretty bad. But now I will buy you that drink..." 4. A Lady Of The Night Usually whenever Henry arrived at his pub this early in the day, the barkeep knew that wasn''t a good sign. That would only mean the flow had left early and the day was a total disaster. If the writer entered the establishment after supper, it was safe for him to assume that the day was better and the words and pages had been successfully composed. Yet today Henry was strolling in before lunch and with a look that could kill people on his face. Without even being asked, the barkeep started to make his favorite drink and had it already on the bar in front of his chair before the grumpy writer took his usual seat. Henry looked down at the drink and then back up at his barkeep. "Not what I was going to order," Henry confessed, "But it''s there, so how could I refuse?" Henry grabbed the drink and slowly began to nurse it. He was tempted to just down it but decided against that as he didn''t want to start pounding down shoots that early in the day. One of the bouncers came walking over and gave Henry a friendly pat on his back. "Flow gone already?" he asked. "It is," Henry confessed, "But it wasn''t my fault this time, Gerry." "It wasn''t?" Gerry replied, "What happened then?" "It was Lou," Henry said, taking another sip. "God dammit," Gerry said, well aware of who she was. "What did she do this time?" "She died," Henry replied, "That was enough to shake me out of my groove." "Shit," Gerry said, "I knew you two had issues but she was never mean to me. She was always kind to me and the staff, so I''m sorry to hear of her passing. What the hell happened to her?" "It was the cancer," Henry answered, "It came back about a year ago. She couldn''t beat it this time out." "Damn," Gerry said, "Cancer sucks." "You can say that again," Henry concurred. Gerry slapped the bar with an open hand, "Cancer fucking sucks!" "I''ll drink to that," Henry said, as he drained the rest of his glass, and then waved at the barkeep to bring him a refill. "Sorry about your loss man," Gerry said, "Despite all the shit you put each other through, I know you dug her in your own way. My condolences." Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Thank you," Henry said, "I did dig her, even if in my own way." "I''ll leave you to it," Gerry said patting him on the back again, "I got work to do too." "Talk to ya later," Henry said, and didn''t even look as Gerry took his leave. He just sat there at the bar and nursed his new drink. Henry sat there at the bar and nursed a few drinks, until someone strolled over and parked right next to him without asking. He looked up at her to realized it was a rather nice looking blonde, with an hourglass frame and a killer smile. The kind of woman Henry could see himself falling for too quickly, causing a lot more chaos in his life. He was unsure if wanted to speak to her, or any other woman this of all days but Henry wasn''t given much of a choice. "Hello handsome," she said to him. "Greetings," Henry said, returning the pleasantries. "You look a little down," she said. "Is it that obvious?" Henry asked. "A little bit," the lady replied, "Something happen?" "Someone I used to care about left this mortal coil." Henry said, as he re-positioned himself to face his new guest. "You used to care about?" the lady repeated. "I guess I still care," Henry admitted, "But she''s an ex, so I didn''t care enough to keep contact or rescind the restraining order." "I''m sure there''s an amazing story there," she said, sounding intrigued. "There is," Henry admitted, "And I should know, I''m a writer." "So you lie for a living?" the lady asked. "I exaggerate for a living," Henry corrected her, "For the entertainment of others." "That''s a good way to look at it," the lady said, "Any profession can be made to look better if you choose the right words." "So, what is your profession?" Henry asked, despite already knowing and was just playing dumb because he was curious to hear her answer. "I am what is called a lady of the night," she replied, "But you could also say that I''m a personal trainer since I do help people get some well needed exercise. That might be the only cardio some of my clients do all week." "So, you''re a prostitute?" Henry asked. "I prefer the term companion," she replied, "But you can call me Dorothy." "Is that because you have the power to take me over the rainbow?" Henry said, clearly having fun with her at this point. "That''s a nice way to put it," Dorothy said, smiling back. "I''ll have to steal that line." "That one''s on the house," Henry said, appreciating her sense of humor. "But the next catch phrase is gonna cost you, and I''m not cheap." "Neither am I." Dorothy said, winking. "So what does a companion do, exactly?" Henry asked, just making conversation at this point. "The same thing you every lady in my profession does," Dorothy answered, "But I like to add that human element to it that makes it feel real. The pillow talk, the snuggling, the little things that men are missing from the relationships that have gone stale and dried up. "Which is actual companionship?" Henry said, "I guess that fits." "You see," Dorothy said, nursing her own drink. "Companion best fits me." "So, what are you going rates?" Henry asked, as he was still curious. Dorothy leaned over and softly whispered into his ear, giving him rates for the evening. "Doesn''t sound too bad," Henry said, being rather honest about it. He then leaned over and whispered something back into the lady''s ear. "Well," Dorothy said, grinning back at Henry. "I like that idea very much." "Let''s get something to eat first," Henry said, "I hate exercising on an empty stomach." 5. The Day After Henry never got any complaints when it came to his love making skills. Both he and Dorothy never had any trouble working up a sweat as they pleased each other for a fair amount of time. And yet he couldn''t help but thing of someone else while he was doing his thing, distracted by the news that came to him earlier that day. It was the most inappropriate time to think about Lou, and yet there he was with her on his mind despite the beautiful woman in bed with him in a fairly nice hotel. After the deed was done more than a few times, Dorothy went to the bathroom to freshen up while Henry laid on his back and stared at the ceiling with his mind still somewhere else. He just couldn''t help it, and he had a feeling it was going to be this way for days leading up to the service that he knew was unavoidable. "You really did love her, didn''t you?" Dorothy called out from the other room. "Excuse me?" Henry called out, hoping for her to say it again. "This woman you''re mourning," Dorothy said as she emerge from the bathroom wearing only the hotel''s large towel. "You were here in mind, but not in spirit." "I''m sorry," Henry said, looking back at the ceiling. "It wasn''t intentional." "Don''t fret about it," Dorothy called back out, "I''m used to working with people who are distracted by one thing or another. It''s more common than you think. People hook up for the distraction, but sometimes that''s just not possible." "That''s some pretty deep pillow talk," Henry said, sighing. "I''ll be the first to admit that her passing has hit me hard, and I was trying to use you to forget it about it." "I''m afraid it''s not that easy, sport." The lovely lady replied, "I''ve spelt with enough widows to know that. I realize it wasn''t like that between you, but love takes on all forms, and not just the cookie cutter idea we all long for." "Do you long for it?" Henry asked, rather curious to hear her answer. "Sometimes," Dorothy honestly answered, "But then good judgement gets the best of me and I got back to my nine to five, metaphorically speaking of course." "No judgement coming from me, girl." Henry said, trying to make himself comfortable. "I appreciate that," Dorothy said, "But I know where I reside in the totem pole. I make do with what I have and survive anyway." "That''s a very progressive attitude to have about it," Henry admitted, "But I appreciate you deciding to come into work today. I''m not sure how my badly my day could have gone without that necessary course correction." This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "I could sense that too," Dorothy admitted, "But that usually means good business for me so I did it for selfish reasons too." "I was in a bad spot," Henry said as he laid back down and stared at the ceiling. "My agent would probably be bailing me out right now if things went differently. The last time she got under my skin, I got into a brawl and broke someone''s nose." "She got under it often I take it?" Dorothy asked. "It was her specialty." Henry said, "She did it more often than I''d like to admit." "And she''s still there, isn''t she?" "She is," Henry said, sighing deeply. "Sorry if that sounds weird." "Nope, not weird," Dorothy said, "Very profitable actually." Suddenly Henry''s cell phone started to ring, and he could tell who it was based on the ringtone and he grinned a bit as he reached over and opened the line. "Trevor!" Henry said, as he put the phone on speaker so Dorothy could enjoy it too. "What''s up, man? Why are you calling me at seven in the morning?" "I''m just glad to hear you''re okay," Trevor said, "I''ve been checking hospitals and cells around town." "Calm down, cowboy." Henry said, slightly amused. "I''m alright. I crashed at a hotel and am just vegging out. All is well." "Oh, alright." Trevor said, as he was able to breath a bit better now. "Did you get any details about the service?" he asked his agent. "I did," Trevor said, "It is this weekend, and it''s out of town. Do you want me to book a few rooms and we''ll fly up?" "I''d rather drive," Henry admitted, "I don''t want to fly." "That will take at least two days," Trevor informed him, "Are you sure about that?" "I am," Henry said, "Book a hotel at the halfway point, and one at our destination for at least a few days." "A few days?" Trevor repeated. "Yes, a few days." Henry confirmed, "There are some people I need to chat with, a some issues to resolve. Don''t worry, I am bringing the laptop with me so some writing might get done if I can find some flow out there." "Alright, that sounds good." Trevor said, warming up to the idea. "Considering the slice of that new show you''re getting," Henry reminded him, "Giving me a ride and paying your respects to Lou is the least you can do." "Hey, she was a bitch to you," Trevor said, "But she was nice to me. I wouldn''t mind going to pay my respects. So let''s do this. I''ll rent a nice car and we''ll hit the road." "Good man," Henry said, as he liked to get his way. "Now leave me alone, I''ve got cocaine to sniff off a hooker''s ass." "Wait, what??" Trevor said, now sounding concerned. "I''m kidding," Henry said, having a good laugh. "We don''t like cocaine." "Thank goodness," Trevor said, "Hey, what do you mean we??" "Talk to you tomorrow, Trev." Henry said before dropping the line. "I take it that was your agent?" Dorothy said, mildly amused by the conversation. "Yup, that was my pimp." Henry said, laying back down and relaxing. "He takes twenty percent so I pay him enough to put up with my bullshit." "For that much, he should." She said with a laugh, "And for the record, I don''t mind a little cocaine every now and then." "Tempting," Henry said, "But I''m not ready to go Gonzo this week, I prefer to be clean when I do my writing. Maybe next time..." Dorothy gave a playful laugh as Henry grabbed her and dragged her back to bed for another round of playful rough housing. 6. Making Big Plans The night with Dorothy was just what Henry needed, as he expended a lot of energy and stress out of his system throughout the night and early morning. He paid the bills, left a very generous tip for the lady and then took an uber back to his crib. Once back in the big house, Henry poured himself a scotch, getting some hair of the dog action going, and then sat down in front of his main desktop and turned on the monitor. The page he was working on when the call came in to tell him about Lou was still there, patiently waiting for him to return and pay attention to it again. Henry sat down, took a deep breath and started to write. After taking a day off to let off some steam seemed to do the trick as the flow has returned, and the words were flowing like a river coming down from the mountains. A small smile crept across Henry''s friend like he was welcoming an old friend that had returned from a long trip. He was feeling it as the words were coming out and meeting the page like two lovers in a deep, passionate embrace. It was on days like this when Henry wished time would slow down so that he could milk as many words out of it as he possibly could. He sat there at the desk, writing like a madman before it happened. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! The sound came echoing throughout the rooms, and it almost sounded like the kind of knock you''d hear before the police came crashing through the door. Henry stopped writing, but rather than respond, he took a deep breath, and went back to work. He didn''t give a shit who it was, and if it was important... KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Henry let out a loud groan, as this was the last thing that he wanted. "Go the fuck away!" He screamed from his den, but the room was probably too far away from the main doors to be heard. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! It was at this moment as Henry looked back at the screen when he realized what had happened; the flow was gone. He growled rather loudly as he hopped out of his chair and started to walked toward the main doors. "Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!" he called out as he marched to the main doors with purpose. As he swung the doors open, standing there was his agent Trevor. He was holding something to eat along with a few bottles of orange juice. He looked rather happy with himself but that soon changed when he noticed the rather angered, red face of his client. "Henry?" Trevor started, looking a little worried now. "Are you alright?" "Trevor," Henry started, sounding much calmer than he really was. "Regardless of what I''m about to do, please remember that I do love you and appreciate the efforts that you''ll be making on my behalf this weekend." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Trevor looked confused, "What do you mean..." Without warning, Henry bitch slapped his agent with a hard open hand. Despite hitting hard enough to knock the man off his feet, Henry reached out and grabbed his collar to prevent that from happening. Trevor paused for a moment and then finally realized what had happened. "Aw shit," Trevor said, "You were flowing?" "I was," Henry confirmed, "But not anymore. Come on in." Trevor did his best to apologize, begging for forgiveness, but none was needed. Henry knew that his agent meant well and didn''t do it on purpose. The fact that he brought supplies with him was actually helpful and might help him get it back once the bald fuck left, which was going to happen sooner than later. "What''s up," Henry asked, taking one of the bags from him. "Well, I wanted to go over our plans for the weekend," Trevor confirmed, "I rented out a rather sweet SUV, and I did that for space more than anything else. The thing gets good mileage, easy to rest in and floats like a cloud. I figured the space might be helpful if you bump into anything and impulse shop." "That''s a good point," Henry said, as he understood Trevor''s thinking. The last time he and Trevor traveled together, his agent learned the hard way that Henry loved to hit antique shops and especially flea markets always hunting for a good deal. This time his agent was making sure the car has some extra space to make sure they could handle any impulse purchases. "I do suggest we keep the spending to a minimum until after the services," Trevor suggested, "Last thing you need is to come off as insensitive. They already don''t like you probably." "I''m sure some of them like me," Henry said, feeling hurt. "I mean she burned a lot of bridges so I think there will be just as many people who know what I went through rather than looking to point fingers and lay blame." "Let''s assume we''re going to encounter a bit of both," Trevor said, "That way we''ll be ready for both and be able to duck and cover when necessary." "Where shall we be staying?" Henry asked. "I booked us two very nice rooms as the Red Roost." Trevor said, "This one happens to have a pool, but it might be too chilly for that. They have room service and are close by to some very nice places where we can eat anytime we like!" Henry looked back at his agent, with a look of utter disgust. "Red Roost?" Henry said, taking a deep breath. "Was the Holiday Inn unavailable?" "Hey," Trevor said, sensing the hostility. "Before you say a thing, this is strategic!" "Strategic?" Henry said, suddenly more curious and frustrated. "Expand." "I thought it would be best," Trevor said, "Because if someone got angry enough to try to hunt you down, that would be the last place anyone would look for you." Henry stood there and thought about it, and then let out a bellowing laugh. He was right, that was the last place anyone would look for someone as articulate as Henry. Hell, his own disgust proved that not even he would suspect to find himself there. "I like your thinking," Henry said, taking away his orange juice, "You better have vodka to go with that." "Of course I do," Trevor said, pulling out the sixty ouncer of Smirnoff. "Excellent," Henry said, strolling back to the kitchen, "Let''s make lunch and go over all the details!"