Chapter 1

I remember it was a sunny day in August when I got released from the rehab center in Greensboro N.C. At first I was a resident there. They held me hostage while my incision healed. They continued to keep me until I could walk unassisted by a human being. I didn’t rent the rolling walker, I bought one. I had an idea that I would need one just like it when I got older. That phony hip wasn’t going to ever be like my own, and all my wishful thinking wasn’t going to make it so. I did graduate to a cane by the time I got discharged in august.

Once I had the rehab release carved in stone, I went back to my tricycle. Since it was so under powered, I called it my bike. That was probably the reason the Rehab Tech encouraged me to ride it. When Thia explained its real nature, he wasn’t so enthusiastic. No matter, if I could ride a tricycle, I could ride the scooter. It was like riding a dining room chair with a motor.

Thia had insisted that she drive me to the rehab clinic after I moved home in July. She and her husband arranged for the builder who did the work on the place originally to come in for the repairs while I was away. I told Cynthia not to try to hide the patches. I wanted them visible to remind me of our shared trauma.

“You know, visiting you in Greensboro became an obsession with Thia,” her husband explained to me. It was over a pizza during my first weekend home. “That was the thing that drove her record recovery.”

“People who share trauma and survive often feel the need to stay connected,” I explained. It was all bullshit, but it sounded good to me. Thia just looked away during the discussion.

“So what is next?” she asked me.

“I have no idea. I have been out of touch with everyone for the last three months,” I explained. “Rehab was so inconvenient. My body was fucked up, but I thought my mind was fine. Still people and information couldn’t get in, it seemed.”

“Even when it wasn’t,” Thia informed me. Fortunately her husband stayed out of it. She often brought her son Jon to visit. But never the whole family. I could tell they were all stepping gently around me. They didn’t want to stir up anything around me. I have to admit my temper had a short fuse back in those days.

“Did you hear Mica and her husband split,” Thia asked as she chewed her pizza and sipped her beer.

“No, I haven’t heard from her since the hospital days,” I explained. “I did hear she got a permanent desk in the Detective section.”

“Yes, she did get a desk there. She even got a lot of respect for saving my ass,” Thia explained. “Valor under fire they called it.”

“She deserves to be on our Christmas Dinner invitation list,” I said looking her right in the eye.

“I thought of that already,” Thia admitted. “She is on the list and her kid is too.”

Thia said it looking hard at her husband. I had no idea what that was about and frankly I didn’t care.

I had been released from rehab for a whole day when I got a call from, Hammer and Tong Productions. They wanted me to consult on the production of season two of Alyson’s TV show. I had to make a decision within twenty four hours according to my contact person.

“We have been told you work better with women, so we are assigning a Jenifer Barnes to season two. Jenifer is not a writer, she is a facilitator. She has a copy of episode one ready for you. If you are agreeable we would like to send it to you to mark up. You know give it the flavor of someone who was there. That is what made season one such a hit. You knew that the writer got an Emmy nomination for her first script.”

“That’s nice, if I can do it from home I’ll take a look at it,” I agreed “Now let’s talk money.”

“How about two grand for just looking at it,” the producer said.

“You don’t have the rights to my story. How about ten grand for my release and rewrite. You might need to negotiate for Cynthia and Mica if you plan to use their characters in the series.” I demanded. “Our lawyer is a small town ambulance chaser, but he is the best ones around here.”

“Okay, but you are being a pain in the butt,” he said.

“Not really, you try getting your hip join shattered by a 9mm slug,” I said. “Now that is a pain in the butt.”

“Yeah I get it. I’ll have Jenifer send you the first draft script to read, so send me back the agreement with your bank information. That will indicate your agreement to the terms we set.” he said.

“Fair enough,” I agreed.

Since the weather was clear, and the temperature warm, and I had a new revenue stream, I called Mica for a dinner date. I needed to inform her about the draft script. The one I didn’t have yet.

“Mica are you going to be busy tonight?” I asked when I finally got her on the phone.

“Not at all. I do have a sink full of dirty dishes, that’s about all why?” she asked.

“I need to talk to you about what happened at the car wash,” I suggested. “How about dinner at the steak house on the highway.”

“Am I going to have to drive?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Can I bring Joy?”

“Of course you can. God knows we need a chaperon,” I admitted with a quiet laugh.

“You might be right about that,” Mica said. “So are you still an invalid?”

“No officially, but I haven’t tried a lot of the things I used to do. So I can’t say I’m as good as new. Hell, new wasn’t all that good.” I admitted.

“All right, I’m pretty sure I can out run you,” she suggested.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

“So I’ll be at the car wash at seven,” Mica agreed.

“Cool,” I said.

While I waited I kept watch in my email for the script. It came after lunch and well before Mica arrived to go to dinner. I managed to read half the first script.

Mica came right from work, so she was dressed business casual. She was even more cute than I remember. The tiny scars actually made her look better. She wore more make up since the shootout. That was a huge improvement.

“I can’t get over how great you look. It looks getting a face full of window glass agrees with you,” I said.

“Thank, but I’m not ready to recommend it for everyone,” she said.