Sample chapter....

K, this is a sample chapter from the sequel to my first novel… how exciting!   Watch for it – coming soon to flea markets and second hand thrift stores in 2013!

       

                                   The Red Bike of Destiny

Or

How I found Enlightenment through Eating French Fries

CHAPTER ONE

This story is completely true.  Not even the names have been changed.  The way I see it, everyone in this story does something rotten at one point or another, and we should all own up to it, not hide behind some made up name.   It’s all about accountability, and making sure that the public is aware of our heinous deeds. 

 

For the record, my name is Brock, Brock Manly. My fiancée’s name is Golda Sweetbody.  Ha ha… just kidding.  But if we ever did decide to legally change our names, those would be the ones that I would choose, because let’s face it; I’m cool like that.    Plus, I have the dorkiest name in recorded history.  It’s Zachary, which isn’t so bad, but once you add the Kinfleisich to it, it isn’t pretty.  So that’s me, Zachary Kinfleisich, and if my fiancée had any sense, she’d make me change it to Brock Manly so she wouldn’t get stuck walking around with a last name like mine.  She says she doesn’t mind though.  Go figure women.

 

Cynthia (that’s my fiancée, Cynthia Tiernan) is really gorgeous.  I mean she’s like this knock down, drag out beauty of a woman.   I’m not saying that to brag, because when we walk around in public, everyone takes a look at us and thinks, “That guy must be rich.”  Which is their witty way of saying, “That guy is way too homely to end up with a woman like that.”  And they’re right; I am way too homely to end up with Cynthia.   But if you’re still away figuring out women, then while you’re at it, go figure love.

 

From my end, it’s a no brainer, because she’s hot, and to rub salt in the wound, she’s the rich one, not me.   She’s also smart and funny and a whole bunch of other things that add to her being quite the catch.  All signs point to me being in love with her, but what’s her story?  Is she nuts or something?  Yes, but that’s not the reason.  So what could it be you ask?  Is this homely writer with a goofy name some kind of sexual dynamo who can seduce any woman?  Probably, but the real answer is this: Magic.  To be more precise, Magical Destiny is the reason we’re together.   You see, we fell in love after knowing each other for only a few days and a year later, we’re still together.  Despite me being almost invisibly average in both looks and personality, she still maintains under oath that she loves me.  I hope that gives you some inspiration in case you’re some average looking person desperately in love with someone so amazing that you think it’s impossible that they could ever love you back.  It could happen, it could be Magical Destiny.   Or you could just be some weirdo stalker without a hope in hell.   If that’s the case, stop it right now, before they slap a restraining order on you.  

 

In my case, it really is Magical Destiny.   I know because we’ve been through all the trials and tribulations of a budding romance and survived long enough to actually be at the stage where we’re planning our wedding.  At least Cynthia is, because planning for weddings is just one more thing that I’m useless at.   It’s all been up to her, doing all the phoning around, calling caterers and wedding planners and setting up these elaborate wedding scenarios like the two of us getting hitched in front of a waterfall, or in some grand church or something involving a horse drawn carriage.  The best idea was to hold it in a two-minute wedding chapel in Vegas.  By the way, that last idea was mine, and it didn’t go over well.   I guess I’m not the most romantic guy in the world.

 

This is further proof about the whole Magical Destiny thing, because this dreamboat sticks with me even though I can’t come up with even one romantic wedding scenario.  I should pause here and give you a warning: If you’re one of those people who gets all antsy when confronted with things like Destiny and Magic and Things Otherworldly, then you better stop reading right now and go watch some TV, because this book is just rife with that kind of junk.   Don’t feel bad if you have to quit reading, because I used to be just like that.  I hated all things ethereal, metaphysical and spiritual, but all that changed when I met Cynthia and her brother.

 

Her brother is dead by the way and I’m not going to rehash the whole story behind it.  If you’re at all interested, you can go read about it in a fabulous tale called, “The Infallible Heart of Andy Tiernan”.  A book, as some critics have said, “Is the most important book ever written, way better than War and Peace.”   Truthfully, no critic has ever said that, but if they did, they would be one hundred percent correct.

 

Anyway, this new, fabulous tale (which at this point (3 pages) is already way better than stupid War and Peace) takes place just as Cynthia was at the end of her rope with me in regards to the whole wedding planning extravaganza. 

 

“Do you like these table arrangements?”  She asked while I was reading a copy of Mad Magazine.

I glanced at the glossy display in the much brooded over bridal magazine.  “Yup.”

She immediately rolled up the magazine and swatted me on the side of my head.  “You didn’t even look at it!”

I sighed, “Cynth, I trust your judgment.  I honestly have no clue about any of this.”  This was about the eightieth time in the past month that I’d made this confession.

“Then get a clue!”  She snapped.  “We’re not planning MY wedding, we’re planning OUR wedding!”

“But all that matters is that I’m with you…”

“Don’t try that old “all that matters” crap again!  This is important to me!”

“I know that, but…”

“The wedding is in three weeks!  You haven’t given one piece of constructive input into the whole thing.  Tricia, Beverley and Sue have been trying to get you involved but you won’t even…”

Tricia, Beverley and Sue were Cynthia’s bridesmaids and you never saw a more annoying pack of pruning, pastel preppies in your life.  It was like they were created for the sole purpose of squawking and nattering over bridal magazines for their entire lives. 

 

Cynthia cut in on my annoyed reverie, “You haven’t even decided on a best man!”

“Of course I have.”  I said with a surly tone that I felt was pretty appropriate.  “Bobby’s going to be my best man.”

“BOBBY?”  She practically screamed the name.

“Sure, why not?”

“How can he be your best man?”

“He’s my…” I was going to say that he was my best friend, but the fact is, I barely knew him.  He was a forty something no talent dried up lounge singer from Las Vegas.   Not that those facts stopped him from being able to be my best friend.  The truth was, in the year and a half that I knew him, I think I’d only talked to him about 3 times.  And each time we spoke it was because he wanted me to lend him money.   To make matters worse, I hadn’t even spoken to him about the wedding.  I tried reaching him through this run down dive of a nightclub in Vegas where he used to work, but he’d left without a forwarding address.

 

How sad is that? you’re probably thinking to yourself.  This loser doesn’t even have a single solitary friend better qualified that some old hack from Vegas to stand up and be his best man.   Normally I’d argue with you, but you’re right, it is sad.   Cynthia didn’t quite share your sympathy though.

 

“He’s a creep!”

“Well yeah…”

“And there’s no way he’s going to be your best man!  Why not James, from school?”

“James?”

“The tall guy!”

“If you have to remind me who James is, he hardly qualifies as a friend worthy enough to be a best man.  Should I just go up to and say, “Hey tall guy, what are you doing on the 15^th?  Want to be my best man at my wedding?  I’m Zach by the way.” If I even asked him, he’d think I was the biggest loser to ever disgrace the planet.”

“How about…” She paused to think of someone else and then she looked at my cocked eyebrow and figured that I was looking smug, like I had just won an argument.  

“You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself considering that you have no friends.”  Sometimes Cynthia can be cruel.  It helps to balance out her looks.

 

“I’m not pleased with myself!  How pleased would you feel if you didn’t have anyone decent to be your best man?  It’s about time you faced up to the fact that you’re marrying a loser.”

“Aw Zach,” she said soothingly.  “I knew you were a loser from day one.”

I ignored her last comment. “I’m just not a people person!  People annoy me!  You know that!”

“Do I annoy you too?”

If I was an honest man I would have answered yes, there were a lot of times where she did in fact annoy me.   Thankfully I’m not that honest or stupid.  “Of course not.  I love you.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and get with the program!”

Friendless losers with hot fiancées have to take this kind of abuse all the time, so I shrugged in response.  Then suddenly I had an epiphany.  I’m sure my eyes were glowing with excitement as I said, “I heard about this wedding where it was reversed.”

“What was reversed?”  She asked suspiciously.

“The whole best man thing.  You see, the groom was best friends with this girl that he’d known since they were little kids.   The girl was a lesbian or something, but that’s not important.   Coincidentally the bride was also best friends with a guy that she’d known since…”

“So the girl was the best man and the guy was the maid of honor?”

“Exactly!”

“But you’re not friends with any girls.”

“Yeah, but maybe you could lend me one of your bridesmaids and get some guy from work who can be in your retinue.  That way…”

“LEND you one of my bridesmaids?”

“And to balance things out, you could get whatshisname to be…”

“That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I scowled at her. “First you complain that I’m not putting any effort into the wedding…”

“And these table arrangements…” She began, but I cut her off.

“I don’t care about the table arrangements!”

 

It was her turn to cock an eyebrow at me and I knew that I had said the wrong thing.  She didn’t wait to hear what my next lame line was going to be and she stood up and marched out of the living room and down the hall.

 

That’s the downside to my theory.  You think that if you’re with someone because of Magical Destiny then you don’t have to do squat except tiptoe through the tulips and everything will always be sunsets and slow dances, but the truth is, any relationship takes work.  So I stood up and sullenly marched down the hall, up the stairs and went into our bedroom.   She was lying down on the bed, the bridal magazine clutched like a stuffed animal. 

 

“Cynthia…”

She glared at me, which caused me to lose my train of thought and stand there like an oaf.  “What is it?”  She snapped.

“I love you.”

“Big deal.”

“That hurts.” I said.

“If you love me, you’d care about this.  You’d realize this was important and get off your lazy butt to help me.  I’m beginning to wonder if you even care about marrying me.”

“Of course I do!  But as a guy…”

“Don’t give me that ‘as a guy’ crap.”  Suddenly she changed the topic to one that I wasn’t at all comfortable with.  “Your father called again.”

 

The only good thing about her bringing up my dad was that it took me off the defensive.   I don’t have a lot of fondness for him as he ran off with his secretary when I was 13 years old and I hadn’t seen him since.  

 

“So?”  I said.

“I think you should talk to him.”  She said with softness in her voice that usually made me melt.  I remained firm though.

“I think he should hurry up and die.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

 

I walked out of the bedroom but Cynthia is pretty quick and by the time I reached the stairs she was right in front of me, stopping me from going any further. 

 

“He wants to come to the wedding.”

“You talked to him?”  I asked, feeling blood start to rush into my face.

“Of course I talked to him.  I told you he called.  What did you expect me to do?  Hang up on him?”

“I would have.”

“I’m not the one with the issues.”

“I don’t have issues!”

“OK sweetie.”  She said, as patronizingly soft as possible.

 

I went around her and stalked down the stairs.  Of course I have issues.  I don’t have any friends, I’m estranged from my father, I live in constant anxiety over being engaged to a superior being and to top it off I was being vilified over how much of a dork I was.   I went straight back to my MAD magazine but not even the C.S.I parody wasn’t making me feel any better.   I angrily flipped through the pages for a few minutes before accepting the futility of trying to feel better and went to the kitchen.  I began rifling through the drawers looking for my nicotine gum but instead found an extremely old, rumpled pack of Turkish cigarettes that Cynthia’s brother used to smoke.  I grabbed the pack and looked around guiltily.   Cynthia was still upstairs so I began to tiptoe out the side door to the garage. 

 

Once safely sequestered, I took a cigarette out of the pack and it was so dry that little bits of tobacco fell out the end of it as I held it.  I lit it and took a deep drag, then let out a belching cough of acrid smoke. My lungs felt like they were on fire and my stomach began to roil with nausea.   The really stupid thing is, it made me feel better… for about 2 drags and then the nausea started taking precedence over the guilty pleasure.   I didn’t butt it out though; I just held it between my fingers at arm’s length, letting out little puffs of breath to blow the smoke away.  I sat down on the steps and looked at the orderly garage, my eyes sweeping over everything but absorbing nothing. 

 

I didn’t want to have to deal with my father, or the wedding, or God forbid the big issue of what I was going to do with my life after graduating with my Bachelor of Arts degree that would take me however many more semesters to finish.    I was just about to have another drag on the cigarette when the door behind me opened and I turned to watch Cynthia delicately step down the first step and sit beside me.   I didn’t even try to hide the cigarette, which would have been a pointless exercise in any case.  I waited for her to make some kind of caustic remark but instead she reached over and plucked the cigarette out from between my fingers and took a long puff on it.   She grimaced as she exhaled a long blue stream of smoke and said, “That’s awful.”

“I know.”  I said in a quiet voice.

She handed the cigarette back to me and I resumed holding it away from me like it was a dead snake or something. 

“I’m not going to give you a hard time about your dad.”  She said in a soft voice.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not even going to harp about the wedding plans.”

I didn’t say anything because I was waiting for whatever horrible new issue she was going to launch at me.

She sighed, “I’ve been difficult.  I know that and I’m sorry.”

I stared at her in shock and she gave me a little smile.  “Don’t look so surprised.  I realize when I’m being… y’know.”

I nodded, still in shock.  I lifted the cigarette to my lips and took a drag, then immediately launched into a mini coughing fit.   Cynthia rubbed my back until it subsided.  After I took a deep, cleansing breath I said, “You don’t have to apologize, I know that I haven’t kept up my end of things with the wedding and as for my dad… well… it’s tough.”

“I know it’s tough and it’s unreasonable of me to expect you to deal with these issues and the wedding and everything else.  I know that wedding planning isn’t one of your strengths and to be honest, you’re just in the way around here.”  She cast me a sideways glance to see if I was offended but I really wasn’t.  Given the choice, I wished that I could take off for three weeks and show up five minutes before the ceremony.

“The girls and I can take of everything and…”

“What?  I asked, even more taken aback.

“Yes, I’m giving you a pass.  You can take off for a week and let me get this stuff done.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I wonder where I should go.” 

“Miami, Florida.” She said quickly.

Feeling my eyes narrow, I asked, “What?  Why?  What’s in Miami?” 

She pointed over the counter in the garage at the array of tools that I never used.  “For that.”

“Tools?”

“No, you dolt.  The car.”

Above the counter was a picture of a 1969 Cadillac Coupe Deville convertible. 

“The car?”

“I bought you the car as a wedding present.”

“Really?”  I said, standing up in excitement and dropping the cigarette on the ground.  I looked from the poster to Cynthia and then back to the poster again.  If you’re wondering why I was so excited, you’ve obviously never seen a 1969 Cadillac Coupe Deville convertible.  You should go on the internet and check it out as soon as this chapter is over.  I’ll try to finish up quickly for you.

 

 Cynthia was grinning at me and I didn’t even mind when I accidentally stepped on the cigarette in my stocking feet.  I gave a little leap and brushed the ashes off without the grin leaving my face.

“Are you serious?”  I asked again.

She nodded.  “It was supposed to be a surprise wedding present.  I know how you love that car.”

Wow.  What a woman.  I gazed at her with all the love in my heart and then 3 seconds later a small dose of suspicion came into my head.  “The car’s in Miami?  What’s it doing there?”

“The owner is there.  I bought it from a magazine and my cousin Charlie was supposed to drive it up here for the wedding but the only flaw is that he doesn’t know how to drive.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“My cousin Charlie from Tampa.  My Aunt Carole’s son.”

I was drawing a blank. “And you mentioned him before?”

She closed her eyes in a sure sign of aggravation so I changed the subject back to the car.  “I can’t believe you did this for me!  A Coupe Deville!”

She smiled.   “So now you can fly down, pick up Charlie and drive back together.”

My glee began to dissipate somewhat.  “We’re driving back together?  He’s not a weirdo is he?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her voice dropped down a notch.  “Why would he be a weirdo?  Are you implying that everyone in my family is weird?”

I shook my head quickly, not wanting to spoil the moment, “Of course not, it’s just the idea of driving 8 thousand miles with a complete stranger…”

She let out a little laugh.  “Charlie is perfectly normal and I’m sure you’ll get along fine.  The only thing remotely weird is that he’s afraid to fly.  He was going to take the bus so we’ll be killing two birds with one stone, you get the shiny new car and my cousin gets a lift to the wedding.  As for it being 8 thousand miles away, you really should work on your geography.”

“I should work on being a better fiancé.  This is the most amazing gift ever… I’m just dumbfounded.”

She smiled and gave me a kiss.  “You leave tomorrow.  No adventures this time though.”

“Absolutely not.”  I said and gave her a kiss of my own.