SALVATION chapter 1

Salvation
Chapter 1

San Diego, California

The revolver was a mock. A stage prop Nick had used from time to time as the occasion called..
A souvenir from his community theater acting days..
Times long passed, and what often seemed like another lifetime.
"I wish I had a girl " he thought slipping a single .44 MAG shell into the empty Smith & Wesson.
The idea was in reality a no win situation, and dismissed simultaneously as it rose in his mind...
The way things had gone over the last year, there was no point making another human being his clone of misery.
It just wouldn't be fair..
Nicolaus Flannery was no saint, but he did try to play fair.
Like liquid motion he spun the revolver chamber, slammed it shut, stuck the barrel in his right ear, and pulled the trigger.
Click...
"Fuck!"...He dropped the Smith & Wesson to the lumpy mattress..It bounced hard and thumped..The barrel lay goggled facing him,.. accusing. "Your still here asshole".
His eyes stung from stale cigarette smoke and lack of sleep..
He covered them with his palms like lids over boiling pots of water..
"Fuck, fuck, fuck"..
Pulling his hands away he swiped the wet on yesterdays jeans.
The place was small, cluttered, the way one bedrooms can get in a hurry.
Badly in need of paint. Once off white walls now streaked yellow with dirt and nicotine stain.
"A man needs a maid"..The old Neil Young song popped in his mind.
He'd been here all most two years when the realization hit him... There was not a single picture hanging in the place.
In a fit of inspiration he'd dug out some old lp's and tacked the jackets up on the walls..
Beatles 'Magical Mystery Tour', Led Zepplin's first, David Bowe, Jimi Hendricks, The Pretenders, Jethro Tull, to name a few..Innovators, inspiration generators..
Dragging to the bathroom he braved a look in the smudged medicine cabinet mirror.
Deep blue eyes stared back..A yellow mop of styled long hair and three days of stubble.
He twisted the 'hot' and waited until it smoked, splashing the near scalding stuff through his hair and face.
Better.
"Coffee..Need coffee"..He stuck out his tongue..White..."Fuck it"...He brushed his teeth.
The day matched his mood..Cold, windy, with a low smothering sky..
Cinching up the neck protector on the worn black leather jacket he viewed the waiting Harley and saw himself..
He turned away from a stirring memory..Those good days when he and the bike were first together..
Ashlee, Nick and the Harley..
Road trips to nowhere in particular..She clung to him and he to the bike..
"Bull shit"..
He pushed back hard and the memory disappeared. Like driving an easy eight ball through the center of a corner pocket.
The Harley sprung to life. Cold seat, tired motor, once bright chrome now dirty, dingy...
Thinking about it made him tired, allowing the relentless memory to seep again.
The local 7 Eleven was quiet enough at 7am..
Nick pulled in,shut off the bike, pushing pass the resident
homeless begging spare change..
The warm interior of the store was a comfort, but the loud persistent tone that signals entry echoed in his head like a crashing surf. He grabbed the big 24oz. size and forgot the stupid heat shield sleeve like always.
The bright red vests of the employees always hurt his eyes..Like safety gear..They must all ride bicycles to work..
He stood in line and got cut twice by self immersed customers beating the clock to their daily desk jobs.
In a way it didn't bother him..Yeah Nick Flannery had regrets..Yeah Nick Flannery had debts..Yeah, lately every day seemed like a life lead through the dark cave of an unhappy mind..
He managed a sip of the java. It's warmth and flavor overwhelmed him..
This stuff right here," he took another sip. "This stuff is worth getting up for."..
He paid the cashier in quarters..It's all he had..
Times were lean and the gig his band was currently doing didn't pay out till the end of the weekend..
He nodded to the standard "have a nice day" drone and turned toward the exit stopping dead in his track..
A tall slick suit was pulling the door open for his companion..He was way too happy for this time of day, and she was all smiles..All smiles and all Ashlee.
The couple didn't notice Nick. They didn't notice anyone..They were,...involved.
After a moment Nick felt himself breath in and breath out..
She could have been Ashlee...She should have been Ashlee..But Ashlee was dead..
He pushed through the exit door barely aware the imprint of redness the hot coffee cup was leaving on his palms.
Almost made it back to the Harley before his brain caught up and registered 'hot'..
His hands reacted though, dropping the steaming liquid right in the center of the parking lot..
A miniature mushroom cloud bellowed up in the cold air..like a smoke signal.."Here I am..Get your fucking video..Dumb shit of the day."

Los Angeles, California

Herman Gilespie barely remembered last night or the 'bitch' who still lay face down spread eagle over his king water bed..
It was some good coke though, and the sing song thread of her moaning "fuck it baby, fuck it" over and over like a broken record brought a sardonic smile to his stringy lips..
"Surreal" he muttered then gagged on the too familiar hot collusion of dried blood caked against the back of his throat..
He high tailed for the toilet tripping his way over empty beer cans and mostly empty bottles of cheap wine littering the floor.
Spitting out chunks of black that eventually turned to liquid runny red mucus and blood.
He couldn't help being distracted by a discarded cigarette butt comically wedged between his toes.
"Surreal" he grinned, and vomited again.
"Hey?"...Herman's serenade woke the girl up.."Hey?".."You alright in there buddy?"..She sat up, lit a smoke..
"Dizzy", Herman choked out..The woman rolled her eyes and flipped on the tube. "I got to split man"..
Even with his head three quarters in the toilet bowl he could hear her pulling on clothes and something else..
Rummaging..
"Stay out of my wallet, bitch!"..
"What the fuck?..I am getting my own shit, ok?"
"Stay the fuck away from my wallet!" His head pounded, swooned, and the white porcelain faded to gray.
"Fuck you asshole!"
Herman rolled off the toilet and lay face up on the bathroom floor..The cool tile saturated and numbed him..
She appeared. Hovering...Shimmering in his perception.."Your in a mood" she said paying as much attention to her reflection in the mirror as to him. "That's the thing about guys, in bands."
He stared at her..She'd been here before..He just couldn't remember her name.."Enlighten me."
She pulled long blond hair back and slipped it into a pony tail.. "You guys"...She turned on the facet and scrubbed her teeth with an index finger.."Your always so much more attractive, up there."
She wiggled washing her teeth and Herman realized he was getting horny..He reached and stroked her ankle..
"Up there?"
Her sharp features turned ugly and she pulled away.."Yeah, up there..On stage."
Herman grinned..The bitch had a point..We were all better 'up there'. Everything else was just about waiting to get back 'up there'...
"I am out of here" she snapped.
He got to his feet and staggered to the bathroom doorway watching her go.."You'll be back"..
She hung on the front door nob.."Oh yeah?..Why is that?"
Herman's face narrowed and his eyes blazed an insiders wisdom.."You heard of Daniel Webster and the devil?"
Her golden mane shook side to side.."No I ain't heard of no Daniel what the fuck!..The hell you talkin' about?"
"You'll find out"..His eyes glazed over, and for a moment the wisdom was replaced with fear.."It's a done deal sweet meat..All that's left is the signing."
She stood there a moment, his words sinking in..
"Your fucked up Herm"...She said it with more honesty than she had known herself to possess. "You've always been fucked up..So what the fuck are you getting yourself into now?"