Then she looked at him. There was no tie around his neck, and his blue shirt was wrinkled and not tucked into his pants. On his face were black sunglasses that covered his bloodshot eyes and his swollen cheekbones.
“Ms. Julie?”
“Is everything alright. I was not able to reach Mr. LeMay -”
“Leave him a text-“
“He’ll be here in five minutes –”
“Don’t answer the door.”
“Mr. Chance!” cried Julie.
The bell rang, and Julie and Chance stood in silence waiting for Theresa’s response.
Theresa's voice burst through.
“Mr. LeMay, please have a seat, Mr. Chance will be with you shortly.”
Julie gave her former idol a disapproving nod and clicked her tongue at him. She knew that back in the day when she respected him, he would have fired her for her current attitude.
But that was not today. Chance was different. He slammed the door, centimeters from Julie's face. Now more confused than any other emotion that toyed with her, she returned to her desk. She turned to speak to Theresa but was immediately interrupted by Chance's loud voice.
“Mr. LeMay it’s great to meet you.”
“Mr. Chance!”
“Sorry about the appearance, I’ve come down with pink eye, let’s go into my office, we’ll discuss your needs there.”
***
LeMay and Chance came out of his office laughing, as he told a story. The two secretaries stared at each other, shocked at what they were witnessing. It appeared, Mr. Chance been able to close the deal. Somehow, he had built and established trust with Charles LeMay, despite his unprofessional appearance.
“Mr. LeMay, it’s been an honor doing business with you. My secretaries will show you out.”
"No, the honor is all mine.”
Mr. LeMay approached Julie's desk, where the documents should have been prepared for him to sign. Julie's mouth gaped, not at the fact that she was unprepared, but because Chance had been able to close the deal.
“Boy that boss of yours could talk the pants off of a nun,” said Mr. LeMay.
"Ms. Theresa, can you help me?" whispered Julie to Theresa, "I don't have the documents, and can you prepare them for me? He closed the deal, and I don't even know if he had shoes on."
“This day is getting weirder. Yes, I’ll prepare them, you keep him busy.”
“Gene Autry,” said Julie, refocusing her attention to LeMay, "that is a peculiar name for a town."
"Yes, it is. Named after the actor."
“The actor?”
“You kids don’t know about the classics. The singing cowboy from the 1930s. Say, you know what? That's why your boss seemed so familiar."
“Because of Gene Autry?”
“Yeah, there was a kid there - Chance Freeborne. His dad was the City Engineer and owned a ranch. The kid was a cowpoke for his dad, but he desperately wanted out of small-town life. Your boss reminds me of him."
"That is strange, what are the chances of that?”
Julie and LeMay laughed at the pun, and Theresa snuck back into the conversation with the prepared documents.
“Here you go sir,” said Theresa, and then she walked him through the documents he needed to sign. Following that, he smiled at the women and left.
The bell rang as he left with no response from Chance.
Julie turned towards Theresa.
“Something is off,” said Theresa.
“Obviously. Do you think he is sick?”
“Maybe, but that is not what is wrong.”
“He’s eccentric?”
“Very. But again, that is not what is wrong.”
"Well, what is wrong with Mr. Chance?"
“He’s conflicted. I don’t know why, but he is.”
CHAPTER 8 THE PAST
Gavan Jenkins – Henryetta, OK
Social Media Messenger Conversation Thread between Gavan Jenkins and Ulysseus Dale
Gavan: Ulysses, what's going on? I've got a question for you.
Ulysseus: What's up?
Gavan: Do you remember that kid from our high school?
The Poncan kid, he had long hair played football and wrestled too. Or his dad was Poncan, his mom was Osage. Do you remember that kid's name?
Ulysseus: Seriously? You forgot that guy’s name?
His nickname was the Osage Badger.
That guy was like a legend in our town - with a Chuck Norris-style-facts attributed to him after he graduated.
The dude broke his neck in a football game and then finished the game.
Gavan: Heck yeah, I remember that. He didn't break his neck, but he led with his head on a tackle, and it stunned his system. That hit gave him a pretty lousy stinger, and for like twenty minutes he couldn't feel his hands. It didn't break, but he got feeling back. And, yes, he did finish the game. Yeah, what was that dude's name?
Ulysseus: Are you serious? You seriously forgot that guy's name? You know he joined the army after high school, and was in Desert Storm, right? He left the army and went back to the University of Central Oklahoma where he eventually graduated with a degree in Forensic Science. Then, he graduated from college and served the head security guy for a Rap Metal Band from Florida from the late 90s until 9/11 happened, and he joined the Army again.
I saw him in a History Channel presentation on the Battle of '73 Easting.
Gavan: Alright, man, what was his name?
Ulysseus: His name was Asher Cries-For-War.
Gavan: Well, probably from the head injuries he inflicted on the scout team. The other day, I saw a homeless man who looked just like him.
Really wish it wasn’t him, but he reminded me of him.
Ulysseus: Well, that couldn’t be him.
Gavan: Alright, Ulysses, I am getting annoyed with these dramatic pauses.
Why?
Why could it not be Asher Cries-For-War?
Ulysseus: Because he is dead. He died a few years ago. Asher retired from the army, came home to spend more time with his family and died. It was tragic.
He was a good man.
Gavan: Yes, that is tragic.
He was a very good man.
Gavan sat behind his computer. Impacted by the words he had just seen. He had not seen Asher Cries-For-War in years, but he remembered the idealism the guy generated on the football team. Asher Cries-For-War was a born leader.
“Alright, Mr. Google, what can you tell me about Mr. Asher Cries-For-War.”
His fingers typed in the name.
Asher Cries-For-War “Football”
Ponca City Tribune: Life Styles
Former Ponca City resident, Asher Cries-For-War graduated from Ranger School in Fort Benning, GA last week. Ranger school is the premiere light infantry, leadership school in the Army. It is a grueling 61-day course that evaluates leaders on their fundamentals of infantry doctrine and leadership as they are pushed to their physical, mental, and emotional limits. Traditional students in this course are lower enlisted Soldiers from Airborne Units, or newly commissioned officers preparing for their career. The 37-year old Poncan Native was neither. SFC Asher Cries-For-War, already a veteran of both Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom, entered the school and was an initial “go” in each of the phases, but lost an item of equipment in “Florida” phase.
SFC Cries-For-War informed the Tribune that he never lost accountability in his career, but he had a "bad episode of droning." "Droning", explained Asher, is the effect of sleep deprivation, and it is when a Ranger school student is not aware if he is awake, asleep or dreaming. After receiving a "Day 1 Recycle", the 37-year old veteran passed the Ranger physical fitness test, but his days of adversity were not yet done. After his initial success, Asher went on to recycle each phase at least one time, for a total of ten months at the school.
About the ordeal, Asher Cries-For-War did not complain but responded that Ranger School is a school designed to "save lives through strict principles that enforce adheren
ce to the fundamentals. This ain’t a career, it’s a service.”
Asher Cries-For-War graduated last week and returns to his unit, the infamous 1-509th IN (ABN) OPFOR where he deployed to Iraq in 2004-2005. He graduated from Ponca City High School where he was an All-State Selection at Inside Linebacker. Asher Cries-For-War hopes to return to Ponca City after retirement.
CHAPTER 9: FALL FROM GLORY
Chance - Henryetta
Chance walked into his office at 09:17 am. He was wearing his helmet and black gloves. His immaculate suit was extremely loose; he looked like a boy wearing his father's suit. The secretaries did not acknowledge the fact he was late, and no longer had a confused look plastered on their faces when he was not early. The television in the office was on, which he never allowed unless clients were in the room.
"Why is that TV on?" asked Chance.
"There is some big news," said Julie.
"It's going to happen," said Theresa, "the state Congress is going to impeach the governor."
"I don't care about Ragnog. I don't care about McCurtain County. I definitely don't care about the governor," said Chance, "what pertains to us?"
“He set up some agency that no one else knew about," said Julie.
"Wait, did you say agency?" asked Chance.
"Cass Masterson setup some sort of group. Something semi-illegal and off the radar so that nothing could be pinned on him."
"The news said that?" asked Chance.
"Yes, it's been all over the news," said Julie.
"But what did he set up?"
“Some sort of advisory group and only he knew about it.”
“What does your husband think about it?” asked Chance.
"Nothing. The state is investigating the Highway Patrol, but no one in OHP had any knowledge of any wrongdoing. My husband says it will not affect them."
"What did the news say?" asked Chance.
“Those illegal elements of the state government, which were created by the governor, went around the state teaching local cops to fight like soldiers," said Theresa.
"Modeled after Green Berets," said Chance, his a distant whisper.
“Green Berets?” asked Julie.
"US Army Special Forces. They have the unconventional mission of going around the world training insurgents and/or strategically aligned allied armies," said Chance.
"That's not how it went. Policemen aren't soldiers," said Theresa. "Soldiers are a different type of tough. Young, ambitious, and, at times, brash. Policemen are older and supposed to be wiser. From what the news said, my husband says it sounded like they got a bunch of young guys going out to train older cops in tactics, and they didn't appreciate it. The advisory group went down to the Kiamichi Mountains and got wiped out, then the governor cut all ties."
"Left them out there to die," said Chance aloud, and Theresa could not tell if he said it to himself or them. Then he repeated, "left them out there to die?”
"Sounds like it," said Theresa.
“Sounds like the governor found some young, ambitious men, and he manipulated them to his advantage,” said Chance.
“Why do you say that?” asked Theresa.
"Just from what you said," said Chance.
There was an awkward silence as Chance stood still staring at his two office assistants, with the black helmet still on his head.
"Mr. Chance, are you going to take off that helmet?” Julie ejaculated. "I feel like I'm at a political debate inside of a cosplay convention.”
"How forgetful of me," he said as he pulled the helmet off his head.
"Mr. Chance, your face! That bruise covers half of your face!"
Chance reached up and felt the tender, bruised skin on his cheekbone.
"Mr. Chance," said Theresa, "this Savate, motorcycles, and every other wild thing you do, it's starting to take a toll on you. You look exhausted, and that bruise looks horrific."
"I think I will just stick to cardio equipment," said Chance, his voice noticeably weak. His bruised face looked up at Julie, "Speaking of gyms. Julie, that girl I see you with, does she still go to that gym?"
Julie was thrown off by his question, and the repulsion in her face was apparent. "Sometimes."
"Good talk," said Chance nodding his head. "I need to get into my office. It seems like you ladies know everything there is to know about Henryetta.”
"Thanks, Mr Chance. We're definitely learning a lot from you, too," said Theresa.
Chance smiled, his smile thin and artificial. He nodded and went to his office. The door slammed, and the two women could hear it lock.
“I knew it,” said Theresa
“Knew what? That he is a psycho?” said Julie.
“It’s obvious.”
“That he’s a psycho?”
"No. It's a girl that's bothering him."
"What?"
"Yeah, Ms. college student. Turn off your infatuation with him. He is your employer."
“I don’t think infatuation with him will ever be an issue again.”
“And why is that? What has replaced your infatuation for him?”
“Pity. Chance looks awful."
"Yes, he does. All this drama in the world and he's hung up on a girl."
“You think she ended it, and that’s why he is all hung up?”
"Of course. Don't you remember Chance always talked about eating steak and eggs on Monday mornings? He isn't eating right, so he must not have someone cooking for him; I don't like to be stereotypical, but do you remember what he eats now? He chows protein bars and sucks down energy drinks. That is what he survives on! If that doesn't say 'single guy' I don't know what would. He changed something about himself, he has made a mistake, and it is killing him. What kind of a fool would dump a woman who served him steak and eggs?"
***
Julie, after finishing tasks for Gavan looked around her and then pulled up social media onto her computer. Theresa had gotten to Julie about using social media at work, but now, Julie felt compelled to send a message to her friend, Elena Doolin.
Julie: Remember that guy from the gym?
Elena: The "Viking God"? Yes, Julie, I remember.
Julie: John T. Chance. You know him?
Elena: I think it's pretty obvious, isn't it?
Julie: The light bulb just went off. You were dating. After I described the "Viking God" you quit going to that gym.
Elena: BINGO
Julie: Well, whatever pain he inflicted on you, he's receiving it ten times worse.
Elena: Is he okay?
Julie: He is getting weirder and weirder.
It's not cute. Chance's eccentricities are no longer charming. He grows exceptionally absent-minded unless he is hyper-focused on whatever is in his mind. I have seen him write a client's name over one hundred times on a sheet of paper, then get up and put it in the shredder.
Lately, he has been wringing his hands in pain, and then he will stare at them for five to ten minutes as if he has never seen them before. His hygiene is getting worse. He is starting to be more like the "Unromantic Viking." His blonde hair is growing longer and unkempt. His teeth are turning an unattractive shade of yellow, and his fingernails are becoming jagged claws.
I would say he may have broken your heart, but something has stolen his soul.
CHAPTER 10: A DAY AT THE RANGE
Elena – Henryetta, Ok
"Don't call him," said Sasha as she loaded rounds into her Desert Eagle. "He's a scumbag. He's getting what he deserves."
“I’m worried,” said Elena. "You should have read the message my friend sent me. She reached out to me because she was so worried. She said he ‘lost his soul.'"
Sasha stopped loading her weapon and looked up at her friend.
"Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows with interest.
"Yes. Those words."
“You’re worried about him? Come on, Elena. I took you to the range so you wouldn't have to think about him. I want to know everything you know about guns, t
raining, everything. I guess I've just gotten the tactical bug from hearing you talking about training. Your ex-boyfriend sounds like a psycho. Forget about him.”
"Yes, he does. But I know him. Something is bothering him."
"All those secrets he had. How do you know he would not have hurt you?"
“Sasha, why would you even say that?”
"Think about it. You said Chance has money, but he just started as a stockbroker? He may be a good-looking dude, but people aren't going to want to buy financial products from a space cadet, even if he looks like a ‘roided out Matt Damon. He's got money and guns. He’s got to be tied to drugs or some other scandal."
"Maybe you're right, but"
"But you love him anyway? Even if he runs a cartel?”
“Of course.”
“Unconditional love? Is that what you have for him?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Sasha's eyes lit up as she realized Elena had just hit her with a conceptual haymaker.
The Dark Lord of Oklahoma Page 6
