Sleep Tight

by BJ Hyman

  My apartment is nice and very fashionably decorated. I may be a guy, but I have good taste. Simple, yet elegant. There are only a few items that may seem out of place -- my stack of comic books on the bookshelves, a beat up green leather recliner that was my grandfather's, and an old, dust-covered radio I keep in the bathroom that I've had since high school. They have all seen better days, but nostalgia keeps me from trashing them and getting newer models.

  I keep the radio on a classic rock station that starts my day every morning. I could do without the unoriginal banter of the hosts, but their music selection is just the best.

  When I flipped my trusty radio on this particular morning, I caught the second half of Time by Pink Floyd. Not a bad start, I must say. I slid open the glass door to the shower and turned the water to the hottest I could stand before stepping under the spray.

  As I started to shampoo, the opening notes for Rush's Working Man nearly busted the already buzzy speakers. I got soap in my eyes when I opened them to yell, "Aw, yeah!" I sang along with Geddy as I rinsed the soap from my eyes and hair.

  It's true. Shower singing really can't be beat.

  The bathroom was its usual foggy mess when I stepped from the shower with bright pink skin. I have these great towels my girlfriend, Allison, bought me and set up in this wicker basket that is very Bed, Bath, and Beyond. They're one of the best things about taking a bath. I grabbed one and toweled off as one of the snarling radio personalities shared his "thoughts" for the day and began his prank calls.

  As I dried my hair, I pulled the stopper in the sink and filled it with hot water. I got a razor out that had my name on it. It may sound anal, but I hate it when Allison uses my razor to shave her legs. It's just never the same after that...so I labeled mine and hers. I know that makes me sound like a jerk, but I always make sure she has a razor for her on hand for her overnight stays.

  I tossed my towel halfway across the radio as I started to put foam on my face. I made several passes with the blade until I had a nearly clear chin. I reached for the towel to wipe my face but it caught my radio and dragged it into the sink filled with water.

  I fell backward as electricity licked all the way to the wall outlet. A loud buzzing sizzle filled the air. The lights flickered on and off before a loud pop shut them down for good. Smoke filtered through the room as sparks shot from the wall.

  I'd like to say I yelled rather than screamed, but who am I kidding?

  After getting dressed, I grabbed a breakfast bar from an open box on the kitchen counter and tore it open with my teeth as I picked up my briefcase and headed for the door. When I got to the street, I whistled for a cab. Another businessman was doing the same thing just a few feet away. He wore the same kind of sharp suit that I was wearing. One only success can afford. We raised our breakfast bars at one another in salute. "Breakfast of champions, eh," I called to him.

  "You said it." He smiled and climbed into the cab that stopped for him.

  I raised my hand for another taxi and one honked at me from across the street. I looked both ways and jogged for it.

  Right then it all seemed to go into slow motion. As I ran, my foot seemed to get tripped on plain air and I fell face first into the gritty street. I looked up to see a car grill careening straight for me. It swerved at the last second.

  WHAM!

  It hit another car coming the other way and together they began to skid toward my body still prone in the street. My eyes felt full of glass as I tried to move my sluggish body out of the way. It was as if I had gained 500 pounds and had lost all ability to drag my limbs. The sidewalk moved a mile away in the seconds that had passed. I flung myself up on the curb to safety just as the cars careened to a halt within inches of my left thigh. Thin plumes of smoke rose from their crushed hoods as I fell limply on my back and held my chest gasping for breath. I was vaguely aware of a car horn steadily blaring through a thumping wrapped in cotton.

  Believe me. I am not a clumsy person. I've always been very agile. I was a running back in high school and college. I was All State and Division II All American. I'm no slouch. I was just having an exceedingly bad day. Don't judge me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Patrick

  When I arrived at work, I had a scrape on my chin and a dirty, torn suit. Our receptionist extraordinaire, Martha, looked up and raised her well-shaped eyebrows. Seriously, she's the kind of capable that almost frightens you. She has the kind of efficiency that made me imagine she could take complete and utter control of the world with a wink and a smile and nary a hair out of place. Her professionalism cracked when she saw me this morning, however.

  “What the hell happened to you,” she blurted in surprise. I sighed and leaned on her absurdly enormous desk. “This has been the worst day of my life so far. I can't even begin to tell you.”

  She smiled at me. “I have news that might brighten it.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I got wind of who made salesman of the month. They'll tell you later today. You know that's six months in a row? It's a company record. You are the best.”

  I smiled in a thousand watts.

  Martha said, “I thought that would perk you up. Go get 'em.” She jerked her head toward the office doors.

  I patted the top of her desk. “Thanks! I needed that.”

  I crossed into a maze of cubicles. Like a mouse who knows where the cheese is, I walked and turned precisely until I reached my cubicle. As I passed by, heads popped above the faux wall cubicles, prairie dogging. They all wore matching headset phones and confused looks. I got besieged by my crew.

  Bryce: “You get hit with a bus?”

  Teresa: “Aw, he nicked himself shaving.”

  Allen: “He got mugged. No surprise — look where we live.”

  I threw my hands up. “Enough already! I'm having a pretty awful day and I don't need a bunch of crap from you dick wads.”

  Teresa told her waiting client to hold before slinging her sarcasm my way. “I'm touched you included me. No, really. I love being one of the guys. Nowhere else do I get called 'dick wad.' It's the one thing I was missing from my life before I came to work here.”

  She disappeared into her cubicle and started her sales pitch inaudibly. I've always thought she looked like one of those Robert Palmer dancers with her sleek hair, red lips, and perpetual black outfits ... Either that or she needed to go to a hipster poetry slam.

  Bryce took off his headset and followed me. “Seriously, Patrick. What happened?”

  I took my jacket off, hung it on a hook inside my station, and began to roll up my sleeves. “I really don't feel like getting into it. I just want my first sale of the day.”

  Bryce eyed the day to day motivational calendar on my desk. “Maybe you'd have better days if you paid more attention to that calendar there. You don't even have it on the right day.”

  I picked it up with a smile and began to tear pages off. I balled them up and threw them at Bryce who nonchalantly walked away. What I found when I got to the correct day stopped me in my tracks. “What the hell?”

  Bryce showed back up at my side. “What's up?”

  I held the calendar out with my hand on my hip. Fussy and sassy, I know, but it got the point across. I said, “Okay. Which one of you jerk offs has messed with my calendar?”

  The page for the day is unlike all the others. It was framed with a bold border all around with the words “DAY ZERO” blazoned across the top but the month and day were correct. The motivational saying read, “’It is appointed once for man to die, but after this the judgment.' Hebrews 9:27”

  Bryce laughed out loud. “It's a typo, man! A misprint. You could probably sell it for a boat load on eBay. There's always someone looking for that kind of thing.”

  He grabbed it to show Teresa, who made a face but continued her phone pitch in perfect form. Allen, on the other hand, stopped his pitch as he looked at it and then stuttered back to life to continue.

  “...and this can all be yours for the l
ow price of...” He sighed and pulled off his headset. “They hung up on me.” Allen took the calendar and flipped through the other pages. “I'd ask for my money back on this one. The rest of the pages are blank. Where'd you buy this? Spencer's? Some joke calendar. Joke's on you, Patrick.”

  I snatched it back. “What?” After thumbing through the pages, I saw he was right. Day Zero seems to be the last printed page.

  Bryce patted me on the back and said, “Well, I guess you'll have to be self-motivated from here on out, buddy boy.” I tried to glare at him as he headed back to his cubicle but I was still too disturbed to manage much.

  I held the calendar a moment and watched the light shine across the ominous, fateful words. Then I dropped it into my trash can.

  I began my ritual I do every day before starting. I straightened my stack of business cards first. I looked at the tasteful lettering.

  Patrick Eldridge

  Sales Manager

  Simpson Telemarketing Firm

  The print was not quite black on not quite ivory. Maybe a cappuccino on ecru. Classy.

  I put on my headset and adjusted it to where my microphone is closer to my mouth but just out of my line of sight. I turned on my computer screen and read through the sales script that I've used thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, of times before. It's practically tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, but it's still part of the prep.

  I cracked my knuckles, grabbed a yellow legal pad, and looked at my Sales to No Sales scorecard from yesterday. After a second, I folded over the top sheet, drew a line down the center of the new page and created two headings — Sales and No Sales. I took several deep breaths and smiled brightly as I dialed the first number on my list. When my mark answered, and yes, I think of them as marks — makes it more exciting, I spoke with a kind but confident assurance.

  “Hello. Is Madeline in?”

  “This is she.”

  It has begun. I smiled wider.

  “Madeline, have you thought about how wonderful life can be? But no matter how wonderful things are right now, are you prepared for the worst? Well, Morrow Insurance wants you to be prepared for whatever comes your way. Does your current company feel that way?” And with that, I dissolved into the very familiar pattern and pace of my day.

  ◆◆◆

  I took a small break and was looking over my Sales to No Sales ratio. The Sales column was full with only three No Sales in the other column. I stretched with the satisfaction of knowing I was already on the road to another salesperson of the month award.

  My phone rang and I answered in my brightest, most positive voice. “Patrick Eldridge, how can I help you?”

  “You can tell me you love me, then show me how much later with some good old fashioned hot, sweaty sex.”

  I'd know that voice anywhere. “I'll have you know that sex with me is anything but old fashioned.”

  “Mmm. I'm intrigued.”

  “I love you, Allison. And you gave me wood at the office. Are you happy?”

  I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

  “Who are you kidding? You always have wood at the office. That's how you get all those big sales. In fact, I sometimes worry you love the job more than me.”

  I leaned back in my chair and looked up at the ceiling tiles above my cubicle. I could still see the pinprick holes from an old game of flip the pencil I had played with Bryce. “You have nothing to worry about. You are my everything. So, what's got you calling me so early?”

  She hesitated. I could almost see her twirling one brown curl around her fingers and inspecting the ends. “Oh, I don't know ... I've had this bad feeling all day that I can't seem to get rid of.”

  “What kind of bad feeling?”

  “Well, I hate to sound melodramatic.” I sat up and started to doodle on my yellow pad.

  “Yyyyeaaahhh. Go ahead.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Impending doom,” she said in her most dramatic voice.

  “Impending doom?”

  Her voice dropped back almost to her usual casual ease, on the edge of flippant. It would have been missed by someone who didn’t know her as well as I do. She was really rattled. “The end of the world. Death in the family. That kind of feeling. I've been worried about you all day.”

  I drew a heart with her name inside as we talked. “Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. I have had a couple of freakish things happen to me today though.”

  “Really?” I heard the concern, so I decided to brush it off. No need to feed her fears.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But it's nothing. I'm fine. I'll tell you tonight.”

  “After the hot, sweaty sex?” she purred.

  “Yeah. I'm gonna take you places that you've only dreamed about, baby.”

  “Promise?”

  “Have I ever disappointed yet?”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you more.” I hung up the phone just as Teresa's face peeked around the wall.

  “Love you more,” she taunted.

  I gave her my best glare. “Shut up. What do you want?”

  “Lunch.”

  I took a quick glance at my watch. She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it's really that time and I'm hungry. So move your ass.” She disappeared as Bryce walked over.

  “Better listen to her. She just cussed out a customer that was actually buying.” He shuddered dramatically. I smiled and stood to put my coat on. Allen bounced over and rocked back and forth on his heels, ready to go.

  ◆◆◆

  We ate at Ronaldo's. It's where all upwardly mobile types try to lunch. It's always reminded me of American Psycho for some reason. Maybe it's because of all the jostling for position that happens at our table or how many business cards get handed out over the span of a meal. Either way, I almost always hear “Hip to Be Square” by Huey Lewis and the News in my head when we walk into the lobby.

  We all got our usual. I ordered steak and a baked potato. Allen was having the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Bryce had the pork loin with sweet potatoes. And Teresa, well, she was eating a salad. She was poking angrily at a salad, to be honest. She kept looking over at my steak with longing in her eyes. If she were a dog, I'd have tossed her a bite.

  Allen was still griping about losing his last sales call. “I almost had that sale, man. I was on a streak even Patrick couldn't break.”

  Bryce murmured around his food with a hand over his mouth. “Don't give me that. I've had you in my taillights for the last three days. Am I right, Teresa?”

  He raised his hand for a high five from her but she just looked up from her salad and grumbled, “Yeah, whatever.” I saw her eyes on my plate again as Bryce slowly dropped his hand.

  “Don't take your diet out on Bryce. Give him his props,” I said.

  She slapped her fork down with a clatter before saying, with absolutely no enthusiasm, “Yes. You were beating the crap out of him.” She looked at me. “Happy?”

  I grinned and took a large chunk of steak between my teeth. She eyed me hatefully. “I hope you choke on it.”

  “If only we were so lucky. At least then one of us would have a chance at Salesman of the Month,” Allen said.

  I pretended to gag slightly, then laughed. Bryce smirked at me. “Funny.”

  I smiled and took a small breath. That was a mistake. A piece got lodged in my windpipe. My eyes began to water with the pain and I slapped the table. I began to panic because I could see they all thought I was still kidding. Teresa even rolled her eyes at me and said, “The joke's stale, kid.”

  “Yeah, get a new book.” Allen said.

  I continued to not breathe. I put my hands to my throat and my eyes felt like they were bulging out. I knew my face must have been turning red. I couldn't make a sound.

  “Come on. You're starting to freak me out,” Teresa said as she speared a piece of steak off my plate and popped it in her mouth.

  I stood up and flung myself over the back of my chair trying to force it out. I was ge
tting lightheaded and looked around for help in panic. Bryce finally got that I was not joking and jumped up to help. He tried to give me the Heimlich but at first it didn't work. Teresa clapped a hand across her mouth as she realized it was no joke ... but continued to chew nonetheless.

  Bryce gave another surprisingly strong jolt to my gut and I vomited explosively onto the floor. Of course, the whole restaurant was now staring and pointing. I had become the entertainment for the afternoon.

  Bryce jumped away from me shaking half-digested food from his hands. Allen looked impressed. “Damn, that was cool!” Allen is apparently still 10 years old.

  Bryce snapped, “Shut it,” at him while grabbing a napkin. I sat at the table with my head in my hands. Teresa carefully swallowed her bite of my steak as she looked at me in half-disgust. Then I guess her somewhat tender side took over.

  “You okay? I was just kidding. You know that, right?”

  I groaned and put my head on the table. “I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.”

  A sneak peek of LIGHTNING: The Book of Luke and Gina, the second book in the Day Zero Series:

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jennifer looks up from her book at the sound of the jingling of the bell above the door to the coffee shop. She’s surprised to find no one there. The bell is still swinging slightly from the motion. With a shrug, she goes back to the thriller that keeps her attention rapt behind the counter full of pastries and cookies.

  For several minutes, the only sounds in the coffee shop are the occasional soft whisper of a turning page, the ticking of the heating elements on the coffee and tea machines cooling, and the rock music filtering quietly through the overhead speakers. Then a chair scrapes across the floor at a nearby table. She glances up expecting to see someone ready with an order. Again, no one is near the chair. It’s a short distance away from the small bistro table, but there’s no one in sight who could have moved it. It has been a slow night and she’s currently the only occupant of the café. She walks around the counter to take a quick look through the shop. It feels as if the café isn’t as empty as she thought. She’s an avid reader and would be the first to admit that a good story often made her completely unaware of her surroundings. On a slow night, she even resented the interruptions of customers at times.