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Chapter 1: A New Day


Tyler sighed as he exhaled the cigarette smoke and watched as it slowly dissipated into the night air, and took a drink from the whiskey-filled tumbler. He grimaced after the drink and snuffed out the cigarette on the iron balcony fence, which he flicked onto the cobblestone street below. Nobody was outside at three in the morning, so there was no one to scold him like an undisciplined child. He looked back over his shoulder at the window behind him, the curtains open and the light off, a reminder to him that normal people should be asleep at this time, save those with third-shift jobs. Already he was getting a headache and rubbed at his temple as he determined to consider what had brought it on. Perhaps it was all the alcohol, or the loud club music, or the various stresses which caused his head to hurt. With a scoff to himself, he finished off the drink in the tumbler and set it on the squat wooden table and turned to face the door. He knew that inside was just another girl he had met last night, and there was nothing special about her; she supplied the alcohol and companionship, and he promised nothing except his absence by the time the sun came up. He cocked his head slightly as he wondered what a normal man would do in his shoes, and what he would have been able to do if he were a normal man himself.

The thoughts did not last long, as he heard a car engine draw near and saw a cream-colored Cadillac pull up to a stop in front of the brick house, to which the driver of the car turned the engine off and stepped out. Tyler watched as the shadowy figure closed and locked the car door, a dark-haired man in what appeared to be a sort of military uniform from what he could make out in the darkness, and retreated into the shadows cast by the side of the building where the street light could not expose him. The man turned away from the car and began his approach to the house, and Tyler watched as the man sorted through the keys to the house. "Christ," Tyler mumbled, as he tried to recall if he had noticed anything about there being a man who lived at the house, but could think of nothing. Suddenly he remembered his clothes were in the bedroom and turned his head to determine where his belongings were and just how his escape act might go down.

"Hey - Hey, you! Who's that up there?" the man called out from the ground, and Tyler swallowed nervously. A sudden flash of light caused Tyler to throw his arm up defensively. "You! You stay right where you are!" he called out, and reached for his hip. A gun was the first thing Tyler could think of, and he rushed inside the bedroom as the man below made a charge for the door downstairs. He flipped the light switch and thrust his feet into his shoes, and the sudden brightness woke up the sleeping blonde. "What's going on?" she asked, half-asleep. "You didn't tell me anything about the man of the house, and I'm assuming he's armed," Tyler stated, as he grabbed his belongings and thrust them into his jeans pockets, and grabbed his tan trench coat from the foot of the bed. "Jesus, my brother," she said quickly as she climbed out of bed and tightened her robes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you he lived here," she said, and watched as Tyler approached her. She readied herself for the rushed goodbye kiss that was usually caused by men who feared her brother's approach, and Tyler reached beyond her to grab the half-full bottle of whiskey. "Don't mention it," Tyler said, as he pocketed the bottle in his jacket and made his way for the balcony door.

Out on the edge of the balcony, Tyler heard as the bedroom door busted open and made his way over the iron fence. "Where is he!? Tiffany, I saw him!" the man bellowed and cocked his gun, as his sister let out a yelp of fright. "Jesus, Johnny, don't kill him!" she exclaimed with fright, as she followed her brother out onto the balcony. Johnny ran over to the side and looked toward the street, where he expected to see a running figure, but saw no one on the street. Angry and not wanting to accept defeat, he rushed over to the side of the balcony and glanced around toward the side of the house and neighboring property. No one was there, and not even a shadow moved. "Johnny, please," Tiffany pleaded as she grabbed his arm, to urge him to come away from his lookout. "He's long gone, and all he wanted was the whiskey. So please, put away the gun." Johnny glanced around at the ground and uncocked his gun, which he placed back in the holster. "You better tell him that if I catch him again, he's dead," Johnny snapped, and he turned to face her. "I told you not to bring home any of them womanizing free-loading drug junkies, and you're still not listening to a word I'm saying, so it's about time I start sending them the message - stay away from you or get shot."

(pt. 1 of 2)