Tagged: serial novel

Chapter Seventeen

How old they were really didn’t matter. It was how old their paperwork said they were that mattered. So long as the boys who showed up at Larry Cohen’s office could produce a government-issued document, a driver’s license or a passport, something official that proved they were 18, Larry could offer them work. It didn’t...

Chapter Sixteen

Doug sorted through the proposals. They were good, he thought. Creative. Surprising. He liked them. He felt bad, a little bad, that everybody but one would have to lose. He also felt a little bad that even the winner wasn’t going to really win much, besides seeing his words in print and getting lots of...

Chapter Twelve

“Possibly the worst poker players I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Between ravenous bites of a low-carb chicken wrap, Lenny Wizenberg repeated the sentence twice, putting emphasis on “the” the first time and “worst” the second time. Doug Bishop wasn’t really listening to his partner’s declamations, or watching him, either. Lenny’s hungry bites reminded...

Chapter Eleven

All the regulars at Marty Erndel’s Thursday night poker game had nicknames calculated to offend anyone who wasn’t lucky enough to be invited to Erndel’s exclusive weekly affair. To the players, this was a big joke: Aside from the seven regulars, the Lucky Seven they called themselves, no one knew the game existed. Not the...

Chapter Ten

Father Mike had a problem, the kind that wasn’t covered in the Bible or grandiloquently authoritative bulletins from Rome. Chad Evans, eldest son of the congregation’s most-respected (and, coincidentally, wealthiest) family, wouldn’t accept that he, Chad Evans, was special. Anyone with eyes in his head could see that the boy was a remarkable creature. Really,...

Chapter Eight

When the tourists were done admiring the stalagmites and stalactites, the crude pictographs and the controversial “autograph of blood,” Jefferson Jiminez herded them back into the elevator for the 1:32 ride back to the earth’s surface, where sunlight, fresh air, and, not inconsequentially, the gift shop, awaited. The proprietors of the Painted Cave at Slippery...