Chapter One            "I need this," he began, "I need this to be over and done with. I can't take this anymore.” He flicked his head back and sighed. Staring up at the ceiling, he held an ice pack above his eye. He was in bed. The migraine was relentless and it was only 11am.            Bright, hot and sunny as it was in Las Vegas that morning, Jobey Stites found little relief in his air-conditioned hotel suite. The sunshine shone through the thin curtains and the lights couldn't be dim enough if they were torn out of the wall by the wire. Jobey couldn't win. It was the fourth he'd gotten in the past four days and that morning, it hit him in the middle of breakfast.            Now it was easing up on him and he supposed he should be grateful. But he wasn't. A piercing pain centered behind one and sometimes both eyes is nothing to be thankful for. The visual disturbances at the beginning came as he poured his milk in the cafe downstairs. The letters on the small carton looked to quiver as though they were standing behind the heat of a flame. Then everything started to look distorted. He stayed as long as he could before the nausea kicked in and he bolted to the elevator. Jobey received no comfort from the wait as it reached the 8th floor.            Jobey had been in bed for three hours since it began and had somehow managed to fall asleep. Usually his migraines were emotionally related but under high stress they were common as well. His past four days in Vegas were what he thought to be extremely relaxing. He'd escaped the stress of home and kept a relatively peaceful beginning to the vacation, with the exception of the migraines of course.            Jobes reached out from under the covers and grasped the phone.            "Room service, this is Clarisse speaking. How may I help you?"            "Yes, hello. This is Jobey Stites on the 8th floor, second suite."            "Good morning, Mr. Stites."            "Good morning, I'm sick with a headache and I'm wondering if it was possible to have some Tylenol sent up with my lunch."            "Have you called down your order?"            "Yes."            "Then it will all be up shortly."            "Thank you very much, Clarisse."            "No problem whatsoever, Mr. Stites. Have a nice day."            Jobes extended his arm to replace the phone and rolled over onto his side. He waited a little over ten minutes before he heard the knock on the door and the congenial voice of the bellhop announcing her arrival.            He put a wet tablecloth on his forehead and walked to the door. Realizing half the pain was gone, he tossed it onto his heap of towels in the corner. As he opened the door, the bellhop rolled in his food. Jobes scanned the tray for the Tylenol and gulped down two pills. He tipped the girl for her services.            She was youthful, her blond hair pulled back with a scrunchy. He knew she was beautiful. When she looked at him to take her tip, her electrically blue eyes were magnetic to him.            "I bet she's always turning someone on," he thought and quickly looked away, clearing his throat.            She smiled and left Jobey alone again. He had to stop this sort of flirtation with women. He was good at it but hated every cheap and tawdry line he'd ever utilized. And he'd used many very successfully. Yet, when you look like Jobey does, flirtation comes easily.            Jobey possessed the same youthful charisma as the bellhop who'd just left him, only his hair was neither blond nor was it pulled back. His headache was finally killing itself completely and he took a glance at himself in the mirrored door of his closet.            Dark circles rested seemingly very comfortably below his eyes, yet with his olive complexion, he was guaranteed the minimal coverage not bestowed upon those of fairer skin. And those eyes, those warm brown eyes. Well, they've seen a lot, many things he wanted not to see but rather forget. They were the eyes of impossible honesty. Looking into them meant the end of your lying to him and the elimination of any doubt you may have had in what he was saying, because he was currently at 27 the same horrible liar he was 23 years ago.            In the summer of 1977, Jobes spent a lot of time in Central Park with his cousin Dhani Lingred. It was one of their last summers together before Dhani's family picked up and moved to New London, CT. Dhani had just gotten a new pet frog and had taken him to the park with them. It was sweltering that July day as they played, their mothers' gossiping up a storm and smoking to create the clouds. Jobey hadn't yet worn out the novelty on the bicycle he'd received for his seventh birthday, 6 months earlier. When his cousin brought his frog the two were in a constant rivalry; Jobey was jealous of the "new toy" that their fellow friends were swarming to see.            He tried unsuccessfully to regain the attention he was losing to the frog. He'd offer rides to his friends as they stood in line to play with Dhani's frog. But Dhani couldn't help that no one was really attentive to Jobes' advertising after a certain point.            Dhani had gone so far as to name the frog Mikey. How could his cousin compete? He wasn't old enough to realize that it was a standard custom to name the devices which help you get from place to place, like his first car; a red VW Golf he would name Sherry. After all, he was only four.            Dhani decided one day to let Mikey free due to the sweltering heat and humidity of the park. Mikey took that inch and ran a mile and one of the older bullies who normally targeted Jobey decided today would be the day he'd take the boy's bike on a little joy ride. So, all of Jobes' hard work and advertising were successful, just not with his intended audience.            As John the bully plowed through the park, everything was a blur through the wheels. But whereas Jobey was a small and thin, post-toddler aged child, John was not. He was a pudgy, slightly overweight, 6 and a half-year-old. He tried to play off his theft with ease but he couldn't stop his knees from smacking into the handlebars and pushing him a tad off course. Then he saw Mikey hopping off in the distance. John also hated the frog just as much as he hated Jobes for having the bicycle he'd just stolen while Jobes was getting food from his mom.            The sun was beating down onto the freshly cut grass as John peddled his way through it. He was soon biking on the hind legs of Mikey. Dhani ran to Jobey to see if he knew where Mikey was, but Jobes was too involved with his missing bike to help his cousin. He'd seen John off in the distance, speeding next to a green hopping thing. He didn't say anything, he soon lost sight of them.            Ten minutes later, Mikey was found crushed under the wheel of Jobey's bicycle. So Dhani starting crying and inevitably so did Jobes as he tried to lie. He attempted to make his cousin believe that he was the culprit but because he was crying too, no one took him seriously as anything but a victim.            Jobes was always such a horrible liar no matter how strongly he wished that not be true.            At around 1pm in Vegas that day, Jobes was feeling better. With the food in his stomach mixing with the pills he was happy that the pain was going away. Now he could go on with his day. He left the confines of his hotel room at three. It was still sunny and the brightness did little to stop the minor headache that remained. So as he walked the busy street, Jobes put on his sunglasses with the purple lenses.            He entered an adult video store. For Jobes, it was his umpteenth time. He faithfully brought back all he rented the night before and the night before that. He'd already managed to establish a fine amount of bad returns at his local Blockbuster in New York City just by renting regular movies. He figured he should wipe the slate clean.            The clerk at the register offered Jobey a lifetime membership due to the frequency of his visits but he declined knowing he wouldn't be in Las Vegas for a lifetime. Nope, a few weeks or days and he'd be gone. He would get through the insecurities that sent him there in the first place.            Jobes returned to the hotel to drop off his movies. He checked his voicemail and was stunned to have zero new messages. So, he went through his wallet to find the phone card he needed to call his work back in the city. He spoke with Marilyn, his secretary, and retrieved all his messages from the last week. As far as his boss was concerned, Jobes was in Vegas to retrieve some paintings and secure some contracts for the Museum of Modern Art- MOMA.            "You have a personal message, Mr. Stites."            "Oh really, who's it from?"            "Sebastian Fitzgerald."            "What's he have to say?"            "He wants you to call him at home."            "That won't be necessary."            "Mr. Stites, he's called for you every day since you've been gone."            "He doesn't know where I am and I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way. Please, Marilyn."            "What would you like me to tell him?"            "Tell him I'll be back in New York soon."            "He sounded emotional, sir."            "He usually does. I'll check in again tomorrow. Thank you, Marilyn. Be well."            "Goodbye, sir."            Jobey put the phone card back in his wallet and passed by a photo of Sebastian. He sighed and once again left the hotel room. This time, to visit a strip club. Please be sure and visit the message board. Thanks for reading. previous - next