“Worse, because you laugh at your own jokes.”
“Someone has to. And I’m on it. Let’s see what I unearth.”
“No, just no.”
She giggles as I snatch my nearly empty Starbucks paper cup. Truth is, I don’t need coffee to wake up. I don’t need anything to perk up, quite frankly. A body that’s capable of near-instant healing also comes with a brain that fires at peak efficiency: no brain fog, no sugar crashes, nothing to dull the edge. Just clean, relentless clarity.
I smile to myself as I sip the rest of the deliciousness. Yes, I drink coffee for the flavor, not the caffeine high. So far, this case is shaping up to be a normal one. No supernatural undercurrents, no ghostly whispering, no dark forces stirring at the edge of my senses.
Just a fossil theft. Just bones. Granted, extremely valuable bones, but that’s it. Then again, I’ve been around long enough to know that nothing is ever just bones.
We’ll see...
Chapter Five
As I navigate the morning traffic on Harbor Boulevard, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel of the Momvan. Yes, I still call it that, even though it’s more of a rolling command center these days.
My youngest, Paxton, sits in the passenger seat beside me, earbuds in, scrolling on her phone. She’s fourteen now, complete with teenage eye rolls and still obsessed with unicorns, though I still catch flashes of the little girl she used to be when she giggles at something or slips her arm through mine on the couch at night.
“Remember, Mom,” she says, pulling out one earbud as we near her middle school, “I’ve got my book club today. Pick me up atfour, not three.”
“Got it, two o’clock it is.” I flash her a grin.
She slaps my shoulder. “Mom!”
“Oops, sorry. I mean three o’clock.”
“Ma! Four o’clock!”
“If you insist. Be good, kiddo.”
She snorts. “I’m always good.”
“What book are you ladies discussing today? More vampires?”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not for me.”
She gives me a smirk as she hops out, and for a second, I can’t help smiling back. As I drive off, I wave at her and shout, “See you at five o’clock!”
“Maaaaa...” she squeals, her voice trailing behind me. I continue waving out the window.
As I continue on, a stray thought drifts through my mind, unbidden:my life really would make a good series of paranormal novels.
Ya think?
The truth is, I’ve heard rumors. Whispers that somewhere out there, a seriesdoesexist, stories about me, written by a creator in his own right. That these thoughts of mine aren’t really mine at all, buthis, spilling across a keyboard, across a screen, from his world into mine. Hell, directly into my head.
Who told me that nonsense?
None other than Norm the psycho artificial intelligence himself... yeah, the AI who nearly created a nuclear meltdown in Orange County. He once claimed that my world paralleled the writer’s own creations; that I existed here in flesh and blood in my world, but as ink, pages, and words inhisworld.
Once, not too long ago, I might have crossed the veil between worlds... at a Starbucks, of all places, where I met a healthy-looking blond guy who seemed just as shocked to see me as I was to see him.
What did Norm say of that meeting? That it was chronicled in a short story called “Blue Moon.” As in, once in a once-in-a-blue-moon encounter.
Well, whoever you are, Mr. Rain (yeah, I know your name), for the love of all that is holy, please don’t kill me off any time soon. I’ve got three kids, for goodness’ sake. I kinda want to see them grow up, get married, and give me grandkids.
