Business
by: T.D. Edwards
The warm light shining through the bedroom window did nothing to stifle the cold chill running through his body as he woke up to the deafening crash and his name being screamed.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
As had been the case for a month, the echoes of his recurring nightmare eventually faded and reality set in that his brother would never call his name again. Chad was dead.
Ted forced himself out of bed and headed straight to the kitchen to get the coffee broiling. Caffeine provided a minimal comfort if he drank enough of it since he did not dare touch the alcohol…
His cell phone was beeping somewhere in the living room; he hadn’t answered his fiancée when she called to check on him. It was getting difficult to face Norma these days. Though he tried not to think about it, he too easily recalled her questions about Chad.
“Exactly what kind of work does your brother do?”
“He’s a business man.”
Ted gave the same answer repeatedly with no ability to elaborate. Deep down, he knew something shady was involved; the murky circumstances of Chad’s death was proof of it. Yet, Ted couldn’t stand the smug gleam he swore he saw beneath Norma’s sympathetic expression when he looked at her. He thought of the frown she always wore when Chad came to visit the daughter shared. Stacy’s love for Uncle Chad nearly eclipsed her love for her own parents, thanks to Chad’s extravagant gifts.
“It’s like Christmas when you visit, Chad. Business is that good, huh?”
Chad would smirk. “Always is, brother.”
“What kind of business is it again?”
“My business.”
Now with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, Ted headed to retrieve the mail. It was warm outside. Yet, he sipped the hot coffee anyway. The weather’s warmth didn’t alleviate the coldness embedded inside of him. Pulling out the mail, his eyes landed on a hurriedly written note. The scribbled handwriting read:
Do as I say and you won’t get hurt.
1. Calmly go back inside.
2. Lock the front door.
3. Wait.
The coffee mug shook in Ted’s hands. He glanced around, his heart pounding in response to the distinct feeling of being watched. The warm breeze that caressed his face may as well have been ice water.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
Walking quickly but not wanting to draw attention to himself, he made it back inside. With trembling hands, he locked the door and continued counting his measured breaths. Backing away from the door, he read the note again, trying to decipher meaning from it and who it could possibly be from.
His coffee mug went crashing straight to the floor when a shrill ringing broke the silence of his home. The telephone. He hurried toward it, afraid of the noise it was making.
“Hello?” he whispered.
“Four. Don’t answer the front door.”
The line went dead.
The doorbell rang.
Terrified, Ted stood on the spot, listening to the doorbell being pressed repeatedly, followed by rapid and frantic knocking. The phone was still gripped tightly in his hand when the thought to call 911 occurred to him. But before he could act, the back door burst open.
A man dressed in all black with dark shades covering his eyes advanced on him. Before Ted knew it, he was seized in the man’s grip and being half carried out of his own home, wearing nothing but his pajamas and fear...
Perhaps it was all a dream.
The thought ceased when Ted saw an unfamiliar car sitting in his backyard. The car had driven straight through his garage. Beneath his fear, he realized that the horrifically loud crash he had woken up to that morning hadn’t been an echo of his recurring nightmare after all…
Dirt crumbling into his house-shoes as he was dragged across the demolished lawn, Ted was shoved into the backseat. Behind the driver's wheel sat a hooded man who immediately sped off down the alley. The force of the acceleration gave Ted whiplash. He struggled to catch his breath. There was no point in counting when it sunk in that he was being kidnapped. Yet, his eyes landed on a photo near the dashboard. His own daughter looked back at him from the photo he had given his brother just this past Christmas…
“I need a new partner, brother. Need you to trust me. Just gotta take care of some business first,” Chad said from the driver’s seat.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
As had been the case for a month, the echoes of his recurring nightmare eventually faded and reality set in that his brother would never call his name again. Chad was dead.
Ted forced himself out of bed and headed straight to the kitchen to get the coffee broiling. Caffeine provided a minimal comfort if he drank enough of it since he did not dare touch the alcohol…
His cell phone was beeping somewhere in the living room; he hadn’t answered his fiancée when she called to check on him. It was getting difficult to face Norma these days. Though he tried not to think about it, he too easily recalled her questions about Chad.
“Exactly what kind of work does your brother do?”
“He’s a business man.”
Ted gave the same answer repeatedly with no ability to elaborate. Deep down, he knew something shady was involved; the murky circumstances of Chad’s death was proof of it. Yet, Ted couldn’t stand the smug gleam he swore he saw beneath Norma’s sympathetic expression when he looked at her. He thought of the frown she always wore when Chad came to visit the daughter shared. Stacy’s love for Uncle Chad nearly eclipsed her love for her own parents, thanks to Chad’s extravagant gifts.
“It’s like Christmas when you visit, Chad. Business is that good, huh?”
Chad would smirk. “Always is, brother.”
“What kind of business is it again?”
“My business.”
Now with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, Ted headed to retrieve the mail. It was warm outside. Yet, he sipped the hot coffee anyway. The weather’s warmth didn’t alleviate the coldness embedded inside of him. Pulling out the mail, his eyes landed on a hurriedly written note. The scribbled handwriting read:
Do as I say and you won’t get hurt.
1. Calmly go back inside.
2. Lock the front door.
3. Wait.
The coffee mug shook in Ted’s hands. He glanced around, his heart pounding in response to the distinct feeling of being watched. The warm breeze that caressed his face may as well have been ice water.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
Walking quickly but not wanting to draw attention to himself, he made it back inside. With trembling hands, he locked the door and continued counting his measured breaths. Backing away from the door, he read the note again, trying to decipher meaning from it and who it could possibly be from.
His coffee mug went crashing straight to the floor when a shrill ringing broke the silence of his home. The telephone. He hurried toward it, afraid of the noise it was making.
“Hello?” he whispered.
“Four. Don’t answer the front door.”
The line went dead.
The doorbell rang.
Terrified, Ted stood on the spot, listening to the doorbell being pressed repeatedly, followed by rapid and frantic knocking. The phone was still gripped tightly in his hand when the thought to call 911 occurred to him. But before he could act, the back door burst open.
A man dressed in all black with dark shades covering his eyes advanced on him. Before Ted knew it, he was seized in the man’s grip and being half carried out of his own home, wearing nothing but his pajamas and fear...
Perhaps it was all a dream.
The thought ceased when Ted saw an unfamiliar car sitting in his backyard. The car had driven straight through his garage. Beneath his fear, he realized that the horrifically loud crash he had woken up to that morning hadn’t been an echo of his recurring nightmare after all…
Dirt crumbling into his house-shoes as he was dragged across the demolished lawn, Ted was shoved into the backseat. Behind the driver's wheel sat a hooded man who immediately sped off down the alley. The force of the acceleration gave Ted whiplash. He struggled to catch his breath. There was no point in counting when it sunk in that he was being kidnapped. Yet, his eyes landed on a photo near the dashboard. His own daughter looked back at him from the photo he had given his brother just this past Christmas…
“I need a new partner, brother. Need you to trust me. Just gotta take care of some business first,” Chad said from the driver’s seat.
Copyright © T.D. Edwards 2014