Go ahead. Keep talking to me like I’m four years old — the ‘Manic’ Todd. God dealt me this hand. Let me play it my way.
Todd twisted his college ring around as he replied, “It’s… it’s not a memory I relish upon. I’m a different man now. This coma changed me. I hope for the better.”
“Todd, it’s a great thought. We can’t totally unprogram our brain chemistry, though. I want you to do like we talked about. Find some new hobbies. Collect things you enjoy. It doesn’t have to be anything conventional. In fact, I’d encourage you to make it unconventional. Integrate it. Find your Feng-Shui. Set a budget and make a plan. It’ll do wonders for your home décor. It did for my husband.”
“Did wonders? Is he gone now?”
“Yeah. He walked out on me a month ago. I don’t know what to say.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m coping with it as best as I can.”
Todd shook his head and gawked. “And they sent me to you for therapy? Come on, lady. Take a break and grieve your husband.”
“Grieve him? I didn’t say he was dead. I don’t know where he is, but I don’t think he’s dead. The best thing I can do for him is let him breathe.” She looked at her watch. “Well, that’s all the time we have for our session. I’ll send the report to Dr. Hicks to let him know your progress. RGH wants us to have at least six sessions a month for the next three months.”
Exactly the way I want to spend my time…
“Fine. Thank you, Julie.”
Todd walked out of the Riverton Behavioral Therapy Center and headed toward Riverton Financial.
Some kind of lunch break that was… shit.
SPRING 1983
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHRIS WILKERSON picked the phone off the receiver and rolled the rotary dial.
It’s time to call Katrina. It’s been five months.
The line pulsed several times before she answered, “Hello?”
“Hello, Katrina. I’m sorry I’m just getting back to you. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Hold it,” she said. “I’m the one that’s been calling you. You just took months to return my calls. I want to say my piece first.”
“No. Let me.”
Her voice raised, “No. Shut up and let me talk.”
“I’ve got a business prop….”
“What part of ‘let me talk,’ don’t you understand, idiot…? I’m not putting up with this crap.”
Are you shaking the phone at me? Seriously. Pull it together.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said. “Hey, let me talk to you about my proposition before you say anything else.”
“Fine. You have one minute. Don’t waste it.”
“Okay. It’s about Creepy Nights — I want you to come partner up with me and lead the Space Fiction floor. Don’t worry, I won’t micromanage or bother you. I know how much you’ve always liked those stories, and I don’t know which direction to take them. I know you’d do great at it.”
“Why in the world would you think I would want to come and work for you? You’ve done nothing but cause grief and stress in my life. We both know our separation was for our own good.”
Good question. Do I have an answer?
“You won’t be working for me. We’ll be ‘business… partners.’ I’ll split the proceeds from the sales with you. It’ll be a good thing. Trust me.”
“You keep forgetting that I don’t need to work again to make it. The main thing I’m unhappy about is what you’ve taken and squandered away on this Creepy Nights business venture. What’s going on at WGBO? Those guys have turned it into a big disorganized mess.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. As for Creepy Nights, trust me. It hasn’t taken long for me to realize there’s an enormous market for this, and I am all in. You know how I get with my projects. Come give it a trial run. And for Pete’s sake, drop the lawsuit talk.”
Katrina replied calmer than she had been in the previous minutes, “Okay. I’ll give you a month, and then I’ll decide from there. I owe nothing to you. Nothing at all. You stole mom from me with your nonsensical shenanigans. Innocent prank or not, she’s gone. She’s gone.”
Here we go again. Alright, then. The pleasantries are out the window.
“Stole her from you? Come on. You never liked her that much. What good was she as she moseyed about and withered away, yapping on the ‘ol horn to everyone but you? You can thank me later.”
“Screw you! I’d slap you right now if I were standing next to you. I’ll show up next week for your Space Fiction floor. If you are just doing this to manipulate me, I’ll wear you down until you’ve got nothing left. Nothing!”
“See you next week, sweetie!” Chris said.
CLICK.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KATRINA WILKERSON hung up the phone. Pacing back and forth across the living room of the Reinhold estate, she studied the coat of arms, the historical weapons of war, and the various art pieces gracing the walls. She fell to the floor in a moment of anguish.
Yes, I’ve still got a soft spot for you, Chris Wilkerson. You don’t deserve it, but I can’t help it.
After taking a bit to regain her composure, Katrina stood up and walked to the garage. She headed toward her steel-gray Firebird, got in, and drove away.
She talked quietly to herself as she drove along, “Chris, you sure wear me out sometimes…”
Cruising across town toward Oak Hollow, she psyched herself up.
I’ll just catch him by surprise. See if he means business. I could use a competitive advantage. I’m here to set up my desk early. That’s all I have to say, right?
Katrina parked and looked up at the Creepy Nights facility in disgust before proceeding to enter.
Don’t look around too much. It will just make you angry. Pull it together, lady. You’re in control.
She entered the lobby.
Well, aren’t you a pretty little broad? A little plump in the middle, but you’ve got a nice face.
“Can I help you?” Nancy asked.
“I’m Katrina Wilkerson.
