Words

by John Inman

  Still holding her gun to his temple, Lois studied Bryce’s expression as if she had never seen a creature more pathetic.

  “See?” she said, watching Bryce but speaking to Milo and Logan. “See how easy it is? People see death approaching, and they simply shut down. Rarely do they fight back. Especially the cowards.”

  Speaking in a coldly mocking tone, as if she had not the least expectation in the world of having her request refused, she said, “You’ll do what I say now, won’t you, dear? Lift your gun, Bryce. Lift your gun, press it to your temple, and pull the trigger. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you. I can mimic a suicide victim’s contact wound if I have to, but it just dawned on me that it will simplify matters greatly to have the gunpowder residue already on your hands. Then I’ll use the same gun to dispose of the others. Or I can shoot you and the others with my own gun and leave it in your hand when I leave. It’ll be a little more work, but I don’t mind. Really I don’t. The choice is up to you, dear. Just make a decision. I’m tired of waiting.”

  “Bryce!” Milo yelled. “For Christ’s sake, fight back! Shoot her!”

  Bryce’s gaze never once veered from Lois’s face.

  To Milo’s surprise, tears suddenly spilled from Bryce’s eyes. As if hypnotized by her words, he began to raise the gun.

  “Bryce, I loved you once,” Milo pleaded. “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself. I don’t want to see you die.”

  Lois snorted at that. “Unfortunately, Bryce doesn’t hold the same reverence for you. Or even for himself. Do you, Bryce? You really will be better off dead, you know. Your career is ruined. You’ll be a laughingstock for the rest of your life. You’ll never publish another word. Not that you ever really did. Not your own words anyway.”

  “She’s mocking you!” Logan bellowed. “Fucking shoot her!”

  But Bryce simply stood there, slowly raising the gun, turning the barrel toward himself now, preparing to nestle it against the side of his head again, exactly as she commanded him to do.

  “I’m going to stop this,” Logan hissed in Milo’s ear, but before he could spring forward, Lois snapped toward him, leveling the gun this time directly at Milo’s throat.

  “If you move an inch, there will be no more deep-throating from your precious Milo because he won’t have a throat left to deep-throat with! Of course, your deep-throating days are pretty much over anyway, don’t you think? I mean, what with you both about to be dead and all.”

  Milo and Logan froze. In the same instant, Bryce blinked the tears from his eyes and straightened his shoulders. He glanced at the gun in his hand, then back to the woman standing beside him.

  “It’s time I did one thing right,” he said quietly, and as soon as the words were fully uttered, he raised his pistol the rest of the way. Swiveling it quickly away from himself, he pulled the trigger.

  Before the least amount of surprise could register on Lois’s face, a perfectly round, cherry-red hole appeared in her forehead. At the very same moment a rosette of blood and brain matter, far less neat than the wound in the front, exploded from the back of her head. The blast of the gunshot echoed through the house. The brimstone reek of gunpowder filled the air, and a teeny wisp of smoke wafted from the barrel of Bryce’s Saturday night special, just like it might in the movies.

  As if the Great Puppeteer had snipped her strings, Lois Knight collapsed in a heap at Bryce’s feet.

  Still in shock, Logan and Milo took a step forward. Only one. For no sooner had they taken that one step than Bryce spun gracefully toward them. Once again he aimed his gun directly at Logan’s heart.

  “No,” Milo gasped. He clutched at Logan’s hand, pleading, refusing to let him go. “No, Bryce. Please. Don’t take him from me.”

  But Bryce merely smiled as a tear slid down his cheek. It hung sparkling from his chin, catching the light like a tiny star.

  When he spoke, his voice was strong and hale again. It was almost as if nothing had happened at all. He brushed the tear from his chin with the back of his bloodied hand, and his face sweetly softened.

  “I loved you once too, Milo. You made me happy for a while, and not many people have done that.” He paused for a moment as a hint of sadness touched his eyes, but only a hint. “What’s about to happen isn’t your fault. It’s mine. So don’t blame yourself. I’ll be happier for it. I know I will.” With a final, truer smile lighting his face, he said jokingly, “I’m sorry about ruining your carpet, but then I never really liked it anyway.”

  As his eyes narrowed in a tiny flash of self-mocking laughter, he at long last did what Lois Knight had told him to do. Never letting his sweet gaze leave Milo’s face, he lifted the gun to his head, pressed the barrel snugly to his temple, and fired it once again.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Chapter Sixteen

  EXEUNT OMNES… and the actors leave the stage

  Logan and Milo strolled along the promenade in Seaport Village, staring out at San Diego Bay while dusk dimmed the water from blue to black. The navigation lights of sailboats blinked on here and there as darkness deepened. Up ahead where it was docked permanently at Navy Pier, the lights of the massive aircraft carrier, the USS Midway, now a museum, flashed into life at the foot of Broadway. The reek of low tide lay heavy on the air, smelling vaguely of sea tales and tall ships. As if mocking their imaginations, seabirds made raucous comments high above their heads.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Logan murmured, tightening his fingers around Milo’s hand.

  Emerson and Spanky led the way. Emerson, never still even in sleep, was making a game of weaving in and out between Spanky’s legs and ducking under Spanky’s belly, purposely tangling their leashes, which he seemed to find highly amusing. For the umpteenth time, Logan and Milo stopped to unsnarl them, and no sooner were they finished than Emerson set about tangling them again.

  As they resumed their stroll, once again hand in hand, Milo’s voice blended softly with the cries of seagulls and the a cappella song of a buoy bell chiming merrily in the distance.

  “We walked along here on our first date. Do you remember?”

  Logan’s eyes softened. “Yes, I remember. I think I loved you before that first walk was over.”

  Milo scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

  Logan simply smiled to himself, a little superciliously, refusing to argue. He knew what he knew. If Milo didn’t believe him, it was no skin off his nose.

  They stopped and leaned against the sea wall, gazing out at the water. Milo dug two dog biscuits out of his pocket and dropped them at his feet. Emerson and Spanky snatched them out of the air before they ever hit the ground.

  “I keep thinking about Bryce,” Milo said.

  Logan agreed softly, “I know you have.”

  Milo snuck a glance at Logan’s face. “Has it been that obvious?”

  Logan lifted Milo’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. It was a sad thing all around. Lois Knight destroyed a lot of lives. I don’t imagine she’s enjoying a cup of tea in heaven tonight.”

  “No,” Milo agreed. “I don’t suppose she is.” After a moment, he added. “Bryce was right about the old carpet, you know. It sucked. I never did like it either.”

  Logan offered a weary chuckle while laying a soothing hand to Milo’s arm. “Well, it’s no longer there, so you don’t have to hate it anymore.”

  They had just spent six days trapped in a motel with the two dogs. First, the police had thrown them out of their own house for three days while the crime scene was processed. When the cops were gone, it had taken another three days for the carpet in the house, irreparably soaked in blood, to be removed, the hardwood floors refinished, and the furniture put back in place. They had talked about simply repairing the bloodstained area in the hall, but Milo had pointed out that every time he looked at it, a host of unwanted memories would come flooding back. That was the last thing Logan wanted for him. Now that the work was finished, they liked
the hardwood floors better anyway.

  “He wasn’t a bad person, you know. I think if Bryce had one overriding fault, it was weakness. I also think if he had lived, if he had stuck to his dream of being a writer, he might even have succeeded, even with a charge of plagiarism sullying his past. He could have overcome it if he worked hard enough. He might have one day seen his dream become a reality. If only he hadn’t… done what he did.”

  As they resumed their stroll, Logan edged closer and draped a comforting arm over Milo’s shoulder. “He didn’t want you to feel bad about what happened to him at the end. He said as much, Milo. And I think you’re right. It was his weakness that killed him. He wasn’t strong enough to face what was about to happen to him. The disgrace and shame brought about by the plagiarism charge was too much for him to handle. I suppose he felt he was taking the only way out he could. At least he chose not to hurt you. For that, I’ll always think well of him.”

  Milo’s eyes turned to Logan. He stopped and stepped into Logan’s arms while the dogs milled about their feet.

  Logan kissed Milo’s hair and smelled the sweet scent of his shampoo. He cupped his fingers around the back of Milo’s neck, gently holding him close while tourists strolled past, purposely averting their gaze.

  “Thank you for saying that,” Milo whispered, his face buried in the front of Logan’s shirt. “He didn’t hurt you either.” He lifted his gaze to Logan’s eyes. “I thank God for that every day.”

  Logan laid his fingers to Milo’s cheek. “Then he did two good things in the end. That’s probably more than most of us accomplish.”

  “Yes,” Milo said sadly. “I suppose it is.”

  He eased himself out of Logan’s arms and stared down at the dogs. The leashes were tangled again.

  “You’ll have to carry Emerson home, you know. It’s too far for his little legs.”

  Logan smiled down at the Yorkie, who was gazing back as if he knew what they were saying. Nobody liked a free ride more than Emerson. “I don’t mind,” Logan said. “It’s not like he’s a burden. He weighs about the same as a Big Mac.”

  “Ooh,” Milo said, wiping the residue of tears from his eyes. “Good idea. Let’s stop for a sandwich on the way home.”

  “We’ll have to eat it on the street. No restaurant is going to let these mutts inside.”

  “I don’t care if you don’t.”

  That settled, they walked on. They hugged the bay for a while, but soon veered inland, aiming for the hill that would eventually lead them home. There was a Jack in the Box along the way. They’d stop and grab a couple of sandwiches as they passed.

  Milo cast a final glance back at the water. Logan thought he looked sad when he did.

  “Logan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think the trollers will come back in full force now that they know they’re safe again?”

  “Yes, I suppose they will. But there are still a lot of honest, caring reviewers out there. People know the difference, I think. In spite of what Lois Knight did, I think readers always know when a review is written from the heart, and not from jealousy or hatred or whatever other emotion the trolls tap into. People don’t stop loving their favorite books or abandon their favorite writers because of one or two bad reviews. They never have. And writers really do need to be a little more tough-skinned if they want to survive. There’s no other way to live the life they’ve chosen.”

  Again, Logan’s hand found Milo’s. He clutched it as if it were a safety line to every ounce of happiness in his life. As indeed it was.

  “I love you, Milo Cook. I hope you know that,” Logan whispered, just as a streetlight blinked on above their heads.

  Milo leaned against Logan’s shoulder as their fingers intertwined, more tightly this time.

  “Yes,” Milo said, his eyes gentle. “It so happens I do know.”

  Logan bent and scooped Emerson off the sidewalk. Tucking him under his chin, Logan smiled and pulled Milo just a little bit closer.

  Together, the four of them grew smaller and smaller as they strolled off into the distance. In their wake, the seagulls swooped and cried, and the final gasp of dusk turned to night across the bay.

  Arm in arm, and walking slowly in deference to Spanky’s age, Logan and Milo spoke quietly of inconsequential things while the memory of their horrible adventure blessedly, and surprisingly, began to recede inside their heads.

  While the darkness gathered around them and the towering lights of the city blinked on in their wake, laughter and the gentle murmur of soft words followed them up the hill.

  More from John Inman

  It’s not easy breaking into show biz. Especially when you aren’t exactly loaded with talent. But Malcolm Fox won’t let a little thing like that hold him back.

  Actually, it isn’t the show-business part of his life that bothers him as much as the romantic part—or the lack thereof. At twenty-six, Malcolm has never been in love. He lives in San Diego with his roommate, Beth, another struggling actor, and each of them is just as unsuccessful as the other. While Malcolm toddles off to this audition and that, he ponders the lack of excitement in his life. The lack of purpose. The lack of a man.

  Then Beth’s brother moves in.

  Freshly imported from Missouri of all places, Cory Williams is a towering hunk of muscles and innocence, and Malcolm is gobsmacked by the sexiness of his new roomie from the start. When infatuation enters the picture, Malcolm knows he’s really in trouble. After all, Cory is straight!

  At least, that’s the general consensus.

  Ashley James and Tucker Lee have been friends for years. They are city boys but long for life on the open trail. During a three-hundred-mile hike from the Southern California desert to the mountains around Big Bear Lake, they make some pretty amazing discoveries.

  One of those discoveries is love. A love that has been bubbling below the surface for a very long time.

  But love isn’t all they find. They also stumble upon a war—a war being waged by Mother Nature and fought tooth and claw around an epidemic of microbes and fury.

  With every creature in sight turning against them, can they survive this battle and still hold on to each other? Or will the most horrifying virus known to man lay waste to more than just wildlife this time?

  Will it destroy Ash and Tucker too?

  Wyeth Becker is a quiet man. Staid, serious, calm. A librarian. When he meets preschool teacher Deeze Long, he discovers joy for the first time in his life. With joy comes laughter, excitement, and a new way to look at the world through the eyes of the kindest, most loving man he has ever met.

  When tragedy strikes and Deeze loses his joy, it is Wyeth who helps him find it again. It is Wyeth, the man who never truly understood happiness, who pays that gift back. Giving all he can of himself to the man who changed his life. Restoring in Deeze what he now so desperately needs.

  But the road of their relationship doesn’t end there. The joys and sorrows of life are never-ending. As they set out to weather the highs and lows together, Wyeth and Deeze hang on to the one thing that makes all the tears and laughter worthwhile.

  Love.

  For only through love can life be truly savored at all.

  When it rains, it pours. Not only has Larry Walls been evicted from his apartment, but his hours have also been cut at the department store where he works, leaving him facing homelessness.

  Meanwhile, Bo Lansing, a total stranger to Larry, toils at a dead-end job as a fry cook while attending night classes to become a certified chef. When the school closes its doors without warning, leaving Bo in the lurch for thousands of dollars in tuition, his dream of becoming a chef is shattered and his financial troubles spiral.

  Desperate for a new beginning, each man answers an ad for live-in help posted by a wealthy recluse, and wonder of wonders, they are both hired! Just as their lives begin to improve, a young Kumeyaay Indian named Jimmy Blackstone joins the workforce at the Stanhope mansion.

  When Mr. Sta
nhope’s true reason for hiring the young men is discovered by one of the three, a fourth entity makes its presence known.

  Greed.

  With all these players vying for position in a game of intrigue orchestrated by one lonely old man and a mischievous ghost, can a simple thing like love ever hope to survive the fray?

  Danny Sims is in over his head, torn between his abusive lover, Joshua, and Jay Holtsclaw, the bartender up the street, who offers Danny the one thing he never gets at home: understanding.

  When Joshua threatens to get rid of Danny’s terrier, Danny knows he has to act fast. Afraid of what Joshua will do to the dog and afraid of what Joshua will do to him if he tries to leave, Danny does the only thing he can do.

  He runs.

  But Danny isn’t a complete fool. He has enough sense to run into the arms of the man who actually cares for him—the man he’s beginning to trust.

  Just as their lives together are starting to fall into place, Danny and Jay learn how vengeful Joshua can be.

  And how dangerous.

  Readers love John Inman

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  “This story captivated me… A perfect finish and happy ever after.”

  —Open Skye Book Reviews

  The Hike

  “Once again, John Inman assures his spot as a topnotch horror writer who uses a deft hand to weave in just enough romance to ease the tension and keep the reader on the edge of their seat.”

  —The Novel Approach

  “The Hike is one of my favorite stories of the year so far.”

  —Joyfully Jay

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