Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One

by Adam Knight

  But her eyes were still worried.

  “Just try to open up, Joe.” Cathy said, motioning with her hands. “I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to be as honest as possible. Don’t be afraid to show some emotion or elaborate.”

  Mr. Cooper’s TV class came back to me suddenly. “Speak in precise, concise sentences as often as possible. Speak in sound bites. Don’t ramble on forever, but be passionate about what you’re saying.”

  Cathy’s smile softened, becoming genuine. “You missed your calling, Joe.”

  I missed a lot of things.

  Chapter 16

  Being interviewed is awkward.

  You get asked a lot of questions that are very similar to each other. It’s a technique used in media all the time to try and get a deeper more honest answer out of someone who’s trying to forward an agenda at the expense of the facts. Very often in media scrums when a politician is making a presentation at a new facility opening, or during an election season said politician will have one or two sound bites that they really want to get across and will use them in the answer to every question. Which makes the whole scrum a complete waste of time as the media asks the same question in several different ways only to get the same answer back without much of variance.

  One day I’ll work in media and I’ll air the unedited version of a political media scrum on the six o’clock news and make both sides look like fools.

  And then I’d get fired.

  But it’d be worth it.

  In a case like this, Cathy was just covering all her bases. Not in an attempt to embarrass me but to try and get the best possible response to sensitive questions.

  “How long have you been working nightclub security?”

  “Ten years, off and on.”

  “So in ten years of working in nightclubs have you ever been involved in an incident that violent before?”

  “Most nights are very calm. It’s my job to keep things that way before trouble escalates.”

  “But in all the time you’ve been working clubs, ten years you said – you’ve never seen a night like that before?”

  “No. That’s the first night I’ve been shot.”

  See what I mean?

  Cathy was very smooth. Her face a calm pool, giving as much sympathy and interest as one could possibly convey. It’s a very fine line to walk especially on camera. When you’re tight in frame it’s very easy to over emote and come across as phony. At the same time if you hold back too much its equally easy to become robotic.

  Riding that tight line of professional integrity and sympathy is incredibly difficult. It’s the old actor’s saying – if you can fake sincerity, you’ve got it made.

  It became easy after the first few minutes to open up some. Likely because of our history together more than anything she was doing to coerce answers out of me. I always remember meeting Cathy that first week of college where despite being a big and clumsy oaf we hit it off right away. Academically I mean. We were both interested in TV as a medium and its ability to convey truth as well as lies, both of which we easily misconstrued by the viewing public by the smallest changes in presentation. We found other middle ground after that as well, though not in every direction I might have liked.

  Like any great puzzle, media is about presenting facts and ideas in the correct light and order. It’s up to the individual to interpret the facts as such and make their own conclusions. But given time constraints in TV, it’s very easy for messages to be lost and become enmeshed in hyperbole and rhetoric.

  Which is something I was desperately trying to avoid and which Cathy’s boss desperately wanted from me.

  So we danced. Cathy would ask hard questions in different ways and I would try to give concise answers that suited my own agenda.

  To her credit, she gave me ample opportunity to express my gratitude to the members of the paramedic and hospital staff who had taken care of me. Keeping me going until getting paddled back to life. I was strangely unemotional talking about that and was thankfully given another chance to express the feelings. I didn’t produce tears or anything, but I wanted to make certain my gratitude was heartfelt. Again it’s easy to come off as robotic, especially when you’re going in as anonymously as possible.

  We went back and forth with questions for a good half an hour. Dealing with the basics of the incident, how things had degenerated as quickly as they had and then the aftermath. Cathy prodded at me several times along her preferred line of questioning regarding the “inefficiencies inherent in the Health Authority” and “the obvious lack of genuine interest in investigating the catastrophic malfunctions.” I obliged her by agreeing that I would like to see an internal investigation made public, but turned it back to how grateful I was to the staff and nurses for all their support during my time of need.

  Blah. Blah. Blah.

  Media pablum.

  But if it helped her out, I would play along.

  Besides.

  I missed her.

  We were friends. Maybe I wanted more than that. I don’t know anymore. It was too damned long ago to know for sure.

  Since things changed in my life and I found myself dealing with real grown up issues, more or less on my own I lost the ability to connect with my fellow students. Dealing with the sort of things that most of my peers weren’t able to understand or relate to.

  Most of that was me shunning their help I’m sure. Being all bitter, stubborn and more than a little embarrassed.

  It felt good to be able to talk to someone. Even if I wasn’t being completely forthcoming.

  Cathy checked her notecards for a moment, shuffling between them with pursed-lips-dimples all abloom.

  I waited patiently, that faint thrumming sensation still resonating in my head.

  “I only have a few more questions, Joe. Thank you for doing this.”

  I shrugged. “Are you getting what you need?”

  Off to the side I saw Jimmy poke his head out from behind the camera and give me a thumbs up. “Getting some great visuals. The whole darkness vibe gives your answers even more gravity.”

  “Absolutely, Joe. Some very compelling stuff.” Cathy shuffled a bit more through her cards before settling on one. She stared at it for a moment.

  “You have pensive face,” I told her.

  Her eyes flicked up to me. “Do I?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  I nodded to her cards. “Is that where you ask me about my childhood? All my deep dark secrets?”

  Cathy shook her head slightly.

  I motioned her forward. “Then bring it on. I still have one more stop this afternoon.”

  Cathy set her eyes firmly and checked with Jimmy. He gave the “still rolling” sign. She took a deep breath.

  “How do you feel about Keimac Cleghorn being released from custody?”

  Why did that name ring a bell?

  “Who?”

  “Keimac Cleghorn? The man who shot you?”

  Oh yeah. Right.

  Wait, what?

  I sat up straight in my seat making my bruised abdomen add emphasis to my voice. “What?” I snarled.

  Cathy visibly flinched. Then regained her TV face. “How do you feel about Keimac Cleghorn being released from custody?”

  I blinked rapidly. Distantly I could feel the thrumming in the air increase slightly, but my mind was too busy rolling that simple question around in my head again to pay it any heed.

  “What … When?”

  Cathy’s expression remained impassive. “Keimac Cleghorn was released this morning on his own recognizance after prosecutors were able to confirm that police on scene did not follow proper procedures upon detaining him.”

  “He … Dozens of people saw him shoot me.”

  “Allegedly.”

  The thrum began to tingle.

  “What?”

  “Allegedly saw him shoot you. As he was improperly arrested and assaulted on site in front of witnesses by off duty office
rs. As such his actions are officially of an alleged nature.”

  I smoldered. My heart beating angrily and the tingle growing stronger.

  “So they let him go?”

  “Yes they did.”

  “And you want to know how I feel?”

  “I do.”

  My hands gripped the arms of the chair firmly and I worked very hard to control my breathing. That thrum was getting impossible to ignore and I began to feel warm, my neck tingling in time to the thrum in the air.

  At that moment I knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  And I was afraid I was about to become the lightning rod for something terrifying.

  All around me I could feel the thrumming sensation. No longer in my head, but along my skin. In my scalp. Hair standing on end, like the familiar adrenaline induced gooseflesh I am used to. But more intense. And all over.

  Something was building around me and the news that my attempted killer was loose on a fucking technicality had pushed me to the edge.

  I couldn’t answer her. I was too busy trying to control my breathing, to bring down my heart rate. To gain control.

  Cathy leaned in, reaching out a hand to mine. “It’s okay Joe. You don’t have to …”

  A spark leaped from my knuckles to her palm with a hissing crack. Like when you build up a static charge by scuffling your feet on the carpet during a dry day. You have that latent charge running through your body and then sneak up behind a buddy and zap em.

  Everybody laughs.

  Nobody laughed this time.

  Cathy gasped in surprise, lurching back and away from me clutching her hand to her breast.

  The lighting grid around us that Jimmy and Kurt had spent so much time setting up for this interview went dead.

  Jimmy stepped back from his suddenly powered out camera while Kurt threw off his headphones, the boom microphone bombarding him with a painful squealing.

  I jumped up out of my chair. Staring at the scene around me. Over in the production area, a few people had turned to see all the ruckus. Same from the administration end. People peering around corners and whispering amongst themselves. A few interns began making their way over.

  The disruption was minimal, only to the immediate area of the set. Nothing appeared to be damaged overtly. None of lights had burst and there was no smoke in the air.

  “Cathy,” I muttered turning to her. I reached over to her, anguish written all over my face. “Dammit Cathy, I’m…”

  “I’m so sorry, Joe.” She said, wringing out her hand with a faint grimace. “We’ve been having power issues like crazy since the snow began melting.”

  I blinked.

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt acknowledge, rubbing a finger in one ear to clear it. “I’ve blown two panels this week alone.”

  “It’s half the reason why we took so long getting things set up today,” Jimmy cut in, examining his video camera. “Hydro says it’s something to do with the old cabling leftover from when this building was a power station. With the extra humidity in the air and the ground it can cause surges.”

  Cathy stood up next to me and let me look at her hand. No damage. I breathed a sigh of relief. “The boss has a couple of high end surge protectors on back order. Should be in by the end of next week.”

  I stared at her blankly. “So, you guys are all right?”

  Jimmy and Kurt waved at me, making with variations on the manly rebuffing of all things weird and painful. Cathy looked away from me shyly.

  I was still holding her hand between mine.

  Smooth.

  I cleared my throat and pulled away, running my fingers through my dry, frazzled hair. She stepped back as well, making a show of adjusting her skirt and blazer.

  “Think you got what you need?”

  “We got lots,” Cathy said, skimming over her cards once again. “We’ll probably have too much for a simple two minute segment. I’m hoping to get permission to put together a full fifteen minute special for the weekend cast, complete with footage from the scene and the rest.”

  “Okay.”

  I stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then picked up my gym bag and swung it over my shoulder.

  Cathy grabbed my arm before I could go.

  “I really am sorry, Joe.”

  “Hey, shit happens.” I said hurriedly, trying to shrug it off. I had to get out of there. The thrumming sensation had died away, but the tingle still remained. And coincidence was getting hard to ignore.

  “No, about telling you like that.”

  I blinked.

  “About the shooter?”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  The shock had faded slightly and I was able to be rational about the news.

  “He really got released?”

  “This morning.”

  “All charges dropped?”

  “More or less.”

  I raised my eyebrow inquisitively.

  “One of the officers was seen knocking him unconscious after he was already restrained,” Cathy elaborated, a look of disgust on her face. “In the eyes of the law that negates his arrest.”

  “And negates his attempted murder?”

  She raised her arms outwards in a helpless shrug. “This is why I’m a reporter and not a lawyer. It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

  I said nothing. But I did it loudly.

  “What?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Joe, if you need to talk …”

  “I don’t.”

  I turned away and stalked out of the studio, people parting out of my way.

  Chapter 17

  What do they call it when you get a chill up your spine for no reason?

  Somebody just stepped on your grave.

  Is that it?

  Well, you get the same feeling when you stand in the spot where you should have died.

  The snow was almost melted away from the curb in front of Cowboy Shotz. The light post to the right of me was rusted some at the base. More than before? Hard to say. I never really gave a damn about how the sidewalk looked.

  Police tape had been removed from the scene of course, but fragments of cellophane remained on spots if you cared to look for them. Separate from the tape used to hold up event posters for bands and rival nightclubs.

  So much blood.