I lived in a tiny apartment about a half mile from Cindi’s Indie, Nellie’s bookstore and her and Owen’s apartment upstairs from the store. I opened the creaky wooden door and put my bag on the tiny counter of the kitchenette. I lived sparsely and simply. By the window was a double bed, a futon couch thing on the other side of the room and a flat screen on the wall. It was all I needed. When Nellie and my mom first came over they called it ‘Bachelor Pitiful.’ But I could care less, anyway, who in the Hell was I going to impress?
My cell phone buzzed and I reached into my pocket to see the message.
Family dinner tonight.
We had family dinners every single Tuesday night without fail and had since Owen and Nellie got married. Mom had demanded it since we were all growing up and leaving the nest. Maddox acted like it annoyed him, but I knew he loved it.
I showered and got dressed for dinner. I put on a white t shirt, jeans and Doc Martens. I combed my hair straight back, not willing to put in the time or the effort in spiking it up. I went downstairs and got into my 1976 Ford Truck. It had tons of miles on it but ran like brand new.
I got to the restaurant and pulled around the back, wanting to enter through the backdoor. I quietly made my way in but they were waiting for me, the lot of traitors waited for me.
The whole damned restaurant started a silly rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ at once, complete with my brothers interjecting their own moronic phrases in between chorus lines.
After they finished and I was thoroughly embarrassed, we ate Mom’s lemon cheesecake and that was my only birthday wish. They gave me presents but I chose to open them later on. We sat there until Owen yawned a very loud, very fake yawn and we all knew it was his cue to get his wife home. My parents followed afterwards and I left before Maddox could beat me to it. I was usually the last one out, but not tonight.
I got into my truck and fired it up after piling the presents on the bench seat. As I drove I shrugged my shoulders to myself. I guess I am an old man after all. What guy goes home alone on his 20th birthday? Me, that’s who.
Please continue reading for a sample from Cambria Herbert’s novel, Recalled.
Chapter One
“Dying - ceasing to live; approaching death; expiring: a dying man.”
Dex
I’m going to hell. I’ve known this since I was ten years old. The year I murdered someone. Knowing my fate made it a lot easier to determine how I was going to live my life and what kind of person I was going to be. Since I wasn’t going to heaven, why bother living like it?
And so, my destiny was sealed long before most even think about it. I never worry about it because I don’t really care. I figure since I’m already living like I belong there, it won’t be much of an adjustment. I actually look forward to one aspect of hell: the heat. After almost eighteen years of living in the blistering cold, I’m still not used to it. I still don’t like it. Honestly, I don’t like much of anything.
Sliding into the shadows of a narrow alley, I positioned myself so I could look for the lucky person who’d help me get warm. After a few people passed—without realizing I was watching, debating what kind of mark they would be—I settled on my victim. I had yet to see her, but I knew without a doubt it was a her. The sound of high-heeled boots cracked down the pavement with an intonation I recognized well: exhaustion. With every slap of her boots, another lighter noise caught my attention—coins hitting together as she walked.
I sank back, keeping an ear on the approaching footsteps. It wouldn’t be long before I would be warming myself with a hot cup of coffee and a slice of homemade pie. I smiled at the irony that the very place I planned to go was the very place she just left. It was almost too easy. Usually, I liked a challenge, the thrill of outsmarting an impossible target. I liked stealing from people who were too stupid to know what happened right under their noses.
Not tonight.
Tonight the cold seemed colder and my stomach emptier. As she drew near, I straightened, pulled my cap lower on my head, and walked right out onto the sidewalk. I didn’t look at her; I pretended she wasn’t even there.
She wasn’t as smooth.
I felt her stare and I knew her eyes probably widened at my unexpected appearance. Her steps faltered, just barely. In fact, if I weren’t paying attention to the clap of her feet, I wouldn’t have noticed.
But I did.
I looked up, right at her. Her startled, wary expression was exactly as I expected. So I did the unexpected.
I smiled.
This time her steps noticeably faltered before they quickened. Unfortunately for her, the sidewalks were icy and she slipped. Fortunately for me, I was right there to catch her, sliding my free hand down into the front pocket of her apron.
“Easy there,” I told her as my hand closed around a stack of bills. “It’s a long way down.”
Her eyes stretched wide as I steadied her on the pavement and stepped back, stuffing my hands into my jacket. I could taste the coffee already. She continued to stare without saying anything. It was weird, and I got what I wanted, so I walked away.
“Hey!”
I froze, pivoting slightly on my heel. She couldn’t possibly know I just picked her pocket. It was over in less than five seconds. Not responding would only confirm her suspicions, if she had any, so I raised my eyebrows in silent inquiry.
“Thank you.”
Thank you? When she got home later and realized all her tips from the night were gone, she would regret those words. Although, I did teach her a very important lesson so maybe the thanks were deserved. Maybe this would teach her not to go walking around alone in a dark, not-so-great neighborhood.
“Yeah.” I answered, because she was doing that staring thing again and I just wanted to get rid of her.
Thankfully, she seemed to pick up on the fact I didn’t want to chat and she turned, walking to stand just below the bus sign. The bus rounded the corner and barreled toward the stop.
I opened the door to the little diner, welcomed by a blast of heat. The aroma of baking pie beckoned me. Then, for some unknown reason, I looked back.
Everything slowed.
The bus driver recognized he was going too fast and slammed on the brakes. The heavy bus fishtailed on the sheet of black ice and slid forward, coming up over the curb, pulverizing a bench and sliding right at the waitress.
No!
I shoved her out of the way of sure and certain death. She landed roughly on her side a few feet away.
Our eyes met.
I paused instantly to wonder what the hell I was thinking. Just as quickly, the bus plowed into me, stealing my breath and crunching my bones. I landed in the middle of the street, a crumpled mess. Everything was silent when I finally opened my eyes. She was there, leaning over me, tears on her face. I always knew I would go to hell.
I just never knew it would be so soon.
About Airicka Phoenix
Airicka Phoenix is the author of The Touch Series, with short stories in the Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology and two in the Midnight Surrender Anthology. When she's not hammering away at the keyboard, she can be found banishing pirates or crawling through the attic looking for lost treasure with her kids. She loves baking, gardening and reading. She also likes to travel and take pictures of everything she comes across. When asked, Airicka describes herself as a sarcastic basket case that has an unhealthy addiction to chocolate, old movies and really bad jokes. She loves to laugh, make friends and write. If she could have one wish granted, it would be to spend one day as a fly-on-the-wall inside Stephen King's mind. If she could have two wishes granted, she would ask for a castle dedicated entirely to her overwhelming collection of books.
For more about Airicka, also on how to win giveaways, read author interviews and reviews, visit her website at: http://airickaphoenix.com/Author/
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