[2016] In Good Time

by Aqua Allsopp

  © Copyright 2016 by Aqua Allsopp

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  From the Author:

  6 Special Bonus Stories INSIDE!

  Thanks you for downloading this book.

  CHECK OUT other CLEAN romance books that you may enjoy!

  A Mismatch Made in Muscle

  Game of Love

  A Faith Much-Damned

  In Good Time

  Clean Western Romance

  By: Aqua Allsopp

  In Good Time

  Chapter 1

  He brushed his hand over the scalp of his young, blond head of hair. His day wasn’t too bad – by his standards. One employee termination, one hostile meeting, and some commonplace drama. He pulled through the day, shrugging his shoulders at the normal tensions and problems.

  Welcome to Corporate America – where the days are often dramatic and tense. For a Vice President of Operations, Jeff’s vocational importance was great, and he handled it well. Sometimes, a rare bird enters the sky and flies through the scene beautifully. That was Jeff.

  His most notable accomplishment was the fact that he helped steer his troubled company – First Choice Savings and Loan – through the worst recession since the Great Depression. Like many other banks at the time, his ended up on life support after a wave of unemployment, foreclosures, bankruptcies, and economic collapse. He is the man. He made it work. To put it profanely, he kicks ass.

  He has an odd fetish, too. He really likes watches and clocks. His coworkers always joke about the fact that it must explain his near-fanatical obsession about punctuality. Nobody, including Jeff, can explain why he loves watches, but he just does.

  He shut the rickety door of one of his favorite stores. It made its standard, lopsided close. Jeff waved his single-watched hand at the shopkeeper of the ‘Time of Day’ store. “Hey Steve. How’s your day going?”

  Steve delicately removed a jeweler’s eyepiece from his old, tired eye and smiled over at his guest. “Ah, you know. Same old, same old.”

  Jeff offered a half-smile by curving his right, lower lip upward. “Got anything new I can look at?”

  Steve coughed and grossly gargled. After thirty years of smoking, virtually nobody would have a clear and relaxed cough. “Mostly just the standard stuff. I’ve got a few Timex watches, a grandfather clock in poor condition, and a broken watch.”

  He hummed in response and figured it wouldn’t hurt to be a little nosey. “What’s the broken watch? I mean, what brand?”

  He put down his steaming, hot coffee after taking a small and tender sip. “To be honest, I’ve never seen one before, and I can’t find a brand name carved, stamped, or written anywhere on it.”

  Jeff’s heart skipped a few beats and he paused to take it in. Yes, it might be a piece of junk that is useless, but maybe not. If the well-seasoned shopkeeper had never seen one before, that logically meant that it was also a rare watch. Rare, sometimes, meant money. “Can I see it?”

  He let out a replying nod, and reached behind his clean glass countertop. He pulled out a small watch that had analogue hands. It was a pocket watch that shined beautifully with its gold color. The slender, black fingers on the clock were classy. Jeff looked and looked, but couldn’t find a brand name on it. He saw a small inscription that read ‘TGW’ on the back plate. “What do these letters mean?”

  Steve pulled up his shoulders into a shrug. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing it may be the name of the person who owned it.”

  “You mean, you don’t know the owner of the watch?”

  He strongly shook his head from right to left. “That’s the funny part of the story. I found it in my Post Office box in an envelope. It had no return address on it.”

  Jeff bit his top lip and gave the watch a final look. He pulled up his head to make direct eye contact with Steve. “How much do you want for it?”

  He moved his hand in the direction of the watch, and pointed at it as he was talking. “The watch itself isn’t in bad shape. It doesn’t have any major damage to it – just some small scratches. That being said, it also doesn’t have anything valuable. It has no gold, no diamonds, no precious stones, or really anything remarkable. You can have it for $30”.

  One of Jeff’s most valuable traits is that he’s a penny pincher who rarely pays asking price for anything. It was something that his now-deceased father taught him. When he was a child, he asked his father why a lower price wasn’t negotiated at the supermarket. “I’ll give you $20 for it.”

  As usual, the bargaining talk commenced between them. “$27, and that will get you a nice smile from me” winked Steve.

  “$25, and that will get me back in here to buy more stuff from you in the future”. It was a hollow threat because he knew that he couldn’t resist future clocks and watches.

  “Done!” he jabbed out his right arm to shake hands with Jeff. The energetic and fun-loving handshake commenced, and Steve quickly brought the watch to the cash register.

  Jeff watched him wrap it up, and kept his eyes focused on his new treasure – the broken watch. He has always been a master craftsman, and had confidence that he would repair it. In time, he would have yet another treasured timepiece.

  The two of them swapped cash for the watch. Jeff grinned because he knew he made out well. He got a brand new watch, from just one quarter of his hourly salary. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll see you next time.”

  After a casual walk for a few blocks, he went underground and into the subway. He squeezed into the train and stood in place. That was about all he had room for because the train was packed.

  Within twenty minutes, he was walking in the door of his colonial home. He greeted his pretty, librarian wife. She was the type of woman who was quiet and mysterious. She only rarely revealed what she was thinking, but thought quite a bit. She read a lot, too. That made sense since she was a part-time novelist. “Hi baby. How’s my hot muffin of love?”

  She turned her body around to see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled up at him and winked. She spoke no words, but spoke volumes with her smile and wink. She blew him a kiss and just stared at him.

  He walked over to her and playfully grasped her from behind. Holding her in place, he playfully started kissing her neck. “So, you’re not going to talk, huh? I know how to get you to make noise.”

  She giggled and moaned softly, as she both hated and loved being kissed on the neck. She loved it because it felt really good, but hated it because it tickled like crazy. “Okay, I’ll talk. We’re having linguini with clam sauce. Also, I’ve got cannoli for desert.”

  He turned her around and wrapped his lower arms around her neck. God Almighty, she was beautiful. Her eyes were a soft blue that reminded him of a calm sky. Her eyebrows were plucked and waxed and looked evenly proportionate. Her long, brown hair was well-washed and highlighted with a slightly, lighter brown. Her skin was soft with few wrinkles. The only flaw she had was a small scar on her lower neck – from a tracheotomy she had many years ago. “That sounds wonderful. When will dinner be done?”

  She loved to be held and caressed, so she refused to keep him at distance. She pulled him close and held him in place. She traced the soft palms of her hands over his back, to give him a loving rub. “About ten minutes”.

 
; He pulled her away from him just a little bit and kissed her gently on the lips. “Good. I bought a watch and I just need to tinker with it, to get it working. I’ll be right back.”

  Since she loves her husband so much, and wanted him to stay, she threw out a “but…” But, it was too late. He was already on his way downstairs.

  He put the watch onto his workbench and examined it under a large, desktop microscope. Not moving his eyes from the watch, he reached into a small plastic toolbox and fumbled his hands around as he searched for a watch case opener.

  He had a moment of frustration because he couldn’t find it. He veered his eyes away from the watch and spotted the case opening tool. “There you are!” he pulled it out of the toolbox.

  Setting his eyes back on the watch, he slowly and carefully clicked the tool into place. He gave a firm pull back and the cover popped off. Giving it a brief inspection, he didn’t see anything unusual about it. It was just a watch case. Nothing special.

  To the contrary, the inside of the watch was very unique. Instead of finding a circular divot for a watch battery – which is most common with watches – he found a triangular divot. He pushed out a loud hum and stared in surprise. “That’s odd. I’ve never seen a triangular battery before.”

  Pausing and clicking his fingers on the work desk, he wondered what to do next. A triangular battery, really? He pondered and considered, then thought of alternative ways to make the watch work.

  He thought of a complicated, longshot possibility that might get the watch to work. He always speaks to himself, as he did in this case. “The triangle opening is large. I can jam a circular, nickel cadmium battery in the opening. Then there will be open spaces. I will fill those spaces with shards of copper – which conducts electricity well. The watch, thereafter, will be getting an electrical current to make it work.”

  He’s a man of confidence who almost always found a way forward. Still, the solution sounded very half-ass. Nailing a circular object into a triangle? It didn’t sound much better than putting a square peg into a round hole. He went back and forth between optimism and doubt.

  He figured he would put the rubber to the road and give it a try. He carefully opened a trinket box and painstakingly pinched a small, circular watch battery between his thumb and index finger. Moving his hand slowly, he placed it into the back of the watch and firmly pressed it into place. It made a very quiet click.

  In satisfaction, he moved his face away from the microscope and rubbed his eyes to give them a quick break. He knew what time it was because of the eighteen clocks he had in the room – 5:45 p.m. He carefully turned the watch over and synchronized the time to what the other eighteen clocks said.

  He let out a yawn while he was flipping the watch back over. It was a long day, and he was tired. He still wasn’t tired enough to quit fixing the watch – hell no. He plopped copper firmly into the three triangular gaps.

  All of the sudden, a zooming sound, followed by a zap came out of nowhere. Within just two seconds, a new environment was born. An accurate description of the place could easily be called ‘Slum City, USA’. There are two abandoned cars in the area – one of which was obviously burned from the inside out. Also present are two large, multi-storied buildings that had plywood boarding them up. The road is littered with potholes, and garbage decorates the street.

  “What the hell?” he closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Reopening his eyes, the same desolate environment remains.

  “Don’t move, or I’ll blow your brains out!”

  The voice projected from his rear, and he didn’t know who was saying it. Even though he couldn’t see who it was, he obeyed and stood still. “Okay. I won’t move.”

  He kept his composure still and tense. His heart was racing, as was his mind. A few more seconds passed, and he felt a hand reaching into his rear, and then front pockets. The thief retrieved the entirety of his wallet, phone and money. “Slowly turn around.”

  Making several half-steps, he pivoted and swallowed deeply. The thief didn’t look much like a thief. Not at all. He was wearing khaki pants, a button up shirt, and brown loafers. It was odd, to say the least. He looked fairly young – maybe mid 30’s. The real sore thumb was that he had a tattoo on his face that contained an Eagle with one large wing, and two heads. “Give me your watch”.

  Truth be told, Jeff didn’t think very much about whether he should give it away. He was, after all, being held at gunpoint. In retrospect, if he had a second chance about whether to hand it over, he would have rather been shot. Alas, he only had one chance, though.

  He thrust out his right hand, and gently threw the watch to the ground. The thief cocked his head and grunted with satisfaction. It sure was a good day for him. He had snatched $200, a watch, a cellphone, and an entire wallet.

  Much like Jennifer, Jeff’s beautiful wife, the thief was a man of few words. “Um, thank you”.

  That was it. He took off running with a surprisingly fast speed – for a formally dressed guy who was in loafers.

  Jeff took a deep breath and then instinct took over. He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked for his cellphone. After the frantic search, he then remembered that the thief took off with it. He let out a grunt and moaned in displeasure. “Shoot. I’ve got no money, no phone, no identification, and I have no idea where I am. Not a good combination.

  Although he had yet to realize it, the worst loss was his beautiful and loving wife. She was the alpha and omega for Jeff. When he had a hard day at work, he could return home and get her warm physical and emotional embrace. Her soft skin, mellow temperament, and plain old love always quieted him. It was like she was a goddess who programmed his neurons, and made him feel like a prince.

  Chapter 2

  “I told you who I am. Why don’t you believe me?” he angrily pointed his index finger at the police officer.

  The officer bit his bottom lip and made a clicking sound with his mouth. “Sir, something isn’t adding up. Your bio DNA scan is showing that you’re legally dead. I made a few phone calls, and determined that you are not listed as being physically dead. Where have you been all this time?”

  Jeff momentarily grunted while keeping his mouth closed. He curiously looked over at a large machine in which people were stepping into. It was doing whole body scans with beams of blue light. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  The officer leaned back in his chair and softly rubbed his thumbs together. “Well, I’ve been doing this a long time and I’ve probably seen a lot of things that you couldn’t believe. Try me.”

  The scanning machine made a soft beep, and another person stepped into it slowly. As Jeff thought about strategy, he didn’t see much of an advantage to telling the truth. He lied. He lied big. “I had an affair many years ago and I’ve been secretly living in a foreign country with her.”

  “Uh huh. I won’t pass judgement on you. Let’s move the conversation over to you getting robbed. Tell me what happened.”

  Jeff took a deep breath, then strongly exhaled. “Alright, I was outside and pretty much minding my own business. I had my personal belongings with me – my wallet, phone, money, and a watch. I immediately heard a voice from a guy who threatened to shoot me if I moved. He then stole my stuff, and promptly ran off.”

  The officer had a shiny, brass badge that read ‘Lt. Dukes’. He clicked out his pen and started taking some notes. “What did he look like?”

  “He had khakis, a button-up shirt, and brown loafers. He looked like he was in his early to mid- thirties. He was scary as hell, but he wasn’t much of a talker. He just made his demands and I obeyed. What else could I do? He had a gun.”

  Dukes slowly nodded and continued taking notes. “Did he assault you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Was anyone with him?”

  Jeff had a chime in his head that went ‘ding!’ “Oh yeah, he also had a tattoo that had a large eagle, but the eagle had two heads.”

  Dukes’ hand stopped tak
ing notes. He looked right into Jeff’s eyes and slowly eked out one more question. “Was he African American?”

  “Yup.”

  The officer sighed and put the pen back in his desk. He put the notebook aside. It was obvious that he was wrapping up the chat. Jeff couldn’t understand why. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

  Dukes tilted his head slightly to the left and gave his ear a little scratch. “Our Afro Arrest Quota has already been met for the year.”

  Jeff sprung up his palms and pointed them toward the ceiling as he shrugged. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Dukes let out a scoff, and then quietly laughed. “Wow, I can tell you’ve been gone for a while” he mumbled as he leaned back in his chair. “Okay, so a decade ago, we had a very liberal congress who got sick of African Americans getting arrested at disproportionate rates. They passed a law that limits how many African Americans we can arrest. They said they wanted to keep things proportionate. For this year, we’ve already reached our limit. We can’t arrest any more African Americans until next year.”

  Jeff mildly shook his head in disbelief and blinked his eyes rapidly. “So, this guy gets away with it?”

  “Only temporarily – until next year. There are exceptions to the law, of course. If we recovered the gun, we can prove he used it and then prosecute him. We don’t have that. He threatened to shoot you, that’s protected free speech. We’ve got no witnesses that could corroborate your story that he used a weapon. We’ve got no DNA, no photos, and no activity from your cards. Not surprising since they expired many years ago and are closed. Even if we knew who he was – which we don’t – we don’t have the grounds to prosecute. We’re spent.”

  Jeff just sat there and tried to soak in what Dukes was telling him. “I need a place to stay. Is there a shelter around?”