Brian pushed against the large revolving doors, his laptop case slung over one shoulder. Coming out the other side, he thought the building was even quieter and emptier than normal. The tiny shops on either side of the wide concourse were closed, as was always the case at seven thirty in the morning. Ahead, the escalator hummed as one unused step after other rose to the second floor.
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Andrew Weston was not a man to trifle with. Neither was Alison: his stepdaughter. It was as if they had been fashioned from the same cloth and they understood each other perfectly: often trying to outmaneuver each other in a game of one-upmanship. Both were self assured and attractive to look at.
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Monday was cool and sunny, with a slight breeze that carried the scent and promise of early autumn. Jack Williams eased his 73-year-old body down on his accustomed bench in the small park downtown and opened his book. He liked this spot under a big oak tree whose leaves had just begun to show signs of changing color. The fresh air was nice and it was shady and cool during the summer. In the spring and autumn the sun angle was just right to give a little warmth.
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First off, it's not as bad as it sounds, really. I'm her step-father, and not her real dad. But in the end it's just an excuse. I mean, I raised her through her teen years and saw her off to college, so I guess, unless she really thought her deadbeat dad was a father to her, I was it.
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"Hi ya," I jumped at the unexpected voice and fought not to drop the drink I was holding.
"What the fuck!" I gasped. Just as I lost my fight, and watched as my beer spilled out on the lawn. I glanced towards where the voice had come from, the next door neighbours garden. What I saw increased my shock immensely. Standing in the garden, now laughing softly at me, was a stunning blonde haired young woman. She was wearing just a small red thong and nothing else, which gave me a good look at her body.
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Chapter One: Never heard of such a thing.
Some people have more money than brains, I figured, after listening to the explanation my pain-in-the-ass neighbor Bob Brennan gave me regarding his upcoming cruise. We were talking over the fence, as was our custom, and since he had handed me a frosty Sam Adams, it made the conversation more tolerable. I still thought the idea was goofy though.
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Until my Granddad passed away last year I had been going to see him quite regularly since he moved into a retirement village a few years ago. It isn't like an old peoples home where everyone looks like they have already passed onto the next life, it is a community of decent homes where elderly people are among others like themselves. It isn't a cheap place to retire to, most of the residents are quite wealthy, but they have taken the decision to let someone else look after their needs.
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For three years since my wife died, I've tried to put a new life together in the more modern day-to-day world around me. My grown kids come to me for money and hint that they want their inheritance early. The women that I pick to date are either pushy or nuts. I don't understand what our leaders are doing to our economy and I am starting to drink and eat too much - time for me to regroup, decide to live alone and work. I'm good at work. I write for a successful living, can build houses and I am a good gardener.
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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot."
I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer."
He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.
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It had been a long day, and all Jim Reynolds wanted to think about was taking in an evening run and enjoying a quiet Friday night at home. He had a full weekend planned ahead of him, finishing up the renovation work on his latest real estate investment. Running and working was his way of staving off depression. Since his divorce five years ago, he had been buying older homes, living in them while he updated them, and then selling them. If you didn't mind living in substandard conditions for a while, it was a good way to make a tidy profit outside regular work, and keep your mind off growing old alone.
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