Alpha's Irresistible Neighbor
By: J.P. Comeau
1
Thomas
Two Months Ago
“We interrupt your local newscast to bring you national breaking news.”
My head whipped toward the television as I grabbed a handful of chips. I shoved them into my mouth as I vaulted over the kitchen table, rushing toward the couch that I had scooted right in front of the television screen. For a man like myself, breaking news was my drug of choice. Every morning, I had forty-two small-town newspapers delivered to my doorstep in order to keep up with current events. I subscribed to every electronic national news syndicate that still sent out weekly—and monthly—“newspapers.”
And as I plopped down into the couch, I dusted my Cheeto fingers off on my pants.
Breaking News out of North Carolina, Gunter Scofield has been arrested, and the manhunt is over. Let’s take this story to Ted Mickleburg, who was right in the thick of it yesterday. Ted?”
“The man looks like a turtle-necked leech,” I murmured to myself.
“Thank you, and good morning, Peachland! If you’ve been driving through the downtown area as of late, you’ve probably seen the police presence and the caution tape around one of our best and brightest establishments! That’s because at high noon yesterday, right here at this wrought iron table, Gunther Scofield was arrested after sitting down to have lunch with someone who sources tell me is his biological daughter.”
“That’s new,” I murmured.
“Mr. Scofield!” the beady-eyed man exclaimed as the running cameraman steadied the feed on Gunther’s face. “Mr. Scofield, a word?”
Oh, ho, ho. Gunther’s red face told me how absolutely irate he had become. “What the “bleep’ do you want?”
I chuckled. “So good. I love it when they get angry.”
The Ted guy shoved his microphone into the Gunther’s face. “Is there anything you want to say to your daughter right now?”
That asshole looked directly into the camera before shaking his head. Of course, he wouldn’t have anything to say to her. None of this had been about her in the first place.
“Well,” the news anchor said, “if you don’t want to speak to your daughter, is there anything you wish to tell the general public?”
And in that moment, Gunther looked directly into the camera. The anger on his face quickly faded, almost as if he’d never been angry in the first place. And as his lips crooked themselves into a bastardly grin. I found myself holding my breath.
“Don’t do it,” I whispered.
“Have you figured it out yet, Mr. Johnston?”
I threw my hands into the air. “God damn it, he did it.”
“Mr. Johnston? Do you mean Mikael? The man you framed?” Ted asked.
Gunther peered over his shoulder at the police officers behind him. “I’m ready now.”
“Wait a second,” Ted said as he continued to poke and prod at the suited man, “what does your message mean? What do you need Mr. Johnston to know?”
“That’s enough,” the Chief of Police told him as he shoved the Gunther into the back of the cruiser, “no more questions.”
“And there you have it, folks,” Ted said as he turned back toward the camera, “hopefully Mr. Johnston knows what we don’t. Because it seems pretty important. Back to you, Gloria.”
I didn’t even get the god damn remote control in my hand before my phone started ringing out. I knew good and well who it was, too. I sighed as I turned off the television, and for the smallest of seconds I thought about letting his call go to voicemail.
But, if I did that, I knew he’d simply keep calling until I picked up.
“At least he’s a good paycheck,” I murmured as I reached for my phone.
And when I picked it up, I didn’t even have to look at the screen to confirm who was calling.
“You all right, Mikael?” I asked.
“What in the absolute hell was that?” he hissed into his end of the line.
I put him on speaker and placed my phone on my Cheeto-laced chest. “He’s taunting you. He knows the attention on him is almost over, and he wants to keep dragging you along for the ride. It’s what gets him off.”
