Hey kids, as most of you should know by now, today I'm leaving for my vacation in Toronto! Whooo-Hooo! (
and if you didn't know, why the hell haven't you been paying attention?) I'll still be posting the Shirtlessness du jour each day, and the daily features as well (
Frenching Fridays, Secret Saturdays, etc). But to ensure you don't get bored, I've enlisted the aid of a few good online friends to do guest posts. I should have enough to cover every day that I'm gone.
First up, we have from stage, fashion show, and Columbus Ohio, Dave S.! (
and yeah, the book cover IS a Dave S. original! He's SO talented.)
PUNTABULOUS, the novelCHAPTER 1
The doorbell rang right on cue. Craig had just pulled on his new red shirt that Tam had given him and was inspecting his tall frame in the mirror in the downstairs bathroom. Not that he cared about what he looked like for this particular unannounced visitor. Craig knew who it was at the door. Craig knew a lot of things.
The bell chimed again and with a sigh Craig slowly walked up the short flight of carpeted stairs and opened the door with a hint of disgust.
“What?” Craig tinted the word with a mix of sarcasm and annoyance.
The man standing at the door was short, middle-aged, and a bit stocky. He wore an Armani suit that may have fit him sometime in the 90’s, but now puckered in unflattering places.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Craig rolled his eyes. “And why would I do that?”
“Because the organization needs you, McAnally.”
“I don’t work for you or the organization anymore, Walsh. Not since Avitable.”
The man sighed with a bit of frustration. “What happened with Avitable was…unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” Craig repeated incredulously. “What you forced him to do for that undercover job was fucked up and inexcusable.”
“Look, waxing was necessary. He –”
Craig interrupted. “I think we’re done here.”
He pushed the door shut, but Walsh’s hand stopped the swing just before in clicked into the lock.
“Polt’s in trouble.”
Craig quickly pulled the door back open, frowning. This was something he didn’t know. And he didn’t like not knowing. He didn’t like it at all.
"What?” he said, even though he’d heard Walsh’s every word.
"The Jersey syndicate found out about Polt’s…activities.” He paused, letting out a sigh. “He’s missing.”
Dammit. Craig thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe he’s gone underground.”
“That would make sense, but the fact that you don’t know that tells me he hasn’t.”
Shit. Walsh was right. If Polt had fled underground, Mark would’ve known and fed that back to Craig. And Mark hadn’t mentioned it in his check-in this morning. Fuck.
Craig rubbed his temples, thinking.
“Fine,” he said, giving in. “What do you want me to do?”
“We need to find Polt and make sure he’s okay – as you know, he’s valuable to the organization.” And to Puntabulous, Craig almost added, but kept his mouth shut. The less Walsh knew, the better.
Walsh continued. “We can take it from there.”
Craig didn’t like the sound of that, but gave no indication. He nodded affirmatively. “And?”
“That’s it.” Walsh reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s all the information we have on the Jersey syndicate as well as the last known whereabouts of Polt.”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t need it.”
Walsh paused, then smiled foolishly. “Of course you don’t.” He tucked the envelope back in his jacket and when he looked up, the door had shut, the snickt of the lock ending their conversation.
Walsh smiled. Bingo.
Craig bounded down the stairs, already on his iPhone, wondering if she was able to answer, being midday.
Click. “Hello.”
“Amanda. We’ve got a situation.”
“I can be there in ten. How serious?”
Craig swung into his room, immediately pushing on an 8x10 of Natalie Portman.
“Serious enough. I’m firing up B3. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
The bed in his room folded up and out, revealing a moderately sophisticated computer system, dual monitors already gleaming bright. Craig pulled the swivel chair over from his desk across the room as he snatched a headset from its stand and put it on, bending the attached mic closer to his mouth.
First order of business was damage control with Mama Polt. If she knew her son was missing, she’d be terrified. Craig wouldn’t have that. He fired up the connection to the person that he knew could handle it. As he spoke into the headset, the computer typed the words onto the screen, communicating the message via text.
“Michelle M., I need you to run interference with Mama Polt. Polt’s on an…unexpected vacation. I don’t want her to worry. I’ll fill you in on details later.”
Nearly instantly, a message was sent back. “Should I make it Columbus?”
Craig thought for a moment. “No, I might need Dave S. for something else. Make it Toronto. Contact Tam, have her in-line for story backup.”
“Got it,” Michelle messaged. “Should I worry?”
“Probably. But not yet.”
Amanda opened the door and swung into the room. “What’s the scoop?”
“That was quick,” Craig said, only partially glancing at his sister as he punched at his keyboard.
“Tell me what you need me to do,” she said, looking over his shoulder at the monitor, recognizing the information displayed there. “Damn. The Jersey syndicate?”
Craig nodded, still tapping away. “Yeah, I think they took Polt.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Amanda asked a bit surprised.
“No, I don’t.” There was a glitch in his information. It wasn’t like Craig to not be in the know and that could only mean one thing. He paused his typing as he thought of the gravity of it.
There was a mole within Puntabulous.
to be continued…
