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03
Point of view — Robert Johnson
An invitation to the biggest award show in the city? The Writhe of Writers Awards? No way. Impossible. Even literarily. But the invitation note staring up at me said otherwise. I had to unread, read and re-read the entire invitation letter again. How in God’s green earth did an invitation, accorded to my name, end up outside my doorstep? The only rational explanation I could think of was that it was a mistake. Yes. An invitation letter to the award show which certainly had a post card to this building — where an actual personnel is supposed to be in attendance — was mistakenly dropped on my doorstep. I have seen the post man go from door to door to drop mails on residents doorstep. What I you couldn’t phantom was the fact that my name, correctly spelt and boldly written was accorded to me. So, in the spirit of rational thinking, I had to admit that invitation was for me.Still wondering, staring at the letter, I walked in to the kitchen which adjRelated chapters
Wrenched 04
“Sixty two, Sixty three, Sixty four. . . Eighty seven, Eighty eight, Eighty nine, and Ninety.” I heard a man scream from inside when they counted a Ninety dollars. I mean, Ninety thousand dollars. I heard the sound of hands clasping together in a handshake, chuckles and laughter. Who wouldn’t be happy to be counting Ninety thousand dollars? Although, off the top of my head, I knew all that money was not a hundred percent acquired through legal means. Did I say a hundred? I meant one percent. And this was unarguable. Why was I so sure of this?First off, they were a gang. About two cars; a black Audi and an equally black Range Rover rounded the fuel station and parked just outside the store beside the fuel station. A couple of well built men hopped out of the Audi, then from the Range Rover, a man who looked to be in his mid fifties and a younger guy who wasn’t as built as the others but muscular enough to definitely take me on. That said, yes I was quite built; broad should
Wrenched 05
A race? Win a race? I came last when I did a relay at my high school. Though I wouldn’t fault me; I was paired with turtles in a human form.“I bet a lot on this race. I still think it was stupid. But ego, frustration and desperation together can make you do stupid things. Don’t you think Jack?”I rubbed my sore wrists. “It’s James.” And yes, desperation makes people do stupid things. I was such a perfect example at the moment.“Ahh James. Cutter is it?”At least he got my surname right. I nodded.“Don McGowan.” He extended his arms.Considering he just threatened to take out my eye balls if I don’t win whatever this race is, I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with this introduction. Though I placed my hands in his and we shook briefly.On the other hand, the name sounded very familiar. I wondered where I had heard it before.“About this race. . .” I called out to him as he had turned his back to me and was walking away.“I mean, I don’t re
Wrenched 06
Point of view — James CutterI ran out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around my waist. That is after screaming for someone to get the damn phone. And before realizing that no one was home. I had dropped off my mother at the hospital for her usual check up and my half brother, Simon Tunes, was out. As always.I used my had to wipe off the soap on my face but it was a miserable effort. Rather, some of it got into my eye. At least I made it to the living room before the phone stopped ringing.“Cutter's residence.” And Tunes'. If anyone is stupid enough to look for him.“You got the poop?”“The what?” My brows knitted in confusion.“Thought you said you were going to get some shit.”I palmed my face. “I didn’t mean literal shit. I meant sheet. Sheet! As in the contract sheet. I’ve got no business with manure. I am the middleman, remember?”“Right. I would never understand that job.”Of course I knew who was speaking.
Wrenched 07
Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us an invite to the Writhe of Writers Awards show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room with the biggest writers and Publicists in the city, and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were both something in between raggedy and well enough; those weren’t good enough for the award showI sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of documents for my new colleagues.
Wrenched 08
Point of view: Robert JohnsonAfter a very long day at work, I called it a day around 5:30pm in order to have more time to draft the presentation. I had used lunch hour and a few minutes in between work to think over the idea. I really wanted her to see it as worthy, and like she said, pick a thing or two. Or the entire proposed idea. I laughed at the thought. The former would mean a lot to me but it didn’t stop me from working towards the latter. I loved to have an impact wherever I go. It had become a habit, so to say. Whether I would be here for three months, more or less, if I could help Stone’s Industry, why the hell wouldn’t I give it a shot, as always.Something definitely had to waste my time; the frigging subway I had boarded broke down half way through the journey. So, I was stuck on the dark and hot train for over fifteen minutes before maintenance could get it working. It wasn’t all that bad, honestly speaking. I mean some of the passengers in the subway took
Wrenched 09
Point of view – James I watched as my mother poured the half cooked pasta into the tomato sauce and stirred it. For every single move she took, I watched her like a hawk, even when I knew that sometimes, it made her uncomfortable. But I wasn’t going to risk anything happening to her at this stage considering easy bruising and weakness were pretty common for her condition. She was diagnosed with leukemia last year, and until yesterday, it hadn’t seem like much of a big deal to anybody else other than me. From the first minute I found out that she had leukemia, I had been worried sick, and I have been living like that since then. The results of her check up weren’t fantastic. Doctor Stewart said she might be inching closer to surgery as her condition was getting even serious. I hadn’t raised nearly enough for the surgery because I still had to buy those drugs necessary for her sustenance which by the way, were very expensive. Her situation had been manageable, and still
Wrenched 10
Point of view — Robert JohnsonThat explained everything. It was not a mistake after all. It was James who. . . somehow, managed to get us an invite to the Writhe of Writers Awards show. It was beyond elating to know that I would be in the same room with the biggest writers and Publicists in the city, and states beyond. And of course if we want to fit in, we must also look the part. Which would mean getting a new suit for the occasion. I had only two suits and they were both something in between raggedy and well enough; those weren’t good enough for the award showI sighed. As James would say, “a small price to pay for salvation.” I made a mental note to contact the seamstress in the weekend. But for now, I had to get ready for the first day at my new job. First official day, I mean. Other than the very unnecessary physical interview and the tour around the office, I had very little work to do yesterday. And that work was only to make copies of docu
Wrenched 11
“Sixty two, Sixty three, Sixty four. . . Eighty seven, Eighty eight, Eighty nine, and Ninety.” I heard a man scream from inside when they counted a Ninety dollars. I mean, Ninety thousand dollars. I heard the sound of hands clasping together in a handshake, chuckles and laughter. Who wouldn’t be happy to be counting Ninety thousand dollars? Although, off the top of my head, I knew all that money was not a hundred percent acquired through legal means. Did I say a hundred? I meant one percent. And this was unarguable. Why was I so sure of this?First off, they were a gang. About two cars; a black Audi and an equally black Range Rover rounded the fuel station and parked just outside the store beside the fuel station. A couple of well built men hopped out of the Audi, then from the Range Rover, a man who looked to be in his mid fifties and a younger guy who wasn’t as built as the others but muscular enough to definitely take me on. That said, yes I was
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