Thursday, December 31, 2015

Might as Well Get ‘Em Laid (Happy New Year!)

After slogging for so long at this chapter on my work in progress, The Wrong Kind of Dead, I had to end it thus. Goddamn it, we earned this. Happy New Year!
We see Dr. Hearn again shortly after landing, and we’re there long enough for him to tell us that Marcus will pick us up at the hotel at 7:30 tomorrow morning. “No helicopters this time,” he says. “You’ll simply drive into the office. I’ll make sure you get out in time to do some house and auto hunting. Again, remember to be discreet. Don’t throw your money around.”
Marcus takes us to the bank, and it’s as simple as having our fingerprints and retinas scanned. “Congratulations. All transactions are handled online via secure connection on your phone. Look right into the camera for verification.” That’s it. I see one large deposit in our joint account, large enough it might be for two people, but I work directly for the Surgeon General, after all.
I cut my phone off. I don’t want to be tempted to gawp at it any more than I already have. After being in and out of the workforce for so many years, I’m finally making “real” money. Ah, Claire, that you could not live to see me pull such numbers. It took a fucking apocalypse to finally put me over the top.
Marcus drives us back to the hotel, where Agnes and I enjoy a late lunch in a nearly empty building. We go upstairs to our room to find the laundry from last night has arrived. The keys to Elyssa’s SUV are also on the bed. I lay out a pair of jeans and a shirt for later and change into the hotel pajamas.
“What do you think you’re doing?” says Agnes.
“We have no children or extended family members to worry about for another three hours. I don’t know when we’ll ever see such an opportunity again, so I feel obliged to make the most of it.”
“What I meant, bonehead, is why are you wearing pajamas? Most people do it naked.”
Agnes crawls towards me across the bed, smiling like she knows she’s getting away with something. Holy hell, we were already grinding away in the shower like teenagers in heat this morning. It looks like Mr. and Mrs. Grace are officially on honeymoon. 
Dr. Hearn was right. It is a good day.

Chicka-chicka-bow-wow. May you have the very best year yet. (“Maybe I’ll get more than I deserve.”)
“It’s in the trees! It’s COMING!”

(Psst...wanna read the chapters that lead up to this? ‘Course you do.  I’ve got some books here.)