A Hell of a Woman. Ron Boone's Hummer
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younger than me. Really hot. At least I had sex with her...”
“You know, the red headed man said from the pool table, I have had just about enough of your pathetic stories. How about shutting up already.” He shot the 9 ball in the right hand corner pocket.
Devlin glared at the man with the red hair, took another sip of his drink, drained it before putting it back on the bar. “Well excuse me.”
The red headed man slammed his pool cue on the table, slapping the other balls around. He was taller than Devlin, his body built like a football player, his face had a small beard that circled around his mouth. “You need to leave now.”
Devlin’s mouth formed the letter “o” on his lips. “Who are you, the owner?”
“Just listen to the man,” the bartender pleaded.
Devlin got off his stool, returned the man’s stare. “No.”
The red headed man swung a right, hitting Devlin in the stomach. As Devlin fell to his knees, the man hit him with a right to his nose. Blood spurted from Devlin’s nose as he fell to the ground.
“I’ll take care of him Kenny,” a bouncer with red hair said from the door.
“Good. You do that, Wes.”
Wes helped Devlin up, then walked him to the door. The music of Panama Red from Riders of the Purple Sage faded. “Consider yourself lucky,” Wes said as he opened the door, then threw Devlin out into the rain.
Devlin got up, felt the rain hit him on his face, saw dirt on his hands. “That’s just great. This is the first time I get thrown out of a bar. All on a count of that bitch. She can go to hell.”
Devlin walked over to his navy blue Buick, opened his door and fell into the seat. The rain sounded like pebbles hitting his window as he closed the door. He felt the vibration from his cellphone in his shirt pocket. He grabbed the phone, saw that it was a message from her, shook his head. He put the phone to his ear after hitting the ok button and listened to the message.
“Hi, it’s me, Kimmy. I really wasn’t feeling well and I just woke up. I overslept. God, you must hate me.” She giggled. “I worked late last night and I guess I was more tired than I thought.” More giggling. “Look, let’s get together on Saturday at Grizzlies. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’m really sorry.”
“Bitch,” Mike muttered. “Fat chance. I don’t care if you come over again and we have sex. We’re done.” He felt the blood trickle on his mouth from his nose. “Lucky if my nose isn’t broken.” He put the key to the engine, started the car, then put his wipers on. He listened to his tires screech in the dirt as he turned left onto to Burrow Street towards Interstate 95.
Mike’s thoughts turned to when he first met Kim Hunter while he was on line at Dominos Pizza. She said that she was hiding out from her boyfriend. They were on a date at a movie and he got into a fight because he thought some guy was looking at her and he didn’t like it. He could understand that. His excitement only increased when he sat with her and she told him that she preferred older men because they were more mature.
He turned on to the Interstate, feeling the buzz from the four jack and coke’s after he waited over an hour for her to arrive at Grizzlies. He looked at the dashboard and saw that it was 10:45.
The rain seemed to let up and there wasn’t much traffic, only a red Monza and a blue Toyota in front of him. He watched as a burned cigarette was thrown from the window of the Toyota.
Suddenly he heard the roar of an engine and someone hit him in the back of his car. The jolt drove him forward and he said “What the hell.”
He felt the jolt again as the car hit him again in the back, the sickening thud of metal hitting metal. Mike put his foot to the accelerator, sped up, looked at his mirror. The driver shined his brights, making it impossible to see as the other car picked up speed and pulled into the center lane.
Mike yelled “What the hell is the matter with you?” as the driver slammed into the side of his car. He gripped his wheel tighter, his tires screeched.
He looked ahead, saw the green sign that said Fox Chase, 4 miles. The car slammed into him again, trapping him against the gray railing. Sparks flew from the side of his car, his tires screeched again.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he yelled as the rail gave way. The car flew in the air, hitting the ditch head first, then the car overturned before catching fire and exploding.
Chapter 1
July 24, 2010
The Present
Don Gunn watched as Bob Nelson stared at his computer behind his mahogany desk, pressing his lips together several times.
“You signed this non-compete contract about 6 years ago?” Nelson asked. His voice was high pitched, thin.
“That’s right.”
Nelson was in his 40’s, nearly Gunn’s age, his sandy hair was parted in a three quarter inch part to his left, displaying the whiteness of his scalp. There was a trace of a five o’clock shadow that started to appear on his face and chin. His eyes seemed to squint through his sliver rimmed glasses.
“I guess a lot has changed at your agency since then.”
“You can say that again.”
“Now it’s Blake and Yurman Advertising and Public Relations.”
“Yes, they started getting into PR about 5 years ago.”
“So you realize you can’t work in a public relations firm for 2 years if you’re terminated?”
Gunn took a sip of his coffee from his paper cup. “Yes.”
“Let’s see,” he said, staring at the computer. “They do television ads, radio ads, brochures, recruitment ads, and outdoor ads.”
“I’m aware of that,” Gunn said indignantly.
“Then you’re aware that you can’t work for an agency that provides any of these services for 2 years even if you are terminated.”
Gunn rolled his eyes, not liking the word terminated.
“You should have talked to a lawyer before you signed this contract especially since you’re an at will employee, meaning you can be fired at any time for any reason.”
“I did. I mean, even if he made any changes, my agency wouldn’t have accepted it. Right?”
“True.”
“And it’s not like other agencies don’t have this contract.”
“True. It’s standard in a lot of industries.”
“Look, you think I like flying down to Miami to see you even though I live in Philadelphia.”
“The headquarters of Blake and Yurman is in Miami. The contract was executed by their lawyer in Florida.”
“I know. I have to hire a lawyer in Miami in case I’m laid off and want to fight to get out of my non-compete.”
The lawyer took a sip of his coffee from his blue mug. “Look, I mentioned over the phone that there may not be much I could do.”
“I understand that.”
He leaned back in his black swivel chair. “These contracts. They’re like a form letter that the lawyer filled out. They’re always air tight.”
“You know that they’re having layoffs in my firm. About 6 months ago, my boss was fired.”
“I understand.”
“There’s nothing I can do other than look for a job in another industry.”
“The contract is clear. You can’t work for a company that has a competing product