The Black Feather Continued…
Chapter 2
O.D. Hall
Allen looked at his watch. "8:35 am" it read. His calendar had July third crossed out and the fourth highlighted. Allen didn't know if what had happened was all a nightmare, or reality. Had he really killed his own father? The whole scene seemed foggy and he seemed to forget most of what happened.
One way or another, it was July 4th and the Fourth of July Party was tonight, and Allen had a date. He then wondered if that too was a dream, or reality. Did he have a date with that girl; Samantha was it? He didn't remember. That was when his phone rang.
His caller ID labeled Watson as the caller. Allen picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello? This is Allen Michaels." He recited.
"Allen! Hey it's Will, glad to hear that you're up. Hey are you still on for tonight?"
Allen rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I don't know, Will I had a really weird," …
"Samantha will be disappointed you know." Will replied.
Allen nodded though he knew Will couldn't see that type of answer. "Yeah, I'll be there. It starts a six right?" he asked.
"Yep," came the reply, "and I just e-mailed you her address and phone number buddy. Give her a call."
Allen smiled, "Alright I will. Thanks Will, and by the way, don't call my number ever again."
Will laughed. "Don't worry," he said still laughing, "You'll never hear from me on the phone again."
Will hung up and the dial tone echoed into Allen's ear. He decided he'd wait until noon to give Samantha a call and checked his e-mail on his laptop.
He had two e-mails in his inbox that morning. One was from William and the other was from More curious than shocked, Allen opened the e-mail from Will first, suspecting his computer would crash if he opened the message from Larrice.
"Wait." He thought. "Was all that before, real?"
He wrote down Samantha's information and then clicked Larrice's e-mail. It read:
"To Allen Michaels,
Congratulations! You have made it passed the dream test. Everything that occurred yesterday between 4pm and right before 9pm was a dream induced by the fumes from your computer that crashed. Do not worry; I would not dream of doing such things to your home computer. That's just plain rude. Instead, I wish to assure you that it was not you that killed your father but a man was hired to kill your father, a man who was paid 5.6 million dollars to do the job. If you wish to know more, meet me at 4pm in the Roses Café on the corner of Galloway and 7th street. When you get there, stay in your car and I will come and find you. Oh and come alone. I'll know if you haven't. Another thing you might want to do is remove that gun from your glove compartment or else we're going to have a problem.
Yours truly,
The Black Feather."
Then it deleted itself. It simply vanished as if it were never there. Allen clicked his deleted folder and it was empty. How did a message just vanish? The Black Feather had to be quite the computer whiz to do that. Allen sighed and decided he would go and see The Black Feather as soon as he could, but first, he had to curb his hunger.
He slid some Pop-Tarts into his toaster oven and pushed "Toast". Then he grabbed a bowl and poured some Corn Pops into it filling to the rim. He then strode over to the fridge and opened it to retrieve the milk carton and poured some milk into the bowl. The buzzer to the toaster oven went off and Allen retrieved his Pop-Tarts. He sat down at his table and began to eat. He checked his watch, which now read, "9:27am". Allen finished his breakfast quickly and threw the bowl into the sink; half hoping that it would wash itself. He hated doing dishes. He had never had to do them as a kid because that had been his sister's job. His job had been to do the laundry and clean the bathrooms so naturally, Allen always had clean clothes and a likewise bathroom.
At about 12pm, Allen decided he would call Samantha. He picked up the phone and punched in her number. The phone rang a couple times until someone picked up.
"Hello?" came a shy female voice. Well, either it was a shy voice or a tired voice but Allen couldn't really tell.
"Samantha?" he asked, "Hi This is Allen Michaels, William Watson's friend?"
"OH hi!" she said a bit more excitedly. "I was hoping you'd call me. You're the one who's taking me to this party tonight?"
Allen smiled, "Yes that would be me. I was just calling to see if you would be ready around 5:30 so I can pick you up."
"Oh yes I can be ready by then." She said. "I'll see you then okay?"
"Okay I'll let you go." He said still smiling
"Okay, bye." She hung up.
Allen sighed and fell onto his couch. It was more of a love seat than a couch since it only really fit two people. Then again, by American standards, four people Allen's size could sit on it. He decided to take a nap and set his cell phone to go off at 3pm so he'd have an hour before he'd have to meet up with Larrice. He collapsed on his bed that creaked from the sudden added weight. Allen sighed in exhaustion. Today had been a very boring day so far, but there was no doubt in his mind that Larrice would change that. Not to mention the party that night. He let sleep come to him and drifted off.
The annoying sound of beeping woke Allen up at three. He shot up and gasped.
"Jeez." He said. "I really did get some sleep…" He smiled
It was normally hard for him to get sleep during the day, but today was one of those rare exceptions. He stretched and rolled out of bed. He quickly threw on his clothes and brushed his teeth. He hopped into his car and headed towards the Roses Café.
He knew where it was. In fact, he found himself going there quite often for their great coffee, but only in the event that he felt too lazy to make his own. He pulled into the parking lot and waited. His watch beeped to four. He sighed. Where was she?
"I hope she gets here soon." He thought. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had no idea where she would be. Would she pop up out of nowhere, or walk out of the café?
Allen found himself being more and more paranoid ever since his father's death. He didn't know why, but ever since he learned that his father had been murdered, he had a fear of ending up just like his old man. Allen wouldn't allow it to go that way though.
"No, I won't go that way." He said to himself. "Don't even think about that." He shook his head to get the thought out of his head.
Someone knocked on the passenger window of his car. He glanced to see a woman's figure.
"Larrice?" he asked, though the window was up so she wouldn't hear him. He unlocked the doors by pushing the little lock button on the armrest of his door. The woman opened the door and stepped in the car and sat down in the passenger seat.
"Drive." She ordered with utmost directness.
Allen didn't hesitate, but put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.
"I sent in your information to the police, but there's a problem…" Larrice said suddenly.
Allen frowned. "What's that?" he asked with a shaky voice. He didn't like where this was going.
"It seems" she replied, "that your father was involved in some things that one might define as gang activity." She looked at Allen, her icy pale blue eyes piercing into his. No. They seemed to pierce his soul, not his body. It was frightening.
"My father?" Allen asked. "In gang activity? My father was fifty-four years old before he died. You're telling me he was in a gang?"
Larrice shrugged. "Not all gangs are like the Cribs and the Bloods. Look at the Mafia. Organized crime. I have reason to believe that your father's entire business was based off a huge crime wave he set up." She sighed. "It doesn't have to look that way. I can tweak the facts to the police if they ask more about it," she frowned, "or I could tell them the truth. It's your choice."
Allen, now frustrated, hit the stirring wheel with anger. "Are you sure that your facts are straight? My father was…"
"How dare you question my sources!" Larrice hissed. "I'm doing you a favor MR. Michaels, and you have the nerve to question my judgment? You are lucky that I even considered helping you. Were you the son of any other man, I would not twitch an eyebrow to help you."
"Okay okay okay." Allen said. "It's just---It's hard to see my father as a leader in organized crime."
Larrice nodded. "Trust me, it surprised me too, but the facts are there. So, in the event the police ask more, what do I tell them?"
Allen considered this. Should they know the truth, or was it too much for even them to know? Allen shook his head. "Create some story to fill in those gaps, but don't tell them about his crime fetish."
Larrice nodded. "Stop here." She said pointing to a part of the road where the sidewalk led to a subway. "I will keep you informed by e-mail and may haps a phone call."
Allen pulled over to the curb and Larrice climbed out. She whirled on him and pointed a finger at him.
"Do not attempt to trace my calls or e-mail. You won't like what you find, and you won't find me." She turned and slammed the door.
"Wait!" Allen cried, but Larrice had vanished underneath the road through the subway entrance. He had wanted to ask what the previous night had been about. Had he shot his own father? Or had he imagined that part? Did he imagine everything? Why did his head hurt? Was he thinking too much?
Allen sighed and pulled back onto the road and drove around a little bit. He stopped at the Roses Café and got one of their coffees. He loved their coffee. It was the only coffee place where the coffee was drowned in milk and creamer as soon as you got it. All you had to do was add sugar and it tasted perfect.
Allen pulled into Samantha's driveway at exactly 5:28 pm. He stepped out of the car and walked up to her door. He had gotten a small bouquet of flowers and was quite proud of himself. HE rang the doorbell.
"Who is it?" a female voice called, muffled by the door and other sound blocking materials, the walls and such.
"It's Allen." He replied with a smile hanging lightly on his face.
The door opened and Samantha stood in the doorway. She wore a light magenta dress of silk that showed off quite a bit of cleavage, but not too much for it to be considered "revealing". She had her normally long hair tied back in a bun. She was gorgeous.
"Hi Allen." She said shyly. She pulled back a stray strand of hair and smiled.
Allen kind of stared at her. She was drop dead beautiful. He often wondered how women could apply a little make-up, squeeze into such a tight dress, pull their hair back, and then suddenly look like someone totally different.
"What are looking at?" Samantha asked still a little shyly.
Allen shook into the material world. "Oh I just can't believe how beautiful you look." He said absently.
Samantha blushed. "Oh thank you. You're sweet."
Allen smiled and handed her the bouquet. "For you, Samantha." He said smiling.
Samantha blush only deepened. "Oh how thoughtful. Thank you Allen." She took the bundle of flowers and walked deeper into the house. "Please, come in for a minute. I'll put these in a vase before we leave."
Allen walked inside her house. "So you live here alone?" he asked.
Samantha had gone into the kitchen. "No. Me and Diana split the rent. You know Diana right?"
Allen nodded. "Yeah, she works in Administration doesn't she?"
Samantha appeared back in the entrance hall. "Yeah, she and I have been friends since our junior year in high school."
Allen offered his arm for her to link with hers. "Really? That's cool." He said.
She accepted his arm and slid hers in to interlock with his. Allen escorted her to his car. He opened her day and helped her inside. He moved to his side and turned on the ignition.
"Okay," Allen said with a smirk on his face, "Let's go."
He pulled out of the driveway and zoomed off down the street. He zipped past the intersections catching each green light perfectly.
"How did you ever manage to get a car like this?" Samantha asked. She leaned the seat forward a bit.
"Well I do work as the assistant director Samantha." He said as though it were as obvious as a black bear in a blizzard.
"Oh yeah, oh and please," she replied. "Just call me Sam. Samantha is what my mom calls me."
Slightly embarrassed, Allen grinned. "Got it Sam." He said. "By the way," he muttered. "What exactly did my old buddy William say about me?"
Sam smiled, "Oh he just said that you were sweet, kind, and a little bit of a work-aholic." She shifted. "He also told me that you've only been here a few years and you're already moving higher than most other employees."
Allen smirked, "Well that is true." He said. "I have worked hard to be where I am though. It wasn't easy. Old Man Watson didn't believe in me at first until I got a special deal through."
Allen pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. He stepped out of the corvette and walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door to help Sam out. He offered his hand, which she accepted, and he lifted her up off the seat.
"Why thank you." She said cheerfully. She smiled at him and stepped out of the car with his aid. "Such a gentleman." She sighed.
Allen smiled and closed the door. He offered his arm again and she accepted. Then he escorted her inside the building. The party was being held in the Tiger's Club. The Club was like a big reception room where many groups often held meetings and ceremonies like weddings and funerals. It could be transformed into a party room with the snap of a finger…or two. He opened one of the double doors and let Sam go in first.
Inside, music was playing at full blast and people were dancing in the middle of the dance floor. The song was vaguely familiar but Allen couldn't remember the name or the band.
"Oh well." He thought. "Let's see if we can find William." Allen told Sam who just nodded.
It wasn't hard to find William at all. He was standing next to the bar. When he saw Allen, he came up to him and patted him on the shoulder.
"Ahhhh Allen," he said trying to speak over the music. "You made it! Great!" he looked at Sam. "You look great Sammy." He said.
Sammy smiled. "Thanks." She said. "Wanna dance Allen?" she asked.
Allen nodded. "Sure." He said just as a slow song came on.
Honestly, Allen did not like slow dancing, especially when he did it with women, but he would make Sam an exception and he put his hands around her waist. She put her arms around the back of his neck and they began to move to the rhythm of the music. Dancing with women wasn't all that bad, but it was completely boring. Allen had to keep directing his attention away from Sams' almost revealing dress, more specifically the part that almost gave him full view of her breasts. He wasn't a pervert, but he was still a guy. He sighed.
"This is fun isn't it?" Sam asked after they had danced for a few songs.
Allen had overcome his attention problem and instead of looking down at Sams' breasts, he looked at the glitter on her cheeks. That way, it looked as if he were gazing into her eyes and not being inappropriate.
"Yeah, it is." He lied. He didn't really like dancing at all and seldom did it anyways. He knew how to dance well, but he didn't care for it anymore. He had taken dance classes as a child to get rid of some of the free time he had after school. Time that was meant to study, were spent dancing. Now though, he didn't even think about dancing. So why did he enjoy dancing with Sam? She seemed so graceful and peaceful. She moved in such a way that Allen felt hypnotized by it and that she could make him do anything by simply saying so.
"You 're thinking." He thought to himself. "Stop it, enjoy the party, or you're grounded for a week Allen."
A/N: I hope you all enjoy Chapter 2 of this story! I want to hear from you so if you read it, give me a review! Any comments or tips would be great to improving the story itself. I have complete tolerance to constructive criticism… not criticism in general but if what you criticize is legit and you give me an idea on how I can make it better, I won't have the thought of wanting to bite your head off. Seriously though, I do want to hear from any and all readers and I hope you look forward to Chapter 3!
Coming to a web page near you.
