Cotton-fields, Corn-fields, Ricin and Elvis: A Myspace Love Story - Softcover

Curtis, Tony A.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1491864613 ISBN 13: 9781491864616

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2014

Synopsis

Jon Killebrew, is a lonely, middle-aged, insurance agent from the South, who is unhappy with his life and career. On his 46th birthday, as a prank from his younger, bi-polar brother, a hacker, he receives the profile of a stranger on the networking phenomena My Space. As it turns out, the stranger is a former gymnast from Iowa. Since her profile shows a picture of two small boys, out of concern, Jon writes the stranger to expose his brother as the culprit. Jon explains that Paul is physically harmless, however, advises her to remove the picture of her two boys from the website, as a precautionary measure against sexual predators. A couple days later, the stranger responds and slowly dialogue begins. After a couple of weeks talking on the computer, they exchange phone numbers. Before long, Jon finds himself driving 350 miles to meet Gabrielle in person, for a weekend in Missouri. What follows is a whirlwind of mixed emotions as a deep friendship evolves. Can this friendship develop into something more despite the fact they live 700 miles apart? My novel "Cotton-fields, Corn-fields, Ricin, and Elvis, carries the reader on an emotional journey, filled with challenges, as a long distance romance slowly evolves. Will their love survive an unexpected life changing event or will tragedy become a game changer? What does Cotton-fields, Corn-fields, Ricin, and Elvis have in common? The reader will discover the answer to this in the final chapter. This book is based on a true story, although some names have been changed to protect the children involved, especially.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Cotton-fields, Corn-fields, Ricin and Elvis

A MYSPACE LOVE STORY

By Tony A. Curtis

AuthorHouse LLC

Copyright © 2014 Tony A. Curtis
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6461-6

Contents

Acknowledgements, ix, 
Chapter One, 1, 
Chapter Two, 11, 
Chapter Three, 22, 
Chapter Four, 38, 
Chapter Five, 44, 
Chapter Six, 55, 
Chapter Seven, 59, 
Chapter Eight, 70, 
Chapter Nine, 77, 
Chapter Ten, 89, 
Chapter Eleven, 98, 
Chapter Twelve, 103, 
Chapter Thirteen, 111, 
Chapter Fourteen, 119, 
Chapter Fifteen, 124, 
Chapter Sixteen, 137, 
Chapter Seventeen, 146, 
Chapter Eighteen, 157, 
Chapter Nineteen, 164, 
Chapter Twenty, 174, 
Chapter Twenty One, 185, 
Chapter Twenty Two, 191, 
Chapter Twenty Three, 194, 
Chapter Twenty Four, 200, 

CHAPTER 1

Jon glanced into the side view mirror of the midsize U-Haul as he approached the main street intersection. His brother was no-where in sight. That was typical Nicky. Although in his early twenties, he still acted the part of a teenager. Frustration began to mount with every new sweat bead forming on his brow. It wasn't a difficult task he'd assigned his younger sibling, telling him to follow the U-Haul, and stay close behind. Jon wondered if Nicky had decided to take his 19-year-old jalopy, a Ford Bronco, joy-riding.

As Jon turned left on High St., he stretched his neck, looking behind him. A quarter of a mile back, he recognized the hood of his blue Bronco, stopped at the intersection. Damn, Nicky had taken a different route. With the heat index at 104 degrees, a typical mid-summer day in the Mississippi Delta, it was not a good time for Nicky to be testing his brother's patience.

Counting seven houses down on the right, Jon veered the U-Haul into the narrow driveway of the modest three-bedroom rental house. Although the 1400 square foot wood house was nothing elaborate, it possessed quaintness about it. More importantly, it had a nice size yard. Having spent the last twenty years living in various apartment complexes, two extra bedrooms and a yard with privacy was more than worth the extra hundred in monthly rental payments.

"Hey brother, where do you want me to park this contraption?"

Jon turned around to witness the mischievous, wide-mouthed smile of his half-Filipino, half-American brother.

"Pull it over to the side. We've got to unload the U-Haul first," Jon answered.

Jon walked to the rear of the 17 foot rental truck, flipped the latch and swung the door open. The screeching sound of shattered glass echoed, as a box crashed hard below. A dozen mason jars were instantly reduced to fragmented glass.

"I'll get a broom and dustpan."

Jon turned around hearing the stranger's deep, friendly voice. Jon watched him vanish as quickly as he appeared.

Moments later, the mystery man returned grinning, as he extended his right hand, holding the broom and dustpan with his left.

"Welcome to the neighborhood." the stranger said.

"Thank you." Jon answered awkwardly.

"Do I know you?" The stranger asked, turning to look Nicky directly in the eye.

"Oh my God, you're Dave Thomas aren't you? We used to play tennis together at Wards Recreation Center." Nicky answered excitedly with a handshake.

"Oh yeah, I used to beat you all the time," Dave answered, grin intact.

"Man, that was back in the day," Nicky continued. "Do you live right there?" Nicky asked pointing next door.

"Sure do!" Dave replied.

As the two continued reminiscing about old times, Jon chuckled, thinking about the stranger's name. The figure standing before him was certainly not the son of the famous Wendy's entrepreneur. Still, it was refreshing to note in less than five minutes, he had met a friendly neighbor of color. Jon considered the meeting as an omen, a positive sign of things to come. Jon knew instinctively, he and Dave would be friends. He had the ability to size people up in a jiffy.

Jon walked to the front door of his new place, leaving the two of them chatting. Walking inside, he began visualizing where each piece of furniture would go in the living room. He took a systematic approach to this, carefully orchestrating details such as spacing, angles, and direction facing, of each inanimate object. What a doctor deemed as an obsessive compulsive disorder or OCD years earlier served him well in this type of situation. He didn't intend to spend an entire day shuffling furniture around like a deck of cards. In his mind's eye, he would know where every piece went before the first piece was actually unloaded. He had to know, compliments of his diagnosis.

"Hey brother, where are you?"

Jon turned around hearing the voice coming from his tall, dark-skinned, unpredictable, youngest brother.

"Be there in just a minute, Nicky," Jon answered. "I'm trying to figure out where everything is going."

"You can do that when we get it all unloaded," Nicky fired back without hesitation. "I've got to be finished by three and be in Jackson by five."

"Okay, enough already, I'm coming," Jon replied.

Such annoying exchanges were typical between the two of them. Jon reasoned the generation gap was the culprit. Nicky's impatience resembled a mirror image of his at that age.

The sweltering, early afternoon sun seemed to be shining ten degrees hotter now, than twenty minutes before. The Mississippi Delta was no stranger to heat and humidity during the summer months. Jon hadn't planned to move in July, the opportunity simply emerged at the last minute. When his best friend Mike, a realtor, called announcing one of his properties had become available for rent, Jon didn't hesitate. It was just in time to give his longstanding current landlord the required thirty day's written notice.

Three-bedroom rental houses in the Delta were scarce. Even if you were fortunate enough to come across one before it was snapped up, affording it was another matter. In most cases, the cost of renting such a place surpassed what a mortgage would cost. It was an oxymoron that kept the ordinary working class impoverished in this region.

In three years, the once immaculate credit score Jon had possessed would be restored to a reasonable number. His generosity to a former girlfriend was paramount to his income. Regardless, he took full responsibility, knowing no one had made him act a fool. He felt blessed that Mike, his friend and landlord, had dropped the price fifty dollars per month to make it affordable for him. It would not be forgotten.

Hard economic times had taken a toll on this region. There were a couple of affluent sub-divisions. However, eighty percent of the township was divided between blue collar workers and welfare recipients. This fact placed Mississippi dead last each year on the economic map. The once thriving downtown area of Greenville was all but a ghost town now. As in many small towns across America, the new super Wal-Mart received credit for the downtown area's demise. If there were any more room for blame, the two casinos would share that.

The negative attitude of the town's citizenship seemed to supersede its desire to prosper. It was something Jon had noticed since first arriving in this town surrounded by cotton fields, twenty years earlier. Occasionally, he wondered how he ever made a living here, much less finish as top salesman in the state two years running with Liberty International Insurance Co. He'd even managed to finish number twelve in the nation with this company in 1992. That was long ago, early in his career when he was full of piss and vinegar. The following year ended with Jon being full of gloom and doom, after the company ripped him off six thousand dollars in bonus money. It had hurt Jon so bad, that he gave them back a trip to the Bahamas, quit the company and the insurance business for three years altogether.

Jon returned to the grocery business during that time and was quickly promoted to assistant store manager. He maintained his insurance license all the while and after a big blow up occurred between him and the manager, Jon had thrown the store keys on his desk with a few choice adjectives before walking out.

In 1996, Jon found himself unemployed, but he had one thing going for him. He still held his insurance license. He vowed to do it differently this time, working only for himself, contracting directly with several companies so his eggs would be in different baskets.

Jon really struggled the next two years. By 1998, he had built a decent monthly residual base he could count on. The following nine years as an independent agent had been a roller coaster filled with ups and downs. He had envisioned making an annual six-figure income by this time. It simply had not happened, despite his best efforts.

"What time is it, brother?" Nicky asked.

"What is with you? Are you taking medicine? Ten minutes till two," Jon answered with an agitated voice.

"That's great, we're only half way through unloading, and I should have left an hour ago," Nicky shot back sarcastically.

"What's so important in Jackson, anyway? I told you a month ago we were doing this today," Jon answered.

"A friend of mine has lined us up a couple of girls to meet at a party his sister is throwing tonight."

"What time does the party start?" Jon asked curiously.

"Nine o'clock."

"Then why the hell are you in such a hurry to get there six hours early?" Jon asked.

"Because we want to have time to eat dinner, drink a few beers, chill a while then get cleaned up," Nicky answered, looking at Jon like he was an alien.

"Well, I promise you they will have the same colored panties on when you get there as they do now." Jon replied, amused.

"They usually don't wear any!" Nicky answered, laughing.

"Alright, you got me there," Jon countered, laughing back. "What you say we pick up our pace a notch and get finished. I still need you to hook my computer up for me before you take off."

"Okay," Nicky answered un-enthusiastically.

"You don't have to sound like the grim reaper. I'll give you a little extra money for helping me with it," Jon added.

"Cool, that's easy to do," Nicky answered smiling.

Jon knew his brother responded well to greenbacks. He guessed he had surprised Nicky with the offer to pay him extra. He knew Nicky wasn't expecting money because he was always doing things for Nicky.

Jon often had Nicky and his girlfriend over for dinner. He'd grill steak or chicken and cook fresh vegetables from his garden. Nicky especially loved the squash and displayed his affection for it with a voracious appetite that always left an empty plate. Poor kid acted like he never got fed sometimes. Jon guessed the reason was his mother worked twelve hour shifts, seven days a week as a nurse.

In addition to feeding him, Nicky was always showing up unannounced wanting to use Jon's computer. Jon was reluctant to let him, usually giving in only after intense begging on Nicky's part. Nicky knew the reasons well why his brother felt this way. The last virus that had infected Jon's computer, after Nicky's fingers crossed the keyboard, ended up costing Jon forty bucks to fix. Jon did the usual thing. He would call Nicky and curse him out. Two weeks later, Nicky would appear at his door, like a stray cat hungry for food. Jon would feel sorry for him and let him in. After watching Nicky act like a grieving widow for a couple of hours, Jon would give in after Nicky promised to only play the video games. Later, Jon would swear to himself, next time he would stick to his guns with Nicky.

"What room is your computer in?" Nicky shouted from the back of the U-Haul.

"Second door on your left, I tell you what, go ahead and get started on it. I'll get these last few boxes." Jon answered.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Nicky responded hastily. "Where do you want me to set it up?"

"Where did I place the box?" Jon asked.

"By the window," Nicky replied.

"Does that give you a hint?"

"Well it doesn't tell me which direction that you want the computer facing," Nicky responded.

"If I wanted my back to the window, there are three other walls I could have chosen to place the box," Jon answered.

"But only one other wall has a plug in," Nicky answered, looking pleased.

"Now you're making my point, brother," Jon answered. "Nicky, just put the thing together facing the window, so that if Cameron Diaz walks by in a thong, my glasses will fog up."

"Damn brother, if she does that, you better call me over!" Nicky answered, laughing.

The rhetoric was always like that between him and Nicky. What sounded like an argument between the two was actually only a war of wits. Nine times out of ten, the contest ended amicably. Jon enjoyed picking on his younger sibling, challenging him intellectually.

Today, moving into this house signified a new beginning. Jon would release all the monkeys on his back. First, he would stop the drinking and bar hopping. Next, he would take the time to heal soberly from the pains of the past. Finally, he'd get to know himself, the stranger residing deep inside this physical body. The thought of starting over, a complete life style make-over, excited Jon.

"What you thinking about so hard, brother?" Jon turned to see Nicky standing beside him.

"Oh, I was just thinking there are going to be some major changes taking place in my life soon," Jon answered.

"Like what?"

"You'll see soon enough," Jon replied smiling. "You got my computer hooked up yet?"

"It's all done, bro!" Nicky replied.

"I guess I need to pay you now."

"Sweet," Nicky answered, smiling.

Jon reached into his pocket, pulling out his money-clip. Each bill was in perfect sequence from the largest to the smallest, all turned the same direction.

"Is fifty enough?" Jon asked, pulling out two twenties and a ten.

"Yeah, wasn't expecting that much," Nicky answered smiling. "Will you give me a ride back over to your apartment to pick up my car, so I can get on the road?"

"Sure," Jon answered.

After dropping Nicky off and returning home, Jon glanced at his watch. It was only 3:30. He couldn't believe it had only taken another hour and a half to unload the rest of the U-Haul.

Walking into his office, he turned on his computer to double check his brother's work. That's when he noticed the loose wires hanging from his printer. Damn, Nicky didn't hook up my printer, he thought, leaving the room. That was classic Nicky.

CHAPTER 2

The first week in the new neighborhood proved uneventful. Jon's day had begun about the same every morning, waking at eight a.m. to the sight of two large gray squirrels chasing each other. They raced up and down the massive limbs of the tall oak tree located just outside his bedroom window. Occasionally, they switched positions, the chaser becoming the chased. Their world seemed carefree and exciting, void of obligations or responsibilities.

As the limbs swung wildly from the weight of the two squirrels, Jon thought back to a couple of early childhood memories hunting with his father. His dad would have spotted these squirrels half way across the woods, stalking them quietly while getting into position. Jack Sr. would then turn around, raising his left index finger to his lips signaling Jon and Jack Jr. not to move or make a sound. Next thing you know, a thunderous sound would occur as the elusive creature tumbled from the heavens, usually landing a few feet from where Jon's dad had fired the twelve-gauge. He'd usually bag six to eight of them before lunch. On these rare hunting trips, Jon's dad was his hero, king of the jungle, superior to the woods inhabitants. Jon struggled to remember more than a handful of such pleasant times.

Jon walked to his office to check the message from his loudly beeping answering machine. Sure enough, it was another policyholder with a giant case of the red-ass. He despised waking to the sound of a gruff voice, from a cantankerous old soul, before having the chance to solve their problem, real or imagined. He wanted to tell these nuisances to eat more prunes, or invest in a box of laxatives.

They didn't understand the new prescription drug plans that recently hit the market. Hell, these plans were complicated to the salesman. Jon liked to tell people it would take a team of Philadelphia lawyers to understand them. It had taken him two full days of intense studying, before his own "light-bulb moment" occurred. Then, he started using the drug plans as a "door opener" for higher commission sales. He had also opened the flood gates of time consuming questions coming daily from confused senior citizens.

Jon delighted in playing a secret game that helped him keep his sanity. If a customer called in a calm, respectful manner with a problem, they would usually have their call returned within the hour. On the contrary, a weekend, late night caller leaving an unpleasant voice message, pissed him off to no end. He might wait an entire day before returning such a call, apologizing to his client, that he had just returned from a trip. They didn't know the "trip" was to the grocery store or gas station. The waiting game proved quite effective rendering an attitude improvement ninety percent of the time.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Cotton-fields, Corn-fields, Ricin and Elvis by Tony A. Curtis. Copyright © 2014 Tony A. Curtis. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2014
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1491864613
• ISBN 13: 9781491864616
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 222