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Precious Meddle
Precious Meddle
Precious Meddle
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Precious Meddle

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Angel Lyman is a U.S. Marine with superhuman abilities and a troubled heart. Priya Blue is now boss over her late father's record label, adding to her already-stacked list of responsibilities and worries. Wolfe is an about-to-be-famous rap prodigy with no history in the industry and very little street credibility.... There is a collision on the horizon.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherChris DeBrie
Release dateJun 11, 2014
ISBN9781311868732
Precious Meddle
Author

Chris DeBrie

Chris DeBrie is an American publisher, cartoonist, and musician.

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    Book preview

    Precious Meddle - Chris DeBrie

    Precious Meddle

    Precious Meddle

    by Chris DeBrie

    *Smashwords edition*

    copyright 2014 D Stevens

    a Wash Your Hands Production.

    No part of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, except brief quotations for review purposes.

    1.

    Lyman watched the house burn.

    Sirens.

    He heard the music. He heard Fara Paul's voice.

    He walked east, toward the beach.

    In a dark brown sedan down the block, two men watched Lyman move away. Here we go, one of the men said. He is on his way to pound someone else into a sack of sugar.

    Like I've been saying: Good for him.

    Ask the hospitals and police if it's good. He's a pumped-up renegade who gets people hurt.

    Some of those people are big mouth drug-addicted celebrities, thinking they're kings and queens. So? he's a public servant.

    They can't fight back against him.

    Hopefully he doesn't get caught, then.

    Bottom line is, Radford, we can't have a crazy military man out there bustin heads. Bad for the image.

    You might be smarter than you look. Let's trail him.

    "You mean tail him."

    I think either is acceptable.

    I didn't wear walking shoes...

    Gold, we're not getting out of this car. You can be sure he's not going far.

    ***

    Look, if you're another bill collector, I'll just take your card or phone number, Priya said. The man at her door was seriously good-looking and seeing him there had momentarily stunned her. But then she considered who he might be.

    I'm not a collector, he said, smiling a little.

    Who are you then?

    My name is Chuck Winder. I came to make you a business proposal.

    Okay, she said. That sounds a little too mysterious for me.

    What does that mean?

    "I'm not in any position to consider any proposals right now, she said. I have enough on my plate. Do we owe you money, too? Write me a letter and I promise to send the full amount... I have a stack of you guys right here on the counter."

    Winder put his hand on the door. He was a big man and Priya nearly stepped back. You don't understand, he said, I want to buy this place.

    What? Why?

    I'm a contractor, Winder said. I want to remodel it and sell for a profit.

    You just drive around, knocking on doors at seven in the morning, offering to buy people's homes?

    I've been known to knock at five.

    Uh-huh... I think you should leave now.

    Hear me out, said Winder. This is a prime location. We've already purchased the apartment complex next door.

    That's fine; that needs to be torn down anyway.

    I've heard you and your daughter need the cash, Mrs. Blue.

    Oh, did you? People been running their jaws about me?

    Winder's face dropped. Look, I apologize. That was out of line for me to say that.

    Priya was silent.

    Relax. I'm not here to threaten you, or...

    Good thing.

    Maybe we can get off on the right foot another time—

    Please leave, Mr. Winder.

    She found her sister Ana in the kitchen with their neighbor Carl, watching an online video. Dina was on the floor, playing with a toy motorcycle. She lifted Dina. The girl dropped the motorcyle and protested loudly. Priya set her back on the floor to avoid flying pigtails. "Okay, Dina, she said. I thought my daughter wasn't supposed to push me away for another ten years?"

    The Americans didn't care about the civilians, came from the computer. They had a target and destroyed an entire town for it. Some may simply rationalize that... it's war. When it happens to you, it's personal. While the western press blinds Americans, we will press on toward the truth. The infidel Bosh, has taken believers of every faith... taken their worship for himself. Bosh must be stopped. Ultimately, all who do not convert to OUR way must die and they shall die. Whether execution, crucifixion, or cutting off of the hands and feet... or exile... Allah is the greatest.

    Priya stood with her mouth open. Why the hell are you listening to this with my daughter ten feet away?

    Ana turned to Priya, her eyes shining. That's Uncle Arash!

    Don't care who it was!

    Sometimes I need to remember where we come from, Ana said. Look at that. Uncle Arash has over ten thousand views.

    Carl said, I thought your family was Hindu or something?

    You don't look like a thinker to me.

    Well excuuuse me, he said. I'm just an ole country boy.

    So modest, said Priya. If that's all you were, Daddy wouldn't have hired you as part of our mega, three-person operation here.

    Carl puffed out his chest and stood akimbo. Utility Man.

    Carl's not that smart, said Ana. He ordered that calamari last week.

    I knew what calamari was in theory. I just didn't expect them to drop a whole squid on my plate, Carl said. You guys are part Indian?...

    Ana gestured at Priya. Our father was East Indian. Mommy's African-American. She's Muslim. Uncle was the one who introduced them.

    And your dad didn't mind she was religious?

    Why would he? He thought all religion was a lie, same as I do, so he let her alone on that stuff...

    We need to figure out what we're going to do about this bald head kid, Lyman, said Priya. The pre-dawn national news had buried the thirty-second story near the bottom of the hour, but the words nightclub brawl perked her up. Law enforcement had identified a man who was traveling up and down the east coast, participating in brawls in public places. Five donnybrooks in two nights. The man was thought to be a young U.S. Marine named Angel Lyman, reportedly on a few days' leave for the holiday weekend. The string of fights was one thing, but people started paying attention when there was a mass shooting at the fourth brawl, Thanksgiving night. In hindsight, the public nodded and thought, There DID seem to be a lot of large club fights in the news lately... They would notice that the same man appeared on surveillance video in cities hundreds of miles apart, with only a few hours between. For now, the puzzle pieces were still floating freely.

    Why are you talking about some hopped-up thug?

    Because I'm thinking he would love to be on the yacht tonight.

    He's a thousand miles from here by now, hiding, said Ana. You go around beating random people to a pulp, sparking riots, and you're gonna go down.

    No, said Carl. He's here. And he might not go down without a few tanks.

    Somebody who acts like that—I think he enjoys being chased, Priya said. We can't let him ruin tonight at E.L.K.

    What possessed you to book a show on a boat on Black Friday? said Ana.

    That was decided weeks ago by Daddy. Lyman is new.

    "It's too late to worry about that

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