A Day In The Life: The Santa Espera Series

By Harley Fox

A city built on corruption. Who will save their souls?

Santa Espera is a dirty, sprawling metropolis. The streets crawl with crime, drugs, and forbidden love. At the heart of the city is a monolith; a vast building that stretches hundreds of feet, employing thousands of people.

PharmaChem.

The city's main source of economy and only provider of pharmaceuticals, both over and under the counter. The man who runs it, Will Silver, is the same man who brought this derelict city back to life. He's the man who controls 99% of its wealth. And he's got plans for the future.

Merryn. Jake. Katie. Lance. Trista. Flynn.

This is a glimpse into a day in their lives before our story takes place. Whether it's by trying to survive, working a tough job for an even worse boss, or searching for happiness between bedsheets, these six work hard to keep on living. Their fates will soon intertwine. But whether it's for the better or worse remains to be seen.

A Day In The Life is a prologue to the Santa Espera series. It is a standalone novella. It contains swearing, violence, sex, and gang-related activity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harley Fox
• Release date: Feb 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386052029

Book preview

A Day In The Life

Santa Espera Series Prologue

by Harley Fox

A city built on corruption. Who will save their souls?

Santa Espera is a dirty, sprawling metropolis. The streets crawl with crime, drugs, and forbidden love. At the heart of the city is a monolith; a vast building that stretches hundreds of feet, employing thousands of people.

PharmaChem.

The city's main source of economy and only provider of pharmaceuticals, both over and under the counter. The man who runs it, Will Silver, is the same man who brought this derelict city back to life. He's the man who controls 99% of its wealth. And he's got plans for the future.

Merryn. Jake. Katie. Lance. Trista. Flynn.

This is a glimpse into a day in their lives before our story takes place. Whether it's by trying to survive, working a tough job for an even worse boss, or searching for happiness between bedsheets, these six work hard to keep on living. Their fates will soon intertwine. But whether it's for the better or worse remains to be seen.

A Day In The Life is a prologue to the Santa Espera series. It is a standalone novella. It contains swearing, violence, sex, and gang-related activity.

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Jake

I rub the cloth over the shining frame and new casing of the motorcycle. I’m hunkered down next to it, getting rid of any last grease, fingerprints, smudges. My gun digs into my skin and I pause for a moment to adjust it inside of my belt. That done, I go back to wiping, and once it’s at a place I like I stand up, admiring my handiwork.

Two solid days of repair work. That’s what it took to make this thing look like it does right now.

Which is a far throw from how it looked when that guy brought it in here.

I was working on another bike some girl had brought in. She needed her wheels realigned, which was an easy enough job. I told her it would be an hour and she left to go run some errands as I worked on it. I was halfway through the job when I heard the telltale sounds of footsteps coming down the alley toward my garage.

That’s strange, I thought as I glanced up at the clock. She’s early.

But it wasn’t her. Instead it was someone else, a guy, walking his bike up to me. And one look at the thing was enough to see why he was walking instead of riding.

The frame was dented; the wheel spokes were busted and the front wheel was way out of alignment. The handlebars were scuffed, one of them bent back. And there, smeared along and covering half the side, was something mostly dried but still somewhat thick and wet. Something that should’ve been inside somebody’s body, instead of painted across the side of a bike. Something dark and burgundy that couldn’t have been anything other than blood.

The guy with the bike didn’t seem like he was the one who’d provided the new color. His clothes were torn at the seams and he had road rash all down one leg, but nothing major. That blood wasn’t his. I took in the sight of him as he turned his way from the alley into my open garage. When he looked up at me I saw his eyes were glassy, his pupils huge in their sockets.

Hey, he said in a cracked voice. Are you open? I need my bike fixed up.

I opened my mouth to speak, not sure which part of this I should address first. I settled on the obvious:

Are you all right?

He seemed genuinely surprised at the question. Huh? What? He laughed, a strange sound. Yeah, of course I’m all right. Never been better. I just ... my bike needs fixing. I was taking this corner and the sun was in my eyes, and I guess I must’ve turned the thing a little too hard and, whoops! Next thing you know my wheels are sliding out from under me and I went careening off into the sidewalk! It was okay though, nobody was hurt. My bike got pretty scuffed up, though, so I need you to fix it. Can you do that?

I raised my eyebrows and nodded at the large reddish-brown stain on the side of his bike.

Nobody was hurt? I asked. He looked confused for a second and had to lean over to see where I was indicating.

Oh! Fuck. No, he said, straightening up. That’s, um ... that’s nothing. Don’t worry about that. I just need you to clean it off and fix up my bike, okay? How about it? What do you say?

This guy was bad news, I could tell. Strung out on something—crack, meth, hard to tell—and obviously in the need to get rid of the evidence. Part of me didn’t want to take the job. Just turn him away and not risk having any cops come down on me for destroying evidence.

But another part of me knew I could squeeze this guy, and that he would pay. And Lord knows I needed the money.

It’ll take a couple of days, I told him. And it’ll cost you. I ran the numbers in my head, rounding up and adding more to boot. Three grand, up front.

Deal, the guy said, letting go of his bike and walking forward as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. The bike started to lean and then crashed to the ground, shattering the sideview mirror which somehow hadn’t yet been damaged. He didn’t seem to notice.

I watched as he opened up his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash, counting out hundreds. Damn, I thought. I should’ve gone higher. Ah well, three grand is three grand. He reached the amount and handed it over, pocketing his wallet as I pocketed the cash.

Two days? he asked. I’ll come back Tuesday morning, how about that?

That works, I told him. How about ten?

Great! he said, and he turned and walked past his fallen motorcycle as though nothing were there at all, leaving my garage and going back the way he had come.

I looked down at the poor and mistreated thing, shaking my head. Jesus Christ, I muttered. Walking over to it, I picked it up and wheeled it to the side of my shop, leaving it to sit before going back to the wheel alignment job.

The girl came back and paid for the work, taking her bike with her. Now it was time to set to work on this thing. I’ve been doing this for years, but nothing I’ve done so far rivaled a job this intense. I started with the obvious—washing away the blood, with plenty of bleach—and then took the thing apart, scrapping anything seriously destroyed and putting aside anything I could salvage.

The work was long and hard, and it took me the rest of that day and well into the night before I called it quits. When I finally locked up my shop and crossed the alleyway to go home it was almost midnight. I walked into the kitchen to find a note on the counter:

Hey big brother! I made dinner for both of us but I saw you were still working and didn’t want to disturb you. I left it in the oven. Enjoy!

I smiled, putting the note down and taking out the plate of chicken casserole Emily had put together. She’s a sweet kid. I just wish things could be better for her.

I was hungry and I ate the meal in about five minutes, then I had a quick shower and went to bed. The next morning I went back to the garage and started up on the bike again. Now that the majority of the work was done, it wasn’t as bad of a job. I took my time and made sure everything was tightened correctly, that everything was in working order. About halfway through the day I saw some flashes of light out of the corner of my eye and I looked up to see Emily in her bedroom window, that camera I got her held in her hands. I gave a wave and she waved back, then went back to taking my picture. I went back to work.

It wasn’t until six that evening that the bike was more or less done. Barring a little bit of fine detailing work, I could call it a day. And fuck me, did I need a beer.

I closed up the shop and went back home to shower. After changing into some new clothes, I went into the kitchen to grab something to eat. As I was rummaging through the fridge I heard Emily’s door open and the sound of her crutches as she came down the hall