Night Crawls and Sweet Dreams

By Joel Vincent

It's a euphoric time in the 1990's.  Small companies are sprouting up everywhere, capitalizing on the boom and becoming rich corporations overnight.   But not every company is an instant sensation.  LenwahCom, 'The Little Company with The Funny Name' is about as nondescript as they come except that it employs Anton Epps; A peculiar dreamer with a strange habit, intriguing insights, and a knack for attracting the wrong attention.  Intrigued, a conventional girl with sensible ways driven by a father's strict upbringing is drawn in.  As the two unlikely allies come together, she realizes Anton's seemingly safe yet unconventional lifestyle may not be as safe as she thought.  They embark on a journey that is sometimes exciting, often surprising but ultimately dangerous. Throughout it all, they find success isn't always as it seems

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joel Vincent
• Release date: Sep 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781681113326

Joel Vincent

Joel Vincent hails from Washington DC and Northern Virginia, originally. He currently lives and writes in Honolulu, Hawaii.

Book preview

NIGHT

CRAWLS

AND

SWEET DREAMS

JOEL VINCENT

Wasteland Press

www.wastelandpress.net

Shelbyville, KY USA

Night Crawls and Sweet Dreams

by Joel Vincent

Copyright © 2019 Joel Vincent

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

First Printing – October 2019

ISBN: 978-1-68111-332-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019914513

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM, BY PHOTOCOPYING OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS, INCLUDING INFORMATION STORAGE OR RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE COPYRIGHT OWNER/AUTHOR

Printed in the U.S.A.

0 1 2

I often find myself revisiting the days of my youth. Not that I’m all that old now, it’s just I’m not as young as I was then. Prominent of these memories is a particular job I held on the outskirts of town. This would be my second stint into the working world after I’d learned programming computers wasn’t going to be my ‘thing’.

It was one of those start-up companies that seemed to sprout up everywhere during the mid-90’s era, dot-com craze. One look at the place with its beat-up furniture, walls of faded paint and hodge-podge seating arrangements and you knew it wasn’t a business that was leading its field. Nothing about it spoke of groundbreaking success. Nevertheless, I was proud to be there. I had started off on the wrong path, taken the steps necessary to correct it and this would be my first venture into a new world. I wouldn’t be one of several almost invisible clerks as was the case throughout my schooling (when my schedule actually allowed me to hold a job), this time I would be the only accountant in the company. A realization that both scared and thrilled me.

I didn’t go there with the idea of meeting anyone who would have any kind of impact on me one way or the other. Even I knew back then LenwahCom wasn’t the kind of company that would attract the greatest of minds, at least not at its present stage. So, my acquaintance with Anton Epps had been a mixture of surprise, humor, dismay and regret. More on that later as I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

I’d since put him out of my mind mostly, except for the occasional moments when something triggered me into a flashback to ‘then’. Even at those times, it takes me a moment to remember exactly who I was trying to remember. Then: Oh yeah, Anton. That guy! I wonder what became of him? That was until today when I ran into Florence Noble who was eager to refresh my memory.

Florence Noble, Flo to us girls who worked at Lenwah. Although not the oldest of us (she was however two years my senior), she’d been at the company the longest. This was a fact that she seemed to enjoy lording over us. She was the office manager and she ruled with an iron fist. Nothing got done around the place without her approval or, at least, knowledge. That included many of the bosses’ decisions.

Anton Epps, as I quickly found out by way of Flo, had started just a month prior to my arrival. He was our information technology/graphics design guy. He and I had frequent dealings with Flo, particularly during my early days of employment since Anton was charged with getting me up and running, set up with passwords, emails, etc. and, as I mentioned, nothing got done around that office without Flo’s input and/or stamp of approval. A fact that sometimes annoyed Anton more than anything.

I hadn’t seen Flo since I’d left the company although I’d occasionally hear about her from a friend of a friend. Distant news of a bygone era is how I think of it. To be honest, Flo wasn’t the type of person I was interested in keeping in touch with. She was a busybody, a gossip, and a two-faced friend who was loyal to nobody except her two dogs who she gave us constant updates on and her nephew who was like a son to her. The biggest thing we had in common was a mutual loathing of one Anton Epps.

So, maybe you can understand when I tell you bumping into her in Macy’s parking lot, both our arms full of bags (I suppose shopping was another thing we shared a common passion for), was not the entirely pleasant surprise one desires on a Saturday afternoon.

Flo, however, seemed to view our present relationship differently. She greeted me with open arms, bags and all, delighted at the chance meeting and full of an electric energy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pang of guilt at not being mutually excited.

Girl! She exclaimed. Imagine meeting you here today! Out of all times!

And there was Flo in front of me. Short, all of five feet one and I’d say about fifteen pounds heavier than I remembered, a little older in the face. Crows-feet in the corners of her eyes were just beginning to appear. They were the lines of a woman who spent a lot of time laughing in the light and, perhaps, crying in the dark. I’d often wondered about the private life of Florence Noble. About what happened when she had no one to gossip and share barbs with, what she was like when there was nobody else around but her. She’d cut her hair in a shorter style, and it was either time for another dye job or she didn’t care as her roots showed more than just touches of gray.

My gosh, the woman was practically breathless with excitement after just a few sentences. Another pang of guilt.

Hello Flo, it’s good to see you. Haven’t seen you in—

Girl! Flo interrupted. Never one for formalities was she. What are you doing now? Today? You finished shopping?

I was, but aside from complimenting Flo on whatever she’d purchased; the obligatory, Oh, that’s nice and Cute shoes! I had no real plans or desire to reconnect with her. Too much time had passed, and she was too much of a gossip hound. But there were the pangs of guilt over her excitement and my lack thereof. So, it was with some regret but not surprise that I heard myself say, I have no plans.

And that was it. I found myself immediately swept up and incorporated into Flo’s afternoon. "Then have lunch with me. Have you had lunch yet? You can come to my place. You gotta see my new place anyway. I just got it fixed up and, girl, you just don’t know! I have something to show you!"

I hadn’t, in fact, had lunch yet and I was, in fact, hungry. So, what harm would it do to have a little lunch with the woman?

She only lived a few miles away, so we agreed I’d follow her home and park in her extra parking spot that she proudly announced came with her new condo.

We arrived at her place, a newish looking three level deal not unlike many others in architecture scattered throughout town. A combination of red brick and aluminum siding. Some buildings had light blue aluminum, some white and others tan. Flo’s building had light blue. She lived on the top floor which she boasted about. No little kids running around over my head and nobody dropping stuff above me all day and night like they lost their damned minds. My last condo? Girl, phew!

Her unit was tastefully decorated. The walls a soft, off white adorned with expensive looking paintings and a few pictures of herself and others; siblings or friends. Flo wasn’t married and as far as I knew, never had been. I half expected to be greeted by two yapping dogs, the ones she was always giving updates on but, of course, that had been years ago, and animals don’t live as long as we do. The place was devoid of any other inhabitants and, with the new furniture, dominated by an overstuffed midnight blue sofa and matching loveseat, gave the appearance of being unlived in. Perhaps picking up on my observation, Flo said, Moved in two weeks ago. The furniture arrived just yesterday.

We had some catching up to do and Flo, ever the chatterer, was happy to do so. Not surprisingly, LenwahCom had gone out of business, but she’d become somewhat of the trusted go-to girl for the owners. So, they’d rebranded from Lenwah’s focus on computer systems integration to real estate development, dropped the trendy but not so fresh dotcom moniker and called themselves Lenwah, Incorporated. Different name, same management team which included her in the same role. And when that had fizzled, they’d rebranded into property management which is what they were doing now under the yet newer name of Lenwah Management.

Same ditzy owners! I don’t know how they keep going. They can barely tie their own shoes without me, Flo said with an exasperated roll of her eyes, but I could tell she was happy about it. She relished her role as the big cheese even if it were in a ratty company.

Art Miller from facilities had moved out west with his new wife. No, not the girl he used to bring to the functions. She finally got some sense and left him for a taxi driver. Do you believe that? Angela Morgan from marketing had tried to start her own thing and failed miserably. And who didn’t see that coming? Now she was doing something different for some landscaping company. Leslie Burris. Did I remember her? The girl who tried to move in on Flo’s territory but got demoted instead to assistant secretary then quit abruptly without giving notice? Well, believe it or not, she’d tried to reapply for a job at the company just two weeks ago! The audacity! Flo took great pleasure in telling me how she emphatically told the bosses, no.

On and on Flo went over a surprisingly delicious ham and cheese casserole from the previous night. Most of the people had long since crossed out of my mind. Some were people who were in our tight little group, others were just peripheral folks I’d paid little attention to even while I was there. Apparently, they were all still relevant and of great importance in Flo’s world of gossip. Quite frankly, it was becoming a bit of a bore and I was working on a way to make an early exit. But Flo had saved the best for last.

Now girl, I told you I had something to show you, right? You’re not going to believe it, she said, her eyes widening with excitement.

What is it? I asked, Flo’s energy filling the little dining room and I had to admit to feeling a little anticipation, myself. What could she possibly have that was so exciting?

Oh, the bundt cake! Flo exclaimed, jumping up from the table and dashing off to the kitchen. I almost forgot the bundt cake. Lemon! You want some? You gotta try this, almost ate the whole thing by myself last night. Deelish!

This took me back to my working days with her. When Flo was excited about food, you didn’t really get a chance to turn down what she was offering. You just sat there and waited for her to dish it up.

I could hear her fussing around in the kitchen before reappearing with two sizeable slices of thickly glazed cake. She plunked mine down in front of me and sat down in her own chair, still bristling with excitement. She waited a moment before speaking. I’d started in on my cake.

Now girl. Do you remember Anton?

Of course, I remembered Anton and the mention of his name made me stop chewing, momentarily, my eyes leaving the plate to look up at Flo. I’d tried not thinking about him lately and possibly would have been happier had he not been included in the conversation but now that he was, my heart involuntarily skipped a beat. Sufficiently satisfied with my reaction, Flo continued, smiling brightly.

Yes! That Anton. Anton ‘Freaking’ Epps! You remember him, of course you do! Everybody remembers that weirdo! And now Flo was in an almost ecstasy of excitement.

You saw Anton someplace? I managed to croak around my mouthful of cake, imagining Flo bumping into him the same way she bumped into me earlier although I thought it highly unlikely.

No girl, wait! And again, she flew out of her chair. This time she rushed down the hallway, into her bedroom. You remember Wanda Meeks, right? Flo said from her room, her voice muffled but still understandable.

I remembered Wanda well enough. She was part of our lunch group and sort of Flo’s unofficial second in command. "Yes, Wanda. Where is she now? She saw Anton?" I asked.

No girl, Wanda didn’t see him, well not directly. She’s in Hawaii now, married a college professor. Can you believe it? And now Flo was coming down the hallway with some papers in her hand. With a flourish, she slammed them down in front of me. Wanda told me about this, and I looked it up, myself. Printed it out like I knew I was going to run into you. Read!

What Flo sat in front of me looked like various clips from a magazine or a website, or both. They were clips about the Academy Awards which had recently taken place. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for. The first article seemed to be trashing much of the presentation, but Flo continued to stand over me, beaming as if she’d discovered lost treasure so I read on. Then I came to it. Glowing praise for the night’s ingenious graphics presentation. The magazine gave no name for the person responsible but the clips from the website did. A Mr. Anthony Epps, in partnership with a Hollywood studio had been the mastermind behind the well-received creations that some were calling the best part of the show.

Well? Flo asked after I was done. Does that just blow your mind or what?

"Wait a minute, how do we even know if that’s Anton? The article says Anthony. There’re a lot of Epps in this world and as I recall, Anton was his real name. It wasn’t short for anything else."

A lot of Epps who do graphics productions? Flo shot back. "Come on, girl. That has to be him, he just changed his name a little! Makes sense, considering."

Did you find pictures online? I was still skeptical. A bio? A Facebook profile? Anything like that?

No, Flo said, looking slightly deflated. Nothing on our Anton. A bunch of others but none who were graphic artists. Wanda saw his name in the credits! She perked up as if Wanda spotting his name somehow confirmed it must be him. "Look, do you remember what he told you? All those damn dreams? Who did he speak to last? That little pencil necked Joshua Allen, I think. Just before he vanished, took off. He was going to pull out of this town, he had big things cooking. Of course, we all knew he had to pull out of town. He was going to keep in touch but not with us, oh no. Only that pencil necked Joshua. Like what was so special about Joshua?"

I could have told Flo that Joshua had not been the last and only person Anton had confided in. That other person had been me. But no reason to let Flo in on that little tidbit. She was after all, a busybody, a gossip and a two-faced friend. You had to limit the amount of information you fed to the Florence Nobles of the world. I’d learned earlier from her that Joshua Allen, Senior Manager of Development was also still with Lenwah, a fact that didn’t make Flo happy. Well, has Anton kept in touch with Joshua?

Nope, not a word, she said. At least nothing Joshua will tell me.

Nor had Anton kept in touch with me. If Anton is playing in the big leagues, he shouldn’t be too hard to track down if that’s what you want.

Flo looked a bit dazed, her prior buoyancy considerably lessened. Why would I want to? she said, lazily. "Besides, I already tried a little and nothing. It’s just like that weirdo to appear then vanish again without a trace. Why should I try to track him?"

I don’t think it’s him, I offered.

Flo replied with a peculiar half laugh. Well, what do you think happened to him? Maybe you know. As I recall, the two of you were thick as thieves for a little while at least. Maybe you have an idea then.

I’ll tell you what I think. I think the little weasel settled down someplace. Took himself a nice, quiet little job in a quiet little company and doesn’t want to be bothered. That suits him a little better. All that big dream talk was just that: Talk.

Flo heard me but didn’t really hear me. Couldn’t even make a decent poster for us and now he’s out in Hollywood doing big video productions, she said. Remember those posters? Terrible things. I could have done better, myself.

I did remember the posters. They were the first graphics job Anton had been tasked with. I and everyone else except Flo thought they were

Reviews for Night Crawls and Sweet Dreams

[Robert Hemmings · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An interesting story with relatable characters and a satisfying end. Good show.