The Van in My Mind: A collection of short stories.

By Anthony Vano

'The Van In My Mind' presents four short stories featuring desperate people at a crossroads--grappling for meaning, purpose, and second chances.

In "Angel In Vegas," a burned-out, numbed-out, mid-career advertising exec named Gus meets a mysteriously congenial soul at a Las Vegas casino. Can the old man persuade Gus to recover his spark--before it's too late?

Motivational speaker and guru "Frank the Tank" peddles self-help and business advice to sold out arenas. If audiences understood Frankie's dubious past, would they still flock to his books and seminars?

A mainstay supermarket chain goes bankrupt, plunging a former employee into reflection and introspection. Meet the mostly-dysfunctional employees and customers who shaped the protagonist's formative years in "A&P: A Eulogy."

In "Samurai Deadhead," a late-career kickboxer meets a rock 'n' roll legend who draws him a map to a buried treasure. After the musician's death, the martial artist sets out on a transformative quest to recover the goods. But is there any treasure to be found? Or was it all just a cruel joke?

Touching on themes of failure and success, despair and hope, darkness and light, 'The Van In My Mind' will remind you the greatest obstacles are often the ones we create.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: May 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781456637453

Book preview

cover-image, The Van in My Mind

The Van in My Mind

A collection of short stories.

by

Anthony Vano

Copyright 2021 Anthony Vano,

All rights reserved.

Published by eBookIt.com

http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3745-3

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Contents

The Van in My Mind

Angel in Vegas

Frank the Tank

A&P: A Eulogy

Samurai Deadhead

The Van in My Mind

One morning, about two years ago, while driving to work on the New York Thruway (I-87 North), I spotted a white customized van with tinted windows, slick tires, and shiny chrome rims. Custom artwork adorned each of the back doors. On the left, a focused samurai holding a long sword with both hands, ready to attack,. On the other door, the skull from the Grateful Dead’s Steal Your Face album cover.

The juxtaposition of the samurai and the Grateful Dead logo captivated me. I wanted to know more about that van.

Who is driving?

Where is he going?

What’s inside?

Transfixed on the van and the questions it posed to my imagination, I missed my exit. The mystical van had me in a hypnotic trance. The van never left my mind. I pondered it frequently. I meditated upon it like a koan.

Over time, unique characters and concepts bubbled up to my consciousness. Some of them related to the van, and some not. The characters and concepts grew and blossomed. I put pen to paper, not knowing what might unfold, but trusting the process.

Eventually, it clicked. The stories emerged and took shape.

Within these pages, you’ll find four short stories. I finished the writing process during the COVID-19 lockdown. Focusing my attention on the stories provided a productive distraction during those confusing and scary times.

It feels gratifying to release this creation—to let the van drive out of my head, and into your mind, where it can continue its journey.

Buckle up—we’re going for a ride.

Angel in Vegas

Gus sat at the bar with his coworkers. With the convention behind them, they could enjoy some relaxation together in Las Vegas. Gus mingled with his coworkers as best he could. He forced a smile. He laughed along with his co-workers’ jokes, even when the cacophony of music, voices, and the whirl of the slot machines had drowned out the punchline.

He felt like a stranger among them. Hell, he felt like a stranger to himself. The aftershocks of his recent divorce left him numb. Any passion he had for his work had dissipated long ago. After twenty-one years with the company, he ran on fumes, doing just enough to justify his existence. Or at least avoid getting fired.

The chair blocker. That’s what his co-workers called him behind his back. They expected Gus to stay in his role until he retired, preventing someone else from advancing.

At forty-six years old, he felt like half the man who joined the firm at twenty-five. Back then, he worked out four days a week. Joined the gang for beers after work. He worked hard to climb the corporate ladder. But life caught up with him along the way. The failed marriage left him decimated, and he hardly even cared that his career hung by a thin thread. He discovered rock bottom had lower floors.

After a few drinks and shots, Gus’ coworkers decided to get out of the convention hotel and explore the infamous Strip.

You coming along, G? asked Robert, the office’s alpha male bully. He asked in a sarcastic tone as he assumed Gus would decline.

Nah, said Gus, not lifting his eyes from the beer bottle before him. I’m going to hang out here, have a few more drinks, and then head back to my room. Early flight tomorrow.

Well, okay then, G, Robert responded with mockery.

He downed his last shot and slammed it on the bar with force. Startled, Gus flinched—exactly the reaction Robert had hoped for.

C’mon, boys and girls, let’s bounce, said Robert.

After a moment, Gus peeked over his shoulder and watched a half dozen of his colleagues walk away in Robert’s shadow.

Early flight tomorrow . . . he heard Robert saying, imitating his tone and body language.

His coworkers howled like a pack of wolves.

Bunch of sheep, Gus thought to himself as his co-workers rounded the corner, disappearing into the casino crowd. The noisy slot machines and surrounding chatter lulled him away from thoughts of their cruelty.

Twelve years younger than Gus, Robert was a rising a star at the company. He only had five years on the job, compared with Gus’ twenty. But he made sure everyone knew about his MBA—he wore it like a halo of irreproachability. If it had been ten years earlier, Gus would have told him to watch his tone or else he’d catch an ass whooping. But that guy was long gone. He asked the bartender for another beer and a chilled shot of Southern Comfort.

He picked up the shot and tilted his head back. The fruity sweetness cut the sharp burn of the alcohol, though he still shook his head as it slid down his throat. He chased it with a swig from the bottle of beer. His thoughts turned to his wife. She still was