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Even the Score
Even the Score
Even the Score
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Even the Score

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Lone surviving soldier, Marcus "Smoke" Clay, returns home after a botched secret military mission; the consequences having menacing global ramifications. Arriving back to the neighborhood he once knew, Smoke finds a charged environment of drugs and crime. Smoke seeks out his mentor, retired Vietnam veteran and community shelter manager Stubie Smith, now targeted by the Moore Brothers, proprietors of a nearby pub "The Laid-Back Lounge", for alleged criminal activity within the community. Caught in-between the home conflict. Smoke can no longer stand on the sidelines; his intervention is needed which fuels a series of combustible confrontations between himself and the Moore Brothers. Beyond going against the decadent ills plaguing his neighborhood, Smoke eventually finds his exploits leading him back to the looming catastrophic circumstances that threatens the entire planet! "EVEN THE SCORE" is the first in a trilogy that brings the reader into the gritty, violent and dangerous scenarios that becomes the templates for Marcus "Smoke" Clay"; he is an imperfect hero, of an imperfect world on the edge of destruction! Can he save it, and not lose himself within the process?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 31, 2018
ISBN9781641388948
Even the Score

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    Book preview

    Even the Score - Milton Joseph Mcclendon

    Even the Score

    Milton Joseph Mcclendon

    Copyright © 2018 Milton Joseph Mcclendon

    All rights reserved

    First Edition

    Page Publishing, Inc

    New York, NY

    First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

    ISBN 978-1-64138-893-1 (Paperback)

    ISBN 978-1-64138-894-8 (Digital)

    Printed in the United States of America

    Dedicated to Mom, Daniel Lamar and The Lamar Family, Smitty, Mr. Perkinson, Ms. Young, Dr. Bufanio, Mr. Purnel, Peter Voystock, Todd Delevan, The Perimeter, Veterans Multi - Services & Education Center, Impact Services, Hasan Nasir, Andre’ Rodriguez, VA Medical Center, Dr. Susan Moslow, Dr. Ahmad-Stout and all those that have supported my efforts throughout the years...my heartfelt gratitude and blessings!

    (FULL FRAME SHOT)

    On a cold rainy October night, a man can be seen walking across the platform of a dimly lit transit train station . . . a duffel bag is slung over his shoulder. The rain continues to come down even harder.

    The man, MARCUS SMOKE CLAY, recently discharged from active military duty, crosses the street, familiar with the dark damp territory . . . he is home. He begins jogging until he arrives upon an old brick building; slightly dilapidated in structure, a halfway house for the homeless, forgotten soldiers and the unwanted. This refuge is managed by an old acquaintance of his, STUBIE SMITH, a handicapped veteran of the Vietnam War. Hesitantly, SMOKE approaches the door entrance . . . he looks over the building’s exterior . . . takes a deep breathe . . . then knocks on the door. There is no response. SMOKE once again begins to knock on the door when he hears a rustling, fumbling noises coming from the other side of the door . . . then silence . . . then a stern yet low and weary voice is heard . . .

    STUBIE

    Who is it? (Then silence again.)

    SMOKE

    It’s me, open up.

    The doorknob slowly turns; the door partially opens revealing a glimpse of an old man’s face behind the inner door’s sliding lock links, the old man’s blood-shot eye scanning the unexpected visitor’s frame until his woe-worn vision registers the image of a long gone acquainted friend.

    STUBIE

    (Puzzled.) Is that you?

    SMOKE

    (Tone of endearment.) Yes, Stubie, it’s me. (Stubie flings the door open.)

    STUBIE

    (With heartfelt emotion.) Smoke! Smoke! Get in here! (They embrace.) You sly slick motherfucka!

    SMOKE

    (Warmly.) How are doing, Stubie?

    STUBIE

    Besides the reward I got from Nam (Stubie motions to his decapitated left leg.) and the bullshit pension from the government, I’m cool and the gang. (They walk into the living room, Stubie using a crutch to get around.) Been holding down this piece of shit since you left . . . (pause). Let me look at cha . . .

    Come on, come on sit down (gleefully smiling). Now how have you been?

    SMOKE

    I’m OK . . . You know, trying to put my life back together, forgetting what happened overseas . . . you know . . .

    STUBIE

    Listen, fuck all that, Smoke . . . you’re home now . . . so got any plans? What you wanna do? Jobs here are hard to get!

    SMOKE

    I haven’t thought that far, Stubie. I just want to chill for a minute.

    STUBIE

    That’s cool, and you know you’re always welcomed to stay here, so take all the time you need. You want something to eat?

    SMOKE

    Naw, I’m cool, Stubie. Thanks.

    STUBIE

    Ahh, come on in the kitchen and let me fix you something. (Now looking inside kitchen cabinets as Smoke is looking outside through the kitchen window.)

    SMOKE

    Things sure look a whole lot different.

    STUBIE

    Shit! Things are still the same; it’s the people that are different. I ain’t seen so many different people in my life; Puerto Ricans, Indians, Orientals popping up with mom and pop stores all over the motherfucking place . . . Korean restaurants on every other goddamn corner.

    SMOKE

    Come on, Stubie, they’ve been here when I was a young buck. I grew up eating their food.

    STUBIE

    (Preparing to sit down, placing a loaf of bread and a plate of beans and rice at the kitchen table.) Yeah, whatever. Hey, you remember Mr. Moore’s Store?

    SMOKE

    (Now eating a mouthful of food.) Yeah, what about it?

    STUBIE

    Well, Mr. Moore died about two years ago, and those two no-good sons of his took the store and turned it into some seedy crooked dope-drug house and hoochie bar, playing all that hippy hop music all night long, loud and shit! Just some ignorant motherfuckers!

    SMOKE

    (Smoke smiling, shaking his head.) Stubie, you sound like some old nosey lady.

    STUBIE

    Shiiit! You would be too! All types of young people coming and going, doing God knows what! I’m telling you, Smoke, ever since those Moore brothers took over that store, ain’t nothing good come of it! The neighborhood seems to have gotten worst.

    SMOKE

    Come on, Stubie, things change.

    STUBIE

    Yeah, but shiiit! Can it be a good change for once?

    Drug dealers and

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