Not NEAR DONE! I just wanted some quick suggestions etc.
Prologue
Dear Mr. O Ryan,
I am sorry to inform you that I will not be attending the Mrs. O Ryan’s funeral. I have something important to do. I have lost my life with drugs, and murders, I cannot take it anymore. I am sorry to say that the next funeral you attend will be mine. I don’t want to explain, and I hope that you will remember me in a way that no one can describe. Because you were the person I was closest to in my life, besides Rhonda. I have two very good reasons not to do this, one of them is Rhonda, the other is my cat. Rhonda will understand, she tried this a while ago, did she tell you that? Well anyway, I hope she lives a long and happy life. Lives is the key word. I don’t want her to go crazy because of me, she doesn't deserve it, I have cheated, lied, and done much more harm to her then she deserves. Tell her I am sorry.
- John Dran London
P.S. I love you. And sorry for you loss, both of them.
Chapter 1.
And there it was. Taped to his apartment door. Labeled, Mr. O Ryan. I couldn’t keep it, I quickly threw it in the kitchen trash. John London, my favorite employee. More like a son. He had been with me since 1990 or so. I had been arguing with him the past week. He wanted to quit. But I wouldn’t let him. He needed the money. Rhonda needed the money. Rhonda was his fiancé. They had been together since I met John. Rhonda had the prettiest blue eyes, with bright blonde hair. A bit on the chubby side, but she was still radiant. John was rather buff. Always went to the gym. He had very dark hair, with light brown eyes. Handsome man.. His mother died the year I received this letter. The year he started with the drugs. I talked to him, a lot. Sort of a therapy. But deeper. We shared our feelings. Not told them. Once or twice, he went clean for a week or two. I was proud those weeks. But there was too much stress in his life. He couldn’t help it. They were just there, for the taking. He didn’t need money. He sold them. That’s the day I worried a bit more. When he told me he had sold a package to this gang. It sort of slipped out. An accident. He apologized, and said he would stop. He didn’t want to be killed. I believed him. Going out one day, with Mrs. O Ryan, we passed by this dark alley, John there, standing, smoking a cigarette. He was holding a large bag. A sports bad, like he had just came from the gym. I could tell he hadn’t. You could see his beard hadn’t been shaved in a while, and his shirt dirty with cheeto stains. I went up to him. Mrs. O Ryan walking with me. John looked at me. Then said, “What. Are you following me around now, Old man?” I looked at him. Cocked my head, and walked away with Mrs. O Ryan in my hand. She looked puzzled.
“What was that about, Drake?” I looked at her. “Drugs.” She looked behind at John. “What a shame.”
I said, “Yes, a shame.”
Chapter 2.
A couple of days later, he came to my office. He said he had bad news. “Tell it.” I said. He was hesitate.
“Okay.” I sat down. Ready for the worst. Not knowing that the worst was coming. “Its. About Darla. I mean- um, Ms. O Ryan.”
“Lord, nothings happened to her, right?”
“No - not - not yet..”
“Not yet? What do you mean, John?”
“She came by the alley today, to talk with me. I – I didn’t mean for her to..”
“For her to what?”
“ She got into an – an argument with a man. A – a drug addict..” He said it so quietly I couldn’t hear him.
“A what? With who?” I said. Looking at him, angrily, but calm.
“An argument.” He said it this time louder. Braver. “With a man. A – A drug addict. Look – I –”
“John! How – how could you let her? Why would you, I just don’t get it? Please – please John, explain.”
“She wanted to talk to me about – about your birthday party. “ He hung his head. “I told her it want a good idea for her to be around, you know, those parts of town.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
“ But, a man, came up to me and started talking. Mrs. O Ryan told him that it was rude to interrupt people when they talked. Well, the man – he – told her to watch her back. And this guy was, he was serious. “
“John, I don’t I can’t believe you. Where is she now?” My eyes teared up. I held them back.
“ She’s safe, she went shopping with Rhonda. I wanted to make sure you knew. I- I just-”
“Oh, so now a 57 year old man can protect his wife from a – what? – 25 year old gangster? Do you believe I can do that? Do you really? I was angry and sad at the same time. I shouldn’t have yelled at him.
Chapter 3.
“No, of course not. I'm sorry. “He said, starting to cry.
“I’m sorry John. Can you just – call Rhonda’s cell? I want to see Darla.”
“Of course.” He was hurt. I felt bad for yelling at him. That day, I let him quit. Which I shouldn’t have. The next day, while I was talking to Darla, that nothing would happen to her, and that she was safe, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” Darla yelled. We were in the living room drinking herbal tea she has brewed.
“Mr. O Ryan? Mrs. O Ryan?” A voice called.
“Yes, that’s us.” I called back.
“It’s Rhonda. I can’t – Where are you two?”
“Living Room dear!” Darla answered.
“I’ll be right there. It’s about John. He’s not –” She said as she walked into the living room.
“Home.” She finished.
“Not home? Honey, isn't he at work?” Darla said.
“That’s why I came over here. To see if he was.” Rhonda added.
“No, He quit yesterday, I finally gave in, and didn’t lecture him on staying, and having a job. I was too angry with him. When did he leave, Rhonda?”
“About 8 this morning. I thought he had gone to work..”
“I’ll check the gym?” I suggested.
“Great. I’ll look in the alley. Rhonda, come with?”
“Yes. I will. Those are the places he visits most.”
We split up. That was the biggest mistake of my life. I walked over to the gym, a block away, not that long. I looked over the gym. Nope. No sight of John anywhere. I walked out. Glancing at the alley Rhonda and Darla had gone to. BOOM. I heard. BOOM. Another. I ran to the alley.
“Darla! Rhonda!” I was calling. “Darla!”
“Drake! I mean – Mr. O Ryan! She’s been shot!!” I heard Rhonda call. I fell to my knees. I cried. I sat there and cried. Rhonda ran by me. “I called 911. They are coming.”
“How –” I couldn’t get any words out. Rhonda was crying too. We were holding each other. I was about ready to die. I couldn’t though. Darla wouldn’t want it. BOOM another shot. But the ambulance was already there. What was that? Out comes John, holding a gun. He was shooting into the air, as if he was on Ecstasy.
“JUSTICE!” He yelled. “DRAKE! MR. O RYAN! I’M SORRY! RHONDA! I LOVE YOU!”
BOOM. “He shot himself. When we retuned to the apartment, the letter was on the door. I was afraid to open it. Rhonda and I had lost our best friends. Both of them. We held each other, as I read out loud. “Dear Mr. O Ryan.”
Chapter 4.
A year later, Rhonda and I talked. We went out to lunch. She was talking about how much she missed me, and what a big help I was. To her, to John. Rhonda and I had lived together for about 8 months now. We helped each other through out horrible time. She was like Darla, in many ways. It was like we were in love, except not with each other, with each other's best friends. We sat there and talked. I looked at her. That moment, I saw Darla. I said,
“I love you. Just try. Just try to move on.” She said to me,
“I did. And I love you too.” “Thank you, Rhonda. Well, enough chit chat. Let’s go see a movie, you up to it?” I said.
“Sounds good, but first can we stop by the alley? I would like to put flowers on the cross?” Rhonda answered, obviously worried about going alone.
“Yea, let’s stop by.” We walked to the alley, only a block or two away from our old apartment. We had to move away, to a small home, just around the corner kind of place. I grabbed a flower from the patch of yellow daises next to the coffee shop by the alley. Rhonda grabbed two. I put the flower I had gotten on top of Darla’s cross, engraved in it was “ Darla, a wife, a friend, a mother.” Rhonda put her two on top of John’s cross, which was engraved, “John Dran London, We’ll see you in Heaven.” This was Rhonda’s idea. Rhonda stared at the cross for a while, and then she gave a confused look. She looked at me.
“Why, Drake is there more flowers here?” she pointed a little bit left of the cross, two white withered, were there.
“I don’t know. Angels.” This was an expression Rhonda and I used, Angels, it meant that Angels were watching over us, and they left us signs. The white roses were one.
“Angels.” Rhonda said. She blew a kiss to the cross and looked at me, like she wanted to leave right away, something was bothering her.
“What is it?” I said. “We’re gonna miss the 1:00 showing, were should hurry.” Rhonda replied.
Chapter 5.
“What? You usually want to stay longer. Anyway, I don’t feel quite well anymore. I would like to go home.” I said. Confused as to why she would want to go so soon. I looked at my watch; it was only 12:15. The theater was 10 minutes away. Why was she so worried? What had made her so scared? That night I was at home, we were watching Court TV, a case in which a man’s best friend murdered his husband, similar to what happened with John. Very similar to what happened with John. I thought about what happened, the note on the door, etc. Wait – The note on the door, It had said, I am sorry I cannot be there for Ms. O Ryan’s funeral. How did he know? He killed her, an accident wasn’t it? We figured it was. He wouldn’t have intentionally killed her? Would it be considered murder? No, John wouldn’t have, no. No. I walked over to my room, talking out one of the notes John had written me a couple days before the incident. I also took out the letter left on the door for me a year ago. I compared the writing. The note:
Drake, I need you to pick up Rhonda from work. I have to work late,
Thank you,
John
He always signed his name in bubble letters. The letter:
Dear Mr. O Ryan,
I am sorry to inform you that I will not be attending the Mrs. O Ryan’s funeral. I have something important to do. I have lost my life with drugs, and murders, I cannot take it anymore. I am sorry to say that the next funeral you attend will be mine. I don’t want to explain, and I hope that you will remember me in a way that no one can describe. Because you were the person I was closest to in my life, besides Rhonda. I have two very good reasons not to do this, one of them is Rhonda, and the other is my cat. Rhonda will understand, she tried this a while ago, did she tell you that? Well anyway, I hope she lives a long and happy life. A life is the key word. I don’t want her to go crazy because of me, she doesn't deserve it, I have cheated, lied, and done much more harm to her then she deserves. Tell her I am sorry.
- John Dran London
P.S. I love you. And sorry for you loss, both of them.
I looked it over again.
John Dran London
That wasn’t right. John couldn’t have written the letter, it wasn’t John in the alley. They never called us to identify the bodies. We figured it was them, he yelled my name, and who else could it have been?
Chapter 6
“Rhonda! Rhonda! John isn’t dead! He’s not!!!” I yelled through the halls. I was too happy. Never mind. I wasn’t too happy, I wasn’t happy enough.
