Read Online From The Dead by John Herrick - Free Book Online Page B

“Then who the fuck
is Caitlyn?”
    “Who? Why are you asking me this?”
    “Your dream. You had a bad dream last night and said
her name.”
    “Wait, you’re telling me this is all about a dream ?! You’re holding me accountable for my dreams ?!”
    “They come from all that subconscious crap, right?
You must know a Caitlyn or be thinking about a Caitlyn!”
    “How many times have you flirted with any producer
you think could give your career a boost? You can never swallow
what you dish out!” Jesse could feel his ears turn scarlet. He took
a deep breath, then held up his hands and exhaled. “I’m not doing
this right now. I don’t need this shit so early in the day.”
    Jesse stormed out of the room. Jada got up for a
refill.
     
     
    CHAPTER 13

     
    He felt miniscule compared to the expanse of the
ocean.
    Small.
    Insignificant.
    Atypical of southern California, the overcast sky
featured ashen overtones today. From a window, one would think it a
winter afternoon. The beach was desolate and, at the moment,
belonged to Jesse alone.
    Jesse loved Malibu. The oceanfront community didn’t
feel as commercialized as Santa Monica down the road. He loved to
cruise northward along the two-lane Pacific Coast Highway as it
wound through the area. The road ran parallel to a series of high
hills, rolling plumes of greenery where white mansions sat nestled.
While Malibu’s cost of living was much higher than that of Sherman
Oaks, walking the shoreline was free and Jesse escaped here to
contemplate, to dream.
    Jesse pondered his previous argument with Jada. Her
words had dealt him a severe blow. In spite of her blunt accusation
and lack of tact—both characteristic of Jada—to hear that she
considered their intimacy less than satisfactory had sunken
straight to the bottom of his soul. The last thing a man wanted to
hear from his partner was that she was bored and he was the
cause.
    He had clung to her for so long that he’d forgotten
why. It wasn’t habit per se, nor could he attribute it to genuine
love. But in recent days, as the prospects of life caved in around
him, he needed her—she was the one constant factor in his life.
Perhaps that made no difference to Jada, but he appreciated the
security. Did that make him feel like a failure? Yes. Did it
tarnish his sense of masculinity? Absolutely. Although unspoken, in
this honest moment he had to admit it was true.
    The breaking waves welcomed him. Jesse removed his
shoes and socks. Camera in hand, he wandered barefoot across the
fine, ivory sand and walked to where the water’s edge ebbed and
flowed. When it retreated back to sea, the savory water abandoned
its bubbling, salty foam to reveal smooth, damp sand that begged
for a fresh layer of footprints. Jesse halted. He closed his eyes
to savor the chilled Atlantic water as it massaged the tops of his
feet and hurled sand granules between his toes. He listened to the
hypnotic undulation of the breakers and the squawks of seagulls
that cried ownership of the scene.
    Serene. That’s the word he would use to describe this
ambience. This is why he had come.
    When he opened his eyes, he absorbed the sight once
more, then took a photograph of serenity. While the sky above
reflected how he felt inside, the steady motion before him
communicated what he sought to feel inside. The ocean seemed
to hold a spiritual quality: untamed yet predictable. Larger than
life. Jesse’s father, in preacher fashion, said God could be seen
in nature. So where was God in times like this? Where was God as
Jesse’s future unraveled and he tried to hang on by his
fingernails?
    Jesse had to think of something. He couldn’t lean on
Jada for validation. It made him feel like a loser.
    He held up the camera again, waited for a large
breaker to mount in the distance, and clicked.
    “Are you a professional?”
    Apathetic, Jesse glanced at the figure that
approached him. Grasping a camera made him appear an expert, while
busting his ass for eleven