The Silent Partner by Terrence King

Author:Terrence King [King, Terrence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466916388
Publisher: Trafford Publishing
Published: 2012-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

It was undeniable that he encountered resistance at every angle in everything, so Tom was forced to consider the possibility that he was his own biggest enemy. He was making his own choices, but they were clearly bad ones.

Rounding the corner outside the conference arena, he ran into Homer holding two hot dogs from a stand nearby. Globs of catsup, mustard, relish, and onions were stacked on both of them, remnants of each on her chin after just one bite.

“God, you’re everywhere,” Tom said.

“Funny how it is, Thomas,” Homer deadpanned. She found the fusion of condiment flavors and odd meat invigorating.

Tom stopped. “I never learned your name.”

“God Damn is fine,” she said absently, using her sleeve to wipe the catsup running down her chin. “Call me that.” She licked mustard and onions off one of her fingers and dropped a hot dog onto the pavement. Ugh. Reluctantly, she let the tubular meat roll down the pavement so to put her attention on Tom before he was gone again.

A rumble started to increase in volume, Tom and passersby never hearing it.

She laughed nervously. “Just kidding.” The rumbling subsided. “Homer. Call me Homer.” Although she knew better than to kid about taking God’s name in vain, she wasn’t sure if those Ten Commandments—pesky to so many humans—applied to angels. She never had asked God about that. Safeguarding her lone hot dog, Homer outstretched her freshly licked hand to Tom.

“Nice to meet you,” he winced, deciding not to shake her hand. “Everywhere.”

She shrugged and took another sloppy bite.

“So you know where I am all the time,” he said. “Are you following me? Searching through my garbage too?” He wasn’t sure what to do about this stalker.

“Ah, interesting story. Though I just stole these hot dogs from an unsuspecting vendor, so if you see some vengeful security guards seeking payment, let me know. Want to sit down with me? I’ll give you half. It’s so hard for me to eat these things standing up. Amazing what you do with food these days,” she said, gesturing toward a bus bench a few yards away.

He started to follow her and realized, “I can’t.” He read the time on his phone. “I was hoping to get in front of some agents or publishers today, but since they won’t let me in the building, I’d better get to the office.”

She sat on the bench. “So you’re a writer,” she said, playing it up as a revelation. This was her chance to try to get through to him. “I’ve always wanted to write.”

“Yeah?” Tom asked, uninterested.

She eyed him carefully. Bored mortals had the worst attention spans. “Enough about me. Any criticisms on your work yet?” She took a huge bite of her hot dog, her round cheeks ballooning with moisture-resistant bread.

“Not any worthwhile ones,” he said, unsure how to read her. This wasn’t your average homeless woman, though he didn’t know any other homeless women to compare her against.

“Maybe you should change something in it. Anything you can improve on? Do what you need to do to get your work read.

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