Julie Hartman, Julie Hartman
A Desperate Prequel
by
Nicholas Antinozzi
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicholas Antinozzi
Copyright (c) 2010 by Nicholas Antinozzi
Edited by Coleta Wright
Cover Design by Steve Peterson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Julie Hartman was having a bad day. There had been a hard freeze the night before and she slipped on the sidewalk, dumping her coffee and scraping the palms of her hands on the crumbling concrete; she got to her feet and brushed herself off. Julie could see Mike in the window; expressionless, and she remembered thinking that it really was a cold, cold world, after all.
Two hours later she was back. She had never been let go from any job in her life and she was unsure how to digest the news. It didn’t matter to her that it seemed like everyone was losing their jobs these days; things like this just didn’t happen to her. Six hours early, Julie pulled into the driveway of the rented little home she shared with her boyfriend, Mike Willow, and she felt her heart stop. Mike’s brother, Alan, was over and his blue Suburban was parked in her spot. The Suburban was connected to a moving trailer and the two brothers were loading things into it. Mike saw Julie and his face told the story.
Alan’s wife, Angie, was also there with her obnoxious black Hummer. The doors were open and she and another woman were loading the television into the back. Julie had paid for half of that flat screen and seeing Angie carelessly shove it into the back of the Hummer was enough to snap Julie out of her stupor. Mike was already headed in her direction, a phony smile plastered on his worried face. Julie slammed the retired police cruiser into park and flung open the door.
“Julie,” Mike said, holding his arms wide as if he intended to tackle her. “What are you doing home?”
Of all the things that he might have asked her, this was the worst possible choice. Julie lashed out with her hand and Mike was just barely able to avoid the slap. “What am I doing home?” Julie asked indignantly. “I live here, am I supposed to check in? I lost my job, they closed the shop; you worthless son-of-a-bitch. What the hell are you doing, Mike? What the hell are you doing?” A tear fell from her eye and she angrily brushed it away. Angie and her friend, a curvy little redhead, whom Julie had never met, returned inside the house for another load. Alan was walking over to join them and interrupt this most private of conversations.
“I’m going to ride things out with Alan and Angie. I’m sorry, Julie, I should have told you.”
Julie swallowed hard as reality set in. Alan and Angie lived in Rochester, Alan was a doctor at the Mayo and Angie sold insurance. Combined, the couple made more in a month than Mike and Julie made in a year. Angie didn’t like Julie, it had been obvious since the day they’d been introduced, and she’d been after Mike to leave Julie and move down to Rochester for years. It looked as if Angie was finally going to get her wish. Mike, an unemployed carpenter for the past six months, had been spending a lot of his weekends down there doing odd jobs for his brother, picking up some badly needed extra cash. Julie looked at the two Willow brothers and shook her head. “Yeah,” she said. “You might have mentioned it. Where do you think you’re going with the TV? I paid for half of that.”
Mike and Alan both turned to look at Angie’s Hummer. Alan spoke first. “Let her have it, Mike. We can go get you a new one down at Best Buy. Look Julie, let’s just try to make this easy on everyone, all right?”
Julie was determined not to let these people see how much she was hurt. She could feel her heart racing and the tears waiting behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth and nodded her head. “I’ll take the television, you can have the computer.”
Mike looked at her sheepishly and Julie knew that he had already packed the new computer away; another joint purchase of theirs. Julie gave him the eye and watched as Angie and her friend walked down the steps carrying cardboard boxes.
“Sweetie, there’s been a mistake,” Alan called to his wife. “Could you two bring the television back inside the house? Mike has decided to let Julie keep it.”
Angie, thirty pounds heavier than she’d been two years ago when she and Julie had first met; shrugged her shoulders and set her box on the wet grass of the lawn. Her friend followed suit and the two were soon carrying the flat screen back up towards the house. Julie couldn’t help but to smile.
“You see, Julie?” Mike asked. “We can do this the easy way, we don’t have to fight.”
Julie looked at him and suddenly it all became clear to her. He was right. There had always been something about Mike that wasn’t meant to be. Julie had known it from the beginning; she had just hoped that he’d grow out of it, whatever it was. This was the moment of her epiphany, when she finally realized why Mike would never be the man she had hoped he’d become. Mike Willow was no Jimmy Logan, nor would he ever be. Jimmy was Julie’s first true love, now Julie knew with absolute certainty that he’d been her only true love. Mike had been nothing more than a distraction.
There was a shriek and a crashing sound soon followed. Angie’s friend was lying on her back in the bushes next to the steps. The television was now only so much broken glass and black plastic. Angie’s friend moaned.
“Oh, my God,” said Alan. “Mike, grab my black bag out of the Suburban!”
Julie glared at Angie; she knew it had been no accident. Still, Angie gave an Academy Award worthy performance and Julie instantly knew that no one would believe that she had ruined her television on purpose. Mike fetched his brother’s bag and Dr. Alan charged in to the rescue.
The fallen woman’s name was Lea and she suffered minor scrapes and bruises, but nothing more. Angie apologized until Julie was sick of hearing it. Alan finally pulled out his wallet and gave Julie six crisp, one hundred dollar bills. “There,” he said. “That ought to cover your loss.”
Julie took the money from Alan without giving him the chance to reconsider. They had bought the television set for just under five hundred bucks; Julie figured the other hundred would cover her pain and suffering. Mike looked away, which was something that Mike did well. After cleaning up the mess, the moving crew went back to work and Julie plopped herself down on her sofa. The atmosphere was unpleasant and you could cut the tension with a knife. Julie didn’t care, she wasn’t going to make this easy and she certainly wasn’t going to help.
Angie and Lea continued to work under Mike’s supervision and soon the Hummer was fully loaded. Julie did catch Lea and Mike making eye contact on more than one occasion. They seemed to know each other; at least that’s how it looked to Julie. This knowledge did nothing to improve her mood.
Julie got up from the sofa and stood at the window. She watched as Angie and Lea said their good-byes; with Angie giving both of the brothers, big phony hugs. The little redhead named Lea stood there and Julie could see that there indeed was something going on between her and Mike. She read it in Mike’s body language. Julie felt her mouth grow dry and she stalked off into the kitchen. She didn’t care that it was still long before noon. She wanted a beer and a shot of tequila. She damn well was going to have one of each, and maybe more than that.
A few minutes later Mike and Alan walked into the house. Julie was standing in the kitchen, a room that had been left pretty much intact by the movers. She cracked the seal on a new bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold and poured herself half a shot. She then took a beer out of the fridge and twisted off the cap. She downed the shot and chased it with the beer, setting the bottle down on the counter just as Mike and Alan walked into the room.
“Do you know how bad that is for you?” asked Dr. Alan.
“Do you really think I give a shit?” Julie replied, holding the cold bottle of Bud to her lips and taking a long, satisfying drink. She then belched, just a little, but a belch just the same. Alan looked horrified. “Did they leave?”
“Yes,” answered Alan.
“Good.”
“Coffee, Alan?” Mike asked.
“Please.”
The telephone rang and Mike nearly ran over Julie to answer it. He looked at the caller ID and handed the phone to Julie as if it were a smelly sock. Julie answered the phone. The caller was her old friend, Brenda, a co-worker at Litton Companies. Brenda and Julie were polar opposites, but they had been friends since elementary school and were still fairly close, despite Mike’s attempts to keep the two apart. Brenda had a reputation.
Julie took the phone and her beer out onto the back steps. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds and it had already warmed ten degrees since she’d returned home.
“So, how did Mike take the news?” Brenda asked.
“He could’ve cared less.”
“What do you mean?”
“He and his brother are here and they’re packing Mike’s stuff. That bastard was going to slip out while I was at work today.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brenda asked, the anger growing in her voice. “What an asshole!”
“Tell me about it. You know what, Brenda? I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m starting to see Mike Willow for who he really is. I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on him. What are you doing right now? I’ve got a full bottle of Jose and a fresh case of Bud. Want to come over and get shit-faced?”
“I’m there, girlfriend. I’ve just got to stop and get some smokes. I’ll see you in a half an hour.”
“Thanks, Brenda. You’re a good friend.”
True to her word, Brenda arrived thirty minutes later. Mike and Alan were packing up things in the garage and they ignored her as she walked up to the house. She was of average height and half a decade past gorgeous. Indeed, Brenda could still turn heads, but not like she did when she was in her prime. Her bleached hair was stiff from bad perms and the cut was slightly out of style; Brenda’s perfect teeth were smoke stained and she carried an extra fifteen pounds in places that weren’t flattering. She looked tired and her choices in clothing made her look available, which also took away from her beauty. Brenda was the girl at the end of the bar that men found irresistible, but not until midnight. She was everything that Julie was not, but the two had somehow remained close, despite that fact. Where Julie was the girl next door, Brenda was the girl getting dropped off at her car in the VFW parking lot on Saturday mornings.
Julie and Brenda commiserated about losing their jobs over a shot and a beer. Brenda avoided the obvious subject, proving to be not only a good friend, but a wise one at that. They both could see the elephant in the room, and that was quite enough. Half an hour passed; Mike sheepishly walked into the kitchen and stood there until the women quit talking.
“I need to run into Saint Francis to pick up some tie-down straps for my motorcycle,” Mike announced, studying something on the toes of his boots.
“Knock yourself out,” replied Julie, icily.
“I just thought you should know.”
Julie turned away without responding and Brenda glared at Mike. Mike walked out and a few seconds later they heard the rumble of Mike’s Chevy as he fired it up. The home phone rang again and Julie picked it up.
“Hello?” Julie listened for a moment and she suddenly smiled. She cupped the receiver in her palm and whispered to Brenda: “It’s Uncle Nick, I haven’t heard from him since Christmas.”
Brenda held up her cigarettes and smiled. “I’m gonna go have a smoke.”
Julie, having a little glow on and missing her favorite uncle terribly, stayed on the phone for nearly half an hour. Brenda came inside once and drank straight from the bottle of tequila. She then returned outside and waited for Julie.
Julie joined her a few minutes later and apologized for talking so long. Brenda shrugged it off, lighting up another smoke. The two looked at each other for a long time.
“Uncle Nick says that the shit is about to hit the fan,” Julie said. “He says that the economy could crash any day. What are we going to do?”
Brenda studied Julie and she saw the first of many tears that were about to fall. Brenda had heard the rumors about the economy, and while she was no expert, she knew things were about to get very bad. Everyone did. What they didn’t know was that they couldn’t possibly imagine just how bad things would actually get. The shit would be turbocharged, and seemingly endless. Brenda took Julie into her arms and let Julie have a good cry.
Mike and Alan arrived all too soon and the two women went back into the house. Noon came and went; Julie suddenly realized that it was nearly four O’clock. The two women talked and drank as Mike packed up his life and he and Alan loaded it into the moving trailer. When the time came to say good-bye, Julie had a buzz on and she was cold to Mike’s lame attempt at an apology. Alan waited out in the Suburban.
“This isn’t cool, Mike,” said Brenda.
“This is none of your business,” replied Mike, awkwardly.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Julie. “Either of you; I’m a big girl; I can damn sure take care of myself.”
Alan began to tap the horn of the big SUV.
“Well, I guess this is it,” said Mike. “Good-bye, Julie. I’ll call you in a few days to see how you’re doing.”
“Don’t bother.”
Mike shook his head and he turned and walked away. A moment later the front door opened and closed and Mike was gone. Tears fell from Julie’s eyes and Brenda once again took Julie into her arms and hugged her tight. “Don’t worry, Jules,” she whispered. “Mike is leaving the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“I know that,” said Julie
Five minutes later, Julie was startled to hear the front door open and suddenly slam shut. Mike rushed into the kitchen. “What the hell did you do to Alan’s truck?” Mike asked, pointing at Julie accusingly. “It’s dead out on the highway.”
Julie narrowed her eyes and charged at Mike. “What the hell did you ask me?” Julie screamed at him. “Are you kidding me? Get the hell out of my house, you rotten asshole!”
“Whoa,” Mike said. “Hang on, I’m sorry. It’s just that Alan’s truck is dead on the road and we thought…”
“You thought what?” Julie asked; her face curling up into an indignant mask. “Do you really think that I want you here? Get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, man,” added Brenda. “You guys had better start walkin’.”
“Shit!” Mike shouted. “Give me the damn phonebook, I’ve got to call a tow-truck and get him towed into town. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” Julie said.
“Give me the damn phonebook or I swear you’ll be sorry.”
Julie looked at Mike and saw a man she had never seen before. Mike’s face was red and the veins in his neck were bulging out. He looked at her like a predator; callous and calculating. Julie looked to Brenda and she finally grabbed the phonebook from the drawer by her knees. She flung it at Mike and it hit him in the chest.
“Thank you,” he growled.
“Asshole,” replied Julie.
Julie and Brenda remained quiet as they watched Mike leaf through the pages. Mike then grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and placed his call, jamming his fingers into the keys with obvious frustration. He explained the problem and then rolled his eyes as he listened to the voice on the other end. With gritted teeth, he nodded his head. A moment later he slammed the phone back down on the counter.
“They’re sending a tow-truck,” he snapped. “We might have to spend the night.”
Now it was Julie’s turn to be angry. She slammed her fist down on the other side of the island-counter and she paced back and forth in front of the refrigerator. “Oh,” she moaned. “That’s just great. Don’t you dare think that you’ll be sleeping in my bed with me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.”
Mike left the same way that he had come and Brenda gave Julie a long look. “How about another shot?” Brenda asked, already reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila.
“Why not?” asked Julie.
Julie never drank like this. By five she was drunk; by six she was feeling queasy.
Mike and Alan had met the driver of the tow-truck and he had confirmed that there was nothing that could be done until morning. Alan called home from the basement phone. Brenda stood on the stairs and listened in; Julie was in the bathroom. When she heard Alan hand the telephone to Mike, her hands tightened into fists. While she wasn’t able to make out many of the words, Brenda knew that Mike wasn’t talking to his sister in-law. Mike Willow had another woman waiting for him in Rochester.
At half past six there was a knock at the door; Brenda answered it since Julie was still in the bathroom and Mike and Alan were in the basement. There was an angry man at the door.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded to know. He was short and round, with a smashed face and a full head of gray hair. He held his hands on his expansive hips.
“None of your damn business,” replied Brenda. “Who the hell are you?”
“I own this house. Mike’s behind on the rent and his check bounced. Where the hell is he?”
“He’s not here, either is Julie,” lied Brenda. “Do you want to leave a message?”
“Yeah,” replied the fat man. “Tell them to be out of here by Saturday. Here’s their Eviction Notice.” he said, shoving a paper into Brenda’s hand. “Make sure they get it.” He then gave her a look up and down, licked his lips, turned around and disappeared into the twilight.
Brenda studied the papers, growing angrier by the second. Not only was Mike bailing out on Julie, he obviously hadn’t been paying the rent, either. When Julie returned to the kitchen, she looked green and had a glistening sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“I don’t feel so good.”
“You look like shit,” Brenda said. “Jules, why don’t you go to bed? I’ll just crash on the couch.”
“Crouch,” mumbled Julie. “Yeah… I’m sorry.”
Brenda tucked Julie into bed, fully dressed, the distinct odor of vomit on Julie’s breath. She closed the door and walked into the bathroom. Carefully, she fixed her makeup and touched up her hair with Julie’s curling iron. Satisfied with the reflection in the mirror, she walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of tequila. She took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.
Mike and Alan were throwing darts and drinking beers. “Julie’s passed out,” she purred. “I don’t suppose either of you guys want to party, do ya?”
Mike shook his head, but Alan smiled and gave Brenda an appraising look. “Hand me the bottle,” he said.
An hour later the bottle was gone and Mike had lost his edge. He closed the upstairs door and turned on the stereo. Reaching into the recesses of the liquor cabinet, he produced a bottle of single malt scotch. With Toby Keith playing on the stereo, the brothers took turns dancing with Brenda. “I’m so drunk,” she said, stumbling along seductively. “I shouldn’t be doing this…”
Somewhere around nine, Julie stumbled to her feet and rushed back into the upstairs bathroom. She fell to her knees and got sick into the toilet. She stayed there for a long time, promising God that she would never drink tequila again. Half an hour later she crawled back into bed.
There was a full moon that night and things heated up rapidly in the little basement. “Brenda,” said Mike, his eyes half closed and his speech slurred. “You’re beautiful… Do you know that?”
Brenda smiled at Mike as they danced and she pulled him closer. The song ended and Dr. Alan broke in. He was every bit as drunk as his brother, but surprisingly, he was crude in his comments and made no mistake as to what his intentions were. Again, Brenda smiled and she planted a wet kiss on Alan’s lips. Alan held her tight and returned the kiss. Mike studied the pair and he paced the floor, waiting for the song to end. When it did, he shamelessly cut in on his brother. He grabbed Brenda by the waist and she smiled at him.
“Oh, Mike,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re so hot.”
“Lea sure thinks so,” Mike said, slurring the words and letting his hands wander over Brenda’s backside.
“Don’t you mean Julie?”
“No, I’m mean L-L-Lea…”
“How nice,” said Brenda, squeezing Mike’s butt, hard in her hands. “Ooh Mike, I’ve always wanted to be with you.”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Me too.”
Alan was suddenly pushing Mike out of the way as the song changed on the stereo. Brenda smiled and nibbled his earlobe. “Hello tiger,” she said.
Julie slept until after eleven O’clock the next morning. Brenda was already up, watching television and drinking coffee. There was no sign of Mike or Alan. Julie poured herself a cup of coffee and took two Tylenol; her hands shook and she prayed that she could keep them down. She sat down on the sofa; neither she nor Brenda spoke for a full minute.
“The guys?” Julie asked.
“Gone,” said Brenda. “They left an hour ago.”
Julie shook her head and sipped her coffee. “Bastards,” she mumbled.
“Yep,” Brenda replied.
Brenda and Julie made a pizza for lunch and they worked together around the house to make it seem whole once more. The longer Julie thought about what had happened, the happier she was that Mike had gone. She found that she hadn’t really loved him at all. Brenda let it slip that some girl named Lea was waiting for Mike down in Rochester. Julie nodded, and she told Brenda that she had suspected that yesterday.
Brenda left and Julie slept alone that night.
The following afternoon the telephone rang and Julie looked at the caller ID. It was Alan and Angie’s number. Julie hesitated before answering it. “Hello?”
“You rotten bitch!” shrieked Angie into the telephone. “How could you do that to me?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Julie asked, puzzled by the question.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about, you rotten bitch! Your friend gave my husband a case of the herpes! Herpes, did you hear me?”
“Give me a break,” said Julie.
“And now I’ve got them!”
Julie’s eyes got huge and she pulled the receiver away and stared at it. “Holy crap,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t believe you,” she said into the telephone. “Nothing happened that night.”
“Like hell nothing happened! Oh, and do you want to know what else, you dirty bitch? Mike has it, too! He gave it to Lea! Your friend managed to infect this entire household! I’m going to kill her, I promise you that. I’m going to make her suffer. There’s no cure for this shit, did you know that?”
Julie pulled the phone away from her ear and she pushed the end button. She set the phone down and stared at it for a long, long time. Finally, after thinking about what Angie had said and carefully choosing her words, she picked up the phone and dialed Brenda.
“Jules?” Brenda answered, somewhat sheepishly.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Julie said. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
“Okay…”
“Thank you. What you did the other night, it worked. Doing that was mean and they hate you for it, but…thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” replied Brenda in a quiet voice.
And the two friends would never speak of it, ever again.
If you found this prequel enticing, discover three more tantalizing quick reads: Jon, Ken’s Tale & the Peterson Dilemma and Bill Huggins; follow these up with the most incredible journey into what could be…Desperate Times by Nicholas Antinozzi at Smashwords.com