Work Hard In Silence And Let Success Make The Noise
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I was born and raised in a small town called Davenport. It’s located about ten miles north of Kansas City, Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi River. Growing up there you learn early that life isn’t as easy for everyone else but we had our own version of normal to live out every day. We were surrounded by fields and farmland; some of it owned by my family, while most of it belonged to farmers who rented land from us. When I got older though things would change drastically around me when I moved away at seventeen to attend the University of Missouri where I received an undergraduate degree in Business Administration with a minor in Communications.
My first job after graduation came quickly and easily: I became an assistant manager at my family’s sporting goods store called Sportsman’s Warehouse. My mother and sister both worked there so they gave me an opportunity to get into management early, even before I graduated college. I worked hard at it but eventually decided to leave my hometown behind, taking a position working as an auditor at one of the Big Four accounting firms—PwC to be exact. After several years of doing well, I was promoted through the ranks and took a job managing a branch office in Dallas for another large firm specializing in business consulting.
It wasn’t until I met her that everything changed for me. Her name is Jessica DeLuca and she owns a restaurant just outside of Chicago called A Taste Of Heaven. She was born in New York but grew up in Florida, which made her a rare breed of girl down south, being half Cuban. But no matter how much my friends teased me about dating a Yankee (and still do sometimes), nothing will ever make me forget those four days on a beach in Florida or all the time I spent sitting next to a bonfire watching her laugh with her best friend Rachel over a bottle of tequila during our road trip to Key West, or even the way she looked at me from across the table that night as we shared sushi in Seattle after seeing the sights around Pike Place Market…
I know what you’re thinking. She’s probably beautiful, right? And yeah, she was absolutely gorgeous, but it was more than that; there was something special about her smile, the way she spoke to me with her eyes, and how sweet and kind she could be. It wasn’t just a physical attraction either: I think I fell in love with her soul. That’s how she touched me. She knew my secrets, she saw inside of me like none other. I’d never felt anything close to it since moving away from my hometown and meeting a lot of people who didn’t care.
She taught me to be open and not judge someone based on appearance. I think this is where I lost some of the good guys because it happened so fast and nobody seemed ready for how intense we became. I’ll never forget the day we finally admitted our feelings for each other or the conversation I had with my mom on my birthday two months later when I told her that I loved Jessica too much to walk away, but that if she wanted me to, I would move to Chicago without hesitation. She smiled back at me and said, “You’ve always been stubborn, Paulie, but I’m glad to see you found someone who makes you happy.”
There was a long pause between us when she asked if I thought our relationship was going to last forever. There weren’t any doubts in my mind. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t. Instead, I told her what she needed to hear that day: “I believe it will be the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself,” I replied.
She kissed me then and the rest is history. We married three years later, lived happily together for almost a decade before I got laid off from PwC a couple years ago, which set me on a path of self-discovery I can honestly tell you I never expected to happen.
The truth is I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out why I haven’t achieved anything great yet, despite the fact that I know I have the talent and drive to do big things in life. So far, I’ve managed to find the answers but only when I look closely at myself. You see, when you live in a small town and go to school and work within fifty miles of your house all growing up, it tends to limit you in terms of who you meet and how you interact with others. It creates a sense of separation and keeps people separate instead of building friendships outside of your immediate circle. It’s also hard for a single person to really become popular unless you’re in sports or music, which leaves very few places for someone like me who loves books and writing.
As an avid reader and writer, I feel a connection to every character I read about and write. They are my friends and I often wish I could talk to them about their lives. It doesn’t help that my wife is such a strong woman herself. She’s beautiful, smart, and has more compassion than most people should possess, which is why I’ve always looked up to her even though we didn’t date until many years after we met.
Jessica and I talked about kids a few times but I don’t think it’s possible right now. The thing about being a business professional is that there tend to be a lot of late nights when deadlines need to be met and work comes first. When I’m working on a project, I can put in twelve hours a day without stopping for food or water. Sometimes I don’t realize how hungry and thirsty I am until I get home. It’s not healthy but it’s not my fault. It’s what I signed up for and I’m damn good at it.
But when the work was done and my wife was gone somewhere else doing something important, I used to spend a lot of my free time with my favorite author, William Goldsmith. He’d invited me over for dinner once, but I hadn’t been able to make it as I’d been too busy working. Since the invitation, he’d kept in touch via email, phone calls, and letters, always sending along his latest novels to read and discuss. We were becoming friends and I loved hanging out with him, talking about writing, and sharing ideas. I even sent him a few pieces of mine that I thought might interest him to edit or use as part of an upcoming book or collection; he was incredibly supportive of everything I wrote and made suggestions that helped me improve my craft.
We were both struggling artists, just trying to make our way through life, but I knew Bill would eventually achieve a level of success that would bring him to the attention of editors and publishers. And when that happened, my name would be included because we were friends. In fact, I felt that one day soon, we would share in the royalties of whatever he published, maybe even work on a joint project together. That was my plan anyway.
One night, when I received an email from Bill asking if I was okay because he hadn’t heard from me since he sent the manuscript for the new novel, I realized I had been slacking off in writing emails and answering my cell phone. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal but then, the next day, I saw that he had sent me a letter, too, in response to the last one I’d written to him. I opened it up and found it addressed to “Dear Friend.” There was no signature. My stomach sank to the floor. I sat down on the bed, grabbed my phone, and called home.
“You okay?” Jessica asked as she answered.
My voice sounded strange to me. “Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I be? Is something wrong?”
“Well, nothing, actually. But Bill just sent me this funny note about us being a pair of odd ducks because neither of us have children. What are you doing tonight?”
“Not much, but I can stop by the store if we’re going out to eat. If we go anywhere, where’s your favorite place to eat near here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We usually order pizza, watch Netflix, and cuddle up under blankets.”
I laughed. “Sounds good, baby. I’ll swing by and pick up some stuff before I come over.”
Jessie’s tone grew serious. “Be careful driving. It’s getting dark out and I know how you hate those country roads.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call if I run into any trouble,” I said.
She gave me a quick kiss and hung up without saying goodbye. I went upstairs, changed clothes, and got in my car to drive home. I didn’t want to go to my office, so I decided to walk around downtown and take in the sights while I considered whether to call my agent.
The town where we live is small and everyone knows each other’s business. So, I was surprised when someone stepped forward and offered me a ride when I was halfway to home. “Hey, handsome,” the older man yelled from his pickup truck. I was standing on the shoulder, leaning against the door because of the cumbersomeness of walking uphill in a suit and tie. “Need a lift?”
He wore his gray hair long enough to curl at the ends. His cheeks were puffy from smoking but still managed to hold onto their wrinkles, giving them character. He was wearing faded jeans that hung low on his hips, exposing a patch of soft skin between his belly button and the denim. He looked like a farmer who owned all the land around him, which he probably did. I could only assume he was the owner of the farm or ranch we lived on since there were no real houses nearby, just a few scattered ranches. The closest house came from the city limits, less than five miles away.
“No thanks, I’m okay.”
The man chuckled. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you here because it’s getting dark outside and you’re probably cold sitting on the side of the road. Just remember: If you ever get lost on these back roads, look for the glow of lanterns coming from windows. Most ranchers will let folks in when they see it’s a stranger, but if you’re not careful and try to sneak into someone’s yard, it ain’t likely you’ll find anyone willing to help you.”
His warning made me realize how many times I’d taken the wrong turn and ended up in places that weren’t supposed to be. I wondered how far from home he was driving and what he thought I would do if he pulled up alongside me and offered me a ride. I’d never been in this area before, having driven in the opposite direction to the city every time I left the house. This part of Kansas was so desolate it made my eyes hurt and head ache. I wondered if it would make sense for me to ask him if he knew of any other people living out here. Then again, maybe I should keep my mouth shut if I wanted to avoid a visit from law enforcement.
We exchanged hellos and I climbed in the passenger seat of his pickup. I couldn’t believe I’d actually been rescued by a complete stranger. The man was a friendly old bastard and seemed harmless enough, despite telling me not to try to sneak in because I’d end up shot in the ass.
“Thanks for stopping and offering me a ride.”
He smiled as he drove toward home. “It’s no problem. You’re lucky I saw you standing there alone. No one else has stopped since I turned off the main road. They think the only reason I’m out this late is to drink. Don’t let the liquor stores fool you; I just happen to enjoy a glass with dinner sometimes. But I can only afford the cheap stuff.”
I nodded at him. “That makes sense. Why do you live out here? Do you own the ranch you’re staying on?”
“Nope, my brother lives up the road a piece. We split things evenly, but he gets most of the profit from it. As for me, I work hard enough during the day. My wife died last year and I’m trying to decide whether to sell it or retire.” He took a long swig from a bottle of beer before continuing. “If I’m honest, I don’t really care either way right now. She left me with two grown boys who have their own families now. The youngest son was a hellion until we found him a job working for us, but he’s finally settled down. Now, we’ve got a couple of kids running around, too. Not all of ’em are our own though.” He shrugged. “As long as the money keeps rolling in, we don’t mind being responsible for a few more mouths. But the thing is, you can’t trust the kids around here anymore. They’re all raised like they’re spoiled little brats.”
I tried not to laugh when he said, “spoiled little brats.” I didn’t know much about children, especially younger ones, but I had seen my share of trouble-making teens on the news. And while I knew some might argue the difference between a child and an adult, I still felt like kids were generally less mature than adults. Even teenagers were pretty immature, although I wouldn’t want to be called a baby forever either. I’d been told that by my mother and grandmother when I’d been young enough not to fight back.
“My nephew was a hellion until a couple years ago,” I replied, then asked, “Have you heard anything about any missing children lately?”
He laughed. “Don’t you worry your pretty head over nothing like that, Missy. Those kinds of rumors crop up once a month out here, but nobody knows where they come from or why they seem to pop up when they do. The only kid I can even remember that went missing was five years old and his momma was cheating on her husband. He ran away because he knew she wasn’t taking him anywhere good.”
There was something strange about the way he phrased everything, as if he had already known the details beforehand. Like he knew them for a fact, even though he must have witnessed the event and lived through it himself. Maybe he was exaggerating to scare me off. Or perhaps I was imagining it. There was certainly plenty of unbelievables in this world without adding more onto my growing list.
The man pulled into the driveway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his front door. “Good luck to you, missy. Stay clear of that place, okay? It’s bad for a young girl like you.” He shook his head. “You’re too pretty for all the shit you’ll find out there.”
When I looked up at him again, he winked at me and waved goodnight before turning toward the house. I watched as he opened the door and went inside. The light was on above the kitchen table so I could see him sitting at it, staring ahead blankly and holding another beer, which he sipped at occasionally before setting it down and sighing. I waited to hear him call out to anyone who lived nearby, but he did not speak. When I started to climb the steps myself, he suddenly stood and walked out on to his porch.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” His deep voice rumbled across the yard.
I paused before asking, “What happened to you? You look terrible.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so calm after what he must have gone through. I had been scared before, but never to the point I thought I would faint. I had nightmares of drowning every night since I was a little girl, but it had taken real terror to drive me to the verge of passing out. What could be more terrifying than having your throat cut?
A shadow covered his face and I gasped when I realized it was the silhouette of a large cat. I’d seen pictures of mountain lions before and I recognized the pattern on this one’s coat immediately. This creature was no ordinary feline, and yet its presence made me feel safe again, as though it understood what was happening to me.
With wide eyes, I stared at the animal and then back at the man. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t take crap from anybody, least of all from a bunch of thugs who think they can just go around killing people with impunity.” The beast growled.
The lion spoke to the man? And what he said was definitely meant for me, or at least that was how it sounded to me. The hairs on my arms rose as I listened to the sound and wondered if he was communicating telepathically. Then I looked beyond him and saw several more shapes coming from the woods toward us.
They moved like wolves or maybe panthers, but I knew they were cats. More specifically, they looked like cougars—bigger versions, though. Their coats were thick and gray-brown, with a black mane and long black tails. They had yellow eyes, which reminded me of wolves’ eyes, and their teeth were also sharp like those of dogs, not cats. As they approached, one stepped onto the porch and stretched, which sent shivers running through my spine. My stomach tightened and my breath came in short gasps.
This was a nightmare brought to life.
“You need to get out of here right now,” I said.
One of the other cougars snarled and I flinched at the sound. “No fucking way.”
The lion growled again, and then both the animal and the man turned to glare at me, their expressions fierce.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
Then a woman’s shrill voice broke through the silence.
The End