1,000,000 miles in opposite directions.

Chapter 2.

  He'd been sleeping off a whiskey headache when he received the letter, heard it slip through the door and fall on the hardwood paneling. At first he didn't move, he just sort of stayed where he was, waiting for sleep to take him again. Had the cell phone in his pocket not gone off he would have...Seems the day would start early for Tommy.    

        "Yeah?" He didn't recognize his own voice, hoarse, cracking, it was like something out of a horror movie. The voice he heard on the other line  was the very familiar whiny soprano which belonged to his secretary, Julie.

        "Mr. Smith someone has been paging you all day, they want to know what you've found out about the Jackson case." she told him, quite obviously agitated that he hadn't shown up to his office yet. But in all honesty? Tommy wasn't in any position to work. He clicked the button, cutting off further rantings with a half-smile plastered on his lips. Freeing himself from his bed he began to explore the house. A bowl of Cheerios and coffee was the perfect way to get the day started. Pawing through the pages of his newspaper was more habitual than intentional. Eyes scanned the page uninterested. Moments later this was set aside and he began to sort through the junk mail, when something fell. 

   It was a small envelope, colored pink, probably construction paper, turning it over in hands he found that it was addressed to a "Mr. Thomas A. Smith." Each word was written cute and neatly. It was obviously a girl's handwriting. Underneath his name on the nearest open space she'd handwritten a simple, "Hello Tommy." And a smiley face. There was no sender's address, and over the sealed bit on the back it looked as if someone had kissed the letter. He considered just tossing it out but the boldness of the letter was enough for him to humor the sender. Cutting open the letter with anxious hands he clumsily dumped the contents onto the table. A small letter fell out and what looked like a ticket. Slowly unfolding the letter, he gazed over the print, identical to what was handwritten on the envelope, which meant it was obviously the same girl, maybe not a scam? He took the time to scratch his scalp and rid his cig of the ash it had been collecting. The cig of which he had no recollection of pulling from his pocket and lighting, before reading what it had to say;

 

Dear Tommy,

        "How are you? I've been really wanting to write this letter to you, but...I didn't know how to begin, I just wanted to see if you still remember me. And I wanted to ask if you were a detective yet. I remember you always talked about it. You used to tell me..That you'd find the man who ran my parents off the road that night..And that you'd make him pay..But listen to me just rambling on. Tommy what I wanted to say is that I have some great news! I'm not a model, not exactly anyway. I'm an Idol. Do you know what that is? I mean, I'm sure you do! Anyway. I'm going to be singing with a band you and I used to listen to when we were in High School. I'd really like it if you could come and see me...It'd mean a lot to me. And a familiar face would give me strength to do it flawlessly. And afterward, I thought we could get something to eat. Maybe go out on the town or something. If you're free of course...You don't have to come if you're busy...And I hope you haven't moved or anything....That's all I wanted to say, please Tommy..Let's not forget one another okay?"

 

XOXOXO

Chelsie~

 

       Tommy's heart had scarcely beaten. The letter fell from his grasp and he scoured the table for the ticket he had nonchalantly tossed aside now as if it were some sunken undersea treasure. It took him a moment but he rescued it from his cheerios, sweeping away what residue existed and read it aloud.

                "Admit one....Crystal Tears....That girl band? Ehhhh...She would." The date is what alarmed him, it was to be held in Tokyo, which wasn't dreadfully far away, he could make it in about three and a half hours. The issue, was that it was in three days. He looked feverishly for a return address or something so he could contact  her but he found nothing....Sighing quietly he threw the envelope in the nearest trash can and placed the note on the fridge with a magnet. The ticket he would NOT let out of his sight for the next two days...But the question on his mind was a prominent "Why?" Why had she waited for five years before getting in touch with him? Twenty two, she must be twenty two by now. And to become a Japanese Idol? She was certainly cute enough..Maybe..It was now that Tommy realized he'd forgotten her face..While trying to remember his thoughts were once more taken by the same dang cell phone tone. This time Tommy didn't give them a chance to speak.

        "I get it Julie. I'm in the car, on my way right now got it?!" He demanded agitatedly. The voice on the other end of the phone wasn't that of Julie's but of his partner's, Bill. An average man with an average, monotone voice.

        "Yeah thas' great'n all Tom-Tom, but I reckon I got's a prob'm brewin' down 'ere. See I was juss' doin' my thang'n saw a fella bout your size actin' all shifty like. So I figured I'd follow him and well, lissen." It was just now that Tommy heard the familiar sound of gunshots being fired. Instantly alarmed he rushed to put on his coat, and grab his car keys. After a quick conversation Tommy was in his little worn Honda Civic and on his way. It seemed the little man Bill had followed was a drug mule. One of those poor saps that runs the drugs from location to location. Usually someone young or very old, anyone that wouldn't draw attention. It also appeared that when Bill told him to "Hang up fer a minute." The boy and his -friends- opened fire on his position, and as unbelievable as it sounded? On one another. Whom called for reinforcements. It seemed the idiots had a whole gang war going down in the middle of the freaking street. And that was the issue. Civvies could get hurt. And that couldn't happen. Tommy wasn't a cop, but he would chalk this up as being a "Good Samaritan" 

        He pulled up to the curb and stepped out quickly, opening his door and using it for cover, just in time because bullets riddled the car's windows and body. Freeing his M-9 Beretta from it's holster he pulled the small ticket from his pocket, planting a kiss upon it and waiting for the shooters to take the time to reload their weapons, before he took a deep breath, rose from his squatting position, and began to fire.

 

                                          [Short, I know, but I'll add more on soon. Chapter 3 coming up! :D]