Traffic (Complete two-hundred pages) (Moving to Kindle Vella in 30 Days! )

13

PASSPORT

JACK BOLTED QUICKLY TO HIS UNDERWEAR DRAWER and dug his hand in deep to pull out a colt .45. Already loaded he cocked it. He looked at himself in the mirror and held the gun in one hand. Panting like a dog. He grabbed his wallet, his passport, put on his own summer fedora to hide eyes and put on his sunglasses to disguise his face.

He ran to the back window and was about to open the doors to the balcony when suddenly he turned to the sound-- of his bedroom door opening. At the sight of him in sunglasses holding a gun-- his wife dropped her glass of wine on the carpet. And gasped.

Goddammit, was Jack's first thought. He pulled the gun behind his back. But that was useless.

"What the hell, Jack?"

Katelyn was trembling and edging backwards to leave out the bedroom door. That was the last thing Jack could let her do at this moment though and he bolted toward her slammed the door shut. The guests wouldn't be able to hear from the party music, he thought.

"Jack," said Katelyn, ghost white from the sight of the gun. "Where did you get that gun? What's going on?"

Jack closed his eyes. He never wanted to tell her like this. Maybe when they were old and he was retired but not like this. Never like this. She saw in his face that he had a dirty secret. Katelyn began to sweat tears as her heart pounded.

"What is it?" she cried. "Please tell me. Is this about Jacob Wolfenstein downstairs." But she cut off her speech the second Jack looked up and dropped the gun to the floor so he could grab her by the arms with both hands. His eyes went wild.

"That's not Jacob Wolfenstein. And don't you dare tell me again that you've known each other so long. That you're such best friends. Don't you dare lie to me."

Katelyn was shaking with her back against the door, quaking as though about to convulse. "How would you know I'm lying?" Her eyes were pitiful like a gruesome monster from her childhood had finally caught her. Jack let her go, remembering the abuse of her real father in Mexico before she was adopted and abused again by her foster mom downstairs. They'd made amends sure but feelings like that don't just go away.

"Because. . ." Jack said. Stepping back, gasping for air, Jack answered how he knew she was lying about knowing Jacob Wolfenstein from downstairs. How he knew she was wrong about knowing who Jacob Wolfenstein even was.

"Because I'm Jacob Wolfenstein."