I was DOA - dead on arrival. Really. I have the medical records to prove it. My story was all over the news. I appeared on the nationally syndicated talk shows. Everyone loved the part about how the ambulance crew was leisurely wheeling me to the morgue after the car crash. I suddenly sneezed and sat up, scaring the life out of them.
A publisher offered me a two million dollar book deal. Once the book was written to their satisfaction I would receive the money. We were broke, so that was great news. I gave up my job so I could spend my time working full-time with their famous ghost writer and attorney, Megan Ollan. Megan wrote my contract, then began writing the book with me, using our den as an office.
My wife, Annie, was very happy about this - the two million dollar part, not the DOA part. At least she said she was.
She began spending more time away from home. Before the book, we often met at home for lunch. Now, Annie said her job was getting too busy. My old job took a lot more time than hers, so Annie used to do most of the cooking. Now I was spending even longer days with Megan writing the book, but Annie told me her work hours had increased too. Most days she said, "Sam, at dinner time I'll just grab some takeout from the fast food joint next to my office, and go back to work." So Megan and I got carryout. Annie came home later and later, usually after Megan was gone.
We had a tight knit neighborhood. My neighbors began hinting to me that Annie was up to something. She was gone from home too much. She wasn't as affectionate to me at the neighborhood barbecues as she used to be. I assured everyone that she was just stressed from long work hours.
