Note: All persons used in this novel are fictitious. Although the areas used in this novel are real, the points of interest used to make this interesting reading for you, are neither at the exact heights, or in the location described. If you are looking for a great deal of explicit sexual activity, this is not the story for you. As I have it notated now, those scenes will be evocative rather than aggressive. They also will be few and far between. This is going to be a "SHORT STORY, for your reading pleasure," with no more than "FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS." With the exclusion of certain scenes, this story could easily fit into the category of "NON-EROTIC" as easily as it will fit into Novels or Novella. Again, please remember, 'THIS IS A NOVEL.'
ATTN: The first man you are going to meet in this story is named "Even," not "Evan." "Even" as in "Even and Odd." If you think that is weird, wait until you read this story; it only gets worse!"
*****
1. It Was A Bad Way To Start My Day
My friend, and attorney, Rod Laver called me at 7:30 AM MST to tell me he had some bad news for me. He always started his conversations with me that way, so I asked him, which patent was turned down."
"Even I'm sorry, but it's much worse than that. I received a call from the Waterville Police Department. Your parents and your sister were killed while trying to cross railroad tracks ahead of an oncoming train.
They were speeding on their way to the hospital to check on Julius' injury. He suffered was hurt during a football game with his friends. He died on the way to the hospital. I am so sorry for your loss."
"Rod, I haven't seen or spoken to most of them in nearly 10 years. You know the whole story. I never expected to lose all of them at the same time. I am not going to go there. It will be hard to see them lined up like dominoes, especially my sister. There is no sense to go there, anyway. They are all gone. Contact a lawyer in Waterville, and have them buried together. Have him settle the estate, and give the money to a local women's charity in Divines' name. We were very close."
"Even you have to go to Waterville. You have to bring your niece back here with you. You are her godfather, and legal guardian. You are the only family she has left. She is 16 years old, and you are responsible for her until she is 18."
"THERE MUST BE A MISTAKE!"
You know I can't deal with women. I hide when the housekeepers come to clean this house. What am I supposed to do with a 16-year-old girl? She was supposed to go to his sister."
"Apparently your sister was able to make a change, and made you her guardian. It might not be so bad, because according to her dossier, she is almost as smart as you are. Her IQ is 183. Her school grades don't show that capability though. She is a C or below student. It is possible that you two can help each other out."
"Don't try to humor me Rod. Send her to a boarding school for the next 2 years. I will pay all expenses, and make sure she has enough money to last her for the rest of her life. She cannot live in this house with me. She is a female, and I do not know how to deal with females."
"You knew how to deal with Tammy Hopkins."
"Rod, she was 7 years old, and when I gave her a Valentine's Day card, she smacked me."
"If you knew how to spell back then, you would have been king of the classroom. You remember what you wrote on her Valentines' day card? "Tammy, you are a sweet as an all-day fucker." Every girl in the class would have smacked you. If you had put an 'S' instead of that 'F' on that card, she might have kissed you."
"Rod, you can't remember to file my taxes on time, but you can remember a story from 26 years ago."
"I always file an extension for your taxes. You have never been audited by the IRS, and you have never been fined. I will rent a private jet to fly you to Maine tomorrow morning. Do you want me to send someone over to pack your clothes, or are you going to remember to pack underwear?"
"Be nice to your only client Rod, or you will wind up being an ambulance chaser for the rest of your life."
"I always wanted to buy an expensive pair of 'Air Jordan's. This will finally give me an excuse to put them down as a business expense. Do you want me to come along with you?"
"You had better be on that aircraft with me. I need someone who will be able to speak to Delicious."
"Who the hell is Delicious?"
"She is my niece. The 16-year-old female with the 183 IQ; the one you want me to live with her for the next 2 years. Find me a boarding school in Denver; I know there is none here in Idaho Springs."
"I have a thought Even; and don't scream at me until I finish saying what's on my mind. Why don't you homeschool her? Apparently, she does not relate well to people. It reminds me of her uncle, who does not relate well to women, or men without a scientific background. She can take her courses online, and she can talk to the male of the household, about any problem she may be having. You can yell at me now."
I didn't yell at my friend; I slammed the phone instead. I believe he understood my answer.
At 12 PM his secretary called, and told me to be at the Denver airport at 8 AM for our flight to the Robert La Fleur airport, in Waterville Maine. I asked her which Denver airport, and she replied, "The old one."
I detest getting up early in the morning, because I do my best work starting late in the evening, and working until the wee small hours of the morning. If there is one thing I have learned living at 11,000 feet above sea level, it is any moisture on the roads turns to ice very quickly. Black ice on black roads leads to many fatal accidents, especially when you are driving downhill to the Mile High City: Denver, Colorado.'
I called a car service, Yes; Idaho Springs does have a car service, and asked them to pick me up as soon as possible, and take me to the closest hotel to the old Denver International airport.
One hour later, a GMC Yukon stopped at my perimeter gate. I put in the security code, which lowered the concrete posts, and opened the security gates to let him in to my compound. I threw my bag into the back seat, and rode shotgun. From my home, just west of Idaho Springs, to the airport hotel was a little more than 90 miles. For the majority of the trip, the driver barely had to touch the gas pedal, due to the steep declines through the rugged mountain terrain, and we were going well over 60 miles an hour, on Interstate 70. If you ever have a chance to come this way, try to keep at least one eye on the road, because the scenery up here is magnificent, and the guardrails will not keep you from driving over the side of the mountain.
******
Once I was ensconced in my room, I took out the latest tome on the "Micro-Digital Implantation of Sub-Cellular Diagnostics, and Functional Memory Enhancement," written by my friend and MIT colleague Suh Andrehardra. Of the 1300 pages I read so far, I sent four emails to him, advising him I found eight computation errors on his work. I did not say what they were, for fear they might be picked up by a hacker, and sold to another scientist doing research in the same area. I mailed them to his address at the Scripps Institute in Jupiter Florida, in a plain white envelope, with no return address.
He was, and still is not very unhappy with me. We have been having a rather non-collegial discourse over these facts and figures for the past 3 months. He refuses to believe he is wrong, while I laugh knowing I am correct. We have a $1 wager on the outcome of his next test, which will occur in four months' time.
At MIT, our colleagues had bet on which one of us could squeeze a penny harder. It turned out to be a tie, and Professor Gilchrest won. He received $18 for his efforts, because everyone in our Microbiology class bet $1 each. We were all poor students at the time, and had to make each penny count.
*******
We took off at 8:15 AM MST, and landed in Waterville at 2:55 PM EST. I rested, and slept the entire way across the continent, even though Rod did not shut up from takeoff through landing. It is a gift I learned, while sitting through boring lectures and seminars. There was no one at the airport to greet us, not that I expected anyone to be there.
Rod drove us straight to the Funeral Home, using the GPS that was installed in the vehicle. It was worse than I thought. There were three closed caskets, and one open casket containing the body of my brother-in-law, Julius Mark. Sitting in the last row was a teenage girl, with an elderly woman attempting to console her. The youngster was inappropriately dressed for this occasion. She was wearing a miniskirt that barely covered her essentials. Her see-through top displayed her young breasts for everyone to see. I was appalled.
Rod whispered, "Now that is what I call 'Delicious'."
I whipped around and said, "That is my niece?"