Bill Huggins
A Desperate Prequel
by
Nicholas Antinozzi
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicholas Antinozzi
Copyright (c) 2010 by Nicholas Antinozzi
Edited by Coleta Wright
Cover Design by Steve Peterson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Smashwords Edition License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
They say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but what they don’t say is that the apple seldom realizes that. Bill Huggins was no exception. Bill was a product of his environment; raised by a narcisstic mother on his grandfather’s farm, Bill grew up listening to a squeaky wheel and the sound of farm machinery.
Grandpa Ben never made much money as a farmer, but it was the only life he’d ever known and he always seemed to find a way to make things work. The workshop in the barn was his refuge and Bill spent a great deal of time out there with him. Bill watched with fascination as his grandfather resurrected hopelessly broken machines out of sheer necessity. By the time Bill was ten, the youngster was working side-by-side with his grandfather, turning wrenches and troubleshooting complicated electrical problems. Grandpa Ben passed away just before Bill turned eighteen, but not before teaching his grandson everything he knew about being a mechanic.
Lois Huggins did her best raising her only son. She helped him with his homework, limited his hours in front of the television, fed him balanced meals, and encouraged him to spend as much time as possible with his grandfather. On her bad days, she taught her son how to complain. Lois Huggins thought the world owed her an apology and viewed the glass of life as half empty. Bill’s father, a rodeo clown, had been killed by a raging bull in front of hundreds of people, one of which had been his mother. They’d been married for just three months and he died without ever knowing they’d been expecting. Lois fell into a deep depression and rarely escaped it for very long.
Bill was a good son and he stayed close to his mother until she died of one of her many ailments. She was just fifty-three years old.
Bill met Tina Monroe on a blind date and the two were married six months later. They had one daughter, Cindy, and while their marriage was far from perfect, they shared a common belief that life would get better if they just kept working at it. There dream was shattered the day Bill suffered a devastating spinal injury and was told that he would never work again.
Bill was prescribed painkillers and muscle relaxers and spent his days in front of the television. The past, never far away, crept into their lives and slowly began to take over. Bill, hobbled by his injury and doped up on prescription drugs, began to change into the person he swore he’d never become: his ever-complaining mother.
Life wasn’t fair; his back hurt and nobody cared. There was so much wrong in the world. Bill fell into that black hole known as self pity and he languished there for years. By this time they were living in a trailer home in a small town just north of Minneapolis. What Bill didn’t know was that the worst of his pain was yet to come.
Blinded by his own pain and oblivious to the wants and needs of those closest to him, Bill slowly alienated himself from his family and friends. The last day of his married life, Bill mistakenly believed that he had an afternoon doctor’s appointment down in the cities. Bill crawled out of bed at eleven, showered, shaved, and got behind the wheel of his Honda and drove away. With Cindy in school and believing that her husband was gone for the entire afternoon, Tina made a quick call to her new friend, Larry. She mixed up a pitcher of cocktails and Larry listened as Tina tried to make sense of what her life had become. One pitcher led to another, which led to the sofa.
As fate would have it, Bill would stop for gas and call the clinic to explain that he was running a little late. After a quick check on her computer, the young receptionist informed Bill that he was an entire day early. Bill thanked her and stopped off for a quick beer and a burger at the local VFW; he then got into his car and returned home.
After a bitter confrontation, Tina packed up and moved into Larry’s, across the trailer court. A month later, unable to live another day with her disgruntled father, Cindy moved in with her mother and her new boyfriend.
Months passed, with Bill reliving each day as the one before, drowning out his pain with prescription drugs and canned beer. He was fat, bald, annoying, and now he was so depressed that he could barely find the strength to get out of bed in the morning.
As so often happens, a brush with death steered him away from what was certainly a slow suicide. Cindy found him unconscious and unresponsive and called 911. After a ten day stint in the hospital, Bill emerged with a strong anti-depressant, feeling like a new man and determined to turn his life around.
Bill began to attend church and he slowly began to involve himself in the community. He quickly gained a reputation as a miracle worker with his uncanny ability to repair anything with a motor. Bill exchanged his services for casseroles, conversation, and occasionally cash. He watched what he ate, curtailed his drinking, took long walks, and did his best to keep a positive attitude, no matter what life dealt him.
There are few places on God’s green earth that can match Minnesota’s Jeckyll & Hyde climate swings, especially during the month of May. The entire week had been gray and cold, with a stiff wind blowing down from Canada. Saturday morning arrived gift-wrapped, with temperatures in the mid-sixties before the sun appeared in a cloudless sky. By noon, the thermometers read eighty degrees and the televisions were unplugged as people enjoyed the glorious weather.
Bill got out of bed at just after seven and took his medication with his morning coffee. He flipped on the news and watched it briefly. Discouraged by the news anchors that predicted an all-out collapse of the dollar; he shut off the television and turned on his stereo. The music made him forget about the news and Bill boogied about, finishing his morning chores with a spring in his step. Life was good, better than it’d been in a long time.
The first knock on Bill’s door came at just after ten. Mark Miller, who lived three trailers down, was having trouble with his lawnmower and he wheeled it over. Bill emerged from his trailer with a smile, wearing a soiled pair of Wranglers and a sleeveless shirt. He’d been prepared to work on John Lessman’s weed trimmer and he had Miller’s Toro up and running in less than half an hour. Miller slipped him a ten and the two shook hands.
Jimmy Logan lived in the trailer next door and the two had been friends for as long as they’d been neighbors. Jimmy was in his early thirties, a full decade younger than himself, but he was wise in a way that was beyond his years. Jimmy lived with his girlfriend, Paula, who seemed nice enough, but she kept her distance from Bill and nearly everyone else in town. Paula came from big money and she never let people forget it. Bill watched Paula drive away in her Mustang and it wasn’t long before Jimmy wandered over with two cans of soda.
“How’s it goin’, Bill? I see you’ve been busy this morning,” said Jimmy, handing Bill one of the ice-cold cans of root beer.
“I’m doing okay, I’m up a cheesecake and half a ham and it’s still before noon. What are you doing for lunch?”
Jimmy chuckled. “I guess I’ll be eating it with you, if that was an invitation?”
“It sure was; I can’t eat too much ham, it makes me gassy.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Jimmy. He took a long pull on his root beer and stared up into the blue sky. “Nice weather, huh?”
“I’ll say, I heard it’s supposed to stick around all week,” replied Bill, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. He smiled at Jimmy, happy that somebody had come over to visit without needing a reason to do so. Inevitably, that person was always Jimmy Logan.
Jimmy and Paula had been struggling to get along for months and Bill didn’t think the couple would last the summer. Bill wondered about that, Jimmy was young, handsome, and always seemed to be doing something nice for somebody. Paula Peterson was attractive, there was no doubting that, but she was cold and aloof. She tended to make people feel bad about themselves and had even done so to Bill many times over the past two years. She didn’t work, but always complained about not having enough money. Bill wished he could work and he felt no sympathy for her.
Bill prepared two ham sandwiches and he brought them out to his deck where Jimmy sat at the picnic table enjoying the sunshine. He went back inside and fetched a bag of chips, a pitcher of lemonade and the plate of cheesecake. The two men made small talk over their lunch and the conversation eventually turned to the floundering economy.
“I think it’ll pass,” said Jimmy, shaving another slice of cheesecake onto his paper plate. “Wall Street knows what it’s doing, so does the Federal Reserve. They’ll figure this out.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Bill said, chewing on a mouthful of chips. He washed them down with some lemonade and continued. “We’re in deep shit buddy; the government can’t continue to throw money at these problems. Wall Street, the Fed, they’re all a bunch of crooks. Who do you suppose got us into this mess?”
Jimmy paused as he thought about that. What neither man knew was how correct Bill would be in his assessment of their situation. Before this time next week the world would have changed in ways they never could’ve dreamed possible. The dollar would be worthless and they’d be fighting to stay alive.
Jimmy shook his head and quickly changed the subject. He talked about his relationship with Paula and what he was trying to do to make it better. He plowed thru Bill’s steady stream of interruptions, needing to get this off of his chest.
Bill was careful not to say anything negative about Paula, and it was nearly killing him. He valued Jimmy’s friendship too much to tell him what he really thought of her. Still, he did his best to remind Jimmy that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that he’d have no problem finding a keeper.
Buck Keenan pulled in front of Bill’s trailer in his battered Dodge pickup and waved at the men, officially ending the conversation. Riding in the back of the Dodge was Buck’s lawnmower. Buck was a widower and lived across the trailer court. Jimmy liked Buck, but knew that wherever Buck went, beer was sure to follow. Buck didn’t disappoint them as he got out of his pickup and pulled a red cooler out from behind the cab. “Who wants a cold one?” he asked, carrying the cooler up to the deck and setting it down near the picnic table. “I’ve got plenty.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Bill, rubbing his hands together.
Jimmy eyed Bill to let him know that he was watching him. He was so obvious that Buck commented on it. “A few beers ain’t gonna hurt anyone, lighten up, will ya?”
“I know, it’s just that Bill isn’t supposed to drink on his medication.”
“Quit acting like my mother,” said Bill, popping open a can of the cheap beer. “Want one Jimmy?”
Jimmy shook his head and held up his glass of lemonade. “I’m good.” He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, thinking about what Bill had said about Paula.
Buck was in his mid-sixties and was as much of a fixture in the trailer court as the fire hydrants and the mailboxes. He was a large man with bright silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Buck was famous for his quick wit and his ability to consume beer. He was dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans, flip-flops, and a white undershirt that was smudged with grease. Before long, two more men from the neighborhood were sitting at the picnic table. Jimmy listened to them for a while and finally excused himself.
Buck’s mower was nearly a lost cause, but Bill managed to coax some life out of the old machine. Buck’s payment was the beer in the cooler and he did his best to help Bill polish it off. By three in the afternoon, Bill was covered in grease after changing the starter in Luke Spratt’s minivan. Luke had brought over another case of beer and soon there were seven men sitting on Bill’s deck. They drank cold beer as they watched Bill work under the hot sun. Bill didn’t mind, he enjoyed the company and looked at each job as a personal challenge.
By six O’clock, Bill excused himself to his medicine cabinet. He’d twisted something in his back and it was starting to burn. He took a pill and returned to his little party. Bill couldn’t remember the last time he had entertained and it felt good to have company. Thankfully, there were no more requests for mechanical assistance and Bill sat in his lawn chair and drank with the men. The conversation quickly turned to the heavyweight fight that was being broadcast on pay-per-view that evening. Mohawk Wilson, the Champ, was defending his belt against Moose McGee, the only man to ever last twelve rounds with Wilson. Bill was a rabid boxing fan, something he had inherited from his grandfather. The men were getting together to watch the fight and Bill licked his lips. He didn’t have cable television and even if he did, there was no way he could afford the fifty bucks to watch the fight.
Jimmy returned, smoking a Camel and sipping from a bottle of water. Bill surmised correctly that Jimmy had heard the men talking about the fight. Jimmy had fought Golden Gloves under the name Kid Logan, and had earned a reputation as being a tough competitor. He’d quit boxing after his parents had been killed in an accident. Bill eyed Jimmy’s choice of beverage and decided that he’d had enough beer for one day. He excused himself and walked inside, dumping half a can of Coors down the kitchen sink. He reemerged with a glass of lemonade and Jimmy gave him an approving wink. Bill didn’t want to be drunk if he was going to be invited to go watch the fight.
As the shadows grew longer the men began to leave in ones and twos. Buck Keenan was the last to leave, taking his cooler before driving away in his Dodge. Bill and Jimmy exchanged confused looks and Jimmy was the first to comment about it. “What the hell just happened there?” Jimmy asked, lighting up another cigarette.
“I don’t know…” Bill said, scratching his bald scalp with a dirty hand. “Don’t worry, Jimmy, they’ll call. I’m going to hop in the shower. I don’t want to go watch the fight looking like this. Hang on, I’ll be right out. They’ll call...”
Jimmy nodded and waved Bill inside. He sat out on the deck and finished his cigarette, thinking how curious it’d been that none of the men had mentioned where they were watching the fight. Bill had spent his afternoon fixing their junk and it bothered Jimmy that they had simply left without offering an invitation to Bill. Just as he was thinking this, his cell phone began to chirp. Jimmy checked the caller ID and was surprised to see that it was Buck Keenan. “Hello?”
“Jimmy, what have you got going on tonight?”
“Not much, Paula is out of town at a friend’s. What’s up?”
“Listen, a bunch of the guys are getting together over at Larry and Tina’s, we’re going to watch the fight. You understand, we couldn’t say anything to Bill… Jimmy?”
Jimmy flipped his phone shut without saying another word. Anger was building inside his chest and he fought to contain it. He began to clean up the crumpled cans and empty bottles, tossing them into Bill’s recycling bin.
Bill emerged showered and shaved, smelling of cologne and whistling the tune from Rocky. He set his cordless telephone on the picnic table and smiled. “Have you heard where they’re watching the fight? Do you suppose we should pick something up, a pizza or something?”
Before Jimmy could answer, Cindy walked up from the front of the trailer. She was dressed from head to toe in black; her new look, she removed a pair of ear buds and gave the men half a wave. “Hey Dad, Jimmy,” she said. “Mind if I hang out with you guys tonight? Mom and Larry are having a bunch of people over to watch some stupid fight.”
Jimmy watched his friend’s face fall in the blink of an eye. “Sure, honey,” Bill said, “I’ll be right out.” Bill then picked up the cordless phone and walked back inside the trailer.
“What’s up with him?” Cindy asked, taking a seat across from Jimmy at the picnic table.
Jimmy shook his head and quickly changed the subject. “What do you say when your old man gets out here, that we hop in my truck and go out for pizza? Maybe we could stop and pick up a movie on the way back?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Cindy, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Cindy liked Jimmy and was happy to see him.
The pair made small talk for nearly ten minutes before Bill finally walked outside to join them. He had changed his shirt and his eyes were red and puffy. He walked to the railing and stared across the street.
“What do you think, Bill, should we go out for pizza? My treat!”
“That sounds pretty good,” said Bill. “Thanks Jimmy.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
“For times just like these,” Bill said, rubbing his eyes. “For times just like these.”
If you found this prequel enticing, discover three more tantalizing quick reads: Jon, Julie Hartman, Julie Hartman and Ken’s Tale & the Peterson Dilemma; follow these up with the most incredible journey into what could be…Desperate Times by Nicholas Antinozzi at Smashwords.com