It’s finally here, the second in the Union Station short story series; not really a follow up to 9:20, however, Chicago’s Union Station still provides the backdrop and that’s enough to inspire me to keep coming up with drama for the monolithic station. There’s no Hank and Virgin sex-capades here (not saying that they won’t be back). There’s a new set of guests: Jeremy Nova, a handsome, fit, successful asshole that becomes morally challenged by Walter, a dirty, smelly derelict that roams around the station begging for money. Final Call, my fictional Union Station bar that’s based on a real bar (now closed) is back too where Doug, the bartender is introduced. I brought Doris back. She’s the station custodian that let Hank and Virgin in the ladies room in 9:20. I don’t mention Doris as the custodian, but I wrote her in as off duty. She stopped in Final Call for a beer before going home. I tried to foreshadow some drama for Doris that I hope to bring back later.
Derelict is short, but longer than 9:20, coming in at over 3000 words. Here’s a preview, but what’s great it’s free, available to download on most major ebook retailers.
Preview:
Jeremy Nova was always rushing and never really had to; he had an hour before his train left. He entered Union Station at the Canal Street entrance, pushing everyone in his path aggressively out of the way. Heading down the stairs to the Great Hall, he answered a call, handsfree as his Apple earbuds were planted securely in his ears.
“Jeremy?” the voice on the other end said.
“What?”
“You sound stressed man.”
“I’m trying to catch a train.”
“What time?”
“Eight.”
“It’s not even seven man, chill.”
Jeremy looked at his Apple watch: 6:54pm.
“I just want to be ready.”
“Ready for what? It’s Friday.”
“I’m busy.”
“Let that shit go until Monday.”
Jeremy took notice to all the women watching him, and the men too. He knew he looked good in his tight, designer suit. He was thin, but muscular and made sure his suits revealed it. It was the only thing that made him smile at the moment as he walked the Great Hall.
“Did you hear me man? You there?”
“What Ken?!”
“Let that work shit go until Monday.”
“You don’t get it,” Jeremy said, scoping out benches in the Great Hall to sit at and get on his laptop. People were all over them. He didn’t like the way they looked; old men and ladies and a derelict looking man that seemed to be coming toward him. He’s gross! Jeremy quickly detoured, thinking about the food court upstairs.
“What don’t I get?” Ken said.
“If you had an important job like me you’d know.”
“Oh I see,” Ken said. “I’m just a lowly construction worker and you’re a tech company nerd.”
“Whatever,” Jeremy said.
“You need to drink something to chill man. I’ll call you in a bit, after you’ve had a few sips, got something to tell you.”
The call ended. Jeremy was on his way toward the escalator to the food court until he saw Final Call, the Great Hall bar and grill. There were seats open at the small bar. He decided to go there instead and have a drink like Ken suggested. He walked toward it, but felt something. It was behind him. The hairs on his neck stood up. He turned around quickly and jumped, startled by the spaced out, crazed yellow eyes he saw staring at him.
“Gotta dolla?”
Jeremy turned around and took off, almost running into Final Call. The few people sitting around the bar looked at him, including the bartender. Jeremy composed himself and sat down on one of the backless stools. He looked back at the entrance. He didn’t see the man. It was the same derelict he saw out by the benches in the Great Hall. What did he want? He stinks! Damn bum!