1 comments/ 6946 views/ 0 favorites My Life in a Year: Prolouge Ch. 01 By: Alexis661 Author note - In light of my acceptance into the Survivor contest, I thought how hard it might become to write a story (or 10) for each of these catagories and keep it fresh. So, because of that I brainstormed with some people and came up with the idea to write the majority of the contest stories as one person going through each of the "catagories" while he is traveling through the US. One will have to read each of the preceding stories to keep up - although I will try and keep it distiguished - but no promises - so, I am starting this out in the non-erotic section, and it will bounce around to the different catagories, but each will be labeled with My Life in a Year. Enjoy, and send me feedback! *** January 1st, 2006 If you are reading this, then I must have survived. If you are reading this, my story was told, my adventures brought to life and my body, hopefully, is still intact. The following chapters, parts, were the accounts of my life over the last year – the things I did, the people I met – and what I have learned from it all. I ask only one thing – don't judge me. I did what I did for the experience and the need for a change. The need for something different. Over the last year believe that I found whatever it was I was looking for. This is how it all began. January 1st, 2005 Dylan Montgomery sat, yet again, in bumper-to-bumper traffic going over the bridge into Manhattan. His suit jacket hung neatly on the hook in the back seat and he felt that his tie was getting tighter and tighter with each blare of a nearby horn. "For the love of GOD! Can we please move?!" Dylan screamed over the radio to no one in particular. He could feel his blood pressure rising and he swore that he would have a stroke right then and there. He had a split second thought of insanity to just start ramming cars, but he knew that he'd more than likely be put away in a nice place with men in white coats. Although, he thought to himself, Three hot's and a cot doesn't sound so – BLEEP BLEEP! BLEEP BLEEP! Dylan's Nextel two-way began blaring, which jolted him from his pleasant thoughts of white walls, white sheets and mashed potatoes everyday. He pulled the phone from the holster and glanced at the number. Sighing, he flipped it open. "Phil, yeah, I know...This traffic is shitty...What do you mean it fell through?...They did what?...HOW MUCH?" Dylan's face paled at the news that the largest client his firm has caught yet just got snatched up by another for a steeper price. "FUCK!" he screamed into the receiver before he snapped the phone closed. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He began to break out into a sweat, griped the steering wheel and for a minute he thought he was really going to lose his mind. By the time he made it to the skyscraper office, he had regained some control of his emotions, but he knew the ice of his mental state was thin. He knew that if one more thing went wrong, if one person looked at him cross-eyed, he would be done. He'd walk out of the mirrored building and wouldn't turn back. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he would do. He had plenty of money – that wasn't a concern – so he only worked for a lack of anything better to do. Maybe I could take a cruise he thought, unlocking his office. Or maybe one of those all-inclusive resorts with the drinks that have the umbrellas – "Mr. Montgomery?" Janice, his secretary, poked her head into his office as he took off his now wrinkled jacket, and she ultimately interrupting his fantasy getaway plan. "Yes, Janice, what is it?" "Um, Phillip was looking for you earlier and-" "I know Janice, he called me on my cell about 20 minutes ago." "Well, he insisted that you come see him right away." She pushed her glasses back up her nose and hugged her notebook tighter to her chest. "Thank you, Janice." Dylan said dismissing her, without really looking up. After he flipped through his messages he sighed and took the trek to Phil's office, only 2 over from his. He nodded to Janice on the way, which was their secret nod to mean to hold his calls, and in spite of himself, he smiled slightly at the thought that his secretary reminded him of a mouse in some strange alter universe way. Still chuckling, Dylan rounded the corner to Phil's office and was waved in by as he stood at the desk on the phone. Dylan took a seat in the leather chair, propping his ankle on the knee of the other. Phil didn't look any closer to sanity than Dylan felt. Once the call was completed, Phil hung up the phone and sat down, sighing as he looked at Dylan. "That bad, huh?" Dylan asked. "Yeah, that bad." "Shit." "Yep." Phil trailed off. "So, what do we do?" "How the hell did this happen?" Dylan asked, becoming agitated. He felt the choking feeling creeping up on him again. "Well, the thing is..." Phil started looking embarrassed, shuffling papers on his desk. "What?" Dylan asked. "Well, the thing is, I sorta kinda maybe told Bob that it was your fault." Phil ducked, afraid Dylan would strike. "You – you did what?" Dylan asked shocked. Had he heard right? His most trusted friend at the firm, making him take the fall? "I didn't mean it, honest!" Phil jumped from his seat when Dylan sprung up. "Bob was madder than hell, screaming at me! I didn't know what else to do! He asked what happened, I didn't know of course, so I said you had seen them last, said something to them about 'better marketing potential with E.B. Hutten' - " "So you blamed the account loss on ME?" Dylan was furious and he had to keep clenching and unclenching his fists to avoid hitting Phil. Although he know it would feel good if he did. "Dil, listen! I didn't mean it! Bob was going to chop me!" Phillip shouted holding his hands up in defense as Dylan came around the desk. He grabbed Phil by the shirt neck, pulling him close enough to look him in his beady eyes. "I aught to wring your fucking little neck, you prick!" Dylan shouted, tightening his grip. "I should beat your skinny - " Suddenly Dylan let go of Phil and he practically dropped him to the floor. A sudden calm came over his face and he smiled an evil, almost wicked, grin. "Dil?" Phillip started. "Dylan? Are you okay? You look – you look a little weird." "I'm - " Dylan let out a laugh. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine!" He began to laugh even harder now, clutching his stomach in convulsions. "I'm fucking fine!" he screamed this time, rushing for the door. "Dylan?" Phillip yelled. "Where are you going?" "Anywhere I fucking want to!" Dylan called back from the door. "So fuck you, fuck this place, fuck everybody!" He laughed shrilly. "I FUCKING QUIT!" Dylan raced back to his office, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top four buttons. He rushed over to his desk, taking what few possessions he had and placing them in his briefcase. He began to mutter to himself while he cleaned out his drawers and got so loud at one point that Janice poked her head in. "Sir?" She asked timidly. "Janice!" He shouted joyfully, seemingly noticing her for the first time. "Janice, my dear, I quit!" Smiling goofily he did a little jig and began to sing an old Jimmy Buffet song. "Sir, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?" Janice had real fear in her voice since this was the first time she had ever seen her boss in such a light. Usually he was depressing, dodgy and calm. "Janice! I am fine. Really. Let me ask you something?" Dylan said lighting a Cuban he happily came across while going through an open drawer. He was like a kid at Christmas. Without waiting for an answer he went on. "Does anyone ever call you 'mouse'?" "My – my mother does. Sometimes. I mean, when I was younger." Janice jumped back and almost screamed as Dylan stormed towards her. She began backing away into the wall as he came closer. "I'm not going to hurt you! Relax!" Dylan said, reaching for her. She was frozen in terror as he touched her face. "Do me a favor?" She shook her head up and down, mostly because his hands were forcing her to nod. "Go to the salon, get a haircut, get some highlights, get your eyebrows waxed, get a bag of new makeup and for god sakes, get some contacts okay?" He hugged her close, patting her head. "Okay?" "Sir..." Janice muffled into his shirt. She waited a second longer until he finally released her. He looked at her expectantly and she decided it was best to agree with him than to fight him. "I will." "Good!" He screamed, jumping back and stoked on the cigar. Taking one last look around the office he picked up his briefcase flung his jacket and tie over his arm and walked toward the elevator. Dylan waited impatiently for the door to ding, doing another little jig, singing to himself. Others on the floor all peeked curiously around the corners of their cubicles, stifling giggles and suppressing laughter. Still puffing away, the door finally opened and Dylan stepped inside. The doors began to close, but at the last second a hand snaked out from the inside to stop the shutting. "Oh, one more thing!" Dylan shouted. "It was a pleasure working with all of you, even thought I know none of you get paid enough and we are cheap on the benefits! I wouldn't blame you if you all quit and got new – no, better – jobs than what you have here! Goodnight, and good luck!" he screamed as the elevator doors finally forced his hand from the crack and began its decent. When the doors opened on the lobby level floor, the sun from the street outside flooded the marble foyer. Dylan stood for a minute, soaking up the warmth, and then walked through the revolving doors into the bright light outside. Taking a deep breath, Dylan walked to the garage and took his car out of the city one last time. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do yet, but he knew it wasn't going to be scheduled, planned, or required. He was just going to have a hell of a good time. My Life in a Year: Prolouge Ch. 02 Author note - You might want to read Prolouge part 1, and see the author note there...enjoy *** January 2nd, 2005 The next morning Dylan awoke to the sounds of – nothing. No alarm. No television. No cell phone. Nothing. He stretched and glanced at the clock, which was showing a late start to his new life at 11:15 am. He smiled and threw back the covers, padding over to the lounge chair to retrieve his robe. Tying the belt he searched for his slippers but lost interest after he got a whiff of coffee from the kitchen. His daily maid of 10 years, Jasmine, had let herself in as usual and was doing the daily chores of dishes, laundry and anything else it was that she did all day. He came down the back stairs, which led directly into the adjoining sunroom, and he could see her whipping spots from the counter. Scratching his tousled bed head hair, he shuffled into the kitchen, banging his knee on the doorjamb on the way in. "OWWW!" he howled, rubbing furiously at the red spot appearing. "AUGH!" Jasmine yelled, throwing up her hands, tossing the cleaning rag and bottled cleaner over her shoulder. "WHAT?" Screamed Dylan, immediately on the defensive, ready to fight in a mock Karate stance. "Mr. Montgomery!" Jasmine said breathing heavy, hand over her chest. "You give me a heart attack!" "Me?" Dylan said, eyes still flicking to the open parts of the room. "You're the one who screamed!" "You no supposed to be here!" She hissed back, he rounded bosom heaving. "You never here! I don't hear so well you know! I'm old lady! You no sneak up on me like that!" "Jasmine! I LIVE here!" Jasmine clucked her tongue, mumbling in her foreign language, crossing herself several times. "You don't do that again, eh?" She picked up the rag and cleaning spray. "Eh, why you home? You sick?" Immediately she moved for him, hand outright to feel for a fever. Dylan sidestepped quickly, avoiding the old lady's hand. "I'm fine, Jasmine, just home for the day." "Eh, I see." She said. "Sit, sit. I'll make you breakfast, no?" Like a child Dylan sat at the large table while Jasmine retrieved the daily paper and brought him coffee. "I make you eggs." While Dylan waited for breakfast, he flipped through the paper, his mind trained to go directly to the stock reports and trade analysis. Disgusted with himself, he moved on quickly to the WANT Ads, and then to the SELL ads. His eyes drifted over them, each screaming out, 4-sale! Must g-g-go! GR8 Deal! It was the ad at the bottom of the page that caught his attention. Mumbling to himself he read it several times. After the 3rd time, he jumped up and screamed. "Hell yeah!" Dylan heard a glass break in the kitchen and he winced, knowing his outburst had jostled Jasmine. He smiled and rushed into the kitchen. "Mr. Montgomery, you try to kill me! This I know!" Jasmine scolded, bending over to pick up pieces of the glass mug, he wide backside sticking out. "Sorry Jasmine, I got over excited." He tried to help her pick up the pieces, but she smacked his hands away. "What you so excited about?" She asked, throwing the glass in the trash. "What if I told you, I will be – I will be gone for awhile?" "You finally take vacation?" She asked eye arched. "Y –yes, sorta. I will be gone for- ", Dylan thought for a second. "For at least a year." "A year?" Jasmine breathed. "Why you go so long?" Her look became maddening and she asked, "You are try to kill me! This way, you no have to fire! Petuewy on you!" She added, mock spitting in his direction. "Jasmine! No, no! I need you to keep on here. I still need a clean house, right?" She thought about this for a second, lips pursed in a tight scowl, wondering if he was pulling her leg. "You no fire me?" She asked. "No. I need you to keep up on the house, as usual. But look at this!" Dylan thrusted the paper at her. "Read it." Jasmine pulled her reading glasses from her smocked dress, adjusting them on her nose. She tilted her head up and read the ad. "Grow your penis 3 extra inches?" "Jasmine!" Dylan said, snatching the paper back and then pointed to the ad at the bottom. "No! This one!" She looked again, reading it to herself and then out loud. "For sale. 1998 Mustang Cobra con-vert-a-ble, 10K O-B-O." She wrinkled her nose. "You going to drive somewhere?" She asked, taking off her glasses. "Yes I am!" Dylan said excitedly, pulling the phone off the charger. He dialed the number listed in the ad as Jasmine finished making his eggs. A moment later Dylan hung up. "Its mine!" he said excitedly. "You such a boy," Jasmine said, herding him into the dining room. "Sit down and eat. I'll find the suitcase." Smiling widely, Dylan sat and began to stuff his mouth with the warm eggs, his mind churning ideas and planning the route. In mid bite, he jumped from the table and went to the library, retrieving the road atlas his mother had gotten him for Christmas the year before. Returning, he sat again, this time with the maps spread over the table, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the fork in the other. He could hear Jasmine in the upstairs bedroom, pulling the luggage from the spare closet. Concentrating, he plotted his course. "Lets see." He said to himself. "I'll do all of the US. Yes. I'll go from here," He began drawing from NY all the way to Florida, "To here, then go back up," the yellow highlighter glided over the page, "to Alabama then on to Michigan." An hour later, the map was covered in highlighter marks in yellow, green and blue, each marked with a timetable and dates. Dylan leaned back in his chair studying his work, satisfied that he was able to get each and every state in. Jasmine came to collect his dishes and glanced over his shoulder. "You going to drive all that?" She asked. "I sure am." Dylan replied, eyes glazed. "I don't know why you want to do that silliness for, but I guess I have to wash more clothes." Dylan smiled as she made her way back to the kitchen and he glanced at his watch. It was nearing 3 already, and he needed to go pick up his new car.