C H A P T E R O N E

Jorge Crain strode ceremoniously to the main building of the Hyatt Library. His hands were inside of the side pockets of his black slacks, and chin was up. He gasped as he saw her–Catherine McClain–the red-haired woman in her late 30s sitting in her usual wooden auburn desk–hushing those noisy library users from time to time.

    “Hey, Cathy.” Jorge greeted. Catherine curled her temple as she looked at him–absently. “Loads of works, I guess.”

    Cathy nodded dismissively. “I have too many loads that can even make you busy ‘til the next day. What can I do for you, Mr...?”

    “Uh-uh.”–Jorge paused and glassed his eyes with purification–“That book is something out of the shelves already. Can you check it in the storage, at least?” he grinned.

    “Jorge. Jorge Crain.” He introduced himself calmly. Jorge beamed a casual smile as he saw Catherine’s eyes didn’t leave his face. Her eyes were remote and firm. “I am looking for a book–an old book, to be exact.”

    “We have DDS, young man. Fit yourself to the shelves.”

    “What is this, really? Are you trying to bribe me?” Cathy smirked. The wrinkles on her side lips were conspicuous, glued.

    “Look, can’t you see these piles?”–the woman lowered her thick reading glass off her nostrils and puffed an irritated air off–“If I’ll check it, I’ll be checking it in the next 48 hours, for sure.”

    “What if I’ll give you twice your monthly salary to check it first? What do you think?” whispered Jorge. He took his checkbook out from his left side pocket and wrote three hundred dollars. He handed it to the shocked woman.

    “I’m so sorry for your lost. Give me the details. Title, author, date when it published? At least, sort that I can help.” Cathy whispered. The lady took an unused legal yellow paper from her desk and a red inked pen to catch Jorge’s voice.

    “It depends on how you’ll think about this, honey.” Jorge winked and smirked deliberately. His charms had never failed him to get rid anything he wanted.

    “What’s with this book, Jorgie?” She sniffed.

“Dad’s a collector of old books. He loved the smell…just so sad that he died before he completed his Penjordings series.” His voice sickened until the last part of his sentence became oddly audible. Jorge suddenly felt torn and the hole in his chest burnt again.

    “Staircases to his fame by Penjordings. It’s around 1978 and 1980, sweetheart.”

He smiled hideously at the assurance that it was the book that he was looking for. “Can I talk to you, more privately?” Jorge whispered while his eyes were checking how many users were there along with them. 14. He smiled on the corners of his lips.

    “I’ll check it right away. And, no one will know about this, Jorge.” She warned.

Jorge’s agreeing smile overtook his lips. The lady went inside to that brown unnoticeable door in the left of Cathy’s desk.  It took Catherine a sometime to come back with a thick, dusty package that Jorge believed it was where the book was contain. What a precious manuscript. He thought.

“It’s already in the back of the trash bins. You’re a bit of lucky to have it check before the Tomborndt getaway have their regular book checking here every Saturday.” Cathy handed him the dusty, unopened casing.

He smiled hideously at the assurance that it was the book that he was looking for. “Can I talk to you, more privately?” Jorge whispered while his eyes were checking how many users were there along with them. 14. He smiled on the corners of his lips.

“More…privately?” Jorge glinted his eyes and it seemed like Catherine got it all connected. “Follow me in the shelfs. The place’s too deep that no one would go there, Mr. Crain.” She winked and bit her lower lip and they walked there. Secretively.

“Catherine, what is the most hair-raising expedition had you done with your life, so far?” asked Jorge. He wounded his hands on his back after he placed the hard case on a free spaced shelf.

“Hair-raising? I got nothing yet. This would be my first time making out in public.” Catherine unzipped his slacks and had her hands enter.

Catherine rubbed, penetrated his dick inside his black boxer brief but Jorge didn’t even catch a boner. Catherine gave him a side smile as she reached his mouth for a kiss. “My instincts didn’t fail me about you being 9incher. Too big for a beefy man like you.”

Jorge grimaced and a spark glinted his smirk. “I kinda like your soft hands, Cathy. But I hate the fact that you’re a bit of nauseating the crap out of me.” Jorge snarled and thrust that jagged knife–that he was hiding in his back–on Catherine’s chest–4th to 6th rib, closer to the heart and he wrenched it, soullessly.

I love how this fucking woman grunted right in my face–begging me to be gentle but I am no good listener nor accepting anyone’s suggestion. Jorge thought.

“J-Jorge, W-why?” a guttural voice escaped her blood splattering mouth before she lost her life.

Jorge placed her cold body slowly, carefully not to catch any stain to his black suit. He smirked after.
“I’m sorry, Cathy but I have to do this”–He paused and deepened the engraving. “Thanks for the book. I owe the successfulness of everything with your death.” Jorge wholeheartedly enunciated.

He moved her breathless body in the corner to tentatively hide her body before he could successfully plot his way out. Catherine’s death would for sure, startle London – the reason why he came back from death.

Jorge Crain went outside the Hyatt Library just like how he entered earlier before he did that nerve satisfying expedition. His chin was up; hands were tightly holding the hard case. Sorry not sorry, Catherine.

The smell of the blood satisfied and intensified his eagerness to continue what was his plans were. Jorge Craig laughed devilishly as he locked the door of his apartment.

What is the most hair-raising expedition had you done with your life, so far? He said to himself while savoring the earthly smell of the old pages as he sipped his Margarita.
 

Partial Mayhem