My Life in a Year: Prolouge Ch. 01

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.