Starting Over Pt. 02 Ch. 01

Starting Over II, Chapter 1.

This is a continuation to the story "Starting Over", which was written several years ago. It was not just a stroke story, but had some more fleshed out characters. I've tried to get started on this sequel several times, but never got going on it. Here, finally, is a continuation.

The previous story took place in late 2012 up to New Year's Eve. This one picks up a few months after that one. I have also changed the point of view to omniscient, for reasons that will be evident as the story unfolds.

There is no sex in this initial chapter, but it will come.

Main Characters

LTC (Retired) John Jackson, 5'11", 180, 45 years old.

Marie Jackson, John's dead wife, 5'8", 140, 44 years old.

Angelica Jackson, John and Marie's daughter, 5'5", 125, 19 years old.

Mary Bradford, bartender, 5'5", 120, 34 years old.

Margaret (Maggie) Bradford, Mary's sister, 5'6", 115, 36 years old, and John's love interest.

Madeleine (Maddie) Bradford, Maggie's daughter, 6 years old.

Juliet Margolin, waitress, 5'4", 145, 24 years old, Mary's cousin.

Samantha (Sam) Walker, 5'6", 130 pounds, 39 years old, John's neighbor.

Joyce Walker, Sam's daughter, 5'4", 120 pounds, 19 years old, and now an exotic dancer.

Marion Walker, Sam's daughter, 5'4", 115 pounds, 17 years old.

SFC (Retired) Craig Smithson, 6', 190, 46 years old, NCO from John's Army unit.

Captain Jeff Smithson, 5'11', 185, 44 years old, SFC Smithson's brother and a captain in the Seattle Police Department.

Jeanne (aka Jasmine) Welch, 5'5", 110, 20 years old, exotic dancer.

George Watkins, 6'4", 280, 35 years old, bouncer.

Olivia, 5'4", 120 pounds, 20 years old, called Livy, exotic dancer.

Luke Cole, 5'10", 180, detective in the Seattle Police Department.

Marcus Candiotti, strip club manager.

Previously, on New Year's Eve, 31 Dec 2012:

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"So you think we have a future?"

"At this point, I hope so, but we need to be together and work on our relationship before we can make that decision."

Maggie went into John's my arms and rested her head on his chest. "Does that include treating me like you did that one day when I showed up at your apartment depressed?"

John grinned. He knew she was talking about the day that she came in depressed and he went over her attributes and told her why she was so beautiful. She had perked up right away and they had had very good sex. "Of course. All the time."

"Good. I liked that part a lot." She kissed John. "I forgive you and I think my room upstairs is empty right now. Maybe I can think of something to do to make it up to you."

John smiled, took her hand, and they snuck through the kitchen and up the back stairs toward her room. John felt elated and hoped that he would be as lucky in love this time around as he was the first.

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Monday, April 15, 2013

John and Maggie were still seeing each other a little bit. At least that was what John was telling himself. Maddie was becoming a regular at his apartment. Maggie got him to agree to take things a little slowly for now, but he thought that he could feel her pulling back. They hadn't really known each other that long and wanted to be sure since there was a child involved, but John got the sense that it was more than that. He knew that they would have a problem with Maddie's attachment no matter happened to the two of them, but a wedding would make things more difficult to back out of.

John was watching the news on the Boston Marathon bombing, which had happened just a few hours before, when he got a call from Jeanne/Jasmine. Jeanne was a young woman who had run away from home at 18. She was a legal adult, but her mother had asked the investigation agency that John had just joined to find her so that she could make sure she was safe and reconnect with her daughter. It was his first assignment working for a former NCO from a unit of his named Craig Smithson, who had started Smithson Investigations.

Jeanne, her real name, was working as a stripper with the name Jasmine at a Seattle club when John found her. She met with and sort of made up with her mother, but she had left home when her step-father had started coming on to her and she was not going to go back. She had convinced her mother that she was doing fine, even though her mother was not happy with Jeanne's chosen vocation. She told them she was going to stay and continue to work as a stripper. They came to some sort of resolution and it seemed like they were going to stay in touch.

Jeanne was calling from the club where she worked and she said that there had been an attack at the club. She thought it was a possible kidnapping. John told her he would come right over. He turned off the news, amazed at what some people would do in the name of their cause to those who had no hand in their plight, and headed out the door.

John called Craig on the phone and told him what Jasmine had told him as he drove over there. Craig said he would call his brother on the Seattle Police and see if they were taking it seriously and if they were convinced that it was really a kidnapping. John said he would call with more information as soon as he found out what was happening.

When John arrived at the gentleman's club where Jasmine worked it looked as it normally did. A dark, windowless building, only the neon sign out front showing that there was anything inside, with several cars in the parking lot. He went to the front door and entered. The normal cover was more than he wanted to pay for visiting Jasmine, so he told the lady at the door taking the money that he was there to speak to Jasmine on a business matter. She waved to the bouncer.

The bouncer was not George, but he looked a little like him. He came over and looked John up and down. It was a very serious look. "John Jackson?"

"Yeah. Jasmine called me. She in the office?"

He waved John by. "She's expecting you." He had the same build and was almost the same size as George, which meant large.

There was a woman on stage in just her little string dancing that John didn't recognize, but then the turnover there was high and he hadn't been there in a couple of months. But the place hadn't changed at all. He doubt it would until it went out of business.

John entered the office at the end of the hall, just past the bathroom. It was a pretty large area for an office in this club. About 20 by 20 feet. There was a couch against one wall, a closet, and in the main section a large wooden desk where Jasmine was sitting. She was the day manager now, so she didn't dance as much and worked running the place when the owner, Marcus, was not present. She must have proven herself a good manager.

"Hello, Jasmine."

Jasmine stood and moved to John quickly and wrapped him in a big hug. "Good to see you, John." She was wearing a tight t-shirt with no bra, as evidenced by the visibility of her nipples, and a very short skirt. She wasn't ready to do any stripping, but she was definitely dressed sexily.

"Oh, so you are calling me John now, eh?" When John came to the club to see her the last time, she had been working and called him Mr. Jackson, in a teasing manner.

She laughed. "Yes, because this is work, not play." She moved to sit back down behind the desk and John took a seat in front of it.

"You look very good." She did. Some girls can have a lot of problems in this industry, but she looked healthy and like she was staying away from the abuse of drugs and alcohol.

"Thank you."

John decided to get immediately down to business. "So tell me what happened."

"Last night there was a ruckus outside just after closing. George usually stands out there and watches the ladies make their way to their cars for safety. I went out there after Joyce came in screaming that somebody hit George. I was surprised. I can't imagine anyone getting away with hitting George, but when I went out there he was lying on the ground and bleeding from his head. She said he had been hit by a bat. I called the cops and they responded, but the detective that showed up didn't seem very interested. They usually aren't at a strip club."

"What's his name?"

Jasmine reached for a business card on her desk. "Mmmm -- Cole."

"I know him a little. He was a jerk to me, but I don't know anything about him professionally as an investigator." He was the one that treated John like a dipshit during his previous run-in with the police. But that didn't mean he wasn't a decent investigator.

Jasmine stopped John with a hand. "Just a second. I'm not done. Livy didn't come into work today and I called her cell. Nobody goes without their cell any more. She is not answering and hasn't all day. Her car's still parked in the back lot. That's why I think someone took her and they put George down to be able to do it."

John listened and thought about it. He needed to get more information. Was the ruckus caused so that Livy could be taken? Was it a distraction? Was it a coincidence? John didn't believe in coincidences that large. He had to know more.

"Okay, so you want me to look into it, right?"

"Yes."

"So you know what it costs, right?"

"Yes, I do. Marcus likes Livy, too, so he's willing to pay you guys to investigate it. I don't know if he might change his mind if things last too long."

"Okay. I'll call Jeff and then get right to work. If it proves to be an actual kidnapping, then the police may take it out of our hands and tell us to back off. But we can cross that bridge when it comes to that. Right now I need to know who witnessed last night's attack."

"I'll see who saw anything and let you know."

"Okay, I'm going to see George."

Jasmine came over and put her hand on John's arm as he was leaving. "How're things with your lady friend."

"Not bad. We're taking it slow, but her daughter is already pretty attached." He wasn't ready to say any more than that.

"Well, I hope it works out, but we miss you coming here to see us."

John laughed. "I'll see what I can work out. Maybe I can donate some more money to you girls later."

Just as John exited her door, she ran out to hail him one more time. "Oh, I forgot to say that George is in the Virginia Mason Hospital, the one on 9th." She then gestured toward the other bouncer. "That's his brother Jameson."

John nodded and walked toward Jameson. "Jameson," he put out his hand, "I'm sorry to hear about George and I'm glad to meet you. I'm, as you already know, John Jackson, a friend."

"Yeah, I heard a little about you. George is looking okay. He woke up this morning and the doctor said he should be fine. Not sure about any long term problems with the concussion."

"Okay. He's my first stop in looking for Livy. I'll see you later. Keep 'em safe."

Jameson nodded. "Nobody's taking any more of these ladies." He appeared to be serious and a little angry.

John smiled and nodded back. Jameson didn't look like he was going to stand for much. He'd hate to be some regular drunk guy who raised some ruckus in that club tonight. Jameson might just take out his frustrations on the unsuspecting asshole.

John headed over to the hospital. It was a large facility on 9th Ave. As he drove he spoke to Craig and said that they had a new case. Craig teased John about it being the strippers again, but got more serious as he learned of the circumstances. John told him that it was good to have repeat customers. Craig laughed and said he was waiting to hear from his brother.

John got to the hospital, parked, and then went in and asked about the status of George Watkins. He was given the room number and told that George was available for visitors.

He reached George's room, where there were some others visiting. There were two men and a woman in the room. They all looked like George so John thought they might be more relatives. In fact, the men looked so much like George and Jameson that it was uncanny. They all had the same high forehead, very dark skin, and they were all large, muscular men. The woman looked a little like them, but was a petite, little thing compared to the guys.

John walked in and George immediately smiled and waved. "Hey, John. Everyone, this is Colonel John Jackson, the PI that I told you Jasmine was going to call. John, this is Jenny, my sister, and my younger brothers, Lanny and Liddell." John shook their hands as they were introduced and then George asked them to step out for a minute.

George looked at John and he shook his head back and forth. He started his description before John could ask a question. "I can't believe I got dropped from behind. I usually stand with my back to the wall and watch all the ladies leave and get in their cars. But this time, there was a guy who seemed like a stalker for one of the ladies. He was walking up, calling her by name, and she was saying to me that she didn't know the guy so I stepped out and put up a hand, asking him to stand back. He stopped and then I felt something hit me, and then I woke up in the hospital."

John had pulled out his notebook and was making notes. "What was the dancer's name?"

"She goes by Juniper. I don't know her real name, but Jasmine can get it."

"What did the stalker look like?"

"He was white, just under six feet, and skinny so he weighed no more than about 165 pounds. He had what appeared to be light brown hair. I think he was wearing jeans and a rain jacket. Like everyone else around here. I didn't expect any trouble since he was not a large guy. I thought I would just get between him and Juniper and everything would settle down. I certainly didn't think it was going to be a blind side blow."

"That's okay. That's a good description. I can get more from the dancer. He's probably gotten some dances or bought drinks for her and then became fixated." John put his pen in his pocket. "Now, how are you really feeling?"

George reached back and rubbed the bandage on the back of his head. "Well, I have a constant headache that they are giving me some good drugs for. As soon as it comes back and I ask for more, they give me something and it immediately gets better. I'm only here until the doctor comes back around. They just kept me overnight because I got here at about 3:30 am. The club closes at 2:30 and I was outside just before 3 when the ladies all leave. They were just checking for problems with my brain like a concussion and any bleeding, but hey, I've got a really hard head."

John laughed. "Yes, I guess you must have. They said you were hit with a baseball bat. Either you have a very hard head or the assailant doesn't swing a bat very well. A baseball bat hit can kill a person."

"Yeah, I thought about that. It makes me think that he didn't care if I died."

"Probably not. Did the police take your statement already?"

"Yeah. They said the same thing. It's attempted murder in their estimation."

"I bet. Anyway, I need to get started to find Livy."

"Livy? What happened? Find here? She booked or somebody took her?"

"There's no sign of her. She's not at home, her car is still at the club, and she's not been answering her cell. Jasmine and the club hired me to find her, as well as your assailant. I figure they're related anyway. Didn't the cops tell you that?"

"No, they didn't say anything about that."

"Well, they may not have decided that it was a kidnapping yet. But they will now."

"Okay. Thanks, John. I'll certainly pony up some money to pay for your services."

"No need. The club is paying. Marcus is stepping up. I'll keep you informed."

"Okay, thanks. Good luck. Oh, and if you need some muscle, you know that it runs in the family. Any of us would be willing to help."

"Well, I just may take you up on that. You guys are pretty intimidating." John stood up. "Get better." They shook hands and John walked out. George's siblings were standing down the hall a ways. John waved and walked to the elevators and left.

As he walked to the car, John called Jasmine and told her he wanted to talk to Juniper. She said she would pull her card and that she was working later tonight. John headed back to the club.

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When Livy woke, she realized that she was in a bed in what looked like a small bedroom. She tried to sit up, but nausea attacked her and she lay back to let it pass. She lay there and looked around, wondering what had happened and where she was. She remembered seeing the guy who was approaching Juniper and then George stepped out to stop him.

Wait! Her mind was starting to clear away the fog and she tried sitting up again. The nausea wasn't as bad this time so she tried to sit on the bed and put her head in her hands. She remembered something going on with George and somebody doing something behind him. Then someone grabbing her and... she suddenly looked down at her right thigh. She remembered a stab in her thigh and nothing else. She looked down and realized that she was dressed only in her bra and panties.

There, on the side of her right thigh was a small reddish patch with a little dot in the middle. Just like a needle mark. Shit! She was drugged and taken? But where and why? She felt and looked around her body and found no other marks. She pulled her panties out and ran her hands over her crotch. If someone had raped her there was no pain, no marks, and no sign of semen. That clarified a few things in her head. Like maybe she was being kept for someone or some reason. Certainly not a ransom.

Livy looked around a little more closely. She was in a small bedroom with a twin bed, a small plastic table for a nightstand with a Solo cup of water, a small empty closet with no door, and a small window that appeared to be in a deep window well. The floor was concrete. She was in a basement bedroom. The clothes rods were even gone from the closet. Whoever they were, they had removed anything she might use as a weapon.

She looked over at the water. Was it okay? She was really thirsty. She lifted the cup and sniffed the water. Roofie? Nothing she could smell. She then took a small taste. There was a slightly weird taste in the water that didn't make sense. It didn't appear brackish or full of minerals, it seemed to be something else. She decided it would be a bad idea to drink it. She dumped it out on the floor on the side of the bed away from the door and spread it around with her feet. She wanted it to dry on the cool concrete so that they would think she had drunk it. Then she'd see what they expected.

She studied the window, but it was nailed shut, only about 12" high by 15" wide, and in a window well that was about two feet deep. She figured there was no way to get anything done there.

Livy had grown up working with her father, who taught her about handyman items so that his daughter, his only child, could take care of things around the house. Livy thought that maybe he had wanted a son, but he never said so, and he took good care of them and taught her a lot about working with her hands. But he had been killed when Livy was 14 and not long after that her mother had become the punching bag of very nasty boyfriend. The guy had started trying to sexually assault Livy when she turned 16, so she got out. But the lessons from her father remained. She was going to figure something out.

Now Livy looked at the bed. Slats? She had put beds together before and wondered if this one had those. She lifted the mattress and box spring and saw three slats. They were all about 6" wide and set into small channel cuts so that they didn't slide around. She grabbed one to see if they were screwed in place or just held in the channels by the weight of the bed. The slat came up easily and she grinned. She was going to have to figure out when to use it, but she now had a weapon, if necessary. Her captors had forgotten at least one thing. Maybe they weren't that smart. Maybe she could get out. Maybe not. But she was going to have to try.