Sneak Peek: "The New Partner"

My short story collection "Asides" will be coming out in December, which isn't far away, but I'd love to share some of it with you now.

"Asides" has eight short stories, two of which are Seers extras. "The New Partner" is the longest piece in the collection, which I think readers will be fine with since it is a prequel to "Seers" with Toni as the narrator. It takes place in New York in 1987 and is divided into four parts.

Part one is now revealed below for your reading pleasure. Enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments, or on the facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Seers-...

THE NEW PARTNER, Part I

“Do you know why you’re here?” Simmons asked from across his desk.

I wasn’t about to admit to anything, so I went for an innocent shrug.

Simmons frowned, the crinkles around his eyes deepening.

Maybe I should have at least fessed up to stealing that wallet off the brown-haired guy in the waiting room. There might have been cameras. I should have thought of that.

Gary Simmons steepled his fingers, elbows on his desk, looking every inch the impressive boss. “Alvarez,” he sighed, “were you aware that your last six partners have all asked for reassignments?”

I shifted on the hard chair. “Asked?”

“It was rather more like begging,” Simmons admitted. “When asked to label the issue, they all claimed you as the problem.”

“That’s fair,” I allowed.

“This is not a joking matter.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

It was the truth. I was just trying to ignore the clenching in my gut that told me I was about to be fired. I mean, I was the first to admit I wasn’t the ideal Guardian, but that didn’t keep me from feeling the urge to serve and protect others. I was also a fan of the immortality and easy money.

Simmons fingered a manila folder on his desk and my eyes dipped to follow. “This is your file,” he began.

“It’s surprisingly small,” I couldn’t help but say. I had this terrible habit of talking when nervous.

Simmons lifted a single eyebrow. “These are the compliments I managed to scrape up from Benson’s reports.”

I scratched my ear. “In the interest of fairness, Benson and I never got along.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“So what sort of compliments did you find?”

Simmons flicked open the folder and I saw the single sheet of paper flutter. “He said you’ve got a great sense of humor.”

“Guilty,” I smirked.

Simmons’s eyes didn’t wander from the page. “He rescinded the compliment a week later, but I thought I’d still count it.”

“Oh. Well, I see two more sentences. What else?”

“The last is his signature.”

“Okay. What’s my second and final compliment?”

The boss eyed me steadily. “He says he’s never seen a young man gain a young woman’s telephone number so quickly.”

I tried to look humble, but I think my grin gave me away.

Simmons closed the folder, keeping a palm against it as he trapped me in his stare. “The important thing here, unfortunately, are the complaints Benson made against you.”

“Why bring up the compliments, then?”

“I try to begin on a positive note.”

“Yikes,” I chuckled nervously. “If this is the positive...” Simmons didn’t crack a smile, so I didn’t bother searching for a witty way to finish.

His expression seemed as unchanging as his age. “Alvarez, Benson didn’t complain of anything that your other partners didn’t also bring up. Well,” his head tilted, “the complaints about staining his underthings pink were quite singular.”

“It’s not my fault Benson has a thing against Valentine’s Day. Pink underwear is an old Spanish tradition—I was just trying to be a friend.”

Simmons cleared his throat with a grunt. I chose to believe he was covering up a laugh. “Because your previous partners all seem to be in agreement, I’m afraid this means you have some improvements to make.”

“So perfection’s a work in progress. What’s wrong with that?”

“You're undisciplined,” he said.

“Yeah.” Why lie?

“You're disrespectful and lazy.”

I nodded. I could shoulder those flaws, too.

“You don’t work well with others.”

“Clearly.”

“You get distracted on assignments.”

“Sometimes.”

“You're a kleptomaniac.”

“Sure.”

“And you wonder why you’re in here?” But Simmons was on the edge of smiling. I could see it glitter in his eyes.

I held up my hands. “Hey, at least I’m agreeable.”

“Look, Alvarez, I do like you. Some supervisors would have given up a long time ago, but I see your potential.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m basically the only one who does.”

“Thanks a lot, then.”

Simmons shook his head. “Benson asked to be relieved of you.”

“Well that relieves me.”

He blew out his breath. “I’ve got two options for you. You can either take up a new assignment, or you can retire.”

I perked up. “Retirement is an option?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?”

He gave a level stare. “It’s not a beach house in the Bahamas.”

My shoulders wilted. “Oh. Well, then, what is it?”

“You’ll go out and get a job.”

I squinted at him. “It’s been a while since I thumbed through a dictionary, so you’ll have to tell me—has ‘retirement’ been redefined?”

Simmons leaned back in his chair. “Let me put it to you this way: you don’t just stop being a Guardian, even if you quit the heavy footwork. Immortality is a gift, but without guidance, it becomes a curse. Trust me. You need purpose. So, retirement from the field would give you the opportunity to pursue a career. An honest career.”

I tried to keep positive. “Well, I’d find something.”

“There is another aspect to consider.”

“What? I don’t get to use my vacation time?”

“Of course you can. But you’ll be donating your entire paycheck to the Guardians.”

“What? That’s robbery!”

“Where do you think your paychecks come from?” he challenged. “Retired Guardians work to provide the stipends every Guardian enjoys. You would receive enough to see to your needs.”

I growled. “So I’d be working nine-to-five so some other Demon-hunting, Seer-protecting Guardian can go out and have fun? I don’t think so!”

“Guardians use their money for essentials. Their first priority isn’t fun. At least, it shouldn’t be.” The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Benson has told me about some of your recent expenditures.”

“And?”

“Videos, music, hot dogs—”

“It’s New York! I need the hot dogs to survive.”

“Guardians should be moderate in all things.”

I scowled.

Simmons spread his hands. “I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I’ve had nicer enemies,” I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. “Make me get a job, steal all my money...”

“You're a Guardian. You’re supposed to be selfless.”

“Hey, you guys offered me the position. It’s not my fault I don’t match the job description.”

“Usually a person grows into the role.”

“See? I'll get there.”

“It’s been a century.”

“So I'm a bit of a late bloomer.”

“You’re not taking this very seriously, are you?”

“Life’s easier when you don’t take it seriously.” I waved off his coming reply. “You said reassignment was possible. I think I’ll take that option.”

Simmons shrugged. “All right. Then you’ll be moving. I’ve decided it would be best for you to have a fresh start. A new partner, a new area, and a new boss.”

“Sick of me?”

“I just think you might benefit from the change.”

“Fine. Where is this mystical place of magical change? I don’t go third-world,” I added quickly.

“Hmm. Now there’s an idea ...” Simmons smiled. “As interesting as it might be to send you to just such a place, I’ve decided to hand you over to Terence Blank. He oversees Guardians in the south-western states. I already have your plane ticket to L.A., where Blank is currently staying. He’ll place you and your partner where he needs you.”

“Ah, my new partner. I assume you already have some poor sap in mind?”

Simmons tipped his head. “I do. He’ll be perfect for you, I think. His name is Patrick O’Donnell.”

“A bit of a sissy name, isn’t it? Does he go by Patty? If he goes by Patty, I won’t be able to take him seriously.”

“Alvarez.”

“Sorry. Shutting up.”

When Simmons decided my mouth was probably going to stay shut, he continued. “O’Donnell is one of the best Guardians I’ve come across. He’s been working solo for a long time, but he’s agreed to take you on as a partner.”

“Solo?” I hadn’t heard anything beyond that one glorious word. “That’s legal?”

“Yes. Though probably not for you.”

I sighed, letting that fleeting dream die. “Fine. So when is this happening?”

“If you’re willing to take this reassignment, you and O’Donnell will be on a plane in five hours. But, Toni, I need to stress something.”

I offered a lazy grin. “If you need something to stress about, you can still stress about me—even if you’re not my boss.”

I saw his mouth twitch. “I want to make it clear, here and now, that O’Donnell is a rigid rule-follower.”

I blinked at him. Paused. Placed my palm flat on his desk. “Is retirement still on the table?”

“If you want my opinion,” Simmons said with quirked eyebrow. “I think this will be good for you. Opposites attract, as they say.”

“Or pave the way for epic wars.”

“Patrick will be a great role model for you.”

“No thanks.”

“He’ll keep you in line.”

“I hate him already.”

Simmons grew serious. “Alvarez, either you accept Patrick O’Donnell as your partner, or you start looking for a job.”

“I still get a stipend if I slave away for you all, right?”

“Yes. But it would be smaller than what you’re used to.”

I shook my head. “Retirement sounds worse all the time. So either I take a pay-cut and work some honest human job, or I say yes to a new partner who’s supposed to reform me?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Oh gee, lucky me.” I bit back a scowl. “Fine. Fine! Shackle me to the poor sucker and ship us both across the country. Anything’s better than a pay-cut.”

“He’s right outside, if you’d like to meet him.”

I snorted. “Why not?”

“I really think he’ll be good for you,” Simmons insisted.

“Doubtful.”

Simmons buzzed the secretary. “Send in O’Donnell.”

I twisted in my chair to get a first glimpse of my new warden.
The wallet in my pocket got real hot when I saw the brown-haired stranger from the waiting room open the door.

Simmons stood. I was a half-second behind him.

“O’Donnell,” Simmons said with a smile, reaching out to take the young man’s hand.

Patrick O’Donnell looked younger than me, but I knew that didn’t mean anything; he could have died a thousand years ago, making him tons older in the grand scheme of things. Going by appearance, though, he could have been seventeen or eighteen, making me “older” by maybe two years. But Simmons hadn’t been kidding—the guy looked like he not only kept the rules, but memorized them in his spare time. Heck, he might have written a few. He was wearing a suit that had no business being in the 80s. We’d need to fix his sense of style. It totally didn’t work with my jeans and t-shirt combo.

“Thank you for coming,” Simmons said.

“Of course.” His very Irish accent was already apparent, after only two words. We’d need to tone that down if he didn’t want me strangling him every other sentence.

Patrick’s eyes shifted to me and he held his hand out, his smile firm. “And you must be Toni.”

First names, was it? Was the whole informal greeting a ploy to put me at ease, so I’d believe his buddy act and forget that he was here to change me?

I took his hand smoothly, as if the same hand hadn’t stolen his wallet ten minutes ago. “Patrick. Or do you go by Pat? Rick? Patty?” I barely held in a snicker as I dropped his hand.

“Just Patrick, please.” He straightened in a very self-important sort of way, which gave me the sudden urge to deck him. Instead, I conspicuously slouched my shoulders. I thought I saw Simmons frown.

Patrick seemed oblivious to my little rebellion. “I’ve looked through some of your files, Toni, and I must say I was impressed by your ingenuity during several different assignments.”

“Are you serious?” I eyed Simmons, who looked just as surprised.

Patrick nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You can think fast and improvise, two skills I admire very much.”

I grinned. “Thieving has positive side-effects after all.”

“Ah, yes,” Patrick cleared his throat. “I know all about your tendency to break the rules. But I think you and I will make a good team, if you’re willing to put your best foot forward.”

I stared at him. It took everything I had not to gag myself. Was this guy for real?

“Well, Alvrez?” Simmons asked. “Are you willing to try?”

I didn’t look away from Patrick. He didn’t blink under my stare. Maybe he was a robot.

It would be fun making him short-circuit.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Let’s do this.”



End of Part I. You can read the rest of the story in "Asides", out in December.

Are you excited?