Women today have it all, career, family, and more money than ever before. But what does that really mean? Jane can sum it up in one word—power.
Jane Arch is living proof that having it all isn’t always enough, because enough, is a relative term . . . regardless of the cost.
Brotherhood isn't determined by blood, it's a state of mind. You don't get to choose your siblings but you do get to choose your friends. Bryan and Michael are college roommates, fraternity brothers, teammates in baseball, and most of all—best friends.
Yes, they have their differences and yes, they can get on each other’s nerves, but when two boys choose to be brothers, nothing can come between them, not even the truth.
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My definition of a Short Story: a quick and easy read intended to break up the monotony of a typical fast-food lunch, or the daily brown-bag convention in the corporate break room.
Read from See Jane:
“Get out Suzy.”
Suzy’s eyes were scanning the area outside the elevator door for threats. She answered without looking back at Jane. “No, this isn’t twelve.”
“No, it isn’t. Now out!” Jane was pointing a gun at Suzy while motioning her to move. Suzy turned back and saw it, then realized that the threat wasn’t outside after all. Having no option, she did what Jane wanted and as they walked out of the elevator, they both looked in the direction of the security camera. “Don’t worry, the camera was stolen last Wednesday, the replacement won’t be in until Monday. Now walk over there between those two cars.” Again, Jane motioned with the gun and Suzy did as instructed. When she got to the space between the cars, she stopped. Both vehicles were large SUV’s, not cars, but Suzy didn’t dare make the correction. “Go all the way back to the guard rail, then you can stop—move.”
Suzy did as she was told, purposely walking slowly to avoid provocation. The thought of that brought out Jane’s own special trademark, a smile of supremacy. After a long tedious day at work, the satisfaction of knowing that everything was going according to plan left Jane revitalized. Her adrenaline pumped hard and fast; she felt strong, exhilarated, motivated, but most of all, dangerous.
Jane decided to start with a complement. “Good, you were always very proficient at taking instruction. Now turn around and listen.” Suzy complied with her orders as Jane continued. “I know you have a thing for Dickie and you better put that out of your mind—now and forever. He’s mine. Don’t you ever forget that. And don’t ever let me hear you compliment him, or even mention his name, and Suzy . . . if I catch you anywhere near him when he’s at the office, I’ll—”
Read from Brothers:
Michael dove into the closet and started to rummage, his muffled voice still audible. “I think I screwed up Bry.”
Michael handed Bryan the bat then pulled himself, and his glove with a hardball tucked in its pocket, out of the closet. “At the beginning of class we were all given an option to either take the final exam or write a poem. I figured it would be easier to write one poem than to study for a test on God knows how many. I think I figured wrong.”
“I wish I could help you buddy, but plagiarism is as close as I get to creative writing. Now hurry up, I got a surprise for you.” Bryan started for the door.
“What is it?” Thunk-bump. “Damn.” Michael stopped to pick up the ball that inadvertently fell out of his mitt. “You know I don’t like surprises.”
“Bullshit, hurry up.”
Michael strolled over to shortstop while Bryan took his place at second base. Sharpie was already at the plate shagging balls with the fielders but instead of hitting to them as is customary, he was throwing because he didn’t have a bat. Sharpie, a nickname derived from Abner’s last name Shapiro, was either the second, or the third, best batter on the team—depending on Bryan’s luck. Luck aside—it didn’t say much for Sharpie’s skill and when it came to fielding, well, he always did his best out in right field. Irrespective of skill, Sharpie saw himself as the team manager, coach, and captain.
With Michael’s bat in hand, Sharpie called the play. “Bry, man on first, one out.” Michael gave Bryan a look that needed no words. True to form, the ball was hit softly into the gap between first and second base, so softly that Bryan’s grandfather could’ve turned the fictitious double play, and gramps used a walker.
Michael covered second and after throwing to first, started to laugh. “This is going to be ugly—quick—but ugly.”