Matryoshka Blues (The Average Joe Mysteries Book 1) (12 page)

I start with five zeros and a one. I’ll cross the finish line if it kills me. Unless the farmer/drug dealer whose property I’m currently trespassing on decides to make an example of me first.

I make it to zero-zero-zero-zero-four-three before the whole thing pisses me off too much, and I throw the box down the length of dirt road, watching it bounce and land far beyond where my cell phone and stolen novel lay. Yeah, I’ll pick it up and keep working on it, but not now. What I need in this precise moment is to chill the fuck out.

Most of the time, I never question things. I take them as they come and hope for the best. But this? I mean, a man is dead. The woman who killed him murdered two others right in front of me before taking her ball and going home like a punk bitch, and the cops are mere hours from figuring out whose car is taking up prime real estate outside their active crime scene.

I dig into my pocket for the keys to the SUV, wondering if this was all worth it.

The only other item in my pocket is a bar receipt for eighty-three dollars, plus thirty dollars for tip. On the back is a name and phone number in very feminine, very swirly writing, along with a smiley face and a wish that we’ll see each other again.

My redheaded play date’s name is Rebecca. It’s a beautiful name, and I think it suits her.

A shooting star rockets across the wide open sky, winking at me from the fringes of existence, streaking past the deepest, blackest reaches of the universe. I wink back, a private thanks to Scotty for watching over me somewhere up there.

There. Another moment of Zen over and done.

I hop in the SUV and drive off, stopping for each of my belongings before heading for home.

The SUV has Bluetooth, so I make the call as I drive. Rebecca answers on the fourth ring, and she’s happy I did.

Yep, totally worth it.

To the Reader

Authors—especially indie ones—live and die by the reviews they get of their work. The importance of word-of-mouth cannot be overstated. If you enjoyed this novella, please do the author a solid and leave a review before sharing the experience with your friends and family. It doesn’t matter where you leave one, only that you do. Unless you’re thinking of a toilet stall or something. That might not go so well. And wash your hands when you’re done.

To All Writers

One of the hardest things about this job is knowing who to trust, and then trusting them enough to have your life’s blood put on display for all to see and (potentially) destroy. We all go through it, but if you’re going to be more than a hobbyist—if you want to be published in any capacity—then it’s a necessary evil.

Get your work out there. Let it be seen, judged, and mocked. You will be stronger for it, and so will your writing. Writers organizations are there for that purpose, and this is where I humbly offer a shameless plug for the one that helped me achieve my dream.

Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers has been a godsend. Through their workshops, seminars, conferences, and critique groups, I’ve learned more and progressed further than I ever could have on my own. So long as you’re writing commercial fiction, regardless of genre, there will be something there to help you. For more information, please visit www.rmfw.org. And best of luck to you.

About the Author

Shawn Harper
has called Denver, Colorado, home for the better part of his life. Before that, no other state would claim him—not even denial, which is fitting. He loves Classic Rock and the Blues, good beer, better whiskey, and all things bacon. In short, he’s a cardiologist’s worst nightmare.
MATRYOSHKA BLUES
is his first published work. For news and updates on his latest releases and appearances, follow him on Facebook at
oxygendepraved,
and on Twitter at
@oxygendepraved
.

About the Series

For news and updates on the Average Joe series, follow us on Facebook and Instagram at
/averagejoe302
, or on Twitter at
@AvgJoe302
.

For news and updates on everything from Richfield St. Press, please visit our website at
www.richfieldstpress.com.